Unlikely Heroes - The Story So Far

The Story So Far

Disclaimers: The concept of vampires as portrayed in Forever Knight belongs to Sony Pictures, etc. Everything else in this story is the property of either Liz the Lucky or JJ. Well, okay, except for San Francisco, but there's no copyright on that, and Seacouver seems to be the general property of the fans. :-)

"First Bite"
by Liz the Lucky (Elaine)
and JJ (Giver)

The Starlight Club was in full swing when she entered it, a young woman who instantly attracted curious stares from everyone, even the couples on the dance floor. One man even came close to dropping his partner. Not because the woman was breathtaking, but simply because she was unusual.

She was of average height, with medium length dark wavy hair, dressed entirely in white except for a gold necklace and gold ring, so that a couple of the more drunken patrons wondered if she were an angel. Of course, the all-white outfit wasn't the only thing about her that gave that impression. There was also the absolute serenity that surrounded her.

However, her attention was drawn to only one thing. The blonde singing up on stage. Pausing for a moment to study the object of her attention, she nodded enigmatically then crossed to the bar.

"Drink?" the bartender asked, going over to her.

She turned to look at him, and Arnold got the eerie feeling that she could see straight into his soul. "A glass of red wine, please," was the calm reply.

"Sure thing." A brief trip, and a glass was soon sitting in front of her. "If you want anything else, just give a hollar. My name's Arnold." Nodding, he headed off to the other end of the bar.

The woman waited until he was gone, then drew out a knife that looked razor sharp, with a gleaming steel blade and a carved bone handle. When no one was looking--which she seemed to know instinctively without having to check--she drew the blade lightly over her palm, then held her hand over the glass and let a few drops of her blood fall into it. She lifted her head and looked again towards the stage. The blonde was just starting a new song, so the newcomer settled in to wait.

Could be.
Who knows?
It's something due any day.
I will know right away, soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down thru the sky
Gleam in its eye,
Bright as a rose.
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach, under a tree.
I got a feeling there's a miracle due,
Gonna come true,
Comin' to me!
Could it be?
Yes it could.
Something's coming,
Something good,
If I can wait.
Something's coming,
I don't know what it is,
But it is gonna be great.
With a click,
With a shock.
Phone will jingle,
Door will knock,
Open the latch.
Something's coming,
Don't know when but it's soon;
Catch the moon, one handed catch.
Around the corner,
Or whistling down the river.
Come one,
Deliver to me.
Will it be?
Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still
It'll be there.
Come on, something,
Come on in.
Don't be shy,
Meet a guy,
Pull up a chair.
The air is humming,
And something great is coming.
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block,
On a beach.
Maybe tonight....

The song ended to a polite round of applause, from both the tables and the dance floor. Smiling, the band leader announced a fifteen minute break, and left the stage. The blonde singer wove her way to the bar, politely accepting compliments from the crowd. Once there, she motioned to Arnold, who nodded and mouthed that he'd be there as soon as he could.

Before he could reach her, though, the strange woman who had entered earlier rose from her seat and crossed to the blonde. Without a word, she slid the glass in front of the other woman. The blonde picked up a sip, took a sniff, then first a sip, then a bigger swallow. "Ah think weh need tah talk," she told the other woman.

Her strange companion smiled. "Exactly why I'm here."

"Indeed." The blonde took another drink. "Not heah, a'cahse. Too public. Weh need tah go someplace moah private."

The stranger nodded and reached under her pure-white coat. She drew out a slim, cream-colored envelope. "Contained within this are directions to my home in Seacouver, along with an invitation. It won't answer all your questions, but it should intrigue you."

"Ah'll beh theah," the blonde answered, taking the envelope. "An' if yah intah the Blues, make shoah yah stop at Joe's. He's a friend of mine."

The other woman smiled. "I know." Before the singer could ask another question, the stranger rose from her seat and left the club.

*****

Elaine landed on the roof, looked around, then jumped to the ground. After walking around the house, she found exactly one window open. It was almost too obvious, but something told her to trust her host, so she went in.

She found herself in a parlor, oddly enough, decorated with paraphenalia from more cultures than she could count. Weapons, religious symbols, crafts, tapestries, and such from all over the world decorated the walls and sat on top of seven very tall, very full bookcases. There was a fireplace against one wall, with two chairs on either side of it, in one of which sat the strange woman who had invited her here.

"Please, sit down," Elaine's host greeted her. This time she was dressed entirely in red.

"A'right," Elaine agreed, taking the other chair. "Mind explainin' why yah invi'ed meh heah? An' how yah knew what Ah am?"

The other woman pondered for a moment before replying. "Do you believe in...I suppose what you would describe as 'a calling'?"

"Depends on what kind of callin'," Eliaen answered. "Yah a priest?"

Her hostess laughed. "No, I'm not a priest. All right, let me rephrase that. Do you believe in destiny?"

"Onlay in the kind yah make yahself."

The stranger nodded. "Fair enough. Suffice it to say that I do, and that I believe our destinies are intertwined."

"Uh huh." Elaine shifted in her seat. "Why?"

"Because they are. Let me ask you, do you care about people around you? Do you believe in using your gifts for the good of others?"

"Ah caah fah mah pets, if that's what yah mean. As fah othahs," Elaine shrugged. "Depends on who they ah an' how Hungray Ah am."

"You are, if I'm not mistaken, very selective in your choice of meals, though." She smiled. "That implies an understanding of the concept of justice."

"Oh jus' an int'rest in protec'in' mah stomach," Elaine grinned back.

The other woman laughed. "From the blood of innocents?"

"Theah ah no innocents," the blonde quickly answered. "Jus' people less guiltay then othahs."

"Very true. But would you say you attempt to protect the less guilty from the more? As much as it is within your power to do so? Or, even if you do not, would you be willing to?"

Elaine shrugged. "Depends on what's in it fah meh."

Her hostess nodded and rose. "I came to find you because I need you. You and others like you who are at the same time utterly different. As for what's in it for you...that is for you to discover."

"An' what's tah stop meh from killin' yah right heah an' now?"

Her hostess just smiled again and said calmly, "Because if you do, then you'll never know the extent of my physical prowess in the erotic arts."

Elaine straighted, looking at her hostess in surprise. Then she burst out laughing. "A'right, yah win. Ah'm in. But yah still haven' tol' meh yah name."

"Call me Giver."

"Good enough," Eliaen said. She knew Giver wasn't the other woman's real name, but most of the people she knew didn't use their real names. "Sah what exac'lay ah weh doin'?"

Giver stood then, and crossed to one of the bookshelves. From it she withdrew a book, which sounded hollow to the vampire's ears. Returning to her seat, she opened the book and handed it to Elaine. Within the hollow space were several pieces of jewelry, including a necklace, a choker, a bracelet, and a brooch, all with the same curious symbol. "Take whichever one you will wear," Giver said. "When someone needs you, I will contact you. Whether you choose to go or not is up to you, but I believe you will. There will be others, and sometimes you will need to work with them, although how much you tell them about your gifts remains your choice. This is how you will recognize each other."

After looking the jewelry over, Elaine picked up the choker and placed it around her neck, taking the one she had been wearing off in the process. "Titanium," she noted. "Yah mean this thin' tah las', don' yah?"

"As long as it may be needed," Giver agreed. "You do not need to wear the choker always, only when called upon, although you may wear it whenever you wish. Now, do you have any other questions for the moment?"

"Jus' one. What do Ah do if Ah'm the one wan'in' tah do the contactin'?" Elaine asked.

Giver just gave her that same enigmatic smile. "You'll know when the time comes."

Disclaimer: The concept of witches as portrayed in Charmed belongs to Warner Brothers and I don't know who else. Everything else in this story is the property of the writers, except for the city of New York, which belongs to the world. ;-)

"In the Cards"
by Kat (Gwen)
and JJ (Giver)

The little bell over the door chimed as it opened and a young woman stepped through into the fairly empty shop. She was of average height, with short, wavy dark hair and dark eyes, and appeared to be in her late twenties and Hispanic. But despite her not-quite-exotic looks, something about her was almost certain to attract attention. For one thing, she was dressed entirely in white, except for a gold chain at her throat, with a word in Cherokee engraved into the charm, and a heavy gold ring on the middle finger of her right hand that had a dragon carved into its face. Even more powerful than that, though, was the curious aura of agelessness and serenity that surrounded her.

Without a word, she approached the counter and waited with implacable calm.

"Behind the curtain," a voice colored with a thick Irish brogue called from the back room.

The visitor glided across the floor so evenly that if not for the glow of life in her face, she would have seemed a
snow-clad, brown-skinned spirit. She lifted one hand to part the beaded curtain that separated the two rooms.

Behind the beaded curtain, a young woman sat at a small circular table. She had long strawberry blonde hair and was dressed like someone's idea of what a fortune teller should look like -- long wild print skirt, gypsy style
blouse, lots of funky jewelry.

The woman at the table opened up the carved wooden box next to her and pulled out a tarot deck. She began to shuffle the cards and then finally looked up at the newcomer. "I've been wonderin' when ya were finally gonna show up," she said "The name's Gwendolyn O'Daily. My friends call me Gwen, my da called me Gwenie, everyone else calls me Miss O'Daily or they end up callin' the cops. If the visions are correct about ya, ya kin call me Gwen. Have a seat."

With a calm smile, the woman did so. When she had settled herself, her long white skirt billowing around the chair, she placed both hands on the table and said cryptically, "You have been waiting for me, and I have been looking for you."

Gwen started placing the tarot cards into a pattern in front of her. "Well I've been here the whole time," she replied. "Although, I do have to admit ya've got my curiosity a wee bit peaked. Been a long time since I've had a vision that strong that wasn't warnin' me of impendin' doom." Then she smiled. "Then again, I could be readin' the signs wrong."

"If you had, I would not be here," her visitor pointed out with an enigmatic smile.

"Very true," Gwen laughed. "So, what does someone like you need with a wee Irish witch like me?"

"It is not my need that brings me here. It is what is needed of both of us."

The other woman withdrew a small box from within her milky coat and opened it on the table. In it were several pieces of gold-colored jewelry--a necklace, a bracelet, a ring, a choker, a brooch, and assorted other items--all adorned with the same curious symbol.

“So that’s what that was,” Gwen said.

"I see you recognize it," the visitor remarked.

Gwen stopped dealing out her cards just long enough to reach into the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and handed it to the other woman. On the paper was a sketch of the same symbol. “I saw it a few times before I started gettin’ the visions of you,” she explained.

