Immortal Knight

I know some people have said that being immortal would mean that Xander’s eye would have come back, but this is my world and I’m making it so it didn’t. I think that immortals can heal any wound but I never saw one regenerate a missing body part, (like when Xavier St Cloud had his hand cut off) and I think that Caleb actually destroyed the eye, so it wouldn’t grow back.

This chapter is going to be a series of scenes covering all the important things that happened during Xander’s time training with Methos. I’m not going to cover the whole six months in detail, as I figure nobody wants to read about all the sword waving and sit-ups. But I will try to convey the changes Xander goes through, and his relationship with Methos.

Xander sank gratefully into the chair in Cassandra’s kitchen. He’d been training with Methos for almost a month and it wasn’t getting any easier. He’d never been this fit in his life, the extra pounds he’d piled on during the last days in Sunnyhell were long gone; and he was sporting an impressive set of muscles. Every inch of him ached, at the end of each day he felt like his arms were going to drop off, Methos was working him so hard. And the nifty healing factor meant he woke up refreshed every day, so had no excuse to take any time off to recover.


When they weren’t actually fighting, Methos had been trying to teach him strategy. He’d actually said that Xander had a good basic grasp of tactics, which was quite a compliment, considering the source. But when he’d been explaining about some of the old Sunnydale battles, Methos had gone off into a rant about Bloody over-grown boy-scouts, who come without a sense of self-preservation.


But Xander still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to be enough. He’d know idea why the Powers thought he should be able to take out Terathyne. He remembered all too well, how Buffy had barely been able to lay a finger on Glory; and by all accounts this particular monster was even more powerful. Super healing was all very well, but Xander would have been a lot happier if super strength came along with it.


Cass and Methos never actually said it, but he was sure that they were just as worried as he was. They tried so hard to be encouraging, but their eyes showed a different story; as did the long hours they both spent researching. Desperately looking for something that would give them some kind of edge, when the battle finally came.


That’s where Methos was today, off tracking down some rare book, that Cass thought might help. Whilst Xander appreciated having a little free time to spend with Cass, it also meant his mind was free to dwell on some things that had been making him increasingly uncomfortable.


He liked Methos, liked his stubborn sarcastic nature. Liked the way he always said exactly what was on his mind, something that reminded Xander all too much of Anya and Cordelia. And therein lay the problem, because Xander had started to think he might really like Methos; and that scared him almost as much as taking on a god. Their sparring sessions were starting to become tortuous. He was hyper aware of Methos’ touch; and when one of their fights had ended with him flat on the floor, held down by the weight of the older man’s body, he’d started to get hard.


He’d scrambled away so fast, he almost got whiplash. Methos never said a word about it, though he knew the other man must have felt him. Sometimes though, he thought he saw a certain assessing look in Methos’ eye, a look of desire that both tempted and terrified him. So here he was sitting in Cassandra’s kitchen, trying to figure out a way to talk to her about this without dying of embarrassment.


They’d grown closer over the weeks, and she had a tendency to mother him, it was nice having somebody worry about him. But it could be downright un-nerving, the way she could sometimes read him like an open book. Right now she was staring at him, waiting him out, knowing that sooner or later he’d crack and spill whatever was worrying him.


“How do you know if you’re gay?” A little blunter than he’d intended, but he figured if he was going through some early mid-life crisis, then he might as well share it. He could have done without the chuckle and amused grin his question had caused, especially as Cassandra didn’t actually say anything. Just stood waiting for him to explain what was going through his head.


So Xander tried to tell her what was going through his mind. Between stammers and blushes he admitted how his feelings for Methos were changing, and how he really wasn’t coping well with the idea.


When he was done, she looked at him for a second, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Sometimes I forget how young you really are.” When Xander made to object she hushed him and continued. “This idea of putting labels on how you feel is such a modern thing. There have been times in history when homosexuality was illegal, but equally there have been times when it was considered to be the norm. There have even been times when it was actively encouraged.


When you’ve been around as long as Methos and I have you’ve probably seen them all. We learnt a long time ago to look at the person, not the gender. What you really need to figure out is what you want, how you feel about Methos.”


“Plumbing!” At Cassandra’s bemused look, Xander explained. “I had this friend once, she said that it was about falling in love with a person. That if it felt right then the plumbing didn’t count.”


