Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Nineteen
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Richie raced up to the second floor, not stopping until he'd reached the relative safety of the one upstairs working bathroom. Only just keeping himself from slamming the door behind him, he hurriedly stripped, and with his embarrassment returning full fold, he cleaned himself up. He hadn't done anything like this . . . ever!

Sure, Spike had told him it was 'normal'. It was *supposed* to happen. Unfortunately, to Richie's way of thinking, that didn't make it any less embarrassing. The fact that they both *knew*-- He groaned quietly. Couldn't they have at least warned him?

Shaking his head, he resolutely returned his attention back to his clean up. Sighing as he realized his boxers were a total loss, he shucked them. Then, wishing he'd taken time to stop off in his makeshift room, he quickly scrambled back into his jeans -- choosing the commando option over trying to figure out a way to get to his room without further embarrassment.

Finally, after there was nothing left with which to occupy himself -- and his mind -- Richie looked up, at last meeting his own gaze. "So," he asked himself, "how long are you going to avoid the obvious?"

He chuckled weakly as he got the answer he expected -- silence.

He groaned again, this time bending low and resting his forehead on the cool counter top. Unable to focus his mind on anything else after the odd, okay, he admitted it -- erotic -- interlude downstairs, he was forced to let the thoughts he'd been fighting since Spike had spouted off at Rupert's apartment out to play.

He rose up to once again face the mirror. He'd never really given it much thought before now, but all day today he'd been seeing Methos in a whole new light. And God help him, but he found the older Immortal attractive.

//But what about Buffy?//

"Well, her too," Richie admitted to his reflection. "I've gone crazy, not blind."

A knock on the door startled him, and he spun around, gasping. "Who is it?" a chuckle answered his question before the person even spoke.

"It's me, Adam."

"Um, just a second, Adam," Richie stalled, barely preventing yet another groan of dismay.

"You okay in there?"

Richie cringed at the concern in Methos' voice. **Damn it!** he thought. **I'm not ready to talk to him.**

"Yeah, Adam, I'm fine," he called out over cheerfully. "I'll be out in a sec."

While Richie took a couple of deep breaths, it seemed Methos would wait patiently, then. . . .

"I'm sorry, Richie."

Richie blinked. **Huh?** It took only one step to reach the door. He jerked it open before giving himself time to consider his response, even managing to startle Methos in the process. "Sorry about what?" he demanded in confusion.

Methos shrugged uncomfortably as he handed him a glass of orange juice. "Sorry I made you uncomfortable. Sorry I embarrassed you. I don't know," he continued, shrugging again, "I'm just sorry."

Richie got angry then -- though that was just as confusing as the rest of what he was feeling. "You're sorry?" he asked. "You're sorry for having given me one of the most startling, incredible, and intensely erotic moments of my life? God! I've never felt anything like that in my whole life!"

Methos' head shot up and he eyed Richie in surprise. "Oh," he responded, "so, you're not bothered by what happened then?"

"Sure I'm 'bothered' -- confused actually," Richie replied honestly, and taking refuge behind the juice glass he drank half of it down at once. He was surprised when it almost instantly helped with his remaining dizziness.

"If it helps any," Methos offered, "Spike told me, after you left, that it has nothing to do with gender. In fact--"

"No," Richie interrupted, shaking his head, "it doesn't." When Methos' shoulders slumped slightly Richie drew a deep breath and plunged ahead. "It doesn't, because the questions it could have raised have been spinning around in my head since much earlier today."

"Oh!" Methos responded, sucking in a quick breath.

"Yeah,'." '." Richie retorted, stepping out into the hallway. They'd made it half-way back to Richie's room before he broke the silence that had fallen between them. "Listen, don't take this the wrong way, okay?" he asked. "But I'm gonna need some time to think about things. You know, put everything in or-- u-- up here," he continued, pointing to his temple.

Methos nodded with only the smallest of sighs. "Sure, Rich. I understand."
“Good. I really hope so," Richie grinned, turning to face Methos as they reached his door. "Because you know damn well, I'm gonna need your help with those two."

Methos snorted. "They'll definitely be a handful."

