AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL
FANDOM: "HIGHLANDER"/WOLF LAKE"
PAIRING: Duncan MacLeod/Tyler Creed
RATING: NC-17
STATUS: New.
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com
SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "CALL OF THE WILD"
WEBSITE: http://www.carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html
SUMMARY: "While Tyler goes for a run to cool off and calm down, Duncan tries to put things right not knowing he is being stalked."
The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.
"MAKE AND MEND"
A "Highlander"/"Wolf Lake" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
Duncan MacLeod felt guilty. Sorry. He had abused the man's hospitality and now Tyler was God knows where. The shattered glass in the window was edged with blood. He cursed and looked out at the worsening weather. The snow blowing in through the ruined window. He remembered having passed a small woodshed next to the outbuildings and shrugged on his cloak. The least he could do was fix Tyler's window for him.
* * * * *
The shape moved and shifted deep in the forest. The wolf was oblivious, running on tireless paws, leaving flecks of blood in the snow. He ran and ran and ran. Not simply running away but working off the effects of Duncan's hands on him, the look and feel of the man, his scent, his arousal still sharp and poignant in his nostrils. If he could have lengthened his strides more he would have done. The cold bite of winter's edge helped. The deepening pile of snow encouraged more effort out of him to keep up the pace. As the adrenalin began to work out of his system he became calmer, his head becoming clearer, heart less laboured. The man had surprised him. A rare thing in itself and weaving its' own attraction on his cynical, jaded senses. He felt a connection with the stranger as if they were both living out of their natural time. Fish out of water. Yet Wolf Lake was his home. The home of his clan and the roots ran deep. Why did this man, this Duncan MacLeod of Clan MacLeod, stir him so deeply? Why did the memory of his touch set new fire in his loins? If a memory could do this.... He did not follow the thought to any conclusion. Not sure he was ready to go there. Not sure if he ever would be.
The wolf trembled and shook himself. Slowed down to a walk, turned slowly and began to lope back. Taking in all the little sights, sounds and scents of his surroundings as he did so. Once more keenly aware of his domain. It was as he was coming back that he noticed what he had missed first time. A man certainly, but no man he had ever met. The man was not at first aware of him so Tyler used that advantage to watch him unawares. The man was creeping through the snow, his movements stealthy and oddly graceful. Tyler wished he had the pack with him. This felt like trouble. He shadowed the man carefully, always staying upwind just in case. The man moved in an unhurried fashion but wasted no time pausing or taking moments of rest. Tyler realised the man was working his way to his house as if stalking something. Or someone. He did not like this. He had left Duncan alone. Unguarded. He hesitated to call the pack. It could be nothing. The man could simply be lost but somehow he did not think so. Too much of the deliberation of the man spoke otherwise.
Then the man stopped in his tracks. Alert, shoulders tensed, head angled to listen. Tyler heard the sounds clearly and knew them for what they were. Duncan, it had to be. Someone was sawing then trimming and planing wood. It was coming from Tyler's woodshed. He knew what that meant and it filled him with a satisfying warmth inside. Duncan was repairing the window. The man he shadowed did not know anything except this. Someone else was out of doors besides himself. The man moved more cautiously now. Tyler drew a little closer, intent on what the man was up to. It did not bode well. His place was isolated and like all of their clan he had chosen to live in close proximity to the forest. None would live elsewhere. For a stranger to come by his place by accident was rare. For two to come in the same twenty four hours made his hackles rise. Coincidences were the excuse of niave children. Tyler knew there was a connection. Watching the stealthy movements of the man he knew it was not a happy one.
Now the noises in the woodshed stopped. They were in sight of the house. The man drew as close as he dared and watched. Tyler moved into position and waited, his muscles bunching ready to strike at need. The woodshed door opened and his heart turned over. It was Duncan. He had made a new window frame. Tyler was stunned. Anyone else would have boarded the window up until it could be reglazed. This man went one better. He did it himself. The simple action told Tyler more about Duncan than anything else he could have said or done. To the wolf actions spoke louder than words. He watched Duncan fit the frame to the window then begin to screw it in place. He felt rather than saw the watcher move. Without thinking Tyler began to close the distance, silent on his padded feet. The hush of snow against his heavy winter coat. Almost soundlessly the man withdrew a sword. Tyler saw Duncan pause and turn his head. Saw the man shrug off his coat as he freed the sword in an upward arc to strike him down. Tyler increased his pace, his heart thudding, adrenalin pumping, the red pulsing glow of their body heat filling his eyes as he leapt at the stranger. As if sensing the threat from behind the man turned, now bringing the arc of bright steel to bear on Tyler slashing the wolf across his shoulder and chest as his momentum brought the swordsman to the ground. Horror shot through Duncan MacLeod, heart and mind. "No!"