The stranger nodded. "There will be others," she explained. "This is how you will know each other. Please take the piece you are most likely to wear."

Gwen chose the necklace and placed it around her neck, the pendant hanging just above her Celtic cross.

When she had chosen, the other woman continued. "All you will be called upon to do is what you already do, to use your gifts for the good of others around you. Only now, sometimes you will have help."

“Might be nice to have an extra set of hands next time some warlock or demon comes lookin’ for m’head,” Gwen admitted as she went back to her tarot cards.

"That it might." The stranger's attention shifted to the cards as well, the enigmatic, knowing smile appearing again. "So, what do your cards tell you about me?"

Gwen finished her pattern and looked at the cards. “Not a blasted thing,” she answered. Then she grinned. “But I hadn’t really expected them too.”

The other woman stood, slipping the box back into her coat. "Your wisdom serves you well. I will contact you when you are needed."

She turned to leave.

Gwen reached out, gently touching the other woman’s sleeve and stopping her. “And when I encounter the others, who should I say has sent me?” she asked.

Her visitor laughed softly. "That depends on who you worship. I only bear the message. But I am called Giver."

“Well, God or the Lady, whichever one sends me your way, I am at your service, Giver,” Gwen replied. “I’ll be here when ya need me.”

Giver nodded, tucked the jewelry box back into her coat, and with a final parting smile disappeared as silently as she had come.

Disclaimer: The concept of Sentinels as portrayed in The Sentinel belongs to Paramount, UPN, and Pet Fly
Productions. Everything else in this story is the property of the authors.

"To Protect and Serve"
by LadyRhian (Von)
and JJ (Giver)

Von swept her athame around the edges of the circle, completing the blue line of power she had drawn with her
mind. "Here is the circle I have drawn," she half-chanted, half sang. "Let nothing but the good enter and let naught but good leave. So mote it be!"

She moved back to the altar and picked up her incense burner. This was a copper bowl half-filled with sand on which a cone of incense burned. Carrying it carefully, she circled the boundary she had drawn on the floor. "I conjure ye with air," she said, walking the entire circle and placing the incense on the eastern side of her altar.

Next, she picked up a fat red candle in a holder and circled once again. "I conjure ye with fire." The candle went to the southern side of the altar. Next was a ceramic cup filled with cool, clear water. The sides of the cup were decorated with waves, fish and shells. "I conjure ye with water." The cup went to the west of the altar.

Lastly, a copper dish filled with salt. "I conjure ye with earth." This went to the north. She bowed before the altar, which was aglow with candles, and two ceramic figures. The one to the right was of a woman, nearly naked, with only a single cloth drape in royal blue hiding the perfection of her form. Her body was white, with a glow that was mother of pearl, and her long hair was black as night.

"I ask thee, oh mother of all, to be with me in this rite. Be with me as the pure maiden, be with me as the loving
mother, be with me as the wise crone." As Von spoke, she was lighting the candles that stood in a triple-branched candle holder behind the statuette, white for the maiden, red for the mother, and black for the crone.

As she meditated for a moment before the statue, a female voice whispered to her, "Be at peace, my child.
Opportunity comes. Answer the door, Sentinel." She sat up straight, hardly believing what she had heard, and then a noise came to her, the crunching of grass underfoot, the sound of steps on the flagstone walkway that led to her door.

She rose in a single graceful movement and seized her athame. She walked to the edge of the circle and cut a
doorway into the side for herself. She exited, and caught up the blue robe that she had hung on the hook by the
door. She paused to wriggle into it, then headed for the door.

She opened it and looked out at the woman who was standing there. "You have something for me?" she asked quietly, sounding calm and composed.

The visitor was dressed entirely in white, which accentuated her light bronze skin, dark eyes and hair. One little sparkle of color hung around her neck in the shape of a necklace with a word inscribed in it in Cherokee, and there was another flash of gold on her hand, a ring on the middle finger.

"Only an open door," was the serene reply. "And that is not mine to give, but merely to deliver."

Von considered this for a moment, then was joined by two small bodies at the door, each considering the visitor with curious green eyes. One mewed inquisitively, and Von bent down to pick up the black and white cat and caress its head. Its green eyes half closed.

"Come in," Von said. "I'm Von... pardon me. Yvonne O'Shea." She grinned. "But you can call me Von." She moved back from the door and the other cat followed her, leaving the foyer open.

Inside, she kissed the cat in her arms and set her down on the floor. "Be a good girl, Cleo," she instructed the cat. She stroked the gray and cream cat a few times as well. "I love you too, Peach."

The room was panelled in wood and the floor was gleaming wood as well, with a single jewel-toned oriental rug near the leather sectional sofa. The rest of the room was dominated by what looked like a bark-stripped tree trunk suspended on two rubber-footed wooden supports. Three pieces of wood stuck out of the top of the trunk and a single bent branch, similarly stripped of bark, near the bottom, projecting at an angle.

A wide variety of objects decorated the wall behind the tree trunk, including some things that were recognizably
martial arts weapons, and the rest, which probably were.

Von turned to her visitor. "Can I offer you anything?" she asked.

Her visitor shook her head. "No thank you."

Finally, she said, "And what is this open door you're offering me?"

The stranger regarded her with an intense but calm stare. "It is twofold. First, you will be asked to give--much as you already do--to use your gifts to protect this city. But with that calling will sometimes come help. Second, you will find the answers you seek about the abilities you have been given. I cannot promise when, and I cannot promise who will have those answers, but someday they will come to you."

Von considered this for a long moment. "All right. What do I have to do?" It was really no more than she herself did every day, keep the city safe. Well, her part of it, anyway. Salve the wounds and keep the injured from dying. Fight the fires that threatened the people and the structures of the city.

Though she had to admit, lately, that her feelings on that matter had grown all the fiercer. She was not sure why, and could scarcely verbalize the feelings to herself. Then again, ever since she'd started dreaming of the white Lynx, her life as a whole had seemed... skewed somehow. She closed her eyes for a moment as the Lynx's face flashed in her memory, its enigmatic green eyes staring out at her from the forest.

She opened her eyes once more, unaware how very much her expression resembled the Lynx in her mind.

The stranger's next words were very deliberate. "Protect your tribe, wait for your Guide. And accept the aid of those who have also been called."

She then reached into the pure white coat she wore and drew from some inside pocket a small box. Opening it revealed several pieces of gold-colored jewelry--a bracelet, a necklace, a choker, a ring, and others--all adorned with the same curious symbol.

"Choose, Sentinel," the visitor instructed her. "Whichever you will wear."

Von's hand, with its strong, slender, capable fingers, hovered over the pieces of jewelry before plucking the
ring from the box. "I won't be able to wear it to a fire," she said regretfully. "But I will be able to wear it the
rest of the time." The thought of having her finger burned by the metal ring, or worse, having it melt onto her hand, was not something she wanted to contemplate. She had enough small burn scars as it was, though most of them had been well repaired by plastic surgeons after the fact.

For the first time, the stranger's peaceful expression faltered. Watching the other woman's hands, something almost like regret appeared in her eyes. But it was regret tempered with resolve, and there was no doubt. Only in the way her hand stretched out to kindly touch Von's arm was there any hint of what troubled her. There was an energy in that touch, an energy that wanted to heal the scars, but for some reason could not.

"The ring is how you will know each other, there is no need to wear it all the time. Only when you are called. I will contact you when you are needed."

Von smiled. "And by what name will I know you?" she asked, her green eyes studying the woman before her.

The stranger laughed softly. "I am known as Giver."

Von nodded, and a quicksilver gamine grin blossomed on her face. "How appropriate." she said. Then, she looked serious again. "I'll be there when I'm needed."

Giver smiled. "I know you will." She rose fluidly from her seat. "Until that day, then."

Von opened the door for the other woman. "Yes," she affirmed. "Until that day." She waited until the other
woman was gone, then, still thinking, moved back to her ritual room. She breathed deeply at the door before
shrugging out of her robe and moving, skyclad once more, back into her circle. She closed the opening behind her and moved back to the altar, a low chant springing from her lips. A chant of thanks for the opportunity she'd
been given.

First appearance by Nekron in my stories.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story and some of the events therein do not belong to me. I do not intend to make any profit from then, I'm just having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me or anything like that. I'm poor enough as it is.

"The Kid"
by lore (Nekron)

This is based in my family ties universe and is a sequel to my story "A mothers love" I'm not sure about the rating, but I think its rated PG 13 for the accidental beheading. Just about what you would expect from the show itself. Temlan, Lilin, Jo'lon, Julia... belong to me, but can be borrowed as long as they're treated with respect. Feedback, questions and so on can be sent to lilith93@hotmail.com Please don't send any rotten tomatoes or flames my way.

Prologue

1025 AD

As usual, the city of Paris was overcrowded. People were thrown together like fish in a barrel. And also as usual, the stench of all those people was only noticed by those fortunate enough to live elsewhere. One of those visitors was a young black-haired beauty who being a thief herself was more than aware of the occasional pickpocket. Amateurs, she thought. Can't take money from a dead man.

When she heard the clatter of wheels she quickly moved aside, wagondrivers weren't always all that careful about whose feet were in front of their wheels. The woman hoped she could leave as soon as possible. The sooner the better, she thought. If only that baron weren't so hard to please, I could have been gone to some estate weeks ago. Suddenly she stopped. Carefully she looked around; caution obvious in her eyes as the gutwrenching sensation of another immortal filled her brain. Let's hope this one isn't looking for a fight. I just bought this dress and bloodstains are a real pain to get rid off. She took another look. After all the time and effort put in this job, if whoever this is, is going to ruin it I'm going to take his or her head with a spoon. Then suprisingly enough she found him. The immortal seemed to be a 16-year old boy. He couldn't have been much older when he hit his first death. Looking at her, he showed he'd sensed her as well. There wasn't any fear in those dark brown eyes of his, just a slight showing of concern. "We don't have to fight I hope. Because I'm really too busy for it."

"Not a problem." Amanda was quick to say. Glad to hear that she wouldn't be forced to either run or fight. "Thank God for small favours" she murmured to herself. "I'm Amanda."

"Timothy"

"So Tim me boy, what are you doing here in Paris, if you don't mind my asking."

"I'm visiting a friend and old mentor of mine. I don't know if you've ever heard of her, her name's Julia."

