Highway Summer 5/6 [Crossover. B:TVS/Various.]
Paradoqz
"Does it hurt?" She asked and scowled to forestall the
all-too-familiar grin. It didn't work, of course, as Jamie smirked
down at her, insufferably understanding amusement glinting in
deceptively innocent blue eyes.
"Yep." he confirmed blithely. "See, what they do is heat the knife
before they cut you. To disinfect it, you understand. And it
cauterizes the wound."
Dawn was looking at him, a panicky look entering her pale face.
"Otherwise - gangrene." Maddrox continued ruthlessly. "I mean we still
have some people die from shock, 'cuz the pain is so bad but that's
life." He sighed and then bent to whisper conspiratorially into her
ear. "The smell is the worst though. I never knew human flesh when
burned smells just like-- Ow!" The smack was clearly audible in the
confines of the street, the sound echoing briefly, bouncing off the
stone walls of decaying buildings.
"What was that for?" Jaime demanded, gingerly rubbing the back of his
head.
"Bein' a dick." Remy explained mildly.
"Oh." Jaime considered that for a second than shrugged. "That's fair."
Dawn was looking up at Gambit, a somewhat pleading note entering her
voice. "He's lying like a big liar guy, right?"
"Qui, petit." Remy nodded, his lips quivering. "A big liar guy."
Jaime sniffed. "Like most geniuses I'm misunderstood within my
lifetime. Or to put it another way. " He struck a dignified pose, arms
crossed across the chest. "When I die you'll all be sorry!" After a
second's deliberation, he decided that the statement would not be
taken seriously unless he stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at
the Cajun X-man.
"Don't be takin' that there out 'less you intend to use it, mon ami."
"Hey. Enough with the gay innuendo. You're not my type anyway. And I'm
too using it. I'm wagging at you. See?" Jamie carefully demonstrated
what he meant. "Wag. Wag. Wag."
"Hey!" Dawn kicked Jamie's shin with all the viciousness of an
impatient seventeen-year-old and as the young mutant yelped in pain
and clutched his foot, she turned to Gambit. "So it doesn't really
hurt, right?"
Carefully sidestepping hopping and cursing Jamie, Remy ruffled Dawn's
hair affectionately. "A bit. Like a paper cut."
"Oh." Dawn unconsciously brought her hand up to her mouth and bit into
her fingernail, thinking. She started slightly when Gambit firmly took
her hand and moved it away. "What? Oh. Leggo." She pulled on a errant
lock of her hair, anxiously winding it through her fingers. "But
there'll be no hot knives, right? Or branding of any kind?"
"Non. " She was pretty sure Gambit was laughing at her behind his
shades. "Y'safe, petite. Trust me."
"Yeah," Dawn sniffed skeptically at the suggestion. "Right."
Gambit snorted and now she was sure he was laughing at her. She threw
a considering look toward his shin and he held up a warning finger at
her. "Ey now, petite. No rough stuff."
"Hah."
Jamie appeared to have recovered from her malicious blow and was once
again determined to jump into any conversation in his immediate
vicinity. She'd have to hit him harder next time.
"Big bad Boss is scared of little bitty Daw-- Don't hit me, any more!
It hurts!"
Dawn stared at him flatly, unsmilingly and he raised his hands in
warding gesture. "I'll be good."
Remy's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, and Jamie glared at him
warningly. "You shut up." He shivered suddenly, the glower fading
slightly as he glanced around briefly and pulled his coat tighter
about himself. "God, I hate this place."
Dawn glanced at their surroundings and had to admit that Jamie had a
point. It had been two Shifts since Oz had found them and they were
still walking through abandoned streets, cracked pavement pressing at
the soles of her boots. The first city had been ugly, drab, the square
boxes of the buildings depressingly monotonous. She had been glad to
leave it. She had thought the second one was Venice. Now? Who knew.
In her mind time was splintered, boundaries glazed over and sometimes
it seemed that for days now they had walked through the City. Same,
giant, empty metropolis sprawling across the Shifts, too big even for
them to break. It made her feel small.
