My Immortal. Chapter 5.
Hello there LJ world. I swear I've been around (except for those two days without internet), but I've just been too busy to interact. I have been working on my fic though, so here is an actual update. (An ordinary post will follow at some point, promise.) This chapter was a real bitca, but since it is more or less done I want to get it out there and move on. (I'm estimating that this fic will be 13 chapters all in all, plus prologue & epilogue. When I'll find the time to write it is another question of course... *sigh* Thank you lots to all those of you reading, you make it all worthwhile!) Previous chapters here. And - as always - huge thanks to my incomparable beta, kathyh!
ETA: Dedicating this to pfeifferpack (belatedly, because I am stoopid) - I hope you like it dear and Happy Birthday (again)!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 4500 words approx.
Chapter 5
Angel: What the hell could Buffy see in him?
Demon Butler: Perhaps she likes the cut of his trousers.
[...]
You must be so lonely. Your girlfriend has become lovers with The Immortal. How unfortunate for you. And how fortunate for her.
Sunday 4th of April (lunchtime)
Arms. He had very good arms. Actually the whole chest area was really quite above par. Although there was the fact that he used guns, but she was quite willing to overlook that...
Buffy had spent most of a week trying not to think about how hot The Immortal was, so finally indulging was a relief. Actually thinking about any man was a nice break.
Slowly emerging from her contemplations she realised that Dawn had been talking and was probably expecting a reply of some sort. Quickly she nodded and said "Of course!" as naturally as she could, before shoving some more salad into her mouth. Lunch. That's what was happening. With the food and the talking to her sister and such.
Dawn grinned widely. "Ha! You just said that it was fine for me to go on a date with Marco."
Buffy frowned. "What? No - I... no. No no no no no! He's bad news and you shouldn't see him. Oh and by the way if he was the 'hot date' that you cancelled, then it was never a date to begin with. Also his pants are way too tight and... leathery. He could be evil."
Her sister didn't seem impressed with her deductions. "You think he's evil because he wears leather pants?"
"M-hm!" Buffy thought to herself that this was a perfectly logical argument, but Dawn just shook her head. "Dating the Buffy way: Check out the pants!"
"You can tell a lot about a man from his pants," she shot back. 'Like if he wears any underwear' she added to herself, but didn't feel like sharing that with Dawn. Sisterly bonding was all well and good, but there were limits.
"So - what do The Immortal's pants say about him?" Dawn asked, not letting the subject drop.
Buffy thought for a moment. "That he has a very, very good tailor. Seriously. All men should wear trousers that well cut, even if it’s more difficult to tell the evil from the good that way."
This earned her a smirk from the other side of the table, and Buffy realised that they'd wandered far from the starting point. "But - leather is evil. Also he's going to get you killed with that motorbike of his."
Dawn lifted an eyebrow in that way Buffy dreaded. "Says the most dangerous moped-driver in Rome."
"What? I'm not dangerous. I'm... assertive! Romans are very aggressive - you have to stand up for yourself or they drive all over you."
Dawn shook her head, not at all bothering to hide her smile. "Anyway, you so do not have a leg to stand on, because I can totally tell you're going to see The Immortal, and he is a lot more dangerous than a 20 year old with a Harley."
"I think it's about even," Buffy decided after a moment's consideration. "Especially since I know for a fact that The Immortal isn't evil. At least not evil evil."
"Hm," Dawn replied. "Are you going to tell me what happened this morning, or just keep drifting off in daydreams?"
"Daydreams!" Buffy answered chirpily, and Dawn sighed deeply. "When are you seeing him?"
"Tomorrow night I think."
She glanced at her phone and felt a happy glow of anticipation. She was sure it'd be a proper date, in a restaurant and everything - it might not even be interrupted by vampires or ritual sacrifices or gloomy friends!
Life was good.
Monday 5th of April
But - life dating The Immortal could be full of last-minute changes, Buffy soon discovered. Late Monday afternoon he called - very apologetically - and asked if she'd mind changing their plans a little, since he'd been caught up in something that would take a little longer than anticipated.
He sounded a little... off, and she asked if he was OK.
"I'll be fine," he replied, refusing to explain further, instead suggesting that he could come by to pick her up around 9 o’clock and they could work out what to do then?
“On the plus side I’m excellent at improvising,” he added, and she could almost hear the grin.
At 9 pm sharp he knocked on the door, his wide smile faltering slightly when Andrew opened it.
"Oh my god, it's really you! And you're even more handsome than-" Andrew managed, before Buffy grabbed his arm and shoved him out of the way.
"So sorry. He wouldn't leave, and if I threw him out of the window he'd just sit by the front door and whine like a lost puppy."
Then she realised that The Immortal had apparently been talking literally when he mentioned chocolates and flowers, before failing to stop Dawn from snatching the former.
"Thank you," Buffy said, taking the flowers and sending Dawn her most evil look. The Immortal chuckled. "Hey - I'm supposed to be the perfect date, aren't I?"
He winked conspiratorially, before admiring her very 40s Hollywood starlet dress (which had taken her most of the day to find, in a very intense shopping expedition, but his admiration was totally worth it).
But then Andrew pushed himself forwards again.
"I'm so sorry, but do you think you could sign my book. I mean, your book. I mean, my copy of your book. I sleep with it."
