by heidi
"Help me?"
Wesley looked up from the books he had been studying in time to see Cordelia collapse to the floor, her hands grabbing at her head. By the time he reached her, Angel had her head lying in his lap, his fingers gently carding through her hair.
When the vision ended, Cordy looked up at him. "Um, all I can say about that one is - ew. That was completely gross."
Wesley kneeled down beside her. "What did you see?"
"A bug. A giant, ugly, gross bug."
Angel chuckled. "Could you be a little more specific?"
"A bug. A big bug. I mean, this bug makes Shaquelle O'Neal look like a midget, was going through a trash bin behind The Golden Chopsticks. Besides making a *really* big mess, I couldn't tell what the harm was."
Wesley rubbed his brow, thinking over various demons that resembled insects. "Did this bug resemble a roach, or maybe a worm, or…"
"If it was a worm, I would have said worm. No, it kinda looked like a roach, but with a really big mouth."
Returning to his desk, Wesley moved a couple of books aside, finding the one he was looking for. Flipping through the pages, he found what he believed Cordelia was talking about.
"Is this it?"
Cordelia simply nodded, with a disgusted look on her face.
Looking over the write-up that corresponded with it, he tapped the book, then told the rest, "Ah, I see why you got the vision. Seems that garbage is just an appetizer. It's next course tends to be anything that's capable of moving."
As Angel helped Cordelia up, Gunn moved to stand behind Wesley, reading the book over his shoulder. "Does it say how we exterminate this thing?"
Scanning over the details, he found the information. "It would appear that this D'Blerk demon is covered by a shell that's nearly impenetrable, but there is a soft spot at the side under the second level of arms. If it is pierced there, it'll die almost instantaneously."
Gunn clapped his hands. "Great, let's go."
As Wesley and Angel grabbed various weapons, they heard, "Oh God, not again." They turned in time to see Cordelia collapse a second time.
"Dear Lord, Cordy?" Reaching her, Wesley could see her eyes rolling back, her face distorted, and her body writhing from pain.
Angel settled beside her again as Wesley ran to her desk, getting water and aspirin. He could hear her groan a little, then become quiet.
"Okay, memo to the TPTB. No more than one vision a day."
"Are you alright?"
Cordelia looked up at Fred, who was peering over Angel's shoulder.
"Uh, yeah. As well as someone could be after receiving two head splitting visions."
"That's sarcasm, isn't it?" Fred asked with a nervous giggle. Wesley found the young woman's action to be endearing, but Cordelia obviously found it to be irritating, and with good reason, considering the situation. Cordy simply rolled her eyes before staggering up.
"Was this vision of the same big creepy crawly as the last one?"
Sighing, Cordy shook her head. "No. This one was odd. There was a man fighting a demon with a sword." Looking at Angel, "You remember that demon before Wesley joined us," - rolling her hand, as if that was enough to trigger the correct memory for Angel. "You know - the one you couldn't kill. Shaped like a human, but blue, and really bad acne?"
Wesley watched as Angel shivered.
"Yeah, Okora demon. Took me forever to figure out how to kill it. I mean, they don't show up in this dimension very often, so there isn't a lot of information on them."
"Okora, that's it. Well, that's what this guy is fighting."
Angel nodded. "Okay, I'll go help him, you guys go…"
Wesley shook his head. "We need you fighting the D'Blerk. Can you tell me how to kill this Okora?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. It's actually not that hard once you know what to do. Simply stab it in the eye."
Cordelia started snickering. "And he literally stumbled into finding out how to kill it."
"That's enough of that. Come on Gunn. We have D'Blerk to squash."
"Oh, don't forget," Cordelia ran back to the counter, grabbed a can, and tossed it to Gunn.
"Raid?"
"Well, it is a bug."
*********
Wesley pulled Gunn's truck into the parking lot that Cordelia had directed him to. Parking it, he heard the clashing of metal. Running down the alleyway, he saw the battle from the vision. At that moment, the man swung his sword, deftly removing the demon's head from his body.
The stranger collapsed to his knees, then held out his hands, as if he was readying himself for something more. Wesley realized that the other man had his eyes closed, so could not see that the demon was still moving.