"Julia taught you? She's good but I didn't know she took any pupils." Amanda took a look at the boy. How did this kid get someone like Julia to take him in. She didn't take on lost causes. "I've known her for over a century and she hasn't taken even one since I've known her. Then again, a century isn't really that long a time when you're immortal, isn't it?"

"Not long at all." Then he answered to her unspoken question, "I knew her a few centuries ago, I'm somewhat over 300."

"Nice."Taking a better look at the boy in front of her. He may look young, but he's older than I am. Oh man I doubt I'll ever get used to this. "You don't look it."

"Don't worry most people have a problem imagining I'm over a century. For some reason most people seem to think that because I'm small and look young, I don't stand much of a chance in the game. It's exactly that kind of
underestimation that has kept me alive this long."

"I know, Rebecca always told me that men wouldn't think I could possibly be a threat to then because I'm a woman and that I should use that to my advantage."

"Rebecca Horn?"

"Yes, you know her."

"I used to some time ago." Timothy motioned for her to follow him. He didn't seem dangerous, but he was immortal. Amanda decided that if he tried anything she could probably ward him off. So she just followed him to Julia's mansion. It was in the middle of town since their immortal friend had always liked to be in the thick of things. The two of then had just arrived when they felt the buzz of not just one but two immortals. Suddenly they felt one of the two fall away. Temlan kicked the door open and ran inside, Amanda followed suit. A big black man was tumbling under the unrelenting fury of a quickening. "No ... Julia!"

Amanda was struck as she saw the change on the face of the boy next to her; before it had seemed innocent, but now...it was like all the fury of hell had broken loose. "You killed her." was all he could say.

The man just laughed. "She didn't give me what I wanted. Maybe you'll be smarter."

"That depends."

A chill crossed Amanda's heart as she heard the slight chuckle in his voice. "Her teacher. I heard she was taught by one of the ancients. Maybe even by Methos. Where is he?"

"You don't ask for much do you."

"I'm not interested in your head, child. Tell me where the ancient one is and I might spare you and your lovely
friend."

A demonic smirk crossed the young boy's face. It was like if some kind of facade fell away. "I guess this is your
lucky day. I'm Temlan and about 400 years ago I was Julia's teacher."

"Don't try to fool me boy."

"People tend to tell me I have a lousy sense of humour. But this time, for once, I'm actually telling the truth. And
you know what the worst part of it is, Julia didn't even know who I really am."

"And who might that be? BOY!"

"I am Temlan Ke Cha Jo'lon. I was a pupil of Methos somewhat over a few millennia ago."

"That can't be, you're a kid."

"You really do want a fight, don't you? Because if you don't, I'm going to have to disappoint you. You just did
one of the few thing I deem worthy of immediate death. Killing someone I cared about." After that Temlan took out his sword. Amanda tried to get a good look at it, it was of a kind she had never seen before, it seemed a bit like one of those swords Rebecca had told her about, the ones they used in the East.

It wasn't really that long, and it certainly looked a lot lighter than her own did. When the two started fighting
she immediately recognised its value for someone as small as Temlan, especially combined with his fighting
technique. The part of it she could see. It seemed like the fight was over before she could even blink. The black mans head was lying on the floor next to the boys feet. And the boy, no Temlan stood ready to receive the guys quickening.

Now she was getting worried. Temlan was obviously good and in a fair fight she wouldn't stand a chance against him. On top of that, she had heard his real name. Something he obviously wanted to keep a secret.

She hesitated while Temlan recovered from the onslaught. hen before she could stop herself, "So it's Temlan, uh."

"Yes." He answered simply. "Are you coming for my head now, damn polite of you to wait for the end of the quickening."

"I'm not tired of my life just yet, thank you very much. I don't do fights I can't win."

"Glad to hear that." The boy placed his sword back in its scabbard and said: "Sorry about the lies."

"No problem. So how old are you really?"

***London, 1926***

It was an ordinary and dreary Monday morning in the city as once again an angry husband threw the gallant yet
unrelenting flirt, Hugh Fitzcairne, out of a home. The poor guy was trying to shoot our favourite swashbuckler whom as usual had trouble staying balanced while running for his life. His decency was once again the true loser in this battle as he tried to pull up his pants while getting the hell away from his lover's house. He was almost too occupied, and drunk on top of that, to feel the buzz of an approaching immortal.

Almost that is.

He rushed into an alley and tried to pull out his sword, which he'd been lucky enough to have with him when he'd
been caught earlier. His head was still spinning from the excellent wine his date had been serving him all through the night. "Oh man" was all he got out at first as he tried to lift his sword up withhout falling "Can't you come back tomorrow, I'm really not in the mood for a fight now."

"Now why would I want that." A cheerful younger voice stated. "You know Fitz, for a man your age, you always surprise me with the kind of trouble you get yourself in."

"Tommy!" The big Englishman tried to hug the kid in front of him and almost fell while reaching out for him. "Man am I glad to see you, I almost thought I'd given some headhunter a free pass."

The boy took his friend in his arms and hugged him back.

Tommy still looked like a kid, just like when he and Fitz had met for the first time, somewhat over 4 centuries ago. The boy had seemed terrified. He'd been unfortunate enough to have met up with some of the more dangerous and less moral of their kind. Fitz had off course tried to protect the boy and had taught him all he could. But in the end he hadn't had a choice but to let the boy go and make his own way in the world. Each time he'd met up with the kid afterwards he'd been happily surprised to see him still alive. "Come on Tommy my boy." He slurred out. "Get me home will you."

The boy let Fitz rest his arm around his shoulder and almost dragged his big load to a cab. When they finally
arrived at Fitzes out of town home, Tommy with some help from the driver who wanted to get rid of the drunk as soon as possible, got the Englishman out of the cab. The boy paid the driver and pulled his friend into the building. Fitz was obviously still searching for steady ground. After helping the man to his bed Tommy went to the kitchen. A disaster as usual. Luckily he'd been prepared for this. The boy took out some herbs and other ingredients from his own bag and began preparing dinner.

When the housekeeper came in, he politely reassured her he was a friend and asked her to get him some groceries. She was back soon. She had seen him bring Fitz back in, so she was ready enough to trust him, but still. An hour later someone knocked on the door. Tommy gave the onions he was working on to the housekeeper, but he still kept the knife he had in his hand.

Carefully he placed it in his sleeve as he felt the buzz signaling the arrival of not just one but two immortals.
He tensed up. Then as he opened the door and saw who it was he partially relaxed. The tall but slender woman with long black curly hair at least was someone he knew. Amanda, he thought.

Still the boy didn't fully let his guard down, the second immortal was a stranger. He was a tall man with short black hair. The typical warrior-type. Before the woman could accidentally ruin his cover, he blurted out:

"Amanda, am I glad to see you. I'm not sure whether you remember me or not. I'm Tommy Moore, I'm an old friend of Fitz I used to be his student."

"Ah yes, Tommy. I remember." She gently placed her long fingers on his shoulder. He easily rubbed it of. Then like if she just remembered who was with her. "Tommy I'd like to introduce you to a friend. Both Fitzes and mine. This is Duncan Mac Leod."

"The youngest Highlander?" Tommy showed the two of then in. "Fitz told me a lot about you, especially about the stunts the two of you pulled."

"So where is that dirty Sassenach."

"In his bed, where he belongs. He was starting to feel relieved when he felt me. It seemed like if he'd have been happy if someone took his head."

The boy went of to the kitchen again and took up the job he'd left behind. He took out some of the ingredients the housekeeper had gotten him, while Duncan helped him with the vegetables.

About two hours later, it was about noon and the two immortals were just finishing up, they suddenly felt the
new buzz approaching then. "You still here Tommy" was all the guy got out. Then seeing the two others in the room. "Duncan, Amanda! What are you two doing here. I wasn't expecting either of you." He hastily tried to close up his bathrobe. "Though I must say Amanda, that your company is as lovely as always. Especially as a wake up call."

"Don't worry Fitz, we're just talking a bit to Tommy here."

"The food is ready by the way."

Tommy took out some plates and spread the rice. None of the others had even heard of the dishes he'd prepared, but all were more than delighted by then.

After the meal Amanda took Tommy apart.

"Does Fitz know who you really are?"

"No, not yet anyway. And I'd like to keep it that way. Fitz is a good friend. I'm afraid that if he found out ... I'm not sure how he'd react."

"You shouldn't underestimate him, Temlan. No matter how much he may look like one, he isn't a fool."

"I never underestimate anyone, especially my friends." The both of them stood still for a second after which they rejoined the others."

The housekeeper wasn't sure what to do. After taking a look at the blue tattoo on her wrist she quickly noted down that Tommy was hiding something from Fitzcairne and Amanda knew about it. Unfortunately the report never came in as the note mysteriously disappeared before she could bring in her rapport. Sadly enough she herself died, a victim of a random mugging the next day.

*Riverdale 1999*

***St. Martin High School***

"Tommy. Tommy! Wait up for me will you!"

The young boy stopped in his tracks as the girl came at him. For a few moments Lisa didn't know what to say. Tommy Moore was one of those guys that are hard to miss. He was cute, smart and he even had a bit of a mystery hanging around him. She took one look at his athletic build, his fair complexion with not even one freckle to ruin the perfection of his angelic face. He had dark chestnut hair with a slight curl in the front that added to his over-all cuteness and green-blue eyes that reminded her of a muddy lake. There wasn't much she or anyone else knew about him, but he was one of the only guys in her own class she'd even consider dating. The boy looked up at her and asked: "What can I do for you Lisa?"

What about you and me alone ... Oh man that voice, it's like honey, "I'm not sure whether you heard but we're organising a ball next Saturday."

"I've been told about It."

Oh please say something more, even one more word is to die for.

"You do know that it's girls pick this time?" Tommy nodded. "Would you ... you know, would you want to be my date?" The boy seemed to consider it. That was another thing Lisa liked about him, he didn't immediately jump on the offer like any of the other drooling morons would have. (Like that Burt Green for one thing, the guy was practically begging for rejection. Hanging around any girl in school, hoping even one of then would ask him out.) Tommy wasn't like that, he was so much more mature than that. And that wasn't just because he could have any girl he even looked at. After a few moments of hesitation, the boy finally agreed to go.

When the immortal turned away from the happy look on the young girl's face, his eyes looked weary. It was moments like these that really brought up his advanced years and made him realise how old he really was.

Most of the time he could forget that he had four numbers in his age, but then again ... It wasn't easy to keep pretending to be an average kid. How many times can a person live his live over and over without losing his mind? As he walked away the girl followed him. It seemed like if she wanted a conversation. Luckily 'Tommy' was saved by the bell.

