Buffy X-overs 1. Max and Logan

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together

Rating: PG 13 for now

Author: Specks

Disclamer: Mutant Enemy, Fox and all those network honchos and writers own all, I own nothing, don't sue.

Synopsis: Buffy/ Dark Angel crossover with Highlander elements. Buffy is immortal, and she travels with Methos to Seattle to investigate a head hunter. The same case of mysterious bodies turning up without heads and Logan asks Max to investigate. Just a routine job for both parties, right?

Pairings: M/L and B/A with implied B/S

Spoilers: Not much of Dark Angel, up to first season finale I guess. Spoilers up to mid season six I guess.

Author's Notes: I would like to thank my beta readers Cynamin and Chocolate dream. Cynamin, your pointers really helped, and thanks so much for cheaking my grammer. I know I didn't change everything, but I did the best I could. Chocolate Dream, your encouragement helped me write on, thanks for the help.

Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas email me at Logan Cale muttered as he violently punched the keys of his computer. It was a state of the art system, expensive and well maintained, but even the best systems in the world faltered. The flickering of his monitor and the constant error alert windows that popped up every now and then were a testament to that. Giving up and growling in frustration, he opted for the low tech solution.Squeezing himself into the confined space beneath his desk, he began hitting the PC. Stupid Computer

On the other side of the penthouse, leaning against Logan's 300,000 dollar italian marble coutnertop, Max rolled her eyes. With a fresh carrot dangling between her fingers, she cocked her head to the side, smirking at the groans she could hear emnating from the study.

He was at it again, will the man ever just relax? Her grin grew bigger, as she heard a particularly loud bang and something that sounded like "I'm begging you here, just work."

'When you start talking to your computer, you know you need a break.' she thought to herself as she tossed the carrot back into the fridge and moved stealthily toward Logan's voice: crawling and using the feline DNA in her system to her full advantage. It was always great fun to startle the man.

His fickle and utterly infuriating computer hummed twice and burped once before dying on him again. Grumbling some more, he sighed giving up. It looked like he'd have to call in some favors to get a comp tech to come by and fix the damn thing.

"Hey."

Logan raised his head automatically in the direction of the voice, forgetting about his surroundings. A loud bang resounded throughout the room as his head connected solidly with the underside of his cherry wood desk. Another bout of swearing occurred as he extracted himself from underneath the desk, rubbing his suddenly throbbing head as he stood.

Squinting, he took in dark curly hair, amused hazelnut eyes, and husky complexion the color of Egyptian sand saturated by the Nile. A patented smirk adorned pouty beestung lips.

"Max." he said, suprise and delight rolled together in a single utterance. "What are you doing here?"

"You rang?" she flashed him a wry look, holding up her pager.

"Ah yeah um..." His reason for paging her suddenly deserted him as he stared down at the woman who'd been haunting his dreams more often than a spectre hand any right. Besides the fact that it was of course a doomed line of thought, they weren't even like that...in any way.

'Sure keep telling yourself that', a tiny voice inside his head taunted. Logan rifled through his papers as he tried not to look flustered as he firmly closed the door on all thougths running in that direction. 

Looking through papers he was too blind to see,Logan tried to get use to the silence of Max's presense. In all the years they had worked together, he still hadn't gotten completely use to her stealthy entrances. It was like Batman, except Max looked way sexier in tights.. Yeah, gorgeous, beautiful, hot... NO NO NO! Bad thoughts, bad! We're not like that. He insisted to his errant imagination, which proceeded to ignore him, conjuring up memories of stolen kisses, and heated looks.

"Logan! Page! Urgent! hello?" Max waved her hands in front of his face. When that produced no results, she gave him a hard nudge bringing him back to reality.

She noticed he did that a lot. Every once in a while, his beautiful cerulean blue eyes would get that dreamy look that told her he was some place else. You could get lost in those eyes. She always wondered where he was at those times, wishing she could go with him. Inwardly she sighed, they could never be together, it was just not worth losing his friendship over.

Logan seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and proceeded to deal with the matter at hand.

"Right!" he nodded his head as if confirming something mentally. Max stood leaning against his desk, arms crossed waiting impatiently for his explanation for a page that had sent her blazing over to his house in the middle of work.

"Well?"

Logan took a yellow manila folder from is desk and handed it to Max. "Take a look"

Curious she opened it and withdrew the pictures within.The first shot was the body of a middle aged Caucasian male, or at least that's what it looked like. You couldn't really tell since it's head had been severed. The rest of the 4 pictures all followed a similar theme, no head.

Max's first reaction was that of a person, her eyes widened in surprise and horror. The murders were so brutal, so cold. Then she visibly shifted gears, and looked at the murder through the eyes of a soldier, registering the type weapon used, and the style of the cut.

"What's curious is that all of the bodies contained practically no blood in them." said Logan pointing to where the head should have been. There was no blood visible near the wound, or anywhere for that matter. "You think this could have been done by one of the Manticore escapees?"

"No, that's not possible" said Max with a shake of her head, "As soldiers we were trained to kill, but we were never told to decapitated our opponents. If it had been a Manticore job, the subject's throat would have been slit, clean and simple. We may have been genetically engineered killing machines, but we always kept a low profile, I don't see why that would change"

Logan grimaced at the detail of her explanation, it was at times like these that he was reminded exactly what kind of life Max had lived before she escaped. He could never presume to understand what she went through; Whatever it was, it allowed her to speak casually of murder. It made Logan shudder to think of Max going through something like that. He could only console himself knowing her life was better now. There was no use dwelling on the past, it was the present that counted.

"So if you don't think it's Manticore, what do you think did this?" he asked, hoping to distract himself from his less than happy thoughts.

Max picked up one of the photos and studied it again, "I can tell you one thing, it's definitely not fully human."

"What do you mean" Logan asked, his curiosity pricked

Holding up the picture Max indicated the neck, "See that?"

"Yeah"

"It was done with a sword, but the bone is cut too cleanly. No human could have taken the head in one slice and leave nothing. Not enough strength."

"How do you know it was done in one slice?" asked Logan clearly baffled by the deduction.

"Because," Max replied; As though explaining to a four year old (that is if four year olds talked about decapitation). "The edge of the bone isn't ragged, if the killer sawed or shifted even a tiny fraction during the swing, there would be some trace of it in the grains of bone. All I see here is a clean, fast cut. No ragged bone edges. Nothing"

"Hmm" was Logans only reply as he pondered this new discovery.

This would take some more research, yes, it was much more prudent to know more about this.

A comfortable silence stretched out between the two, as each contemplated the recent developments.

Just then shrill beep sounded, Max took out her pager and checked the number, the she faced Logan

"Listen, I gotta blaze that was Normal at work. Page me when you've got something k?" with that Max was out the door before Logan could say another word. Shaking his head Logan turned back to his suddenly stable computer, and began searching for other similar cases. There were definintly some possiblities.He remembered reading something like this in college, something about a game and immortals. He shook his head; He was being ridiculous, there was a logical and rational explaination for this. What he had read in college was just an overimaginative individual's ramblings. Nothing but a myth...right?


	2. Buffy and Methos

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together  
  
Rating: PG 13 for now  
  
Author: Specks  
  
Disclamer: Mutant Enemy, Fox and all those network honchos and writers own all, I own nothing, don't sue.  
  
Synopsis: Buffy/ Dark Angel crossover with Highlander elements. Buffy is immortal, and she travels with Methos to Seattle to investigate a head hunter. The same case of mysterious bodies turning up without heads stirrs Logan's curiosity, so he asks Max to investigate. Just a routine job for both parties, right?  
  
Pairings: M/L and B/A with implied B/S.  
  
Spoilers: Not much of Dark Angel, up to first season finale I guess. Spoilers up to about mid season six for Buffy.  
  
Author's Notes: I would like to thank my beta readers Nina and Tiff. . Nina, all your help on grammer was really aprecitated. And you are so not fired, in fact I'm thinking about giving you a promotion:) Tiff, thank you so much for helping me reword my awkward sentenes. You knew exactly what I wanted to say, and helped me say it better. You guys are the best!  
  
Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas email me at slete130@netzero.net  
  
The ceiling fan made a made faint buzzing sound, as crowds of people from all walks of life enjoyed their morning coffee. Buffy Anne Summers, Slayer and immortal sat at a small coffee table. It was located in a little corner of a shabby, ill kept coffee shop. The shop was old, but comfortable in the way of old shoes. You couldn't help but feel safe and at peace here.  
  
Gazing around at the shop, Buffy experienced a sudden ache in the back of her head, alerting her to another immortal nearby. So much for peace and quiet, thought Buffy. With one hand on the sword hidden beneath her clothes, Buffy scanned the crowd cautiously. Spotting the dark haired man, fast approaching her, she relaxed and resumed stirring her coffee. Taking a sip, she grimaced at the taste. It was so hard to find good capuccino these days.  
  
" You'd think coffee in Seattle would be better, since it was one of the only major cities that survived the Pulse, retaining any sembance of order. But no, it is a rule that you can't get a good capuccino outside of Europe." she said by way of greeting.  
  
The man made his way to the table and sat down across from her, to all outside appearences, he looked to be in his late twenties, in reality he over five thousand years old. Time and experience may not have marked his body, but they had taken a toll on his soul. His stormy gray eyes bespoke of wisdom gathered over millenniums. They held a weariness that could only stem from witnessing the rise and fall of too many empires. The fact that laughter and kindness could still be found in the same eyes, that had witnessed so much darkness showed immeasurable inner strength. Now those eyes settled on the blond slayer; Full of mischeif and humor.  
  
"European coffee and American coffees are all the same. I don't see why you always fuss so much." said Adam, hoping to get a rise out of her, "Besides, you're the one that decided to live in this godforsaken country. If you want to live here, then you'll have to deal with the bad coffee."  
  
Buffy harumphed "Easy for you to say. You take your coffee only one way, black."  
  
"I'm glad you still remember." was Adam's amused reply  
  
"As for your comment on my home, I only have this to say." she stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.  
  
A roar of laughter was his only reply.  
  
.  
  
Pulling him into a loving hug, Buffy said teasingly, "You look good.. for an old man."  
  
"Old? who are you calling old?" cried Adam in mock disbelief.  
  
"You." said Buffy simply, amusement lighting in her eyes.  
  
"Me? I'll have you know that I'm not a day over 5000" said Adam indignantly.  
  
"Really?! You're that old? I mean I knew you were old since you're immortal and all, but five thousand?"  
  
Adam was amused by the look of utter bewilderment on his former student's face.  
  
"Wow," Buffy said again after a while, letting that tid bit of information sink in " You know I think you might possibly be the oldest person I know,"  
  
"And that's saying a lot" she added as an afterthought.  
  
Adam grinned at Buffy, trying his best to keep official business at bay.  
  
Buffy smiled back and then said without preamble, "This isn't a social call ,is it?" It was more of a statement than a question. She knew him too well for him to hide anything.  
  
Adam chuckled "Always to the point huh?'  
  
"Yup that's me, point girl." Buffy quipped, causing Adam to chuckle at her wit.  
  
"So what's the sitch?" asked Buffy, head resting on her hands; The epitome of an alert student.  
  
Adam's face darkened "There's a headhunter in Seattle. He's been challenging any immortal he comes across. This does not bode well for our kind"  
  
"How bad is it?"  
  
"Bad. Bodies have been turning up," said Adam grimly. "These little stunts have been bringing too much attention to immortal lore. It must be stopped"  
  
Buffy nodded, agreeing "So what do you think we should do?"  
  
"We have to either convince him to back off, or kill him."  
  
From the look in Adam's eyes the latter would probably be taking place.  
  
Then if it were possible, his face became even grimmer, "We have another problem."  
  
"What?", she asked curious.  
  
"There's a cyber journalist sneaking around and asking questions: He needs to be dealt with."  
  
