OoSooM-Ch.11

Buffy hadn't sat still for more than five seconds at a time since Cordelia had shown them what was going on in their world.

The knowledge that Spike and Dawn were still alive in itself was staggering, given the odds of their survival after the End of Days, with demons and various other non-human entities roaming the Earth unchecked, with no law to govern them but anarchy and chaos.

But, knowing that it had been well over a century for them there made her stomach clench into a tight knot.

From the little that she'd seen of Angelus' treatment of them, it was nothing short of a miracle that they were both alive, and had their sanity intact.

“Buffy, sit down before I have to do something dramatic,” Methos told her, after having watched her pace incessantly for the better part of an hour.

Shooting Methos a glare that would've frozen the lake of fire itself, the Slayer didn't pause in her circuit, and kept pacing.

Methos heaved a sigh. “I warned you,” he said, then filched an arrow from Legolas' quiver and flicked his wrist, watching dispassionately as it thunked home in Buffy's chest and she dropped like a rock, lying still on the ground.

“No. But, she was driving me there, with all that pacing and muttering,” Methos said nonchalantly.

Cordelia and Angel approached, the Higher Being looking none too pleased with her dark-haired companion.

Cordelia's lips compressed into a thin line. “The idiot wants to go back to Sunnydale with you,” she said. “Even though I've told him that there's a chance Angelus might be sucked back into his body.”

Methos looked at Angel, taking in his guilty expression, and fought the urge to scream and throw things. At this rate, it would be millennia before they were organized enough to attempt a rescue of any sort.

“Because I'm older and wiser, and I say so, that's why,” Methos told him with a smug grin.

Angel's eyes narrowed and Methos' grin widened. “Please, do start a fight. I'm just itching to go one-on-one with the cradle-robbing creature of the night that is single-handedly responsible for ripping my girlfriend's heart out and stomping on it,” the Immortal told him, a deadly glint entering his eyes.

She shrugged and gave him a beatific smile. “He's got a point. About the older and wiser thing.”

“Ours,” the Higher Being said. “You're not always right, Angel. Accept it and move on, before I smack you with something really big and heavy. Possibly more than once.”

Angel sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! I was only saying that considering I had Angelus in my head for over a century, I might stand a better chance of fighting him, but nevermind. I'll just sit here and watch them get themselves killed.”

“You are such a drama queen, Angel,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. “Buffy's already beat Angelus once. Granted, she ended up sending you to Hell in his place, but she had him on his knees and was going for the kill. She's not some shrinking violet you have to protect from the world anymore, Angel. She's the Slayer. Fighting things like Angelus is her destiny, and she's the best there is.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don't sell her short. This isn't your fight. And even if it was, it's not worth the risk of Angelus regaining control of your body. I know Galadriel said that it wasn't possible for you to lose your soul, but you've done some pretty Angelus-esque things with your soul, Angel. And Angelus is really, really strong now. He's a century and change older than you. He might be stronger than your soul. We can't take that chance.”

Cordelia smirked. “I live for these moments, Angel. Let me gloat and I'll be nice to you later.”

After having removed the arrow and letting Buffy revive, Methos had become suspiciously scarce, telling Legolas to find him when it was time to go through the portal, if he hadn't returned by then.

Buffy had taken out her sword and was cleaning it fastidiously, looking up every few minutes as Methos passed within sensing range, then ducked away again before she could pinpoint him.

“He's so on the couch for the next fifty years,” she muttered, still pissed that he'd temporarily killed her earlier.

Add to that the fact that she'd been mid-way through a workable rescue plan when he'd thrown the arrow at her, and Methos was lucky he'd gotten away in one piece, since the temporary death had sufficiently wiped her mind of the plan she'd been working on as she paced.

“Arrogant, self-centered, over-confident, pompous, narcissistic, sadistic, stubborn, idiotic, antiquated, immature, out-dated, inbred, goat-spawned bastard,” Buffy muttered under her breath, running the oilcloth down the length of her sword and watching the sunlight glint off of it brightly.

Buffy turned and glowered at him, realizing that he'd been moving in and out of her sensing range so that she would ignore it and not recognize that he hadn't taken off again the last time she'd sensed him. Instead, he'd snuck up on her and eavesdropped.

“You're awfully irritable, Buffy,” Methos commented. “I've killed you plenty of times…cheated, even, and you weren't this angry. What gives?”

Familiar with the way thoughts tended to disappear upon temporary death, Methos had the good sense to look abashed. “Sorry, luv. The pacing was driving me insane.”

“I'll remember that for future reference,” Methos told her. “Have you come up with anything else while I was…sightseeing?”

“Yeah. We go through the portal and kill anything that moves,” Buffy told him sarcastically. At his skeptical look, she smirked. “What? My quota is one brilliant idea per catastrophe. You mind-fucked this one. So, the plan is to go in and kill stuff.”