“Do you think you love Methos?” Cassandra seemed a little worried by the idea.


Xander thought for a moment, he’d been so busy freaking about the idea of sex with another man, that he’d not really taken time to examine the depths of his feelings. “No, I care for him. Being around him makes me feel good. I suppose I’m drawn to him, but it’s not love.”


They’d talked for hours after that, and by the time they were done Xander felt that he knew what he wanted. Cassandra had a way of seeing past his masks to the man underneath; and whilst that was a little scary, it meant she knew him well. She coaxed him into looking deeper inside himself for answers and she challenged him to stop hiding his real self.


After a few nights of intense dreams, which had left Xander hard and panting every morning when he woke, he once again found himself flat on the floor, with Methos’ lean form pressed against him. This time he didn’t pull away, he just let the desire build and waited to see how the older man would react.


Methos had asked him if he was sure, and Xander somehow found the right words to convince the other man he knew what he was doing. And Methos seemed to take him at his words, leaning in and pressing their lips together. They didn’t rush things, that first night they did little more than kiss. But as time went on, Xander grew bolder and one night he asked Methos to take him. It wasn’t all plain sailing; despite his bravado, Xander was still a little scared.


But Methos was patient with his new lover, letting Xander see a side of him that the ancient Immortal usually kept hidden. There were soft touches and sweet kisses, and when Methos finally slipped inside him, all Xander could feel was need. The first quick pain obliterated by his desperate desire for release. It wasn’t love between them, but it was close enough to help chase Xander’s nightmares and fears away.


******************************


They settled into a routine, long days of training and long nights of sex. Xander turned out to be an enthusiastic student on both fronts, but Methos was still worried. Simple fighting skill wasn’t going to be enough, and Xander still had a distressing tendency to be ruled by his emotions. He acted without thought, letting anger or worry over-ride his common sense.


A few days ago the younger man had stormed back into the house with bruised knuckles and an angry gleam in his eye. He’d been having lunch at Joe’s and Macleod had been there. It seemed the Highlander had finally figured out that Xander and Methos were together; and whilst Methos agreed that Mac could be, “A judgemental, condescending prick. Xander should definitely have handled the situation better.


Macleod was already convinced that Methos was corrupting the young immortal, and by reacting the way he had, Xander had only re-enforced his opinion. Methos had long since come to term with the fact that Macleod disapproved of him. The Highlander was one of those Immortals who seemed unwilling to embrace the modern world, clinging stubbornly to the morals and beliefs of his youth.


Annoying as it was, there was no changing the man, all Xander had done was convince him that he was right. So now they’d probably have to put up with the Highlander’s well-meaning interference, as he tried to convince Xander of the errors of his ways. Mac had long since given up trying to redeem Methos, but would almost certainly continue to try and rescue Xander from his un-wholesome influence.


If Xander’s actions with Macleod had been worrying, the events of the following night were far scarier. They’d been on their way home from Cassandra’s; enjoying a leisurely stroll through the city. When a piercing scream had sounded from a near-by alley, it had taken them both by surprise. Before Methos could think, Xander was moving. Pulling his sword from his coat and making a dash for the alley.


Methos followed and watched horrified as Xander took on the demon that was attacking a young girl. It wasn’t that Xander was outclassed, if he’d thought his student was in any danger of losing, then Methos would have stepped in. No it was the way Xander fought that had him so worried.


Every move the younger man made was about protecting the girl; it was obvious that she was his priority. His own safety didn’t seem to matter to him, just so long as he could keep the monster away from his victim. Xander had won easily that night, but Methos now realised he had so much more work to do.


Xander had to learn to protect himself, had to accept that it was perfectly okay to show a little self-preservation. He was damned if he was going to let the boy die, just because he didn’t think his own life was important.


The trouble was, there was only one way Methos could think of, that would get the job done right. He was almost sure it would work, but it was a path he always sworn he’d never go down again. If he did this, there was a very real chance he’d alienate the friends he’d made here in Seacouver. Cassandra especially would never forgive him.

********************

Methos let himself stew for a few days before broaching the subject with Xander. They’d had a long discussion, or screaming fight, about the way Xander had acted and it was time to move things on.