She did not pay attention, lost in thought and so when Spike was
suddenly right there, blue eyes lost and sad, she faltered in
surprise, but he did not look at her at all. Only at the cracked
pavement of the street and he smiled. "The grass is screaming." He
noted in a conversational tone and chuckled lightly.
"Oh fuck. " Jamie said and stepped back, paling. "Oh fuck. Boss, he's
off again!"
And then Spike's fist whipped out and caught him squarely on the chin.
The fight was brief and violent, and Dawn expected, waited, dreaded
for the moment when Spike's demon would come out but it never did. Not
as he slammed Methos's head into the wooden wheel or he threw Remy
over his shoulder into Saul. He kept smiling and saying nothing even
as the wolf leapt at him, fangs bared in a savage snarl. He simply
grunted as Faith brought the Gambit's staff dully against his skull
and than he crumpled wordlessly at Dawn's feet.
She stood there, shocked and numb, for seconds or maybe days before
Remy's voice snapped out in command, jerking her back.
"Get him in the wagon and get the ring off and .. y'know. The stuff's
in the back." Gambit tongued his split lip and spat, grimacing.
"Merde. Saul, how far?"
"We're almost there, aluf."
"You take the reins. Faith, Maddrox - get the Old Man and get inside
with them. Keep an eye." He snapped his fingers suddenly before her
face and frowned. "Not now, petite. Let's make time. The night, she's
comin'."
"But what -"
"Later." The tone brooked no arguments and she shut up.
***
They walked another half hour maybe, through wide boulevards and
winding alleyways, her eyes drawn, despite herself, to the red-brown
spot on the wheel where Methos's head... She would not think about it.
Wouldn't. There was a reason, an explanation. All she had to do was
concentrate on walking and not looking at the slowly turning wheel.
Walking. She could do that.
The stop caught her by surprise and she almost hit Remy's back before
she caught her step. The Cajun was a bleary shape in the evening's
silky gloom.
"Are we there?"
"Qui." Remy whistled sharply and gestured at Saul. "This is Tem's." He
did not look at her, raising his voice only to bite out "Get him
inside."
"Y'could help, you know." Methos ground out as he stumbled out of the
wagon, holding Spike's shoulders. Behind him Jamie nodded, glaring
poisonously at the Cajun.
"Rank Hath Its Privileges, mes amis." And Remy grinned at the wan
looking Faith who was watching Spike with an almost helpless
expression on her face. "'Hollow eyes...' Dawn thought, but the
thought was fleeting, inconsequential, dying seconds before its birth
as her eyes found the manacles on the vampire's hands. Faith was
looking at them as well, she noted absently, the dull realization
coming as if from a great distance.
"He'll be all right, princess." Remy said softly and Faith nodded,
swallowed and followed after Jamie into the building.
"I'll settle the beastie." Saul pulled on the reins and the wheels
turned and turned and blurred and her eyes were itching and something
wet and cold was in her palm.
The world slammed back into focus as she blinked, tears falling away
and Remy was gone. There was something wet in her palm.
'Probably inside,' she thought dimly and blinked again, 'I should get
inside, Spike is there.' There was something wet in her palm.
She looked down and pale green wise eyes looked back at her Ruv's
muzzle cold and wet against her skin.
He would not wake up.
He lay peacefully, the manacles hidden by the folded leather duster.
He did not even look dead, merely pale, the wan face accented by the
black half-mask. He looked asleep, resting.
He would not wake up. And it was starting to scare her.
"Dawnie." Jamie's hand rested lightly on her shoulder and almost
unconsciously she lowered her head until her cheek touched the tanned
fingers. "Hey, kid. It's going to be all right. Honest."
He sounded worried. For her or Spike? she wondered briefly and stopped
as she saw the cup being placed carefully on the floor next to her.
"Tea? Tem's got the best."
Her eyes closed seemingly of their own will and she heard him sigh and
the rustle of clothes as he sat next to her. His hand somehow still
securely caught between her shoulder and her cheek. Embarrassing.
She did not let go. He coughed. "He's a good guy Tem is. And his place
is always stocked. He's ready. For whatever. Most saraimen are but
he's the best." He sounded uncertain, unsure, talking just to fill the
silence. "I don't know if I could do it, myself. To be bonded with a
place. Everytime the Shifts come, he's gotta start over. Last time we
were by, only the heartstone survived. Tem was pale and grim and just
kept digging through the rubble. We helped of course. But I couldn't
do it. Start over and over like that."