"A journalist huh? I'm guessing that's where I come in.", Buffy commented dryly.  
  
Adam nodded confirmation.  
  
"I can't investigate the journalist and the killings at the same time. So I was hoping you might, that you may consider..."  
  
"You want me to handle the cyberjournalist." Buffy said cutting him off. He may favor long speeches but that didn't mean she had to suffer through them.  
  
"Right" Adam grinned obviously sensing her impatience  
  
"I figured since you were so use to dealing with servants of darkness, a journalist would be right up your alley."  
  
Sighing, Buffy said resignly "You so owe me for this one, Adam".  
  
"Put it on my tab", he replied nonplussed.  
  
"Hah hah very funny." said Buffy her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"I thought so." Adam smirked raising his cup of coffee in a mock salute.  
  
After another hour or so discussing their plan of action; the two finished their coffee and headed back to their own separate quarters. Buffy to her penthouse, and Adam back to the motel. Neither were apprehensive, they had done this type of thing a thousand times. What could possibly go wrong?  
  
******************************  
  
A whole lot of things. Stay tuned!  
  
Feedback: YES YES! Feedback makes me write faster. (hint, hint)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------  
  
"I laugh in the face of danger, then hide until it goes away"  
  
~Xander  
  
"Fire bad, tree pretty"  
  
~Buffy, Graduation II  
  
****************************** 


	3. The Meet

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together  
  
Rating: PG 13 for now  
  
Author: Specks  
  
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy, Fox and all those network honchos and writers own all, I own nothing, don't sue.  
  
Synopsis: Buffy/ Dark Angel crossover with Highlander elements. Buffy is immortal, and she travels with Methos to Seattle to investigate a head hunter. The same case of mysterious bodies turning up without heads stirs Logan's curiosity, so he asks Max to investigate. Just a routine job for both parties, right?  
  
Pairings: M/L and B/A with implied B/S.  
  
Spoilers: Not much of Dark Angel, up to first season finale I guess. Spoilers up to about mid season six for Buffy.  
  
Author's Notes #1: I would like to thank my beta readers Nina and Tiff. . Nina, all your help on the fic was really apreciated. I totally understand about the red inklessness, you are so not the evil professor with red pen type. I see you more as the nice, but wonderfully demanding type.  
  
Tiff, thank you so much for helping me with the last chapter. I couldn't send you this chapter cause there was something wrong with your email. I kept getting error messages. Please email me so we can sort this out, you're an amazing beta reader, and I would hate to lose you because of technical problems.  
  
Author's Notes #2: Thank you to all those people that sent me the encouraging feedback: Pheobe L, Jezzie, misqteeone, Carmelia, evilalucard, Rosie, Mike, morotcycle_angel(Margaret), Mija, DizzyDame, Hay 25, Karen- Tenou, Whittie-kittie, Lisette, Jill, Jeff, Meagan, Hope, Manticore- gurl071134,Matt, Boy of Enders, BTVS Lover, Sparrow, X-Lander, Liquid Amber, Rashaka, Maeve Tyr Namid, Deep Red, and Cyber AngelOne. Thanks guys, you keep me writing..that and my beta fic reader.  
  
Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas e-mail me at slete130@netzero.net  
  
  
  
Her troubled thoughts plaguing her, Buffy found herself pacing the hall of her  
  
penthouse, trying to process her newly acquired information.  
  
  
  
The day after their coffee-house meeting, she and Adam had done some snooping--  
  
trying learn the identity of their nosy reporter. Discovering his real identity had been almost impossible; the guy had more aliases then Hugh Hefner had girlfriends. ( It took them two whole days just to separate fact from fiction. By the third day, her patience had run out, and she was just about to ask a couple of friends for help when they had hit paydirt.  
  
A contact of hers had information--apparently their nosy reporter was Eyes Only, Seattle's premier cable hacking journalist.  
  
  
  
This knowledge would have been little help to an ordinary person, but then, no one had ever accused Buffy of being ordinary.  
  
With a few phone calls, and some promises here and there, she was able to secure one of the world's finest Trackers.  
  
  
  
Trackers were rare and hard to come by because they possessed a unique, and highly sought after, gift: they had the ability to manipulate both technology and magic in conjunction with each other, and thus were able to obtain almost any kind of information from a computer. A good tracker could sniff out anything or anyone that had passed through the Internet within the last 48 hours and, since Eyes Only had just recently done a cable hack, tracking him was not hard.  
  
  
  
By the end of the day, she had not only Eyes Only's location, but also the sites he'd visited and the times and  
  
dates he'd logged on within the past year. From there it wasn't very hard to deduce the identity of the reporter: Logan Cale.  
  
  
  
The problem was she knew Logan; they had lived in the same building for years. He was one of her best mortal friends, and now, to discover he was to be the one behind the disturbing probes into immortal lore... It was quite a shock. What troubled her was not Logan's secrecy about Eyes Only, but the danger he had inadvertently put himself in because of it. Until now, Logan's quarries had all been human, but pursuing the supernatural underworld was a different matter. Any one of the more powerful immortals might well decide to take matters into their own hands and silence his inquiries for good. If she could find him then so could they.  
  
  
  
Concerns about her friend's safety and the best way to broach the subject with him followed  
  
her as she continued to pace.  
  
  
  
One floor down, unaware of his friend's thoughts, Logan stood in front of his door. Precariously balancing grocery bags in his hands, he blindly searched for the hole in which his key fit.  
  
  
  
"There!" he cried triumphantly as the key slid into the lock. Pushing the door open, Logan stumbled into the penthouse; weaving and bobbing like an expert boxer, he tried desperately to hang on to all of his bags.  
  
It was times like this that he missed supermarkets the most, those were one  
  
of the first things to go after the pulse.  
  
  
  
Nowadays you have to run all over town to acquire the proper supplies for a decent dinner. Ahh supermarkets-- one of the greatest luxuries ever invented by man. Those heavenly piles of food conveniently prepackaged for you in individual containers, ready for sale. With instructions written right on the box simple enough for even the most profound culinary idiot to prepare.  
  
  
  
Mounds upon mounds of fruit, mountain-like in their proportions, each one freshly delivered from the farmer's market. Individually selected for quality, and sprayed with pesticide to ensure against those otherwise helpful fertilizers that we call insects. Not to mention the deli and the entire row devoted to spices. Logan thought nostalgically of a time when you could find everything in one spot, of a time when good bourbon could be obtained somewhere other than the black market. Ahh, those were the days...  
  
  
  
Surveying the mess of bags in front of him, Logan set to work putting the supplies into their proper spots. He was in the kitchen preparing a salad for lunch, when Max decided to pay him an afternoon visit.  
  
  
  
"Knock, Knock" she said, poking her head through the threshold.  
  
  
  
"Hey," said Logan a bit breathlessly. It was partly due to the beautiful vision before him, and partly from the near heart attack he had suffered from her sudden appearance.  
  
  
  
Logan could not take his eyes off Max as she entered his kitchen. Her movements flowed with a catlike grace, and her face suffused with pleasure at the sight of the salad. She practically purred approval, as she inhaled the scent of the oriental chicken salad. With the conditions like they were now, you couldn't really risk eating raw vegetables unless you wanted to poison yourself. He had gone through a lot of trouble to obtain the greenery for his salads. It pleased Logan to no end that Max recognized and appreciated his efforts.  
  
  
  
"What's that?" asked Max breaking into Logan's thoughts. She pointed to a pair of boxing gloves in the corner with the half eaten carrot she'd filched from the bowl. Inwardly she was already sure of his answer. After all, the gloves were exactly her size.  
  
  
  
'How sweet', she thought, 'he thought of me while shopping'  
  
  
  
"Oh those," said Logan distractedly waving in the general direction of the gloves, " Those are for-," the doorbell rang just then, effectively cutting off the rest of his sentence.  
  
  
  
"Give me a minute," he said as he made his way around the counter to answer the door. He made it to the door just as the bell rang again.  
  
  
  
ding..ding ding ding.....ding ding  
  
  
  
A smile split Logan's face as he heard the pattern of the rings. Only one person rang his bell that way..  
  
  
  
Opening the door he feigned surprise, "Oh, Buffy, its you! What a pleasant surprise!"  
  
  
  
"What do you mean surprise?!" she demanded, "Who else rings your doorbell like that?"  
  
  
  
"What's that? You say you were ringing the doorbell?" he said with an exaggerated impersonation of a deaf old man.  
  
  
  
"Yeah!", she said grinning, well use to the banter, "How could you not hear me?"  
  
  
  
"Because I've gone deaf in one ear due to the constant ringing of the doorbell by an annoying neighbor of mine." Logan countered with a straight face but Buffy saw the glint of mischief in his clear blue eyes.  
  
  
  
"Well you know there is a way to regain your hearing," she said playing along.  
  
  
  
"Well really? What's that?" he asked, trying not to give away his amusement. He was in for it now, he recognized the look on Buffy's face. It was her 'I'm gonna get you' face.  
  
  
  
"There's a theory that if said person receives a concussion from said neighbor then said person would regain his or her hearing. Wanna test it?" asked Buffy as she playfully cuffed at his head, giving him ample opportunity to dodge out of the way. Missing its original target, Buffy's fist landed on his shoulder and Logan grunted obligingly. She was careful to keep her slayer strength under control; if she hadn't, Logan would have done much more than grunt.  
  
  
  
They were wrestling playfully when Max came out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. Seeing them all over each other made Max see red.  
  
  
  
'What the hell is that skanky ho doin with Logan?' thought Max jealously. 'He's mine!'  
  
  
  
Taking a deep breath, Max tried to compose her wayward thoughts, 'Down girl, he ain't yours. He can get all over whoever he wants.' That bleak thought helped her reign in the green eyed monster just as it reared its ugly head.  
  
  
  
Breaking apart, Logan looked sheepish at being caught in such a childish display. Pushing his skewed glasses back in place, he hastened to make introductions. There was a scary, unwarranted animosity emanating from both of the women, and it made Logan decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
Buffy looked tense, her gaze instantly taking in the woman who had interrupted them. Brown eyes clashed with hazel as each attempted to get the other's measure. For a moment her eyes reminded Buffy of Angel, they were full of guilt, pain and remorse, but where Angel's were soft, her's were hard and unforgiving. Buffy remembered the last time she had seen Angel, of the time when her own eyes had been filled with the same kind of pain, and remorse.  
  
  
  
'Don't go there', she told herself mentally. It was never wise to think about Angel, even after all these years it was just too painful. Pulling herself back to the present, she tried to pinpoint what it was about the girl that gave her the wiggins.  
  
  
  
There was something off about the dark haired woman, something unnatural. She was getting all sorts of mixed signals from her spidey sense. Whatever she was, it was clear from his body language that Logan trusted her. Buffy knew that Logan did not trust easily, anyone that could earn his trust was either a talented deceiver or an amazing person. She would reserve judgment on which category this woman fit.  
  
  
  
"Buffy, this is Max," said Logan making the introduction, "Max, Buffy."  
  
  
  
'What kind of name is that?' thought Max as she reached out and shook Buffy's hand. When they made contact, all thoughts of strange names flew her mind. The vibes coming off the blonde's hand were funky, it was a combination of total terror, and comforting warmth. Max did not relish repeating the action. There was something wrong about this girl, she and Logan may be chummy chummy, but that didn't count for shit in her book. Her instincts had never led her wrong, and right now they were screaming at her to run. Whoever this Buffy was, nothing about her was normal.  
  
  
  
'I think I'll pay Buffy a little late night visit tomorrow,' thought Max as she listened with half an ear to Logan's rambling. If she didn't find anything in the blonde's penthouse, she could at least get an idea if the girl's personality. There was just something about her that made Max want to stay on the defensive.  
  
  
  
"You know where the gloves are, right Max?" Logan asked her pulling her back to the conversation.  
  
