Prompt#85 - Watcher
Prompt#85 - Watcher
Title: A Life Well-Lived
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters and/or settings. If it looks familiar - I probably didn't invent it.
Rating: FR18
In theory - all my Tara stories should follow a progression of her death in BtVS in an AU.
**
Chapter Three - Prompt#85 - Watcher - Highlander Cross
**
Rules of the Game
**
“MacLeod, stop being a child. You have to take her. I *don’t* do students,” I heard Adam practically whine to the brown-haired gentleman that we had met in a dojo in Seacouver.
The plane ride had been too long and uncomfortable. Sitting next to a clearly irritated man who muttered to himself in an amazingly eclectic array of languages was not how I had wanted to spend my evening. The gist of what I got seemed to be that he was rather pissed about a bratty Scot, which I took to be the man currently arguing with Adam.
“You were in Sunnydale when she died, Adam. You rescued her from the morgue. You brought her back here. It certainly looks like you took an interest in her.”
“She’s only a child, Mac. She doesn’t even know what she is. She keeps muttering something about a family tradition of demons and how Spike lied. Christ, she thinks she’s a demon - a demon!”
“You didn’t even tell her what she was? You just…kidnapped her and brought her here?”
“She couldn’t stay there. Her girlfriend saw her die, literally in her arms. And was I supposed to give the ‘you’re Immortal - we chop people’s heads off’ speech in the middle of the plane ride?”
I gasped. Chopping people’s heads off? Since when had that become part of the equation? There was absolutely no way I could just chop a person’s head off. I grabbed my jacket, well the jacket Adam had been gracious enough to lend me, and fled.
I stumbled down the back steps of Duncan’s apartment, blinded by the sudden onslaught of tears. I threw open the door at the bottom and almost collided with an older gentleman waiting for the lift. He looked over at me, taking me in with gentle, but perceptive eyes. I tried to move past him, but he moved quickly, especially for a man with a cane, and put himself between me and the exit.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he cautiously asked me. I noticed, as I wiped away the tears, and pushed my hair out of my face, that he kept a fair amount of distance between us.
“N-nothing. I…I just n-need to get out - get away - from here. P-please,” I stuttered, not sure what to say to this man. I knew I didn’t want him to go upstairs where two madmen were talking about chopping people’s heads off.
“You’re Adam’s friend, right?” he asked, bending his head down to look me in the eye.
“We’re not f-friends. I just k-know him,” I quickly corrected him. He looked concerned.
“I’m Joe, I’m friends with both Adam and Duncan. Are they upstairs?” he introduced himself.
“Tara,” I quietly acknowledged, with a slight nod of my head, and he smiled.
“So, what caused you to come flying down here and almost knock an old man over?”
I froze. What exactly was I supposed to say to him? Your friends are murderers - run now.
“It…um…I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Well, let’s go back upstairs. It isn’t safe for you to wander around by yourself.”
“Safe f-for me? What do you mean by that? Are you going to ch-chop my head o-off if I don’t stay here?” His eyes widened at my comment. So apparently he knew all about his friends upstairs. I took a step back away from him. He noticed my movement and probably the sheer terror on my face.
“Tara, I’m not going to chop your head off,” he gently stated and held up his free hand in an attempt at peace. “I’m not part of the Game,” he added.
What was the Game? Was this some sick Hellmouth joke?
“What are you then?”
“I’m Duncan’s Watcher.”
“Watcher? Like A-Adam?”
“Not exactly. Did Adam explain what happened to you?”
“No,” I warily answered.
“Did he tell you that you’re Immortal and now part of the Game?” I shook my head and Joe sighed loudly. “Why don’t we take a seat and I’ll explain what Adam apparently can’t,” Joe suggested and motioned toward an office in the corner. When I didn’t move first he started in that direction. He led the way, limping slightly, along to the office. Inside he sat down behind the desk and let me sit near the open door.
“So talk, Mr. J-Joe,” I got out as I slid into the uncomfortable plastic chair.
“Please just call me Joe. I’m going to need you to just take everything I say at face value.”
“All right, go ahead,” I shrugged and sat back.
**
“So, let me recap:
1. I’m Immortal - unable to age or die permanently until my head’s cut off
2. There are a ton of us who go around fighting one another looking for the Prize
3. You’re a Watcher - supposed to watch. record, and never interfere - but you broke protocol and talked with Duncan
4. Adam - as an Immortal - infiltrated the Watchers Council and is a Watcher
5. There is no fix for this. I’m stuck until I die.”
I summed up his conversation.
“More or less. So, I just spilled all my beans, care to share some of yours?”
“Off the record?” I asked, not sure whether I wanted this all written down.
“For now,” he smiled, warmly, at me and nodded.
“My name is Tara Maclay. For the past three years I’ve been living in Sunnydale, California. In case you’re not familiar with Sunnydale - it’s a Hellmouth, Boca del Inferno. And I’m a witch,” I started out with my story.
**
“So, you and your girlfriend are witches, her best friend is a Slayer - of vampires, demons, and other evil - and you fought evil on a regular basis, and Buffy - the Slayer - had her own Watcher. That’s your entire story?”
“For now,” I replied with a small smile.
“And you think that I should call this Rupert Giles?”
“When you get a moment, yes. You can’t mention me, Joe, not at all. If I’m truly Immortal, then I…I have to be dead and move on. But I think - I think you and Giles would get along quite well.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the recommendation, Tara,” Joe warmly stated and smiled softly at me. “So, has the Old Man gotten you any food since he picked you up?”
“N-not at all.”
“Okay, let’s go get dinner. I’m sure the boys are still arguing upstairs.”
“S-sounds good, Joe,” I told him as we rose to our feet.