Rolling his eyes, Richie nodded. "If Xander's anything like I was, yes. But, honestly, it's Spike I'm worried about. I'm *very* glad that's only gonna be for a couple of days because I think he's gonna be a *real* pain in the ass!"

"Agreed," Methos replied, frowning, "but there's no telling exactly how long it'll be. We have to wait until the three magic users can bloody come up with a spell to fix us."

"Yeah, I'd forgotten that part. I was concentrating on whatever that thing is that's suppposed to happen in two days." Richie paused, watching Methos thoughtfully. "You really buying all this . . . stuff?"

With an indelicate snort, Methos glanced down at himself. "I kind of have to, Rich. I've got an insider's viewpoint here," he replied drily, but sounded far more relaxed than when he'd first appeared.

"I guess you've kinda got a point there," Richie said, glad that Methos seemed to be okay. He didn't want his confusion to upset the older Immortal. Although, besides the obvious -- that he was becoming a friend -- he wasn't entirely sure why. He turned to go into his room, but suddenly thought of something else. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned. "Oh, I arranged for the first training session with Xander for tomorrow. You'll be there, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Methos replied, smirking.

Richie returned the look, chuckling as he opened his door. "Yeah, if nothing else, just so you can criticize my teaching methods."

"Of course," Methos retorted as he headed off down the hallway. "What else are friends for?"

Richie shook his head, sighing as he made his way toward his bed. Today had certainly been a day for revelations. Unfortunately, at least for the next few days, he knew he was going to have to put most of it aside to think about later. He, Richie Ryan, age 25, had a new Immortal student. Oh *God* he wasn't ready for this. Of course, that couldn't possibly be all. For the next 48 hours, give or take -- hopefully not give too much -- he had to play bodyguard to the oldest Immortal's body, because said Immortal, Methos, 5,000 year old pain in the ass, had taken a vacation from it.

Again he shook his head. How many people in the world could say they'd actually, physically, 'taken a vacation' from their own body? Not counting near death experiences, he ordered his mind. Of course, there was also astral projection to be considered -- Did that actually exist too? He snorted. It didn't matter; it wouldn't count, anyway. He suspected the answer to his question was a very low nr. r. **Yeah,** he thought, **so low I can count the total on one finger.** Trust Methos to get involved in a one-of-a-kind experience.

A light, timid-sounding knock on his door pulled Richie out of his thoughts. Quietly crossing to it, he supposed that tonight just wasn't his night to get introspective.

"Xander?" he asked upon opening the door, then frowned, seeing the expression on the new Immortal's face. "Is something wrong?"

Xander nodded, hesitantly. "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

Nodding back, Richie backed up, waving Xander into the room. "Come on in," he said. Richie watched the young man as he looked for a place to sit. The hunched shoulders and the hesitant step told Richie a lot. Xander was not very sure of himself, and Richie suspected it wasn't a new condition. From both experience, and the aborted clues dropped by the boy himself, Richie was fairly certain he knew why. What he didn't understand was why his friends hadn't helped him. From what little he'd seen, this group was pretty close -- bonded through adversity and all that.

"How long have you known Buffy?" he asked as Xander finally chose to simply corner himself some floor space.

"Forever," Xander replied instantly, giving him a lopsided grin. "Seems that way sometimes, anyway. Sometimes I don't think I can remember what it was like not knowing her. It's been almost four years though."

"And the others?" Richie encouraged.

Xander's grin grew full, and as he leaned forward Richie saw the spark of assurance surface briefly. He was glad to see it.

"I *have* known Willow forever. We've been friends, best friends, since the first grade." Xander shook his head reminiscently. "She defended me against the school bully."

Laughing, Richie settled himself on the floor next to Xander, far enough away to be outside his personal pace, but near enough to encourage the younger man to open up. "And she didn't set off that, 'I'm a boy and you can't do that,' huff?"

Xander grimaced, but relaxed against the wall. "No, that didn't happen until Buffy defended me against the *high school* bully."

"Ouch!" Richie exclaimed, wincing in sympathy. "And just how long did it take for the taunts from *that* to stop?"

"Until Larry, the bully she protected me from, the captain of the football team, openly admitted he was gay," Xander confessed wryly.