  
  
"Gloves? What gloves?" asked Max, she was still trying to figure out what they had been talking about.  
  
  
  
"You know, the ones you were asking me about," said Logan gesturing towards the direction of the kitchen.  
  
  
  
"Oh those," said Max remembering the gloves Logan had bought for her, "What about them?"  
  
  
  
"Could you please go get them? They're for Buffy", said Logan.'  
  
  
  
Buffy! I thought those were for me. First she manhandles Logan, and now she steals my gloves! What a bitch!' thought Max irrationally, as she stalked off toward the direction of the indicated object.  
  
  
  
"You got me boxing gloves!", said Buffy, delighted, "You remembered! I didn't think you would." The last pair of gloves she had owned were shredded by a switchknife toting burglar. Unfortunately for the burgler, the destruction of he beloved gloves had left Buffy in rage. She had systematically beat the crap out of her would-be assailant and relished every blow. It was lucky Logan showed up, that is, lucky for the burglar. Logan's calm, inquiring voice had pierced through her haze of rage, and reason had returned. With Logan tending to the burgler Buffy was then able to call the police. And that had been that. It really surprised and pleased her that Logan was so thoughtful.  
  
"Not remember!" said Logan insulted, "What kind of friend do you think I am?!"  
  
  
  
His ensuing tirade was cut off when Max rentered the room. Handing Buffy the gloves, .  
  
Her finger brushed with the blonde's and both experienced the previous jolt of ..something. They both pulled back quickly as though stung, their bodies tense and charged.  
  
  
  
Deciding now was not the time to tell Logan she knew about Eyes Only, Buffy hurriedly made excuses to leave. There was no point in enduring this tension, if nothing was to come of it. Besides, she had to go home and do a bit more research on this Max. She was a new player, and Buffy did not liked to be surprised.  
  
Hearing the elevator ding, Buffy stepped in as questions continued to plague her.What side was Max on, is her affection for Logan real or pretend? Those were questions that needed answering, and Buffy was determined to find the truth. With an inward sigh Buffy decided she would need another tracker. The suckers were expensive, both in money and in favors. Oh well, it would be worth it to see that Logan was safe. Buffy exited the elevator and entered her penthouse with a determined stride. She would get to the bottom of this.  
  
  
  
  
  
_____________________  
  
"Passion is the source of our finest moments, it is the joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstacy of grief."  
  
~Angeles ,Passion 


	4. Slaying and Thieving

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together 4  
  
Rating: PG 13 for now  
  
Author: Specks  
  
Disclaimer: James Cameron, Fox, Joss Whedon and all those network people that make the show possible own these characters.  
  
Synopsis: Max takes Buffy's Cladaugh ring. nuff said.  
  
Pairings: M/L  
  
Spoilers: Season 1 DA and up to mid season 6 BTVS.  
  
Author's Notes #1: I'd like to thank Nina, you're the best as always. All the suggestions you gave me really worked.. Thanks!!! Oh yeah I hope you feel better.  
  
Author's notes #2. Thank you to all the nice people that sent me feedback. Carmelia, Lily, Jezzie, Beth, Karen-Tenou,DarkAngel, Angel Spaz, margaret,Ginger,angel451, x5-599-girl,Eryne,hay25, sailorspitsh, x- Lander,Tha Char, Maeve Tyr Namid, Matt, CyberAngelOne,Feynor,and rosie.  
  
Author's Note#3: Special thanks to Kit my sentece producer(my penguin), and Cathy my dialogue guru.  
  
Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas e-mail me at slete130@netzero.net  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
  
The sun sank below the horizon as the creatures of the night stirred from their slumber and ventured out into the darkness. Seattle became a different city at the rising of the full moon. The people that roamed the streets seemed of a different breed than those of the day.  
  
Drug dealers and prostitutes conducted business openly, and the young scurried to and fro. Some with things to accomplish and others with no clue at all as to where they were headed. In the cover of the shadows predators of all kinds prowled, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.  
  
Buffy was no different from any other predator as she jogged along the darkened streets, waiting for her prey. She was bristling for a fight, especially after the kind of day she had. Not being a morning person, Buffy had been understandably grumpy when the early morning meeting with her tracker had turned up nothing useful. All he'd been able to dig up on Max was a couple of charges in theft and her address. Nothing a half way decent hacker wouldn't have been able to find. And that had only been the beginning of her hellish day.  
  
Then Adam had dropped to tell her in his oh so casual way that a contract had been taken out on Logan's head...literally. It seems whoever delivered the head of Eyes Only would receive a bounty of 6 million dollars, a hefty sum in this day and age. All of that combined with an entire afternoon wasted on a closed mouthed informant made up one angry and annoyed slayer. It was unfortunate for the vampires in the vicinity that Buffy decided to channel all of her anger and frustration into the Hunt. So far she'd already bagged two unwary vampires but she still hummed with pent up energy.  
  
Buffy sincerely wished the idiotic lot of vampires following her would attack already. The stench of raw sewage and festering fruit reached Buffy's nose as she turned into an empty alleyway. The vamps needed a bit of encouragement, and since the alley was secluded and dark Buffy figured they would be right at home. She was getting tired of this cat and mouse game, she wanted a fight..now. No sooner was the thought completed when the three stalker vampires came out into the open.  
  
They all had the uniformed gang look; black leather, piercing, and tattoos. The words 'Hell Hounds' was tattooed on one's arm, while another had on a dirty, tattered bandanna with the same logo on it. The third ugly was actually pretty young looking, but Buffy could sense that he was the eldest. Strength radiated off of him, he wasn't old by vampiric standards, but it was clear he was the leader . She would have to be careful around this one. The three hoodlum vamps approached her growling and revealing their game faces, hoping to frighten the fight out of her. Of course they had no idea who they were dealing with...  
  
"Finally!", Buffy cried, throwing up her hands, "I thought you guys were gonna take all night!"  
  
The vampires were befuddled, she was prey wasn't she suppose to run away? The confusion stopped them cold as they tried to figure out what was wrong with this picture.  
  
"You know," she continued flippantly, wagging her finger at them, "you guys are the worst stalkers ever! I had to stop twice!" She held up two fingers and pointed them at the vampires, accentuating her statement, "Count them twice! To make sure you didn't lose me! What kind of morons are you?"  
  
Buffy's last insult seemed bring them out of their state of shock as all three charged at her, abandoning their first attempt to frighten her. That plan was clearly not working out, so they settled for good old fashion violence. Their plan was just fine with Buffy for she quickly dropped into fighting stance ready for the upcoming fight.  
  
Deciding to take out the tattooed one first, Buffy quickly flipped onto her back, grabbed him by the shoulders, and used his momentum to send him sailing over her head. He crashed unceremoniously into the dumpster of the alley, launching a half head of cabbage into the air on impact. The cabbage landed a minute later with a wet plop on the knocked out vampire's head. Buffy would have thought the display comical had she not been so busy with the fallen vamp's partners.  
  
The remaining two vampires attacked her simultaneously hoping to gain an advantage over their human quarry. Bandanna boy tried to hold Buffy's arms while the other one attacked, but the tables were turned when Buffy head butted her restrainer and kicked her assailant. She then flipped Bandanna boy onto his back and staked him.  
  
Now there was only one left, the strongest. They circled each other warily looking for weaknesses, the vampire wasn't as stupid as he looked. He'd seen how she'd beaten his partners and knew she wasn't just some normal girl. Deciding enough with the circling, Buffy lashed out with a flurry of blows. She barely registered the minor wounds her opponent was able to land. Slayer healing would take care of that.  
  
"Tell me something," she asked conversationally as she back handed the last vampire, "You this ugly when you were alive?" She punctuated the question with a roundhouse that knocked him flat on his back next to his knocked out buddy. "Cause I didn't see much of difference between your game face and your human face.,"  
  
The vampire was never given a chance to answer as Buffy plunged her stake into his heart. She then did the same service to his buddy. The demons let out one last inhuman scream before they exploded into dust. 'Score one for me and none for you' thought Buffy as she attempted to remove the remains of her quarry from her clothes. She sighed as all of her futile patting did nothing more than cause the dust to rise and her to choke.  
  
'My dry cleaner is gonna have a field day' thought Buffy wryly as she coughed up the dust. That was of the biggest hazards of slaying..it utterly decimated her wardrobe. She was fortunate to have more than enough funds to cover her dry cleaner bills. But damn! It was irritating when you had to explain away all those blood stains.  
  
It was times like these that she thanked her lucky stars she'd invested in European companies. She'd done it for personal reasons, but the results were amazing. After her first death Buffy wanted nothing to do with her old life. So she'd tried to shed all vestiges it, including her birthplace. At the time just being in the US held too many memories and regrets. In hopes of assuaging the loss of her old life, Buffy decided to stay away from those things that would remind her of home. That meant staying away from most American things, including stock.. She had been astounded when her instance of sentimentality paid off . American stocks were devastated after the Pulse, but European stock not only survived, prices had sky rocketed. The result was Buffy ending up a very rich young woman.  
  
Already dreaming of home, unable to imagine anything more heavenly than a hot shower and her soft bed, Buffy checked "patrol" off her mental to-do list and surveyed the mess she'd created with only slight twinge of guilt.  
  
'Oh well, nobody ever said fighting crime was clean', her dust covered coat and sweats were testament to that.  
  
With a mental shrug Buffy headed home. The only evidence of her earlier skirmish; a knocked over trash can and three piles of dust.  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Max worked the lock to Buffy Summer's apartment, eyes narrowed in concentration. She had been monitoring Buffy for a week, trying to get down her schedule; the times she was in her apartment and the times she wasn't. It would not do to have Buffy coming home while Max investigated. She had no desire to be confronted by this intimidating figure just yet.  
  
"Bingo" Max whispered as the door swung open quietly. She paused outside of the luxurious apartment wary of the complex security systems usually associated with flats this expensive. She tensed for a moment as she crossed the threshold, expecting the alarm to trip any minute. But strain as she might, Max was unable to hear any tell tale click of a tripped wire. Letting out a breath she wasn't aware if holding, Max did a quick survey of her surroundings.  
  
In the living room a wide range of things could be found. Buffy seemed to have a cacophony of tastes that somehow blended together to create an air of subtle, approachable elegance. The mantle above the well used fireplace was a good example of that blend; books ranging form Dickens to the latest issue of Cosmo sat neatly on an antique book shelf. Carefully arranged, yet not pretentious. Buffy's range of tastes however was not limited to her book shelf. A big screen TV with a state of the art surround sound system was beautifully integrated into the oak panel walls. While a pair of deadly, artful katanas graced the far wall. As a whole the living room was sparse but expensive, just like the rest of the penthouse. Max definintly had to giver her props for style.  
  
Max did a quick scan of the remaining rooms and found a simple gym with a single punching bag in the corner, and equally sparsely furnished kitchen and bedrooms. A single bed, an antique desk, and a framed sketch of a single rose made up the master chamber. At least that was how it would look to the naked eye, but then Max would not be the thief or the transgenic she was had she not noticed the safe concealed behind the rose.  
  
  
  
Carefully removing the rose sketch, Max discovered an old fashioned tumble lock safe. The metal looked aged but steadfast. With an audible sigh, Max resigned herself to doing it the old fashioned way. Turning the dial slowly she listened intently for the sound of tumblers falling into place. Three clicks later, Max was watched the safe door swing open with a satisfied smirk.  
  
'Oh yeah I've still got it'.  
  
A soundless whistle passed her lips as she took in the contents of the safe. Rubies, safires, and emeralds littered the velvet clad interior. Interesting how diamonds weren't a part of her collection.  
  
'I wonder why. Oh well, not important.'  
  
Rifling through the contents, Max also discovered a jewelery box nestled in the far corner of the safe. Curious she undid the antique clasp and opened the box.  
  