In the next few days Temlan tried to avoid the girl as much as possible without rearing suspicion. He avoided a joined assignment by teaming up with Burt Green. It bothered him a bit. Not that he disliked the kid. Burt wasn't all that bad. A bit nerdish, but that could be overlooked. It was his pre-immortal Buzz that kept playing up with Temlan's system. A few times during the week Temlan even thought he sensed a full-fledged immortal. He shrugged it off as nerves. As far as he knew there wasn't another immortal in town.

*St. Martin High School: Dance*

On the big night Temlan took his Lotus to Lisa's house. This was the first time she'd ever seen the car. Temlan usually drove his bike to school, but he realised he couldn't do that to Lisa. The wind alone would ruin her hair and the ride itself wouldn't be good on whatever kind of outfit she would wear. He rang the bell but since it wouldn't work he just knocked on the door. Almost as soon as he took his hand from the wood the door was pulled open. A large man stood in front of him. Temlan looked at him with a shy smile. "Mister Keller?"

"So you're Lisa's date." Temlan heard the challenge in the man's voice, do you think you're good enough for my daughter? Temlan tried his most innocent look as he nodded yes. The man let him in. It was only now that Temlan noticed his uniform. The man was a cop. A sergeant if he could read it right.

"I'm Thomas Moore."

"So Thomas," he didn't offer the boy a seat, "what do your parents do for a living?"

For a second Temlan considered answering with the truth: 'My father died 5.000 years ago and my mother is the religious and political leader of a race that is believed to be either extinct or demonic. Most people think she's just a demon.' But he stopped himself. "My parents died years ago." The man was shook up, but he refused to show it. Temlan quickly answered his next question before it was even asked, "My brother Adam is taking care of me. He has a different father."

"It can't be easy for either of you."

"I'm not that much trouble and Adam is a researcher. As long as I don't ruin his tomes and scrolls he's more than happy."

"He seems to be a good man."

"He is." Just at that moment the interrogation was interrupted as Lisa came down. Mister Keller was breathless at the sight of his little girl in a party-dress. She just looked so grown up. Temlan smiled at her, took her hand and softly touched it with his lips. "Shall we Milady." Lisa chuckled. Outside Lisa's older sister Carmen was admiring the car. When she saw Temlan come out, she almost regretted he was only 16.

Mister Keller whistled out loud as he noticed the Lotus for the first time. "Your brother lets you ride that?" He asked to Temlan.

Temlan hesitated for a second. "Uhm it's mine. I inherited a lot of money and I'd wanted a Lotus since the first time I saw one. So I bought me one."

"Talking about spoiling yourself. I hope you didn't waste your entire inheritance on that thing."

"No. Of course not. I only get a stipend until I reach 21. Until then my brother takes care of my finances."

"You could buy a Lotus from a monthly stipend?" Carmen asked. "Just how big is this inheritance of yours?"

"A few million." Temlan answered. It was the usual lie. He liked his luxury a bit too much to pretend to be a meager graduate student like Methos. He still remembered the time he'd been a king. No matter how much he hated it when someone even mentioned the name, Gilgamesh was still a big part of him. He didn't always use his wealth but he enjoyed it when he had the chance. Aside of that the cover of snobbish rich kid had never harmed him, much.

To avoid answering questions Temlan quickly opened the door for Lisa. As they left he took special care not to act to careless. He parked the Lotus as close to the gym as possible and helped Lisa to get out as graciously as possible. When Temlan came in with Lisa, the dance had already gone on for about an hour.

Several kids were on the floor, moving to the beat of the latest Will Smith-record. Temlan liked this kind of music. It brought back the 'music' of his own childhood. Drums and beat; with a recounting voice. Like sitting near to the campfire all over again. Only the language and the subjects were different. The storytellers of the old days never cursed this much. He tried to entertain his date, give her a nice night and such. Still he felt distracted.(Lilin would be in town soon)

All of a sudden he looked up as he felt the buzz warning him. Another of his kind was in the immediate vicinity. He wasn't at all sure what to do. It could be Lilin, Methos or...but what if it wasn't someone he knew. If he just ran
of, the immortal in question might harm these innocent children, these mortals. But it wasn't that he could fight in front of them either.

He told Lisa he had to leave for a second and went out searching for the other immortal. As he left the building he saw a single man stand ready. It was a robust man. At least 6 ft tall. He had short blond hair cut military style. The way he stood, prepared, also revealed a long military history. Temlan carefully looked him over. He instantly noted that there was a long and heavy sword in the man's hand, one of those like the ones you often see on those sword and sorcery movies. That could not be easy to wield. It was strangely at odds with the mans stylish black tuxedo.

"Charles Ashton Green, At your service."

"Thomas Moore."

"What's your purpose here boy."

"School dance, school pupil, take a guess."

"So you're playing the kid uh."

"And you?"

"Chaperone. My son goes to school here."

"Burt Green?"

The man nodded.

"Nice kid, if only he could get his mind out of the gutter were girls are concerned. He doesn't seem to get the difference between real-life girls and centerfolds."

"So you know him?"

"I'm a classmate of his."

"To bad. Burt won't like it if he hears one of his friends ended up death."

"There is no real reason for us to fight. Especially here."

"What are you boy, a coward. Of course we have to fight. It is our destiny. And I don't like sharing my town."

"I you believe in the Gathering so much, then why do you raise a son who will one day be one of us."

"What are you talking about." The man seemed genuinely surprised.

"You didn't know? That would have been a nice surprise. And you dare call me a child."

The man prepared to attack as unbeknown to the both of then Lisa was standing in the doorway and had heard most of the conversation.

"No!" The girl screamed as she saw her date stand across a man with a big Conan-sword in his hand.

Luckily for him, Temlan had not yet unsheathed his own sword. "Oh great spirits. Lisa no."

"Girlfriend? Sorry pal, but I can't leave any witnesses behind." Before Temlan could react he'd taken his gun and shot the girl.

Temlan caught his breath. Then slowly he stated. "I warn you sir. I am not as easy a prey as you may well believe."

"A child like you." Green started laughing. All of a sudden he stopped laughing and attacked. Temlan stopped the first attack with his arm and took the brief pause to pull out his own katana-like sword. "If you leave now you live to see another day. If you don't..." The immortal laughed in his face and renewed his attack. The following fight was short but ruthless. Temlan could not allow this man to return later and harm Lisa or his own son. Within minutes the mans head was lying in the mud and Temlan shuddered under the rampage caused by the quickening. As far as quickenings went it wasn't a powerful one. Green couldn't have been more than 200. As soon as the light show stopped he turned to the girl and placed his hands on her chest. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated. Blue sparks of electricity seemed to leave his hands and miraculously the girl's wounds started closing up and faded into nothing. The girl opened her eyes and shivered from delayed shock. She stared at Temlan and then it hit her. The other man. She started looking around frantically and immediately noticed the beheaded corpse. Before she knew it she was screaming her heart out.

The doors flung open and several students streaming out noticed Temlan as he placed his katana back in his coat. He just stood up, slowly backed out of the light and started running. When the police arrived, all the students were still discussing the corpse and Tommy The headhunter. That was about the only thing everyone was certain off. That there was a headless corpse and that Tommy had been responsible.

* Later that night, Joe's bar *

It was a busy evening and nearly every seat in the club was taken. Joe was standing behind the bar, cleaning glasses when he looked up and saw the young man, no more like a boy, enter.

A bit too young, Joe thought. The kid can't really expect us to serve him. He looks barely 16. With a disappointed look in his eyes he came up to the bar." A Heineken please." The bartender was surprised at the adult tone in his voice, but still asked him for an ID. The boy took out a wallet and said: "Which one, 1982, 1973, 1955, I've even kept a few from the Napoleanic era." Mike looked baffled. "Don't look so stunned Watcher. I just want a drink OK. And I don't feel like waiting five years till my current ID catches up with the legal drinking age."

Mike mumbled a sound of agreement. He was surprised and angry with himself that he hadn't immediately recognised the immortal in front of him. It wasn't like if there were that many teenaged immortals around. But how had the adolescent immortal found out about the Watchers.

"Hey Dawson!" Moore suddenly said to Joe. "Have you seen Adam Pierson lately, I heard he comes here quite often and I really, really need to speak to him."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

Joe wasn't sure. Moore wasn't supposed to know Methos, his chronicles didn't ever mention a meeting between them. Moore wasn't thought to be a headhunter though.

Just when Joe considered his response, Methos ,a.k.a. Adam Pierson came in. The old watcher worried about his friend's reaction. Why would the old man have come in at all. With an immortal inside and all that. Methos wasn't the careless kind and he didn't make a habit out of enjoying meetings with other immortals unprepared. He would have expected all but what happened. Methos dropped his disguise as a grad student and the look on his face became more open than Joe had ever seen him before. Then a stream of ancient words began coming out of his mouth. Earlier experience had thought Joe that these were some of the worst curses possible. Curses, that in the ancient days that these languages were still used, would have made even the hardest sailor blush, but not so with Moore. And no that wasn't because he didn't know the meaning of the words, cause as soon as he saw an opening he responded with curses that if Joe's memory served him right were even worse and older as well. The two immortals approached each other under the looks of everyone in the bar. Then suddenly a broad grim showed on both their faces and the two embraced each other like...well like brothers. There was not even the slightest show of caution in their movements towards one another. Just when the kid got free from Methos' hold on him Amanda followed the old man in.

"Tommy!"

"Hi Amanda. What's this Methos. I thought you were supposed to be telling me about the women in your life, but you and Amanda." The boy laughed while winking suggestively.

"I only wish. She's dating some cop these days. Him or that Highland boyscout." Then before either Moore or Amanda could react to that. "Now Kéfé Su, mind telling me what you're doing here. In this bar that is, I didn't think you liked attracting attention."

"Why my dear Kéfe can't I just visit?"

"You never just visit." Methos answered promptly.

The boy took a last sip from his beer and ordered another one. "I need your help with something."

"I could have guessed. What's up this time?"

"This time? It's not like I've asked your help all that often."

"It isn't? You could have fooled me."

"I'm in trouble with the law. Some kid challenged me and I couldn't get away before witnesses showed up. You don't mind bordering a wanted fugitive do you."

"Which kid?"

"Some guy called Green. Charles Ashton Green. I told him to get lost, but he decided he'd rather play." The boy looked at him with a full puppy-dog appeal.

Methos off course caved to it. "Anything else you need."