"That would do it," Richie replied, snickering quietly.

After several long moments Xander dropped his head, speaking softly. "How do you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Survive with all *this* hanging over your head."

"One day at a time," Richie replied honestly. "As cliche as that sounds, it's true. How do *you* survive doing what you do here?"

"Same way," Xander admitted, "but this is different."

"Yeah," Richie nodded, thinking he understood what Xander was trying to say -- hoping he did. "This demon fighting stuff; you know that if it really gets to be to much, and you can't handle it, you can walk away . . . at least that's what you tell yourself."

Xander nodded quickly, looking relieved. "Yes, that's it exactly. This Immortal business, it's gonna be with me no matter where I go. If I feel like I'm drowning, and there's nowhere I can go to get away from it."

"Actually," Richie disagreed, "there are places you can go to 'get away from it' as you say -- at least temporarily."

"How?!"

"Many Immortals retreat to Holy Ground."

Smirking, Xander shook his head. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a priest . . . or a monk."

"I haven't met too many teenage guys who are -- myself included," Richie laughed, "but you don't have to be one of those to go to ground -- so to speak. My teacher has an entire island that's Holy Ground."

"Really?" Xander asked in surprise.

"Yep, really. About a hundred years ago, or so, he got permission from the Indians it belonged to, to build a cabin there. Now, he goes there every so often just to get away from it all."

"Wow."

"I'm strictly a city guy, myself, but I've been there a couple of times, and it's pretty cool. I wouldn't want to *live* there, mind you -- no electricity."

Xander laughed. "I could handle that."

"I think you could, and can, handle just about anything you set your mind to," Richie offered quietly.

"Really?" Xander asked hopefully. "I'm not so sure."

"I am. You're in good shape. You look like you're pretty strong."

"I work construction."

"Well, then, I'd guess appearances probably aren't deceiving," Richie replied, smiling slightly. He just hoped he was saying the right things. Not that everything he'd said wasn't true, he just knew that even the truth had to be said a certain way to be believed.

"Guess not."

"And besides all that, anyone who can face childhood terrors and nightmares turned real on a daily basis can handle anything life throws at him." Richie sighed when Xander still didn't looked convinced. "Listen, I had never even handled a sword before I was 17, and scary as this all is, I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll know how to defend yourself -- at least."

"Will that be enough?"

"No," Richie answered bluntly. "Even I don't know all I need to know, but you'll have other teachers, other Immortals who can teach you more than I can."

"That doesn't sound too encouraging," Xander said sourly.

Richie blew out a quick breath. "I'll never lie to you, Xander. I know how to use a sword. as far as mortal standards go, I'd probably be considered an expert at it. By Immortal standards--" Richie shrugged. "--I'm good for my age; I had an excellent teacher, but I've got no delusions about being the best -- or even competing in that league. I can promise you only this. I will not quit teaching you until I'm certain I can't teach you anything more, or you find someone better -- that *I* trust."

"That helps," Xander admitted softly, then cocked his head. "Do you know many Immortals?"

"With *my* teacher," Richie rolled his eyes, "it'd be impossible not to."

"Do you trust many of them?"

"No," Richie returned frankly, "in fact, I'd say that I trust only four not to try and kill me just for my quickening. Doesn't mean I'd go anywhere, even with them, without my sword, though. As Adam will tell you -- and tell you -- trusting Immortals is *not* a long term survival trait."

"You hungry?" Xander asked brightly, jumping up suddenly, and Richie recognized the abrupt subject change for what it was. Xander didn't want to think about it any more tonight.

"Yes, actually, I'm pretty much always hungry." While Richie could understand Xander's desire to forget it all for a while, he had one more thing to say before they quit. "Just one thing; until we get you your own sword, don't go *anywhere* without me. Once we do, at least until you learn a few things, don't go anywhere alone, and even then, stick to populated, public places, okay?"

Xander nodded enthusiastically. "Hadn't planned on doing anything differently," he admitted sheepishly.