The Immortal - for the first time Buffy had seen - looked genuinely worried and concerned, and Buffy sighed deeply. "This is Andrew. He's my... he's the local Watcher. Sort of. He used to be an annoying nerd with evil pretensions, now he's a reformed annoying nerd with watcherly pretensions. But he does know a lot about demons, which is why I haven't kicked him back to London. Yet."
Andrew however ignored her completely and, with mute adoration in his eyes, held out the book and a pen.
After a moment The Immortal took both, and - clearly trying to curb a grin - wrote on the front page of the book. He handed it back and then turned to Buffy, holding out his arm. "Shall we?"
Grabbing a coat she grinned back. "I think we shall!"
"Wait - where are you taking her? And when will you be bringing her back? And... what exactly are your intentions?"
Dawn was doing her best mom-impersonation, but The Immortal was utterly unfazed.
"Considering how late it is, I was thinking of taking her out stargazing - which would probably take all night. And as for my intentions... Well, I'm open to suggestions."
Buffy laughed, then suddenly had a thought. "Oh - by the way, if you ever have some spare time, do you think you could check out some guy called Marco? Usually spotted in the vicinity of my sister, or a Harley, and covered in leather. I think he's evil - or possibly gay - and would like to know for sure."
"Sounds like something I'd be very happy to do," The Immortal smirked, and Dawn scowled.
"You know she's evil, right?" she said, pointing to Buffy, but The Immortal just grinned and wrapped an arm around Buffy's waist.
"Excellent! I like my women evil."
Shooting Andrew a swift look, Buffy couldn't help proving her wickedness by asking: "How do you like your men?"
Following her gaze, The Immortal's smiled deepened.
"Naked," he replied, catching Andrew's eyes and holding them until the other turned a new and very interesting shade of scarlet.
Buffy thought that her sources had only been a little wrong. He wasn’t perfect perfect - just perfect for her.
In the car, she - curious - asked what he'd written in Andrew's book.
The Immortal smirked. "Just a little advice. If he's sleeping with the book, he's been reading it wrong. Unless there's a chapter on bibliophilia at the back, which I doubt. Although I've never actually read through the whole thing, so I could be wrong."
Buffy stared. "You've not read your own book?"
He shot her a surprised look. "I know what it says. Why would I read it?"
She blinked, trying to wrap her head around his words. "That's- I'm confused. You are confusing. 'Splainy?"
He chuckled. “Well, I know what it says because it’s about my life philosophy or whatever it’s called these days. And I haven’t read it because I didn’t write it. Which - by the way - is a secret, so don’t go mentioning it, okay?”
“Sure,” she replied, slowly nodding. “So... you hired a ghost writer?”
A sideways smile and a slight shake of the head. “Not exactly... First of all I didn’t hire him, he came to me, and second he was an actual writer ghost.”
And the weirdness just kept coming. “Writer ghost? As in... a ghost that writes?”
“Exactly!” he replied, effortlessly maneuvering the car through the late evening traffic. “A lot of ghost writers are writer ghosts by the way - saves a lot of money etc - but this guy showed up...” he thought for a moment, “oh about twenty years ago? Started following me around, saying that he liked my attitude - he’d been one of those people who did everything he ought to, and nothing he wanted to. You know, the usual story. Anyway, the next time I returned he’d written a whole book about my outlook on life. Which was... flattering.”
Shooting her a wide grin he almost missed the traffic lights changing to red, and belatedly slammed the brakes on.
“Damn. Ought to have a siren, or police lights or something... Anyway, he wanted to publish the thing - to ‘spread the message’ - and I figured why not? Decided to use my name on the cover since he’d been dead for over a century and it was all ‘my’ ideas after all. I skimmed the final draft, but could never get all the way through it - as you might have gathered I much prefer practice to theory. But people seem to like it, which is nice, because try as I might, I’ll never actually be able to ‘talk’ to everyone in the world. Which - according to some people - is a good thing.”
He shot her a look so inscrutable that she couldn’t work out if it was a joke or not, but thankfully they then arrived at the house. This time they entered through the back door which led into the kitchen, and it was obvious that here the servants ruled. It was markedly different in style to the rest of the house - despite its size it felt warm and cosy, furniture and appliances well worn and clearly chosen for durability and efficiency rather than style or show-off factor.
Within moments Francesca appeared, and Buffy began wondering if The Immortal had hired all his staff from central casting - the elderly housekeeper, with her black dress and silvery hair tied up in a bun, looked like she had stepped straight out of a movie or TV drama. As soon as she was told of their plans, she brought out the largest hamper Buffy had ever seen and then began attempting to fit the entire contents of the fridge into it. Apparently 'stargazing' was another word for 'night-time picnic', or rather ‘night-time banquet with ten courses’.
In between dashing to and fro - blankly refusing any help - Francesca talked at great length about her family, in the process pointing out the obvious artistic talent of her youngest granddaughter, Marina, who had recently turned four and whose pictures adorned the fridge. The Immortal gravely admired the colourful drawings, before trying to steal some olives whilst Francesca’s back was turned. This earned him a severe telling off, although of course he just grinned impishly, not at all apologetic.
Then - possibly trying to stop the old woman glaring daggers at him - he tilted his head and asked what she thought of Buffy.