Duncan pulled his sword and slashed at the man's sword arm but he had rolled out of reach. Breathing heavily, the sword stained with the wolf's blood, the man rolled to his feet. Anger beyond anything he had felt in hundreds of years raged through Duncan and he attacked. The clash of metal on metal rang through the cold air. Tyler felt dizzy. Could do no more for Duncan. He pulled back and settled beneath a tree, wanting to be near enough to watch Duncan's back in case more enemies were coming. He felt weak, light headed. He should have raised the pack but there had been no time. No way of knowing what the man had intended until he struck. The scene before him unfolded in slow motion like some medieval play being fought out before him but some instinct told him this was different. This would be to the death. It was not a long fight but it was a fast and furious one. At the end of it Duncan stood with the point of his sword at the other man's throat. The man lay back in the snow, small wounds weeping blood but nothing else. His sword kicked out of reach. Duncan seemed only slightly winded and appeared unscathed. Duncan pressed the tip a little harder to the man's throat. "Your name? I would have your name and the reason you are following me."
"My name is Martin LeBoer and the reason you already know. I am an immortal."
Duncan nodded. He knew. He just needed to have the man's confirmation. "There can be only one."
The man got to his knees but made no attempt to stand up. "Then make it a clean cut, Duncan MacLeod. For I fought well."
He nodded and drew his sword to one side, waited while the man composed himself. Tyler sat up carefully and watched. Curious to see what would happen next. Martin LeBoer leaned forward. To a casual observer he could have appeared to be bowing, showing respect or servience to his Lord, but Tyler knew better. Understood what was happening. To the victor the spoils. No other words passed between them. Duncan took a couple of breaths to steady himself so that his aim would be true and then with a flick of his wrists he lifted the great sword up in two hands and brought it down upon the bare neck severing the head from the body. Tyler was not as shocked as he would have been yesterday. He was fast discovering many things about Duncan MacLeod.
He watched the head roll away from the body and fought to keep his eyes open, his body sagging and dropping down to the soft bed of snow. His muzzle on his paws. His breath an uneven expellation from lungs that laboured. His last image was of Ducan MacLeod holding his sword aloft while lightening cracked and energy flashed above him, the white violent scar of energy sizzling through him like a jagged knife. Then Duncan was there beside him, his voice anxious, soothing. His hands gentle as he coaxed Tyler to roll on to his back. The wolf closed his eyes. Duncan viewed his wounds critically. As he parted the bloodied fur in his hands Tyler shapeshifted and flipped back into his human form. On the point of passing out he flicked his eyes open and spoke slowly, voice quiet and warm to his jaundiced ear. "You were repairing the window..."
He sounded surprised. Duncan nodded, surprised by the intensity of emotion that he felt for this young man. Wanting to stop him talking so he could gather him into his arms and take him inside.
"Thank you." He murmured. Eyes too heavy to remain open. Strength ebbing away from him as darkness seduced him.
The simple words hurt Duncan. "No, it is *I* who must thank you Tyler." But his words fell on deaf ears. Tyler had passed out.
