Immortal Madonna

By Wesa

AU: Immortal Witches' Chronicles

Sequel to The Believing Kind

Crossover with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and X-Files

Category: Romance/Drama/Angst

Rating: R (adult heterosexual intimacy, language, violence, perceived threat to a child)

Warning! Spoilers for Claudia's trilogy The Immortal Curse. Read that first!

By Wesa.

Duncan MacLeod woke to the ringing of his telephone and groaned as he rolled over to reach for the bedside extension. Beside him, Amanda grumbled in her sleep and wrapped a pillow around her ears, even her vast reservoir of energy finally exhausted by their activities of the previous evening. Finally getting his fingers wrapped around the handset, he picked it up and grumbled, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Highlander," a familiar voice greeted him, "I need to borrow your cabin for a few months."

"Methos!" MacLeod protested. "It's four o'clock in the morning!"

"Do you think I don't bloody know what time it is?" Methos shouted at him. "I need the damn cabin, MacLeod!"

MacLeod frowned. "Methos? What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when I get there," promised the old man. "Meet you at Joe's in half an hour."

"Methos!" MacLeod shouted, but it was too late; the connection had been broken.

Amanda was thoroughly awake now, and curious. "What is it?" she asked.

"He sounded like he was scared," MacLeod murmured worriedly, "maybe even desperate. Something's seriously wrong." He got out of bed and reached for his clothes. "He said he'd be at Joe's in half an hour; are you coming?"

"Ohhhh..." Amanda whined unhappily. "MacLeod, he's 5000 years old. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself! He doesn't need you."

"No, he doesn't," MacLeod agreed, "and he didn't ask for my help. He wanted the cabin."

Amanda made a face. "The place on the island? Why would he want to go there? There're no shops or banks or anything. It's completely isolated."

"Maybe that's the point," MacLeod replied. He pulled on his boots and reached for the phone. "If you're coming, get dressed. I'm not going to wait for you." He pressed a speed-dial button as Amanda threw back the covers. "Joe, wake up," he grumbled. "I need to talk to you."

"He won't answer," Amanda muttered, fastening her lingerie. "Joe has better sense than to pick up a ringing telephone at four o'clock in the morning."

But a moment later Dawson's voice came over the line. "It's four a.m. in the fricking morning!" he snapped. "This better be good."

"I just got a call from Methos," the Highlander informed him. "He sounded desperate. Meet us at the bar in half an hour."

"What's going on?" Joe asked, his tone completely changed. He'd been friends with Adam Pierson long before he ever learned that Pierson was an Immortal, let alone the mythical Methos.

"I don't know, I didn't get any details from him," MacLeod told him. "Just meet us at the bar, Joe. Try to lose your watcher if she's around."

"Huh," Joe said. "Mac, that goes against the grain, and you know it."

"I don't care. You can tell her later, if you want to. You were a watcher; you know how it works. Just come alone."

"How it works is that she won't talk to me; she won't take my calls," Joe replied. "My own daughter, MacLeod! Those damned witches..."

"If it wasn't for the witches, we wouldn't be having this conversation because Methos would still be dead," MacLeod reminded him. "Look, they apologized. The old one, what was her name, Araminta. She said she was sorry, that she had no idea the spell would kill you, let alone make you one of us. The fact remains that Methos needs help. You used to count him as a friend, Joe. Are you coming?"

"I'll be there," came the reply.

MacLeod hung up the phone and turned to find Amanda fully dressed and repairing her makeup. "You look beautiful," he told her. "Let's go."

Despite the storm that was blowing in, they reached Joe's Bar within a minute of each other, but Methos was as yet nowhere to be seen. Dawson unlocked the front door and led the way inside the dark, smoky interior.

Amanda waved her hand in front of her face. "Aren't people ever going to learn?" she asked, wrinkling her nose, somehow still managing to be beautiful as she did.

"Never underestimate the tendency of the human race to commit mass suicide," Dawson told her.

She looked at him. "You know, you're awfully cynical and pessimistic for a fifty-year-old. You've been hanging out with Methos and MacLeod too much." She dropped her voice seductively and threaded her arm through his. "Now that your training is finished, why don't you and I go on a world tour?" she suggested, stroking the upper curve of his ear with one finger as she spoke. "It'll be fun. You can play your guitar at street festivals while I wander through the crowd."

"Picking the pockets of only the very richest, no doubt," Dawson said. "No thanks, Amanda. I'm still pretty new to this. Five or ten years in prison seems like a long time to me."

"Smart lad," MacLeod observed.

The screeching of tires outside caught their attention before a strong buzz alerted them to the proximity of another Immortal. A moment later the doors burst open and two people entered, along with a few windblown leaves. Methos turned to close and lock the doors behind them. The other -

The eyes of the three already inside the bar widened as they looked at Methos' companion. She was of average height, blonde and blue-eyed, and they had met her before, in Paris. She was a witch. There was blood on her dress, but that didn't concern them very much, because she was Immortal.

She was pregnant.

Three Immortal jaws hit the floor. They stared.

Wesa looked at them warily. "It's not what you think," she told them.

Dawson was the first to recover. "What?" he asked. "You're carrying a basketball under your dress?" It was an uncharacteristically sarcastic question, but he still held a grudge against the witches.

Wesa put a hand on her abdomen, her face crumpling. "I'm not that fat, am I?" she asked, her chin and lower lip quivering.

Methos pulled her close against him. "No, you're not," he assured her. "You're just right for five months."

He scowled over the top of her head at his friend.

"But I'm not five months yet!" Wesa objected.

"Shh," Methos soothed her. "I know you're tired. Be strong for a little longer." He guided her from the upper part of the floor just inside the door down the single step to the lower level near the bar itself, where the others stood, still staring. "Joe, do you have any - I don't know, milk or something?" he asked, pulling out a chair for the mother-to-be.

"I'm fine. Thanks anyway," Wesa murmured as she sat down, her eyes closed. She opened them a moment later, focussing on the Highlander, her wariness still reflecting its dark tones in the depths of her eyes. "My teacher used to ask if I was catching flies when I looked like that," she told him.

MacLeod picked up his teeth and closed his mouth. "But - But how?" he asked.

"Can we go into that later?" Methos asked. "I need to get her somewhere safe, first. Someone's trying to kill her."

"What?" Dawson asked, startled. "Who? Why? I mean, I have my reasons, but they're kind of unusual as motives go."

"Her name is Paili Bat-Gedeon," Methos replied. He leaned down and spread his hand gently and possessively over Wesa's abdomen. "All that can wait. I need to get her to holy ground."

"You think it's one of us?" Amanda asked in a hushed voice. "Why would any Immortal want to kill a woman who so obviously carries hope for all Immortals inside her?"

"Dammit, Amanda!" Wesa exclaimed. "Don't start! It's not like that!"

"Witchcraft?" MacLeod asked. "Is it a spell?"

"Only the one she cast over me during my Horseman days," Methos said sharply. "Can we focus here, people?"

"The cabin is yours for as long as you need it, of course," MacLeod said in a more nearly normal tone of voice. "What else can we do for you?"

"Pickles? Ice cream?" Dawson asked.

Wesa paled. "Restroom?" she asked in a strangled voice, stumbling to her feet.

Methos pointed, and she ran. The old man looked at Dawson. "Why did you have to say that, Joe?" he asked. "She's morning-sick all the time as it is." He sighed. "It plays hell with the sex life, let me tell you."

Amanda looked at him in amazement. "How can you even think about sex when she's - she's - "

"I think the word you're looking for is 'pregnant,'" Dawson said wryly.

"It's a miracle," MacLeod announced in a hushed voice, his accent breaking through in his stress.

"It's modern medical technology," Methos corrected, "and if she hears you talk about our baby in that tone of voice, she'll want me to kill you. I won't let her do it herself."

The other three stared at him. "'Our' baby?" Dawson repeated. "Methos ... Is there something you want to tell us?"

"Look, there is a rational explanation," Methos said, "and I'll give it to you when she's safe. MacLeod, first, I need to trade cars with you for a while. Be careful. Paili knows my SUV." He held out the keys to his Range Rover, and they traded. "Then will you get in touch with Dr. Ramsey and arrange for the use of medical facilities? Particularly an ultrasound machine. Wesa took a bullet through her abdomen last night, and I'd like to make sure the baby's still okay. And she needs immune-suppressant drugs to keep from miscarrying." MacLeod nodded and headed behind the bar to use the phone. "Amanda, shopping." He handed her a credit card. "We need food and supplies for the cabin. Maternity clothes for Wesa. Baby clothes and blankets. A cradle." He smiled at the expression in her wide brown eyes. "All right, get something nice for yourself, too."

"You're buying?" Dawson asked. "This is a miracle."

Methos turned to the former watcher. "Joe, I need you to use your contacts - and I know you still have some - to find the other witches, Ada-Lisa in particular. Araminta and Tsila, too. Ada-Lisa was in Washington DC yesterday, but I don't know if she still is." He paused as Wesa returned to the room, patting a damp paper towel across her forehead. "And check with your watcher to make sure Maggie Scully is okay. We had to leave abruptly, and Wesa's worried about her watcher. She likes her. Amy won't mind doing that."

"Maggie's a Caucasian woman in her late fifties, average height and weight with blue eyes and dark hair just starting to go gray," Wesa added worriedly. "If there's anything else I know that can help, just ask."

Methos cupped his hand around the back of her head, gently running his fingers down the side of her neck. "She'll be okay," he assured her.

She turned burning eyes up to meet his. "She's not an Immortal, Methos. If Paili kills her, she won't come back."

"Mortals die, Wesa," he told her. "I don't have to like it, and I don't, but I can't do anything about it. Our primary responsibility now is to the child in your womb." He looked around the group. "Our thanks to you all," he said. "We'll see you at the cabin." He took Wesa's hand, and they headed out the back door through the first drops of rain to MacLeod's T-Bird.

**********

Dr. Anne Ramsey looked at the expression on her former lover's face, feeling her own smile fade. "You aren't joking," she realized. "I thought you told me it was impossible."

"I did," MacLeod replied. "I have no idea how they did it. Adam said something about modern medical technology and immune suppressant drugs, but I don't know any specifics. But she got shot, and they want to be sure the baby isn't hurt. Will you help?"

Anne covered her mouth with one hand and looked out the window at the storm while she thought. "I can order the ultrasound," she murmured, "but there would have to be a technician to do the test, and to interpret the results you need a radiologist, who isn't going to know that the parents are Immortal - or that presumably the baby will be, too..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Duncan, I just don't know how the ultrasound is going to tell us anything." Her mouth quirked. "Except possibly the child's gender."

MacLeod opened his mouth to protest that the baby's sex wasn't important, but had two images flash in his mind in quick succession - Methos and his son going to Little League with a baseball and bat - Methos sitting on the floor with his hands outstretched as a baby in a frilly pink dress took her first steps toward him. Instead of protesting, MacLeod laughed softly.

"What?" Anne asked.

"Nothing. Just my imagination," he assured her. "What do you suggest, then?"

"We should run the tests," Anne replied. "It probably won't tell us anything, but we won't know if we don't run them. She obviously doesn't want to have a regular obstetrician, who would notice her rapid healing after childbirth." She frowned, thinking. "We'll have to do something about the birth. There are so many things that can go wrong. Your friend will survive, no matter what, but what about the baby? If it should die during the birth - "

"God help us," MacLeod murmured. "Anne, I don't think I could take the child's quickening and put him out of his misery. And Adam - " He shook his head. "This is his first child, Anne ... The first born to any of us. I don't know Wesa that well, but I think that kind of grief might drive Adam over the edge. He ... isn't a good person to have go over the edge." He looked at his friend. "Can we depend on you to be there for the birth? If she needs you, can you come? Or can we bring her to you?"

She shook her head. "Not at the hospital. There would be too many questions. But when it gets close to her time, I can take a couple of weeks off and go to her. We wouldn't have access to the hospital's equipment, but if anything went wrong, I could do an emergency C-section."

"I suspect you'll have all the equipment you need," MacLeod told her. "It's not like Adam doesn't have any money, and Wesa's friends will want her to have everything that might be necessary."

**********

"Amy, don't hang up," Dawson pleaded into the phone receiver. "It's about a watcher. I have information that Maggie Scully might have been hurt in an assassination attempt on Wesa Hill. Please check to be certain she's okay."

"I can't talk to you," Amy said bitterly. "But thanks." She hung up.

Dawson sighed, wondering if Amy would ever know that he really was her father, that his immortality was only the result of a miscalculation by a sisterhood of witches. It pained him deeply that she had rejected him so completely in favor of the organization he had brought her into. He sighed again and called Rupert for assistance locating Wesa's sisters.

He was just getting off the phone when he felt the approach of another Immortal, and Amanda and MacLeod came in out of the storm that had blown in that morning. "Anne said yes," MacLeod announced, shaking the rain out of his coat. "She'll meet us at the boat launch around noon."

Amanda nodded. "I have the old man's SUV loaded to the gills," she said with a grin.

MacLeod rolled his eyes. "I hope Methos is prepared for a shock when he sees the bill for letting Amanda go shopping with his card," he told Joe.

Amanda elbowed him in the ribs. "He told me to get something nice for myself," she pouted. She showed Dawson her new bracelet. "Isn't it great?"

"If he meant that the something should have diamonds," Dawson said as he came around the end of the bar, "I really have to get him to start paying his bar tab."

"Did you get hold of everyone?" MacLeod asked.

