FIC: Broken Swords in the Snow 2/2(BTVS/Highlander)
Paradoqz
and turned to Oz, with whom he'd apparently found some rapport during
the time he'd used his shoulder as a punching bag. "No, we're not
related per se."
A muffled "Thank God" from behind the bar was magnificently ignored as
Methos sipped his beer. "So you never did answer me. What brings you
here?"
"Going home for Christmas. Or I was." Oz looked toward the window, his
expression inscrutable. "Airport was snowed in."
"Must be fate."
Dawson was surprised by the speed with which Oz 's head whipped to
look at him. The green eyes were unreadable. "Must be." Suddenly the
stare slid off Joe to the left and the eyebrows creased in a
thoughtful frown. "Mate in three, right?"
In practice, Oz was a better player than Dawson. But Dawson'd had the
questionable advantage of playing Methos regularly for the last couple
of years. Methos, with his usual catlike arrogance, offered silkily
to take the black -- seemingly in the inescapable position. Dawson
sighed, recognizing the situation but said nothing. Soon enough Oz was
frowning, the green eyes looking at the board with an expression
Dawson knew only too well.
***
The little guitarist also proved to be wiser than Joe and declined the
offer of the rematch, retiring back to the stage to tinker with the
Tobias. Methos looked around him, with the smug expression that as
always proved too much for Dawson's resolve. "All right. Line 'em
up."
He didn't do too bad -- Joe thought -- this time. He frowned
considering the next move. Behind him, Amy coughed impatiently and
Amanda, sitting next to Methos, sipped her martini with something
very close to a pitying expression in her eyes. Joe cleared his throat
and concentrated. The knight was most definitely gone. But he didn't
like that smirk... Aha. No. "Oh, no. You ain't getting my queen, you
conman."
"Moi?"
"Bollocks! See? See what happens when I listen to you? Shite. Blues
bar. We end up in a blues bar."
Dawson raised his head and Methos turned around just as the second
voice joined the conversation, still outside the door. "How is this
my fault?"
"Well excuse me. If we didn't pick up every stray and gave them a
lift, we wouldn't be caught in the middle of nowhere. Now would we?"
"First of all -- I seems to remember you two got along very well. And
the second-hand smoke alone... Yeeegh. Plus. I am not the one who got
lost. Twice! And instead of doing it the easy way you are the one who
insisted on...I dunno. This."
"There's gonna be no easy way. Did we forget our little 'apocalypse'
conversation?" The door opened and the second comment was much
clearer. "And I ain't lost. I know exactly where I am."
"Right. Where are we?"
"North." The first speaker delivered with an utmost confidence and
turned toward the group around the table. "Right?"
Methos nodded. "Most assuredly. We're most definitely north of most
places."
"See?" The hawkish-faced lean man turned back at his redheaded
companion. "I never get lost."
The girl shook her head in exasperation and smiled at Dawson. "Sorry.
He's hungry. That always makes him irritable." She paused for a
moment and added thoughtfully, "Er."
Amy hid her chuckle behind the palm of the hand and very carefully did
not look at Methos. "Yeah. Know how that song goes. I'm Amy. That
there is Adam, Joe, and Amanda. The guy in the corner is Daniel."
"Hi." The redhead smiled again. She had a nice friendly face, Amy
decided. Not beautiful but pretty. Plus red hair. Muchness of envy,
she sighed inside. That'd never work for me.
The guy was... interesting. Goth? Probably. He certainly dressed like
one. Black jeans, black tee-shirt, black leather coat. Even black
manicure. The bleached hair completed the portrait. Yet somehow he
didn't look like a complete idiot. The girl caught her examining her
friend and grinned. "Walking that fine line between tragically hip and
completely ridiculous, that's him."
Amanda snickered.
The bottle-blond appeared unfazed as he made himself comfortable. Joe
shook his head as yet another trenchcoat was added to the pile. Amy
noted the certain protective possessiveness as the man moved to take
the girl's jacket. Boyfriend?
The girl sat down by the bar with a tired sigh. "He's Sp...uhm, Will.
And I am Willow." She appeared momentarily surprised by the
similarity of the names but recovered quickly. But no one at the
table missed the brief confusion and Amy caught Methos and Amanda
exchanging a brief inscrutable look.
Will returned, pausing briefly before the table. "Hey. Nice 'do."