"A name?" He saw the light in Methos eyes. "Tim Pierson will do just fine. Thank you very much."

"Oh would it."

"Definitely."

They both remembered the last time Methos had helped Temlan out with an ID. Methos had actually gone as far as naming him Gilbert Gordon Mesh. Temlan had enjoyed twisting a knife through his dear older brothers heart for that one. Literally. He'd taken the jagged one and had turned it around a few times. Methos knew all to well how much the kid hated his time as Gilgamesj. It was probably why he used the name so much. Methos smiled an innocent smile in the kids way then he turned to Joe Dawson. "Joe, meet my brother Tom."

"Brothers." Joe repeated once again.

"Yes Joe, brothers. I've known the guy since he was a kid. Long before Fitzcairne took him in" The old man didn't bother to tell the Watcher that long before was actually over 45 centuries or so. " Joe started worrying when he noticed the boy's gaze. He wondered about it then he saw its direction. The beertap and the kid, no the immortal had asked for a beer. The Watcher finally decided to give in.

"While you're in such a helping mood, mind lending me some money till I get some of my finances rearranged."

"Sure." Methos chuckled. "But I expect that money back, every last penny."

"Yeah right. You still owe me money from that time in Athens, when you were courting my son."

"Hey whatever else people may have said Temie, I was not courting him. I'll have you know Socrates and I were no more than friends. The boy was as straight as they get, like if you didn't know that."

"Then why did you keep buying him those trinkets, can you tell me that?"

When no answer came, Temlan just laughed at the semi-embarrassed look on his older brother's face.

"You know Methos. I think I like this new mortal friend of yours. Maybe I should warn him about your tendency to put off paying your debts. Before long you owe him a debt the size of the national debt, without ever even considering paying for it."

"Hey, I'll have you know kefé, I always pay my debts."

"When? I can't seem to remember a single occasion of you paying me back a debt within a mortal lifetime. What were you planning to do? Pay your debt to Dawsons great-grandchildren?" The two immortals could do nothing but laugh after that one, leaning even further back in their uncomfortable seats.

***Meanwhile somewhere in Chicago***

The camera showed the reporter in clear view of a school. "Earlier this day the small town of Riverdale was shook up by the gruesome murder of Charles Green. Green had recently moved to Riverdale and was said to be a successfull but quiet buisnessman. Only a few hours ago, students interrupted 16-year old Thomas Moore right after he'd just killed one of the chaperones of the dance he'd just attended. Charles Green was a well-respected citizen of the community and father of one of the boys on St. Martin High. Police wouldn't comment on the speculation that Moore might be connected to some sort of Satanic cult. Especially considering the recent rise in deaths by decapitation. Statistics seem to show that the amount of deaths by beheading have increased threefold in the past ten years alone." The reporter kept going on as the picture was shown of the suspect.

The sight of the boy's face was burned in the memories of several immortals watching the news and shocked the living daylights out of one other. "Loki. He's still alive. So the gods help me, he's still alive. That son of a bitch is still alive." The man just packed his bags and left.

Just so you know this story isn't completely finished yet.What the heck. Maybe posting this can force me to finally finish the story.

"Too late for Vengeance"
by lore (Nekron)

Rating: PG13(scenes of torture)
Summary: 3.000 years ago Nekron lost everything he held dear to Loki, now he wants revenge. But what to do if the Loki he knew no longer exists?
Feedback: Just send it to lilith93@h...
This follows directly after The Kid.

Part two

"I still remember the first time I met him. I'd just lost my first wife, Sunni."

***3025 BC ***

Methos drove his horse over the tundra. Not really noticing whom or what he passed by. His eyes were cold. Devoid of emotion. When he rode into camp his sudden stop created a cloud of dust around him. The nomads looked upon him with weary eyes. He wasn't sure what to do. Their great-grandparents would have welcomed him as a member of the tribe, but to these people he was no more than a stranger. A possible threat to them all.

"Is the Mother still here?" he asked calmly, hoping that she was even though he hadn't seen his mother for over the span of four generations...

"What do you want from the Mother?" He looked at the man, an obvious warrior.

"I ..." But before he could answer he could feel the ringing of her Buzz approach him. He quickly stepped of his horse and fell to his knees in front of her. "Mother." And for the first time in weeks he allowed himself to cry. She just knelt down beside her and took his head in her lap. Comforting him with her presence. Understanding without a word what he was going through.

Then the sound crying interrupted them. Methos looked up in surprise at the baby on her back. "Majal?"

"Matta, meet your new brother,we're calling him Temie."

"Song? It fits him, he sure has the lungs for it."

Jo'lon laughed and pulled her son up with her.

"Gegen." she said to one of the men. "This is my son Methos. He has returned to us."

Gegen offered him his hand and looked the young immortal over. Methos immediately returned the favor. The mortal was big and strong. Methos thought he could fit almost twice in the big hunter. His grip was steady and firm, but his eyes stood friendly.

"Methos this is Gegen. Temie's father and my new husband."

Methos looked at the man in surprise.

The next few months Methos spent his time trying to get Sunni out of his mind. At first he just drank some more beer. But as the days went on he could no longer take the reproving eyes his mother threw at him. He started helping out in the camp. Little things, but enough to make him feel useful. He didn't really attach himself to anyone. Sure Gegen was nice, but he was a mortal. What use would it have to attach yourself to someone who would die anyway? Then one day he was carrying on some wood for the fire and Temie came crawling towards him. He just dropped the wood and picked the child up. He just wanted to bring it back to their mother and forget about him, but the little boy wouldn't let him. The baby looked at him with its crystal blue eyes and a part of Methos' heart started to melt. He spoke to the child in soothing tones and took it with him. Leaving the wood on the ground behind him.He'd return for it later.

And so the years past on. Wherever Methos went Temie wouldn't be far off. He couldn't go hunting or the kid would try and follow him in the woods. And every time Methos had to leave him he would cry his eyes out. Only to fall into leaps of joy each time his older brother entered the camp. Jo'lon and Gegen just enjoyed the moments of privacy it gave them.

*****

"So Jo'lon raised him? Is that suddenly supposed to make it alright?"

"She did more than raise him Joe."

*****

Temlan had grown up perfectly. He was 16 now and had gained his real name. Temlan or Earthsong. Calmly he approached his horse. He gently touched its beautiful black manes and put his blanket on its back before climbing on. His bare legs brushed against the horses torso. At first he rode calmly letting the animal get warmed up before truly starting. He started racing the horse and made it jump over bushes. Then he saw his mother and brother. That off course sent him into overdrive. He leaned over to the horses ear and whispered a single command. The horse immediately increased in speed. Temlan carefully began moving alongside the horse. It was a trick he'd perfected some time ago and he enjoyed the pride in his brothers eyes. But then just as they neared the cliff the horse suddenly shied. Temlan tried to hold on, but he just couldn't. His last thought as he was falling was the disappointed look his brother would have. He felt some more pain as he came tumbling down the cliff and fell still against the bottom of the ravine.

When his eyes opened he saw that the sun was standing somewhat lower in the sky. The night hadn't fallen yet, but it came close.Then the sun was blocked as he saw his mother and Methos hanging over him. "Majal, Matta?" His mother was crying. In all his life he'd never seen her cry before. Methos held on to her and looked at him with some sort of pain in his eyes. That and a coldness he'd never seen in his brother before. "Majal?" The boy uttered once again. "Matta? What happened to me?"

*****

"He'd died of course. But what could we do? He'd be trapped at age 16 for the rest of his life. At first mom wanted me or someone else to kill him. To end his suffering."

"Why?"

"Come on Joe, you've seen what happens. Take Kenny for example. Only very few child-immortals manage to retain their sanity over the centuries. And the ones that do are usually female. Probably because they mature faster and are treated as children anyway. The idea of Temie being corrupted was unbearable for either of us."

******

That night Temlan was lying restlessly on his plaid. He quietly slipped out of the tent to look for Methos. Neither his brother nor his mother had wanted to tell him what had happened.

"We have to do it Methos."

"I can't mother. Please don't make me." Methos was practically sobbing at this point.

"Do you want him to live like this? Do you?"

"I don't want him to die."

"Neither do I. But it's for the best."

"No!" Temlan couldn't stop himself. Totally shocked by his mother's cold words. When they both looked in his direction he didn't wait for explanations and just ran. That was his mother and she wanted to kill him. Her and Matta. Methos and Jo'lon immediately followed after him, but Temlan got to the horses and jumped on one of them. For a moment Methos stood there watching, then the tension broke and he jumped on one of the other horses and raced after his brother. Tears fell over Temlan's eyes. This was the first time in his admitted short life that he really felt alone. The people he loved wanted to kill him, his own mother wanted him death and even Methos ...

He hadn't gotten far though when he saw Methos follow him. He immediately made his horse speed up. A dangerous race went on. Brother against brother. They past a course they'd raced on plenty of times before. Both knew the route by heart. But this time something was different. This time it wasn't a friendly game but a matter of life or death. Temlan nearly got away when he forgot one thing and his horse fell. He tried to get up and run away, but his brother had already caught up with him.

"Please Methos." The boy pleaded, "I don't want to die."

Methos tried to be cold looking at his brother while holding his sword in his hands.

"I'm sorry Temie, but it's for the best." Temlan shivered as his brothers sword came down towards him.

*****

"So what happened? You obviously didn't kill him."

"No but I came close." Methos poured himself a beer. "I loved him and I almost killed him."

"So what saved him?"

"I'm still not sure why, but when I saw his eyes looking at me like that. In total betrayal, I couldn't go through with it. I just stopped. He didn't move, didn't look at me. Nothing. I pulled him on my horse and took him home. He didn't even resist. He still trusted me. Me!!"

*****

Temlan was shivering when he stood in front of his mother. He couldn't utter a single word.

"Temie ..." He turned away, refusing to look at her.

"I'm sorry Temie. But it's for the best."

For a few moments Temlan just stood there. Not saying a word.

"Why?"

"You're immortal Temie. Your first death started the immortality inside you."

"And you're planning to kill me because of that?"

"You're 16 Temlan. It may be fun and games now, but what about tomorrow , next year, next century ... You'll never grow any older than you are now. You'll never become much stronger. Sure you can train, but even that won't do much. Can you live like that? In constant fear?"

"Of what? That you're going to kill me?"

"Not that. There are others like us out there. Many of them will see you as easy prey and will try to kill you because of that. It's part of the Game."

"What game?"