"I spoke to Assistant Director Skinner. He was cautious, but admitted that there is someone trying to murder his teacher," Dawson reported. "Methos must have driven all night to get here that fast. I told Amy about her Watcher. I think she'll check on her, but I don't suppose she'll get back to us. The witches..." He shrugged. "I don't know if the Watchers' council will be able to find them, but I asked."

MacLeod nodded. "Okay. Then I guess all that's left for the moment is to get out to the cabin and find out how -" His voice broke, and he tried again. "Find out what they did that the rest of us haven't been doing."

Dawson rolled his eyes. "I think I'll pass, if you don't mind," he said sourly.

MacLeod looked at him in astonishment, but Amanda took his arm gently. "I understand, Joe," she said softly. "You're so angry at the witches that you can't see how this could be a good thing. But think of it. If Immortals can have children, your daughter won't have any reason to be angry with you anymore. Well, she never did, but she doesn't know that."

Dawson snorted. "Great. A lie to correct a misunderstanding? Yeah, that'll work."

"All right," MacLeod told him. "You wait for Anne at the boat launch. Amanda and I will take her purchases over and find out as much as we can." He paused. "And Joe," he added.

"Yeah, MacLeod," Dawson grumbled.

"Remember Methos said that someone was trying to kill Wesa with a gun. That means they're not so much after her as the baby." MacLeod turned and strode out to the Range Rover.

Amanda hesitated. "Joe," she said softly. "Don't mess this up, okay? For me." She followed MacLeod while Dawson looked after her with a stunned expression.

**********

Wesa was napping when they reached the island, though of course the approach of Immortals woke her as they carried the first load of Amanda's purchases into the cabin. Amanda stayed with her then, both women giggling over tiny sleepers and miniature booties, while Methos and MacLeod returned to the mainland for a second load. The old man was uncommunicative, preferring to tell the story only once, but when Dawson arrived with Anne, the two ancient Immortals began to tell their story.

**********

Methos watched Wesa determinedly swallow pill after pill and wash them down with water. "You're going to float away," he warned her. "Why does Ada-Lisa need you to take so many pills?"

"Got to depress my immune system a bit," Wesa explained, "or my body will think the fetus is an invader and kill it."

"Kind of like a transplant patient," Skinner commented, digging a section out of his grapefruit half. "They have to take all kinds of drugs to keep their bodies from rejecting the new organs."

"You're still having to drink a lot of water. What happens if you have to pee in the middle of a challenge?" Methos asked. Skinner choked on his grapefruit, but Wesa chuckled, looking at him with her amusement written plain on her face. "You're really going to do this?"

She reached up to caress his cheek. "Cold feet?" she asked, drawing her thumb lightly across his lower lip.

He nodded, smiling wryly. "Don't mind me, I'm just nervous." He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders. "If you're ready, it's time for us to go. Ada-Lisa will be waiting."

**********

Maggie frowned in puzzlement. "What on Earth? Why are they going into a fertility clinic?"

Behind the steering wheel of the car they shared, Mulder chuckled. "Well, I think we can safely assume they're not looking to terminate a pregnancy," he told her.

She looked at him reprovingly. "Immortals are infertile, Fox. They can't have children. Besides, it's Friday night. The clinic's closed." She considered the ease with which Wesa, Skinner, and the unidentified Immortal had entered the building. "I wonder if the door was unlocked or something."

"That would suggest they were meeting someone inside," Mulder said. He reached into the back seat and brought his camera case into the front. He opened it and drew out a small video camera. "I'll try to get close enough to see what's going on," he said.

"Be careful," Maggie called softly after him, not liking him going, but knowing he was better equipped than she to surreptitiously obtain the information they sought. "The Watchers don't have any current records on Methos, even if we could confirm whether that's who he is. We don't know what he's like now, but we do know that historically he was a bloodthirsty murderer."

Mulder nodded, getting out and closing the door behind him with a gentle click! He jogged off through the falling twilight toward the clinic.

**********

Skinner liked the tall, copper-haired, Dr. Ada-Lisa Barbeau. A woman whose apparent age was around thirty, she was saved from intimidating beauty by a skiff of freckles across her straight nose and a scar that marred one eyebrow. She smiled and kissed Methos on the cheek, speaking to him softly in French, then greeted Skinner graciously. "You are my sister's new student, n'est-ce pas? Tres bien. Please come this way."

She led them to a waiting room with the obligatory naugahyde-covered chairs, then pointed to a doorway. "Through that door you will find small rooms which will allow you privacy. There are specimen bottles already in place. When you have finished, please place them into the recessed niche in the wall. Then you may return here, and Wesa will show you to my lab."

Both men hesitated. Methos gazed into Wesa's eyes and stroked her hair back from her face. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "This is what you want?"

"No, I want to do it in bed, not in a lab," she replied. "But if we could do it that way, the world would be hip deep in Immortals. It has to be this way, Methos."

"All right." He smiled and kissed her, then took Skinner's elbow and propelled him ahead of him through the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her. "We'll be back in a little while."

Later that night, the elder Immortals watched in fascination while Ada-Lisa extracted the genetic material from one of Methos' sperm, then injected the chromosomes into one of Wesa's eggs. After the delicate microscopic surgery, Ada-Lisa leaned back and sighed. "C'est fini," she told them. "Now we wait. You will come back tomorrow, yes? By evening we will know whether this experiment has a chance of working."

**********

Mulder and Maggie showed the videotape to the local director of the Watchers, Mario Quintana, who frowned worriedly. "I must congratulate you on your initiative in placing a listening device in Wesa's house, but this man certainly is not Methos," he told them. "His name is Adam Pierson, and he was a watcher himself - one of our researchers - until his death in a car accident in Paris five years ago. They must have discovered the bug and spun that tale, which seems to have been otherwise more or less true, to try to frighten you away. Pierson was in fact researching the scant information on Methos, so he would have had access to everything they needed to make the story convincing.

"Barbeau's watcher hasn't been able to access the medical records, so we aren't certain exactly what she's been doing, but the fact that she's doing it in a fertility clinic is disturbing," he continued. "I don't know what it will mean for the Watchers, but whatever it is, it's almost certainly going to upset a delicate balance among Immortals." He nodded. "Get back up there. Try to find out exactly what's going on, then report back as soon as possible."

**********

All four Immortals sat in Ada-Lisa's office Saturday evening, watching the monitor where the fertilized egg floated in a small dish of nutrient-rich liquid. Suddenly the cell seemed to convulse, and instead of one cell there were two. Ada-Lisa smiled. "Alors, ma soeur," she said to Wesa. "You are a mother!"

Wesa laughed and burst into tears. Methos grinned, then laughed and pulled her into his arms. They embraced and kissed for several minutes while Ada-Lisa watched, a pleased smile on her lips. Skinner turned away, not wanting to intrude, and found the doctor watching him, too. She tilted her head toward the door and they both went out, leaving the new parents some privacy.

"You are very young, n'est-ce pas? Not even fifty years old," Ada-Lisa asked as the two of them settled at opposite ends of a couch in the waiting room. "My sister tells me you led the Watchers back to her."

Skinner nodded. "I didn't do it on purpose," he told her. "I didn't know about them. I didn't know about Immortals. I didn't even know why I was getting this buzzing in my head. Turns out I was being stalked, at least part of the time. I killed him, but I didn't understand what was going on when the quickening happened. I met Wesa when I went to look for a former colleague of mine, and she took me as a student."

"You are fond of her, yes?" Ada-Lisa's slate blue eyes turned a steely grey as she continued, "Because she must not fight after I implant the embryo. We do not know what would happen, but I will not risk my sister's child to a quickening. And should you be one of those students who turns on the teacher, be aware that if Methos does not avenge her, I or one of our other sisters will. Of course, I would merely take your head. Tsila or the Boss would probably play with you awhile. Believe me, you would rather fight me. Tsila learned from the Nazis, the Boss learned from the Turks, and they both learned from Kronos and Caspian. Either of them would make you suffer before taking your head."

Skinner smiled at her. "It sounds as if there are people who care very much about Wesa, though perhaps some of them have some disturbing tendencies," he said. "But I don't understand... Wesa told me that all Immortals are foundlings. So how can you be sisters?"

Ada-Lisa's return smile was genuinely warm, and her eyes returned to their normal soft blue color. "We are not sisters in blood, of course," she explained. "We were all of us Healers in some form before our first deaths. We have learned much about the body and the way certain substances act upon it. And spells and charms, of course. They call it witchcraft. I call it natural medicine. It is much the same thing."

"You're not as old as the others?" he asked. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Wesa tells me that's an impolite question."

"Si-si." Ada-Lisa put out her hand and waggled it in the air. "With some more than with others. I do not mind telling you that I am not yet so old, only 87. My father had a vineyard and winery in Normandy. It was quite thoroughly destroyed in the fighting after the Allies stormed the beaches. Both my parents were killed, as was my fiancé. Tsila found me wandering the ruins of the family business looking for something - anything - which would explain why they had died and I had lived. Of course, I was not expecting her sort of answer."

**********

The technology for implanting the embryo into Wesa's womb was about as straightforward as it was possible to get. Ada-Lisa gave her enough anaesthetic to knock her cold, then quickly performed surgery, placing the tiny cluster of cells against the wall of her sister's womb and getting out before healing could begin.

Methos watched the whole procedure first-hand. When Wesa woke, he told her simply, "You're pregnant," and kissed her.

**********

"I went back three weeks later," Wesa said, "and all the tests were positive. It worked. Ada-Lisa was ecstatic. She actually twirled across the floor en pointe." She smiled at the memory. "Guess I'm not the only one who wants a baby."

"Nae, yer not," MacLeod assured her from where he leaned against the mantel, staring into the fireplace. Emotion thickened his brogue, and Wesa looked at him in surprise, then at Amanda, who simply gazed back with hope in her eyes and tears rolling down her cheeks.

Joe shook his head wonderingly. "Man, the Watchers are gonna to go nuts," he commented.

Anne frowned in puzzlement. "This happened in July?" she asked.

"Conception was on July 28," Methos told her, and drained his beer.

"So you're about - what? - twenty weeks?" she asked Wesa.

"Is something wrong?" Wesa asked worriedly.

"Mmm, nooo," Anne replied uncertainly. "Not that I can tell without an exam, anyway. I'd have guessed you were farther along than that, that's all. But I do want you to come in for an ultrasound. Monday, okay?"

Methos and Wesa looked at each other. "She'll be there," he told Anne.

"So what brought you here?" MacLeod asked, turning back to the group on the twin sofas.

Methos shrugged. "Skinner took his first head -"

"Second," Wesa corrected. "He took his first head before he even knew he was Immortal."

Joe snorted. "That must have been a surprise."

Methos raised his brows at Wesa. "Tradition demands you release him from training when he wins his first challenge," he pointed out.

She shrugged and nodded. "Right, the first time he takes a head after he begins training. I didn't even meet him until after he took Henstridge's head." She patted Methos' hand and continued, "Anyway, he wanted to stay in DC - no one at the FBI knows he's Immortal - and Methos was offered a teaching position at UC Sunnydale when one of their teachers disappeared. We don't know exactly when Paili managed to get hold of my Chronicle..."

**********

Infiltrating the Watchers hadn't been difficult; learning that the Watchers had discovered the witch's whereabouts had been a stroke of luck. Carefully reading the reports of the newly assigned Watcher revealed that the witch and her sister were up to something, and the involvement of the old Horseman was evidence that what they were doing was something unholy.

The Frenchwoman's records of her researches into Immortal infertility were frightening. A child? An Immortal child, the offspring of two ancient Immortals? How could Barbeau consider creating such an abomination? Paili Bat-Gedeon closed the filing cabinet with a solid thunk and turned off her flashlight. She would have to confront the young French doctor to learn whether the experiment had been successful. She had no particular dislike of the young red-haired Immortal, and in fact found her romance with the even younger FBI assistant director rather sweet, but she wouldn't let that stop her. She would do what she must. "For you, Iakovos," she whispered.

**********

When her father's friend Iakovos offered her one copper coin and a marriage contract, Paili was flattered, but not overjoyed. She was still pained by the sudden divorce from her first husband, who had been angry that she hadn't been able to give him a son, nor even a daughter, after six years of marriage. She stammeringly explained to Iakovos that she was barren, and asked him to reconsider.

"I have," Iakovos said gently, his deep voice soft with concern, "but I have met no other woman who pleases me so much."

"I know that I am not beautiful," Paili objected, "and I'm no longer young."

"You have the grace and strength of the gazelle," Iakovos disagreed. "You are as a spring lamb in the first days of summer. What care I that the summer is five days old instead of only three? Your father has already given his permission, Paili. Accept me as your husband and come to live in my house in Bethany."

His honey-brown eyes seemed to bore into her very soul. He found her attractive. He found her graceful. He considered her still young enough to marry at the ripe old age of twenty-three. He knew she was barren and wished to marry her anyway. "I accept you as my husband," Paili whispered. "I will be your wife."

Her father, a silk merchant, was about to set out on a journey to the East, through Persia and beyond, and would likely be away for many years. Paili's mother had died three years before, and she had no brothers or sisters. They set their wedding for midsummer, an unseemly rush that caused the neighbors to gossip, but the happy couple didn't care. Iakovos wanted his friend to attend the wedding; Paili wanted her father to be there. Gedeon Ben-Aaron wanted to see his daughter wedded to the one man he knew could take proper care of her.

