Ever since Ilona told him about the two vampires that had died in Los Angeles, Methos hadn't been able to stop thinking about them. Or more to the point, thinking about what, if anything, he should tell the Slayer about them. Angel was irrelevant, always had been so far as he was concerned. A word or two in the right minion's ear here, a little extra string pulling there, and he was kept busy and out of Methos's sight. Besides, while news of her first love's death might sadden the Slayer, it wouldn't destroy her.
Saying anything about Spike, however, very well could. When he had first met her, the Slayer had been mourning the loss of her vampire for months with no relief. He'd seen the sorrow deep in her eyes, recognized the way the grief was eating away at her heart and soul even if it had left her beautiful surface unmarked, and her pain had called out to his own. He'd decided to give her whatever solace he could, if only so he could see what she looked like when her smile was real. Over pasta at Luna's the next night, he told her about his own lost love and his failed quest to save her. She was the first person besides Duncan and Amanda that he'd shared the story with, and her quiet sympathy soothed an ache that he hadn't even realized was there.
Dinner led to a night out dancing, and before he realized it, Methos was spending almost every free night at the Slayer's apartment, the two of them curled up on the sofa watching TV and talking in low voices as they tried to find their balance again. He knew that Rome was abuzz with talk about them, knew that the little boy that followed the Slayer around had created some great romantic story for them, but didn't really care. Let her be known as The Immortal's newest flame- if nothing else, it would add to her legend and perhaps afford her a little extra protection from some of the city's darker denizens.
Had the vampires been told of the Slayer who now spent her evenings with their old rival? Was that what had brought them both hurrying across the globe, instead of the minion that he'd expected to come retrieve the head? He chuckled at the memory of the little trick he'd played, wishing he could have seen Angel's face when he opened the bag and found the bomb. It really hadn't been very sporting of him, but he couldn't resist the chance to take the vampire down a few pegs. Needling him had always been an amusing way to pass some time, the affronted rage that the young demon always affected whenever his plans went awry almost as satisfying for Methos as getting under Duncan's skin. Almost.
“Adam? Come see what we bought!” He smiled at the happy voice that called for him, getting to his feet and going out into the living room. The Slayer and her sister sat on the couch, surrounded by bags from all types of stores.
“I hope you left some things in the stores, dolcezza. Rome depends on the tourists being able to shop for much of its revenue, you know,” he teased in a low voice.
Dawn threw a small pillow at his head, which he caught easily. “Just for that, we shouldn't show you anything,” the teenager threatened.
“Promise?” He laughed and dodged the next missile that came flying at him.
Buffy shook her head. “Knock it off, you two. And Adam, come on. You've got to see what I bought at Dolce!”
Methos took a seat in the chair near the couch and watched the two girls as they pulled clothes out of the shopping bags, laughing and chattering away about their newest finds. They practically glowed with health and vitality, and in that instant, his mind was made up. He had no idea how it was that the vampire had come back to life, or why he wouldn't have sought out the Slayer he claimed to love as soon as he could, but he knew one thing- he couldn't tell Buffy that her vampire was dead... again. She was just starting to live again, and something like this would set her back to the earliest days of her grief.
“Signor, the director of Wolfram & Hart, she wishes to speak with you.”
Methos nodded grimly, wondering what kind of fresh hell had broken out that Ilona was calling. “I'll be right back,” he promised, catching hold of Buffy's hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Sure thing,” she chirped, smiling brightly at him before she turned back to Dawn and the boots they'd been fussing over.
Heading for his study, he picked the phone up and said, “Yes, Ilona?”
“Caro, so sorry to bother you, but I received a report that you will want to hear about. In Los Angeles, the Wolfram & Hart office has been rebuilt. And the director, he is still Angelus!”
The immortal frowned. “I thought you said he died in the fight against the Black Thorn.”
“This is what I was told, but now here he is, sitting in the new office with his humans by his side. The information, it was faulty, no?” He could almost see her shrug. Ilona always accepted things so easily, with such equanimity- it was one of the things he usually found most charming about her. But there were times he wished that she was a little more curious.
“So he's just back, then? What about-”
“There was no mention of anybody but Angelus or his humans. I think there is only one souled vampire in the world now.” She paused, then offered, “I could ask the mystics to check, if you like.”
“No, that's not necessary. I'm sure if he was there, you'd have heard about it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks for calling. I'll see you Wednesday?”
She laughed. “But of course!”
Methos laid the handset back down and sank into his office chair. As much as he might like to believe that the information Ilona gave him was complete, he knew she probably wasn't telling him everything. But if Angel was alive, whether he'd died to begin with or not, he had to admit that there was a strong possibility that Spike was back as well. The only question was how deep he wanted to dig before he said anything to Buffy.
A tap on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. “Hey there, grumpy guy. Bad news?”
“No, just unexpected.” He beckoned her inside. “Did you want to go out dancing tonight?”
Hazel eyes lit up as she smiled. “Sounds great! Give me a chance to really show off my new clothes. Gotta remind everybody that The Immortal isn't the only hottie around, huh?”
He chuckled. “As though you're not well aware of the looks you get. Shall we say ten o'clock, perhaps dinner out at Luna's first?”
“Works for me. I'll give 'em a call so they know to have your usual table ready.” Buffy grinned and hurried off to call the restaurant and pick out the right clothes for that evening.
For several seconds after she left, he tried to convince himself he wasn't the one responsible for looking into things with Wolfram & Hart. But Buffy deserved to know, and he had to admit that he was more than a little curious as well. So that left him with only one option, and distasteful as it might be, he really had no choice. With a sigh, he reached for the phone and dialed the number he'd really wanted to avoid calling.
“MacLeod, I need you to look into something for me. Call it a favor, if you will.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Story takes place after NFA, non-comics canon, so The Immortal's involved. This is a crossover with Highlander, and as I have only a passing familiarity with their 'verse, may not be fully in keeping with their timeline.