Amanda inclined her head to the frankly admiring tone. "Why thank
you." She glanced at Methos out of the corner of her eye. "Finally, a
man of taste."
Methos responded by shielding his eyes. "Good heavens. 'Tis the
peroxide convention."
Dawson chuckled and waved his hand magnanimously, his eyed locked on
the board. "You want something to drink -- help yourself. Leave the
money on the counter."
"Thank you."
Will did not follow the girl's lead in dispensing gratitude but rather
got right to the point of ransacking the bar. And Amy was fairly
certain that she heard him praising the Lord for trusting suckers.
Apparently so did Willow, who shook her head reproachfully at his
back.
Amy grinned at her and waved her over. "C'mon. It's warmer in this
corner." Willow hesitated for a moment but eventually couldn't resist
and wedged herself in the corner between Amy and the end of the
chair. Will rejoined them himself a moment later, making his disgust
over the status of the bar's pallet loud and clear. Methos, to no
surprise, wasn't far behind in showing firm support. Amanda shook her
head as Willow started fidgeting nervously, vainly trying to catch
Will's attention.
"Don't worry about it, honey." Amy patted the redhead's shoulder and
nodded toward Joe, who was weathering the criticism with a truly
stoic fatalism born of long practice. Willow didn't appear to be
mollified, but before she had the chance to say something her
companion paused suddenly, his fine-boned face tense.
"Wait. Waaaaait." He sniffed the air violently. "Bloody hell. I take
it back." The crescent scar splitting his left brow into three danced
as he grinned wolfishly and focused on Amy, unerringly taking her for
the lady of the house. "Hot chocolate?"
"Ayep."
"Can I have any?" Will inquired plaintively.
Amy made a show of thinking it over and the blond dug into his back
pocket, his English accent getting stronger. "I have money."
Dawson coughed sternly, still not taking his eyes off the board. "Amy.
Don't tease the patrons."
She sighed. "Oh fine. I never get to have any fun."
Will's face melted into a smile of pure joy for a moment before being
drawn together by a wary yet hopeful expression. "Say... Do you have
those little marshmallow thingies?'
"Green cabinet, second drawer."
Willow chuckled slightly as the black blur vaulted the bar and
disappeared behind the doors. "Well. We lost him."
Amy felt her shudder slightly as she acclimated to the warmth of the
room, finally letting go of the chill outside and letting the heat
warm her to the bones, relaxing her. Amanda caught the movement also
and wordlessly moved her brandy across the table, winking.
"Will?"
"Wot?"
The question from the kitchen went unheeded as the redhead stiffened
suddenly, her eyes growing wide.
"Willow..." Oz still sounded unsure and seemed to be holding his
breath as Willow turned around to face him. "Damn."
"I said WOT?! Can't a body drink his chockie in pea... Oh." Will
appeared in the door, holding the biggest cup Joe owned in his hand,
apparently impervious to the heat of the steaming liquid inside. The
blue eyes moved from seemingly-frozen Willow to Oz and back, taking in
the situation at a glance. "Oh bloody hell." He chuckled
disbelievingly and raised both eyes and mug heavenward in a brief
gesture of respect. "Good one."
Methos' eyes narrowed as the little guitarist sunk into a crouch and
something that sounded a lot like a growl trembled through his throat.
And the jovially cynical Billy Idol wannabe casually put down his mug
on the bar and stepped to the right to give himself room.
"No!" Willow's scream cut the sudden tension. "No, both of you!"
Oz didn't relax, turning his head slightly. "You're with him?"
Will smiled with the arrogance Dawson found disturbingly familiar, and
in a quite obviously provocative tone contributed. "Quick, aren't
you? No, we're here at the same time purely by coincidence."
"Spike. You're not helping."
Will, or rather Spike, appeared genuinely surprised. "Well -- duh.
Hello? I am eviiiil. Pure eviiil. Remember?"
Willow squinted annoyed eyes at him. "Spike."
"Fine, fine." The blond sniffed disgustedly and picked up his
chocolate, making his way to the table. "Don't get any blood on the
carpet now, you hear? We're broke."
Willow sighed and, grabbing Oz's arm, pulled him away toward the stage
and out of earshot.
Methos raised a calm eyebrow as he casually took Joe's queen. "Spike?"
"Yeah." Will shrugged. "What can I say. It seemed like a good idea at
the time." He gulped his chocolate "Is she all right?"