"Ah!” Francesca stopped for whole two seconds and beamed. “Such a lovely girl. You know, she called on the telephone before the party and asked so very politely if she could bring her sister. 'Of course!' I say, 'bring whole family!' Then she tells me that her sister is her whole family. Is tragic. Tragic!”
She shook her head, muttering about the unfairness of life and death, before turning to Buffy. “You always welcome here cara mia. In Immortal's house - everyone is family!”
“Absolutely,” The Immortal added. But, despite the smile on his face, his eyes were shielded in a way Buffy couldn't quite work out.
Francesca however didn’t seem to notice as she continued talking to Buffy. “You will be good for him I think. A good girl - or boy - is what he needs, I have said it again and again; but so many times he just goes for the pretty face.” She shook her head in disapproval, and The Immortal chuckled.
"Francesca has been my self-appointed date-vetter for years now. Ever since I brought that Brazilian guy home - what was his name again?"
"Paolo!" the elderly woman spat, like even saying the name was too good for him. "Vain and wicked he was. Bad - very, very bad!"
"He was a trapeze artist from a circus," The Immortal elaborated, "and unbelievably talented and limber. Also gorgeous. Which of course he knew - practically had a mirror stapled to his hand. I, however, only had the pleasure of looking at him for a very short while - Francesca saw to that."
Intrigued, Buffy asked what had happened.
Another chuckle that brought out the dimples again. "She put itching powder down the back of his shirt - I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. Long story short, he got seriously pissed off and walked out, never to return."
Buffy stared at the little old lady in front of her, who was with great care adding the last few items to the hamper, looking the very picture of stately respectability and quiet dignity. Buffy quite simply couldn’t get The Immortal’s words to fit - he might as well have said that she'd attacked him with a chain saw.
"Itching powder?" she asked, voice laced with incredulity.
Smiling indulgently, The Immortal explained.
"Well she was only seven at the time."
For a moment Buffy could almost hear time whoosh past her as the past flashed in front of her eyes, so vivid that it drowned out the world completely.
The Mayor, talking about his wife growing old - Angel breaking up with her, calling their relationship a 'freak show' - wanting her to have a normal life - Spike's incredible reluctance to make any kind of move...
She'd known, she'd understood, and yet... Suddenly she saw - right in front of her face - what they'd talked about, saw the true tragedy of immortality.
And all because of an old woman who’d once been a mischievous child, whilst The Immortal had not changed at all...
No wonder her vampires had been so antisocial, so loath to engage with humans, considering the price for standing out of time. And no wonder The Immortal tried to go for ‘the pretty ones’ - the easy ones - those who wouldn’t break his heart.
Although she had a feeling he was no better at shielding his heart than she.
***
The car loaded up with the enormo-hamper and a large pile of blankets, they set off. Slowly the noisy, bright town filtered away and the countryside spread out next to them, calm and dark. Driving past farms and vineyards, blurred from speed, Buffy remembered Riley promising to show her the joys of driving; and as The Immortal’s sleek Ferrari effortlessly tore through the night, making her feel rather as if they were flying, she thought that she finally knew what he’d been on about - although she found herself rather amused at who her guide had turned out to be.
Then she noticed that they were slowing down, The Immortal looking as if he was searching for something, and then he turned off down a small unlit side road. A little later the car came to a smooth standstill and The Immortal got out, swiftly running round the car and holding her door open for her.
Then he unloaded the hamper and the blankets, before vaulting over the fence they were parked next to, asking her if she’d mind passing their things over.
She looked around, trying to make out anything other than dark trees against a dark, cloudless sky. “Where are we?”
“Orange grove,” he explained, pointing to the trees behind him. “We’re a bit early - the trees won’t flower for around another month, which is a shame. Afraid I can’t control the seasons.”
Slowly she shook her head. “But - is it yours? Or do you know who lives here?”
He shook his head, clearly not bothered. “Looked nice. Hamper?”
“But what if someone comes?”
“We’ll explain that we’re having a picnic.” He looked at her, like this was the most logical thing in the world, and she decided to just go with it. It was nearly midnight after all, and he was very, very pretty.
Slightly worried, she wondered if his attitude to life was contagious... Not that she was a stranger to trespassing, but usually it was for more urgent and serious reasons. Although knowing her luck there would probably be a vamp nest somewhere nearby.
Still, when they were sitting on the blanket a little later on a small grassy hill, indulging in delicious food and champagne, Buffy had to agree that this was a fantastic idea. Considering how long she’d been dating night-time creatures, she’d never done much night-time picnicking. Although graveyards were not as romantic as orange groves she had to admit - there was no sign of badness here. And there was something wonderfully freeing about sinking into this perfect date - she almost expected there to be swelling background music as he fed her grapes and gateau.
But then, when the vast leftovers had been packed away, he surprised her again by lying back on the blanket, hands behind his head, and looking up at the sky.
“So - what do you know about stars?” he asked, and she realised that he might have actually been literal when he talked about ‘stargazing’.
Which, given his innuendo-laden talk, was just bizarre.
“Um...” she replied, lying down beside him and shooting him a glance, wondering if it was a trick of some sort. But he appeared perfectly genuine, so she looked up at the clear sky and honed in on the one constellation she knew.
“I can find the the Big Dipper.”
“As good a place to start as any,” he said, before moving a little closer, pointing upwards. “If you look at Mizar - that’s the second star from the end of the handle - then if you look really carefully you should be able to make out two stars very close together.”
