~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

	‘Oh God.  What am I doing here?’ Willow thought
frantically.	

	In all actuality, she didn’t really *plan* to come to this
place.  Her only thought when school let out for the day had
been to go home and grab a much-needed nap before going
back to the library at sunset.  Stopping by her locker to drop
off her extraneous textbooks, Willow left the high school
without even saying good-bye to Xander.

	Walking at an easy pace, Willow decided to take one
of the more scenic routes to her house.  Perhaps, her
subconscious was already considering this alternate
destination, as this particular way happened to cross Brackton
Boulevard.  As it so happened, that particular street led
directly to Sunnydale’s warehouse district.

	So caught up in her thoughts of what lay ahead later
that evening, Willow just vaguely remembered the moment
her feet decided to alter their course from her original
destination.  In fact, it was only when she caught sight of the
massive forest-green door that she realized where she was. 
Now that she was there, though, Willow found herself in a
quandary.

	It wasn’t as if this were the first time she’d gone there
unannounced and unexpected.   Most of the time, she was
greeted with a warm welcome and invited to stay as long as
she chose to be there.   Every now and then, however, she
would be firmly, but politely, turned away without much of an
explanation.

	‘I should have called first,’ Willow admonished
herself.  ‘I’ll just go now, and no one will ever know I was
even here.  But...I really want to see him.’

	Usually, Willow either called ahead, or at least
knocked first to await permission to come inside the building.
Since she hadn’t bothered to phone, Willow followed the
established agreement and rapped somewhat quietly on the
metal door.  

	When the seconds of silence that followed continued
to stretch on, Willow began to grow concerned.  Usually, the
door would be opened before she had time to draw her hand
back.   Worried, the teenager knocked again, more loudly this
time, only to be met with same quiet response.

	‘What if something’s happened to him?  He was so
tired last night.  What if he went back to the cemetery after
we dropped him off?   Wouldn’t that be just like him; not even
following his own advice?  What if he went back and got
hurt?  Or dragged off?  Oh God!  What if they took him down
into the tunnels?   Ew, rats!  We’re going to have to dissect
one of those next month in Biology.  I wonder if they have
flies and stuff in their stomachs like the frogs did last week?  I
hate frogs.  I don’t know how Buffy could stand them that
time.   Hey, maybe he’s heard something about Buffy.  Maybe
he left to go after her.  Or maybe he’s inside, really hurt and
couldn’t get to a phone...’  

	Although her train of thought often meandered, the
swiftness with which it flowed was astounding.   A sweeping
sense of panic overwhelmed Willow as her mind focused in on
that last train of thought.   Images of her friend, wounded and
bleeding, consumed her.

	Terrified as to what might be happening behind the
locked door in front of her, Willow reached into her backpack
with a trembling hand.  After a few moments of hunting
around, her hand emerged with a shiny, metal key.  Having
never been used before, it was as pristine as the day the owner
of the lock had handed it to her.  ‘Just in case’ he’d insisted
without elaborating further.  The exact meaning of ‘just in
case’ had kept her wondering for days afterwards, yet she
never found the courage to ask for any kind of clarification. 
Instead, she followed the rules of convention on visiting
someone else’s home.

	At least, until now.

	With her fear overriding her sense of propriety,
Willow stepped forward to insert the key into the lock.  
Nervousness made her hand unsteady, causing her to miss the
keyhole twice before she heard the sound of metal sliding
against metal.  Twisting the key savagely, the mechanism slid
back with a satisfying click.

	As soon as she opened the door itself, Willow
launched herself into the apartment.   Green eyes swept the
spacious main room as her body continued forward at a dead
run.  Since she hadn’t expected to find him in the outer room
anyway, Willow moved towards the open stairway without so
much as slowing down.

	Designed by the previous owner, the warehouse was
somewhat atypical to most of its kind.   Instead of one huge,
open space, large sheets of drywall had been installed to
cordon off the kitchen and bathroom.   A banisterless staircase
with wide, shallow steps led up to the ‘second’ floor.   It was
styled similarly to a loft -- an open-ended bedroom that
looked out over the living area below.   

	In keeping with the current owner’s preference for
simple, yet elegant, surroundings, the bedroom contained only
two pieces of dark-wood furnishings.  Ignoring the massive
armoire that served as the room’s closet, Willow’s eyes
sought out the large king-size bed.   In the middle of the
darkly printed sheets, she finally saw that for which she’d been
searching.  The shock of seeing him stopped her cold in her
tracks.

	“Angel!?!” His name emerged from her lips in a tone
comprised of fear, uncertainty, and desperation.

	Startled, Angel abruptly sat straight up at the sound of
Willow’s cry.   His brain, however, was still somewhat
lethargic after a marathon bout of sleep.   Running on pure
instinct, his face automatically morphed into his vampire
visage as he searched for the unidentified intruder in his lair.

	Only when Angel changed into his “game face” did
Willow realize the consequences of waking a sleeping
vampire.  Stamping down the impulse to rush forward, she
froze in place, once again calling his name in hope that he
would recognize her as a friend, not a foe.

	The confusion on the vampire’s face was evident as
Angel struggled to identify the voice through the sleepy haze
over his mind.  It took less than a second for him to realize
just who his mystery guest was.

	“Willow?”  He asked quietly, turning her name into a
question.  “What’re you doing here?”

	“Angel!” Willow exclaimed, finally giving into her
need to make sure he was, indeed, all right.  Within the span
of a single second, she tore across the room, rambling all the
way over to the bed.  “I knocked and you didn’t answer.  All I
kept thinking about was that you went back out last night and
got hurt, but couldn’t get to the phone to reach anybody.  I
kept seeing you covered in blood...”

	With the intention of taking a running leap, Willow
took one last giant stride as she neared the bed.  The
maneuver would have worked perfectly, except that she
tripped on the pile of discarded clothing scattered randomly
on the floor.   Hitting the bed with a strangled ‘oof,’ Willow
didn’t bother to let her misstep slow her down.  Shifting
upright on her knees, she drunkenly made her way to Angel’s
side.  Once there, she grabbed him around the shoulders,
pulling him into a giant bear hug.

	The only problem Angel had was his uncertainty over
who was more reassured by the one-sided embrace: Willow or
himself.   The only thing he knew for sure was that, more than
anything, he wanted to pull her closer.  Following through on
his desire, Angel wrapped his arms around Willow’s slender
shoulders and held on tight.

	A long moment passed as they both enjoyed the simple
comfort of holding and being held.   All too soon, the veil of
distortion caused by sleep began to lift away from Angel’s
synaptic functions.   Not that he minded Willow dropping by,
not in the least, but he was concerned as to what had brought
her to his doorstep.

	“Willow, Giles and the others...are they okay?”  Angel
asked, reluctantly pulling away from the girl in his arms.

