Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Twenty-Four
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Joe reluctantly watched as Methos -- and no, he couldn't get used to thinking of that *blond* as Methos -- and Richie headed out with the others to perform the spell to switch them back. They'd told him what had happened, but he still wasn't sure he believed it. He could believe the vampire thing far more readily. They'd shown him proof that the blond was not . . . normal -- certainly that he was different -- *very* different. He could see no reason they'd lie to him about something like this; it was simply too unbelievable to be a joke. Unfortunately, it was also too unbelievable to be real.

He would have liked to go and see this supposed spell, but if they really *were* going to do a full 're-enactment' like they'd claimed, it was just as well he wasn't going along. **I could always ask them to show me a spell later -- make 'em prove it all,** Joe mused, turning back to face those who'd stayed.

"So," he drawled, "we just sit here and wait?"

"Basically," Buffy replied, nodding. "I've already run early patrol -- thank goodness. I don't think I could concentrate waiting to find out the results."

"Patrol?" Joe asked.

"Are you sure you didn't discover anything while you were out tonight," Xander interrupted.

Buffy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Xander, but no. The . . . *gangs* are all silent. We didn't even find a single *gang* member to question."

"You're a vigilante group?" Joe exclaimed. **What the hell is Methos doing involved with this group? Has he gone insane?** Richie, Joe could understand. The kid was still young and idealistic -- but Methos? And how the hell did that Spike fella fit into this?

"No!" Xander exclaimed on top of Buffy's "Kind of," and Angel's "It's complicated."

The three youngsters exchanged sheepish looks, setting off all of Joe's suspicions. "And just what is Richie's involvement in this?"

"He's a friend," Buffy replied huffily. She obviously hadn't cared for his tone.

**Well, tough shit, little girl.** "With a vampire and a bunch of vigilantes? How long before you're all arrested?" Joe asked, his outrage growing. "Do you realize how dangerous it is if an Immortal gets jailed?"

"They told you about vampires, too?" Buffy and Angel asked in unison.

"Yeah, they did. They used it as a reason to believe all the other hogwash they were throwing my way."

"But nothing about me or Angel?" Buffy asked, leaning forward intently.

Joe shook his head warily. "No," he replied, "nothing about the two of you. So, how about coming clean?"

The young girl glanced toward Angel. To Joe's experienced eye, and much to his surprise, it looked as though she were seeking permission. Up until this moment, Joe would have bet an awful lot of money that Angel wasn't in charge of anything here.

Some unspoken communication passed between the two, and Buffy turned back to face him. "I'm the vampire slayer," she said.

"You?" Joe asked incredulously, laughing at the image of this petite blonde girl fighting the vampires of legend. It was a ludicrous mental picture. They'd eat her for breakfast . . . literally.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Angel offered quietly. "Someone as acquainted with Immortals as you seem to be should realize that."

Joe returned his attention to the man who had remained silent for most of the evening, wrestling his amusement under control. "You have a point," he admitted. "Please continue."

"Once every generation, a slayer is chosen. She alone. . . ."

*****

Methos fought the urge to roll his eyes, for about the fourth time since leaving the mansion. Spike was acting ridiculously. He was like some teenage boy on a sugar and caffeine high, jumping around and trading barbed insults with anyone who'd rise to the bait. Unfortunately, Richie kept doing so. The noise, the rising emotions, all of it, combined to test his resolve not to give in to the increasingly violent demands of the demon he shared this body with.

"Children!" Methos snapped, at the complete end of his patience. He would be *so* glad when this was finished. He needed a vacation from his so-called vacation. The entire group stared at him in shoc wit with the glaring exception of Rupert Giles, who wasn't looking at him at all.

"You okay, Adam?" Richie asked, a worried frown pulling down his mouth.

Methos sighed, then took a slow, deep breath and held it, counting slowly to ten. "Yeah, just . . . could you guys key it down just a little?" he asked hopefully. Maybe then he'd get through this evening without biting someone's head off -- literally, or at least trying to.

"Sure," Richie shrugged. "I know you're a little tense about this whole spell thing, Adam, but I'd have thought you'd be at least a little excited about it," he continued in confusion.

"I am, actually," Methos replied slowly. "It's just that--"

"It's the demon," Spike interrupted, "isn't it?"

Methos nodded. "Yes."

Spike nodded. "Figures. A vampiric demon is excited by only a few things. Your excitement would be setting off the demonic instincts."

Richie frowned and looked questioningly at Spike. "What do you mean?"

Giles, Methos noted, didn't say anything, but suddenly his entire attention was focused on the ex-vampire.

Spike, glorying in being the center of attention, held up his fingers one at a time as he counted off reasons. "Violence, sex, blood -- not necessarily in that order," he replied cockily.

To Methos' amusement, Giles shook his head and turned away. Evidently that wasn't anything he didn't already know.

Richie's eyes widened. "That's it?" he asked in surprise. "Nothing else excites a vampire?"

"Not generally, no. There is the rare exception, of course."

