Highway Summer. 3/6 [Crossover. B:TVS/Various.]
Paradoqz
***
"Well?" Spike's fingers were drumming impatiently on the wagon's side,
his eyes intent on Saul. "D'you know?"
The older man did not reply. He was squatting in the middle of the
desert road, the long matted mass of his black hair falling
haphazardly about him. Like an exotic veil, Dawn thought. Or a
forbidding chador.
Hunched, his bared torso bent like a taut bow, the unintelligible
mutter and the sharp points of his spine like aimed arrowheads - he
reminded her of the movie she watched with Giles once. Dervishes
praying in the dust of Istanbul.
Of course she didn't quite remember the Holy Men using Levi cut-offs
for a loincloth. A huge improvement, in her opinion, if only from a
hygienic viewpoint.
"Well?" Spike repeated edgily, rooting inside his coat for the
cigarettes. "Anything?"
"Patience," Remy drawled piously without opening his eyes, his voice
carrying easily from where he was seating in a half-lean against the
wagon's wheel. "Is a virtue."
"Not one of mine it ain't."
"Shocker." Jamie noted dryly. Spike scowled at him darkly and the
blond sniggered, plopping down near Dawn. "This is going to take a
while." He stretched, wincing as his shoulder joints popped. "Either
Saul gets it quickly or it takes about two hours, y'know?" He grinned
at her. "No middle ground."
Dawn shrugged, unwilling to admit her ignorance yet again. She was
starting to feel like a fifth wheel asking the questions about
everything all the time.
"Not a clue what I'm talking about, huh?"
Apparently as an actress she sucked.
Jamie laughed. Easily, softly, a welcoming sound.
He reminded her of Xander. Old Xander, Buffy's friend from high
school. Her first crush. Not Alexander Harris, the responsible adult
with tired eyes and sharp edges of rusted steel about him.
Xander before he looked into the night for too long.
She bit her lip and shook the incipient broodiness off, narrowing her
eyes at Jamie instead. "So, ok. What's his deal?"
"Saul?" The young mutant smiled crookedly. "He's in blood feud with
God."
"Shiiiit." Faith's whisper cut across the conversation like a knife
and Jamie stiffened, glancing up sharply at the roof. "What?"
"Company. I think..." The dark-haired Slayer squinted, her pupils
expanding then contracting. "Fuck. Yeah, it's him. It's Gonzag."
"Gird your loins, people." Methos slid past them, joining the
suddenly-alert Remy, a sword gripped loosely between slender fingers,
two guns slung over his shoulders.
"You leave my loins alone, you weird fuck." Faith muttered and leapt
off the roof, landing lithely and disappearing inside the wagon.
"Who's Gonzag?"
Jamie scratched his chin absently. "A customer. Hmm... C'mere, kid."
"I'm not a-" before she could finish she was once more grabbed and
tossed up by strong, sure hands and again she was on the roof.
"Dick," she informed him sullenly.
"Jamie, actually." He grinned and winked and strode off.
A moment later the dust cloud on the horizon grew and soon enough she
could see the riders.
Just few meters apart from her her, Spike stubbed out the
half-finished cigarette, smirking at Methos. "What, no present for
me?"
Remy grinned, accepting one of the assault rifles from the Immortal.
"Face it, homme. He likes me more. Not surprising really. I'm much
prettier and more lovable in general, nes't pas?"
"I sense a bit of insecurity, pet."
"Oh, please. You're not nearly man enough to take him away from me."
Remy flung his hair back out of his face in an overly feminine,
dramatic gesture. "And if you try, I'll scratch your eyes out."
"Gods, Remy. I told you a thousand times. He means nothing to me.
You're such a jealous bitch." Methos noted absently, checking the
magazine and glancing at the approaching horsemen. "Good day to you,
gentlemen."
"Aye, a pleasure it is, indeed."
Remy smiled up into the tanned face of Gonzag, carefully leaning his
gun in the crook of his arm and across his chest. A warning but not a
challenge. Gonzag' s grin widened in response and Gambit could hear
Spike snort faintly behind him. 'I bet I know what he's thinking too,'
the Cajun thought sourly, "Showin' our fangs like two junkyard dogs.'
"So, got anything nice for your old pal, Remy?"
Gambit squinted, shielding his eyes and buying time. The question was
asked in that same mild, soft tone that Gonzag always used during
negotiations. Of course he also used the same tone when he ordered one
of his men impaled for disobeying his orders. Come to think of it that
was the only tone Gonzag ever used.
Tall, blond, blue-eyed strong-jawed. Almost offensively healthy even
if he was pushing sixty according to the rumors. The very picture of
Aryan perfection and seemingly designed to be a lady-killer.