Inside she found an array of rings in all sizes. There was one particularly large safire ring that she could have fenced for five grand easy on the black market. Resisting the temptation to steal it, Max tried to move on. Although her gaze did linger a bit longer on the precious gem.  
  
'Wonder how she got that?' thought Max idly as she continued looking through the contents. One particular ring in the collection stood out from the rest. A simple silver band. It was against her nature to break in and not steal, so deciding Buffy wouldn't miss one ring out of so many, Max pocketed it and moved on.  
  
Half an hour and no clues later, Max regretfully began to close the door of the safe. She'd discovered nothing that would reveal the secrets Buffy Summers held. The whole trip looked like a total bust. She was just about to fully close the safe door, when the light of her flashlight bounced off the inner metal lining. It illuminated a hidden crack she hadn't noticed before. Reaching in Max felt around the edges of the crack and discovered a false bottom. Carefully pulling out the top layer she set it aside and was stunned by what she saw.  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
Stakes, crosses and ..holy water? Were all crammed into the limited space of the safe. Max didn't have time to process what she'd seen as the ding of the elevator brought her out of the shock. She took that as her cue to leave and hastily rearranged everything to look untouched.  
  
**************************************  
  
Buffy arrived at the door of the penthouse tired and exhausted. Throwing her keys on the coffee table she was ready to just plop into bed. Walking like a zombie, Buffy careless threw her coat behind her, unconcerned with where it landed, as long as it was off. A messy trail of clothing followed her as she made her way toward the fridge. She hadn't bothered with the light, slayer vision would compensate for that. She opened the refrigerator door and was just about to reach in for a bottle of water, when a sudden flicker of movement at the corner of her eye alerted her to an intruder.  
  
Immersing herself in the darkness, she moved cautiously tracking her late night visitor. Now in full slayer mode, she was sensitive to even the slightest sound. Whatever was in her apartment was definitely not human. It moved stealthily from wall to wall, eluding her gaze. Then it was gone. As though it had never been, but for the lingering scent of lilac that permeated the air.  
  
Interesting, she remembered that scent form somewhere..but where? Filing the information away for later, Buffy took an inventory of her valuables. Nothing expensive was taken, this made her decidedly nervous. She much preferred a normal everyday robbery than not. Searching thorough her safe she came upon the box that held her dearest treasure. Holding her breath she undid the clasp...  
  
'No! No not the Claddaugh ring.'  
  
Pain, anger and panic suffused her entire being as she beheld the empty box. But after another second contemplating her loss, Buffy's myriad of violent emotions gave way to determination. Whoever did this was gonna have hell to pay. With an iron resolve, she concentrated on the lingering lilac scent, literally following her nose.  
  
*******************  
  
Max walked into Logan's penthouse half expecting him to be home, but since he was not she took the liberty of using his shower. Stepping into the streaming water, Max nearly purred from the pleasure. Aww, hot water such a rare commodity in today's world. Reaching for a the body wash she gave an apreciative sniff. She loved the lilac soap Logan seemed to prefer, it smelled so nice.  
  
'I swear if I didn't know the man, I'd think he was gay.'  
  
Steam billowed out of the bathroom as Max exited with a towel wrapped around her body.  
  
'Logan has a good shower. I should use his shower more often. My hair feels so weird wet. Maybe I should bring a blow dryer next time so WOW!!!'  
  
A foot barely missed her head as she quickly dodged out of harm's way.  
  
Standing, Max looked up just in time to come face to face with one seriously pissed off slayer.  
  
"Give me my ring!"  
  
*************************  
  
"Those who can;do. Those who can't, laugh at those who can do."  
  
~Xander  
  
FEEDBACK!!!!!!!!  
  
Although it may not seem like it, all the feedback I got for this chapter really hurried me along. Trust me this would have been out next month if not for all you guys! So keep it up and I'll keep writing.  
  
Lotsa Love  
  
Specks  
  
PS: I promise Angel is coming I swear! 


	5. The Fight

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together  
  
Rating: PG 13 for now  
  
Author: Specks  
  
Disclaimer: James Cameron, Fox, Joss Whedon and all those network people that make the show possible own these characters.  
  
Synopsis: Max takes Buffy's Cladaugh ring. nuff said.  
  
Pairings: M/L  
  
Spoilers: Season 1 DA and up to mid season 6 BTVS.  
  
Author's Notes #1: I'd like to thank Nina, you're the best as always. All the suggestions you gave me really worked.. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! If it weren't for all of your help this would never have gone anywhere.  
  
Author's notes #2. Thank you to all the nice people that sent me feedback. Carmelia, Lily, Jezzie, Beth, Karen-Tenou,DarkAngel, Angel Spaz, margaret,Ginger,angel451, x5-599-girl,Eryne,hay25, sailorspitsh, x- Lander,Tha Char, Maeve Tyr Namid, Matt, CyberAngelOne,Feynor,and rosie, mija, anonymous,TheDarkestAngel, Manticore Queen, the ICEbear, LocoLauren, Kat, Alex, Dixie, Lady Dragoness, Eryne. Sorry if I missed anyone!  
  
  
  
Author's Note#3: Special thanks to Kit my sentece producer(my penguin), and Cathy my dialogue guru, I know I bug you guys a lot but hey that's why you love me so much !*G*.  
  
Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas e-mail me at slete130@netzero.net  
  
*******************************  
  
The tension in the air was thick as the two women faced off. Max stood to the side of the shower, droplets of water traveling down her still wet form. A towel was wrapped loosely around the brunette's body, already soaked from the excess water. But Max paid it little mind, all of her attention was focused on the woman before her. The menace emanating from the blonde was an almost tangible thing.  
  
Danger radiated off of her in waves, and Max had to fight to keep from retreating. For a full minute survival instinct and pride warred. She struggled to comprehend her irrational reaction to Buffy, but no answer came. In the end pride won, as it always must.  
  
Her body taut and ready for whatever would come, Max stood her ground. She ran from no one, especially someone with a name as ridiculous as Buffy.  
  
A deafening silence reigned for a second or two as Max comtemplated Buffy's demand.  
  
"Where's my ring?"  
  
The demand echoed throughout the penthouse until it quieted to a mere whisper.  
  
***************  
  
Buffy, trembling with the force of her barely contained rage, glared at the thief. If it were possible, Buffy would have been growling; stirring with tumultuous emotions, her usually placid hazel eyes darkened to an angry emerald green. Max had taken what was hers, and if she didn't hand it over right now, she was gonna be in a world of hurt.  
  
"What?" Max stalled as her mind raced... forming and discarding plans. She didn't want to hurt Buffy-ok, that was a lie. She *did* want to hurt Buffy, but Logan wouldn't exactly be dancing for joy if she ended up knocking out his bestest pal. What to do, what to do...  
  
"My ring," said Buffy, running out of patience, " I know you took it."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Max, shooting for the composed and in charged look. She was doing a pretty good job of it, if she did say so herself. After all, it was really hard trying to look dignified when you had on nothing more than a towel.  
  
"I'm only going to say this one more time," Buffy ground out in a surprisingly controlled voice, "Give. Me. My. Ring!"  
  
"Look!" Max was annoyed by the constant threats; it was getting tiresome and she really wanted Buffy to go away... forever... Hey, it doesn't hurt to dream, right? "I don't know what stick rode up your ass, but I don't got time for your accusations."  
  
"Look! You-" Buffy was prepared to get into the brunette's face, but before she could utter another word, she was effectively cut off by Max's yell.  
  
"Listen, Barbie!"  
  
"What did you just call me?" interrupted Buffy, her eyes narrowed. She'd been called many things in her life, bunny, fluffy, slutty, but no one had ever accused her of being a Barbie. It was uncalled for and really...really....*mean*.  
  
Seeing the reaction she was getting, Max smirked and goaded Buffy on--Logan couldn't get mad at her if she claimed it was self-defense, "You heard me."  
  
Deciding it was time to get even, Buffy replied, "Eeh, I'm sorry that's incorrect. As a consolation prize you get a lifetime's supply of *pain.*"  
  
Making sure slayer strength was absent, Buffy sent a fist flying in Max's direction after all, she wanted to hurt the girl… not kill her. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise when her fist met nothing but air.  
  
'What the-'  
  
Before she could turn around, Max materialized behind Buffy and delivered a perfectly executed sidekick. The blow sent Buffy sprawling clear across the room and into one of Logan's chess sets.  
  
"You think you can take me?" challenged Max, her annoying smirk in place.  
  
Carefully righting the chess set she'd bumped into, Buffy replied, "Yeah! I think I can!"  
  
Seeing Max's current state of undress she added, "Now go put some clothes on so I can give you a proper ass kicking."  
  
"I can kick your ass even without my clothes." Max retorted, "You know what?" she asked as though pondering something, "We're both girls here, and I've got nothing to hide." With those words, Max undid the knot of the towel and let it fall to the ground. It landed with a faint thud, but Buffy was too shocked to notice.  
  
Buffy prided herself on being pretty radical, after all one of her best friends was a lesbian, but still... This whole thing was just getting weirder and weirder. Momentarily taken aback, Buffy quickly regained her faculties as she realized it was probably nothing more than a tactic.  
  
"I'm not like that," quipped Buffy determined not to let the situation bother her.  
  
"Don't flatter yourself," retorted Max as the two slowly circled one another. Now they both had the other's measure and there would be no more holding back.  
  
Max was the first to move. Tearing into Buffy, she let loose a fury of kicks that Buffy was just barely able to dodge. Grunting from the effort, Buffy ducked, dodged, and blocked to avoid the oncoming blows.  
  
The flurry of blows seemed endless before Buffy saw it--her opening! Twisting her body to the side, Buffy let Max's sidekick pass her head. Then, in one fluid motion, she seized the transgenic's right leg and jerked upwards.  
  
With one leg off balance, and the other leg in the air, any normal person would have fallen, but then again nothing about this fight fit into the category of normal. Using her caught foot as a leverage point, Max kicked off the ground with the other leg, and delivered a bone-shattering roundhouse. The sheer strength of the blow forced Buffy to release Max's leg as she fought to keep her own balance. Landing back on the ground, Max immediately returned to fighting stance, ready for the next round.  
  
************************  
  
Buffy's head had snapped back from the impact of Max's kick, and a trickle of blood appeared on the corner of her mouth. The pain factor was definitely there, but all it did was cause her to grin.  
  
Now *here* was a challenge.  
  
"That was pretty good," Buffy admitted, rubbing her jaw to relieve the ache, "but now its my turn."  
  
Before Max could react, she was assailed by a whirlwind of kicks and punches. From the look on Buffy's face, she knew this was not going to be a short fight.  
  
Like two angry lionesses battling over territory, the women dueled. Trading blows back and forth, they moved with a lethal precision; gaining, losing, and regaining ground… Nimble athletes, they twisted and spun, neither willing to give an inch. Dancing to the lethal tune of combat, both women became a blur of motion... Each moving so quickly the other barely had time to register the last move before blocking the next deadly assault.  
  
With neither winning and neither willing to concede defeat, the fight seemed to go on forever, as two distinct fighting styles emerged. Max's style held a decidedly militant flair, as years of Manticore training blended seamlessly with hard won urban survival skills. Each movement was cold, controlled and precise, as her soldier's mind analyzed the situation and planned battle strategy. Against any other opponent, her careful planning and strategy might have insured victory. But her machinations proved useless against her enemy's ingenious assaults.  
  
Buffy's style proved erratic, unpredictable, and equally effective as the blonde fought instinctively... Unlike her controlled opponent, she relied heavily on her emotions, tapping into the strength they gave her, augmenting her already formidable power. Her every movement was automatic, an innate reaction to her opponent's actions. Reflexes, ingrained in her very being after so many years and hard fought battles, were impeccably honed and flawless in their execution. Their two unique fighting skills, perfect contrasts, meant this fight could go on indefinitely, with no woman emerging the clear victor.  
  