Cursing himself for a fool, Duncan lifted the naked and bloodied body and carried him into the house. He did not take him to his bedroom but laid him on the thick carpet by the fire then went to get water and cloths to wash his wounds and bandages to bind them. He worked quietly, his hands skilled, his touch gentle, his eyes on the man before him. His heart shuddering to think how close he had come to losing him. It was his fault. If he had not pressed himself on Tyler he would not have flipped into his wolf form, fled the house and almost come to grief on Martin's sword. He knew someone had followed him but had no idea the man was this close. He had been sloppy and another man had almost paid for his error with his life. Duncan ran a gentle hand down Tyler's cheek, trailed his lips softly over the sleeping face and made a promise that this would not happen again. He would not allow Tyler to come to harm for his sake. Never again. He kissed him gently on the lips then gathered him up and carried him to the bedroom. He noticed there was a grate in this room also and smiled. Carefully he settled the man between the covers then set about lighting a fire. The house was centrally heated but nothing warmed the heart or the blood like an open fire. He suspected that Tyler was every bit as much of a romantic as he was. The thought made him smile. Made his body ache to hold and caress him. But he forbore. What Tyler needed now was sleep and the chance to heal. If he was patient the rest might come with time.
He went back into the main room and put his cloak back on. He had a body to bury and a window to fix. The only good thing about the worsening weather was that he did not have to wait for the cover of darkness.
* * * * *
Luke Cates was looking at the pool table. His eyes flicking across to Sophia Donner then looking away again when she raised her eyebrows in a mute question. She knew what he wanted. Was strongly attracted to him but did not trust him with her heart. He was wild and had an air of danger about him. A wildness only held in check by the conventions of the small town of Wolf Lake. Besides, Tyler would not thank him if he stirred up a storm by hitting on the Sheriff's daughter without her invitation. So he played the slow game Tyler advocated. A leaf out of the old man's book. Not long ago she had been getting ready to leave Wolf Lake. He had told her that if she went to Italy she would never return. He meant it. That much he sensed and it had saddened him though he did not tell her what to do. Whether to go or stay. It was her decision. He remembered her reassurances that she would return and wondered who she was really trying to convince: him or her. This was the first time he had seen her since she had changed her mind. He wanted to get her alone. Talk to her. His head came up as the door opened propelling a gust of icy air into the place and seeming to usher in the old man with the walking stick.
He appeared to take no notice of anyone but Luke sensed he missed very little. He looked closer at him, paying attention now. Sophia, temporarily forgotten. The man looked to be in his sixties. He had a heavily greying full beard which matched his hair and had a faintly grizzled look about him. Like a bear prematurely woken from deep hibernation. Stocky but silent on his feet apart from the quiet click, click, click of his walking stick. He looked amiable enough but Luke saw that his eyes were serious. He reached the counter and settled himself on a stool. Making sure he had a clear view of the door without it looking too obvious. Sophia gave him a smile, the tilt of her head making the light reflect off her glasses. "What can I get you?"
"Coffee, please."
"Anything to eat?"
He shook his head. "Not just yet. Thanks."
She moved away to get the coffee. Luke walked over to him. "Hi. Haven't seen you around before. What brings you to Wolf Lake?"
Joe Dawson gave him a measuring look but not intense enough to be a challenge. He jerked his head towards the door. "Weather."
Luke nodded sympathetically. "So you'll be stopping a few days?"
Sophia slid his coffee across the counter to him. He gave her a nod and took a sip. "Depends."
"On what?"
Joe took a longer slower sip and let the hot black liquid scald welcome warmth down his cold throat as he watched Luke over the rim of his cup. He repeated his earlier reponse. "Weather."
* * * * *
Once he had the new window frame fixed in place Duncan made short work of re-glazing it. He had been impressed with the workshop. It was better equipped than some stores and he had been surprised to find spare panes of glass carefully racked in one corner. He guessed being a little way out of town it made sense to be prepared to do your own repairs. He rubbed his hands together, replaced the tools he had used then borrowed a shovel and went over to the body of Martin LeBoer. He did not bother dragging him but lifted him up onto his shoulder and carried him some distance from the house then walked back and looked for the head. It took him a few moments to locate it because the falling snow had made a white mask to hide the horror on the dead man's face. He picked it up by the hair and dropped it next to the body. Duncan dug the grave with care. Deep enough to deter Tyler's pack from digging it up again. He knew about wolves but werewolves were something else. they were creatures out of the mists of legend. He could relate to that. An hour and a half later he went back inside the house, knocked the snow off his boots and cape then shut and locked the door behind him. He moved from window to window drawing the curtains and making sure all was secure.