	Middle Earth 3 days after the End of Days (Middle Earth time) Buffy hadn't sat still for more than five seconds at a time since Cordelia had shown them what was going on in their world. The knowledge that Spike and Dawn were still alive in itself was staggering, given the odds of their survival after the End of Days, with demons and various other non-human entities roaming the Earth unchecked, with no law to govern them but anarchy and chaos. But, knowing that it had been well over a century for them there made her stomach clench into a tight knot. From the little that she'd seen of Angelus' treatment of them, it was nothing short of a miracle that they were both alive, and had their sanity intact. “Buffy, sit down before I have to do something dramatic,” Methos told her, after having watched her pace incessantly for the better part of an hour. Shooting Methos a glare that would've frozen the lake of fire itself, the Slayer didn't pause in her circuit, and kept pacing. Methos heaved a sigh. “I warned you,” he said, then filched an arrow from Legolas' quiver and flicked his wrist, watching dispassionately as it thunked home in Buffy's chest and she dropped like a rock, lying still on the ground. Legolas stared at Methos, wide-eyed. “Are you mad?” “No. But, she was driving me there, with all that pacing and muttering,” Methos said nonchalantly. Cordelia and Angel approached, the Higher Being looking none too pleased with her dark-haired companion. Methos quirked an eyebrow at her. “What did he do now?” Cordelia's lips compressed into a thin line. “The idiot wants to go back to Sunnydale with you,” she said. “Even though I've told him that there's a chance Angelus might be sucked back into his body.” Methos looked at Angel, taking in his guilty expression, and fought the urge to scream and throw things. At this rate, it would be millennia before they were organized enough to attempt a rescue of any sort. “You're not going,” Methos told the vampire simply, not even blinking as Angel growled. “Why should I listen to you?” “Because I'm older and wiser, and I say so, that's why,” Methos told him with a smug grin. Angel's eyes narrowed and Methos' grin widened. “Please, do start a fight. I'm just itching to go one-on-one with the cradle-robbing creature of the night that is single-handedly responsible for ripping my girlfriend's heart out and stomping on it,” the Immortal told him, a deadly glint entering his eyes. Angel gaped at him in stupefied silence for a moment, then looked at Cordelia desperately. She shrugged and gave him a beatific smile. “He's got a point. About the older and wiser thing.” “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Angel demanded, glowering at her. “Ours,” the Higher Being said. “You're not always right, Angel. Accept it and move on, before I smack you with something really big and heavy. Possibly more than once.” Angel sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! I was only saying that considering I had Angelus in my head for over a century, I might stand a better chance of fighting him, but nevermind. I'll just sit here and watch them get themselves killed.” “You are such a drama queen, Angel,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. “Buffy's already beat Angelus once. Granted, she ended up sending you to Hell in his place, but she had him on his knees and was going for the kill. She's not some shrinking violet you have to protect from the world anymore, Angel. She's the Slayer. Fighting things like Angelus is her destiny, and she's the best there is.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don't sell her short. This isn't your fight. And even if it was, it's not worth the risk of Angelus regaining control of your body. I know Galadriel said that it wasn't possible for you to lose your soul, but you've done some pretty Angelus-esque things with your soul, Angel. And Angelus is really, really strong now. He's a century and change older than you. He might be stronger than your soul. We can't take that chance.” Angel glared at her. “I hate when you out-logic me.” Cordelia smirked. “I live for these moments, Angel. Let me gloat and I'll be nice to you later.” After having removed the arrow and letting Buffy revive, Methos had become suspiciously scarce, telling Legolas to find him when it was time to go through the portal, if he hadn't returned by then. Buffy had taken out her sword and was cleaning it fastidiously, looking up every few minutes as Methos passed within sensing range, then ducked away again before she could pinpoint him. “He's so on the couch for the next fifty years,” she muttered, still pissed that he'd temporarily killed her earlier. Add to that the fact that she'd been mid-way through a workable rescue plan when he'd thrown the arrow at her, and Methos was lucky he'd gotten away in one piece, since the temporary death had sufficiently wiped her mind of the plan she'd been working on as she paced. “Arrogant, self-centered, over-confident, pompous, narcissistic, sadistic, stubborn, idiotic, antiquated, immature, out-dated, inbred, goat-spawned bastard,” Buffy muttered under her breath, running the oilcloth down the length of her sword and watching the sunlight glint off of it brightly. “Ouch…that smarts,” Methos piped from behind her. Buffy turned and glowered at him, realizing that he'd been moving in and out of her sensing range so that she would ignore it and not recognize that he hadn't taken off again the last time she'd sensed him. Instead, he'd snuck up on her and eavesdropped. “Hope you got an earful, Pony-boy,” she fairly snarled at him. “You're awfully irritable, Buffy,” Methos commented. “I've killed you plenty of times…cheated, even, and you weren't this angry. What gives?” “I was in the middle of a plan when you killed me, asshole,” Buffy snapped. Familiar with the way thoughts tended to disappear upon temporary death, Methos had the good sense to look abashed. “Sorry, luv. The pacing was driving me insane.” “Pacing helps me think,” she informed him archly, still polishing her katana. “I'll remember that for future reference,” Methos told her. “Have you come up with anything else while I was…sightseeing?” “Yeah. We go through the portal and kill anything that moves,” Buffy told him sarcastically. At his skeptical look, she smirked. “What? My quota is one brilliant idea per catastrophe. You mind-fucked this one. So, the plan is to go in and kill stuff.” Methos sighed. “We're doomed.”