Faking a left hook kick, Buffy swept right at the last minute and followed through with a backhand. Max saw the fake coming and successfully avoided the sweep but was unprepared for the backhand that followed. Stars exploded in her head as Max reeled back from the impact. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her vision.  
  
"You know," Buffy said admiring her handy work, "you're lucky, if you weren't a girl-"  
  
"What? You'd hit me?" Max interrupted, "A little too late for that."  
  
"No, I'd stake you." Buffy punctuated the sentence by slamming Max into the far wall.  
  
"What's up with you and stakes?" Max ground out,  
  
"How much of my stuff did you go through?" Buffy gripped Max's wrists and now the two were in a tug of war.  
  
"How much do you have to hide?"  
  
Max tried to keep Buffy pinned to the wall, but it took all of her effort just to maintain the position she was in.  
  
Deciding current their contest of was fruitless, Buffy changed tactics. Keeping her grip on Max's wrist, Buffy maneuvered them so that neither's back was to the wall. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, she broke away. They were now both back to where they had started, only more tired.  
  
'Barbie can fight', thought Max as she avoided yet another forceful blow.  
  
The anger in the blonde's eyes both surprised her and made her curious. What was so special about this ring? Deciding to get it from the source, she asked in a flippant tone,  
  
"So what's the story with the ring? Some cradle robbing pimp daddy give it to you?"  
  
White-hot rage coursed through Buffy at the mockery of the love she and Angel had shared. Like molten lava, she felt it slowly cover up any amount of reason she possessed. With an almost inhuman roar, Buffy charged into Max and both figures tumbled to the ground.  
  
"Never. Insult. My. Mate." she bit out between punches as both women struggled to gain the upper hand.  
  
********************************  
  
Logan whistled a happy melody as he walked towards the door of his penthouse.  
  
Nothing like a brisk outing to improve one's mood.  
  
Pausing outside the door, he noticed it was unlocked and figured Max was there. Still carrying the tune, Logan walked into the penthouse and froze at the sight that greeted him.  
  
A fully clothed but sweaty Buffy had a very naked and equally sweaty Max pinned beneath her. Beads of sweat rolled off their lithe forms as they moved against one another. Muscles rippled beneath flawless skin as the two women wrestled on the polished wooden floor, their harsh breathing echoing throughout the penthouse.  
  
"Give it to me! Give it to me!" cried Buffy. She didn't even notice Logan, so intent was she on the task of retreiving her ring.  
  
For a moment Logan's imagination went wild. 'Oh my God! The woman I love is a... is a..."  
  
He didn't have time to finish the thought, as Max's reply quickly dispelled the notion his dirty mind had conjured up.  
  
"No! Not until you tell me what it is!"  
  
Max struggled to free her pinned arms, but the enraged slayer held firm. That was when  
  
they both noticed a shocked Logan standing on the sidelines. The sight of Logan distracted Buffy enough for Max to shove her off. Max underestimated her power as Buffy flew back into the fireplace from the strength of the blow.  
  
As she slammed into a stone, and an audible snap could be heard as her neck broke.  
  
Logan and Max both watched in horror as the body collapsed. A sickening thud sounded as she fell in a heap onto the ash ridden floor. For a moment, deafening silence reigned. Then snapping out of her trance, Max ran over to the body. Kneeling down she felt for a pulse...nothing.  
  
'Oh God..", thought a panicked Max, "What have I done?'  
  
*********************  
  
"Tact is just saying not true things. I'll pass.."  
  
"  
  
~Cordelia  
  
FEEDBACK!!!!!!!!  
  
I',m really sorry that this chapter came so late, but I had a glitch with the posting on my computer and then I lost everything! Sorry.....Hope you enjoyed it.  
  
Lotsa Love  
  
Specks 


	6. Surprise!

Title: A Lifetime Apart, An Eternity Together  
  
Rating: PG 13 for now  
  
Author: Specks  
  
Disclamer: Mutant Enemy, Fox and all those network honchos and writers own all, I own nothing, don't sue.  
  
Synopsis: Buffy/ Dark Angel crossover with Highlander elements. An immortal Buffy finds herself in Seattle, Max's world. The two meet and clash, what happens next? Read and find out.  
  
Pairings: M/L and B/A with implied B/S  
  
Spoilers: Not much of Dark Angel, up to first season finale I guess. Spoilers up to mid season six I guess.  
  
Author's Notes 1: I would like to thank my beta readers Nina and Kate. Nina, without your expert guidance and dead on suggestions I would never have gotten this done. Getting a beta'd fic from you is always fun because you make it so, thank you so much for always going above and beyond. Kate, your ponderous nature and wonderful comments have helped me more than you know. I know it was on short notice for you to beta this fic, so I'm totally grateful you took the time. As for commas well.. Don't miss them too much. I'll probably become comma happy any minute now Heh heh.  
  
Author's notes 2: Special thanks to Nina G. You constant prodding and impromptu suggestions have shaped this fic into something I haven't anticipated. Its greatly inspired me. Also thanks to my dialogue guru and penguin, I know I'm a pain but hey, that's why you love me. *G*  
  
Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, should I continue? Any ideas would be welcome as well. Pleas email me at slete130@netzero.net  
  
***********************************  
  
"What have I done?"    
  
The question echoed through the hollow reaches of Max's mind, mocking her. She knew exactly what she had done; it was what she'd been trained to do. She'd taken a life without thought, without hesitation. In one unthinking moment she'd shattered any and all illusions Logan may have harbored about her true nature; denial was no longer an option for him.   
  
From the moment she was created, Max had been designed for one thing and one thing only: to be the perfect killing machine. After she and the others had escaped, she'd been forced to relearn everything. Walking, talking, even thinking. She'd had to revaluate her entire perspective of life. Suddenly right and wrong took on a whole different meaning.    
  
Her Manticore education hadn't included morals and ethics, Max supposed it had to due with the fact that Lydecker felt any talk of morality would only confuse his obedient little soldiers, and they were right… Since being on her own, a leaderless soldier, she'd had to make some hard decisions. Decisions that would have been utterly simple at Manticore had suddenly become far more complicated. Instead of the black and white she was used to, everything was gray... Since the Pulse, circumstances were rarely anything but shady.   
  
   
  
All her life (if you could call it that) she'd had to deal with the trained killer part of her programming. Like a great white on the hunt, it always lurked just beneath the surface of her human façade, ready to pounce. Knowing that at any moment, the killer could emerge and strike amounted to a stark existence. That had been her reality, and now it would be his.   
  
   
  
Even now, she could feel his cold, piercing eyes on her back, demanding an answer, waiting for her to confirm the conclusions he'd already drawn. Dread engulfed her entire being and the room suddenly seemed airless.  Her lungs felt constrained; it was as if the molecules of air refused to fill them. No matter how hard Max tried, she couldn't force herself to relax.   
  
   
  
In desperation Max looked wildly about the room, scanning the furniture and décor, blindly looking for something which was not there. As if by losing herself to pure distraction, she could achieve a momentary reprieve from that inevitable confrontation with Logan. If she just looked around hard enough, pretended Logan wasn't there, pretended all of this was not happening, then maybe everything would be okay again. The rational part of Max's mind knew that was untrue, that everything wasn't all right. Nothing was all right, and perhaps it never would be again.   
  
   
  
Suddenly a glint of light caught her eye and halted her frantic survey, drawing her gaze to the mantle where something silver glittered in the light. Perched precariously on the edge was Buffy's ring. It was hard to believe that so small an object could be the cause of so great a tragedy. Despite of herself, Max couldn't help but let out a tiny bitter laugh. It was full of spite and loathing… self-loathing. How ironic it all was, that this tiny piece of silver would survive, while its mighty 5'3" owner laid dead.    
  
   
  
Taking the ring, Max placed it gently in the palm of Buffy's hand, positioning it so that her now lifeless fingers grasped the silver band. Buffy had died because of it, the least Max could do was see to it that she was buried with it. Her task done, her duty finished, with nothing else to preoccupy her, Max took a deep fortifying breath and closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was to come next. The long awaited confrontation with Logan.   
  
   
  
A split second later pain exploded in her lower jaw, and a stunned Max found herself flying into the opposite wall. She had enough presence of mind to brace herself for the impact, so she landed relatively unhurt, but her mind still reeled from the blow. Looking up from her position on the floor, Max's entire body went slack with shock. Standing nonchalantly not ten yards away was Buffy.    
  
Alive, breathing, and apparently picking up the fight exactly where they had left off.    
  
How was that even possible?!   
  
***************************************************  
  
 Buffy watched with a satisfied smirk as Max tried to clear the stars dancing before her eyes. As a rule, she didn't like to sucker punch people, but that bitch deserved it!   
  
   
  
"Call me Barbie, will you? Yeah, well, this is Mattel's latest creation, Karate Barbie, ready to kick some ass!'"   
  
   
  
Beneath her calm exterior, however, lurked true fear and concern. She had no idea what Max had seen or what she thought she had seen. Most importantly, she didn't have a clue as to how Max would react.    
  
This was not good.    
  
It was times like these thanked that Buffy thanked/blamed the PTB for the uniqueness of her immortality. Unlike other immortals, Buffy's lapse between death and life varied dramatically. Sometimes, like now, it was almost instantaneous. Other times it took up to 24 hours. Neither she nor Methos had been able to figure out what determined the timetable.  Whatever it was, she was infinitely happy that it decided now was a good time for a short lapse.   
  
   
  
Shaking herself out of her impromptu reverie, Buffy brought her attention back to her newly recovered adversary. The Claddagh ring burned in her hand, giving her a fresh reminder of why she was so pissed off in the first place. With a determined stride, Buffy stalked towards her enemy, hell bent on revenge.   
  
   
  
  
  
**************  
  
FEEDBACK!!! I love feedback they give me a happy!  
  
Forever Eyes  
  
Dark  
  
Somebody's Angel  
  
~Logan Cale  


	7. Revelations

Logan watched with an incredulous look of wonder, amazement, and disbelief on his face as pure pandemonium broke out in his living room. It was like that time when he was a kid and his parents took him to the circus, except now, instead of elephants standing on their heads, clowns riding unicycles, and acrobats gracefully leaping through the air, he had two beautiful women fighting... and one of them just went flying past him into the far wall... Maybe this wasn't that different from the circus, but in the circus, the acrobats usually didn't try to kill each other, and they definitely didn't destroy pricey apartments while doing it.  
  
The thought of his beloved, elegantly decorated house in danger was enough to bring him back to his present surroundings. Questions flitted though his mind like elusive hummingbirds. Each elegantly and speedily zooming past him with rapidly beating wings. One after another they came, so fast that he could barely catch one before another took its place.  
  
'What is going on here? Someone almost died! Why are they fighting? Why *were* they fighting? Oh, look, a peach, I'm hungry. I haven't had anything since lunch. Why are they on the coffee table? I thought I put them in the pantry. And why am I thinking about dinner when I should be thinking about the fight? And why can't I stop thinking about food?!"  
  
Logan watched with a horrified fascination as his best friend and the object of his affection duked it out in his living room. This dazzling display of mortal combat was made even more spectacular by the unnatural grace and fluidity with which both women moved. Their execution and coordination were astonishing. It was like watching dancers performing an elaborately choreographed routine. Each blow was swift and carried out with deadly intent, but that was what made it all the more titillating. They each possessed a dangerous edge that was breathtakingly beautiful, but Logan had eyes for Max alone. He winced as Max was assaulted with yet another staggering blow.  
  
'That has *got* to hurt'.  
  
Halfway through his contemplation of Max's moves, a thought suddenly hit him with the full force of a crashing tsunami.  
  
'Oh my God! Max is naked!'  
  
For a full minute (most likely more) all brain activity ceased as Logan's system tried, unsuccessfully, to absorbed the shock of this revelation. Then, almost immediately after, his mind kicked in to high gear.  
  