	“Giles is fine, Oz is fine, Xander’s fine, you’re fine
and...naked?!?”   As she spoke, Willow’s eyes had been
involuntarily wandering over the vampire’s body,
double-checking her assumption of Angel’s condition.  A
strangled ‘eep’ escaped Willow’s throat when her green eyes
traveled a bit too low.

	The darkly printed top sheet that had covered Angel
while he slept slipped down his exposed torso when he sat up
so abruptly minutes earlier.   While the expanse of fabric
currently covered the most ‘vital’ parts of Angel’s anatomy,
the way it haphazardly draped across his lap left absolutely no
doubt that he was bare-assed naked underneath it.

	Self-consciousness set in for Angel when he realized
that Willow’s observation was, indeed, correct.  “Well, I
kinda wasn’t expecting any company,” he said with a
sheepish, but amused, shrug.

	“Oh...okay...right...dressed...you should...y’know...
like soon...”  A slow, burning blush crept up Willow’s neck
and face as she stumbled backwards in embarrassment.   It
seemed as if her eyes wandered over every inch of the room
with the glaring exception of the vampire before her.   

	Angel was hard-pressed not to laugh at her adorable
discomfort, but he realized that she was right;  he really
should get dressed.   Only there was one notable problem:
Willow hadn’t yet left the room.

	“Uh, Will?” Angel began kindly.  He came close to
biting his lip to keep from smiling at her refusal to look
directly at him.  “Willow?   Why don’t you go downstairs and
get something to drink?” 

	“Huh?  I’m not...oh... Oh! A drink!  Right!  I’ll just
go... wow, I’m so in the mood for a Diet Coke!”   With that
said, she bolted for the staircase like a sprinter at the sound of
the starting gun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

	Willow was sitting rather formally on the sofa when
Angel came down the stairs a few minutes later.   For the sake
of propriety, the vampire had thrown on a pair of pants and a
dark shirt, which he had left unbuttoned.  

	“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Angel informed
his guest as he sailed past her on his way to the bathroom. 
“Make yourself...uh...comfortable.”  

	Willow blushed at the vampire's choice of words as he
closed the door behind himself.   Only when she heard the
sound of the shower starting did she throw her head into her
hands and groan loudly.  “Oh God, could this get *any* more
embarrassing.”

	For long minutes Willow sat there considering what
exactly had just taken place.   That she’d been so close to a
naked man was daunting, and not just any man, but *Angel*,
her best friend’s boyfriend...well, sort-of boyfriend.  Well,
maybe not anymore.

	A lot had changed since she’d brought Angel back
from Hell.   Buffy’s absence, Xander’s relationship with
Cordelia, Giles’s withdrawal, her mutual break-up with Oz --
each event only added to Willow’s loneliness.   Only her
newfound friendship with Angel gave her something besides
school to look forward to each day.  

	For the first time, Willow allowed herself to consider
her reasons for actively pursuing a friendship with Angel. 
After his stint as Angelus, the vampire had returned to find his
own life in shambles.   Willow had been the only one to stand
by him in his time of need.   Never once did she blame him for
Angelus’s actions, not even for the murder of the computer
teacher, Jenny Calendar.  If she had, she never would have
risked her own life and soul to rescue him from the Demon
Dimension.

	In the beginning, Willow kept telling herself that she
only wanted to protect Angel while he regained his strength
after his ordeal.   It hadn’t been easy at first.   Angel wanted
nothing more than to be left alone, taking his ‘cryptic,
mysterious guy’ act to a whole new level.   But, using courage
that she didn’t know she possessed, Willow had been
determined not to lose Angel as she had her other friends.  
Concerned about his well being, she came to visit daily.  She
did her best not to let her hurt show on those few occasions
he actually did turn her away.  More often then not, however,
Angel slowly began letting her into his life.   Gradually, they
found that they truly enjoyed each other’s company, especially
since they had none of the romantic entanglements of most of
their other respective friendships.

	At least, that had been true up until this afternoon.  

	It wasn’t as if Willow had never noticed Angel’s looks
before now.   Put simply, only a blind person would fail to see
that he was gorgeous -- and he was Buffy’s.   At least, that
was how Willow’s always thought of Angel -- not only
off-limits, but way out of her league.  What would somebody
like him see in a person like herself?   In Willow’s estimation,
Angel deserved to be with somebody special, somebody like
Buffy.   That Buffy and Angel were no longer an item didn’t
change Willow’s opinion at all.

	Why, then, was she suddenly hyperaware of Angel’s
magnetism?   He’d never shown *that* kind of interest in her
and, if she were to be truthful with herself, Willow had never
taken any kind of offense at the omission.   Having Angel
simply as a friend was more than enough.

	Over the past few months, Willow had grown to rely
heavily on the friendship Angel offered.   He became a
sounding board for her, listening with genuine interest to
whatever she had to say.   He was protective without
smothering her, there when she needed him -- whether she
knew it at the time or not.   His apartment had become her
sanctuary, the one place she came when she needed to get
away from her home, the library, or both places.  Willow was
not about to risk upsetting the status quo between them on
the off-chance that Angel might want something more with
her.

	It wasn’t worth losing his friendship.

	Lost in her thoughts, Willow jumped when she heard
the door of the bathroom open.  Angel emerged fully dressed
in the clothes he’d worn when he first came downstairs.  A
knot of apprehension grew in Willow’s stomach as she waited
to see how Angel was going to react to the situation that had
taken place upstairs.

	“Are you hungry?”  The vampire asked absently as he
ran a towel over his still-damp hair.  As if sensing her tension,
Angel treated Willow to a warm smile.

	“I’m fine,” Willow replied, relieved that the vampire
was acting normally.   Now, if only she could do the same. 
Unfortunately, Angel looked unbelievably sexy standing there
with damp hair and bare-footed.  ‘Down girl!’  Willow
ordered herself.

	Angel, however, broke the spell by moving off into the
kitchen.  Of course he needed to feed.  Willow knew better
than to follow him into the kitchen.  Experience had taught
her that Angel was incredibly private when it came to
preparing and consuming the blood that kept him ‘alive’.

	“So,” Angel called from the kitchen, “you never
answered my question.” 

	“What question was that?” she replied as she retrieved
the backpack she’d tossed aside earlier.

	“What brought you over here?”

	“What?  I can’t just visit a friend?”  Willow called as
she settled back onto the sofa with the history book she’d
pulled out of her bag.

	“I just thought you’d be home resting.   You need to
be as prepared as possible, Willow.  This...this whole Legion
thing...it’s big, Will.   Probably bigger than anything that
we’ve dealt with so far.”

	“You said ‘we’,” Willow noted with a smile.

	“Huh?” Angel asked as he emerged from the kitchen
with a bag of Willow’s favourite chips in his hand.  He’d long
ago taken to stocking his kitchen with actual food for when
she came over to visit.

	“You said ‘we.’  You’ve never said that before.” 
Willow continued, eyeing the chips with a smile.

	“I don’t follow...” the vampire replied, his confusion
evident.