The sounds trailed off and neither of them stepped in to take up the
fading thread of words.
They sat in silence for a while. Dawn, him and Spike. Faith drowning
in exhausted sleep on the low bed in the adjacent room. The rest and
the proprietor whom she still had not met were nowhere to be seen.
She broke the silence first, but refused to open her eyes. "Tell me."
Simply and he answered instantly as if he was just waiting for her to
ask.
"It's the ring." He stopped and corrected himself less certainly.
"We're pretty sure, it's Amara that's doing it to him. It wasn't made
by goodness or for it after all. I... we think it's driving him
insane."
"Why doesn't he take it the fuck off then?!" Her voice almost broke,
she did not mean to raise it, she was so tired. Unfair. Stupid. Life.
Silence. She knew the answer anyway.
How long would a vampire last in the Shifts without the ring? One
unlucky day, the sun instead of night...
She would not cry again. Distraction. That what she needed. Buffy
always said so. Something to take her mind off things. But she was too
tired for make-work.
"Tell me about the scars."
***
"Sorry." Tem shrugged, "They haven't been through here. Been quiet.
Except for the blind witch a few days back not a lot of traffic. You
should try the Kurultai."
Remy grimaced. "I guess we'll have to."
"Sorry." Gambit glanced at Saul and shrugged, drawing his hand lightly
across his face as if clearing it of the cobwebs. "Not your fault,
homme."
He tsked softly and summoned his grin, turning back to the owner of
the caravan-sarai. "So. Where is Borte-khatun?"
Tem was still hammering away at the red-hot piece of iron on the
anvil, ropy muscles moving like snakes under the tanned skin as his
arms rose and fell with almost hypnotic rhythm. "Left."
The short and sullen reply brought unexpected levity to the small room
as even Methos grinned weakly, the damp towel still pressed against
his head. "Again?"
"Shut up." The almond slanted eyes glared brief murder at the three
men, looking strikingly appropriate on the flat Mongol face and
beneath the unkempt and matted reddish hair, damp with sweat.
Remy swallowed his mirth and gestured sternly to the grinning Saul
before addressing their thirty-something squat host. "I'm sure she'll
be back, Tem. She take Juchi wit' her this time?"
"No." The monosyllabic answer sounded as moody as previous replies but
the rhythm of the falling hammers faltered slightly and Remy's lips
quirked.
Behind him the Immortal contributed sourly, his amusement almost
imperceptible. "There you go then. You know Borte, Tem. When she's
serious about it she'll not be running. Just slit your throat and take
over the biz."
Unexpected and blinding like the Northern Lights, Temujin's smile
gleamed in the scalding darkness of the cramped smithy. "True."
***
She's falling asleep, she realizes dimly. Somewhere there is Jamie's
even voice. Talking. Somewhere there is Faith's soft breathing.
Somewhere there are measured sounds of metal striking metal.
She doesn't hear them. Not really. It's all melding together, the
smells from the kitchen, the sounds and the words. The words spilling
into something else, elongating, changing colors, tasting real.
She treads the line between the real and the dream and Jaime's quiet
words live.
She walks with them, the wheels of the wagons sinking in the mud. The
rain lets off, dying into a soft, warm drizzle. She remembers what
Jamie saw.
They stayed in the trenches, talking softly around the fires, throwing
disinterested glances at the passing caravan. Their guns gripped with
tired familiarity. Mud and dirt and grime clinging to everything but
guns clean and deadly. And the swords.
Not one had thrown away the swords. Bronze and sharp and out of place.
Trenches around the Ilios, trenches around Troy.
Trojans and Acheans bound by hate and time, among the madness of the
worlds only enemies remaining familiar. Finding each other time and
again after the Shifts would offer them the mercy of loss and parting.
Clinging to the only pattern they have known from before the Gods went
mad.
The small caravan and the web of trenches threading through the plain.
Trenches around the Ilios, trenches around Troy.
Words dropped unwarily, frayed tempers flaring and snapping.