It was no wonder that Methos disliked him on the first sight, Remy
thought. The touch of brogue just added to the man's charm. Gambit
would have said Afrikaans or maybe Dutch, be it not for the Shifts and
a multitude of new choices they offered.
Besides he'd never heard the name Gonzag being all that popular either
in Pretoria or Amsterdam.
Spike shifted almost imperceptibly next to him, a split second before
Gonzag's brows came together in a fleeting frown. "Well?"
Saul was still rocking, muttering, whispering in the middle of the
road.
The rest of the gang surrounded the small caravan, three men standing
in unconscious unison around the kneeling figure of their friend, a
proud island in the middle of horses and the armed brigands.
To waste time over decisions was not in his nature and so Remy
grinned, the red-black eyes glinting with mocking challenge,
noticeable only to those who knew him well. "Non. Nothin' as good as
the last time."
Gonzag's horse danced to the side unexpectedly, spooked by the
dinosaur's smell and its rider pulled on the reins in a suddenly cruel
jerk, forcing it back.
'We're all going to die horribly now,' Methos realized somewhat
fatalistically. He glanced at Spike to make sure he was set to go for
Gonzag's second as soon the trouble started. Gratifyingly the vampire
looked as ready and willing to ruin someone's day in the most
homicidal manner possible as usual.
Even more gratifyingly his eyes too had a somewhat unbelieving look.
Remy's sheer impudence caught him by surprise as well then. Oh good.
"Is that right..." Gonzag drawled. His eyes were unreadable and so the
speed with which his hand disappeared inside his jacket was even more
shocking. Methos's rifle dipped, the crosshairs lining up perfectly
until Spike moved suddenly, lithely to stand directly in his line of
fire, the vampire's right hand snaking out to come at rest on Gambit's
shoulder.
The sun's violent dance turned the flask silver as it tumbled through
the air. It seemed it would keep falling to the ground, and only at
the last possible moment Remy's hand was suddenly there. Gonzag
snorted, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still
fast, Cajun. Still fast."
LeBeau smirked and tipped the unscrewed flask, tasting the biting burn
on his tongue. "Burgundian by Madonna and the Saints!"
Gonzag's sudden bellow of laughter rolled across the desert and in the
distance a flock of vultures, alarmed, left a rotting corpse.
"It seems we'll not die today after all," the Immortal muttered and
surreptitiously wiped his forehead, looking around with clever hooded
eyes. Spike didn't answer, if indeed he heard him at all, his grim,
silent presence looming over Saul, his pallor and almost palpable
chill strikingly discordant amidst the desert's oppressive midday
heat.
Remy was still talking with Gonzag, both men seemingly at ease, the
flask and jokes flying back and forth.
Behind him he could feel a walle of noise and smell. Alien. Pulsing
with Otherness. A sardonic, self-mocking spark flickered and died in
the blue-green eyes. 'Ah, Methos, old man. Sybarite and city dweller.
Not comfortable with crowds? Wilderness has put its eye on us again.'
Milling riders around the wagon, horses snorting in suspicious
wariness as they were pushed closer to Zuny's massive bulk, the
friendly voices of the bandits raised in laughing banter. He shook his
head and grinned openly now, listening to Dawn holding her own, and
the brigands guffawing at their own comrades taken aback by the kid's
sharp tongue.
He smiled again, raising his face toward the sun and soaking up its
warmth.
'The world is a strange, strange place,' the thought emerged among the
jumble of others and emptiness of momentary peace, before disappearing
again broken into a myriad of shards by unforgiving time.
"It's a pity." Gonzag sighed and tsked regretfully giving the flask
another shake in the vain hope to produce more wine. "That last
shipment.. eh? Very good stuff."
"Luck of the draw." Remy shrugged. "Y'know how it is, neh?"
Gonzag nodded and shrugged, smiling easily. "Life, eh? The bitch is
stone cold sometimes." The flask disappeared back inside his jacket
and he leaned forward, his left hand idly running through the horse's
reins. "Bad times?" The blond head nodded slightly toward the wagon.
"You caravan has shrunk, my friend."
"Non." White even teeth gleamed in a self-deprecating smile and Remy
spread his arms in a Gallic shrug. "Shiftbreak. We looking for our
better half."
Gonzag chortled again. "Tcha, mego. I noticed. Not like you at all to
lose your women, eh, LeBeau? Getting old. Getting old."
"As do we all." Gambit agreed, the mock melancholy coloring the words
and given lie by the laughing eyes. "As do we all."