	“You’ve always said ‘you’ before when you talked
about the group.”  Seeing that Angel still wasn’t grasping her
meaning, Willow elaborated.  “You’ve never included yourself
when you’ve talked about the Slayerettes.”

	Angel almost rolled his eyes at the group’s
self-appointed nickname, but it seemed to Willow that he
finally understood the point that she was making.  For as long
as she could remember, Angel had, with the exception of
Buffy, insisted on keeping himself distant from the group,
both emotionally and physically.  Only recently had she
noticed a change in his behaviour.  Never once did Willow
realize that she was directly responsible for the difference.  

	“That’s your doing, you know.”   The words were
spoken softly, but there was no mistaking the open gratitude
in Angel’s voice.  Uncomfortable with his heart-felt
admission, the vampire kept his back to Willow as he
retrieved a leather-bound book from his desk.

	“Me?” Willow squeaked.  “I didn’t do anything!”

	Astounded by her statement, Angel pivoted sharply,
and strode across the room.  Kneeling down in front of the
sofa, the vampire dropped what he was carrying to take her
petite hands into his own.   “Willow, don’t you see?   I owe
you everything.”
	
	Words failed her at that moment.  What was Angel
talking about?   He’d saved her life so many times, *she* was
the one who ought to be thanking *him*.   Knowing that
bringing up that particular fact would make the vampire
uncomfortable, Willow wisely chose to remain silent.   Still,
she was touched by his sentiment and wanted to do something
to show her appreciation.  In the end, Willow settled for
simply squeezing his hands tenderly until she could gather her
thoughts. 
	
	“You don’t owe me anything, Angel.   Friends don’t 
keep scorecards.”

	They remained that way for a while longer; each lost
in respective thoughts over their unique friendship.  Finally,
Angel leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss against
Willow’s forehead.  

	“Thank you,” he whispered, letting go of her hands
with one last squeeze.

	The moment ended when Angel reclaimed the items he
had so carelessly dropped on the floor.  Handing the bag of
chips over to Willow, he sat down on the opposite end of the
couch and opened his book.

	They spent the next hour reading in companionable
silence, until they both fell asleep.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

	Angel woke Willow about a half an hour before
sunset.   After preparing a quick meal -- warm blood for him
and some soup for her -- they quickly made their way out of
the apartment, completely unaware of the three pairs of
immortal eyes that followed their progress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

	‘He is as beautiful as they say,’ Eleni Vasqeria Goya
y Garcia thought as she stood on a nearby rooftop.   For all
of her 500 years, Eleni had been obsessed with two things:
beauty and power.   In her own mind, she was already in
possession of the former, and she was well on her way to
securing the latter.

	The only thing that remained was finding the perfect
consort to be at her side.

	Her search for such a man began long before she
reached the primate backwater known as Sunnydale.  It was
unfortunate that a viable Hellmouth hadn’t opened
somewhere more...civilized, like her native Seville.  It was a
pity; but then again, such things could not be helped.

	Dismissing her tangent thoughts, Eleni once again
focused on the dark-haired vampire below her.  Ever since
she’d arrived in Sunnydale, she’d heard stories of Angelus,
of his cunning and ruthlessness and, most importantly, of his
curse.   Although no one she talked to was certain of the
details of his disappearance and subsequent return; all were
in agreement that Angelus was once again fighting against
his own kind.  Such a tragedy.

	Not for long, however.  

	He alone stood out above the pitiful flotsam this
place had to offer, like a single diamond in a bucket full of
coal.  Her time of victory was near, and she wasn’t about to
walk into the face of triumph alone.   Angelus was the
perfect choice, despite his curse.  ‘After all,’ Eleni thought,
‘if it was broken once, it can be done again.’  Now it was
time to make it happen.

	“Kill the girl and bring him to me,” Eleni ordered the
underling that accompanied her.

	“Should I bring her across?”  the minion asked.

	“No,” his mistress replied without hesitation. 
Despite the need to increase their numbers, Eleni wasn’t
about to allow the creation of potential rival.  Not that she
even considered the possibility of Angelus choosing the girl
over herself.  Eleni’s beauty had been legendary for more
than half a millennia.  Instead, she wanted the girl dead for
being near Eleni’s chosen one.   “Feed from her if you wish,
but make sure Angelus sees her die before you bring him to
me.”

	“As you wish, Mistress,” the underling replied.

	Her orders issued, Eleni pivoted sharply and
disappeared into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

	“You want me to go where?” Angel asked
skeptically as the pair turned the corner before Sunnydale
park.  

	“A college fair...over at Washington High
tomorrow at six o’clock.  I mean, it’s no big deal if you
can’t go.  I know that we’re supposed be fighting this
whole Legion prophecy, but Giles said that we can be
spared for an hour or two tomorrow.  We’ll just meet up
with everybody at the Restfield Cemetery later on.”

	She was rambling out loud from nervousness, but
internally, she busy berating.  ‘Right, like Angel would
want to go to something as stupid as a college fair.’  
Nevertheless, when she mentioned the possibility of
attending to Giles earlier, the Watcher had insisted that
she not go unescorted. 

	“...I mean I understand if you don’t want to go. 
It being a school thing and all, and you probably
wouldn’t be interested...”

	“I’ll go.”  Angel interrupted absently, only
half-listening to Willow’s babbling.   The vampire was
jumpy, and he was irritated that he couldn’t figure out
why.
 
	“...in something as boring as...”

	“Willow, I’ll go,”  he repeated a little more
loudly.

	“...a college fair.”

	Angel couldn’t help but smile at her prattling, but
he didn’t need to hear anymore.  “Willow!  I said, I’ll go
with you.”

	“Oh.”  she replied in what seemed like
confusion.  Not that her response, or lack thereof,
surprised him.  He could almost envision her mind
stopping and rewinding the conversation to search out
exactly what the vampire had just agreed to do.

	“Oh!  You’ll really go?”  she asked.  Angel
merely nodded his head to reaffirm his agreement.  “Oh
Angel, this is so nice of you!”

	“It’s really not a problem,” the vampire insisted, barely
remembering to give Willow a smile of reassurance.   He was
preoccupied by his feelings of unease, yet he didn’t want to
upset Willow unnecessarily.   Instead, he did his best to make
some small talk.  “What I don’t get is the time of it, though.  I
thought that the police were actually cracking down on that
curfew they established.”

	“Supposedly they are, what with all the missing people
lately.  But this college fair was set up months ago.  I guess
they didn’t want to inconvenience all the reps coming from
out of town,” Willow surmised.

	“Idiots.”  Angel grumbled at the lunacy of not
canceling the entire event.

	As they turned the corner into the park, the pair grew
silent, more alert of their surroundings.  With all the shrubbery
and darkened recesses, this was the most dangerous part of
their route.  Yet, it could not be avoided.   Walking around
the park would add another fifteen minutes to their trip, which
could prove to be just as deadly.