Three weeks after the wedding, they said farewell. Then Gedeon Ben-Aaron mounted his strong three-year-old mare and turned her toward the line of camels, horses and donkeys starting the long, weary trek away from Jerusalem. "May the Horsemen ride far from your camp, my friend," Iakovos murmured.

That night, when they fell away from each other, still breathing heavily, Paili asked Iakovos what he had meant, and he told her the ancient tale of the Immortal Horsemen who attacked villages and caravans in the desert, stealing everything worth taking, killing the men and boys, raping the women before killing them, too, and taking the daughters away as slaves. Paili curled close to her new husband, shivering with fear. "I'm glad they're only legend," she said.

"They're not," Iakovos whispered. "I've seen Methos keeping company with the disciples of that wandering preacher everyone's so excited about. Some messiah is Yeshua Ben-Yosef... He doesn't even seem to realize the evil that follows him!" He held her close. "Paili, there's something I must tell you about myself. It may frighten you, but you need to know."

"What is it, my husband?" Paili asked worriedly.

"We have been blessed, you and I, with a great gift and a grave responsibility." He hesitated, reaching for something on the floor beside their bed. Paili waited; what Iakovos was trying to tell her was obviously difficult.

Moonlight from the window on the other side of the room glinted on something in his hand, something metallic - a knife! Paili gasped.

"Do not fear, Paili," Iakovos said. "I need to show you something." With that, he made a slice with the knife across his own palm.

The wound bled profusely, for it was very deep, and Paili whimpered softly. Then something happened that she would never forget as long as she lived. As she watched, a mist rose from the gash, covering and hiding it. When it dissipated, the wound was gone. Iakovos wiped away the remaining blood and showed her his hand again. "I'm Immortal," he said. "So are you."

**********

"Wesa?" Professor Adam Pierson looked at the slender young woman standing just inside the doorway of his classroom, watching his students leave. "What's wrong?"

"Walter just called. Ada-Lisa's gone," Wesa told him worriedly. "He's worried. She didn't call to tell either of us she was moving on. She seemed happy; she and Walter were dating."

"Maybe they had a fight," he suggested, gathering up his teaching materials. "I have one more class tonight; do you want to hang around? We can walk home together."

"Are you asking me to sit in?" she asked with a faint smile.

"As long as you don't start asking uncomfortable questions," he laughed softly. "I have enough trouble sticking to the 'known facts' as it is."

"I ... better wait for you outside, then," she said as they exited the classroom.

He shook his head. "I'd rather you waited inside. There have been some weird things happening around campus at night." He touched her chin as they paused by a row of chairs outside another classroom. "You've got some precious cargo on board now."

She chuckled. "I can take care of myself, Adam."

"If you die - even temporarily -" he asked in Greek, "what happens to the baby?"

"Oh," she said. "Right. Got something I can read while I wait?"

A little over an hour later, Methos took an unexpected left turn, leaving Wesa standing on the sidewalk looking after him in the dark. He turned back. "It's a short-cut," he explained as if she should have expected it. "You can't be afraid of cemeteries; they're holy ground."

She followed him through the cemetery entrance, giving him a look that suggested great patience. "It's just that nice, normal couples don't hang out in cemeteries." A sound behind them caught their attention, and they watched as a couple of students from the college also came through the entrance, laughing together intimately. "Well, most places they don't," Wesa amended. "I'm still worried about Ada-Lisa. Walter didn't say anything about any argument."

Methos shook his head. "She's eighty-seven years old and a witch," he said. "She can probably take care of herself against most anything." He paused. "Skinner wouldn't have challenged her, would he? Might he have beat her?"

Wesa closed her eyes in pain at the thought. "I don't know," she said. "He learned awfully fast, and they've been practicing together. Gods, I hope he didn't. I don't think I can kill another one of my students, Methos."

He shifted the load of books he was carrying and put his arm around her shoulders. "Not right now, anyway," he told her. "There's no telling what would happen to the baby if you took a quickening." He frowned at the bleached blond man in black clothing who exited a crypt ahead on their right and strode off into the darkness. "Can't be...That guy looks like William the Bloody. He disappeared a hundred-odd years ago. He wasn't an Immortal."

Wesa shrugged. "Can't be him, then. You're right. Who's William the Bloody?"

Methos smiled. "He was a very serious young man in love with a woman who didn't love him. He wrote her poems."

"Oh, that's sweet. But why 'the Bloody?'"

"His poems were bloody awful." Methos thought a moment, then turned and started declaiming for Wesa's benefit as they walked.

On the far side of the cemetery, the man with the near-white hair would have blanched had he still had the ability to do so. The young blonde woman who had been speaking to him propped her hands on her hips, annoyed. "Spike?" she called softly, dangerously. "Spike! Try to pay attention here. If you're going to come on patrol with me, I need to know you have your mind on it." She looked over at the couple approaching, and rolled her eyes. "Why is she laughing? That's the worst poetry I ever heard."

"It's not that bad!" Spike objected. "I mean, yeah, it's amateurish and all that, but the sentiments are..."

"Overstated?" she suggested. "Goofy? Syrupy?" She frowned up at him. "What's wrong?"

"No time," Spike said, slipping an arm around her middle and picking her up. He ignored her protests as he headed for the bushes by the nearest gate. "Be quiet," he hissed into her ear.

As Methos and Wesa passed out of the cemetery, he told her, "So that's why we called him William the Bloody."

Wesa laughed softly. "He did kind of massacre the form, didn't he?" Their voices faded as they turned and walked down the sidewalk.

"I know that guy," Spike murmured, puzzled. "But how -? He's not a vamp."

"And he seems to know you," Buffy said. "That's Adam Pierson, the new history professor at the University. I was going to take one of his classes if I could scrape together the money to go back to school next term. Where do you know him from?"

"From a hundred and eight years ago," Spike replied. "He was calling himself Dr. Pierce Adams then. He taught literature."

Buffy looked at him, her large eyes round. "He can't be a vampire; he has daytime classes," she objected.

"Maybe some kind of demon?" Spike wondered. "You go ask Library Boy. I'm gonna follow him, see what I can find out about him."

"His name is Giles," Buffy chided him. "Yeah, we need someone who can find out who and what he really is, but I should be the one who follows him. I mean, what if he was to hurt that girl? If he's human, you couldn't even defend her."

Spike shrugged. "If he's human, she shouldn't need defending."

**********

"So we were both following them when suddenly they stopped and looked around like they'd heard something," Spike told their audience, "and then this git steps out of the fog, says something like 'There can be only one,' or some such nonsense, and goes after Pierson with a sword!"

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed. "Oh, poor Professor Pierson. Is he all right?"

"Professor Pierson didn't seem really inclined to fight," Buffy began.

"I should think not, if the other man had a sword," Giles said mildly.

"Strangely enough," Buffy replied, "Pierson had a sword of his own. He dropped his books and pulled it out of his coat somewhere. And the two of them go at it, clang - clang - clang! Like fencing, you know, only they were dead serious about it. Pierson got a couple of really bad cuts, but then he caught the other guy's sword against his crossguard and yanked it away from him. He tossed the other guy's sword away, then kind of, like, continued the movement, swinging around. He beheaded him, Giles."

"I see," Giles murmured distractedly. "Dusted him, did he?"

"This guy wasn't a vamp," Buffy disagreed firmly.

"Tell him about the light show," Spike urged.

"Oh, yeah! There was this huge explosion of short-circuits, or static electricity, or lightning, or something," Buffy said excitedly. "It must have lasted at least a couple of minutes. And it all grounded out on Pierson."

Spike chuckled nastily. "Actually sounded like he was having a good time, if you get my drift."

"It's never too difficult to get your drift, Spike," Willow told him.

"But he's right, Giles," Buffy said. "It looked like it was really painful, and he moaned a lot, but he definitely sounded like he was enjoying it."

"And the chick that was with him?" Spike interrupted. "When it was all over, she goes to him and hands him the books that he dropped when he was attacked, and he asks her if she's all right!" He shook his head. "Like what just happened to him was an everyday thing."

"Maybe for him, it was," Giles mused absently. "He didn't do anything actually demonic?"

"Well, no," Buffy admitted, "just creepy, cutting the other guy's head off and all. The only demonic thing was that he absorbed all that power, but that was more done to him than anything."

"And he enjoyed absorbing the power, you say..." Giles frowned faintly. "It almost sounds like some variety of soul-eater. Anya, do you mind closing up the store by yourself? Willow, if you wouldn't mind helping with the research?"

"What about me?" Xander asked.

**********

Methos poured a cup of coffee and stood looking out the front window as he drank it. "There's someone watching the house - not Jean-Claude, and definitely not Mrs. Scully," he told Wesa. "Think the Watchers have found us?"

"Maybe," she replied, looking up from her laptop. "Kané says hi. She hasn't heard from Ada-Lisa, either. This is bad, Methos. Why would she just leave like that?"

He shook his head. "Maybe she didn't, Wesa. There are those out there who stalk you just because you're witches. Ada-Lisa might have lost a challenge. You've lost some of your sisters before."

Wesa was silent, not wanting to admit that she might have lost another of her dearest friends. The last time had been over two centuries before, during the French Revolution. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered Kameko's screams of terror when they came for her, tearing the eternal ten-year-old from Wesa's arms while Kanetsidohi and Tsila raged helplessly in the cell across the filthy dungeon corridor. After only thirty years they had lost their favorite little sister, the Japanese child who had died too young to be able to defend herself.

"Wesa?" Methos asked softly.

"Kameko," she explained. "I've never found her, Methos. I don't know who holds her quickening."

"Kané never told you?" he asked. He put his coffee on the table and sat on the arm of her chair, stroking her hair gently. "I have her. The execution committee mercifully decided that after being struck by what they thought was lightning, I had survived enough for one day, and put off my execution."

"And Phillipe Rousseau broke us out the following day," Wesa remembered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "Kané said she would, as soon as she was sure you wouldn't take my head to get Kameko back. With that threat hanging over me, I wasn't likely to speak too soon. But I thought she would have told you by now."

Wesa looked up at him sorrowfully. "I have Sitara's quickening, and Tahirah, and Kachina ... Kané doesn't think I do it on purpose, does she?" she asked. "I don't want my sisters' quickenings, Methos. I only want those who killed them to pay for their crimes. You were never in danger from me, not for holding Kameko for us."

"I think she was worried that you weren't in full control of your anger," he soothed. "By the time we got far enough away and you had calmed down a bit, it probably slipped her mind, or maybe she thought someone else had told you. I'm sure she doesn't think you go after your sisters' quickenings deliberately." He paused. "When Cassandra killed me, were you going to come after her?"

Wesa lowered her eyes, unaccountably ashamed. "Cassandra was still our sister, albeit estranged," she murmured, "and she challenged you legitimately, even though you were drunk. With you dead, though, she no longer had purpose in her life. It wouldn't have been long before someone took her head. And I would have insisted on being the one to avenge her, Methos," she added, looking up to meet his gaze. "Because I need you in my world, one way or the other."

He regarded her with a faintly worried expression. "Wesa, you wouldn't challenge someone you couldn't beat, would you?"

"I'd find a way to beat him, or I'd lose. Either way, we'd be together."

"I find I prefer corporeal togetherness," he said softly.

Wesa grinned up at him. "You mean you like fucking."

"Difficult to do that without bodies," he pointed out cheerfully.

"True," she agreed. "So hang onto your head. I like it best attached to your shoulders."

**********

After Methos left for his first class of the day, Wesa considered her supplies thoughtfully. The finding spell she had in mind didn't absolutely require a possession of the person sought, but without it, she would need cinquefoil, aconite, and - since she meant the findee no harm, far from it - water from a holy spring. She had none of these things, though she did have the beeswax candles and heartsease.

She'd seen a magic shop in town, and was fairly certain she could get what she needed there, but what would working a spell do to her baby? Well, buying the supplies wouldn't cause any harm to her child, and maybe the proprietor would know of a practicing witch in the area who would be competent enough to perform the spell for her. Besides, she needed to refill the prescriptions for immune-suppressant and anti-nausea drugs that Ada-Lisa had written for her. She located her shoes, made certain she had a short sword in her jacket, and picked up her wallet and keys on the way out the door.

**********

The young blonde who took her money seemed a little dubious about the combination of herbs and holy water that Wesa wanted to buy. "What do you want them for?" she asked bluntly. "For a love spell, you'll need mandrake and an azurite crystal, too."

Wesa raised her brows, laughing softly. "Yeah, if I wanted to get raped," she retorted. She eyed the girl calculatingly. "You seem to know a little about the art," she said. "Are you a practicing witch?"

"Me? No!" The girl seemed to back away from the question, in a hurry to distance herself. "I mean, I can do really simple spells."

"Too bad. Do you know any competent witches?" Wesa gestured to her intended purchases. "It's for a finding spell. One of my friends is missing."

She looked at the pill bottles plainly visible in Wesa's pharmacy bag. "If you have health problems, you probably shouldn't be doing magic."

Wesa raised her brows in surprise; the girl actually knew something about the art! Her eyes followed the meaningful look she cast at her medicines. "Oh, those. I have no health problems, aside from morning-sickness," she assured her with a wry smile. "Most of those are for my baby - to keep me from miscarrying. But for the same reason, I don't want to risk actually casting the spell myself. Do you know a competent witch who would be willing to help me out? Compensation is negotiable, if that's a factor."

The blonde's eyes brightened. "I do know a couple of witches..." She turned toward the back of the shop. "Willow? Do you have a minute?"

Wesa resisted rolling her eyes. Willow? Could she possibly have chosen a triter pseudonym?