She squinted up at the sky, and then grinned. “Oh yes. Cool!”
“The second one is called Alcor, and is actually three light years away from Mizar - they just this look close when viewed from Earth. Mizar itself is actually a triple star - or rather, it’s a double star, and it’s companion is also a double star.” He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly continued.
“There might be planets around those stars... imagine what they would be like. Three sunsets, three sunrises every day - but, because the suns are all revolving around each other, the pattern would always be changing.” He chuckled. "Timekeeping would be a real bitch."
Then he abruptly jumped to another section of sky, carefully taking her from star to star, until her head was spinning. Galaxies and black holes and stars dying and being born - it was a bit like walking round the Colosseum with a really good tour guide, one who could make the dusty history live. Except this history was so much... bigger. Human history seemed to shrink to insignificance in comparison with the life span of the near-eternal beauty of the heavens above.
As he stopped his lecture to have a sip of wine, she answered the unspoken question in his eyes.
”I - I never actually looked at the stars before. When I’m out late I’m usually too busy killing evil things.” Or making out with them, she added to herself. No need to tell him that though. “How... how do you know so much?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always loved the stars - ever since I was little. I’d look up and dream. Of course dreams never turn out the way you expect...” A little sigh escaped him as he stared up at the glittering wonders above them, eyes so distant that she had a feeling she might have to tether him down or he’d fly off. “The stars are still the same though, after all this time. From down here - from down here it’s like they never move or change.”
Buffy nodded, thinking of Francesca. She could certainly understand why he’d want to focus on something as immutable as himself.
“Now of course,” he continued, “it’s finally possible to actually see them properly thanks to the Hubble Telescope. It has taken some really incredible images - I could find some for you, if you like? It’s... it’s so beautiful out there. Truly amazing - words can’t do it justice at all, trust me. Although the moon is a little on the dull side up close - too many craters.”
She couldn’t help smiling as she studied him - these immortal types were all the same. “Go on - you were part of the moon landing or something. That’d be so typical.”
To her surprise he looked genuinely horrified. “Are you kidding? Seriously - did you see Apollo 11? It looked like a Blue Peter project!”
“A what?”
He chuckled. “Sorry - British TV reference. What I meant is, it looked like it had been made by kids out of cardboard and tinfoil. I may be immortal, but nothing could have got me onto that spacecraft. I still cross my fingers every time I catch a glimpse of it on TV, because I can’t believe it actually made it.”
“Do you do this often?” she asked after a moment. “Stargazing I mean.”
Slowly he shook his head. “No. Looking up inevitably makes me feel...”
His voice trailed off, and she tried to fill in. “Small?”
He shook his head again.
“...lost.”
There was a pause, then he turned to her, eyes oddly solemn. “You were dead... Did you find out if there’s someone in charge? Is there a God? Do things happen for a reason or is everything just chance?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know... I didn’t meet God or anything when I was dead - I just know that I was happy. But that’s all. Although I’ve met a few creatures over the years who claimed to be gods.” She smiled wryly. “They were generally on the un-mighty side by the time I’d finished with them. Maybe there is a real God, or some sort of power... but whoever he, she or it is, they obviously favour the hands-off approach...”
Except for that one time with the magical Christmas snow... Although given how much heartache her life had brought her both before and after, she didn’t know what to think about that anymore. Maybe it had been a coincidence or... something. She certainly wasn’t about to bring it up now, since it would involve far too many explanations. Also it didn’t prove anything.
Instead she tilted her head. “What about you? What do you believe?”
He was silent for a while before replying, but there was no mistaking the sudden mischief in his eyes as he spoke.
“I believe, that one day I’m going to find an alien who is going to tell me the answer to life, the universe and everything.”
Her eyes narrowed. His mood swings - or avoidance tactics - were rapid, but she was used to dealing with people like that.
“It’s 42.”
Grinning delightedly, he studied her. “You’ve read the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”
“No. I haven’t!” she answered. “Andrew on the other hand...”
“Ah,” he said, and she nodded glumly. “Apparently they’re going to shoot a movie soon - he kept us updated daily on all the news he could find, until I threatened to turn him into spare body parts for the props department.”
The Immortal laughed, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that during his cosmic lecture had managed to sneak an arm behind her shoulders and that they were now snuggled very closely together between two blankets.
His face was mere inches away, and there was no doubting the look in his eyes. She surveyed him drolly.
“You know what? I think you’re trying to seduce me, Mr Immortal.”
“Well I was hoping that’d be obvious,” he replied, bold as anything, as his grip tightened almost imperceptibly.
She’d already made her mind up - probably had ever since the morning in the garden - but didn’t want to let him get away with it so easily.
“And what would you do if I declined?”
His smile deepened as he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’d ask again tomorrow. Not that there is anything wrong with platonic friendship, but if you’d read my book you’d have seen that I think that if there is genuine mutual attraction it should definitely be pursued. Especially when I’m one of the interested parties - I wouldn’t want anyone to miss out.”
He was unbelievable! Oh she’d show him that when it came to bedroom antics she could more than hold her own. Although she appreciated his straightforwardness deeply - despite his mysterious image and his bizarre personality he was... easy.
Cooly she answered. “So, you are just like every other man then - only after one thing!”