	A spike of pain seared through Angel’s head out of
nowhere, causing the normally graceful vampire to stumble.

	“Angel?” Willow questioned as she reached out to
steady him.

	“Something...something’s not right,” he gasped as the
pain receded.   A strange feeling overcame him.  For no
reason at all, he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to run.  
At that same moment, the demon within him grew unbearably
restless, as if it was trying to force him to flee.  It took every
ounce of control that he’d learned in the past eighty-odd years
to keep from giving into the demon’s demands, but he
wouldn’t leave Willow behind.

	“Can you walk?” Willow asked anxiously, her eyes
darting around to search for either the cause of the vampire’s
pain or other potential dangers.  Fortunately, Angel seemed to
be recovering quickly.

	“C’mon, let’s go,” he insisted, grabbing onto Willow’s
arm protectively.  
	
	Before they could go more than ten paces, half a
dozen snarling vampires jumped out of the bushes on both
sides of the pathway.

	Acting on instinct, Angel immediately shifted into his
game face.  Adjusting his hold on Willow’s arm, he tugged
her close to his body in a possessive manner.  He only prayed
that Willow would follow his lead.   He had to buy her enough
time to cast her protection spell.  Given his proximity to the
teenager, the trickiest part was going to be making sure that
he didn’t get accidentally dusted by it himself.

	“This one is mine,” he growled menacingly to the
other vampires.  “Go find your own dinners.” 

	“Thanks, but we already ate,” the largest vampire
sneered.

	‘Come on, Willow!’ Angel thought furiously.   Finally,
he heard her whispering the familiar words of Latin while one
of her hands slowly crept closer to the stake hidden within the
sleeve of her denim jacket.

	It was, however, too little, too late.

	Without any warning another vampire, hidden within
the shrubbery, jumped Angel from behind.  Staggering from
the force of the impact, Angel lost his grip on Willow,
accidentally pushing her towards their waiting adversaries.

	“WILLOW!” Angel bellowed.

	Using the forward momentum to her advantage, the
young redhead jerked the stake free of her sleeve and
slammed it into the heart of the vamp who’d been poised to
catch her.   Yet, as impressive as the move was, it did nothing
to save her from being swatted to the ground like an insect by
a vicious backhand from one of the other bloodsuckers.

	As soon as Angel realized that the other five were
unfazed by Willow’s surprise attack, he knew that they were
in real trouble.   These vampires were no newly made
fledglings.  They were seasoned, experienced fighters;
prepared to die as long as their objective was achieved.

	‘But what do they want?’ Angel wondered.

	He never had time to speculate, though.  Before
Willow could even begin to shake off the effects of the blow
she received, the remaining three opponents were all over the
vampire with a soul.   He fought his best fight, but it was a
losing battle.

	In less than a minute, Angel was completely
overwhelmed.   Instinctively, he tried to get closer to Willow,
willing to sacrifice himself in the slim chance that his demise
would buy her the chance to escape.  There was only one
vampire between Willow and himself, so he ran forward,
hoping to knock it out of his way.

	His opponent, however, anticipated the move and, at
the last possible second, spun around in a roundhouse kick
that sent Angel airborne.   Tumbling head over feet, the last
thing Angel saw was the green of the park bench before his
head impacted against it with a sickening crunch.

	“ANGEL!!”  Willow screamed in horror.  Still dazed
from the blow she’d taken, the sound of Angel’s skull
fracturing echoed loudly in her head.   Her eyes teared over as
she cried unnoticed tears for her fallen friend.

	Truth be told, she completely forgot about the other
hostile vampires as she stared at Angel’s unmoving body -- at
least until one of the creatures wrapped its hands around her
neck.  There was a surrealistic quality of the moment, almost
as everything was happening to her in slow motion.   Frozen
with grief rather than fear, Willow did nothing to resist as the
vampire holding her shifted his grip to expose her neck.   A
loud ‘bang’ erupted in the distance, but the sound was
drowned out by the sharp pain of the fangs that pierced her
tender skin.

	As she was thrown to the ground, Willow’s vision
began to fade to black.   Her last thought was of Angel and if
he would be waiting for her on the other side...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	‘Once, just once, I’d like something to be bloody
simple,’ the Immortal calling himself Adam Pierson swore
silently as he ran.  ‘Sure,’ he raged at the idiocy of the plan
he’d conceived earlier that afternoon.  ‘Follow the girl and
wait until she’s alone to ask her about Ahriman.  What could
possibly go wrong?’

	Everything.

	For example, the girl could choose to go somewhere
other than the home address Adam had so painstakingly
looked up in the phone book during lunch.  She might actually
choose to go to the one warehouse in Sunnydale that’s
windows were blackened over with thick coats of paint.  She
could also choose to while away the afternoon inside said
warehouse, only to emerge hours later with what appeared to
be a boyfriend in tow -- an older, somewhat dangerous-
looking boyfriend, at that.  Then, to add insult to injury, Adam
could have easily been spotted as he drove past the entrance
to the park, not realizing that the pair had stopped less than
fifty feet away for some reason or another.  Or even better
yet, Willow and her boyfriend could get jumped by what
appeared to be a gang lying in wait.

	It was plain, dumb luck that he’d caught sight of the
gang members out of the corner of his eye.  Erring on the side
of caution, Adam pulled his rental car over to the side of the
otherwise deserted street.   Shutting off the telltale headlights,
the Immortal reached for a high-power set of golf binoculars
and proceeded to watch the encounter unfold.  A knot of
tension formed in his stomach as the seconds passed.  Even
with the distance between himself and the assembled group, it
was plain to see that this wasn’t a friendly meeting.  Yet, he
did nothing.  After all, Adam Pierson hadn’t stayed alive for
so many years by borrowing from other people’s troubles.

	At least that was what he told himself until he saw the
hidden man jump out of the bushes in a surprise attack.  
Muttering a curse in a long-forgotten tongue, Adam threw
down the binoculars and exited the car at a dead run.   He
hadn’t come this far only to have the girl he’d been searching
for hurt or killed in a random mugging.

	Rounding the stone-and-fence gateway, Adam felt a
sudden chill run down his spine as Willow’s boyfriend took a
serious header into a park bench.  With her friend out of the
way, one of the attackers grabbed the redheaded teenager and
buried his face into her neck.   Thinking that the girl was
about to be gang-raped, the Immortal felt memories -- some
from the distant past and some from less than a year ago --
rise to the surface unbidden.   

	“NO!”  Adam Pierson shouted as he forced himself
to move even more quickly.   As his feet hit the ground in
rapid secession, he was already reaching for his weapons.  
Seasoned by centuries of battle, he immediately sought out
the six round - .38 in his belt with his left hand, while the
right slid under his overcoat to reach for the long dagger
secured to the small of his back.   While many Immortals
would have immediately drawn their swords, Adam knew
that his trusty Ivanhoe was an unwieldy choice for a close
fight with multiple combatants.    