The redhead sitting at the table in the reading area looked up from the books she was scouring through, a frown marring her pretty face. A second blonde and the middle-aged man on either side of her glanced up, too, then away. But as Willow rose, this second blonde did a double take, then caught at the redhead's arm, saying something in a low voice.

"That's her," Buffy murmured. "That's the girl who was with Professor Pierson when he killed that other guy."

Willow looked from Buffy to Wesa and back. "What should I do?"

"First, find out who she is and what she wants," Giles suggested. "Then we figure it out from there."

"All right." Willow stepped away from the table. "This is me, finding out."

When Wesa had explained what she needed help with, and why, Willow smiled. "It's smart not to risk your baby," she said. "Magic can have powerful effects, not all of them exactly what was intended."

Wesa agreed, nodding. "But I don't feel like waiting another six months to find Ada-Lisa. She may be perfectly okay, but I need to know."

The second blonde - Willow called her Buffy; maybe their parents really were Yuppies. Buffy wondered, "Do you have any particular reason to think she might be in danger?"

Wesa shook her head. "No more than usual: she's a doctor in a clinic where abortions are sometimes performed. She's done them herself when the mother's life was in danger. But aside from Walter calling me to ask if I knew where she was, no, there's no particular reason. I just can't seem to find her."

"Did you try the police?" asked Mr. Giles, the shopowner.

"Walter's with the FBI," Wesa replied dryly. While she approved of their caution - magic was not to be used lightly - she was beginning to wonder just why she deserved the third degree. It was a very simple spell.

"Cool!" Willow exclaimed, grinning. "A witch with a contact in the FBI. Who knew?"

Wesa snickered. "Trust me, if Walter's associates knew one of his friends was a witch, let alone that he'd been dating one, they'd never let him live it down.

"So what do you think, Willow? Can you help me?"

Willow looked at her regretfully. "I got a little out of control a while back. I promised Tara I wouldn't." She hesitated a split-second. "But it's a simple enough spell. Tara's more than capable, and she likes to help. I'll call her. Can you wait?"

Wesa looked around for a clock. "Adam doesn't have any late classes tonight. He'll be home before dark," she said.

"Your husband?" Giles asked casually.

"Not likely," Wesa chuckled. "That man is so commitment-shy it's a wonder he signed a contract with the university. He worries about the baby, not me." She paused. "So when can I meet Tara?"

***********

The young man who had followed Methos to his classes that morning had sat in on the first one, falling asleep in the back row, much to the Professor's irritation and the mirth of his students, who naturally assumed he was one of them. He hadn't sat in on the other two classes, for which Methos was grateful, but he was still behind him as the Immortal returned to the house he shared with the mother of his child.

Methos smiled to himself. The thought of the miracle growing in Wesa's belly gave him a warmth in his gut and a constriction in his chest that he couldn't remember ever feeling before. It wasn't that he was new to fatherhood; he'd raised many children over the last 50 centuries. But for the first time, the child was his as well as the mother's, and each time he realized that anew, an intense wave of happiness washed over him.

He hadn't forgotten the man following him, and he knew the kid wasn't a Watcher - he'd managed to see there was no tattoo. But there had been no overt threat, and Methos knew there was a cold beer waiting for him. He started to whistle softly as he turned the last corner, but was interrupted by the ringing of the cell phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered, "Pierson."

"Hey, Adam," Wesa's voice greeted him.

"I'm almost home," he told her.

"I'm not. I'm at The Magic Box."

Cold fear gripped Methos' heart and he came to a sudden stop. "You're not - You wouldn't -"

"No. Calm down, 'Daddy,'" Wesa teased softly. "I'm trying to find a witch to cast the spell for me. But I knew you'd worry if I wasn't home when you got there. Do you still have company?"

She wasn't alone; she trusted whoever it was enough to cast a spell for her, but not enough to let them know that there was someone following her lover. Methos didn't like it. "Yes, he's been with me all day. Fell asleep during my lecture on the arrival and presence of Celtic warriors in ancient Turkey. He snores." He continued on toward the house, no longer so interested in the beer that waited in the refrigerator.

"I found a highly talented witch," Wesa said. "But she made a promise not to use magic. Seems she got out of control a while back and people got hurt. But she's called one of her friends to cast my spell for me. I'll probably be another hour or so. Do you want to cook, or meet me here and we'll go out for dinner?"

There was no question. "I'll be there in ten minutes," Methos promised as he unlocked the front door and went in.

**********

Wesa hung up the phone and turned, a little smile playing across her lips. She met Willow's questioning gaze and shrugged. "He knows I can take care of myself, but he worries about the baby," she explained again. "He'll be here in a few minutes."

Willow seemed about to reply, but the bell over the shop door jingled, and she turned to face the newcomer, her eyes brightening when she saw the young woman who entered. "Tara!" She went to greet her, and the two women kissed gently. Then Willow turned. "Tara, this is Wesa. She's a witch, too."

Wesa smiled; though she was surprised that they were so open about their relationship, she was glad they were happy together. "Hello, Tara," she said.

"Hi," Tara said shyly. "You're a witch? Then what do you need my help for?"

**********

Xander started nervously when Spike materialized out of the dusky twilight. "He's in the house?" the bleached-blond vampire asked.

The door opened as he spoke, and Pierson came out, dressed all in black, as usual, and wearing the long black coat he favored. "Not anymore," Xander replied as the two of them followed.

Pierson walked purposefully through the neighborhood toward town as if blissfully unaware of the two men behind him, but he knew they were there. There were other things around, too, unclean things, moving through the gardens, through the shadows, keeping pace, hunting him and those who watched him. Idly he hoped Jean-Claude hadn't located him yet. Whatever it was in the shadows would have had the Frenchman by now.

The attack, when it came, was sudden, savage, and vicious. There were three of them, and Methos was barely able to get his sword out to defend himself before they were upon him. Then he saw their faces, and he knew. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, decapitating the first one. As the vampire dissolved into a cloud of dust, the other two grabbed him. They were insanely strong, and wrested his sword away from him, sinking their fangs into his throat from either side as they bore him to the ground.

"Shit!" Xander exclaimed, starting forward.

"Get away from him!" Spike demanded.

Both vamps looked up, snarling, blood running down their chins. "Too late, Spike," one of them laughed nastily. "We got one of your pet humans, and he was gooood!" They both licked their lips, then scrambled away when Spike snatched up the discarded sword and threatened them with it.

Xander crouched to check Pierson's pulse, then looked up at Spike, shaking his head. "He's dead. I guess we won't get a chance to find out exactly what he is, after all."

"Guess not. I'd still like to know how he could have been the same bloke I met over a century ago."

"Buffy's gonna be pissed."

"Yeah." Spike sighed. "One of us is gonna have to tell her. You do it. She won't kill you."

Xander shrugged. "She won't kill you, either. You're already dead."

"Oh, get over yourself, Harris. At least I have better taste than to get involved with a vengeance demon!"

"Former vengeance demon," Xander corrected. "It's an important distinction." He sighed. "What do we do? Leave him here?"

Spike shrugged. "Don't think he's goin' anywhere." He looked at the sword in his hand. "Guess we better take the sword, though. Don't want any baddies taking possession of it tonight, or any kids stumbling over it tomorrow."

"I'll carry it," Xander said, reaching out his hand.

"D'you know how to use it? I don't think so, mate!" Spike pulled back, avoiding Xander's grasp. "I'll give it to you just before we go into the shop. Don't want Buffy thinking I've been using it." The two men walked off, still arguing.

**********

Wesa looked worriedly at the clock. Methos had promised to arrive at the shop twenty minutes earlier. Could he have encountered another Immortal on his way over? It wasn't unreasonable for a challenge to take an hour or more, but how would they explain his tardiness? She returned her attention to the spell Tara was working for her, never considering that Methos might lose such a challenge.

When Tara finished the spell, Wesa first frowned, then breathed a sigh of relief. No luck was better luck than it might seem at first; that spell should have found Ada-Lisa's body, even if she were dead. No luck meant she was able to cast a cloaking spell - though now Wesa wondered why her sister was hiding, and from whom.

As she thanked Tara for her assistance, Wesa heard the front bell jangle once more as it had when Tara came in, and she turned to greet Methos as he finally arrived. "Adam! She's alive..." Wesa's voice trailed off as she saw the two men who entered. One was the bleached blond that Methos had said reminded him of William the Bloody. The other was the dark-haired young man who had been following Professor Pierson. He held Methos' Ivanhoe, handing it to Mr. Giles as he came through the shop.

Wesa felt the blood drain from her face; she got lightheaded, an experience that had been new to her when she became pregnant. Methos would not allow anyone to take his sword, not if he still lived. "Where did you get that?" she asked hoarsely.

"Huh?" Xander didn't have any idea who she was. "It's just a ceremonial blade," he tried to assure her.

"Where did you find that sword?" Wesa demanded. She didn't realize she had crossed the room, or that she had drawn her gladius until she held the short sword to Xander's throat. "You were following him! Did you kill him?"

"N-n-no!" Xander stammered, amazed when the angry woman immediately lowered the sword and broke down, sobbing.

"Who killed him?" she asked tearfully, hiding the short sword inside her jacket once more. "Did you see who took his quickening?" She grabbed Xander's shirt in both hands when he didn't respond immediately. "I have to know!" she exclaimed impatiently.

"Wh-what's a quickening?"

"You were following him," Wesa said in disbelief. "It would have blown the place apart. You can't have missed it! You call yourself a Watcher?"

"Me? No, I'm not a Watcher," Xander protested. He gestured toward Giles who stood with Buffy, watching in shock. "He is."

**********

Methos woke with a deep, wrenching gasp that hurt all the way to the bottom of his lungs. By the gods, he hated vampires. So far as he knew, they couldn't actually harm an Immortal - or they couldn't until Wesa had managed to become pregnant. But if they attacked her now, the baby ... He caught his breath at the threat to his child, and scrambled to his feet, searching for his sword.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed under his breath, unable to find the blade he had carried for nearly eight centuries. "Fucking vampires! In America! Bloody hell!" He started again toward The Magic Box. Sword or no sword, he had to protect his child and the woman who carried him.

As he approached the store, he saw Wesa's Watcher sitting in a car outside. Maggie was so focused on the shop that Methos was able to walk up beside her window without being noticed. He thrust his house keys through the car window at her. "Wait for us at the house," he instructed. "It's too dangerous out here for you."

"I can't -" Maggie began to protest.

"You can and you will, or you'll die," Methos said harshly. "Look, I was a Watcher for ten years, myself. I know it's irregular, but Wesa likes you. You're unobtrusive. You allow us privacy. If Jean-Claude is here, tell him to meet us there, too. Cook or order in, but don't let anyone else into the house. We'll be home soon. The four of us need to have a little conference." He patted his hand on the roof of the car a couple of times, then straightened up and crossed the street to the shop where he hoped Wesa still waited.

He relaxed a little when he felt her presence just before he walked in, but he never expected to come face to face with William the Bloody. The young man's once healthy coloring was now deathly pale. Methos stared. "Oh, crap," he said in a low voice.

"Adam," Wesa greeted him happily. "You're okay. I was worried." She picked up the Ivanhoe and started toward him, but a tiny blonde blocked her way.

"Stay back, Wesa," Buffy warned. "He could be dangerous."

"Me?" Methos asked in offended astonishment. "What about him?" He gestured to the vampire.

"Who, Spike?" she asked, waving off the suggestion. "He's been ... neutered."

"Hey!" Spike objected. Behind the cash register, Anya snickered while she sorted through the day's receipts.

Methos looked at him. "My sympathies."

"Adam would never hurt me," Wesa said softly, pushing past Buffy insistently. "When they brought in your sword, I thought you were dead," she told him as she placed the hilt of the Ivanhoe in his hand and stretched up to kiss him.

"He was," Xander said, looking at the Professor suspiciously from his position just inside the door. "They attacked him, he dusted one, the other two sucked him dry. He didn't have a pulse. I checked."

"'Dusted one?'" Wesa repeated.

"Vampires," Methos told her. "It explains a lot."

"But not the light show last night," Spike said.

"Nor how you rose from the dead," Xander added.

"I'm an idiot!" Giles exclaimed suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. "He's an Immortal," he explained.

"Immortal!" Willow repeated. She moved so that she stood protectively between the strange man whose child her new friend was carrying and the table where Tara gathered up the ingredients for the spell she had cast. "You mean like...like a god?" Wesa snickered and Methos shot her a quelling glance. Wesa appeared to have no intention of being quelled, and he rolled his eyes, then smiled down at her.

"Not precisely, no," Giles clarified. He removed his glasses and stood in the middle of the shop cleaning them with a white handkerchief. "Immortals are as human as we are. It's just extraordinarily difficult to make them stay dead. I should have realized it when Buffy and Spike told me about the swordfight and the quickening last night." He rubbed his brow and looked apologetically at Methos. "I thought you were some kind of soul-eating demon."

"I've been called worse," Methos allowed. "But if you're a Watcher, why would you need to be reminded? - Oh, speaking of Watchers, Wesa, I've sent Maggie over to the house. I didn't think you'd want her to be out there alone, not with vampires in the area, and I know there are at least three."

"Who's Maggie?" Anya asked, coming out from behind the cash register.

"My Watcher," Wesa replied. "She's nice. I like her a lot better than the last one."

"Wait - You're a Slayer?" Xander asked in confusion.

Wesa hesitated. "Well, sometimes it has to be done. But I haven't killed anyone in months. Honest."