Methos glanced at Amanda, her foot tapping the floor and eyes burning
with curiosity as she observed the quietly talking couple by stage.
Dawson shrugged. "Well. If she spontaneously combusts we've got a fire
extinguisher in the back... Damn. Dammit!"
Spike looked at the board. "Give him the rook."
"What?"
"Give him the rook, then take that far pawn."
"Yeah, right. Thanks." Joe shook his head, and muttered something
about amateurs. Then suddenly paused and looked at the board again.
"Hey. Heeeey now."
Methos frowned. "Two on one?"
Spike shrugged. "I could take you one on one."
"Is that right?'
Amanda sniggered softly, catching Amy's eye. "When egos attack. News
at 11."
Joe didn't waste time and grabbed at the opportunity to escape. "Poor
kid. He has no idea what he's in for." He shook his head in
commiseration and firmly put another chair between himself and the
board. "Must have hit his head when he got that chocolate."
Amanda grinned into her brandy and he glanced at her. "What?"
She nodded silently toward Spike's heavy black boots, the right shoe
scuffed white. Joe shrugged. "So?"
Amanda sipped her drink contentedly and lowered her voice tinged with
amusement. "He checked for the back door, Joe."
"Check."
"Bollocks. All right. What about this."
"Hm..."
Amy sighed and got up, stretching leisurely. "This is such a gyp. What
kind of a Christmas is this? Hm? We don't even have a tree. Where is
my tree?"
Amanda nodded firmly. "The girl's got a point, Dawson."
Joe raised his hands defensively. "Hey! Don't gang up on me, all
right? I bought one. Paid and all. They were supposed to deliver it
this morning."
Amy sniffed. "That's what happens when you leave it till the last
minute."
"Oh, please! You can't be serious! The Ramones couldn't wipe the
Pistols' collective arse. And also check."
"If you say so."
"Didn't I just? And I meant to give you that knight."
Methos added something Dawson didn't catch and Spike's eyes flared. "I
knew it! I knew it! Every fookin' time! You bloody Americans. Every
time you get into argument about music you have to drag King Cole
into it. He's been dead thirty years and more! Let the man rest in
peace!"
"Well so has the Billy Idol look, but you are keeping THAT alive by
sheer perseverance."
"Hey, now..."
Dawson frowned, looking at the board from the distance. "I'll be
damned... I think the kid's got him on the run."
"Checkmate."
"What? Waitaminute... Oh, shite. I can't believe I missed that...
Dammit!"
Two feet behind him, Dawson sighed. "Dammit."
Spike propped his head up by the right hand, muttering under his
breath and retracing his moves. "I don't believe this. I haven't lost
in a hundred years..."
"Figuratively speaking."
Spike threw a sullen glance at Willow before going back to the board.
"Right. Whatever."
Willow grinned at the curious glances shyly, her hand lightly gripped
in Oz's. "He's not a ball of sunshine."
"We've noticed," Amanda remarked dryly.
Amy sighed loudly. "I want my tree."
Dawson raised his hands in exasperation. "Don't pout. It's
undignified."
"I don't care! I want my tree!"
"There is no tree!"
"I want one!"
"You can't have it!"
"Want!"
"Umm..." Willow retreated a step under twin blue glares but rallied
gamely. "Actually... There is a tree. It's right outside. In
the...uhm...snow." Her eyes suddenly lit with a unhealthy glow and
she added demurely, "I am sure Sp...Will is going to be more than
happy to help."
Spike's head came up sharply as he tried to catch up on the
conversation. "I will not!" He regarded the suddenly sad faces of the
men around him and his eyes narrowed farther. "Help with what?"
*** "Okay. OW!"
"I'll see your Ow and raise you a Gah."
"Turn it, turn it... To the right. Fuck! To. Your. Other. Right."
"Sorry."
"Another sorry like that and there is going to be one less Spike."
"How's that a bad thing again?"
"Grrrr."
"Push, it, push it!"
"We're not giving birth here, Joe! Get out of the way!"
"Heave ho!"
"Who are you calling a ho'?"
Tree hit the floor with an appropriate whomp and the trio retreated,
looking at the fallen giant with an undisguised loathing. Spike
reached into the pocket and fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes,
absently offering them to Methos and Oz. Before either could decline,
the pack was deftly plucked out of his hand. "Ey! What's wrong with
you? Give 'em back!"