	Even from this distance, he could see the girl’s legs
begin to buckle.  As slight as she was, it wouldn’t be difficult
for the large man that was holding her to carry her off with
him if the gang was to retreat.  Realizing that he would never
reach Willow in time to prevent such an occurrence, Adam
lifted the gun in his right hand, took aim and fired.  

	Shooting on the run is never as easy as it looks in the
movies.  Even for someone as practiced as Adam, the
Immortal was lucky to hit one of the gang members -- even if
he was off target by over a foot.   Instead of impacting in the
chest cavity, the bullet lodged itself deeply into the man’s
stomach.

	Then, something truly bizarre happened.

	When he was about 40 feet away from the assembled
group, all of the girl’s attackers suddenly clutched their
heads and began shrieking in pain.   Although puzzled by
their behaviour, Adam never once slowed down as he raced
towards his destination.   At 30 feet, the gang members
began stumbling backwards, some still screaming as they
made their retreat.

	At first, their reaction to his presence reminded
Adam of the confusion newly made Immortals had when
experiencing ‘the buzz’ of another of their kind for the first
time.   ‘The buzz’ was a tingling sensation that all Immortals
felt when they came into proximity to another of their race --
a kind of early-warning detection system that made it
possible to recognize each other.   While the feeling was less
than pleasant for the most seasoned Immortal, it was often
disorientating as hell to the younger and more inexperienced.
Especially since the older and more powerful an Immortal
was, the greater their detection range.

	The buzz, however, was a two-way street, and as
strong as Adam’s was, he should have been able to sense
another of his kind long before they detected his presence.  
Nearing his destination, the Immortal cast his thoughts aside
to focus more of his attention towards the unconscious girl
lying on the ground.

	By the time he reached Willow’s side, her attackers
had disappeared into the protective darkness of the park.  
Deciding that his gun would be the best choice of weapon
should the gang members return, Adam kept it in hand while
setting his dagger down on the ground at the girl’s side.   

	She was lying face down on the asphalt walkway, so
the Immortal clutched a petite shoulder to roll her over on
her back.    Still out cold, Adam could nevertheless make out
the damp tear tracks on her ashen cheeks.   With a practiced
hand, the Immortal brushed her hair out of the way as he
reached for her neck.   Ignoring the warm, damp blood his
fingers encountered, he unerringly found her jugular vein and
pressed his fingers against it.   Her pulse was thready, but
that was not surprising.   Shock was a common reaction after
such a brutal attack.

	Speaking of brutal, Adam left the girl’s side to check
on her boyfriend.   Having been a medical doctor in several
of his ‘lifetimes,’ one look at the dark-haired man’s forehead
told the Immortal everything he needed to know.   Despite
the futility of his action, Adam checked not only for a pulse,
but any hint of the buzz that would indicate that the fallen
man might be an Immortal.

	Nothing.

	Somewhere in the back of his mind, Adam noted that
the man’s skin was cool, in fact, unnaturally so for someone
whose life had just ended moments earlier.   However,
before the thought fully registered, a low, pain-filled groan
filled the air.

	Willow Rosenberg was waking up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The second he heard the noise, Adam abandoned the
corpse of the man to return to the girl’s side.   Tapping her
face in an effort to stimulate her revival, the Immortal’s hazel
eyes swept the surrounding area, keeping watch for any signs
of danger.  Seeing none, he replaced the safety on the .38
and tucked it loosely into his belt before turning his attention
back towards the teenager.

	“Willow?” he questioned, his tone becoming more
demanding as he called her name repeatedly.

	“Ugghhh.”  With another groan of protest, Willow’s
eyes fluttered open.  “Wha..where?”

	“Willow?  Come on, kid, work with me here.”  The
Immortal kept his voice quiet but firm as he assisted her into
a sitting position.  “Are you all right?”

	“Kinda dazed and a little confused,” she admitted as
she shook her head in an effort to clear out the cobwebs. 
One of her petite hands came up to rub her aching jaw while
she tried to recall exactly how it came to hurt in the first
place.   Adam could almost see the wheels of her mind
turning as she struggled to put the pieces together.  After a
brief moment of silence, Willow’s glassy eyes met his own.

	“Dr. Pierson,” he supplied before she could vocalize
her obvious question.  “We met at the school library this
morning.”

	“Wha...what are you d...doing here?”

	“I happened to be passing by when I saw those men
jump out of the bushes at you...”  Even as the words fell
from his lips, Adam saw the moment everything clicked into
place in her memory.   He opened his mouth to continue
speaking when a heart-breaking cry interrupted him.

	“Oh my God!  My...Angel?  Angel!?!”   The girl’s
expression was one of pure panic as she craned her neck to
search for her fallen friend.   Adam couldn’t help but feel
relieved that his body blocked her view of the gruesome
sight directly behind him.   Although the cynical,
survival-driven portion of Adam Pierson refused to
acknowledge it, there was a small part of the Immortal that
was both saddened and impressed by the stranger who had
given his life in defense of this girl.   It was that fact alone
that triggered a sudden attack of the conscience that he so
frequently denied having.   Out of respect for the dead man’s
actions, Adam decided to keep the girl from seeing the
battered body.   He did not want the sight to be her last
memory of the boyfriend who obviously cared so much for
her.

	“I’m so sorry, Willow,” Adam soothed as he leaned
forward to pull her tiny frame into a comforting embrace.  
“He’s gone.”

	“Gone?” Willow questioned without pulling away
from the Immortal.

	“His injuries were too severe.   I’m afraid he’s...he
didn’t make it.”   The Immortal spoke delicately, uncertain as
to how the teenager would react to bluntness.  A small sob
was her answer as Willow’s arms rose to clutch tightly at his
waist.

	“No!”  She managed to whisper around the tears that
choked her.  “No.  Not Angel.  Not Angel.”

	Adam allowed Willow a long moment to sob out the
grief that was overwhelming her.   There was nothing he
could do other than to rub her back and whisper soothing
noises in her ear while she cried in the comfort of his arms.  

	Then, Adam noticed a movement in the distance.  

	“Willow, we have to get out of here.”  The teenager
stiffened at his words, instantly reminded of the danger that
lurked in the shadows.  “Can you stand?”

	Rising even as she nodded, Willow almost tripped
over a piece of wood lying on the path.   Sniffling, she bent
over to retrieve it.   It was only when she straightened back
up that the gasp escaped her.

	Alerted by the sound, Adam traced her line of vision
only to realize that she’d seen the body of her boyfriend.  
Fearing that she would become hysterical, the Immortal
reached forward to grasp her arm.

	“Angel?!!?”  To Adam’s surprise, the girl sounded
almost happy to see the corpse resting against the park
bench.   In his confusion, Willow managed to avoid his hand,
surging past the Immortal to reach her friend’s side.