“I know you’re sick of hearing it, but you really need to understand why I was so angry with you. Xander if you had died in that alley, then who would be there to stop Terathyne? Do you really think it would have done any good for you to die saving some stranger, when she and everybody else in the world would be dead a few weeks later?”


For once Xander thought before he answered, “I know you’re right, up here in my head. It’s just…….” His voice trailed off as he tried to explain.


“Just that you don’t actually stop and use that head of yours. You rush in blindly and that’s got to stop.”


Xander knew how much was depending on him, but he didn’t have the first clue how to change something so fundamental about himself. If somebody was in trouble, he rushed in. All his life he’d led with his heart rather than his head, and learning to change that basic instinct was proving impossible. Though it seemed as though Methos might have an idea.


He listened with growing fear as his lover outlined his idea. He talked about the tattoo that Xander had seen on Cassandra’s stomach, of how it was part of a mystical link. He confessed that it was part of what he’d used to break the woman when she was his slave. Now he wanted to try the same thing with Xander.


“So this would like control me or something? ‘Cos I got to tell you I’m not real fond of that idea. With your sense of humour I’ll probably wind up doing something horribly embarrassing in Joe’s one night.” Xander tried to disguise his unease with his usual flippancy, though he knew he had little chance of fooling the older man.


“As amusing an idea as that is, no. I wouldn’t be able to force you that way. The bond would mean that you’d feel me, feel my reactions in your head. So if you pulled one of your usual stunts, you’d know first hand exactly how pissed off I was; and believe me it’d be no picnic for you.”


“So you really think that’d work, I mean I already get the whole disapproval thing, been getting it all my life.”


“The rest of the bond would cover that, for it to work properly you’d have to agree to obey me for the duration of your training.”


This wasn’t sounding any better to Xander, “See there’s another problem, I’ve never been all that good at the whole obeying thing.”


“Yes well perhaps you never really had to face the consequences of your actions before. Believe me after a while you’ll start thinking, if only to avoid the punishments.”

Methos’ voice was matter of fact as he spoke. But the very word punishment sent a shiver down Xander’s back. He’d never been more aware of Methos’ history than he was right now. He really didn’t care to think what the older man could come up with as a punishment. But knew that his sub-conscious would probably be supplying him with gory ideas for many nights to come.


But there had been something else there, something the older man had tried to hide. “You don’t want to do this, do you?” The small frown on his lover’s face let Xander know he was right.


“No, if there was another way I’d take it. But honestly I’ve run out of ideas. This takes me back to a part of my history I’m not exactly proud of, and I’m not anxious to relive it.”


If anything, that reluctance made the whole idea a little less scary for Xander. He still wasn’t comfortable with the plan, but now he was willing to consider it. Like Methos, he knew they were running out of time and ideas.

Methos didn’t push for an answer; didn’t try to force Xander to make a decision. They talked about it again and again over the next few days. The older man even took Xander to meet with a mage he knew, so that he could hear about the mystical side from someone else. The link that would form between them would actually work both ways to a certain extent. They’d become an almost constant presence in each other’s minds. Methos hoped that he’d be able to use the bond to give Xander the benefit of all his long years of survival; something he just didn’t have time to learn the regular way.


Xander didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but he knew something had to change. Cassandra was looking increasingly worried about what was to come. The date of the gathering was growing ever closer, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready. So he swallowed all his misgivings and told Methos to go ahead and ask the mage to come and forge the link.

******************************

At first nothing really seemed to change, Xander easily adjusted to feeling Methos in the back of his mind. He even began to find it vaguely comforting, and their sex life certainly benefited. Having a lover who could tell exactly what you were feeling was a wondrous thing.


Then Xander screwed up for the first time, letting Macleod goad him into yet another fight. It hit him like a brick to the head; Methos comforting presence was transformed into an oppressive weight. It seemed to push everything else aside, his anger at the Highlander gone in an instant. As the feelings of anger and disappointment swept through his mind, all he wanted was to make it right. He’d do anything Methos wanted; endure any punishment to make things right between them.


All the way home, he tortured himself with visions of what Methos would do to him. He imagined whips and chains and broken bones. Could see himself screaming and begging for relief. He didn’t imagine the hours he got to spend digging holes in the garden only to fill them straight back in and dig them over again. He didn’t imagine long hours on his knees scrubbing every inch of their floors, or sitting at a desk writing lines like some recalcitrant schoolboy. But that was what he got, along with endless lectures and time spent standing in the corner of the living room, nose to wall like a naughty child.