"Dull," Richie replied, disappointment flattening his tone.

Before anyone could reply, however, both Richie and Spike stiffened. Spike winced, raising a hand to his temple.

Methos swore sily. y. **Not now!**

He grabbed Spike's arm, pulling him toward the center of their group. Spike frowned at him and pulled away.

"Well, well, what an odd looking group we have here," came a voice from out of the darkness.

Methos turned the direction it came from, noting that both Richie and Spike had done the same. Well, everyone had, actually, but it was Richie and Spike he was concerned about at the moment. He frowned, he couldn't see anyone there, though he could hear the Immortal breathing. **That's handy,** he thought irrelevantly.

"Who's there?" Richie called out. "Step out where we can see you."

"I'm not interested in you, Boy. I'm interested in your friend. It's him I'm here to challenge."

**Fuck!** Methos swore silently.

"Well, I guess you're just out of luck," Richie replied, standing his ground. "He's not accepting challenges today."

The shadowed voice chuckled. "And who are you to be speaking for him? His teacher? Aren't you a little young?"

Richie shrugged, letting the man make of the gesture what he would. "Giles, get everyone back home," he said quietly, yet firmly, lookingewhaewhat surprised when Giles simply nodded and began urging Tara and Willow back the way they'd all come.

Giles looked to Adam questioningly, casting a quick glance at Spike. Methos nodded back. Yeah, he'd get Spike to go too.

"Look, you didn't come for me. I don't have a grudge with you . . . as far as I know. But you're not getting to him without going through me first. Why don't we just go our separate ways for now," Richie suggested calmly.

Methos grabbed Spike's arm, again pulling him insistently backward.

Spike glared at him, but reluctantly followed, walking backward so as to keep an eye on the possible fight. "I want to stay," he hissed angrily. "If he's gonna fight the guy--"

"Because, if we get you out of here before the fight starts, he may not have to," Methos snapped back as quietly as his growing irritation would allow. Part of him wanted to go back and tear the interloping Immortal apart limb from limb. That part would be almost as happy to simply stay and watch the blood shed. It was a part of himself that he was steadfastly ignoring -- well, trying to anyway. However, the effort it took made him irritable, and Spike's reluctance wasn't helping.

"Oh, all right!" Spike finally muttered, spinning on one heel and stomping off after Giles and the witches.

"Have it your way," Richie said behind him.

Methos snapped his head over his shoulder -- wishing he'd heard the comment Richie's was in reply to -- just in time to see both Immortals draw steel. Cursing and thrilling at the same time, Methos forced himself to turn away, wishing he'd brought his gun with him. He'd known it was stupid to let the others talk him out of it, but he'd done so. Now he doubted they could get back to the mansion in time for him to collect it and do any good with it.

He just hoped that Richie would survive this challenge. His gut tightened ominously. He sure as hell didn't want to tell Joe that Richie died to protect him. Somehow, Methos just didn't think it was an equitable trade. He didn't think Joe would either.

The sound of steel on steel spurred him forward, and Methos broke into a sprint. He may not have time to get his 9mil, but he sure as hell might have time to get to Angel or Cordelia's cell phone. The police could interrupt this fight just as well as the last one they'd interrupted by his design.

He just hoped that Richie would be a mite less pissed at him for doing it. Not that he *really* cared about that; Richie would get over it, just like MacLeod had, because he'd be alive to do so.

"Giles," he called out, when he'd caught up to them. "You don't happen to have a cell phone do you?"

Giles looked at him oddly. "No, sorry, I don't."

Willow giggled, despite the obvious concern on her face. "He doesn't, but I do," she said, pulling it out.

"Thanks," he said, taking it and quickly dialing.

"911. What's your emergency?"

No one noticed the furtive shadow that slipped further into the hidden recesses of the trees as they walked away. A grin on his face, Ricardo Martin found a good hiding place and settled in to watch the two Immortals fight. For Joe's sake, he hoped the Richard Ryan would win this one. If he was right about the opposing Immortal, he was a mean son-of-a-bitch. He'd also really hate to see the bastard go after a new Immortal like Adam.

Ricardo couldn't keep his grin from growing, despite his worry about his assignment, and for Adam. He'd found a new Immortal. Not every field agent got the chance to report that. Even fewer got the chance to report a former *Watcher* had become an Immortal. He was going to be famous.

He frowned. That was, unless Joe was finding out about it now and beat him to the punch. He really liked the old guy, but *he* wanted this plum, and now he was torn between staying to watch the end of the fight and leaving now to report his find.

With a heartfelt sigh, Ricardo sided with his responsibilities and stayed to Watch the fight. If he left and Richard Ryan died, and he couldn't report what had happened. . . .

*****

Everyone jumped as the front door slammed open, they raced as a group toward the entry way, each, in his own way, preparing for a fight. No one present had forgotten the demons that wanted to get hold of Xander.

They all skidded to a confused halt, staring in surprise as they saw who it was.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed, jumping forward at the worried frown she saw on his face. "What happened?" She quickly searched the group, her eyes widening in sudden horror. "Where's Richie?"