"You're an Immortal, too?" Giles asked. "Yes, of course you are, or you would be unlikely to carry a sword." He frowned. "Wait...I thought you said you were pregnant?"

Wesa smiled shyly and moved closer against Methos' side. "Yes."

"But - But Immortals are infertile."

She shook her head, a sorrowful faraway expression in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "It's the immune system. Our bodies destroy our children almost before they're conceived. That's why I'm taking immune-suppressant drugs."

"So what you're saying," Spike said slowly, "is that vampires can't kill them?" He smiled, his eyes brightened, and his visage changed, becoming dark, threatening, and bumpy. "This is a good thing; I'm hungry."

Methos shoved Wesa behind him, sending her stumbling against the counter, and his sword flashed out. But not in time. Spike got in under the sword, going for his throat.

Three things happened at once: Buffy shouted, "Spike!" and leaped to pull him off the man she knew as Professor Pierson.

Wesa screamed, "Methos!" causing Giles to stare at them, his lips moving as if repeating the name.

And Spike cried out in pain, clutching his head and turning away as his face returned to normal. "Bloody chip!" he complained.

Methos scowled at the pain-lanced vampire, breathing hard while his fear dissipated and was replaced by anger. Then he moved, raising his sword with the obvious intent of killing his attacker.

"Wait!" Willow moved between them holding one hand out to stop him.

"No, let him dust him," Buffy disagreed.

"He can't hurt you," Willow told Methos urgently. "He can't hurt anybody. And he helps us sometimes."

"Helps you how?" Methos asked. "You can't trust him. He'll kill you all for the joy of it."

"He can't," Willow repeated.

"We know he'd like to," Xander admitted reluctantly, "but Spike has a chip implanted in his head. He can't hurt any human - which I guess lets you off the hook."

Buffy sighed. "You're right. Spike loves to kill. But now the only things he can kill are demons and other vampires. So I let him patrol with me."

Methos stared at her. "You?" he asked. "You're the Slayer?" He considered her slight form and started to chuckle. "Well, I can see how they'd underestimate you." He turned back to Wesa. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You didn't fall or anything?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "The baby's fine." She smiled up at him, then turned to Buffy and Xander. "I'd like to know more about this chip."

"Trade?" Giles suggested. "I'd like to know more about Immortals."

Methos and Wesa exchanged glances. "Uh, well, maybe not," Wesa hedged.

"We would hold it in confidence," Giles offered. "There would be no need to tell the Watchers."

"Another time, perhaps," Methos replied. "Wesa, Maggie doesn't know about the vampires. I told her to go to the house, but - "

Wesa nodded. "We'd better go," she agreed. "Tara, thank you again." Both Immortals put their swords inside their coats and left the shop.

"You're just going to let them leave?" Xander asked Buffy and Giles, gesturing toward the door as he moved away from it, back to the table where they always seemed to congregate.

"They seem harmless enough," Buffy said. "You said yourself that Adam dusted one of the vampires who attacked him. And even when he killed that other guy, it was in self-defense." She hesitated, a brief expression of doubt crossing her face. "Or maybe not, if he's immortal."

"I liked them," Willow announced, turning back to the group after locking the front door. "What do you think, Giles?"

The shopowner was already in the back of the store, looking frantically through his books, muttering, "Methos...Methos. Now where did I see that name?"

**********

Shading her eyes from the slanting rays of the morning sun, Wesa chuckled as she watched Maggie carry the last of her bags into the house across the street. "I feel like some kind of traitor, offering to help her watch me so that she doesn't have to be out at night."

"I think she understands that it's a temporary arrangement, just while we're in Sunnydale," Methos said, stretching. "She believed me about the vampires more easily than I thought she would." He scowled. "I wish Jean-Claude had been willing to meet with us."

"Her daughter worked with Mulder for six years," Wesa said. When Methos didn't respond, she turned to look and found him gazing up at her with his head cocked to one side. "Mulder's the believing kind," she explained. "Maggie's probably already seen things she can't explain - though I'll bet Mulder tried," she added with a grin.

Shaking his head, Methos muttered, "I've got to meet this guy."

"He's a Watcher now," Wesa reminded him.

"So? I used to be a Watcher, too," he retorted.

"Yeah, yeah." She moved behind his chair and put her arms around him, running her hands down his chest and pressing her cheek against his, then turning her head to nibble at his ear. "You were a cute Watcher."

He smiled. "Cuter than Mulder?"

Wesa laughed as Methos turned and caught her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. "Much cuter," she agreed, putting her arms around his neck. She kissed his nose, then his eyebrows, feeling his hand curve over her just-beginning-to-swell abdomen. "Want to go back to bed?" she asked, and kissed him on the mouth.

Methos lingered over her lips, deliberately making sure Wesa was very horny before he broke the kiss and drew back. "I wish I had time," he said.

"Huh?" Wesa didn't understand, her mind fuzzy with desire.

"I have office hours this morning," he explained. "Otherwise I'd blow it off and remind you what it's like to ride a Horseman." He grinned when she giggled at his little joke and laid her forehead against his. They sat like that for another few moments before Methos sighed and lifted Wesa off his lap. "Hold that thought," he said as he set her on her feet. "And try not to have any company when I get home."

**********

"I think I found something," Dawn announced late that afternoon, flushing with pride in her success. She was irritated at having missed the excitement the night before, but being the first to find a reference in one of Giles' books kind of made up for it.

Her sister's friends all smiled at her, but Buffy rolled her eyes. "Dawn, you just got here. You don't have to find something right away."

"I know, but I think I really did," Dawn insisted.

"Let me see," Tara said, leaning over. "What book have you got, Dawnie?" She read the title, then looked at the teenager with a nod. "Read it," she encouraged.

Dawn nodded, flushing again. "'They were monsters. Coming out of the sun, they rode across the world, bringing terror, and death at the point of a sword. Neither our weapons nor our gods could protect us against them. Where they were, life ceased. They were without mercy. They were without fear. And their names were Kronos, Silas, Caspian, and Methos; War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Their coming is the end of the world.'"

"Again with the end of the world?" Xander complained, coming through the door after getting off work. He greeted Anya with a kiss, then locked the door and turned the Closed sign to face outward before the two of them joined the others around the tableful of books. "Dawn, did you find the answer and get me out of doing research?"

"It's a translation of a 2500 year old Persian text," Giles said with a frown, looking at the book Dawn had read from. "It isn't the text I was looking for; the one I remember said something about the world's oldest man. I wonder if he can be the same one?"

"I don't see why not, if he's Immortal," Willow said.

"Do you think Wesa knows?" Tara asked in a hushed voice. "Maybe we should warn her."

"And she's carrying his baby," Anya said. "Can this be a good thing?"

"I think you're all forgetting something," Buffy said. "Spike couldn't hurt him. He is therefore human, no matter if he's Immortal, or evil, or even one of these Horsemen. And the world pretty obviously didn't end when that was written. Besides, he's only one. And we don't know how to kill him, even if he really was dangerous. At least, not and make him stay dead."

"I do," Giles said absently. "So do you, if you'd think about it."

Buffy fell silent, frowning. "The man he killed the first night we saw him?"

"Was also an Immortal, yes," Giles agreed. "So if you need to kill him, you'll have to behead him."

Still frowning, Buffy shook her head. "Giles, when he killed that other guy, all that lightning hit him. I don't think I could take that."

"I don't think that's a problem," he told her. "The quickening would go to the nearest Immortal, probably Wesa."

"But she's pregnant," Anya said. "What would that do to her baby?"

Xander spoke up again. "I hate to bring this up, but if he's Death, do we even want her to have the baby?" he asked.

**********

Methos sighed in his sleep and turned toward Wesa, slipping his hand across her swelling abdomen. A moment later his eyes popped open and he looked at her in the dimness of their bedroom. Her eyes shone with tears, but she was smiling happily. "Are you all right?" he asked, rising onto his elbow and looking down at her. "What is it?"

She took his hand in hers and moved it to the side of her belly. "There. Did you feel it?" she whispered as if she were afraid of destroying something precious. "The baby's moving."

As she spoke, Methos did feel it, just a little bump moving under his fingers. He grinned. "I feel it." He leaned over to press his lips to the spot. "Hello, Little One. Welcome."

Wesa raised her arms and twined them around his neck as he turned back to her. "Hi, 'Daddy,'" she murmured.

He chuckled. "Hi, 'Mommy,'" he replied, going along with her silliness. He felt rather giddy himself. He had known, intellectually, about the baby in her belly, but feeling his child moving under his fingertips had made it real to him for the first time. "April is such a long time away."

Wesa laughed at his statement. "I feel that way, too," she told him. "Silly, isn't it? Five thousand years old, give or take, and we neither of us want to wait and enjoy this time when we can be just like everyone else."

Methos lay back down, and Wesa cuddled close to his side. "Almost just like everyone else," he corrected, slipping his arm around her shoulders and encouraging her to put her head on his chest. "We don't have to worry about you surviving the birth."

"Just the baby." Wesa slipped her hand across his chest, playing absently with his nipple. "Methos, will you promise me something?"

"Probably. What?"

"If I have trouble, if the baby is in any danger, you have to cut it from my body."

Methos was silent for a moment, considering her request. "I don't want to hurt you," he told her.

"You have to," she insisted. "I'll survive, as you said. But the baby, Our Baby, is still mortal. You mustn't allow him to come to harm in any way. Please, promise me, Methos!"

He nodded, pulling her close enough to kiss her forehead. "All right, I promise."

Wesa sighed with relief and closed her eyes. "Thank you."

**********

Buffy had taken over following Methos from Xander after Dawn found the reference that named the Immortal as one of the Four Horsemen, but by the weekend she was convinced it was a waste of time.

"The Rolling Stones. Really," Giles mused when she told him about Methos' habit of dropping names.

"Wesa didn't buy it," Buffy continued with a chuckle. "She fed him a bite of her dinner and told him they wouldn't have let him sing with them, and that he was too lazy to be a roadie. Honestly, Giles, they seem like your normal, everyday, boring couple. Except they're Immortal. Angel and I were weirder. Riley and I were weirder. Xander and Anya are weirder."

"So what are you saying?" Xander asked. "That he's harmless?"

"I think," Buffy replied, "that there's an easier way to keep an eye on him and maybe learn something at the same time."

**********

"Well, what do you say?" Buffy asked.

Methos looked around her training room behind the magic shop, nodding. "A bit cramped, but not bad."

"I have to train, you have to train. We could keep each other in shape," Buffy suggested. "You can't keep training with Wesa. She's pregnant."

He looked over his shoulder into the store, where Wesa sat on the table talking to Giles about something in a book he was showing her. "She is indeed," he said with a crooked smile. "What do you get out of it?"

She indicated the padded suit in the corner. "I hurt Xander even in that. With you I could train all-out, not have to hold anything back. And you could teach me to swordfight."

Methos held up his hands. "Oh, no. Not me. Not against the Slayer."

"Why not?" she asked.

"You think I like getting cut up?" He regarded her steadily. "Okay, I'll show you some tricks, some techniques. I won't cross swords with you, though, for three reasons. I like my head where it is, and I don't know what a quickening right now would do to the baby, since it would almost certainly go to Wesa."

"And the other reason?"

"You're mortal."

Behind them, in the shop, Wesa read the passage Giles pointed out to her, nodding slowly. "Wow, this is melodramatic. It sounds like something Kronos would write." She paused. "Or Cassandra."

"Do you mean it's true?" Giles asked, glancing worriedly at the old man.

"Well," Wesa hedged, "it's overstated. 'War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death?' Sure, Kronos was a sociopath and Caspian was a psychopath, even though we didn't have the words or concepts then. But Silas was just a normal man of the time. He liked dogs and horses and monkeys. He also liked battle, even if it was a little one-sided. And Methos - Methos was just doing what he always does."

"Killing people?" Giles asked in a harsh whisper.

"Trying to survive," Wesa retorted. "You don't understand. Kronos was charming, insistent, and crazy. And dangerous. Caspian was worse, but fortunately not quite as smart."

"You were there?"

The girl nodded slowly. "For a while, we helped them."

"They were killers!"

Wesa looked at him oddly. "It was three thousand years ago, Mr. Giles. Few cultures held life in any kind of high regard. Human sacrifices were still fairly common, and in many societies, men practiced war for fun. If a witch wanted to survive, she threw in her lot with a leader, or with another, more powerful witch. My teacher decided we should ride with the Horsemen. And we did, for a couple hundred years. I'm not proud of that, but I don't apologize for it either. I did what I had to do." She paused. "You say 'we' found this passage. Who's 'we?'"

"Just Buffy and myself," Giles lied easily. "Will he be angry?"

"Possibly with me, for letting his name slip like I did," Wesa soothed, "but not with you. We would ask that you guard his secret, though. There are Immortals in the world who would come after so ancient and powerful a quickening, if they knew where he was." She turned her head and looked toward the door as Willow, Tara, and Dawn entered. "Hi," she called.

"Hi, Wesa," Willow said. "Oh, hey, you haven't met Dawn yet, have you?"

Dawn raised her hand uncertainly in greeting. "Hi."

"It's nice to meet you," Wesa said politely.

"Dawn and Buffy are sisters," Willow told her.

"That must have been hard for you, growing up with the Slayer for an older sister," Wesa commiserated.

There was a crash from the back room, then Buffy exclaimed, "God, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

Wesa slipped down off the table and hurried back to the doorway, followed by the others. "What happened?" she asked, seeing Methos picking himself up off the floor.

"She kicked my ass, is what happened," Methos replied, holding one hand to his backside.