"Tcha! Ain't that the sad and sorry truth. But not quite yet, eh? Not
quite yet by Dagon and the seven hells!" The brigand laughed again and
sat up straighter in the saddle. "So, nothing? Nothing at all?"
"Well we got a couple of AK ammo crates but..."
"Ai. That does me no good." Gonzag snorted. "Well. Pity. Maybe next
time, eh?" He nodded shortly and pulled on his reins the smile sliding
off his face like a forgotten mask. "I'll see you around, LeBeau."
"Not if I see you first, homme."
A barking laugh, a sharp commanding whistle and then the crimson line
of the horizon was blurring behind a haze of the dust cloud.
And soon they were alone again, the road stretching empty and inviting
and Spike's lips were curling in scornful unbelieving sneer. "Well,
sod me."
Faith whooped, tumbling out of the wagon, the sound carrying easily
over the desert.
Next to her Jamie suddenly guffawed, then laughed out loud. "What a
maroon!"
Methos was still looking in the direction of the disappeared band,
shaking his head. "I don't believe it."
He caught Spike's glance and shrugged, grinning. "I don't. I simply
don't believe it."
"Devil on his shoulder." The vampire smirked, inclining his head
slightly toward Gambit and the Immortal snorted, a reluctant chuckle
still tugging at his lips.
"I truly think I'm in love with Messer Gonzag," Remy said mildly.
"There will be a reckoning eventually, you know," Methos cautioned
him.
"I don't get it." Dawn frowned uncertainly. "What's going on?"
"You're one morose fucker lately, you know that?" Faith spat
disgustedly, grabbing the rifles from Methos and disappearing inside
the wagon. "Snap out of it!"
"She's got a point, Old Man," Jamie noted thoughtfully, grinning into
Methos's scowl. "Optimism is your friend."
"I don't get it," Dawn repeated insistently and the Immortal turned to
her, ignoring Jamie entirely.
"What this bunch of comedians forgot," he said, gesturing disdainfully
at the rest of the kumpanie, "Is that we were this far from getting
our livers fed to the Gonzag's pet snake."
"Oh... But he seemed so nice." Dawn blinked. "I thought he was your
friend."
"God save us," Jamie muttered behind her and spat three times over his
shoulder. Methos's and Dawn's twin glowers stabbed out at him and
Jamie retreated. "Whoa. Umm... I'll go help Spike with Saul."
"Do that."
Methos chuckled as the young mutant sprinted away toward the three men
and Remy turned around to shoot him a dirty look.
"Oh, you're in trouble now."
Methos grinned, glancing at Faith, "Oh, Remy's a big boy. A famed
fighter. Masterful negotiator. I'm sure he can handle James."
"You are a bad, bad man," the Slayer smirked, a cigarette dangling
from the corner of her lips. "Hey squirt. Wanna smoke?"
"No. Thanks." Dawn clambered carefully from the roof, dropping heavily
to her feet. She straightened quickly and jerking her shirt back into
place poked Methos in the chest. "I want an answer. What's up with
this Gonzag dude?"
The Immortal stared bemusedly down at the teenager, exchanging a
hooded look with the grinning Slayer over Dawn's head before answering
blandly. "He's a customer. We value his business. Of course he's also
an occasional highwayman, but that's life."
"You sound like Anya," Dawn said sullenly and Faith laughed out behind
her.
"Not a compliment I assume?" Methos inquired quietly.
"Sorta." Faith exhaled deliberately, observing the smoke cloud. "I
think you better tell it to her, man. She might poke you again."
"I'm a wild child," Dawn confirmed flatly. "I'll do it."
The Immortal shook his head and his hand rose palms up in ironic
supplication. "I give, I give." He slid down, sitting cross-legged by
the wagon's wheel. "We meet Gonzag from time a to time. The Shifts are
not as boundless as we think, after all. And he ranges along the same
routes."
Methos shrugged. "We trade. He wants arms. We scavenge a surprising
amount of serviceable weapons when we trek."
Dawn frowned as Methos finished lazily. "He really liked the plasma
rifles."
"Wait." The teenager blinked. "I know what those are, I met a guy he
... with that... Man! You gave those things to a bandit?!"
"Sold them." Methos corrected her placidly.
"Are you insane?!"
Faith chuckled quietly. "Verdict's still out."
Dawn glowered at her briefly before her eyebrows drew together again
in a thoughtful expression. "Why did you think he'd be angry with you
then? Gonzag, I mean. And wait... why don’t you have any of
those plasma thingies?"
" 'Cuz the 'plasma thingies' need...-" Dawn wheeled around at the
sudden addition to the circle and Spike was grinning at her, a silver
dollar slithering between his fingers. "Fuel cells, Nibblet."