	“Angel, oh God, Angel!”  Her cries were excited as
she dropped to her knees to gather his limp form into her
arms.   “You’re still here!” she whispered reverently while
she rocked the body like a child would a favourite doll.

	“Willow...Willow, let go,”  Adam insisted, trying his
best to pull her away.  But she wasn’t having any of it. 
“Willow, listen to me.   He’s not breathing...there’s no
pulse.”

	“Of course he’s not breathing,” Willow retorted,
leaving Adam to wonder if that blow to the head she took
was harder than he originally thought.  “We have to get him
out of here.”	

	“We can send the police to collect him later.  Right
now, we need to get moving.”

	“Angel, please wake up,” Willow pleaded, ignoring
the Immortal to tap the man’s face as Adam had done to her
own just a short time ago.

	“Listen to me,” Adam said sharply.  “He’s dead,
Willow, and unless you want to join him, we need to get out
of here.” 

	The Immortal was more than shocked when the
teenager roughly jerked her shoulder out from underneath
his hand.    When her face turned to meet his, Adam found
himself pierced, not so much by her determined expression,
but by the green eyes that skewered through him.  Gone was
the weeping child he’d held only moments earlier.   In her
place was a fiery, self-assured woman.

	Yet, even at her best, she was no match for this
particular Immortal.  Or so he thought.

	“We’re leaving.”  Adam’s tone brooked absolutely
no tolerance as he once again reached for her arm...only to
find himself staring down the barrel of his own gun.  ‘Son of
a...’ he thought to himself, both annoyed and somewhat
impressed that the girl had managed to grab the weapon
without his knowledge.  It wasn’t often that anyone pulled
one over on him.

	“I said we’re *not* leaving without him.”  Her words
would have been a lot more convincing if both her voice and
her hands weren’t shaking.   Apparently, just holding a gun
made the teenager nervous.

	For a moment, Adam considered just knocking
Willow out and carrying *her* out of the park.  Besides, the
teenager hadn’t realized that the safety on the gun was still in
place.   Balling up his fist to throw the necessary punch, he
froze when he heard the simple ‘oh wait,’ followed by the
click of the hammer being cocked.

	“Please, mister,” Willow begged.  “I want to get out
of here just as badly as you do.   I’m so sorry.  I’ve never
even held a g...gun before, and I don’t really think that I like
it too much, and I know you saved our lives and all, but I
really, *really* need your help...”

	Like a micro-processor, Adam’s mind rapidly
considered his options while Willow babbled nervously. 
Fight or flight -- both choices were instantly dismissed by his
proximity to the teenager.   If he were to try and grab the
gun, she would probably squeeze the trigger accidentally;
and as unstable as she seemed to be at the moment, he didn’t
trust her not to shoot if he decided to cut his losses and
make a run for it.  It wasn’t that he was overly afraid of
being shot -- that had happened to him countless times over
the years -- but bullet wounds were still messy and painful,
even to Immortals.  Not to mention the fact that if he were
to die, it would still take a few minutes for his body to heal
itself, thus leaving him exposed to any number of potential
dangers.  In the end, Adam chose the path of least resistance.  

	“Fine,”  he snapped, leaning forward to pull the body
over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.   The weight caused
him to stagger before he finally found his balance.  Keeping
an eye out for potential dangers, he led the way back the car.  
At least the teenager wisely chose to remain quiet as they
walked.

	“Unlock the trunk,”  Adam instructed when they
reached the rental.   It wouldn’t be the first time he’d
transported a body, and he wasn’t about to risk the questions
that could arise should he be pulled over by the police.   

	Much to his annoyance, Willow bypassed the trunk in
favour of the rear driver’s side door.   When Adam was
about to protest, the teenager simply raised the gun she still
held in her hand.   Realizing that she was serious,  the
Immortal gave in, less than gently manoeuvring his burden
into the back seat.   That accomplished, he slid into the
driver’s seat and waited for Willow to get situated in the
front passenger position.  Once her door was closed, the
teenager twisted in her seat, unwilling to remove her gaze
from her boyfriend’s corpse.

	“All right, then.   Which way to the hospital?” the
Immortal asked with false cheerfulness.

	“Not the hospital, the library,” she replied, unwilling
to stop staring at her dead companion.

	“What?!?” Adam asked, not bothering to mask his
confusion.

	“The library.  We have to get him to the library.  Giles 
will know what to do...I hope.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Adam almost sighed in relief when they pulled into
the parking lot of the high school.   Ignoring his steady
stream of suggestions that they go to a hospital, Willow
remained eerily silent during the duration of the short drive
from the park.  In fact, the Immortal wasn’t even sure if she
realized that they’d reached their destination.

	“Willow, we’re...”  

	The rest of his comment was lost as the teenager
opened the door of the still-moving car.   Muttering a curse
at her recklessness, Adam harshly slammed on the brakes
while throwing out an arm to protect her from the force of
inertia.  The gesture proved unnecessary as the redhead
slipped out the door before the car even jerked to a final
stop.

	“Xander!  Oz!” Willow cried, her voice cracking as
the tears she’d held in check on the ride overwhelmed her.

	“Will!  We were just coming to look for you.”

	Exiting the car himself, Adam watched as two
teenaged boys raced across the otherwise empty parking lot. 
He recognized the dark-haired boy from his visit to the
library earlier that morning, but the short blond was a new
face to the Immortal.   That he was an acquaintance of
Willow’s was made clear when he pulled the redhead into an
embrace of reassurance.

	“You okay, Willow?”

	“Where were you?” the taller boy asked impatiently.

	Willow, however, was unable to answer as her tears
finally began to fall.   Searching for answers, the blond never
let go of her as he lifted his eyes to meet Adam’s.  There
was no mistaking the questions in the boy’s gaze.

	“What happened?” he quietly asked the Immortal.

	“I was driving by when I saw her and her friend
being mugged in the park...”  Adam began.

	“Friend?”   The dark-haired teen queried.

	“Angel,”  Willow gasped.  It was as if simply saying
his name renewed the inner strength and courage that the
girl had shown when she stole Adam’s gun away from him
in the park.  With one last sniffle, Willow swiped her nose
with the back of her hand before pulling away from the
blonde’s embrace.   

	“Please, we need to get him to Giles,”  Willow
pleaded to her friends.  Two gasps of surprise could be
heard as she opened the rear door of the car to reveal the
body in the rental’s back seat.   Even in the dim, artificial
light of the parking lot, the injury to Angel’s forehead stood
out in all its gruesome detail.   The force of impact had
smashed the man’s temple, leaving a two-inch divot just
below his hairline.  Like most head wounds, this one bled
profusely in the minutes that it took the die.  In fact, if
Adam didn’t know better, he would have thought that there
was *more* blood on the corpse’s face than there had been
when he’d first thrown the body into the car.   But that was
impossible.   Dead men don’t bleed.  It was a simple law of
nature that even Immortals could not defy.

	“Oh man...” the blond whispered as he blanched at
the sight before him.