"Get up, he's not dead yet."
The headless demon walked to where it's head was lying on the ground, picked it up, and placed it back on its shoulder, twisting it back and forth until it until it was aligned properly. The neck glowed orange. When the orange was gone, it appeared as if nothing had happened.
"Bloody hell." Struggling back to his feet, the stranger again lifted his sword, preparing for battle.
Wesley watched in fascination as the man lunged, swung, thrust, and danced out of the Okora's attacks. The man was beautiful, the way he fought, the way he moved. When the demon moved, making contact with the human, his cry of pain snapped Wesley out of his ogling.
"His eye. Stab him in the eye."
The man looked over his shoulder as he darted out of the way of a vicious swipe. Nodding once, he swung his sword, causing the demon to deflect it, while he plunged a knife that appeared out of no where into the demon's eye.
With an inhuman screech, the demon collapsed to the ground, turning into a pile of goo filled cloth.
"What the…" The man turned his attention to Wesley, piercing him with a look. Pointing his sword to where the remains of the demon laid, he demanded, "What the hell was that?"
"That was an Okora demon."
Grabbing a rag from the trash on the ground, the man started to wipe down his sword before tucking the weapon away into his overcoat. It was then that Wesley noticed all the slices in the man's clothing.
"You're injured." He turned to get the first aid kit out of Gunn's truck. "I have supplies in my truck to help you out. You don't want to leave those wounds untended. From what Cordelia told me, the Okora demons excrete a type of venom. If we don't get those wounds looked to quickly, you'll have some nasty scars."
"I'll be quite all right. Just tell me more about that thing."
Wesley turned, and saw that the man was standing with his legs spread apart, his hands shoved into the pockets. Everything about the pose screamed power and determination.
This was not a man to mislead.
Sighing, Wesley decided to approach the situation from a different direction. "Allow me to introduce myself." he said, offering his hand. "I'm Wesley Windham Price. And if you join me, I'll take you someplace and explain everything to you."
The man didn't shake his hand, but he did nod once. Picking up a pack that was sitting to the side, he studied Wesley a moment, then headed for the truck. "Okay. Let's go."
*******
Methos wondered if he had gone completely insane. Here he was, sitting in a truck that was rigged for doing who knew what, driving through a city not known for its sanity with a man he had only just met. A man who claimed that Methos had just battled a demon. A demon that melted into something that resembled slime, not that he was going to touch it to find out for sure.
In five thousand years, he had experienced many things he didn't understand, thing he didn't want to understand - except, understanding often helped keep his head just a little longer. Hence the reason he was sitting in this strange vehicle, driving through this dangerous city, with this odd man.
Methos studied the other man, and decided he was most likely safe, but he allowed his hand to drift a little, feeling the dagger that was well hidden in the confines of his coat.
Wesley looked towards him and smiled. "We're almost there." Returning his attention to the road, he said, "I was most impressed with your fighting. Once you knew how to kill the Okora demon, you dispatched it quite quickly. I don't think even Angel could have done it better. When you meet Angel, you'll realize what a compliment that is."
Methos nodded, trying to decide whether to take the bait or not. Well, as the Americans say, in for a dollar…
"Who is Angel?"
"Ah, Angel. Well, he's the founder of Angel Investigation, where I'm taking you, and he's well…" Methos watched as Wesley struggled with what to say next. "Well, he's not exactly like most people." That did get Methos' attention. Almost made him laugh, since technically, Methos wasn't like most people either. Wesley rushed on, "But you needn't worry. He fights for the good guys."
"And that would be you?"
"Yes, that would." Wesley turned to him briefly and smiled.
Methos was slightly taken back by the smile. It held such warmth and honesty to it. Shaking himself from the direction his thought were taking him, he asked, "Angel Investigations?"
"Yes."
"What exactly do you do?"
"At the moment I run the business, do a bit of research, and participate in the action battles that take place."
Methos had to chuckle at the misunderstanding. "No. I mean, what does Angel Investigations do?"
"Ah, quite right. Excuse my misunderstanding. As Cordy says, 'We help the helpless.'"