Blood. Crimson diamonds gleaming in the mud.
Fear. Excited, barely controlled but there as they rush them. Too
many. Too many and he's about to die.
Shift. Sudden savage wrench as always and the world is screaming in a
blinding flash of agony, defying understanding.
And suddenly he's alone, even more alone and he can't feel the comfort
of his tribe behind him, only the shimmering wall of madness splitting
the universe once more.
He fractures, separates, divides himself and pulls the lips back in a
wordless laugh, because that's how the Boss would go, and comes to
meet them.
Fear. The tangy taste of it in his mouth and his doubles dying.
The hand on his shoulder. Gripping, insistent, stubborn, tugging,
saving. The gleam of the familiar gem on the middle finger.
Methos grinning and pawing ground, running, leaping into the Shift.
Crouched, hands outstretched, bird of prey swooping, screeching,
screaming out of the sky for the kill. There with him. Not alone. Not
alone.
The Shift. Wrong. Doesn't feel the same. Too long. Why. Wrongness. The
pull and he sees the universe fall in on itself and out again, oh god
hurt, pain, no, hand on the shoulder still, not alone.
"Saul!" The scream. Pain. Like him. Not him. With him. The gleaming
ring and something's burning. Oh god, it hurts. Pain.
"Fuck!" Fumbling the pouch open, spilling dried bones strewing them
over ground, the rugged priest, his shaman, friend muttering words of
power and screaming them into the Shift. And leaping up.
Pain.
Burning. Something's burning.
Pain.
Saul. Praying-dancing-grinning-laughing-shouting-the-secret-words.
Holding the Shift in place and bleeding and screaming and singing,
wild hair flying, the staff whirling.
Blood.
Pain.
Burning
Understanding and it slips away.
Stumbles, falls through, the grass, fresh grass, smell of it like
liquid fire filling lungs. Alive, and other side, the wagons, friends,
relief, fear, blood, excitement, pain.
Something's burning. Something's burn... Someone.
Dawn's asleep and not. She listens, she remembers the ruin that
minutes earlier was the gleaming pale marble of Spike's face.
Remy's shades opaque and hiding all the world.
"Guess the jewel doesn't work under two suns at once."
Guilt. Shame.
Pain.
And later more as he tries to divide and call his doubles and only
manages four and coughs the blood onto fresh smelling grass.
Darkness. New life.
Somewhere Jaime swallows, the only break in even, flowing, horrifying
tale. She hears dimly, she listens, she's not asleep.
***
Dawn sat, hugging Oz. Her face hidden by hair and fur, nuzzling his
neck, hiding behind his warm breath and the wet, lolling tongue.
Jamie was somewhere in the room but quiet. The strange foggy memory of
words spoken and something shared was fragile and fading already as
half-forgotten dream.
The coarse gray fur tickled against her bare arms and she burrowed her
face deeper, watching Remy lean over the immobile Spike.
"Well," The kapetain sighed and bared the sinewy arm. "Here goes."
She winced in sympathetic pain as the bright metal slid across the
skin and pushed upward, hungry for the air.
"We're one blood you and I," Remy whispered, and the blood fell
heavily, striking the vampire's lips, splattering across his mouth.
"We're tribe. Come back to us."
Something made the air heavy for a long moment and someone - that
might have been her - gasped but in the end when Spike's eyelids
trembled and slip open, she was almost not surprised at all.
From the dark corner Jamie glowered. "About time. I ain't getting the
firewood alone. All shall suffer with me. Oh yes! None shall get away
through clear fakery!" He sniffed and got up. "Anything to weasel out
of the honest day's work, I swear."
Spike's teeth flashed and the tension melted out of the room.
"I may yet faint." Methos drawled. "Have you heard the one about pot
calling the kettle black?"
"I have no idea what you are insinuating." Jamie informed him
haughtily and with the tatters of his dignity wrapped around him made
for the door.
"You were always kind of slow," the Immortal agreed and followed Jamie
out.
Bright even teeth gripped the end of the white gauze and pulled,
ripping it. Remy sniffed, grinning down at the vampire. "Ah. Tem's
cooking already."