Amy calmly pocketed the pack and pointed imperiously at the "No
Smoking" sign above the door. Spike looked at Dawson in disbelief.
"She's kidding, right?"
Dawson shrugged.
"This is a blues bar!"
Dawson shrugged.
"Are you people insane?!"
Dawson shrugged. Amy frowned sternly. "You're not done, anyway."
Amanda nodded firmly. "Stand her up. Time to decorate."
"Oh."
"What fun."
"Good one, Spike."
"Shuddap, runt." Spike sighed and with quiet fatalism approached the
tree. "All right. On three?"
"Three."
"No! Och.. Well. That's just bloody marvelous. Goodbye, spleen. I'll
miss you always."
"Lean it...carefully...carefully...CAREFULLY!"
"Sorry."
"Petty vengeance, Spike?"
"It's the best kind."
Amanda squinted and looked at Amy. The latter pursed her lips and
nodded. "To the right, I think."
Methos's face appeared from between the fir and snow to glare at his
Watcher momentarily before diving back in.
"Oz?"
"Yessss?"
"Unless you are buying me dinner right after, get your damn hand of me
arse!"
"Not me... And would somebody mind terribly securing this end?
Quickly."
"Well, I'm sure as soon as Adam done molesting me, he'll be happy to
oblige."
"I'm over here, Spike. And you're not my type."
Willow swallowed a highly undignified giggle as Amanda faced Spike's
suspicious stare with her most innocent one. "Yes? Was there
something?"
Spike regarded three studiously virtuous faces with a baleful
expression before turning to look at Dawson. "There's no way I'm
going to win this, is there?"
"You're wise beyond your years."
"Spike..."
The blond glared at the women again, apparently debating the wisdom of
getting into an argument.
"Spike?"
"What?"
"I hate to bother you but the tree is sort of falling."
"So?" Spike bit off, still glaring at the trio.
"On me!"
***
"I still say it's not straight."
Methos smiled and firmly sat on the nearest chair. "Isn't that just
tragic?"
"I know my heart is breaking." Spike downed another glass of bourbon
and filled it again, gingerly probing the bright red welt on his
cheek. "Right?"
Oz nodded, gasping. "Yeah. Terrible."
Willow scratched her chin and squinted speculatively. "You know I
could..." Her fingers moved slightly and Spike rapped them sharply
without turning around. "There'll be none of that, now."
"It's just a little one!"
Spike turned around, the blue eyes suddenly stern and empty of humor.
"No."
Amy held her breath as beside her Oz tensed. But after a moment's
pause Willow dropped her eyes. "I was just saying..."
Spike held the silence taut for a second before relaxing. "Right. And
I need my nicotine." He turned around until spotting Amy, and
stretched out his hand imperiously. "Hand 'em over."
Amy stepped back, clutching her pocket protectively. "Not in here."
Spike looked at her speculatively and then at the door and the sounds
of the storm outside. Then back at Amy. "Fine. Gimme."
He grabbed his coat on the way and limped his way toward the door. Joe
winced sympathetically. "Tree got you?"
Spike's steps faltered slightly. "Yeah."
He exited the bright room, closing the door carefully behind him.
Willow looked after him sadly but did not follow.
He sheltered from the snow in the corner that the stairs made and,
shielding the matches from the wind, lit up. The first drag filled
his lungs with the acrid, biting smoke and he exhaled it slowly,
savoring the bitter taste.
*** "Accident?" the hitchhiker asked, nodding at his limp.
"Girlfriend," he replied shortly, lighting up and throwing the pack to
the guy with the weird eyes and annoying accent.
The witch disappeared inside to pay for the gas and they stood
outside, leaning against the car, the wisps of the smoke torn away by
the wind into the darkness in a matter of seconds.
"Happens," said the hitchhiker as he took off his shades, looking at
the billowing snow with a strange expression. "You broke up?"
"On and off." Spike glanced at the meter. "I'm on and she's off."
"Happens," Remy repeated, and they stood in silence for a time,
looking at the falling snow.
***
"He's not going to freeze out there, is he?" Amy sounded worried as
she glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time.
Willow shook her head, her eyes still sad but not alarmed. "He likes
the cold sometimes."
Amanda looked toward the door perceptively. "Bad break-up?"