His eyes widened in mock-horror. “One thing? Oh there is a whole list, my dear Miss Summers! With an index and footnotes and everything. And given that we’re on a schedule here, I’m worrying that we won’t even begin to make a dent in it.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she could feel her breath hitch at the lust in his eyes. He was outlined against the darkness in black and silver, his blue eyes glinting back at her like the stars in the dark sky above them, and his mouth curved into the tiniest triumphant smile as he gently lifted her face, his hand warm against her cool cheek.
“So may I?” he asked, leaning into her - lips no more than a hairsbreadth away.
She had only known him for a matter of days - and yet... if her life had taught her anything, it was not to hesitate, not to waste time when something good came her way. Mistakes she could live with. But regrets...
So she smiled back, ready to seize and enjoy every moment she was given.
“You may.”
Chapter 6.
ETA: Dedicating this to pfeifferpack (belatedly, because I am stoopid) - I hope you like it dear and Happy Birthday (again)!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 4500 words approx.
Chapter 5
Angel: What the hell could Buffy see in him?
Demon Butler: Perhaps she likes the cut of his trousers.
[...]
You must be so lonely. Your girlfriend has become lovers with The Immortal. How unfortunate for you. And how fortunate for her.
Sunday 4th of April (lunchtime)
Arms. He had very good arms. Actually the whole chest area was really quite above par. Although there was the fact that he used guns, but she was quite willing to overlook that...
Buffy had spent most of a week trying not to think about how hot The Immortal was, so finally indulging was a relief. Actually thinking about any man was a nice break.
Slowly emerging from her contemplations she realised that Dawn had been talking and was probably expecting a reply of some sort. Quickly she nodded and said "Of course!" as naturally as she could, before shoving some more salad into her mouth. Lunch. That's what was happening. With the food and the talking to her sister and such.
Dawn grinned widely. "Ha! You just said that it was fine for me to go on a date with Marco."
Buffy frowned. "What? No - I... no. No no no no no! He's bad news and you shouldn't see him. Oh and by the way if he was the 'hot date' that you cancelled, then it was never a date to begin with. Also his pants are way too tight and... leathery. He could be evil."
Her sister didn't seem impressed with her deductions. "You think he's evil because he wears leather pants?"
"M-hm!" Buffy thought to herself that this was a perfectly logical argument, but Dawn just shook her head. "Dating the Buffy way: Check out the pants!"
"You can tell a lot about a man from his pants," she shot back. 'Like if he wears any underwear' she added to herself, but didn't feel like sharing that with Dawn. Sisterly bonding was all well and good, but there were limits.
"So - what do The Immortal's pants say about him?" Dawn asked, not letting the subject drop.
Buffy thought for a moment. "That he has a very, very good tailor. Seriously. All men should wear trousers that well cut, even if it’s more difficult to tell the evil from the good that way."
This earned her a smirk from the other side of the table, and Buffy realised that they'd wandered far from the starting point. "But - leather is evil. Also he's going to get you killed with that motorbike of his."
Dawn lifted an eyebrow in that way Buffy dreaded. "Says the most dangerous moped-driver in Rome."
"What? I'm not dangerous. I'm... assertive! Romans are very aggressive - you have to stand up for yourself or they drive all over you."
Dawn shook her head, not at all bothering to hide her smile. "Anyway, you so do not have a leg to stand on, because I can totally tell you're going to see The Immortal, and he is a lot more dangerous than a 20 year old with a Harley."
"I think it's about even," Buffy decided after a moment's consideration. "Especially since I know for a fact that The Immortal isn't evil. At least not evil evil."
"Hm," Dawn replied. "Are you going to tell me what happened this morning, or just keep drifting off in daydreams?"
"Daydreams!" Buffy answered chirpily, and Dawn sighed deeply. "When are you seeing him?"
"Tomorrow night I think."
She glanced at her phone and felt a happy glow of anticipation. She was sure it'd be a proper date, in a restaurant and everything - it might not even be interrupted by vampires or ritual sacrifices or gloomy friends!
Life was good.
Monday 5th of April
But - life dating The Immortal could be full of last-minute changes, Buffy soon discovered. Late Monday afternoon he called - very apologetically - and asked if she'd mind changing their plans a little, since he'd been caught up in something that would take a little longer than anticipated.
He sounded a little... off, and she asked if he was OK.
"I'll be fine," he replied, refusing to explain further, instead suggesting that he could come by to pick her up around 9 o’clock and they could work out what to do then?
“On the plus side I’m excellent at improvising,” he added, and she could almost hear the grin.
At 9 pm sharp he knocked on the door, his wide smile faltering slightly when Andrew opened it.
"Oh my god, it's really you! And you're even more handsome than-" Andrew managed, before Buffy grabbed his arm and shoved him out of the way.
"So sorry. He wouldn't leave, and if I threw him out of the window he'd just sit by the front door and whine like a lost puppy."
Then she realised that The Immortal had apparently been talking literally when he mentioned chocolates and flowers, before failing to stop Dawn from snatching the former.
"Thank you," Buffy said, taking the flowers and sending Dawn her most evil look. The Immortal chuckled. "Hey - I'm supposed to be the perfect date, aren't I?"
He winked conspiratorially, before admiring her very 40s Hollywood starlet dress (which had taken her most of the day to find, in a very intense shopping expedition, but his admiration was totally worth it).