"Oh, bollocks. I was better off comatose."
Tying off the bandage Gambit snorted. "Get off your lazy ass and make
yourself presentable." The red-black eyes slid critically across
Spike's prone from. "As much as possible at least. We've company for
dinner. And it's a nice night. I think we'll take it outside."
The company turned out to be a longhaired and clearly stoned youth
with kind brown eyes and a chain-smoking Englishman in the rumpled
suit whom Remy introduced as Pete.
The night was nice. The warm and breezy summer evening, stars shining
like a broken pearl necklace above and the fire built against the
drying, dying bush was eating with joyful ferocity through broken
crates, newspapers and the rest.
Methos was still hissing at Jamie somewhere in the darkness, the
latter biting back.
"Well what I was supposed to do?"
"Well for starters NOT USE MY DAMN SWORD TO CHOP FIREWOOD!"
"Do you know how tough those old crates are?!"
"I will kill you know. For the good of all mankind."
The younger stranger laughed, leaning easily against the Englishman,
the brown hair falling in his eyes. " I like you people. I'll have to
remember this place."
Pete snorted sardonically and spat out his cigarette into the fire,
"You'll be lucky if you still remember your name tomorrow, Josh.
You're flying higher than the bloody MIR."
Josh chuckled, brown eyes gleaming with the reflection of the fire.
"You're just jealous I didn't share."
"Oh, fuck off."
Joshua grinned again and glanced at Saul, his smile dimming for a
second but returning in force as he winked at Dawn. "Pretty far from
California, huh?"
"Yeah." From his tee shirt the Beatles looked back at her, , the
lettrs curved around the rips in his worn jeans. She squinted making
out three... no, four words that made no sense to her and shrugged.
'Mene, Mene, Tekel, and Parsin,' she thought. 'Sounds pretty.'
"Where you headin'?"
Pete looked up at Remy's question, lips pursed in an acid smirk. "I
was thinking theRiviera myself. But the kid here, he has a hankering
for Acapulco."
"Don't listen to him." The same lazy smile was still playing across
Josh's lips, as if he was listening to some music only he could hear.
"He's all bitter 'cos we met his ex a few Shifts back. He's so
sensitive."
"You dozy shower of shit, you..."
While Pete sputtered in indignation and imprecations, Josh nodded at
grinning Gambit. "We met this blind girl not far from here, she told
us about this place."
"That girl was at least twice your age, you arrogant prick."
Ignoring Pete, the kid glanced back at the stone building behind them.
"This is the tribes' place right? One of your sarais? Nice digs.
Strong Wards. Will keep out most of the nasties lurking out there, if
I'm guessing right."
In the darkness Temujin bowed slightly, biting into the rabbit's leg.
"Not good enough to keep the Shifts out though."
Saul chuckled at that and from behind him Jamie quipped. "Well as can
be plainly seen from his stew Tem is not quite the Almighty yet."
Josh laughed out loud. Temujin growled softly and Jamie added hastily.
"It's just a matter of time though, I'm sure."
"Don't have to be a God." Pete noted lazily and sipped from the bottle
Spike passed along the circle. "Oh, nice..."
"Thanks."
"What do you mean?"
Methos smiled humorlessly, at Dawn's quiet question, hawkish face
swimming out of the darkness for a brief moment. "Fairy tales of the
infamous Oasis again, is what he means."
"No tales," the Englishman said calmly and took another swig.
Josh spread his arms in apologetic gesture. "Actually he's telling the
truth."
"Riiight," Jamie drawled out, irony undisguised. "And they grow gold
on trees there, and food falls from the sky and the talking bees serve
them their dinner."
Pete glowered at him and the younger mutant grinned back, unrepentant.
"Hey, that's the way I heard it. But no. Seriously. I believe you. I
do. Anything's possible in the Shifts after all. Why, once I saw Kris
Kringle chasing some kid through Atlanta with an axe. And then
Shakespeare sped past in a red sleigh being pulled by one thousand
monkeys. And they were typing King Lear at the same time."
"You're an idiot." Pete declared flatly.
"But at least I'm pretty." Jamie countered affably. "And believe in
personal hygiene."