"So what? Everything needs something." Dawn scrunched her nose
disdainfully. "Bullets and stuff."
"Bullets and stuff." Methos echoed her, faintly amused.
"What?! It's true."
"It certainly is." The Immortal agreed serenely and Dawn's eyes
narrowed dangerously.
Spike laughed, the coin disappearing in a complicated hand gesture.
"It's a lot easier to find spare parts for the Kalashnikovs, love. PRs
are a bit more exotic. And when Gonzag realizes that simple truth..."
"He's gonna be pissed." Dawn finished the sentence for him.
Behind her Faith grinned wolfishly, the cigarette crushed under her
dirty boot. "Ayep."
Dawn started another question but Methos was suddenly up, eyes intent.
"Saul's awake. Let's go."
***
The old man was still trembling slightly, even in the desert's heat,
but his gaze was even. "I have it."
Jamie snorted skeptically and squinted. "Oh yeah? And can we get a
percentage of confidence on this?"
"James."
The blond ignored Gambit's warning, still staring down at the man
squatting n the middle on the road. "I just want to know if we're
going end up in a sea of lava again, boss. Y'know. Like the last
time."
Remy stepped deliberately between Saul and Jamie, catching the younger
mutant's eyes with his own. "Maybe -you- want to try and find them,
eh?"
Maddrox was silent, sullen.
"Non? Bien. Then stop bein' a prick." Gambit's voice suddenly lost the
biting quality and he grasped Jamie's shoulder in a brief clasp.
"Y'know this here hocus-pocus stuff is not exact, homme. We'll trust
in out luck. Besides..." Remy grinned, turning back to Saul. "The old
man here has been more right than wrong, neh?"
"Actually I'd say it's about even." Methos noted absently, helping
Saul to his feet. "But the pest's point stands. How sure are you about
this one?"
Almost reluctuntly Remy's head swung around to regard Saul with an
uncertain gaze.
The callused fingers were gathering the unruly mane into a ponytail,
the black eyes tired and dull but still, Saul smiled and shrugged
meeting Gambit's eyes. "As sure as I was the last time, aluf."
Spike barked in an abrupt, mocking laugh and Jamie groaned pained.
"Oh, God, I hate my life."
***
It feels good to walk, to feel the strength in her legs, the muscles
playing under her skin, to feel seemingly inexhaustible energy boiling
within her. She wonders if that's how it feels to be a Slayer, or an
Immortal. Dawn shrugs slightly and the thought is lost as she glances
askance at Jamie.
He slowed soon after they set out again, letting the little caravan
overtake him. And now they are walking together, the wagon creaking
softly and slowly ahead of them, the snatches of the others'
conversations and random sounds intruding in an incessant, chaotic
stream on their silence.
Jamie is striding easily, boots leaving fleeting imprints in the dust
that are sundered by the wind mere seconds after they have passed. He
is quiet, oddly withdrawn and pensive.
And not like himself at all, Dawn thinks. Jamie is never quiet.
"So what's up with you?"
The blue eyes meet hers and are darkened by the trick of light. His
mouth twitches in a humorless smile that suddenly seems much too wise
and he doesn't ask her what she means.
"You know," he says absently, running his fingers through the blond
chaos of his unkempt hair, "I don't remember how long it's been since
I've been a Peregrinus?"
He smiles crookedly, sadly. "What a great word, huh? Mythology and
siren's song and fairy tale in one. Just waiting to be sung. That's
what we say we are. Wanderers, citizens of nowhere, strangers in their
own house," he laughs quietly, "Those who never feel at home. Those
Romans knew what they were about."
The odd little smile widens, to show even teeth. "It sounds so
glamorous, doesn't it?"
She doesn't reply. Doesn't have to as he speaks again, talking to
himself as much as her.
"We are Pilgrims in hell, new gypsies of the madness loosed in chaos."
Jamie chuckles darkly. "It's so easy to be a wanderer when they take
away your home."
The cigarette appears as if out of nowhere in his hand and he flips it
up catching it easily with his teeth. "Deserts. So many deserts. I'm
so tired of them."
His voice drops to whisper and he rubs his eyes wearily. "They never
seem to end, y'know? Abandoned cities, dead forests, crumbling
castles.... they are all just deserts. Pitiless, timeless and barren.
Dead. So fucking dead. Especially the cities."
His coat flaps slightly in the soft, warm breeze and he starts,
looking uncomprehendingly at the lighter in his hand. Shrugging, he
lights the cigarette, coughing slightly as he draws in the nicotine.
"Time. It's so big, too big to grasp, too big to know. So easily lost.