**
Title: A Life Well-Lived
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters and/or settings. If it looks familiar - I probably didn't invent it.
Rating: FR18
In theory - all my Tara stories should follow a progression of her death in BtVS in an AU.
**
Chapter Three - Prompt#85 - Watcher - Highlander Cross
**
Rules of the Game
**
“MacLeod, stop being a child. You have to take her. I *don’t* do students,” I heard Adam practically whine to the brown-haired gentleman that we had met in a dojo in Seacouver.
The plane ride had been too long and uncomfortable. Sitting next to a clearly irritated man who muttered to himself in an amazingly eclectic array of languages was not how I had wanted to spend my evening. The gist of what I got seemed to be that he was rather pissed about a bratty Scot, which I took to be the man currently arguing with Adam.
“You were in Sunnydale when she died, Adam. You rescued her from the morgue. You brought her back here. It certainly looks like you took an interest in her.”
“She’s only a child, Mac. She doesn’t even know what she is. She keeps muttering something about a family tradition of demons and how Spike lied. Christ, she thinks she’s a demon - a demon!”
“You didn’t even tell her what she was? You just…kidnapped her and brought her here?”
“She couldn’t stay there. Her girlfriend saw her die, literally in her arms. And was I supposed to give the ‘you’re Immortal - we chop people’s heads off’ speech in the middle of the plane ride?”
I gasped. Chopping people’s heads off? Since when had that become part of the equation? There was absolutely no way I could just chop a person’s head off. I grabbed my jacket, well the jacket Adam had been gracious enough to lend me, and fled.
I stumbled down the back steps of Duncan’s apartment, blinded by the sudden onslaught of tears. I threw open the door at the bottom and almost collided with an older gentleman waiting for the lift. He looked over at me, taking me in with gentle, but perceptive eyes. I tried to move past him, but he moved quickly, especially for a man with a cane, and put himself between me and the exit.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he cautiously asked me. I noticed, as I wiped away the tears, and pushed my hair out of my face, that he kept a fair amount of distance between us.
“N-nothing. I…I just n-need to get out - get away - from here. P-please,” I stuttered, not sure what to say to this man. I knew I didn’t want him to go upstairs where two madmen were talking about chopping people’s heads off.
“You’re Adam’s friend, right?” he asked, bending his head down to look me in the eye.
“We’re not f-friends. I just k-know him,” I quickly corrected him. He looked concerned.
“I’m Joe, I’m friends with both Adam and Duncan. Are they upstairs?” he introduced himself.
“Tara,” I quietly acknowledged, with a slight nod of my head, and he smiled.
“So, what caused you to come flying down here and almost knock an old man over?”
I froze. What exactly was I supposed to say to him? Your friends are murderers - run now.
“It…um…I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Well, let’s go back upstairs. It isn’t safe for you to wander around by yourself.”
“Safe f-for me? What do you mean by that? Are you going to ch-chop my head o-off if I don’t stay here?” His eyes widened at my comment. So apparently he knew all about his friends upstairs. I took a step back away from him. He noticed my movement and probably the sheer terror on my face.
“Tara, I’m not going to chop your head off,” he gently stated and held up his free hand in an attempt at peace. “I’m not part of the Game,” he added.
What was the Game? Was this some sick Hellmouth joke?
“What are you then?”
“I’m Duncan’s Watcher.”
“Watcher? Like A-Adam?”
“Not exactly. Did Adam explain what happened to you?”
“No,” I warily answered.
“Did he tell you that you’re Immortal and now part of the Game?” I shook my head and Joe sighed loudly. “Why don’t we take a seat and I’ll explain what Adam apparently can’t,” Joe suggested and motioned toward an office in the corner. When I didn’t move first he started in that direction. He led the way, limping slightly, along to the office. Inside he sat down behind the desk and let me sit near the open door.
“So talk, Mr. J-Joe,” I got out as I slid into the uncomfortable plastic chair.
“Please just call me Joe. I’m going to need you to just take everything I say at face value.”
“All right, go ahead,” I shrugged and sat back.
**
“So, let me recap:
1. I’m Immortal - unable to age or die permanently until my head’s cut off
2. There are a ton of us who go around fighting one another looking for the Prize
3. You’re a Watcher - supposed to watch. record, and never interfere - but you broke protocol and talked with Duncan
4. Adam - as an Immortal - infiltrated the Watchers Council and is a Watcher
5. There is no fix for this. I’m stuck until I die.”
I summed up his conversation.
“More or less. So, I just spilled all my beans, care to share some of yours?”
“Off the record?” I asked, not sure whether I wanted this all written down.
“For now,” he smiled, warmly, at me and nodded.
“My name is Tara Maclay. For the past three years I’ve been living in Sunnydale, California. In case you’re not familiar with Sunnydale - it’s a Hellmouth, Boca del Inferno. And I’m a witch,” I started out with my story.
**
“So, you and your girlfriend are witches, her best friend is a Slayer - of vampires, demons, and other evil - and you fought evil on a regular basis, and Buffy - the Slayer - had her own Watcher. That’s your entire story?”
“For now,” I replied with a small smile.
“And you think that I should call this Rupert Giles?”
“When you get a moment, yes. You can’t mention me, Joe, not at all. If I’m truly Immortal, then I…I have to be dead and move on. But I think - I think you and Giles would get along quite well.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the recommendation, Tara,” Joe warmly stated and smiled softly at me. “So, has the Old Man gotten you any food since he picked you up?”
“N-not at all.”
“Okay, let’s go get dinner. I’m sure the boys are still arguing upstairs.”
“S-sounds good, Joe,” I told him as we rose to our feet.
**