Willow nodded. "Something like that. He took it badly."
Oz suddenly straightened, startled. "Buffy?"
"Yeah."
"And Spike?"
"Yeah." Willow was starting to sound a little defensive. "Riley headed
for the jungles."
"I know. Ran into him ways back."
Methos chuckled suddenly without humor from the depths of his chair,
looking up at the glittering, haphazardly-decorated tree. "Some
gathering this is. The abandoned and the cast-out. Come all and make
merry."
Willow frowned but fell silent, catching Amy's look. The latter smiled
ruefully, looking at the suddenly thoughtful Amanda and Joe.
"I leave for a second and you degenerate into an angstfest." Spike
shook his head. "This is Christmas, for cripes' sake. Where is your
damn cheer?"
"I'm Jewish." Willow grinned at him, shaking the melancholy off. "I've
got an excuse. Adam?"
"Atheist. Amanda?"
"I am full of cheer, darling. It's Spike here that's bringing the mood
down."
Spike looked around and finally put out the cigarette butt in Amy's
cup. "I am what she said. Jewish."
"That explains a lot."
Spike flipped Methos a bird and sunk on the floor by Willow's chair.
"Christmas. What a joke."
"Not a fan of the gentle man from Nazareth?"
Spike shrugged, looking at the fireplace with hooded eyes. "He was a
hero. I'm not a fan of heroes."
Methos closed his eyes, his hand holding Amanda lightly as she
reclined in his lap, her eyes also unfocused, looking with an
unseeing stare into the fireplace. "Heroes... A strange and cursed
breed. Doomed to walk alone."
Spike laughed, a short and unpleasant sound. "A contagious curse,
that. World would be a nicer place without them if you ask me. Them
and their standards." He paused, his voice, losing some of the edge.
"No one can judge us harsher that ourselves. Save for our heroes."
Willow's slender pale hand reached down and ruffled the blond hair
affectionately. "And yet."
"And yet?"
"And yet," Dawson said quietly, stretching his dead legs. "In the end
they stand between us and the Darkness. Even if it's our own."
"Unless it's too dark. And then we burn and they watch."
"And yet." Methos sighed, a strange self-mocking expression darkening
his face for a second. "In the end if they call, we will come."
"Yeah, well. Works both ways, don't it? Ain't life grand."
Amanda refilled the two glasses and kissed Methos softly on the cheek.
"To our heroes? Imperfect as they may be?"
Methos accepted the glass and locked his eyes with Spike for a second.
The latter played with his drink, letting the amber liquid swirl in an
intricate play of light and glass. Finally he smiled a strange twisted
smile. "Fine. To heroes. And to their faithful companions." He
drained the glass in one gulp. "May God have mercy on them all."
***
"Do you think they're okay?"
Buffy Summers turned around, her eyes blank for a second. "What?"
Dawn patiently repeated her question. "Do you think they're okay, out
there?"
The Slayer turned back to look out the window into the quiet
California night. "I... Yes," she replied, her tone firm, the shudder
of the shoulders almost imperceptible and the eyes almost dry. "Yes."
Dawn Summers sighed and looked at the blonde women in the doorway.
Tara smiled at her tremulously and moved to softly cover Buffy in a
wool blanket. "Of course they are, Dawnie. They'll take care of each
other."
"And someday they'll be back." Buffy's remark sounded more like a
question than a statement as she turned toward Tara, her eyes
strangely vulnerable and defenseless. "Someday?"
"Of course." Tara smiled again, blinked any hint of tears from her
eyes, and beckoned Dawn over, spreading the coverlet over all three
of them as they stood by the window. "We'll wait for them."
***
And whatever the tall dark-haired man on the hill, half a world away
from Joe's bar, thought as he went through the motions of kata with a
broken sword, would remain forever unknown.
And whatever the strange Cajun thought, as he surprised the girl once
known as Pryde, was hidden very carefully behind the laughing red-on-
black eyes and perhaps unimportant in the face of the sudden,
completely unfeigned smile on her face.
And whatever other people like them - the Heroes and the Companions,
the Cynics and the Don Quixotes, the Villains and the Cast-Outs, the
Betrayers and the Betrayed, those that found the elusive peace and
those who still walked troubled in the night -- thought on that
Eve...
Well. That's a completely different story.
***
May all that wander find their way home.
Ro
Ro