"You kicked Methos' ass? Cool!" Dawn exclaimed, grinning.

"Dawn!" Buffy complained.

Both Immortals stared at the Slayer's sister, then Methos closed his eyes, shaking his head, and Wesa turned to Giles. "You said only you and Buffy knew!"

"We weren't sure how Methos would react," he explained. "The uh, all the texts we found say he was vicious."

That had Methos' interest immediately. "Texts? What texts?"

"Oh, now you've done it," Wesa murmured.

"Done what?" Willow asked. Beside her, Tara looked worried, too.

Wesa watched Methos follow Giles back into the other room. "Now he'll spend the rest of the evening with his nose buried in a book."

"It'll have to be a big book," Dawn observed.

Wesa sputtered, covering her mouth with one hand. "That it will," she agreed.

**********

How many times did she have to die?

Paili Bat-Gedeon put on her new winter coat and boots and left the cabin, wading the first snow of the season out to where Ada-Lisa Barbeau hung spread-eagled between two trees. "Are you cold?" she asked solicitously.

"Que pense tu?" Ada-Lisa spat at her, shivering violently. "Hell-bitch!"

"You must tell me what I want to know." Paili's dark eyes and hair and her olive complexion contrasted strikingly with the snow-covered ground and vegetation. "Tell me, and I will let you go back to your sweet young man. I may even send you back with your head attached to your shoulders."

Ada-Lisa didn't believe her for one second. "Attached with staples, no doubt." She bit back a groan as Immortal healing tried to pull her dislocated shoulders back into their sockets.

"I know what you were doing at the clinic," Paili told her, fully aware of the young witch's effort not to react to the statement, "but it's too late. She must suffer as I have suffered." She drew her sword from her coat and began to draw designs on Ada-Lisa's abdomen with the point. "Be reasonable, Ada-Lisa. I have no quarrel with you or any of your other sister-witches."

"I won't tell you anything!"

"You're a stubborn fool!" Paili exclaimed. "I should let you hang there for the crows." She paused, pacing around her hostage. "Were you successful? Is Wesa pregnant?"

"If I tell you she is, you'll kill her baby. If I tell you no, you'll kill my sister."

"Eventually...Wesa must lose what is dearest to her. She must know my torment before I extract my revenge. I'll kill Methos first."

Ada-Lisa managed a dry chuckle. "You might find that more difficult than you think. He hasn't been around so long because he's easy to kill."

"She killed Iakovos!" Paili stopped behind Ada-Lisa on her right, gripping her sword angrily.

"You told me." Ada-Lisa squirmed against her bonds, trying to ease her aching shoulders. At least the cuts on her stomach had healed. "Wesa doesn't generally like to kill. He must have deserved it."

Paili screamed in frustration and ran her sword through Ada-Lisa's abdomen from one side to the other, feeling the edge of her blade scrape along the bottom of the floating ribs. "She killed Iakovos! I will kill her!" she shouted as she pulled her sword free. She watched Ada-Lisa die yet again, then stomped off toward the cabin, and warmth. She would clean her sword and insure the edge was perfect. Then perhaps it was time to try another tactic. Somehow, somewhere, she would destroy Wesa's world as Wesa had destroyed hers.

**********

In the months since Iakovos had activated her Immortality, Paili had learned things she had never thought she would need to know, among them the reason for her barrenness. According to Iakovos, it was how God balanced the gift of Immortality. Immortals died only at the hands of other Immortals; otherwise they lived forever, enjoying youth and health, but never able to procreate.

She had also learned to handle a sword. She was better with it, Iakovos said, than most of the Roman soldiers who had occupied Judea for years. He had given her two swords: one was fairly heavy, like the ones carried by the soldiers at the garrison. She used it for practice. The other was shorter, lighter, and tapered, and this was the one she carried when she went out, for Iakovos had warned her there would be other Immortals who would try to kill her. "Some of them may seem friendly," he told her, "but in the end they will turn on you. You can't trust them."

His distrust of other Immortals didn't prevent him from taking another student, however.

They thought she was Roman or Greek at first, her golden hair making her stand out prominently among more commonly seen shades of brown and red hair when they first saw her in the marketplace. She looked up from the length of cloth she was examining, her blue eyes widening when she saw them.

Iakovos made the first cautious approach. Even though the young woman appeared to be no more than twenty, she could be considerably older. She could be very dangerous.

"I'm not looking for a fight," she said when they approached her, "just material for a new dress." Her accent was unlike that of either the Romans or the Greeks.

"I am Iakovos Re'uven," Iakovos said. "This is my wife, Paili Bat-Gedeon."

The girl seemed startled by his revelation, but quickly covered. "I am Wesa," she said. "I - I didn't know Immortals ever married." She seemed embarrassed by the revelation of her ignorance, her eyes scanning the crowded market, looking anywhere but at Iakovos and Paili.

"You are young, if not quite so young as you seem," Iakovos said gently. "You will need a teacher." He glanced at Paili. "If my wife has no objection, I will take you as my student. Have you a place to live?"

**********

It was nearing sunset and time to light the fifth candle of Chanukah, but Iakovos had not yet come in, so Paili went looking for him. She wasn't surprised to hear the clang of swords; the blonde girl had learned quickly, and Iakovos had not been surprised when she had taken the head of a challenger earlier that month. Iakovos had insisted Wesa still had much to learn, however, and had allowed her to stay on at their farm instead of sending her away as he said was customary. The ringing of swords meant that Iakovos and Wesa were practicing in the olive grove clearing.

Paili frowned faintly. She did not begrudge Wesa her husband's teaching, and she realized Wesa did not celebrate Jewish holidays, but she thought the girl should have more respect for the traditions of her hosts. Chanukah was not the time to be training so intensively. She followed the sound to its source.

Paili watched in stunned silence as the woman to whom she had opened her home sliced at Iakovos' belly, cutting through his robe and into his flesh. It was not a fatal wound, not for an Immortal, but it wasn't the sort of minor wound one inflicted during practice, either. This combat was serious.

"Liar!" Iakovos accused Wesa, the tip of his sword raking down her left arm, leaving a trail of blood that ran and dripped even as the wound it came from healed beneath it.

Wesa danced away gracefully. "Me?" she retorted. "I never said I was young and in need of a teacher, Iakovos. You made that assumption. I only went along with it because it put me in a good place to protect her. How long will you wait? Will you also go after Paili's head as soon as she wins her first challenge?"

Paili was close enough now for them to feel her presence, and they paused briefly in their combat, looking at her. "Paili!" Iakovos shouted. "Bring your sword and come."

"You cannot interfere, Paili," Wesa warned. "If you do, you'll lose your head soon after I do! He means to kill you."

Paili drew her sword and moved toward the combatants as they resumed their fight. "Iakovos would never harm me," she disagreed.

Iakovos laughed at Wesa. "If you kill me," he warned her, "Paili will take your head while you're down from the quickening. Give up now, Wesa. You cannot win."

"Can't I?" Wesa retorted. "I have the quickening of Luvik, who killed Shaitan and Ekikearn, and who was taught by Kanetsidohi, as I was." She smiled grimly at his expression. "I see you know their names."

"You're a witch!" Iakovos realized. "Paili, she must die."

"And how will you justify Paili's death?" Wesa taunted, landing a strike across his upper left arm, causing it to hang uselessly at his side. "Will you also accuse her of witchcraft? Or will you accuse her of adultery, as you did your last wife?"

Last wife? Now Paili knew Wesa was lying, not just mistaken. "Iakovos was never married before," she objected.

"You never told her, did you?" Wesa asked, circling, looking for an opening. "Were you ashamed? Sitara loved you with all her heart. She would never have lain with another man, but you betrayed her. You betrayed her!" Wesa cried out angrily. "Never again will you make a wife of a young Immortal and then turn on her. I won't allow you to kill Paili! I won't allow it!"

Paili could see Wesa work at getting her emotions back under control. When she spoke again, her voice was level, cool and calm. "Paili," she said quietly, "I understand how you feel about Iakovos, but you don't know his past. I do. He married a friend of mine, and then he killed her. Sleep with Immortal men if you will; marry them even. But never trust them with your life. There can be only one, Paili, remember that." Iakovos interrupted her speech with a flurry of strikes that Wesa had to break off to parry. She did so successfully, then pressed Iakovos further, knowing her advantage. She continued, "I hate to do this, Paili, but Iakovos is right about one thing: I don't want to die. So I have to put you out of the action for a bit. I'm sorry."

Not understanding, Paili moved closer. "I won't allow you to take his head," she warned, raising her sword.

"I...know," Wesa replied, ducking away as Iakovos made a try for her head. "That's why I have to -" She spun, and Paili stared at the knife that suddenly protruded from her chest, sinking slowly to her knees as the world around her went black.

When she gasped and woke, Iakovos was dead and Wesa was gone. Paili spent several uncomfortable months under suspicion of having murdered her husband, but her obvious mourning eventually convinced them of the truth of her story of hearing a swordfight and finding the headless corpse of her husband in the olive grove.

And all the time, she was searching for any trace of Wesa.

**********

It had been obvious within seconds after the fight began that Skinner was hopelessly outclassed by Paili Bat-Gedeon, the dark-haired woman who had challenged him. Though she could have taken his head within minutes, she didn't seem to want to actually kill him. Instead, she tormented him until after midnight, tagging him again and again with her sword until he was a mass of new and half-healed wounds, panting with exhaustion, his clothes in shreds. Finally, she caught the back of his neck with the hilt of her sword and thrust him forward, stumbling onto his knees. The next moment, it seemed his head was exploding, as she followed the move with a pommel-blow to the back of his skull. Then darkness.

When he woke he was on his back, his sword out of his immediate reach and the weight of his gun missing from its holster. Paili Bat-Gedeon knelt with one knee on his chest, resting the cutting edge of her sword against his throat as she waited for him to recuperate.

He looked up at her expectantly. "Why haven't you killed me?" he asked.

"Do you want your girlfriend back?" Paili asked him.

"Is she alive?" Skinner asked dubiously.

"From time to time," Paili allowed, "but she won't tell me what I must find out. I already know about her vile experiment. Was that experiment successful?"

"What experiment?"

"Wesa was your teacher. Have you kept in touch?"

Skinner frowned up at her suspiciously. "If Ada-Lisa won't tell you where she is, why should I?"

"I already know where she is. I want to know if she's pregnant. If you don't tell me, you will die here and now, and Ada-Lisa will die of thirst and hunger day after day, and of exposure night after night. If you do tell me, I'll tell you where your girlfriend is and let you go so you can rescue her."

Skinner hated this woman instantly. She reminded him of Krycek, forcing him to choose between Scully's unborn child and Mulder. No one should have to make such a choice.

Ada-Lisa was Immortal; she would survive until someone found her. No matter where this woman had hidden her, eventually someone would discover her. But what condition would her mind be in after such an experience? And this woman already knew where Wesa was. Within weeks a mere glance would answer her question. Besides, Wesa was on the other side of the country. He would have time to warn her before his opponent could reach her. He reached a decision.

"You can probably tell by looking at her by now," Skinner said.

When his answer sank in, Paili screamed in outrage, "Abomination!" She raised her sword, and Skinner screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the end. A moment later the pressure of her knee on his chest eased, and when he opened his eyes, Paili was gone. "Wait!" he called out. "You said you'd tell me where Ada-Lisa is!"

For a moment there was only silence, then a voice floated eerily back through the darkness. "Shenandoah Mountains. There's a cabin about six and a half miles south of Highway 33. The witch is in the trees." There was another long pause, during which Skinner rose and collected his sword and gun. "Skinner, remember the Commandment. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'"

"Jesus!" Skinner objected. "Mulder! I know you're there. Call Doggett and Reyes, and tell them to meet me in their office as soon as they can get there."

**********

John Doggett and Monica Reyes both arrived in the parking garage just before 4:00 AM, and they went into the Hoover Building together, descending to their basement office as the message Mulder had conveyed from Skinner had instructed. Quick questions established that neither knew more than the other, and they entered the X-Files office to find their supervisor - wearing a sweatshirt and blue jeans - conducting an electronic sweep for listening devices. Doggett looked at Reyes, then back at Skinner. "Sir?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Skinner held up one finger warningly and took a moment to run the scanner over both of them before he answered. "Thanks for coming, agents. I need your help." He paused, then added, "And your discretion."

Again the agents exchanged glances before Reyes replied, "You have it, sir. What can we do?"

"A woman has been kidnapped. I know approximately where she is, and the search will go much faster with help, but I can't involve the Bureau officially. I hope I can trust you not to report this."

Doggett hesitated. "Why can't you involve the Bureau?"

Skinner took his coat from the coat tree near the door. "Let's go. I'll try to explain on the way. Mulder will be out on the street. Since he'll follow us anyway, we might as well get him into the same car."

"Follow us?" Reyes repeated.

"Well, me, actually."

"Why?"

"It's his job." Skinner led the way to his car, but handed the keys to Doggett. "You drive. I have to make a phone call." He got in the front passenger seat, and Reyes slid into the back behind him.

Doggett got in and started the car, then looked at Skinner helplessly. "Where am I going?"

"Pick up Mulder, then head for the Shenandoah Mountains. Take Route 33." Skinner pulled out his cell phone and looked at it while Doggett drove out of the garage. His phone was probably bugged, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't take the time to stop at a pay phone. He dialed Wesa's number in California.

**********

Methos cursed in Sumerian and reached for the telephone. "Why the hell can't it wait until morning?" he asked.