"Of course, there's still the possibility of running into another Immortal without me around. If you do, and there aren't enough people around, run. Don't try to brave it out. Being brave, especially right now, will just get you dead -- permanently dead. Get to Holy Ground, or me, whichever is quickest." Richie watched Xander nod in agreement, eyes rolling, and he suddenly understood how Mac must have felt when *he* put himself in danger. It sent shivers down his spine to think of Xander facing some Immortal. He'd just met the guy, and already he felt responsible for his safety.

"Let's go see what Angel has to eat." Xander shuddered. "Besides the obvious."

*****

"Oh!," Xander moaned. "I don't think I could eat another bite."

Richie chuckled in agreement. "Me either," he replied, glancing with a grimace around the kitchen. "I suppose we should clean up the mess we made before going to bed, though."

"But, *Da-ad*! I don't wanna," Xander whined, unable to keep the grin completely off his face.

"That sounds about right," Buffy said, appearing suddenly in the doorway, then, wearing a crooked grin, eyed Richie up and down. "But, man, you must have started young."

Snickering, the three of them companionably cleaned the mess the two young men had made in their quest for food. Buffy and Richie falling into chairs as they finished.

"Well," Xander said, "I don't know about anyone else, but *I'm* going to bed. Six AM comes early, and I've got to work in the morning."

"No you don't," Richie retorted firmly.

"Excuse me?" Xander exclaimed incredulously. "And just who are you to tell me I can't go to work?"

Richie rose slowly, stalking toward Xander menacingly. "I'm the teacher that's going to keep you alive long enough to learn how to defend yourself," he admonished. "And I'm turning into Mac as I say this, but I can't protect you at a construction site, especially since I have to look out for Spike as well."

Xander wilted a bit, but rallied quickly. "Oh, I can just see it. 'Hey, Boss, I died last night, so I can't come in to work.' That's going to go over *real* well. Gives a whole new spin on the 'a relative died' excuse."

Richie shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You came down with the flu," he ordered flatly. "And," he continued, "I hope I don't have to remind you how important it is to keep your Immortality a secret."

Xander shook his head, just as Buffy stood suddenly.

"What?" he asked.

"What are you going to tell Anya when she gets back?"

"Oh, God!" Xander groaned. "I haven't even thought of her since I found out!"

"Who's Anya?"

"My girlfriend."

"Is it serious?"

Xander shrugged. "It's getting there," he replied, turning back to face Buffy. "What the hell am I going to tell her?"

Buffy shrugged. "No way! I am *so* not getting in the middle of this one, Xander -- sorry."

"You shouldn't tell her -- unless you're really sure about her." Richie paused "I mean both about how she'll handle the Immortality deal, but also about spending your life with her. You don't tell *every* girl you end up with."

Xander shook his head. "Oh, no, I've got to tell her. My tail would be in so deep if I didn't fess up right away, it would never see the light of day," he objected, shuddering.

"It *is* your decision," Richie reluctantly admitted, "but just remember to factor in one more thing before you make it."

"What's that?"

"Will she keep the secret?"

"That," Xander and Buffy said together, "won't be a problem."

Richie's eyes widened at the dual emphatic agreement. "You seem sure about that."

"We are," they replied, again together.

"I just don't know *how* to tell her," Xander continued. "I . . . don't think she's gonna like it." Shoulders slumped, Xander headed out of the kitchen.

"You're going to call in, right?" Richie called out to Xander's retreating back. He really wanted to say more, but figured the girlfriend issue really was Xander's call -- that and he didn't want to alienate his new student quite this quickly.

"Yes," Xander snapped, "I'm going to call in."

After Xander left, Buffy turned to Richie. "He's going to be all right," she asked hopefully, "isn't he?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah. It'll take some time, but he'll adapt." He grinned, stepping closer to her. "Can I ask you something?"

Buffy nodded.

"How do *you* think Anya will take this?"

"If he tells her right away, she'll deal. She may not like it, but she'll deal."

He glanced at the empty doorway before continuing. "She'd really freak if he waited, huh?"

"Let's put it this way. Immortals aren't the only ones with secrets. She's an ex-vengeance demon."

"He's dating a *demon*?" Richie yelped.

Buffy laughed. "Ex-demon; it's a long story."

"*Yeah*, I just bet it is!"

"Um," Richie asked after a moment, "just what is a *vengeance* demon -- beyond the obvious, I mean."