"The Game. Remember the prophecy. The end times. When the eternal warriors will fight 'till the end when only one is left. And the One will determine the future. Can you handle that struggle Temlan?"

"I don't know?"

"So you see..."

"What and you won't even give me a chance. Is that it? You think I'm already dead, don't you?"

"I love you Temlan ..."

"So what? I want to live Mother of the night. If you can't understand that then I'll just leave. I'll fight you if I have to. But I don't want to die."

Jo'lon looked at him. Not sure what to do.

"I'll train him majal." They both stared at Methos. The both of them had momentarily forgotten he was still there. "He deserves a chance."

"Good. He's your student then. But remember this Methos, you're responsible for him. And I hope it won't hurt him to much."

She looked at them as they got ready to leave.

"I still love you Temie."

Temlan didn't answer. He just went on.

*****

New part

"That still doesn't explain it."

"Nothing ever does Joe." Methos went and poured himself another beer. "What Temlan did as Loki, and believe me, every story you've heard is probably true as hell and not even half as bad as he really was, all of it, was my fault."

*****

It was early in the morning and Temlan was enjoying the morning sun. He'd chanted to the spirits and thanked them for their gifts and now he was ready to see to the mortals in his village. He softly hummed as he stepped through the mud that made up the street.

Suddenly something felt wrong. He'd learned to trust his instincts and mentally prepared himself for anything. He didn't increase his pace, but started heading for the chieftains cabin nontheless. Suddenly it hit him. The sensation of not just one, but four immortals. He raced up to the hills and was just in time to see them standing in the dawn.

Four Horsemen. All masked and dressed in armor.

The Horsemen. War, Famine, Plague and Death they called themselves. And they were that and much more to the people at whom they'd struck. Several of the men came up behind the teenage immortal as he stood there watching the nightmare come to life. Terror was etched on their faces. All were ready to run and Temlan wasn't stubborn or arrogant enough to refuse that as the right response. But still he kept standing and when the Horsemen attacked he stood ready to answer their challenge. Soon he was fighting two of them. He recognized them as War and Famine. He knew he could beat them, but still he held back a bit, ready to face the other two as well. The boy could see the third Horseman Plague standing there, watching the fight. But were was Death?

All of a sudden the white-dressed warrior stood in front of him. The other two backed of a bit. He pulled of his mask and Temlan could see his face. Half of it was covered in blue paint. But he could still recognise it. And it froze him in terror. Matta. Methos.

For no more than a moment he stood frozen in shock, but in that moment War knocked him out, killing him with his axe. And the last thing the boy saw was his brothers grinning face while the light faded away.

It took hours before the boy woke up again. When he did he found out he couldn't move. Pain coursed through him at every movement. He felt how something cold and hard was stabbing through his hands and feet. It was holding him to the ground. Warm sand rushed over his face as he lay there, tied to some kind of wooden canvas. He could feel the damped clotter of dried blood on his chest. He tried to look up as he felt the approach of several immortals. But it wasn't necessarry. The big one pulled up the canvas and the boy came face to face with them. He could see them clearly through his blooddazed eyes.

The boy remained silent as the Horsemens scarred leader approached him. The man lifted up his head.

"Nice catch Methos, are you sure you don't want to share?"

Temlan almost looked up at his brother in relief. Methos would get him out of this. He wouldn't let him down. But Methos just grinned and took out his knife.

"Nah, this one's all mine."

And all of Temlans hope and belief in his brother was shattered as he felt the knife's cold touch in the glowing hot sun as it pierced through his skin.

*****

"I tortured him for three days and nights. Played with him, with his pain, his suffering. Joe you can't imagine the suffering an immortal can go through and survive. Things that would have killed a mortal, but that for an immortal are only temporary. I hurt him more than any mortal has ever felt."

Joe couldn't believe it. If what Methos said about the boy trusting him was true then this must have been ...

"How far ... how much ..."

"Think bad, multiplate it by one thousand and add some more to it. I didn't just torture him, I skinned him, inch by inch, by inch. Ever had that happen to you Joe? It's worse than being burned. Then I ... raped him and hurt him some more."

"Why?"

"To protect him."

Joe let out a sarcastic grinnicking. "To protect him? How could torturing, raping and so on ... protect him. What worse could have happened?"

Methos sat there silently. Gazing inwardly. "Kronos could have killed him. He could have given him to Caspian. I had to make it convincing. I had to make Kronos believe the boy was no more than an object to relieve my anger on. If he hadn't believed that ... if he'd known what Temlan really was to me ... Temlan would have never survived it. Or worse. And that I could not allow."

Joe suddenly reminded himself of Bordeaux. How Methos had allowed Kronos to capture Cassandra. He hadn't actually cared about what happened to the poor woman. All she'd been to him was way to get Mac angry enough to face Kronos. No she was more to him. But when it came down to it, Methos didn't shy away from hurting someone to get the results he wanted. Even with people he cared about. Even with himself. To the old man pain was just a tool.

"So your torturing led him to becoming Loki?"

"In a way. To be honest, it wasn't really the torturing. If Kronos or Caspian would have done it, he would have gotten over it. If it had been a stranger, it wouldn't even have been worth mentioning. But the fact that it was me doing it, hurting him, that's what drove him insane."

*****

Methos could see the boy writhe under his hands. Kronos looked at it in wild arousal. Soon the man would be to occupied by other thoughts to be aware of his real plan. He quickly looked around. There were quite a few slaves in the camp but only two immortal ones. Silas' woman and Kronos' girl. Danni. He'd be furious if she got away.

Pretending to leave to get some more toys, he went to prepare some things. He wasn't sure but finally he decided on a knife, it would be just right. Not to sharp, but enough to give the girl the right idea. He was careful to leave the knife near her sleepingplace. It wouldn't do to have Kronos find out he was even remotely involved with the girls escape. All day he waited for her to act while seeming occupied with the boy.

It was nightfall before something happened. He could see her sneak away but didn't alarm anyone. If she were caught to fast, his entire plan would be ruined.

But fate deals a hard hand. When he got back to Temlan, ready to warn the boy of his plan he was missing. Leaving nothing but ropes, blood and gore. And inwardly Methos cried, for he knew the boy would not understand. Not now, not anymore.

The next few months Methos waited for something to happen. To hear something from Temlan. It was useless. The rest of his life was as usual. Kronos had been furious when he found out the two slaves had escaped. Especially about his Danni. He hadn't been bored with her yet. He even pretended to understand Methos' annoyance for taking his plaything with her. Enjoying himself with his brother for losing their propperties. The man didn't even understand his 'brother' was repulsed by him.

It didn't take long for Methos to get the hang of things. Everything soon turned back to normal. They rode, they fought, they killed. They took everything they wanted not caring one bit about anyone else. And when they rode in a village and everyone ran in fear they enjoyed their victims panic. Indulging themselves in the feeling of power it gave them.

But more and more often other reports reached them. Someone beat them to their targets. Once one of their victims even seemed relieved that it were only the Horsemen attacking them and not Loki. It infuriated Kronos to no end. How could they do this? How could they fear someone else more than they feared the Horsemen? But no matter how many spies he sent out, the only thing he found was what Loki left behind him. Bodies, ruins and pain.

To be continued

Disclaimer: The characters of Chance Harper and Audrey Westin, and the concept of overactive luck, as presented on Strange Luck, belongs to Karl Schaeffer, Unreality, Inc., and Fox Broadcasting, etc, as does the city of Xa, California and the Examiner newspaper. San Diego is the joint property of all of us who live here. :-) Everything else in this story is mine.

"Right Place, Right Time"
by JJ (Giver and Vi)

"Have you ever thought of getting a laptop?" Audrey Westin inquired with a quirk of a smile as she watched Providence Sanders struggle to download her latest article onto a floppy disk. The computer at her desk was being its usual uncooperative self.

Vi let out an exasperated exclamation as yet another error message popped up on the screen. "Are you kidding?" she demanded of the editor. "And risk getting it stolen every time I leave the building?"

Audrey laughed. Coming out of just about anyone else's mouth, that statement would have sounded paranoid. But Vi Sanders was not just anyone. Like her cousin, Chance Harper, she gave new definition to the expression "trouble magnet." Murphy's Law seemed to take a perverse pleasure in hovering over the entire Sanders family, throwing at least one narrowly-averted disaster into their lives every day.

"Come on, it's not like you wouldn't get it back."

Vi grinned. "I know, but who knows what might be on it by that time? The next Unabomber's manifesto?"

"Fine, you've made your point." The blonde rose from her seat on the other woman's desk. "Now get out of here," she teased. "Before you jinx--"

At that moment, all the lights in the building flared suddenly and went out with a loud hiss. "Oh, damn," Audrey swore in the sudden darkness.

"I didn't do it!" Vi blurted out instinctively.

"Sure you didn't," was the amused reply. "The fact that we've never lost power before the day you're here late due to computer trouble is completely irrelevant."

"I didn't say that."

The photo editor chuckled, and a hand came down in the darkness to pat the other woman's shoulder. "Well, there's no point in you staying now. Go on, go stop a hostage situation or something."

"But my article--"

"Will be more interesting after today, if the pattern holds. See you tomorrow, Vi."

The writer listened for a moment to the sound of Audrey's heels disappearing into the distance. Then she grinned in the darkness, gathered up her oft-stolen purse, and left the building. The lights came back on as soon as the door closed behind her.

Vi looked up at the building in amusement. "Figures," she murmured.

Letting out a resigned little sigh, the writer turned and trotted down to the parking garage. She had almost reached her parking space before she noticed that it was suspiciously...empty.

"Not again," she moaned. Frustrated blue eyes swept the inside of the garage, hoping to find the car in another space. Not because she doubted where she had parked it, but just because...well, stranger things had happened. All the time, as a matter of fact.

Wonder what happened this time--was it stolen, or accidentally towed?

Providence fished her cell phone out of her purse as soon as she once again reached the steps of the building, since it wouldn't work in the parking garage. She hit the first speed-dial number and pressed the phone to her ear, letting her eyes sweep over the near-empty street.

"Hello?" her cousin's voice answered.

"Chance? It's Vi--"

"Hey, Vi! Long time, no hear."

Vi smiled. "Yeah, and you know quite well why. Last time we were together, there was an earthquake."

Chance chuckled on the other end of the line. "I remember. So what's up?"

"I'm stranded at the Examiner. I'll give you three guesses why."

"No bet. You want me to come pick you up?"

"If you would. I suppose I could ask Audrey, but..."