But then Andrew pushed himself forwards again.
"I'm so sorry, but do you think you could sign my book. I mean, your book. I mean, my copy of your book. I sleep with it."
The Immortal - for the first time Buffy had seen - looked genuinely worried and concerned, and Buffy sighed deeply. "This is Andrew. He's my... he's the local Watcher. Sort of. He used to be an annoying nerd with evil pretensions, now he's a reformed annoying nerd with watcherly pretensions. But he does know a lot about demons, which is why I haven't kicked him back to London. Yet."
Andrew however ignored her completely and, with mute adoration in his eyes, held out the book and a pen.
After a moment The Immortal took both, and - clearly trying to curb a grin - wrote on the front page of the book. He handed it back and then turned to Buffy, holding out his arm. "Shall we?"
Grabbing a coat she grinned back. "I think we shall!"
"Wait - where are you taking her? And when will you be bringing her back? And... what exactly are your intentions?"
Dawn was doing her best mom-impersonation, but The Immortal was utterly unfazed.
"Considering how late it is, I was thinking of taking her out stargazing - which would probably take all night. And as for my intentions... Well, I'm open to suggestions."
Buffy laughed, then suddenly had a thought. "Oh - by the way, if you ever have some spare time, do you think you could check out some guy called Marco? Usually spotted in the vicinity of my sister, or a Harley, and covered in leather. I think he's evil - or possibly gay - and would like to know for sure."
"Sounds like something I'd be very happy to do," The Immortal smirked, and Dawn scowled.
"You know she's evil, right?" she said, pointing to Buffy, but The Immortal just grinned and wrapped an arm around Buffy's waist.
"Excellent! I like my women evil."
Shooting Andrew a swift look, Buffy couldn't help proving her wickedness by asking: "How do you like your men?"
Following her gaze, The Immortal's smiled deepened.
"Naked," he replied, catching Andrew's eyes and holding them until the other turned a new and very interesting shade of scarlet.
Buffy thought that her sources had only been a little wrong. He wasn’t perfect perfect - just perfect for her.
In the car, she - curious - asked what he'd written in Andrew's book.
The Immortal smirked. "Just a little advice. If he's sleeping with the book, he's been reading it wrong. Unless there's a chapter on bibliophilia at the back, which I doubt. Although I've never actually read through the whole thing, so I could be wrong."
Buffy stared. "You've not read your own book?"
He shot her a surprised look. "I know what it says. Why would I read it?"
She blinked, trying to wrap her head around his words. "That's- I'm confused. You are confusing. 'Splainy?"
He chuckled. “Well, I know what it says because it’s about my life philosophy or whatever it’s called these days. And I haven’t read it because I didn’t write it. Which - by the way - is a secret, so don’t go mentioning it, okay?”
“Sure,” she replied, slowly nodding. “So... you hired a ghost writer?”
A sideways smile and a slight shake of the head. “Not exactly... First of all I didn’t hire him, he came to me, and second he was an actual writer ghost.”
And the weirdness just kept coming. “Writer ghost? As in... a ghost that writes?”
“Exactly!” he replied, effortlessly maneuvering the car through the late evening traffic. “A lot of ghost writers are writer ghosts by the way - saves a lot of money etc - but this guy showed up...” he thought for a moment, “oh about twenty years ago? Started following me around, saying that he liked my attitude - he’d been one of those people who did everything he ought to, and nothing he wanted to. You know, the usual story. Anyway, the next time I returned he’d written a whole book about my outlook on life. Which was... flattering.”
Shooting her a wide grin he almost missed the traffic lights changing to red, and belatedly slammed the brakes on.
“Damn. Ought to have a siren, or police lights or something... Anyway, he wanted to publish the thing - to ‘spread the message’ - and I figured why not? Decided to use my name on the cover since he’d been dead for over a century and it was all ‘my’ ideas after all. I skimmed the final draft, but could never get all the way through it - as you might have gathered I much prefer practice to theory. But people seem to like it, which is nice, because try as I might, I’ll never actually be able to ‘talk’ to everyone in the world. Which - according to some people - is a good thing.”
He shot her a look so inscrutable that she couldn’t work out if it was a joke or not, but thankfully they then arrived at the house. This time they entered through the back door which led into the kitchen, and it was obvious that here the servants ruled. It was markedly different in style to the rest of the house - despite its size it felt warm and cosy, furniture and appliances well worn and clearly chosen for durability and efficiency rather than style or show-off factor.
Within moments Francesca appeared, and Buffy began wondering if The Immortal had hired all his staff from central casting - the elderly housekeeper, with her black dress and silvery hair tied up in a bun, looked like she had stepped straight out of a movie or TV drama. As soon as she was told of their plans, she brought out the largest hamper Buffy had ever seen and then began attempting to fit the entire contents of the fridge into it. Apparently 'stargazing' was another word for 'night-time picnic', or rather ‘night-time banquet with ten courses’.
In between dashing to and fro - blankly refusing any help - Francesca talked at great length about her family, in the process pointing out the obvious artistic talent of her youngest granddaughter, Marina, who had recently turned four and whose pictures adorned the fridge. The Immortal gravely admired the colourful drawings, before trying to steal some olives whilst Francesca’s back was turned. This earned him a severe telling off, although of course he just grinned impishly, not at all apologetic.