"Who is Paili Bat-Gedeon?" Skinner's voice asked him.

"Never heard of her. Why?" he asked, flopping onto his back beside Wesa, who looked at him drowsily. Then, apparently deciding the call was either for Professor Pierson or Methos, she turned over and went back to sleep.

"She kidnapped Ada-Lisa. She hates Wesa, and she called your child an abomination," Skinner replied. "I think she's on her way there."

"I can protect them."

"I don't think you understand," Skinner insisted. "She hates Wesa, and she knows where you are."

"You told her?"

"No, I didn't. She already knew. I have no idea how."

In the background, Methos heard another voice say in exasperation, "Mulder, don't argue, just get into the car!"

"Who was that?" he asked cautiously.

"One of my agents; one I trust, yes. No, I haven't told him about you. They're coming to help me find Ada-Lisa."

"You know where she is?" Methos asked, feeling Wesa jerk awake.

"Approximately. If I knew exactly, I could go get her on my own."

"Ada-Lisa?" Wesa asked, suppressing a cry when Methos nodded.

"Alright," he told Skinner. "Let us know when you find her." He disconnected and turned to his lover. "Skinner says Paili Bat-Gedeon is on her way, that she hates you, and that she called our child an abomination. Do you want to tell me why?"

**********

"Calling Pierson?" Mulder asked from the seat behind Doggett. "Or Wesa?"

"Wesa. Pierson answered."

"They're still together? Is Wesa okay?"

Skinner looked at him over his shoulder. "As far as I know. You haven't talked to Maggie lately?"

"She's in California."

"I figured. I just thought maybe you Watchers talked to each other once in a while." He sighed. "Mulder, this'll be easier if you back me up."

"I'm not even supposed to be talking to you."

"Since when do you follow the rules?" Skinner asked. "Tell me about Paili Bat-Gedeon."

Mulder sighed. "You fought her."

"Yes, and she nearly killed me. She's after Wesa, Mulder. I know Wesa isn't the innocent nineteen-year-old she seems to be, but I still have a hard time believing anyone would want to kill her."

"Excuse me," Doggett interrupted. "Does anyone want to fill us in?"

The silence after his question was filled only by the faint road hum of the tires. "Guess not," Reyes observed.

"I've been sworn to secrecy," Mulder said, "and with good reason, in my opinion. This is one case where public knowledge of the truth would destroy innocents."

"Well, I don't know that Wesa could be called an innocent," Skinner mused. "Pierson, definitely not. But their baby..."

"Baby!" Mulder exclaimed. "She can't be pregnant!"

"I imagine she's starting to show by now," Skinner replied. "Isn't Mrs. Scully reporting in? I'd think Watcher headquarters would be buzzing over her condition."

"So a nineteen-year-old is pregnant," Doggett said. "What's the problem? Is she a virgin or something?"

"I really doubt it," Mulder said.

"I know she's not," Skinner said. "You haven't tried to sleep in the same house with those two. And she's not nineteen. She hasn't been nineteen for a very long time, maybe three thousand years."

Doggett jerked the wheel, startled, then pulled the car back into the correct lane. "Three thousand?" he repeated.

Mulder sighed. "Three thousand seventy-five. At least," he said.

**********

"Oh my god." Doggett scrambled across the deadfall in the failing light toward the woman suspended by her arms from ropes tied to different trees, her clothing cut and bloodied, her hands white with blood loss and frostbite, snow covering her bright red hair. "Mulder! Monica! Skinner! Over here!" He got to the crucified woman and felt at her ankle for a pulse, but found nothing. They were too late.

"Cut her down," Skinner ordered, coming through the snowy forest.

"Sir, we can't," Reyes protested. "It's a murder scene."

Skinner shot her a look and drew a huge sword out of his overcoat, slicing the ropes swiftly. The body dropped to the ground. Putting the sword away as casually as he'd drawn it, Skinner bent and straightened the woman's limbs, then lifted the body in his arms. "She said there was a cabin," he said. "Find it."

"It's this way," Mulder said, taking the lead. "Are you feeling a buzz?"

"Not yet," Skinner replied, "but she'll come around soon."

Doggett and Reyes exchanged glances. "Assistant Director," Reyes said gently, "she's dead."

"She'll get over it," Mulder told her. He noticed that Doggett had his cell phone out. "Don't bother calling it in, Agent Doggett. She won't be dead anymore by the time anyone gets here."

"What are you talking about, Mulder?" Doggett protested. "Are you as crazy as everyone says you are?"

"She'll revive in a little while," Mulder insisted. "Her head's still attached."

They reached the cabin, and trying the door, Mulder found it unlocked. He went in, and Skinner followed, cradling Ada-Lisa's body close to his. He carried her to the bed on the far side of the one-room cabin and wrapped her in the quilts he found there while Mulder built a fire in the hearth. "Come on," he murmured, holding her close. "C'mon, Ada-Lisa."

Doggett followed Reyes into the cabin and closed the door, grateful for the shelter from the mountain cold, but watching his supervisor hold a dead woman in his arms and stroke her hair tenderly was just about more than he could stand. Reyes felt the same way; he could tell by the way she reached out and almost touched Skinner's shoulder, sympathy written clearly in her soft brown eyes.

"How long?" Mulder asked once he'd gotten the fire started.

"What?" Skinner didn't understand the question.

"What's her recovery time like?"

Skinner shook his head. "I never had occasion to find out," he replied. "And anyway, I don't know how long it's been since the last time she died."

Doggett opened his mouth to protest once again, but was cut off when the woman on the bed took a deep gasping breath and shuddered. She looked around wildly before focussing on Skinner, who held her close. "It's all right, sweetheart," he told her. "I'm here now."

"Walter," she gasped. "Walter, you must warn Wesa. Paili means to kill her child!"

"I already told her," Skinner soothed. "Well, I told Methos." The name raised Mulder's brows, though he said nothing. "He won't let her be hurt."

"But the baby - The baby! Walter, do you understand why this child is so important?" Ada-Lisa asked, gripping at his forearm.

He nodded. "I understand enough," he said gently.

**********

The telephone call confirming that Ada-Lisa was safe came shortly after Methos had gone to class. Wesa spent fifteen minutes talking to her sister, making sure she was okay and reassuring her that she was safe with Methos looking after her and the baby, thanking her for the warning, and apologizing for the pain she had suffered.

"Just make sure she can't hurt you," Ada-Lisa warned. "I want to see your child run and play with Kuyenray."

"We will, Ada-Lisa," Wesa told her. "How is Walter handling it?"

"Oh, Walter's fine," Ada-Lisa laughed, "but two of his friends witnessed my recovery. I suppose I should go help him explain."

"Tell him hi for me. Mulder, too," Wesa said. "Take care."

"Abiento," Ada-Lisa said, and disconnected.

Wesa smiled, imagining Walter and Mulder trying to explain the existence of Immortals. Anyone who knew Mulder wasn't going to believe it, no matter what they had seen. Then she turned back to her bed, where she had discarded her stretchiest pair of slacks when she couldn't get them fastened that morning. There was no help for it; she had to go shopping.

"I don't want to go alone," she said softly. "That's no fun." She sighed. Methos wouldn't be home for hours. It was too bad Ada-Lisa was in Washington, three thousand miles to the east; and she was the nearest of her sister-witches. Wesa's eyes brightened. Witches. "I wonder what Willow and Tara are doing?" she murmured, reaching for a loose dress. She needed to tell her new young friends that Ada-Lisa had been found, anyway, so Tara could stop worrying.

**********

Four young women and one who only looked that way laughed together over frozen yogurt at Sunnydale Mall. "I can't believe how long it took for someone to find a way to make this stuff edible," Wesa said. "I hate yogurt, but this is good."

"Almost ice cream," Willow agreed.

"And it comes in chocolate," Dawn put in, out of school early because of a local teachers' meeting. She put a spoonful of her treat into her mouth.

"Definitely a big plus," Buffy agreed.

"You mustn't tell Methos I indulged. I've been complaining about my waistline." Wesa glanced down. "Who am I kidding? What waistline?" She chuckled. "Strangely, he doesn't seem to mind."

"When are you due?" Willow asked, grinning.

"April 12." Wesa smiled wryly. "It seems like a long time, even to me."

"What's it like? Being pregnant, I mean," Tara asked.

With a smile, Wesa shook her head. "It's awful," she said. "My clothes don't fit. I'm clumsy. My back and legs and feet ache. I puke a lot. But it's wonderful, too." Her smile became shy. "I've started feeling the baby move. I think we're growing a kick-boxer."

The younger girls laughed again while Wesa caressed her stomach. "Have you decided on names?" Dawn asked. "I mean like Steve for a boy or Beth for a girl."

"No," Wesa told her. "I never had to name a baby before. I don't know where to start."

"Oh! I do," Willow exclaimed. She took the last bite of her yogurt and stood up. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"'K, Will," Buffy said.

"When she gets back, we should start home," Wesa said, glancing up at the clock that hung outside the jewelers. "It'll be dark soon."

"But are you really in any danger?" Tara asked. "Methos survived the attack."

Wesa nodded slowly. "For myself, no, I guess not. But if I died, the baby would suffer oxygen starvation until I recovered. We don't know for sure if our child will be like us. We don't know if it's genetic, because we don't know where we come from. We're all adopted, if we can even remember parents at all." She sighed. "We don't want our child to be brain-damaged by lack of oxygen, and we don't want him to be Immortal yet. I was too young. If Kanetsidohi hadn't been there to become my teacher and friend, I would never have survived this long." She smiled as Willow returned and handed her a book. "30,000 Names for Baby?" she laughed, opening it and looking through it. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," Willow said with a grin. "Happy Baby."

Wesa chuckled at some of the names she was finding. "I see definite entertainment value here," she told Willow, "but I'd better tell Methos I bought it. About the time I suggest 'Ambrose,' I suspect I'll be spanked."

Buffy scowled. "He hits you?"

"He can't spank you, you're pregnant," Dawn objected.

"It's okay," Wesa assured them. "We're just playing. We don't let it get rough, at least not since I've been pregnant." She raised her brows and scratched her ear casually. "Spanking isn't necessarily a bad thing," she said innocently. "It can lead to other fun games."

"Wesa!" Buffy objected, pretending to cover Dawn's ears while the others laughed.

The Immortal woman looked at her and rolled her eyes. "Buffy," she said in a low, gentle voice, "she's not too young. It wasn't so long ago that girls Dawn's age were wives and mothers."

"I like her," Dawn announced.

Quite suddenly, Wesa sat up straighter and looked around intently.

"What's the matter?" Tara worried.

"There's someone here," Wesa replied, "and it's not Methos. He wouldn't be hiding."

"Someone like you?" Willow asked.

Wesa paused in her agitated scanning of the crowd and looked at Willow. "Yes. Someone with a long life line."

Buffy stood and picked up her bag. "I'll get you home."

"Holy ground," Wesa corrected. "Whoever it is won't kill me on holy ground."

"Like a church?" Dawn asked helpfully.

"Or a cemetery. Just holy ground, anybody's holy ground."

"The cemetery's nearest," Buffy said. "We'll take you there." They all grabbed their packages and headed out of the mall and north toward the campus and the cemetery across the street from it.

Spike was just about to leave his crypt for the evening when Dawn burst in, followed by her sister, herding the three witches ahead of her. "Hi, Spike!" she called cheerfully, pushing the crypt door closed.

"Hey, Li'l Bit," he replied, eyeing Wesa cautiously. "What's she doing here?"

She put her left hand on her belly protectively. "You stay away from me," she said, drawing the short sword she always carried. "You I can kill."

"Spike can't hurt you," Dawn said, bouncing down the step into the crypt.

"Willow, Tara, stay here with Dawn and Wesa. Spike, keep a lookout for anyone carrying a sword -" Buffy started.

"She is," Spike interrupted, indicating the wary Immortal.

Buffy sighed. "Besides Wesa. I'll scout around."

"Go get Methos," Wesa urged. "He needs to know there's another Immortal around besides me. And it might be Paili."

"Who?"

Wesa shook her head. "Long story. The short version is, I saved her life and she's been pissed at me ever since. Please, Buffy. I can't allow you to interfere in a legitimate challenge. And anyway, if you defended me, if you were to kill her, I'd take the quickening." Her hand curved over her belly. "I can't do that right now. Especially not on holy ground."

Buffy nodded. "Right. Holy ground is a problem because?"

"Holy ground is our refuge. Immortals do not fight on holy ground. We do not take each other's heads on holy ground. It's the one Rule of the Game that's never broken, not even by the most evil among us." She took a shaky breath and added, "So we don't know exactly what would happen. It might be bad. And there's nothing stopping her from hurting any of you, just because she sees you're my friends."

Reluctantly Buffy agreed. "All right, I'll go get Methos." She turned and slipped out the door of the crypt.

From the shadow of a tree, Paili Bat-Gedeon watched the petite blonde leave the crypt into which she had hustled Wesa and the younger women. What could they possibly want in the cemetery? What could the witch be up to? She shuddered at the thought of the dark paths down which her prey might be leading the innocents, and doing it on holy ground just made it worse. Or had she made some kind of pact with a vampire? The town seemed to be crawling with the unclean things; Paili had dusted two already since she had arrived in Sunnydale.

A crypt. Paili sighed. There was unlikely to be a second exit, but the witch had enough money she could have built it any way she wished. The crypt was at least half a century old, but Paili didn't know where Wesa had been during World War Two and the decades following. She might easily have been drawn to the evil of this place, and could have built the crypt as a hiding place then. She moved out, circling slowly, watching for other possible exits.