"I dunno," Faith's quiet voice forestalled the starting argument as
she narrowed her eyes in thought. "The way I heard it Mikey's clan got
real close once. And Vic met a couple of people from there even."
Spike snorted and she bristled. "Vic wouldn't lie."
"He wouldn't, " Remy agreed. "But ever since the Sundering he's not
exactly the same, chere. None of the Zefiro are. Losing most of your
tribe does something to a body, neh?"
"What about Mikey, then?"
Spike voice carried just far enough. "He's Irish, pet."
Pete grinned and toasted him silently with half-empty bottle. Josh and
Remy rolled their eyes in perfect unison.
The night dragged on, but no one really felt tired. Sleep seemed
strangely inconsequential before the prospect of quiet conversation by
the dying fire.
"... oh it's great." Jamie, she was pretty sure was nodding his head.
And if she had to guess she'd say had a dreamy look in his eyes. "Man,
Dawnie. I envy you. First time at Kurultai. Dude."
She shifted sleepily. "I thought you said we were going to a
festival?"
"Same difference." Jamie waved his hand dismissively. "Festival,
Kulultai, Kris, Bazaar..." his eyes slid slyly toward Methos. "The
Gathering."
The Immortal snorted softly, but didn't reply, intent on what Pete was
saying.
Jamie didn't mind, closing his eyes and sighing in languid
anticipation. "...it's all the same thing. Most of everybody gonna be
there. It's gonna be great!"
He continued to talk, gesticulating and explaining but Dawn found
herself willing to tune out the words themselves and simply listen to
the voices, pulled back only by the changing tones, inflections
altered.
"...purpose is important." Pete insisted stubbornly. "It's the point."
Methos shrugged and threw another branch onto the fire. "I disagree.
Some walk to find. Some walk to walk away. But some simply walk to
walk. Purpose, in the end, is simply a rationalization."
"The world is but a vale of tears and we are but a dream within a
dream?" Josh asked softly.
Methos chuckled softly in reply. "How very Shinto of you."
"A depressing way to look at the world."
"I prefer to call myself adult." Methos shrugged. "Besides I think I'm
optimistic."
Jamie snickered and Methos glanced at him, eyebrow quirking. "Within
limits of course."
Pete grinned suddenly and nudged his friend.
"What?"
"I think he'd like it, Josh."
"Wh-- Ah! Hah. Yeah." A slender hand came up in fluid motion,
gathering his long hair into a sloppy ponytail and then Josh reached
behind, rooting for a moment until finally he found his guitar.
"All right." From Jamie's sitting place there was a rustle and
suddenly a small flame as he slowly waved his lighter above his head,
grinning. "Bon Jovi! Bon Jovi!"
"Shuddup." Faith elbowed him. "Lemme listen."
Josh tried a chord, winced and tightened a string before attempting it
again and nodding in satisfaction. He grinned at Methos. "I'm but an
extremely talented amateur so... cut me some slack, all right?"
Pete sighed in exasperation and lit another cigarette. "Would you quit
blathering and bloody sing already? Attention slut."
Josh smiled and touched the strings.
And then there was silence as none were willing to break the magic.
And on the morning the pair was gone, leaving not a trace behind
accept the memory of the words and simple tune in the warm darkness
above the cooling embers.
***
Turn around, go back down, back the way you came,
Can't you see that flash of fire ten times brighter than the day?
And behold a mighty city broken in the dust again,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around, go back down, back the way you came,
Babylon is laid to waste, Egypt's buried in her shame,
The mighty men are all beaten down, their kings are fallen in the
ways,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around, go back down, back the way you came,
Terror is on every side, lo our leaders are dismayed.
For those who place their faith in fire, their faith in fire shall be
repaid,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around, go back down, back the way you came,
And shout a warning unto the nation that the sword of God is raised.
Yes, Babylon, that mighty city, rich in treasures, wide in fame,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
The meek shall cause your tower to fall, make a new pyre of flame,
Oh you who dwell on many waters, rich in treasures, wide in fame.
you bow unto your God of gold, your pride of might shall be a shame,
For only God can lead His people back unto the Earth again.
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
A Holy mountain be restored, and mercy on that people, that people.
***