Then - possibly trying to stop the old woman glaring daggers at him - he tilted his head and asked what she thought of Buffy.
"Ah!” Francesca stopped for whole two seconds and beamed. “Such a lovely girl. You know, she called on the telephone before the party and asked so very politely if she could bring her sister. 'Of course!' I say, 'bring whole family!' Then she tells me that her sister is her whole family. Is tragic. Tragic!”
She shook her head, muttering about the unfairness of life and death, before turning to Buffy. “You always welcome here cara mia. In Immortal's house - everyone is family!”
“Absolutely,” The Immortal added. But, despite the smile on his face, his eyes were shielded in a way Buffy couldn't quite work out.
Francesca however didn’t seem to notice as she continued talking to Buffy. “You will be good for him I think. A good girl - or boy - is what he needs, I have said it again and again; but so many times he just goes for the pretty face.” She shook her head in disapproval, and The Immortal chuckled.
"Francesca has been my self-appointed date-vetter for years now. Ever since I brought that Brazilian guy home - what was his name again?"
"Paolo!" the elderly woman spat, like even saying the name was too good for him. "Vain and wicked he was. Bad - very, very bad!"
"He was a trapeze artist from a circus," The Immortal elaborated, "and unbelievably talented and limber. Also gorgeous. Which of course he knew - practically had a mirror stapled to his hand. I, however, only had the pleasure of looking at him for a very short while - Francesca saw to that."
Intrigued, Buffy asked what had happened.
Another chuckle that brought out the dimples again. "She put itching powder down the back of his shirt - I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. Long story short, he got seriously pissed off and walked out, never to return."
Buffy stared at the little old lady in front of her, who was with great care adding the last few items to the hamper, looking the very picture of stately respectability and quiet dignity. Buffy quite simply couldn’t get The Immortal’s words to fit - he might as well have said that she'd attacked him with a chain saw.
"Itching powder?" she asked, voice laced with incredulity.
Smiling indulgently, The Immortal explained.
"Well she was only seven at the time."
For a moment Buffy could almost hear time whoosh past her as the past flashed in front of her eyes, so vivid that it drowned out the world completely.
The Mayor, talking about his wife growing old - Angel breaking up with her, calling their relationship a 'freak show' - wanting her to have a normal life - Spike's incredible reluctance to make any kind of move...
She'd known, she'd understood, and yet... Suddenly she saw - right in front of her face - what they'd talked about, saw the true tragedy of immortality.
And all because of an old woman who’d once been a mischievous child, whilst The Immortal had not changed at all...
No wonder her vampires had been so antisocial, so loath to engage with humans, considering the price for standing out of time. And no wonder The Immortal tried to go for ‘the pretty ones’ - the easy ones - those who wouldn’t break his heart.
Although she had a feeling he was no better at shielding his heart than she.
***
The car loaded up with the enormo-hamper and a large pile of blankets, they set off. Slowly the noisy, bright town filtered away and the countryside spread out next to them, calm and dark. Driving past farms and vineyards, blurred from speed, Buffy remembered Riley promising to show her the joys of driving; and as The Immortal’s sleek Ferrari effortlessly tore through the night, making her feel rather as if they were flying, she thought that she finally knew what he’d been on about - although she found herself rather amused at who her guide had turned out to be.
Then she noticed that they were slowing down, The Immortal looking as if he was searching for something, and then he turned off down a small unlit side road. A little later the car came to a smooth standstill and The Immortal got out, swiftly running round the car and holding her door open for her.
Then he unloaded the hamper and the blankets, before vaulting over the fence they were parked next to, asking her if she’d mind passing their things over.
She looked around, trying to make out anything other than dark trees against a dark, cloudless sky. “Where are we?”
“Orange grove,” he explained, pointing to the trees behind him. “We’re a bit early - the trees won’t flower for around another month, which is a shame. Afraid I can’t control the seasons.”
Slowly she shook her head. “But - is it yours? Or do you know who lives here?”
He shook his head, clearly not bothered. “Looked nice. Hamper?”
“But what if someone comes?”
“We’ll explain that we’re having a picnic.” He looked at her, like this was the most logical thing in the world, and she decided to just go with it. It was nearly midnight after all, and he was very, very pretty.
Slightly worried, she wondered if his attitude to life was contagious... Not that she was a stranger to trespassing, but usually it was for more urgent and serious reasons. Although knowing her luck there would probably be a vamp nest somewhere nearby.
Still, when they were sitting on the blanket a little later on a small grassy hill, indulging in delicious food and champagne, Buffy had to agree that this was a fantastic idea. Considering how long she’d been dating night-time creatures, she’d never done much night-time picnicking. Although graveyards were not as romantic as orange groves she had to admit - there was no sign of badness here. And there was something wonderfully freeing about sinking into this perfect date - she almost expected there to be swelling background music as he fed her grapes and gateau.
But then, when the vast leftovers had been packed away, he surprised her again by lying back on the blanket, hands behind his head, and looking up at the sky.
“So - what do you know about stars?” he asked, and she realised that he might have actually been literal when he talked about ‘stargazing’.
Which, given his innuendo-laden talk, was just bizarre.
“Um...” she replied, lying down beside him and shooting him a glance, wondering if it was a trick of some sort. But he appeared perfectly genuine, so she looked up at the clear sky and honed in on the one constellation she knew.