**********

Methos had no more than entered the house he shared with Wesa when he realized she wasn't there. The note pinned with a magnet to the refrigerator door - "Clothes don't fit. Gone shopping." - resolved most of his concern, and he smiled, reaching for a beer. Wesa knew his love for the fruit of hop and barley would bring him to the refrigerator. Perhaps she knew him too well. It could become irritating, but he'd put up with it for now, at least until the baby came. Once Wesa could defend herself and their child, he could return to his transient ways, dropping in for holidays and important events. He opened the beer and went upstairs to change out of his "professor" clothes and into something more appropriate for working out with the Slayer. He was reaching for the doorknob to go meet Buffy at The Magic Box when she burst in.

"Methos, come quick," she said. "It's Wesa."

All the things that could go wrong with a pregnancy sped through his mind. "Is she in labor?" he asked worriedly, grabbing his keys as he followed her out.

"Huh? No, the baby's fine, at least as far as I know," Buffy said. "Wesa says there's another Immortal following her."

"And you left her?" he demanded, unlocking the passenger door of his Range Rover.

"She's on holy ground," Buffy explained, climbing in while he went around and got in the other side. "She said she was safe there, and Dawn and Willow and Tara are with her. And I left them with Spike; he can protect them from anything non-human. It's just the Immortal. Wesa's kind of trapped in Spike's crypt."

Methos gunned the engine and drove to the cemetery as fast as he could. "Could be Paili," he muttered.

"What's with her?" Buffy asked. "Wesa said she saved her life and this woman had never forgiven her."

Methos sighed. "Immortals run the same range of good and evil as other people," he explained, running a stop sign. "Wesa found out that Paili's teacher was in the habit of marrying new Immortals, training them, letting them take a few heads, then turning on them, and taking their heads by treachery. Paili was good, but not good enough to take Iakovos, so to protect her, Wesa challenged him. But Paili loved Iakovos, and she won't believe that he would have killed her. She's intent on revenge, starting with those Wesa loves more than anything or anyone. And there's no Rule preventing Paili from killing a mortal on holy ground. Our baby's in danger."

"And so's Dawn," Buffy said. Her face took on a determined expression.

They drove in silence the rest of the way to the graveyard. As he parked the SUV, Methos raised his head as if listening to something, and looked around. "Wesa?" Buffy asked.

He shook his head. "Not powerful enough. And Wesa holds Luvik. This is different." He opened the door and got out, drawing his sword as he hurried around the front to join Buffy at the cemetery entrance. "Which way?"

**********

Watching from the shadow of a tree behind the crypt, Paili couldn't believe her eyes. The mortal girl had brought Wesa's beloved Methos right to her. She fingered the gun in her pocket, but no, Methos was for later; besides, he had already entered the cemetery, looking around in search of the Immortal whose presence he felt. No, she would kill the child first, then when the witch turned to Methos for comfort, that would be the moment to snatch him forever out of reach.

**********

"Methos!" Wesa breathed in relief when he followed Buffy through the door of the crypt.

"Sword!" Spike warned, pointing in Methos' direction as the two Immortals met and exchanged a swift embrace.

"Thanks, Spike," Willow muttered from her position on watch at the door. "We would never have guessed that without your input."

Dawn interceded. "Well to be fair, Buffy did ask him to warn her about people with swords."

"Yeah," Spike agreed.

"Did you think we didn't all know he has a sword?" Tara asked him. "Hush now."

Methos peeped out the door over the top of Willow's head. "Did you have a plan, Buffy?" he asked.

"A plan?" she repeated.

"For getting everyone out of here." He looked at her. "You didn't have a plan. You led us into a dead end hideout with no plan?" He sighed and looked back out into the deepening twilight, muttering, "Now I understand why Kronos was so irritable when my plans didn't work out right."

"Actually, the plan was to get me somewhere safe, then go get you," Wesa defended Buffy. "Her plan has worked perfectly so far. And if you can't work out a plan to get us out safely, no one can. He was always the schemer," she added in an aside to Dawn and Tara.

Methos shot her a warning glance, which Wesa didn't see, and closed the door. "Getting dark out there. Paili has that advantage over us: her eyes are dark adapted." He frowned at Spike. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Better than you can, mate," Spike replied.

"Good. You take over here. Warn us if anyone comes near, particularly a dark-haired woman with a sword."

"Oh, now you're gettin' choosy." Reluctantly Spike took Methos' place, shooing Willow out of the way.

"Paili isn't normally a murderer," Wesa said as the rest of the group gathered near the step down from the door, "except in the way that all Immortals are. She might not hurt the rest of you, but my baby is definitely in danger."

"And your neck," Methos added.

Wesa nodded, gripping her sword. "If it comes down to it, I will fight her," she said. "Better the baby should take a quickening than that both of us should die."

Methos frowned. "If you win," he added worriedly. "I have a better idea."

"Let's hear it," Buffy said.

"Confusion." Methos waited for the blank looks he got from everyone there. "Paili's after Wesa, but there are seven of us in here. If we all go out in a rush, it'll take her a moment to pick Wesa out of the group. It may be time enough for me to get her over to my car and get us out of here."

"Six." Buffy said sternly. "Dawn will not take part in this." The teenager made a face that indicated her disgust with her sister's over-protectiveness. "What if she doesn't just have a sword, Methos? What if she's got a gun? She could just start shooting at random. I won't risk Dawn, and anyone else who wants to opt out can." Spike raised his hand, about to speak. "Except Spike," Buffy added. Spike put his hand down and looked back out the door.

"That raises the odds considerably that she'll be able to find Wesa in the confusion," Methos pointed out.

"Tara, you should stay here, too," Willow said.

Tara looked at her and objected. "I want to help."

"I know you want to protect her, but this won't work if Wesa and I are the only ones who make a mad dash out the door," Methos said, frowning.

"No. I mean, I know, but that's not what I meant," Willow explained. "Tara could do a spell to increase the confusion by making it seem like there are a lot of us. A lot more of us."

"I could help her," Dawn volunteered.

"Spike has the candles, and it would just take a drop of blood from each of you," Tara said.

Wesa raised her eyebrows. "I know the spell she means," she said. "It might even work on Spike. And if it does work, then the only people who really have to risk going outside are Methos and I. The rest can just be doppelgangers." She looked from Buffy to Methos and saw agreement in their eyes. "I'll help set things up."

**********

Full dark came early in winter, and Paili had to keep an eye out for vampires while she watched the crypt and waited for Wesa to emerge. She had to come out soon, unless the crypt was supplied with running water and a sewer hookup. Both Wesa and Methos were still alive in there; she could feel their quickenings. Paili drew her coat around her body more tightly and tried to get comfortable on the headstone that served as her chair. She had not sat on so hard a resting-place for centuries.

Finally, nearly an hour after the mortal girl had brought Methos to the crypt, the door opened, silhouetting several people against the candlelight. Paili came to her feet as they all seemed to exit at once, going every direction. Which was Wesa? Who were they all? How could they all have been in the small crypt?

In confusion, Paili tried to sort out the different figures that were running every which way. She stretched, craned her neck, and finally realized that most of the people were running about aimlessly, or in large intersecting circles, sometimes changing direction. It was a trick! The witch had cast a spell to cover her escape.

Paili looked for anyone who might be moving in a purposeful way, and finally spotted Methos hurriedly escorting Wesa toward the gate. Paili gave chase. She couldn't allow Wesa to escape again!

They were almost away! Paili sidestepped one of the spell-shifted people and ran into another, feeling a shiver as the image of the youngest girl passed through her. They were nothing but shadows, she realized with a start. She could ignore them entirely, and did, going after the ancient Immortals instead.

Wesa glanced back over her shoulder. "She's coming!"

"Get to the car!" Methos gave her a shove, sending her out through the cemetery gate. He also stepped through, then turned, drawing his sword. "Let her be, Paili," he said in determination. "I can't let you harm my child. If you take one step through those gates, I will kill you, no matter what Wesa wants. I'd kill you even on holy ground, if that was what it took to protect my child."

Paili stood still just inside the gates, a triumphant smile curving her lips. "That is what it will take, old man," she told him, drawing a gun from her coat. She fired once at Methos, hitting him in the shoulder and spinning him around.

"Methos!" Wesa cried out as he fell.

Paili turned toward her. "You will suffer as I have suffered, witch. That which you love will die. Unlike me, however, you will follow shortly after. First the child -"

Wesa wasn't close enough to Methos' Range Rover - or anything else - to take cover. She tried to turn and run, but then Paili fired. Wesa made an "Oomph" sound and went down.

Paili smiled in satisfaction, and drew her sword as she turned back to Methos. "And then," she continued, "the lover." She raised her gun hand again, but as she aimed at the man stirring on the ground, her eyes widened and she stared down at the blade that suddenly protruded from her chest. "But - it's holy ground," she protested, collapsing slowly.

"And I'm not an Immortal," Buffy said, withdrawing Wesa's sword as Methos got to his feet. She took one look at the expression on his face and stepped protectively over Paili's body. "No," she said firmly. "No, Methos. I won't allow you to make me an accessory to murder. Is Wesa all right?"

Methos turned to check, and found Wesa sitting on the ground, crying. "Wesa?"

As he stood over her, she looked up at him, her eyes hollow with fear, her hands covering the center of her abdomen. "Methos...the baby..." she sobbed.

**********

"Buffy wouldn't allow me to kill Paili," Methos said. "We had to get out of there. We couldn't stay in Sunnydale, because she would have just tried again. We needed a safe place to live where the Watchers wouldn't know where we were, where I could protect Wesa, and where we could find out if our child is all right. I thought of this place ... and Dr. Ramsey." He acknowledged Anne with a nod.

Anne, Amanda, Joe, and Duncan all stared at him. "Vampires?" Joe repeated. "You have got to be joking!"

Wesa glared at him, then stalked over and threw the bloodstained dress she had been wearing when she was shot into his lap. "The baby didn't move for five hours!" she told him, near tears.

Amanda rose, then Anne, and both of them went to Wesa. Amanda hugged her gently and briefly, then Anne took her hands. "We'll find out, Wesa," she promised, leading her into the bedroom. "Let's start with a superficial exam. Amanda, would you bring my bag? Thanks."

The three men watched them go, Methos obviously restraining himself from following. When the door closed, Duncan turned to him. "So just how long have you known that vampires were real? And why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Would you have believed me?" Methos asked in irritation. "They're rare enough that unless you live on a Hellmouth, you'll probably never see one. And most of them have learned to hide so well that unless they go for your throat, you'll never know they're no longer human." He pointed toward the closed door. "MacLeod, my child's life is at stake in there!"

In the bedroom, Wesa lifted her blouse and pushed her skirt down around her hips to allow Anne access to her abdomen. "A tape measure?" she asked. "Are you trying to destroy my ego completely?"

Anne chuckled. "Did you think you could bear a child without getting fat?" she asked. "I have one of my own. Let me assure you right now, you're going to get a lot fatter before you get any skinnier." She frowned faintly at the measurement she got.

"What? What is it?" Wesa asked.

"It's okay," Anne assured her. "You're within the normal range." She checked Wesa's blood pressure. "Good." Next she took out her stethoscope and listened to Wesa's heart first, and then put the disc to her stomach. Wesa held her breath. So did Amanda.

As Anne moved the disc around to different places on Wesa's abdomen, a faint smile began to find its way to her lips, and she nodded slowly. "Did you have any bleeding? I mean after you healed from the gunshot."

Wesa nodded. "Just a little."

"Good; it was probably just leakage from the wound, then. Immortal healing leaves no real way to check. Your heart appears to be under no undue strain, and fetal heart sounds are normal." Anne smiled. "As far as I can tell from just this cursory exam, everything's fine."

"The bullet missed the baby?" Wesa asked joyfully.

"I can't tell for sure," Anne hedged, "but it seems like it. Why don't you straighten your clothes and let's go tell the father the good news? I still want you to have an ultrasound on Monday, though."

Wesa nodded. "I'll be there," she promised.

"So...when you come, I want you and Methos to have discussed whether you want to know anything more than whether everything's okay," Anne warned.

Amanda frowned. "What else is there?" she asked.

"Sometimes we can tell if the baby is a boy or a girl," Anne explained, "if the parents want to know."

"Why wouldn't they want to know?"

Anne shrugged. "Tradition, I suppose. Before ultrasound technology, we could only tell by the grossest of genetic tests, and they were dangerous to the baby, so they weren't done very often."

"We'll decide," Wesa said softly, "and let you know before we start."

It was getting dark when three Immortals and a doctor left the island in the canoe, with Duncan and Joe paddling easily over the water.

"So, Anne," Amanda asked quietly, "what was it you were holding back from Wesa?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she picked up on it, but I noticed you were choosing your words very carefully," Amanda told her. "Why?"

The doctor chuckled. "There's a reason Wesa seems a little big for as far along as she is."

"I take it that it's nothing life-threatening to either Wesa or the baby?" Duncan asked.

"No," Anne laughed. "No, not at all."

"So are you going to tell us?" Joe asked over his shoulder. "What did you see?"

"Hear," Anne corrected. "Multiple heartbeats."

The others were silent for a moment, then burst into laughter, their mirth echoing across the water.

About to step back into the cabin, Methos and Wesa paused on the doorstep, listening. They looked at each other and grinned. "I'll ask MacLeod what the joke was when I see him," Methos promised. "C'mon, let's go to bed. What did Anne say about sex?"