Looking in on Tyler he saw he was sleeping peacefully. Duncan smiled, banked up the fire in the bedroom, did the same to the one in the living room then went into the kitchen. Tyler had been going to cook them a meal but events had overtaken them. As part of his recompense he would see what he could rustle up. Something easy on the digestion for Tyler. He decided a thick heart warming broth would be a good start and began to throw ingredients into a pot, singing quietly in French under his breath. There was a wide assortment of food in the fridge and he smiled at the stack of beef. Perfect. He would make stew. He would have preferred pasta but Tyler appeared to like his red meat so red meat it would be. He trimmed and browned the meat in a pan, sweated off the onions and soon had everything turned into a pot and shoved in the oven. Then he got back to the soup and hunted around for things to add to the basic stock. Chopping vegetables and adding anything he fancied along with more meat and some diced potato. He sprinkled in some herbs, salt and freshly ground pepper. Tasting the mixture and fiddling with it until he approved of the flavour then turned it low to simmer and cook slowly.
Time to check on Tyler. He tiptoed into the bedroom and paused just inside the door. Tyler was stirring in his sleep, beginning to toss and turn. Duncan sat on the side of the bed and gently stroked his face, his deep voice pitched low to soothe him. "It's okay, Tyler, go back to sleep."
The man mumbled and his eyes flickered open. "What happened?"
Duncan stroked his cheek. "You saved my life, Tyler, that's what happened."
He was fully awake now. Remembered that Duncan was his guest and started to sit up. He felt Duncan's hand on his good shoulder easing him back down. "Don't try to get up. You got hurt."
Tyler lay back and blinked, recalling what had happened. "He had a sword. Like you."
"Yes," Murmured Duncan gently.
"Was he...?"
"Yes. He was looking for me."
Tyler frowned. "He was going to kill you. Why?"
Duncan brushed his hair back, his touch sending little shivers through Tyler. Duncan felt his reaction and kept stroking, his fingers combing gently through his hair then touching his face. Chasing the ambient glow where the firelight flickered on his comely face. Fingers now stroking his goatie beard and touching his lips. "He was an Immortal."
Tyler's lips parted, his eyes fastened on Duncan. "You killed him?"
"Yes."
Before Tyler could ask another question Duncan brushed his lips against the younger man's and tasted him fleetingly with his tongue.
"If I hadn't he would keep coming after me until one of us was dead."
Tyler explored the inside of his own mouth, tasting Duncan and wondering. "Why did you kiss me?"
He tilted his head and smiled, folded the bedclothes back so he could look at him. "Because I wanted to." Tyler watched him checking his bandages. A hand now skimming warm flesh. He had numerous small cuts all over him from where he had jumped through the window. Duncan wanted to lick and kiss each one but he could afford to be patient. This was one prize he did not want to scare away. "You're lucky, Ty. The sword struck you a glancing blow across your left shoulder and chest. You won't require stitches."
Tyler raised a hand and touched Duncan's face. Duncan looked at him and froze. "Thank you, Mac."
He shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. "The least I could do. If I hadn't pushed myself on you, you wouldn't have left in such a hurry." He smiled and laughed lightly. "You might even have used the door."
"You can't make love to me, Mac." Said Tyler quietly, his look gentle but serious. Not wanting to hurt him.
He felt his heart constrict. "Why not?"
"I'm a wolf."
"Werewolf."
"I can't always control the change, Mac. Get me too excited too soon and I just flip. You'd get hurt."
Duncan felt his heart lift with hope. "Then I'll take it slow. You tell me how fast."
"Mac, I..."
Duncan kissed him again. This time he did not move away but deepened the kiss so softly, so gently, that Tyler felt as if he had lost all contact with the ground. His heart fluttered in his chest. Duncan only moved his lips just far enough from his mouth so he could speak. "I want to love you
Tyler."
He shivered. "Do you only hit on men?"
Dunan's smile was infectious. "I'm ambidextrous, Ty. I like women too."