She could almost hear him smile. "I understand. Sure, I'll be right there, if I don't meet any expected delays."

His cousin laughed. "I'll expect you in about an hour, then. I'll be on the--" Her voice trailed off when a white stretch limo slowed down in front of the building. The driver's side window rolled down and a middle-aged man with bright red hair poked his head out.

"Excuse me, Miss," he called in a voice with a thick Welsh accent. "Could ya possibly tell me how to get to Clover Street?"

"Vi? Anything I should know about?" Chance asked, concerned. He knew better than to ask if anything was going on.

"I don't know. Just a second..."

Smiling, she stepped down to the sidewalk and smiled at the stranger. "Sure, I can tell you how to get there." I live there. "What's the address?"

The man looked relieved. "813 Clover Street."

Vi blinked, startled, but only for only a moment. That's my building. Naturally. "Mind if I ask why you're looking
for that building?" she asked.

"I'm looking for a Providence Sanders--good name, by the way. The Irish are a hot-tempered lot, but any man as hates the English is okay in my book." The Welshman winked at her.

She laughed. "Thanks for the compliment, I think."

"Beg yer pardon, Miss?"

"I can tell you how to get to 813 Clover Street if you want, but you don't need to go there. I'm Providence Sanders."

The driver stared at her in wonder. "Well, if that ain't a bloomin' piece o' luck." He parked the vehicle, then stuck a hand out the window. "Name's Owain Davies. I was sent to find you."

"Sent by who?" Vi asked warily as she accepted the offered hand. Since the US Government had more than once expressed an unhealthy interest in the family luck, she didn't take anyone at face value.

Owain laughed. "Now, for all I've known her close to a year, I couldn' quite tell ya the answer to that m'self." His expression sobered. "But I can tell ya she can be trusted."

She nodded, satisfied at least for the moment by his sincerity. Lord, I'm trusting you on this one, she prayed silently. Whatever you're getting me into, I believe you can get me out if trouble comes. Just like before.

"Okay, I'll be right with you." Lifting the phone again to her ear, she spoke. "Chance, it seems I have another ride. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" She knew he would understand what to do if she didn't.

"All right," her cousin still sounded a little worried. "Take care of yourself, Vi."

"I will," she promised and hung up.

Then, with a deep breath, Vi Sanders climbed into a limousine for the first time in her life.

*****

Several hours later, Vi felt a tap on her shoulder. She had drifted off to sleep on one of the long seats, lulled by
the smooth ride. She opened her eyes to see Owain smiling at her.

"We're here. Sorry it took so long, but traffic was a bit messier than usual."

The strangely lucky woman smiled. Wonder if he'd believe me if I told him that was because I was his passenger?

She decided not to, though, and instead crawled out of the car. After adjusting to the early-morning daylight, her eyes widened at the sight of an enormous Spanish-style mansion, with gleaming white walls and a red tile roof. She turned back, and found that they were within a large courtyard, separated from the street by a high, white-washed adobe wall, with a beautifully-scrolled cast-iron gate in the center of it.

Well, this certainly looks to be an interesting trip.

She followed Owain into the house, and was led into a large parlor, decorated eclectically with expensive souveniers from all over the world. She spotted a couple of South American masks, a Spanish Toledo sword hanging on one wall, a string of Muslim worry beads, and a clay oil lamp just at a glance.

"Please, sit down."

The voice belong to a young-looking woman with dark hair and bronze skin, who sat in a large, hand-carved wooden chair. She was dressed entirely in white, except for a gold charm which hung at her throat and a gold ring on one hand. Owain was right, she did radiate trustworthiness, as well as an almost unnerving serenity. Obviously she doesn't lead my life.

Curious, Vi accepted the invitation and settled into a similar chair, positioned catty-corner from the other woman, facing a large stone fireplace.

"I hope I'm not late," she apologized.

The stranger shook her head. "No. Whenever you arrived would have been right on time."

With that enigmatic statement, she rose from her seat and crossed to a bookshelf that covered one wall. Drawing down one of the many books, she opened it and brought it back to her seat. As she passed, Vi got a glimpse of something gold and realized the book was false.

"Do you mind if I ask why I'm here?" the writer finally gave in to her curiosity.

"Because you got into my limousine," the other woman quipped, her eyes twinkling.

Providence laughed. "I suppose that's true."

"I sent Owain to find you because it was time for you to be found. Because you have always wondered why you have the gift you have, and this is why." She handed the false book to Vi, revealing its contents to be several pieces of jewelry; a choker, a necklace, a bracelet, a ring, a hair clip, and others. Each piece was adorned with the same peculiar symbol. "Take whichever you will wear."

Somehow, I doubt she brought me all this way for a sales pitch, the writer frowned. "I don't understand. What gift?"

The stranger just smiled.

"You mean my luck?" Vi asked. "The family curse?"

Her hostess nodded. "Some time ago, I was called to bring together those who have some special gift, so that they may use those powers, those abilities, more effectively. So that they will have help when they need it."

"But I don't have any special powers, or abilities," she protested. "Things just happen to me."

"You are often in the right place at the right time," the dark-haired woman agreed. "That is a gift," she pointed out. "Events, situations, are drawn to you. Because God knows you will not turn your back, however much you might want to."

She's right, you know, a voice piped at the back of Vi's mind. What would happen to all those people you helped if you weren't there?

Someone else would have done it, she argued.

Are you sure?

"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked. "This isn't exactly something I can control."

"I will call you when you are needed."

Nodding, Vi reached into the hollow volume and let her fingers trace the different pieces. Which would she wear? Rings she liked, but her right finger had been occupied with her mother's wedding band as long as it had fit, and she didn't expect there would ever be a ring on her left hand. Not until she met the most excitement-tolerant man in the Western World who wasn't already related to her.

A necklace could get broken. Bracelets could fall off. A choker, around her throat, was all too likely to live up to
its name. Earrings were just asking to get lost. Which brought her pretty much back to the ring.

Tentatively, she drew it out and slipped it on the finger that wore her mother's ring. It was too big. Curious, she
tried it on her empty middle finger, which was a perfect fit. Of course.

"All right," she admitted. "I'm still not sure what I can really do, but I'll be there if you need me."

Her hostess nodded. "That is all that is asked of you."

"Just one thing...who are you?"

The darker woman smiled again. "Call me Giver."

*****

As promised, Chance's cell phone rang late that afternoon. He snatched it up and brought it to his ear before the second ring. "Vi?"

"Yeah, it's me. Just wanted to let you know I'm okay. I'm on my way back now."

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. "So, what happened? Where were you?"

Vi laughed on the other end of the line. "I was in San Diego. And as for what happened, well, it was the strangest thing..."

Disclaimer: Rose gets the Chicago Tribune, and (if it is not actually the case) we will pretend that it is delivered in the morning, and has the approximate sections I'm familiar with in my local largeish paper....

"Daily News"
by Melissa (Rose)

Rose went out to get the paper. She was dressed for work--a dark pink skirt and a crisp, ironed white blouse, with sensible shoes. There was a cat sitting on the paper. Keesha, sitting at the breakfast table, saw it and darted to the door.

"Aw, a cat. How cute! Can we keep it, Mama?"

Rose looked at her daughter, eyebrows raised. "Go back to the table, young lady."

"But, Mama!" Keesha reached out to pet the cat.

Rose made shooing motions with her hand. "Git." Keesha reluctantly complied. Rose looked down at the cat. "You, too. Git." The cat sauntered off.

Rose brought the paper back to the table, spread it out, and picked up a strip of bacon. Her daughter snatched the sports section.

"That's funny. Mama, I think the paper made a mistake."

"What's wrong, honey?"

Keesha put the paper in front of her mother, and pointed at the column of youth sports teams scores. "That's the score for the game we're playing today. That's a funny kind of mistake for them to make."

"You're right. That is weird." Rose read the column, then looked the rest of the page over. She noticed the date. "Isn't today the 12th?"

Keesha checked her watch. "Should be, Mama."

"That's odd. The paper says it's the 13th. That's a funny sort of typo to make." She checked the dateline again. "It's not just the number. The paper says it's Tuesday."

Keesha slipped the Lifestyles section out from the stack in front of her mother, and started to read it. "Now this is really weird. You know that fundraising concert they've been hyping that's downtown tonight?"

"The one for the new children's center?"

"Yeah. There's a review of it right here." Keesha glanced at the dateline. "And it says the same date here."

They stared at each other, as the implications sunk in. Then, Keesha said, "We have tomorrow's paper. Cool!"

The strip of bacon forgotten in her hand, Rose stared at her daughter. "The question is, why?"

Keesha looked thoughtful. "Maybe--maybe it's not written in stone, Mama. Maybe it can change."

Rose's eyes grew wide. "Oh. I see what you mean, dear." She bit the strip of bacon, handed the sports section back to her daughter, and started to devour the front page.

Rose had taken the front section of the paper with her to work. After work, she checked one of the articles again, then headed for a nearby intersection. The paper had mentioned a major accident where 3 people were killed, started by a motorist swerving to avoid a pedestrian. There was a picture in the paper of the accident, and Rose positioned herself beside the lamp-post in the picture.

The sidewalk was heavy with traffic, though the road traffic was a bit lighter than normal. Rose looked at every person near the curb. Finally, she spotted a 16-year-old boy with a walkman, who was about to step onto the street during a gap in traffic. Her hand darted out and grabbed his arm.

The boy turned to Rose, clearly about to yell at her for grabbing him. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you suicidal, or just stupid?" Just then, a car whizzed past, that clearly would have run the boy over if Rose had not stopped him from crossing. "May I suggest crosswalks, son. They exist for a reason."

The boy mumbled a sheepish "Yeah. Thanks." and walked away, towards the intersection.

Rose looked at the paper again. In the space that had held the article about the accident, there was instead an article about proposed improvements to City Hall. She murmured a heartfelt "Praise the Lord", then turned and walked home.

Disclaimer: Concepts from Forever Knight and Beauty and the Beast belong to their respective owners, no copyright infringement intended. All characters and content of this story belong to the authors of it.

"Beauty Meets the Beast"
by Liz the Lucky (Elaine)
JJ (Giver)
and Kim (Alexandra)

Dripping wet, Elaine emerged from her pool and walked over to her towel. She dried off, then pushed the button on a speaker/reciever.

"Yes, Steven?" she asked.

"Phone call for ya, Mama 'Laine," Steven's voice answered. "I told her you weren't here, but she said you were and that it's important."