The punishments Methos devised for him were repetitive and boring. Leaving him with nothing to do but think of what he’d done wrong. He didn’t see it himself, but they were working, every day he learned to hold onto his temper a little longer, and he started to consider what he was doing before he acted.


The only time Methos used a remotely physical punishment, was when Xander swore at Cassandra during one of their arguments about the Powers. When they got home that day Methos manhandled him into the bathroom, and literally washed his mouth out with soap. Not that Xander wasn’t grateful to realise he wasn’t going to be beaten black and blue, but he didn’t really understand why Methos was doing things this way.


So one night when they were curled up on the sofa he asked, only to wish he hadn’t when he saw how upset the question seemed to make his lover.


“When I did this before there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do. If I still thought that way, I’d make you scream and bleed every day. I’d use sex as reward and punishment, take from you whether you were willing or not.


I’m not that man any more. I won’t go back to that, won’t become that monster. Not for any reason.


This…us…it’s separate, nothing to do with the things I’m teaching you. The day I cross that line is the day I walk away.”


Methos seemed so sad, so lost, and Xander knew that nothing he could say would help right now. So he did the only thing he could think of, he opened up the bond as wide as it would go and let all his feelings of affection and love wash over them both. Then he wrapped his arms tight around his lover and held him through the long night.

******************************

Eventually it happened again, another scream coming out of nowhere, another monster in another alley. The result was the same, dead demon and grateful victim, but everything else had changed.


Methos watched in approval as Xander fought, pleased to see him taking a moment to see what he was facing before he moved into the alley. Xander fought well, quick economic movements, keeping the demon off balance. But more importantly, he didn’t fling himself between monster and girl, didn’t disregard his own safety in favour of hers.


When they’d seen her safely off, Methos turned to praise his lover only to watch him walk out of the alley without a word. His shoulders slumped and eye haunted. The only thing Methos could pick up over the bond was an overwhelming sense of loss and sadness. When they got back to the house it was no better and he had to watch in frustration as Xander brooded in a corner. Just when he’d been about to demand that Xander tell him what the hell was going on, his lover spoke up.

“I didn’t really understand. I knew what you were trying to teach me, but I thought it’d be temporary. I honestly thought that when all this was over; we’d be able to break the bond and I’d go back to being me.


In that alley tonight, I finally figured out it’d worked. I still wanted to save her, but I wouldn’t have been willing to die to do it. It wasn’t that I stopped to think about it, because you know what, I didn’t.


You didn’t change the way I think, you changed my instincts. As much as I wanted to help her, I wanted to live more.


And there’s no going back is there? That person who I used to be is gone now, and I don’t have the first clue who I’ve become.”


There was nothing Methos could say to make things right, everything Xander had said was true. He had what he’d wanted, Xander had turned into the fighter he was going to have to be to beat Terathyne. But as he watched the dejected boy walk away from him, Methos couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. He was scared that he’d damaged Xander so badly, that the younger man would never regain that love of life that drew everyone to him. As he prepared to spend the first night in a long time alone, he could only hope that he hadn’t gone too far.


On the surface things got better, it was only a couple of nights before Xander returned to his bed. But it was a different Xander, one who was too quiet, too careful and Methos hated himself a little more each day.


He rejoiced when Amanda showed up on one of her periodic ‘taunt the Highlander’ visits. Not only would she be invaluable to their plans; but she also took an instant liking to Xander. Coaxing him out of the shell he’d retreated to and getting him involved with all her schemes and pranks.


Methos was so happy to see some of the sparkle back in his lover’s eyes, that he turned a blind eye to all but their most outrageous stunts. She was the only one who’d seen Xander’s tattoo, but Methos used a combination of blackmail and bribery to make sure she kept her mouth shut around the others. It didn’t stop her from teasing Xander unmercifully, but at least it made sure that Cassandra would not find out what they’d done.


Eventually they all decided that there was nothing left for them to do. No more preparations for them to make, nothing left for them to teach Xander. So they had one last party at Joe’s, packed up their things and headed for LA. Next stop Wolfram and Hart.


tbc….


that’s the last of the backstory/flashbacks, so in the next chapter you can expect actual plot.