Wesley parked the truck in front of a large building. Methos looked at it, recognizing it from years earlier.
"Here we are. Let's get you inside so I can look at your wounds, and then I'll answer all of your questions."
Methos got out of the truck, again ignoring the comment about his wounds, stopping before entering the building. "Are you aware of the history behind the Hyperion?"
Wesley stopped and looked curiously at Methos. "Yes, we are well aware of it. I take it that you are too?"
"I stayed here when I was younger."
"Yes. Well, it must have been when you were much younger, because the Hyperion was closed for some time before we moved in." Wesley looked up at the grand structure, then turned his attention back to Methos. "You needn't worry. The building is quite harmless now."
Methos hadn't really been worried, but he allowed the other man to have his illusions.
When they got inside, Wesley pointed him towards a circular sofa. "Have a seat, I'll go get our first aid kit."
"Don't bother. There's nothing to be tended too. I'm more interested in having you explain things to me. What exactly is an Okora demon?"
Wesley rubbed at his forehead, looking a little perturbed. "To be honest, I'm not really sure. I personally haven't encountered one before tonight, but Angel and Cordelia have. They can probably answer your questions. Or we can look them up in a book. But I really think I should look to your wounds. I know I saw the demon's claws, or whatever those were, make contact with you."
Mentally sighing, Methos knew there was no way he was going to get around this. Dropping his coat to the ground, he proceeded to take off his badly damaged shirt, allowing it to fall. Holding his hands out to the side, he turned in a circle, allowing Wesley to have a clear view of his blood covered, yet unblemished, torso.
"Extraordinary. You should have several gaping wounds."
Methos shrugged. "Since I have no desire to put that shirt back on, do you have something here I can wear?"
Wesley pulled his eyes away from Methos' body, blushing slightly at the way he had been staring. "Right. Just a moment." Wesley disappeared into an office behind the front counter, only to re-emerge carrying a sweatshirt as well as a few books. Handing the shirt to Methos, Wesley turned around and placed the books on the counter, occasionally taking a quick glimpse at Methos' body.
"You're not human, are you?"
Laughing, Methos' head popped through the top of the shirt. "I am quite human."
Wesley appeared to be studying the books in front of him, flipping through the pages. "But you're not like most humans?"
Methos ignored the question, responding with one of his own, "Do you kill all demons that you come into contact with?"
"Good Lord, no." Wesley looked at Methos, confused. "Not all demons are evil. Many are just trying to survive in a world that is not their own. We only go after those that are doing harm to others."
Nodding, Methos pointed to the books. "And this is how you learn about demons? From books?"
"Often, yes. But not all the time. We have other sources that also provide information."
"Such as…"
"Other demons."
"How many types of demons are out there?"
Wesley looked down at the book, running his thumb along the edge. "I don't really know. Thousands?"
Methos slumped next to the counter. Thousands? And he was just learning about them now? Or had he encountered them in the past, and just not known what he was seeing? He thought back, remembering various things he had seen in his life that couldn't be explained, but he had chosen to believe that his eyes had seen wrong, or that he had been drunker than he believed.
Unconsciously, Methos reached for his neck and began to rub.
Watching the motion, Wesley spoke quietly. "It's amazing what we choose not to see or believe."
Hearing the other man begin to flip through his books, Methos continued to inventory his memory. He had already accepted that there were such things as demons - having watched Mac battle Ahriman had convinced him of that. But thousands. How could he have been so blind. But now that his eyes had been opened, he knew that thousands was most likely accurate.
Methos was pulled out of his thoughts by two men walking through the back door, both covered in yellow looking slime.
"Wesley. You know how you said that the D'Blerk demon dies almost instantly when that area is pierced?"
Methos looked at Wesley, and was amused to see the other man was trying to hide a smile.
"Yes?"
"Well you could have told us that the reason they die almost instantaneously is because they *explode*."
"That would explain it. Sorry, Gunn. The book didn't mention anything like that, but I'll be sure to tell Cordy to put that information into the computer for future reference."
"This is totally gross. I'm going to go take a shower."