"A'right. Ah'll take it in mah bedroom."

A short time later, Elaine entered her bedroom and opened the closet. Remembering the phone call, she went to another speaker/reciever on the wall and turned it on. "A'right, Steven. Patch it in."

Giver's familiar voice filled the room. "Come to New York, Elaine. Something you can give is needed now."

"New Yahk?" Elaine repeated, her voice venomous.

"New York," the mysterious woman she'd met just weeks ago confirmed. "To a part of the city where people are forgotten. To help an outcast soul."

"New Yahk can rot in hell," the blonde snapped. "Find someone else."

"You would turn your back on someone who has suffered even more at this city's hands than you?"

There was a short pause. "Ain' possible," Elaine then said.

"All things are possible," was the quiet reply.

"It's possible fah the South tah rise again, but Ah don' see that happenin' anay time soon, eithah," Elaine shot back.

"Sometimes we must believe without seeing," Giver returned. "But I will tell you this. The souls I told you of are far better, far truer than the city. Do they not deserve a chance to escape the squalor and desolation it has imprisoned them in?"

Elaine paused again. "They Yanks? Anay damn Yanks cn fend fah themselves."

"Some would say that one of them is not even human," Giver answered softly, a sympathetic sadness in her voice.

That prompted a snort from the blonde. From her experience, Yanks weren't very human, either. But she knew that wasn't what the other woman meant. "Ah'll meet yah at mah home in Tahrontah an' weh cn take it from theah. A'right?"

*****

Alexandra woke with a start. She had had that dream again, the dream about the two strange women who came to her to with the offer of a new life. It seemed like one of her prophetic dreams, but how could it be? Raising her hand, she forced herself to look at it, to remind herself once again that her only safety lay in hiding from strangers. With a sigh, she got up and slipped on her cape, preparing to go on patrol. She really didn't feel like sleeping any more at the moment.

*****

The long white limousine pulled to a stop before the Toronto house, its parking lights gleaming ruby-red in the early darkness. The driver's door opened and a man stepped out, in his mid-forties with a shock of bright red hair and dark brown eyes. Freckles were scattered over his large, ruddy nose, and his voice when he spoke was a pleasant baritone flavored with a musical Welsh lilt.

"I'm assumin' ye want me to just stay here and wait for ye both," he asked as he opened the back door of the limo to reveal the woman who called herself Giver. The interior of the car, as well as the exterior, matched her own outfit--white with a few accents of gold.

"You assume correctly," she answered him with a smile.

"I usually do," the Welshman bragged with a twinkle in his eyes. "Don' ye worry, I'm not goin' anywhere."

He watched as Giver crossed the sidewalk and approached the door of the house, raising one slender hand to knock firmly on it.

The door opened before Giver had a chance to touch it. "A'right, Ah'm heah," Elaine said, stepping out. "Let's get this ovah with. Yah cn fill meh in in the cah."

*****

Some time later, the limo pulled up before a run-down, abandoned building. The arrival drew a pack of curious onlookers, all dressed in tattered clothes that were in various stages of disintegration. Some eyes were wide with wonder, other sour with envy, still others pale and intimidated.

The two women who stepped out of the limo passed untouched through the crowd, although Giver paused more than once to look around her. Elaine pretended to ignore the crowd, although she wasn't always successful. Once she even stopped to hand a candy bar to a small child. The girl looked at Elaine, then unwrapped the bar and gobbled it down.

They then proceeded inside, leaving the group around the limo to gawk at it and at the driver, who proceeded to roll down the window and start telling sheep jokes that had the crowd in stitches.

*****

Gertie scowled as she watched her neighbors acted like fools about the two strangers. In her experience rich people didn't bother with people like them unless they were after something. These two were probably looking to do "good works", helping the little people. She snorted in disdain. That would last only until they got bored and moved onto something else.

Her scorn turned into fear as the two walked unimpeded into the rundown building she called home. She moved quickly after them, only vaguely aware of Richard at her shoulder. She had to cut them off and make sure they didn't get near Alexandra.

Elaine cocked her head and frowned. Someone, make that two someones, was following her and Giver, and she didn't like it. So the next time they passed an open door, she ducked inside and disappeared.

As she rounded the corner, Gertie noticed that one of the women had disappeared. She came to an abrupt stop, then stumbled as Richard ran into her. He quickly grabbed her shoulder and helped her regain her balance. While they were distracted, the missing woman stepped out in front of them.

"Goin' someplace?" the blonde asked.

Giver laid a calming hand on the vampire's arm. "Elaine, do you want to frighten your new guests away before they even arrive?" she asked softly.

Not waiting for an answer, she turned to Gertie and Richard. "We mean you no harm, but we must speak with her, the child of both your hearts."

Gertie was frozen with shock and fear at the stranger's words. Richard stepped forward and replied in a firm voice, "I'm afraid you're mistaken. My wife and I are childless."

"The laday asked yah a question," the blonde stated, locking eyes with Richard. "Weh would appreciate an _honest_ ansah."

"Of course. Our daughter Alexandra is in our apartment. Just follow me and I'll show you." Richard started forward, motioning for them to follow him. Gertie stared at him for a brief moment in shock, then darted after him and grabbed his arm. "Richard, stop! What do you think you're doing??" Richard pulled away from her as if she didn't even exist. Gertie turned on the strangers and hissed, "What have you done to him?!?"

"What makes yah think weh've done anaythin' tah him?" Elaine almost innocently asked. "O'viouslay yah husband realizes weh mean the gahl no hahm an' is jus' tryin' tah beh helpful."

Elaine's vampiric hearing allowed her to be the only one to hear Giver's amused murmur of, "Of course, patience and tact might have worked too..."

The white-clad woman smiled at Gertie. "She is right, though. We mean none of you any harm. We hope to change your lives, but only for the better."

With that assessment, Giver turned to follow Richard.

Gertie wasn't about to accept their glib explanations. There was something definitely wrong with Richard. Seizing his arm, she shook him as hard she could. It had no effect, he tried to pull away from her and continue on to their rooms. Furious, she began to cuss at the two strangers while trying to hold Richard back.

*****

Alexandra put aside the carving she was working on. She could hear her mother swearing loudly out in the hallway. It sounded like she was in trouble. Stepping to the front door, she cracked it open and looked out.

"An' this mus' be yah chahmin' daughtah," the blonde interupted. "Come on out, deah, weh'd like tah speak tah yah."

The dark-haired woman stepped to the vampire's side, her eyes following Elaine's and a gentle, reassuring smile gracing her lips. "Don't be concerned. Neither you nor those you love are in any danger."

Alexandra stared in disbelief at the women from her dreams, the ones who would change her life forever. As she stepped out into the hallway, she just wished she knew if the change would be for the better.

Giver still smiled. "Use your gift. Let it tell you whether we can be trusted."

Elaine stepped forward and walked around Alexandra, looking her up and down. "_Verrah_ intahrestin'," she pronounced. "Ah cn see why yah need mah help, Givah. No _Yank_ would evah know what tah do with hah."

Alexandra scowled as the stranger inspected her like a piece of meat. There was a hint of a growl in her voice as she snapped, "I know of two 'Yanks' who knew exactly what to do with me." In her anger, she completely missed the gentle remark made by the other woman accompanying the one circling her.

Elaine paused and looked up at her. "Then they wahn' Yanks," she said simply, as though the conclusion was obvious.

Alexandra was dumbfounded for a minute by the smaller woman's remark, then something about tickled her off-the-wall sense of humor and she began to chortle. Her mother, who was still trying to get Richard's attention, paused and looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Ah do apologize fah mah rudeness," Elaine said, smiling in return. "But Ah find yah simplay jus' fascina'in'. Has anayone evah done anaythin' tah figah out why yah the way yah ah?"

"There are many who would probably wish to," Giver suggested softly. "But few who would do so with any compassion." She reached into her coat, and drew out a small box, which she extended to Alexandra. "Choose the piece you think you will wear, and I will explain why we have come to you."

Alexandra looked into the box, intrigued by the woman's strange offer. All the pieces were lovely, but only one caught and held her attention. She reached in and drew out a beautiful cloak-pin.

"We have come here tonight both to give you something, and to ask something in return," Giver explained calmly. Anticipating her audience's reaction, she held up a reassuring hand. "What we offer you is a better life. The price is no more than this--that you continue to do as you have done, and use your special gifts to help those around you." She smiled. "Would you have me say more?"

Alexandra hesitated. "Your offer sounds almost too good to be true, but I can sense your sincerity. How can I leave my parents, though, and the people who depend on me for protection?" She glanced at her parents. Her mother's face was deliberately blank, but there was a tightness about her mouth that made it clear she was angry. Her father, on the other hand, was simply staring into space, in a way that was clearly not normal. "Father? Mother, what's wrong with him?!?!"

"Obviouslay, he's wahrahed abou' his li'le gahl bein' taken away from him," Elaine suggested, looking at him intently. "But theah's an easay solution fah that. Yah pahrents go with yah."

"Yes, your parents will go with you," Giver agreed. "And those you leave behind will be cared for. There is a place they can go where they will never be threatened again, and I will take them there. But the city that awaits you has no such refuge for its lost souls. Will you accept their care as your responsibility? Will you accept the help of the other gifted ones who have been called, should circumstances require it?"

Alexandra looked at her parents again. "I want to go with you. I know I can trust you, and that I can make a difference in this world. Mother, Father, will you come with me? I won't go if you won't."

Richard drew Alexandra into a hug. "Of course we'll go with you, if this is truly what you want to do. Gertie?" They both turned to look at the woman who was the backbone of their family.

There was anger in her voice as she replied. "I'm not going to stand in your way if this is what you really want. But I'll say it right now, I don't trust either of these women as far as I can throw them."

"A'cahse yah don'," Elaine agreed with her. "Weh show up, actin' like a bunch of Ya-- actin' like weh own the place, an' the nex' thin' yah know, weh'ah uprootin' y'all an' movin' yah tah some place yah ain' nevah seen. It ain' fun, Ah cn tell yah."

Giver studied Gertie for a moment, then turned to Elaine. She said nothing, but her expression spoke clearly of just what it might take to inspire the woman's trust. But knowing such a choice could not be made lightly, and could not be demanded of anyone, she let it lie for the moment and smiled once again at Alexandra.

"Will you come, then?"

"Yes!" Alexandra's reply was firm and unhesitating. A thrill of anticipation coursed through at the thought of the new life that lay ahead of her.

THE END...for now

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