'Oh my God, Max is naked! Why haven't I noticed before? What am I, some sort of pervert? No, I'm a gentleman, I should turn around and stop staring- -wait! I can't, I have to stop the fight. What how do I do that without starring at Max? At her beautiful, luscious, creamy, silky, --STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!' Logan ordered himself. He needed to concentrate, he needed to stop the fight, and he needed to stop looking at Max's beautiful body. He needed to turn around. No, wait, first he needed to...he needed... AHH! He needed to begin forming coherent thoughts.  
  
'Come on, Think, Logan, think! Ok...um don't make eye contact, right. Look somewhere else. Like where? Oh, um, the floor! Okay, looking at the floor. Hmm, floor very shiny, did the cleaning lady wax it recently? It's so nice...and so clean. I can even see a clear reflection of everything above it...including Max...STOP TORTURING YOURSELF!!'  
  
Logan strode towards the two battling combatants trying hard to continue staring at the ceiling, which after the little fiasco with the floor, he had decided was the safest place to look. Keeping his neck at an unusual angle, he made his way toward the two women. Stopping a foot away from the action, Logan gave himself one last pep talk, took a deep breath, and put his brilliant plan into action.  
  
***********  
  
"STOP!!!"  
  
Buffy had all but forgotten Logan's presence until his sudden exclamation. A detached part of her brain registered his request as her body deftly deflected and inflicted blows with the single intent of outwitting Max. While all of this was happening, another part of Buffy's brain explored alternatives and looked for the best possible course of action. She sighed inwardly as she settled on the only probable approach.  
  
'Well, looks like there's no help for it. Logan's more important. Guess I'll have to take care of this bitca some other time. Man! The guy looks like he's gonna have a heart attack or something. .'  
  
Twisting to avoid another roundhouse, Buffy mustered her strength and delivered a thunderous uppercut. The power behind the punch proved truly formidable and Max went out like a light. Without another glance in the transgenic's direction she turned her gaze to Logan. She read surprise and worry in his  
  
eyes. They were fixated on the currently unconscious Max. Buffy could tell he was torn between helping Max and staying for an explanation. Buffy helped resolve his dilemma by stepping directly in his path, blocking the way to the brunette. Grabbing his arm gently but firmly, she commandeered his attention.  
  
"I'll make this short, Logan. That fight? Take my advice, don't ask, don't tell. Trust me, the less you know, the better," she paused for a moment, looking into his blue irises for any reaction. It was almost amusing to watch him wrestle between his caution and his curiosity. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling as every emotion he was feeling displayed itself clearly on his face: worry, confusion, shock. Seriously, the guy was way too easy to read. When he looked like he would stay quiet she continued.  
  
"Now, apart from the fight, I have something else to tell you Logan..." Buffy took a breath and then broke the news, "I know about Eyes Only."  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"That's not important," Buffy cut him off sharply, "All you need to know is this: you're in danger. There are things we need to discuss, but not here. Later. In private." With those words Buffy left a thoroughly bewildered Logan to his thoughts. She decided that it would be best to give him some time to  
  
process all that she had told him, however cryptic it was.  
  
Besides, the little displays of emotions registering on his face were starting to become painful. His worry was getting just *way* too palpable. Why couldn't all men be more mysterious and stoic? That way, she would actually have to guess at what they were thinking and how they were feeling. It would be so much easier if all guys were like Logan, but definitely less fun. Logan could take a lesson from Oz, she decided, or maybe even Giles. Heck, next to Logan's predictability, she even missed Angel's deadpan delivery of the most biting lines. Angel…why did she think of him? Bad *bad* brain, no thinking of Angel! That way laid heartache and pain and now was *not* a good time to poke at those still raw wounds. Quickly derailing that train of thought, she swiftly made her way to the door of the penthouse, only to find Max blocking her exit.  
  
"Its not over, you know," Max's voice was sharp with warning and steely resolve.  
  
"I'd let it go if I were you," advised Buffy quietly.  
  
"Well, I'm not you, now am I?" mocked Max  
  
"No, you're not," Buffy answered with a sardonic smile. Then she shoved her way past the brunette and left.  
  
*************  
  
Back in her own penthouse, Buffy paced back and forth in her room, wearing a track into the floor. Muttering and grumbling at some invisible entity, she only stopped occasionally to glare irately at her phone. Finally, after another half hour of debate with her invisible counterpart, Buffy picked up  
  
the phone and dialed the well-remembered number.  
  
"Hello?" Methos answered after three rings.  
  
"We've got a problem," stated Buffy candidly, not bothering to attempt an exchange of pleasantries.  
  
"What?" Methos was instantly alert, Buffy never called him unless she was really worried.  
  
"There's a girl, Max. I think she knows what I am, I mean, she doesn't know that I'm immortal or anything like that, but she knows something's up."  
  
"And how exactly would she know that?" Methos' voice was wry, and if she closed her eyes, Buffy could almost picture his eyebrow raised askance.  
  
"I *really* don't want to go into that," answered Buffy emphatically, "Besides, that's not the point-"  
  
"Then what *is* the point?" Methos interrupted impatiently.  
  
"The *point* is that she's dangerous-"  
  
"Will it be necessary to kill her?"  
  
"I'm not sure." A thick silence followed as they each pondered the implications of her reply. Only a true threat to her survival would have allowed Buffy to even contemplate taking a life. However annoying that life was…..  
  
"So..." said Methos, finally breaking the silence, "You wanna do lunch?"  
  
"'K." 


	8. HELLO!

Disclaimer etc on first chapters.  
  
"Match, set, and game!" Max declared as she triumphantly sank the eight ball into the left corner pocket.  
  
A loud and sudden burst of very colorful swearing immediately followed her announcement as the unfortunate loser looked in disbelief at the now empty pool table.  
  
The win had been a given.  
  
As soon as he had agreed to the bet, Max knew she had him in the palm of her hand. Like a cat toying with a helpless mouse, the skilled huntress stalked her prey vigilantly and eyed him with care. Max took an almost sadistic satisfaction in carefully crushing and slowly annihilating every single shred of her current victim's ego. Step by painstaking step she'd planned his demise, and with every strangled cry emitted by the cornered prey, her smile had grown larger.  
  
Moving in for the kill, Max casually extended her hand palm facing up towards him, demanding that he acknowledge his defeat by presenting her with the proper tribute.  
  
"Pay up, man."  
  
Truly terrified and still shaken by the horror of his ordeal, her victim ever so carefully set the money down on the table, afraid to make even the most minimal of physical contact.  
  
Once he thought he was a safe distance away, her genetically enhanced ears picked up him muttering something about black magic and witches under his breath. At the mention of magic, Max felt a sudden urge to chuckle. Men were such sore losers: Especially when they lose to a woman.  
  
'Oh well', Max thought cheerfully, fingering her wad of cash, 'If I give them enough practice at it, maybe they'll learn to become more graceful losers.'  
  
Idly pocketing her not-so-hard earned cash, Max strategically the scanned the room, silently challenging anyone else stupid enough to throw their money away.  
  
Seeing no takers, Max shrugged and confidently strutted back to her mini fan club, also known as her friends. Reaching the table, she was greeted with enthusiastic "Way to go's" and boisterous pats on the back: And of course there was the cheering. Her friends always cheered, regardless of the opponent. No one even tried to keep track of the score anymore. There was really no point.  
  
In all the times she'd played pool: Or any other competitive sport for that matter, she'd never failed to win a game. Nowadays all her friends just naturally presumed she was victorious- and they hadn't been wrong yet.  
  
Weaving her way through her crowd of friends, Max took it all in. Everyone cheered equally, they were all equally loud and equally enthusiastic but they all cheered for different reasons. Herbal 'cause he was just cool that way, Sketchy cause it meant beer was on her, and Original Cindy simply because Max's victim had been a man. As though thoughts alone were enough to summon her, Max saw Original Cindy coming towards her as soon as she reached the table. "Hey, boo, nice game," she smirked, handing Max a beer, beer that Max was paying for of course.  
  
"Thanks," Max nodded. She then proceeded to guzzle down the entire bottle of beer in one long gulp. Really un-lady, but hey, when had she ever been concerned about appearances? Well.except for the fence or two. But that didn't count, that was . a hazard of the job: Ending that train of thought with a mental shrug, Max concentrated on the feel of the beer sliding down her throat. It was a welcome relief to her system and her body responded by letting out a loud burp in appreciation.  
  
Having long since become accustomed to such displays of bodily humor Original Cindy did not so much as blink in response. Instead she waited patiently for Max to return her attention to more important things, like her.  
  
The patience was probably what gave OC away. Eyeing her best friend carefully, Max skeptically raised one delicately plucked eyebrow in question.  
  
"So, what's on your mind?"  
  
"What you mean, Boo? Original Cindy don't got to have no reason to give her gal props."  
  
The next ten minutes were filled with insincere denials by Original Cindy and quiet scrutiny by Max. Finally, unable to take another minute of Max's silent interrogation, OC relented. Rolling her eyes and slumping down her shoulders to show her general annoyance with the subject, OC finally revealed what had been on her mind for the past several days.  
  
"Alright, you wanna know what's been on mah mind lately? You! As in how you been actin' lately. You come home and OC sees all these mad bruises and you tell your boo nothing? What's up with that?"  
  
"Look, I don't wanna talk about it, k? Its not.it's not something I wanna talk about." Now instead of the cold, emotionless stare OC was so used to, Max had a look of genuine vulnerability: Something she didn't display often, if ever. It was a silent plea, willing her to understand and, hopefully, drop this subject as a sign of respect, for both her privacy and their friendship.  
  
Knowing Max as well as she did and recognizing the signs that she would not budge on the subject, no matter how much OC pushed, Cindy relented and let it go.for now. Instead, she chose to move on to her next favorite topic of conversational torture.  
  
"So, when are you and richie boy gonna hook up?"  
  
"We're not like that," Max said, giving her standard reply: Even to her own ears the protest sounded hallow. It seemed she just wasn't up to playing the denial game tonight: Especially after experiencing the huge bout of jealousy no so long ago. Even now the green-eyed monster threatened to rear its ugly head just at the mere thought of Buffy going after Logan.  
  
Almost as if on cue, a petite blonde wearing a silver ring chose at this exact moment to walk over to Max's general direction. Her ultra-human senses allowed her to spot the other girl right away and although her face was turned away, Max just knew in her gut that the girl making her way over was none other than Buffy, the mystery tramp herself.  
  
The rest of her body quickly followed her gut's advice and promptly went into overdrive. Her once relaxed posture shifted visibly and the lingering hint of amusement, left over from her earlier slaughter, quickly faded. Max smiled, trying to her best to preserve her false countenance of casualness but there was no longer anything even remotely casual about her smile. Her posture was tense as she prepared herself both mentally and physically for any possible action. Like a lioness within striking distance of her prey, she was ready to pounce at a moment's notice.  
  
Step by step the blonde slowly made her way over to Max, offering herself for the kill without even realizing it. As the frenzy in Max reached an all- time climactic high, the girl finally turned, allowing Max to clearly see her face.  
  
It wasn't Buffy.  
  
Max could instantly feel her alarm system deflating. It was just a girl, just some random, ordinary blonde who had come within inches of losing her life. Letting out a soft sigh, Max shook her head in disbelief at her own idiocy.  
  
'Max, girlfriend, you need to calm yourself down, otherwise your paranoia's gonna make you jump every blonde in sight.' And that just wasn't right, cause as far as Max was concerned, blondes already had enough to deal with as it is, they shouldn't have to also worry about being attacked by some homicidal brunette, especially not a brunette killing out of jealousy.  
  
Turning her focus back to OC, she couldn't help but notice the grave look of concern on Original Cindy's face as she tried to get back into the partying mood.  
  
My life is yours for the taking  
  
But only if you prove yourself worthy  
  
Max spread out her senses instantly searching for the source of the conversation she had overheard.  
  