	“That’s gotta smart,” the taller boy, whom Adam
recalled was named Xander, quipped while moving to Oz’s
side.

	“Hurry up!”  Willow insisted.

	“It’s too late,” Adam said softly to the two boys, not
wanting Willow to overhear.  “He was already dead in the
park, but she insisted on bringing him here rather than a
hospital or calling the authorities.  There was no pulse, no
signs of life....”

	“I’ve been saying that for years...” Xander griped,
only to be silenced by a none-too-subtle elbow in the
stomach from the shorter kid.

	“Let’s get him to the library,” Oz suggested.  As the
two teenagers moved forward to retrieve the body from his
car, the blond once again spoke directly to Adam.  “Uhh,
look.  Thanks for helping out Willow and bringing him,” he
nodded towards the corpse in the car, “here.”

	“You do realize that’s a dead body.  The police are
already going to ask a lot of questions as to why he was
moved,”  Adam noted.

	“I know this is gonna sound kinda strange, but we’ll
take care of everything from here.  I’m sure you don’t need
the complications from the police asking a lot of questions,
so how ‘bout we just leave you completely out of it.  You
never saw any of us, and we never saw you.  Okay?” 

	Adam instantly saw in the boy’s expression the
fervent hope that his offer would be taken without
reservation.   For just a moment, Adam considered the offer. 
After all, getting involved in a murder investigation wasn’t
exactly in the best interest of any Immortal.  But something
strange was going on here, and Adam would be damned if
he just walked away without satisfying his blatant curiosity. 
Besides, he still needed to talk with ‘Sabrina’ about the
subject that originally brought him to this bizarre little town.

	“Hey, that’s fine by me,” Adam agreed, punctuating
his remark by raising his hands in surrender as the two boys
quickly learned the real meaning of the phrase ‘dead
weight’.

	“Geez, what the hell has Deadboy been eating
lately,” Xander grumbled while he maneuvered one of
Angel’s arms behind his neck.

	“Can we just get to the library?” Willow asked
restlessly.  Her barely constrained impatience reminded the
Immortal of a racehorse at the starting gate awaiting the
sound of the gun.

	‘Deadboy?’ Adam wondered silently as the trio of
teenagers made their way towards the side entrance of the
school.   What truly surprised the Immortal was Willow’s
reaction, or more specifically her *lack* thereof, to the
comment.  And why in blazes was it so bloody important for
them to get the body to the library?  More than ever, Adam
was determined to find out exactly what was going on with
the strange girl he’d been seeking.

	Keeping a discrete distance, the Immortal followed
the teenagers into the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The walk to the library was a long one.   Even at a
distance, Adam could clearly see the redhead as she ran
ahead of her friends, undoubtedly to inform the librarian of
what had happened.   The two boys struggled with their
burden.  They were shouldering the dead man between
them, but the disparity in their heights made it difficult to
distribute the weight evenly.   The legs of the body dragging
along behind them only made matters worse.  As they
lurched drunkenly down the hallway, the Immortal couldn’t
help but have ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ flashbacks -- that awful
movie about two guys dragging their boss’s corpse around
for days on end.

	Once they reached the library, Adam took up
position outside the heavy swinging doors.  The small,
round glass windows afforded him a limited view of what
was happening inside.  Tilting his head, the Immortal
pressed his ear towards the crack between the doors in an
effort to listen in on the conversation taking place inside.  
Although the words were muffled, he could still hear parts
of the conversation clearly enough to gain an understanding
over what was happening.

	The librarian was arguing with Willow even as he
examined the body that had been placed on the large table
Adam had been seated at earlier that day.  The two boys
were standing off to the side with a dark-haired teen-aged
girl, who was purposely keeping her back turned to the
corpse.  Willow was pleading her case as she emerged from
the caged storage room.  In her hands was a large cardboard
box.

	“...have to do the Rite of Heliocus.”

	“Willow, perhaps we should examine this more
carefully before we...”

	“It’s been over 45 minutes, Giles.  He’s never stayed
unconscious that long before.  Besides, even though he
won’t admit it, Angel still hasn’t fully recovered from...what
happened...”

	“Be that as it may,” the librarian interrupted, “what
you are proposing is not only dangerous, but reckless as
well.  By attempting an incomplete incantation, you might
accidentally harm Angel...”

	“NO!”  Even with his stunted view, Adam saw the
other occupants of the library jump at Willow’s unexpected
outburst.   Intrigued, Adam risked being seen by raising his
head to peer into the window.   Staring at the redhead, he
saw on her face the same determined expression she’d had
at the park when she refused to leave her boyfriend behind. 
However, it only lasted for a few seconds.   Vestiges of
self-doubt emerged, despite her best attempts to remain
resolved on the matter.

	“I...I...don’t ask me how...or why, for that matter. 
I...it’s just something that I *know* I have to do.”

	“Will?”  the young blond questioned hesitantly.

	“Oz, I don’t...I can’t explain it.   It’s like, remember
that time at the hospital?  When all that wiggy stuff
happened with the restoration spell?”   The boy called Oz
shared a long, hard look with the dark-haired girl before
nodding to Willow.  “It’s like that again.”

	“God, Giles, just let her do it, if for no other reason
than to close up that disgusting crater on his forehead.  That
is *so* gross!  It’s like one of those icky medical surgery
things on the Discovery channel.   And why do they always
show those things during dinner?  It’s like ‘wow, look, a
human spleen!  Pass the carrots, please.’”

	Rolling his eyes at the girl’s bizarre and totally
useless commentary, Adam stifled a chuckle when Xander
spoke. 

	“That’s our Cordy.  Always so compassionate in a
time of need.”

	“Yes, indeed,” Giles noted before once again
training his attention on the redhead.  “Willow, the Rite of
Heliocus hasn’t been performed in centuries, most likely due
to the fact that no one has been foolhardy enough to attempt
a spell that cannot be completely translated.”

	Willow, however, was already pulling various jars
and bottles from the box on the table, frequently checking
the pages of the cracked, yellowed volume in front of her. 
It seemed as if the librarian was about to continue his
protest when Oz walked up to him and whispered something
in the older man’s ear.  Giles’ body jerked in reaction to
whatever it was that the boy had to say, but Oz clamped a
firm hand down on the librarian’s shoulder, forcing him to
be still.   They exchanged whispers until the boy strode off
to the storage room, emerging a few seconds later with a
black duffel bag in his hand.   Calling to Xander, the pair
made their way up the stairs and disappeared from Adam’s
line of sight into the stacks.

	Willow was busy with an apothecary jar and pumice,
mixing and grinding various contents from the collection of
jars.  Giving into the inevitable, Giles called to the girl
named Cordelia, and together the pair began creating a
circle of sand on the floor of the library.

	‘A spell?’ Adam thought incredulously as the
twosome arranged a series of strategically placed candles. 
‘Riiight.  Like that’s going to help.’
			