So easily taken away.' The exhaled smoke curls in the air before his
face and Jamie follows the dissipating cloud, his expression
unreadable. "More than anything else I blame the Shifts for stealing
time. From me and you and all."
The deep blue eyes slide slowly across the people walking ahead of
them and the odd, rueful smile returns, playing strangely across the
tired face.
His gaze lingers on Spike and Methos. "It's a terrible thing to envy
your brothers, isn't it? Terrible thing to feel the hate shiver in the
back of your throat on the nights when it's just too cold and just too
dark to keep it the green-eyed beast at bay."
Dawn glances at him unsure what to say, unsure what to feel. Jamie's
quiet words echo with unexpected poignancy somewhere in her throat. He
is still smiling sadly, his eyes just a fraction off the vampire and
the Immortal now, fastened on the lithe figure in the black leather
holding the reins.
"Life is a strange and tiring thing sometimes, kid. Terrible and
beautiful and merciless in its little jokes." He laughs, tiredly and
almost desperately with the need to laugh at all and Dawn swallows,
knowing that she had been wrong. Jamie doesn't have a crush at all.
Something deeper, more dangerous, awful in its intensity, is lurking
behind the façade, under the rigidly enforced mirage of a carefree
clown of the group.
The silence lingers again, words suddenly fragile and futile and in
the end supremely trivial before the truths and lies and the unfolding
desert road.
Even the shimmering shock of the Shift wall is not enough to break the
mood and somehow Dawn doesn't want to run ahead. They walk.
And so Jamie's quiet, musing words startle her much more than they
perhaps should.
"Seems I'll have to apologize to Saul." The mutant sighs, wiping the
sweat from his face with a checkered kerchief. "Dammit. I hate being
proven an asshole."
Dawn blinks. "Uh..."
The answering grin is fleeting but genuine, the first real, the first
Jamie, expression in hours. "Lost?"
"Yeah." She admits.
He shrugs. "Figures. What do you know?"
Dawn frowns, listing facts from memory. "You got separated from the
rest of the caravan. And are looking for them. Which I don' get really
'cuz... y'know." She jerks her head behind them where they stepped out
through the Shift only hours before. "Right?"
"That's the short of it." Jamie agrees.
"But what about..."
"You have been on your own a long time, haven't you?"
She frowns unsure of what he means. "Yeah. Why?"
Jamie smiles but instead of replying nods a greeting to Methos, Spike
and Remy. They were standing on the side of the road, waiting for
them. Faith glaring from the top of the stopped wagon, Saul stretched
out on the roof with closed eyes.
It is the Immortal who answers her, matching his stride with theirs
and giving Jamie an inscrutable look. "Humans are strange animals,
Rory. More adaptable than any other predators." The grass-blade dances
as his lips quirk. "Shifts are and we live and those who survive
adapt. By magic, technology or," he glances briefly at Gambit and
Jamie, "Genetics."
Remy shakes his head, the strange eyes narrowing in thought. "Nur's
dancing for joy wherever the bastard is. Only the strong survive. By
hook or crook."
Methos glances at Gambit quickly before continuing as if he had not
heard. "Instincts develop, skills become acquired...." He snorted
softly. "I would not be in the least surprised if somewhere out there
is a little boy with the gift to rule the Shifts."
"Or girl," Dawn retorts automatically, Remy and Jamie exchanging grins
as Methos inclines his head. "Or girl."
"Do you really think so?" Dawn asks. "That there might be a mutant
like that"
The Immortal shrugs, the stalk of the grass gripped in his teeth as he
watches the horizon. "I do. I think it is in fact a matter only of
time."
Her eyes dart almost involuntarily toward the others. She wants to see
them grinning, smirking, laughing. Being them. But they are not and
are serious, their step heavy, eyes dark, listening.
Methos speaks and thinks aloud and looks for prophecy in own words.
"Once, I met a kid. Far from here and not. It was normal to him. It
was life. Born in the Shifts, you see." The Immortal stretches,
unseeing eyes lost in the olive sky, lips quirking in a wistful smile.
"Somewhere somewhen there are, there'll be whole tribes. Shiftborn.
Knowing nothing but. We will die out and be forgotten. The old world
just a myth, a fairy tale to calm the children and keep away the
things of night."
'Like vampires,' Spike thinks. 'The Shifts are not our magic. Someday
I might be the last. Maybe already am?'
"Dinosaurs." The word spills out before he can catch it and Remy
glances at vampire, but says nothing.
Silence. The road stretches through the forest.
"Not the People," Faith alleges firmly, uncompromising mouth set in a
thin determined line.
Methos smiles sadly, cynically. "Maybe not."
They walk.
***