"A challenge," Adam replied flatly.

"A challenge?" she repeated faintly, lunging for the door even before the words finished leaving her mouth.

Adam grabbed her arm, wrenching her around. She punched, landing a solid blow across his jaw, and sending him to the ground with the unexpected blow. Unfortunately, he didn't let go of her on his way down and she went with him, landing with an 'oomph' squarely on top of him.

"Let go of me!" she shouted.

"You can't interfere," Adam replied firmly, not letting go. "Besides, I already called the police," he continued a smirk blooming across his face. "They'll be there before you could get there, anyway."BuffBuffy smiled. "Isn't that *interfering*?" she asked facetiously.

Below her, Adam shrugged, his smirk firmly in place.

"I like you," Buffy declared suddenly, slapping the Immortal turned vampire on the shoulder, then offering him her hand as she stood. "You think like I do."

Pulling him to his feet after he accepted her assistance, Buffy glanced worriedly toward the door. "There's only one problem with your plan," she said, turning back toward him.

"What's that?"

"The police in this town are criminally stupid," she said, once again heading toward the door. "Angel, you coming?"

"Right behind you," he said softly.

Adam muttered behind her too quietly for her to hear what he said, but she grinned when he followed her to the door as well. What surprised her, was both Doyle and Cordelia joined the group. She'd been sure Doyle couldn't stand her, though she couldn't figure out why. Maybe he was putting aside that dislike because he liked Richie.

She shrugged. She could figure it out later; it didn't really matter right now. She strode out the front door, stopping only long enough to grab her weapons bag. It had everything she could possibly need.

She gasped as she stepped out onto the driveway. A lone figure stumbled toward them. Letting go of a short squeak, and dropping her bag onto the ground, she raced forward. It was Richie, and he was hurt -- hurt badly by the look of the way he was walking.

He smiled when he saw her, but groaned when she slipped an arm around his waist and tried to help support him. He tried to pull away, but she kept her arm firmly in place.

"You need help, Richie. Let me, please?"

In her arms, Richie hesitated briefly then nodded once. She smiled and they once again began moving forward.

Adam slipped to his other side, mirroring her, but when Adam moved to support him, Richie groaned again, shaking his head.

"Overload, M-Adam," Richie whispered hoarsely. "Please don't."

Buffy was surprised at the raw tone in Richie's voice, but even more so when Adam simply nodded and moved away. **Overload?** she thought. **What on Earth does that mean?**

"You don't look so good," she said, as she eased Richie down onto the fireplace hearth.

"Yeah, but you should see the other guy," Richie quipped, tossing out the standard response. Groaning and leaning forward, Richie wrapped an arm firmly across his abdomen.

"You're not suppose to let them stab you," Adam said quietly, watching from halfway across the room.

Richie glared at him. "It's not as if I spread my arms out to the side and said 'have at me,' you know. Well, not exactly anyway."

Buffy blinked. **Huh?** "What do you mean 'not exactly'?" she demanded suspiciously.

Across the room Adam took a step forward his frowning expression asking the exact same thing.

Richie sighed and eased himself back against the wall. "I was losing," he said shortly. "I knew I had to do something, and do it fast." He stopped, taking several slow shallow breaths. "I began noticing a certain series of movements he made. If they'd worked the way he wanted them to, they would have succeeded, but would have left him open. I took advantage of that."

"And got yourself nearly gutted in the process," Joe retorted angrily. "How could you have taken that kind of risk?"

Richie raised his head to look directly at his friend, and Buffy couldn't believe the expression she saw reflected in his blue eyes -- relieved disbelief along with a touch of terror. "I was dead if I didn't Joe. It was *that* close to the end. He was *that* good. Much better than me. I got lucky. I think he was better, even, than Mac."

Buffy tore her eyes away from Richie to look at the others. She may not know this Mac, the Immortal who'd been Richie's teacher, but from what he'd already told her, that was one hell of a compliment to his opponent. Both Joe and Adam's looks reflected the horror she felt, and silence descended on the room. It was quickly broken by Cordeliowevowever, when she hurried forward.

"Let me see that wound, Richard. I should be able to help, until it heals."

"No!" Richie shouted, his voice cracking on the single syllable.

Cordelia jerked backward, hurt plain on her face.

"I'm sorry, Cordelia," he said instantly. "It'll heal fine, I promise and it's just that--"

"I'll explain it, Rich," Adam offered softly. "Why don't you go up and take a shower?"

Richie sighed in relief, and nodded before rising to his feet, then stopped. "But what about the spell?"

Adam winced, then apparently shrugged off his disappointment. "We wait."

Nodding once more, Richie headed toward the stairs.

To Buffy's relief he was already moving better, though it was obvious he was still in pain.

Everyone watched him limp from the room, not moving until he disappeared from sight. Then, nine pairs of eyes turned to face Adam.

"So," Buffy said impatiently, "explain."


TBC