	 When he’d first realized that the girl he was looking
for fancied herself to be some kind of witch, the Immortal
was amused.  Teenagers.   No matter what age they lived in,
they always wanted to test the boundaries, to play on the
edge, to somehow distinguish themselves in their otherwise
homogenous surroundings.  It was the same cycle repeated
over and over, regardless of what century the calendar
marked.  They always wanted to be different, to be special,
to be recognized as the ‘new and improved’ generation.  So
they lashed out, behaving wildly, acting recklessly, dressing
differently -- and all the time having no earthly idea that they
were doing exactly the same thing that every generation had
done before them.

	So, it was witchcraft for this little group.  Fine.  So
be it.  To Adam, it was far from original.

	Over the years, Adam had seen his share of ‘magic’.
Once upon a time, he might have believed in its power --
taken the concept of ‘higher and unexplained powers’ as
fact.   However, it was very difficult to maintain that belief
after he was worshipped as a god himself thanks to his
miraculous ability to ‘return from the dead’.   To the
Immortal, it just proved that some people would believe
anything.

	Perhaps P.T. Barnum had said it best when he
quipped that ‘there was a sucker born every minute’.   The
man calling himself Adam Pierson had been many things
over his long life.  A sucker, however, was not one of them. 
And he’d seen the best the world had to offer.

	As far as Adam was concerned, the majority of
magic was nothing more than a mixed bag of
superstition, rubbish, and parlor tricks.   When it came to
anything resembling the ‘supernatural’, the Immortal had
to admit that he leaned more towards the Scully and less
towards the Mulder.  It wasn’t that he discounted the
possibilities of ‘magic’ as a whole -- he had lived long
enough to witness things far beyond his level of
comprehension at whatever given point in time.  Over
the years, Adam had come to realize that ‘magic’ was
simply another name for things that could not yet be
explained.

	“The answers are out there -- you just have to know
where to look,”  Agent Scully once said on the X-Files. 
And, despite the unexplainable existence of his own race,
Adam tended to agree with her.
	
	In the course of his rather lengthy life, the Immortal
found enjoyment in finding and exposing the ‘tricks of the
trade’ when it came to ‘magic.’   For centuries, charlatans
and sham-artists had done it all: the utilization of natural
phosphate to create light shows, the abuse of legends and
folklore to paint more vivid illusions, the mixing of natural
herbs to heal the sick, even hypnosis to fog the audience’s
mind into believing something that was simply not real.  

	It never ceased to amaze him that even as mankind
was racing to explore the stars, millions of people *still*
desperately needed to believe that there was some greater,
mystical force out there that only a handful of con-artists
could reach.  People paid money for instant ‘cure-all’s’ and
phony love spells.  They sent television crews into ‘haunted’
houses.  They paid televangelists millions for ‘healing’ the
sick.  

	Yet, despite the bilking of the public by the
pretenders and charlatans, there were times when he found
himself wanting -- daring -- to believe.  Twice in the past
year alone, he had, albeit out of desperation, placed his faith
in the mystical.  

	The first time was after Duncan MacLeod
succumbed to a rare affliction among Immortals -- a
so-called ‘Dark Quickening’.   Unable to control his baser
impulses, the Scot’s normal, boy-scout personality
experienced a complete role reversal.   It pained Adam to
see Duncan so out of control, and in one last-ditch effort,
the older Immortal brought the stricken Scot to a Holy
Spring.  Although he was less than confident that the waters
were actually magical, Adam hoped that MacLeod’s belief
that they were would be enough.  In the end, Duncan was
able to confront the ‘evil’ within, and emerged from the
milky waters an older, wiser version of his good-hearted
self.
   
	A few weeks after the Dark Quickening, Adam
found himself once again in need of a miracle.  This time the
person affected was the mortal woman he was in love with,
Alexa.  Dying from a terminal disease, the Immortal found
himself unable to cope with her impending loss.  Instead, he
left her side in pursuit of the Methuselah Stone, a mystical
crystal said to bring immortality to the wearer.  Despite the
help of MacLeod and the Immortal thief, Amanda, all but
one piece of the crystal was lost in the murky depths of the
Seine River.  Less than a month later, Alexa passed away,
leaving Adam to grieve the loss of yet another mortal lover.

	Before he could get swept away in his memories, the
Immortal refocused his attention back on the present.
Training his eyesight on the interior of the library, he noted
that Willow was apparently finished with her preparations
and was lighting a series of candles in a circular order. 
Adam knew enough about the basic tenets of witchcraft to
realize that she was attempting to summon the four
elements.

	The muted sounds of her chanting escaped through
the crack in the doors.  She was reading the words directly
out of the book, which she was clutching in a
white-knuckled grip.  Long minutes passed where, as Adam
had suspected, nothing happened.   

	Then he noticed it.

	It was slight at first, a dim blue glow that seemed to
seep directly from Willow herself.  In a way, it reminded the
Immortal of the early stages of a Quickening, the part where
the energy slowly accumulated before the onslaught of the
transfer itself.  The light around the girl intensified as her
chanting grew louder, leaving him to wonder if the two
were connected and, if so, which was the cause and which
the effect?

	As soon as Willow’s chanting reached a fever pitch,
the teenager reached forward to place one of her glowing
hands over the wound on the dead man’s forehead. 
Half-expecting to see the same kind of lightning that
accompanied a Quickening, Adam was sorely disappointed
when nothing out of the rdinary occurred -- at least if one
considered a girl who could make herself glow in the dark
ordinary, anyway.

	That, however, was nothing in comparison to what
happened next.

	Had he been standing at a different angle, the
Immortal never would have noticed it.  So slight a
movement, and yet, so momentous.   A simple twitch of the
right foot.   

	Of a corpse.

	In principle, such a sight should not have shocked
him.  After all, Adam had witnessed Immortals ‘coming
back to life’ countless times.  It was old news, just a simple
matter of fact.

	But this particular man was not Immortal.  Had
Angel even been destined to become one, Adam would have
sensed him as he followed the pair from Angel’s apartment
to the park.

	‘So,’ he wondered silently, ‘what in the fu....’

	It was a question he never got the chance to finish as
a voice rang out from the hallway behind him.

	“I guess you decided not to take that offer on just
walking away, huh?”

	Startled, Adam abruptly swung around to find
himself face to face with the business end of a crossbow.
Fighting his intial impulse to reach for a sword, the
Immortal slowly lifted his hands in a non-aggressive gesture. 
Erring on the side of caution, he kept them at waist-level
just in case the blond teenager’s trigger finger got itchy. 
Through experience, he knew the boy named Xander was
lurking in the nearby shadows.

	“Look, why don’t you two just calm down...”

	For the second time in as many minutes, Adam’s train 
of thought was interrupted; this time by the hair-raising 
screams coming from within the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Adam Pierson was pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	“Then what are doing to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	“Giles?” the vampire questioned impatiently.

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

	“Meters?”

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~