'What the hell was that?' Her attention was diverted when she realized Original Cindy was looking at her a little too closely.  
  
'Shit' "Listen OC, I gotta go k? I'll tell you later." By the time she was done with her sentence Max was already half way to the door and a glance back told her OC was not happy with her abrupt departure. Oh well, she'd smooth that out later. Right now there was work to be done. Something was going down, she could feel it.  
  
Girls kick ass, says so on the t-shirt ~Max  
  
AN: I know I know. Short. But I promise! I'll try to update much sooner next time and I know you guys have been waiting a while. Just to reassure I am determined to finish this so this story will never be left hanging I've just had a pretty severe case of writer's block and RL was no pretty trip through la la land. Anyways next chapter will have a lot more action I promise! 


	9. Challenge

Crash was dark, dank, and loud; just the way she liked it. The music pounded into the night and the bricks of the building vibrated from the sonic force blaring from the speakers. The tangy scent of sweat, sex, and pheromones permeated the air and filled each patron's nostrils, stimulating every pulsating body, seducing every youth. Taking it all in, Buffy simply stood, soaking up the atmosphere. She missed places like these: It reminded her of the Bronze, and even though the thought of her former life brought her pain, she took solace in the familiarity. There was so little time nowadays to indulge, kinda ironic considering how she now had all the time in the world.  
  
No matter. Tonight was not a night for melancholy remembrance. No, tonight she would revel and have fun. Well there was work too, but mostly fun.she hoped.  
  
"Tell me again why we're here?" asked Methos breaking through her reverie. His dark hair was already a mess and they hadn't been there for more than five minutes.  
  
"We're working!" replied Buffy all too brightly, "It's the best place to look for a head hunter. It's easier to find other immortals if you're in a crowded place. Duh."  
  
"Right," said Methos, eyeing the sea of raging hormones referred to as the dance floor. He *really* did not want to go anywhere near it. It may be all good and fun for Buffy, and perhaps it was his old age, but he preferred staying at home with a nice book. Running his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time, Methos looked up just in time to catch the younger immortal throwing him a sly look. Raising an eyebrow at her instantly angelic demeanor, it occurred to him that Buffy clearly saw how he felt about this and was enjoying it way too much.  
  
Still trying to figure out how he'd been talked into this, Methos felt a sudden tug on his hand. Glancing up from his reveries, he had only enough time to catch of glimpse of gold before he felt his entire body lurch from the force of Buffy's pull. He regained his bearings in time to find himself being dragged towards the dance floor, the very object or rather organism of his chagrin. Resigning himself to what was to come, Methos sighed. Fortifying himself like a warrior going to battle and facing insurmountable odds, he strode on.  
  
Dragging Methos with her, Buffy weaved her way through a thick crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Emerging on the other side, she made a beeline towards the bar, the best place to get information anywhere. Pointing to the beer tap, she signaled the bartender and held up two fingers. The bartender didn't even pause as he simultaneously mixed a Manhattan, filled up 2 tankards, and listened sympathetically to another patron.  
  
'Now *that's* multitasking,' observed Buffy admiringly.  
  
It was a while before Methos was able to join her, they'd gotten separated somewhere in the sea of people. He looked scandalized by the whole experience. He'd lived through more than one age of debauchery, but it seemed being surrounded by horny, mindless teenagers was a bit too much for him. Picking up her tankard, Buffy tried valiantly to hide the amused grin that was threatening to split her face. He looked dazed and, she suspected, not the least bit happy.  
  
Working quickly, she handed him the second tankard from the counter and seated him in an empty stool.  
  
"Calm, Adam, calm" soothed Buffy jokingly.  
  
"You love seeing me suffer, don't you?" Methos accused wryly. The shock of being immersed in body parts had worn off enough that he again looked relatively composed.  
  
"Why whatever do you mean?" asked Buffy, looking innocent but for the mischief that lit her eyes. Seeing the unflappable ancient so uncomfortable was definitely an added bonus to the night out. Her amusement, however, was short lived.  
  
Within the whirlwind of bodies, and music, a single awareness had overshadowed all else. An immortal; a powerful one. The noise around her silenced, and her world narrowed to two heartbeats. The one *Other*, and her. Closer and closer the other's heartbeat neared. 10 feet.5 feet. Buffy felt her blood freeze and then roar in her ears as the *other* made itself known. Stepping out of the crowd he walked calmly toward the bar, shook his head to the offer of beer from the bartender and simply stood.  
  
"Chronos." Methos acknowledged the new comer with a frigid glare.  
  
"Methos." Chronos nodded, his demeanor just as cold.  
  
There was no love lost between the two.  
  
It was a well known fact that Methos was a pacifist, and it was just as well known that Chronos sought out conflict like Methos avoided it.  
  
The fact was greatly frustrating for Chronos. He usually preyed on the weaker of the immortals, the newly risen. Methos was the exception. As the oldest known immortal, Methos was his holy grail. It was unfortunate and damn annoying that Methos always such a cautious man. Under Law he need not accept challenges were he on sacred ground, and Methos *ALWAYS* ended up on sacred ground if he were challenged. In fact, Chronos would not be the least bit surprised if Methos had a bottle of holy water on his person at all times for emergency blessings.  
  
The only thing that could possibly lure Methos out of his little shell would be his ridiculous sense of honor. And that.was what Chronos was determined to expose. Switching his focus, Chronos' gaze landed on Buffy, Methos' first pupil in over a millennium. Honor dictated that the mentor avenge the student and grief would no doubt make Methos sloppy.  
  
He'd heard rumors of Buffy's power and he couldn't wait to test it. With a barely perceptible move, Chronos issued the age old challenge of one immortal to another. The chit's eyes widened and Methos reached inside his coat and fingered something.  
  
'Oh God,' thought Chronos exasperatedly, 'is he reaching for the holy water?'  
  
Buffy's innards did a little summersault as she took in the full impact of the challenge. Chronos was *old*..and powerful. Well, usually in the world where the game was dominant you didn't get to the old age without the power thing. Come to think of it, she would really have to get around to asking Methos how he'd survived for so long without dying. She'd kicked his ass more than once. Of course, she could always take the excuse he gave about him *letting* her win..nah.  
  
Thinking of her past battles and Methos' training calmed her, if she could beat Methos she had to at least have a chance. 'Sides, from what she'd heard Chronos was used to weaker opponents. The big bully.  
  
'I bet he has childhood issues,' thought Buffy cattily.  
  
She would not be weak, far from it. To accept would be dangerous, yes, but to decline would be suicidal. Chronos was known for going to extremes to get his opponents to accept challenges and she refused to see those she cared for hurt. Again.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Buffy accepted, "My life is yours for the taking, but only if you prove yourself worthy."  
  
Their gazes clashed, and through mutual consent, both headed toward the door. Before Buffy could get past Methos, he intercepted her and gave her a last bit of advice, "Don't get sloppy, he's dangerous. I would miss you."  
  
"Thanks," replied Buffy, quirking her lips, a morbid humor lighting her eyes, "But if I die, you can have my computer." 


	10. Heads Roll

AN: I know this has taken forever but RL has just been in the way so much and I just want to thank all the readers who have been emailing about this story. You guys really make my DAY. I would also like to thank Ky for being an awesome beta and practically writing this for me. :D I would also like to thank Nina for her unwavering support and enthusiasm. Your mini me salutes you. And once again thanks everyone!  
  
The night flowed around her, caressing her like shadowed silk. Hidden well beneath the dark of a moonless night, Max stalked, silently tracking the scent of her elusive prey. There was a steady sense of certainty within her that the two voices she had heard were important. Even now, running free and letting the cool night air pass over her, she felt unease creep up her spine, a cold unsoothing balm. Something was up, something important, and she was gonna' find out what.  
  
Pausing in the middle of her chase, Max sniffed the air, trying to locate the next turn they had taken. A faint trace of light vanilla still lingered, like the remnant of a long exorcised ghost... left. Following the sharp and elegant smell of vanilla, Max found her self being pulled swiftly through the Seattle's best and worst. In a small alley of brick walls squeezed between restaurant dumps, Max kneeled fingering the dust on the floor of the cracked asphalt. They were close now, all signs seemed to show they were heading for the closed down harbor up ahead. Straightening up, she dusted off her hands and continued moving. It wouldn't do to show up after those two had finished doing whatever they needed to get done. What was the fun in that? There was no doubt in her mind that were she to arrive too late, none of the puzzles floating within her head would be solved, but many new ones added.  
  
With the answers to her questions so very near, Max sped on decisively, expertly picking her way through the half eaten burgers and discarded candy wrappers, barely touching the ground as she moved. It always did amaze her how much food people wasted while others starved. Not that she was going to do anything like eat from the alley. She was soldier enough to note the waste, but far too Max to take advantage of it. A girl had her pride. "Your life is forfeit."  
  
Halting suddenly at the sound of voices, Max quickly maneuvered herself behind a pile of rotting crates at the edge of the harbor.  
  
In the distance the muted roar of the ocean could be heard, and above that, the hiss of steel being let loose from a scabbard. White steam rose from a storm drain nearby, and through the smoke two wavering figures stood.  
**************************************************  
  
"Your life is forfeit." Stated Chronos calmly, as though waiting for her to fall to her knees and offer him her head. To him, her death was a forgone conclusion...idiot.  
"Do you people ever learn any new lines?" Buffy asked, going off on one of her favorite rants, "Why do you have to be so typical? Especially you really really old people. Thousands of years old and all you guys can come up with is 'Your life if forfeit' or 'Shall we dance'. Oh yeah, and the most creative one of the bunch, 'Now you die.' Where do you guys get those lines? B movies? They're cheesy as hell. Seriously people. Have some standards, you have eternity, work with it."  
  
"I am sorry to have disappointed you," Chronos replied, his mouth curved with a polite smile, a cold fire lighting his eyes, "but certain things are classics for a reason after all."  
  
'Damn,' Thought Buffy noting Chronos' response. 'This is not good. Majorly not of the good.' There were few opponents that bantered back. They usually got annoyed with her and charged. Chronos was staying way too cool headed for her comfort. That usually meant a hard long fight. The last time an opponent had bantered back had been Duncan Mcleod. Granted that was years ago, but she still remembered the kiss of cold steel as it sliced effortlessly through her hair and stopped a centimeter away from her flesh. It was her luck that Methos had been the one who put Duncan up to it otherwise she would've been dead. As it were, that one close call had been one lesson too many. She never underestimated her opponents anymore, especially the ones who bantered. But if keeping calm was the key to winning, she suddenly wasn't so sure she was a shoe in. The energy coming off of the bastard was frightening.  
  
Chronos' power was a dark pulsing thing, and she could feel it reach out for her. It took all she had not to flinch as it flared, almost as if it would consume her even before her final death. What if this was it? What if this time it was her essence sucked into that dark hole of immortal power? Taking a breath, Buffy centered herself and staved off an edge of panic for the instant where she contemplated failure. Sure his eyes were scary and empty, and sure he was tall and probably weighed two of her. Didn't mean she couldn't win. She of all people ought to know better. She'd battled and survived thousands of apocalypses and the demons that summoned them. The Slayer wasn't about to lose to a measly immortal.  
  
Looking at him, Buffy summoned her battle calm and simply waited. The wait was not long. It seemed that while she had been feeling him out, Chronos had also conducted his own inspection. That cold mocking smile once again emerged on his deceptively handsome face, "Shall we dance?"  
  
Before she could bite out a sarcastic reply, he charged swinging his sword up in an offensive arc. Silver flashed in the dim light as she attempted to duck his attack, barely bringing her sword up in time to keep the blade from slicing through her neck. His eyes flashed with blood-thirsty pleasure as he pushed his weight into her, chocking her with the dull edge of her own sword.  
  