"Yeah. I think that sounds like a good idea. I take it you saved your guy, Wesley?"
"Yes. Cordy was right when she said that he was more than capable of taking care of himself when given the appropriate information."
Methos was fascinated that everyone was talking around him, about him, and practically ignoring that he was standing right there.
"That's good. I'll be right down after I get cleaned up."
Wesley nodded, returning to the book, before calling out, "Oh Angel?" The other man stopped half way up the steps. "What do you know about the Okora?"
Angel thought for a moment. "Nothing really. Doyle was the one who had the information on them, given to him by The Powers. I think he mentioned something about them being from an alternate universe."
Alternate universe? Methos didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Instead he looked at Wesley who seemed to think that answer made perfect sense.
Angel began to head up the stairs again, but hesitated, "They're immortal. Wherever they are from, they are considered immortal, well, except for the Achilles' heel, or eye. They can't be killed once they experience their first death."
Bloody hell. No wonder he felt the tingle when he met up with this demon. Methos had believed it to be an Immortal who was dressed for a Halloween party. Apparently it was a distant relative.
"Are you all right? You don't look too well." Methos felt the gentle hand on his arm, and only then realized that he had slid down the counter and was now sitting on the floor. Looking up, he could see Angel had somehow moved across the lobby without him noticing, and was now standing before him, worried, dripping slime onto Methos' boots.
"This has all been quite a shock. More than I had expected."
Wesley rubbed his arm gently, as if calming a frightened child. The idea made Methos bark out in laughter. "Believe me when I say, it takes a lot to shock me anymore."
Speaking over his shoulder, Wesley continued to soothe Methos. "Why don't you go take your shower, Angel. I'll take care of our guest."
Angel looked reluctant to leave, but finally nodded and headed back towards the stairs.
Once Angel was out of sight, Wesley helped Methos to his feet, leading him to the chairs behind the counter. "Does this have anything to do with what you are? Or why you were fighting the Okora?"
"I already told you that I'm human."
"Human, yes. But a human that heals immediately from serious wounds. A human who knows how to fight with a sword better than anyone has a right too. A human who hasn't even bothered to share his name yet."
Having recovered from his brief shock, Methos started to chuckle. "Answer a few more question for me, if you don't mind."
"I told you I would answer all your questions."
"How did you know to come help me? Because you obviously knew where I was, and what I was fighting, but you seem to know nothing about me."
Wesley hesitated before answering, "Cordelia. She gets visions sent to her by The Powers That Be. The visions direct us to where people are in danger."
"How did she know that you were supposed to help me, and not the Okora?"
Wesley shrugged. "She just knew."
Methos considered what he had learned. "What if I told you that Okoras aren't the only Immortals."
Sitting back in his chair, Wesley's eyes seemed to look off into the distance, his mind elsewhere. "Of course. Silly of me not to realize what you are. All the signs were there."
"You know of Immortals?"
"I've only read about them. I think you might be the first I've actually encountered."
"How much do you know of us?"
"Not much, really. I found an ancient journal years back when I worked elsewhere. In it, the writer talked of his various battles, and of how he found what he called an Immortal to be - that he'd have to watch for him to experience his first death so that he could teach him to fight, and the rules of his game. It was fascinating reading. I would have liked to meet the writer, a Methos, but the journal was close to two thousand years old, so I'm sure he's quite dead by now."
Methos schooled his emotions carefully. Wesley was talking of one of his still missing journals. He had been looking for it for years; it always seemed to allude him. "Methos? You read one of Methos' journals?"
Wesley seemed surprised, "Yes. You know of this Methos?"
Methos shrugged, "He's believed to be the oldest of us. Many believe he is just a myth. I'd love to read that journal. Where might I find it?"
"I'm not sure where it'd be anymore. Like I said, I read it a few years back."
Methos recognized the answer for what it was, an evasion. Wesley did have answers he wanted, but this time was unwilling to provide them. Methos could live with that, but maybe he'd just hang around a little longer and see if he could find those answers. His eyes traveled over the man next to him. At least the hunt would be fun.
Holding his hand out, "My name is Adam Pierson."
the end