Tyler gave a light laugh. Duncan kissed him again, a hand now gently touching him, stroking back and forth across his stomach and away from his injured chest and shoulder. Gradually sweeping lower until Tyler gasped a little in his mouth as he stroked him between the legs. Duncan smiled and sucked gently on his tongue. Loving the way Tyler was trembling to his touch. Sweet. So sweet. He really wanted to scrub up before going any further but Tyler was getting excited and he had not pushed him away. He could feel the man's resolve weakening and pressed on gently knowing just how to touch him to drive him to distraction. But gently. Softly. Slowing. He would drag it out, string him on a wire and fuck him till the cows came home if that's what it took. But it was Tyler's call. Tyler though was incapable of articulate speech. Lost in Duncan's touch he was boneless. Only capable of reaction as Duncan lifted him higher and higher before breaking a breathless kiss to progress with an endless medly of licks and kisses down his face, his throat, chest, nipples, abdomen and stomach until he reached his cock. It was already leaking when he slid his tongue over the slit. Tyler's hips bucked, a moan slid out of his mouth from some deep erotic place that Duncan longed to visit. First he intended to give his new friend the most intense blow job he had ever had. He just hoped he would not get so excited he would cream his own pants before he finished.
* * * * *
Kanin called him *The Egg Man*. Even now the nick-name was hard for him to shift. He had sidled up to the new arrival. So far all they had learnt about him was that his name was Joe and his truck had broken down in the snow. The Deputy Sheriff waited his turn and when Dawson finally ordered the meat and potato pie he decided to introduce himself. He smiled at the man
and pointed to an empty seat. "Mind if I join you?"
Joe gave him an appraising look. "Is this what you people do when the circus isn't in town?"
"I'm sorry?"
Joe gave a little sigh. He was getting crotchity. He had been here less than two hours and so far he had met all the barflies, the local talent had checked him out, the girls felt sorry for him, and now the local Deputy was playing *good cop, let's be friends* with him. If he stayed here any longer Jean Claude Van Damm was likely to sweep in and pinch his dinner before he had time to say he was *just passing through*. "Look, Deputy, I mean no offence but since I walked through that door I haven't had a moment to myself so excuse me if I sound bad tempered." He paused. "I am."
For a moment the Deputy looked surprised then a big smile broke out on his Moon-shaped face. He laughed. "You don't know what a breath of fresh air you are in Wolf Lake!" He chuckled then got a hold of himself and held out his hand. "My name is John Kanin, I'm the Deputy Sheriff round here. At least for a while."
"Joe Dawson." He paused as they shook hands. "What do you mean, at least for a while? You plan to be Sheriff?"
Kanin almost choked. "No. I'm looking for my girlfriend. She came from round here."
"And you decided to stay?"
Kanin was not smiling now. "You could say that."
Dawson nodded and turned to take his plate from Sophia. He thanked her gruffly as she passed him a napkin and knife and fork. He put the knife to one side and cut and ate his pie with the fork. Kanin watched him eat. Noticed how he cut up and ate his pie until it was all gone then ate the vegetables last. When Dawson finished he gave him a look as if surprised to find the Deputy still there. He waited.
"Where did you say you were from?"
"I didn't. Just passing through."
"To go where?"
"Somewhere where there isn't any snow."
"Why so cautious?"
Dawson shrugged. "Why not?"
"Just making conversation."
Dawson looked at him, nodded to himself and took up the challenge. For the next hour and a half he talked about boxing. Every heavyweight and middleweight champion for the last fifty years. Not a little sketch of the sport but an in depth history. What Dawson did not know about the sport was not worth knowing. Seeing the look of glazed frustration on Kanin's face he at last paused. He gave the Deputy a feigned look of surprise and raised his eyebrows. "I thought you wanted conversation?" He said innocently.
The Deputy was forced to smile, frustrated as he was. Knowing when he had been caught out. He gave a little bow of the head. "Okay, you've made your point. You just want to be left alone, right?"
Dawson grinned pleasantly. "Nice talking to you, Deputy."
Kanin flicked him a little salute and stood up to go. "You too, Joe."
Dawson watched him leave then ordered a whiskey. As he took the glass he noticed Luke Cates was watching him from the pool table. When their eyes met Luke smiled and touched a finger to his forehead as if approving of how he had got rid of Kanin. Expressionless, Dawson tipped his glass and emptied it in one. The sooner he found Duncan MacLeod and got out of this creepy place the better.
* * * * *
end