Buffy gulped, as she resisted the pressure, her vision slowly clouding over. With a burst of adrenaline-laced strength, she pushed him off her body and flipped upright to parry as he continued his attack. Deftly, she countered Chronos' every move, as his unrelenting barrage backed her into an alley wall. The bright sound of steel hitting steel echoed through the dark at a pace Buffy could barely keep up with.  
  
She was getting tired. Her arms strained each time his sword clashed against hers, and she dully realized if she didn't end this soon, he would. It was time to bring the fight to him, so to speak. A small smile twisted across her features as she paused, holding her blade still in front of her.  
  
"I will wipe that smile from your face," he hissed.  
  
He drew back as if to deliver a killing blow only to thrust into still air as Buffy somersaulted over his head, landing on her feet behind him. Changing the grip on her sword Buffy slashed in an upward arc.  
  
But he was too quick. Without looking, he sliced the sharp weapon underneath his right arm- pushing it into Buffy's abdomen. The sick sound of renting flesh was the only thing she was aware of as warm blood trickled down her leg. Her mouth fell open soundlessly as he roughly pulled his sword from her gut and turned to face his victim. Buffy's green eyes dulled as her legs gave out, and she dropped heavily to her knees. An uncomfortable thought registered- she was at the perfect height for him to take her head. She glanced up at Chronos' towering form, cringing at the gleeful look that crossed his features as he drew back for the kill.  
  
"You're mine."  
  
There was no way she was going down like this.  
  
With that thought, she fell backwards; swinging her boot with all of her strength at her opponent's knee. There was a wet pop, as the joint broke. Rolling to her side, Buffy pushed up and waveringly stood her ground.  
  
Chronos struggled to crawl to his dropped sword, an animal-like moan deep in his throat as Buffy staggered across the pavement after him. Weakly, she kicked it out of his reach. The sword skidded past him as he lunged for it, screaming as he fell on his broken limb.  
  
Buffy watched him with un-feeling eyes. A coldness seeping through her as she gathered her strength and raised her blade, "Thanks for the dance."  
  
With shriek of pain, she brought the sword down, letting her weight carry it through the sinew and bone of Chronos' thick neck. Weak and unable to stop her forward motion she landed with a queasy thud on top of her challenger's corpse; watching as his head rolled away. Fibers of his shirt invaded her mouth and she tasted the nauseating tang of sweat and blood. It occurred to her that he was still warm as she tried to shove her body off of him, but it was no use. She didn't have the strength.  
  
A feeling like static electricity flowed from the palms of her hands up her arms, causing the hair on her body to stand up straight. She shuddered as the tingling increased, shivering across her skin and into her bones. An electric transformer she hadn't noticed earlier sent out a shower of sparks as shimmering luminescence gathered around her in violent electrical storm. Lightening raged, swirling unnaturally around her. Abruptly, the bolts paused and coiled like a snake about to strike. Buffy quivered as the slow motion electric cobra reared and thrust into her body, lifting her up and tossing her petite form into the air. She hovered for a moment, a bright shining thing before the lightning coiled and surged into her setting her cells on fire. With a final hiss, it threw her to the ground and dissipated.  
  
The world was mute but for the sound of rushing blood and with a gasp, Buffy tried to rise; pushing up on her elbows. The rough pavement scraped her skin as her arms gave out underneath her. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing hard. Building her resolve, Buffy tried again only to gasped in surprise as a hand grasped her arm. Her eyes flew open weakly registering Max's face.  
  
Her eyes kind of look like Angel's.  
  
With that thought, the slayer passed out. 


	11. Conversations With Death

Title: A Lifetime Apart, Part 11

Rating: PG 13 for now

Author: Specks

Disclamer: Mutant Enemy, Fox and all those network honchos and writers own all, I own nothing, don't sue.

Synopsis: Buffy/ Dark Angel crossover with Highlander elements. An immortal Buffy finds herself in Seattle, Max's world. The two meet and clash, what happens next? Read and find out.

Pairings: M/L and B/A with implied B/S

Spoilers: Not much of Dark Angel, up to first season finale I guess. Spoilers up to mid season six I guess.

Author's Notes 1: I would like to thank my beta readers Jolie and Kyria. You guys are the bestest! Without you two I would never have gotten this chapter ready for posting! Also thanks for reminding me that there are actually people out there willing to read it without me paying them lolz. hugz Thanks so much!  
Author's notes 2: Special thanks to Nina G. Your constant prodding and impromptu suggestions have shaped this fic into something I haven't anticipated. Its greatly inspired me. Also thanks to my penguin, I know I'm a pain but hey, that's why you love me. G

Feedback: Yes! I crave feedback, I'll even dance a jig on top of a bowling pin if you give it to me. See? does jig…falls off bowling pin Ok, maybe not on the bowling pin but you get the idea. Any constructive criticism would be welcome as well. Email me at thanks!

Buffy sits, gazing down at rolling emerald-green hills as far as the eye can see. The only interruption, a tiny cottage that stands nestled within the valley below, its chimney releasing small puffs of white smoke into the clear sunny air. It is exactly the kind of house she's always pictured when she thought of Ireland or Scotland. Red brick walls, a thatched roof, and a small picket fence to keep the house animals in.

'_How charming_.' she thinks, wandering into the yard. "Hello!" she calls out, reluctant to disturb it's occupants, "Hello?"

"Buffy?" An unmistakable voice calls out to her in answer: smooth and rich like dark chocolate.

"Angel?" she says his name, a breathless question she is almost afraid to ask.

"What are you standing out there for, baby?" he asks, his voice light and laughing, happier than ever.

The cottage doors open, the world blurs, and suddenly he is there, physically there; Holding her in his arms, kissing the top of her forehead as though the last twenty years has not happened. For an eternal, breathless moment, she wraps herself in the potency of his essence, caving into his embrace. He smells like rain and night and hot chocolate made fresh with marshmallows still floating on top. He smells like him, like home. It's so good to be home. But before the shock of his presence can register, he is pulling her along to the entrance of the house.

"Come here, I need to show you something."

Reluctantly she follows, stopping as she stands before an old wooden door, "What did you want to show me?" she asks in a child-like voice she can hardly recognize as her own.

He smiles his non-smile, all mysterious cryptic guy again. "It's what we've always wanted. Open it and see."

She smiles back at him, forgetting for the time being that this wasn't real, that he wasn't really here, smiling down at her so beautifully surrounded by the glowing sunlight. Together, with his hand covering hers', they pull on the door handle.

Whiteness emanates from the opened door blinding her. When she can see again, she finds herself in the middle of Angel's bed, a hand covering the area above his heart, feeling the steady thump thump thump of his blood beating against the suddenly hot flesh of her palms. Sunlight streams through uncovered French windows, and she watches, in quiet amazement as he greets his first sunrise in over two hundred years. Tears, love, and gratitude mingle in their shared kiss, and she feels her heart swell with unspeakable emotion.

She is compelled to reach for him, to run her fingers through his soft, sleep-ridden hair, but her hand passes through his muscular frame, landing on the soft comforter as he fades away into nothingness. Curling her fingers into the soft pliable cotton sheets where he had lain not moments before, she grieves for something that never was.

The silence of the moment is broken when she hears voices in the distance. Following them into the old study, she finds herself suddenly hovering; Watching a younger version of herself sobbing into the shoulder of her one-time lover. Blubbering and murmuring, with sorrow as deep and as wide as an ocean welling in her eyes.

She feels it then, watching her double there; A phantom echo of a keening pain that carves its way into her soul and cleaves at it. Screaming at her to remember. To remember because they had promised that she would never forget.

_I'll never forget_

_I'll never forget_

_I'll never forget…_

"You know you can't blame yourself, B," a matter of fact voice from the past admonishes, "You can't find your future if you don't let go of the past."

The scene changes again and she finds herself kneeling with her face still buried in her hands. She tastes salt from dried tears as she looks up at the girl she has sometimes hated and always loved. Faith is standing over her with her signature cocky grin-- thumbs looped into the pockets of black leather pants, her husky hazelnut skin shining darkly, silhouetted against the blazing sun. Rising to her feet, Buffy has to squint against the glare to get a better look. For a long moment neither move, watching the inane movements of shadows dancing along soft moss and dark dirt; Another second passes, then smiling sadly, Buffy can't help herself as she tucks a loose strand of chestnut colored hair behind Faith's left ear. Sorrow, regret, and so much more packed into one tender gesture.

"I miss you." she says simply.

"You shouldn't," says Faith giving her the barest ghost of a smile, "I mean. I've been dead how many years now?"

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't miss you," Buffy insists, "I never got to say goodbye. That I was sorry for all the shit I put you through."

"Eh" Faith shrugs, "You had a stick up your ass, but it wasn't totally your fault. I had issues."

"Still." Buffy frowns gravely, fisting her hands, remembering their shared history. "I could have done something."

Faith's eyes deepen, locking with Buffy's. "You'll get your chance." For a moment, knowledge lights within twin pools of darkness, eloquent and mysterious: holding the fathomless secrets of the stars. Time is counted between breaths and heartbeats-- nothing moves: And then just as suddenly as it had arrived, the infinite cloak of power falls, and Faith is just Faith again: making light of heavy matters. "Besides, it wasn't like I sent a postcard."

"Yeah, you were pretty MIA" Buffy admits, ignoring the chill of air suddenly colder, "If I hadn't had that dream I'd still think you were alive."

"What makes you think I'm not?" Faith asks, then laughs as she watches Buffy's face blank from shock, "Don't have a cow B. Just kiddin'. I'm dead as a door knob."

"Not funny."

"Sure it is," says Faith with a careless shrug. "Death's always funny. You laugh and laugh until your gut cramps and your lungs hurt and then you die. It's how life works."

With a sudden switch in mood and subject, Faith lifts her hand in a sweeping gesture, "Like my new digs?".

"Never figured fairy tales were your thing." Buffy nods at the majestic white castle towering behind the other girl, worn and cracked by time, neglect, and the constant prodding of insistent rose vines.

"Sleeping Beauty and I got a lot in common." Faith says, a wicked grin flashing briefly across her features, "Don't you think?"

"Yeah." Buffy acknowledges quietly, "I think."

"Anyways, that's not why we're here right now." Faith turns away, wandering idly over to a rose bush, running her fingers delicately across it's white, silk -soft petals.

"Then why are we here?" Buffy asks, watching her darker half warily.

"Don't you know?" Faith sing-songs mockingly, and for a moment they both watch in morbid fascination as a single drop of scarlet falls from her thorn pricked fingertip. Then one drop is replaced by two and then more and more and suddenly the sky is no longer light and shining like the wholesome image of fairy tale dreams. It is a foreboding dark made up of shades of gray raining crimson.

Death floods Buffy's senses, rushing through her nose and mouth and drowning her lungs in the taste of liquid pennies. Beneath the distant roar of the bleeding sky, Buffy watches in horror as Faith's body slowly deteriorates . Like the wilting of a week old rose-- her skin is no longer the color of sweetened honey dew and just ripe olives—instead it is cracked and dry with the milky paleness of death. Her body has become a shrunken wrinkled heap and as she begins to melt under the rain, Faith bares her wrinkled, rotten, lips into a grotesque grin. Her voice: clear and sharp, echoes within Buffy's head. "It's all about the blood B. Always. You, Me, Him, Her. You can't escape it 'cause it will always run through your veins, burning and howling and clawing at you until you die…oh wait." A derisive laugh, "You can't die, can you B? Bummer."

Buffy feels desperation grow as she sees Faith's image retreating into the distance. Running she chases frantically after the other girl.

"What do you mean Faith? Who are you talking about? What's happening?"

The silence of the roaring sky is all that answers her queries. Then, as gray and crimson slowly washes away into blinding white, she hears a last whisper from the long dead apparition, "It's all in the blood B. Forget, and you might remember."


End file.

Buffy X-overs, Romance