“I can find the the Big Dipper.”
“As good a place to start as any,” he said, before moving a little closer, pointing upwards. “If you look at Mizar - that’s the second star from the end of the handle - then if you look really carefully you should be able to make out two stars very close together.”
She squinted up at the sky, and then grinned. “Oh yes. Cool!”
“The second one is called Alcor, and is actually three light years away from Mizar - they just this look close when viewed from Earth. Mizar itself is actually a triple star - or rather, it’s a double star, and it’s companion is also a double star.” He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly continued.
“There might be planets around those stars... imagine what they would be like. Three sunsets, three sunrises every day - but, because the suns are all revolving around each other, the pattern would always be changing.” He chuckled. "Timekeeping would be a real bitch."
Then he abruptly jumped to another section of sky, carefully taking her from star to star, until her head was spinning. Galaxies and black holes and stars dying and being born - it was a bit like walking round the Colosseum with a really good tour guide, one who could make the dusty history live. Except this history was so much... bigger. Human history seemed to shrink to insignificance in comparison with the life span of the near-eternal beauty of the heavens above.
As he stopped his lecture to have a sip of wine, she answered the unspoken question in his eyes.
”I - I never actually looked at the stars before. When I’m out late I’m usually too busy killing evil things.” Or making out with them, she added to herself. No need to tell him that though. “How... how do you know so much?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always loved the stars - ever since I was little. I’d look up and dream. Of course dreams never turn out the way you expect...” A little sigh escaped him as he stared up at the glittering wonders above them, eyes so distant that she had a feeling she might have to tether him down or he’d fly off. “The stars are still the same though, after all this time. From down here - from down here it’s like they never move or change.”
Buffy nodded, thinking of Francesca. She could certainly understand why he’d want to focus on something as immutable as himself.
“Now of course,” he continued, “it’s finally possible to actually see them properly thanks to the Hubble Telescope. It has taken some really incredible images - I could find some for you, if you like? It’s... it’s so beautiful out there. Truly amazing - words can’t do it justice at all, trust me. Although the moon is a little on the dull side up close - too many craters.”
She couldn’t help smiling as she studied him - these immortal types were all the same. “Go on - you were part of the moon landing or something. That’d be so typical.”
To her surprise he looked genuinely horrified. “Are you kidding? Seriously - did you see Apollo 11? It looked like a Blue Peter project!”
“A what?”
He chuckled. “Sorry - British TV reference. What I meant is, it looked like it had been made by kids out of cardboard and tinfoil. I may be immortal, but nothing could have got me onto that spacecraft. I still cross my fingers every time I catch a glimpse of it on TV, because I can’t believe it actually made it.”
“Do you do this often?” she asked after a moment. “Stargazing I mean.”
Slowly he shook his head. “No. Looking up inevitably makes me feel...”
His voice trailed off, and she tried to fill in. “Small?”
He shook his head again.
“...lost.”
There was a pause, then he turned to her, eyes oddly solemn. “You were dead... Did you find out if there’s someone in charge? Is there a God? Do things happen for a reason or is everything just chance?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know... I didn’t meet God or anything when I was dead - I just know that I was happy. But that’s all. Although I’ve met a few creatures over the years who claimed to be gods.” She smiled wryly. “They were generally on the un-mighty side by the time I’d finished with them. Maybe there is a real God, or some sort of power... but whoever he, she or it is, they obviously favour the hands-off approach...”
Except for that one time with the magical Christmas snow... Although given how much heartache her life had brought her both before and after, she didn’t know what to think about that anymore. Maybe it had been a coincidence or... something. She certainly wasn’t about to bring it up now, since it would involve far too many explanations. Also it didn’t prove anything.
Instead she tilted her head. “What about you? What do you believe?”
He was silent for a while before replying, but there was no mistaking the sudden mischief in his eyes as he spoke.
“I believe, that one day I’m going to find an alien who is going to tell me the answer to life, the universe and everything.”
Her eyes narrowed. His mood swings - or avoidance tactics - were rapid, but she was used to dealing with people like that.
“It’s 42.”
Grinning delightedly, he studied her. “You’ve read the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”
“No. I haven’t!” she answered. “Andrew on the other hand...”
“Ah,” he said, and she nodded glumly. “Apparently they’re going to shoot a movie soon - he kept us updated daily on all the news he could find, until I threatened to turn him into spare body parts for the props department.”
The Immortal laughed, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that during his cosmic lecture had managed to sneak an arm behind her shoulders and that they were now snuggled very closely together between two blankets.
His face was mere inches away, and there was no doubting the look in his eyes. She surveyed him drolly.
“You know what? I think you’re trying to seduce me, Mr Immortal.”
“Well I was hoping that’d be obvious,” he replied, bold as anything, as his grip tightened almost imperceptibly.
She’d already made her mind up - probably had ever since the morning in the garden - but didn’t want to let him get away with it so easily.
“And what would you do if I declined?”
His smile deepened as he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’d ask again tomorrow. Not that there is anything wrong with platonic friendship, but if you’d read my book you’d have seen that I think that if there is genuine mutual attraction it should definitely be pursued. Especially when I’m one of the interested parties - I wouldn’t want anyone to miss out.”
He was unbelievable! Oh she’d show him that when it came to bedroom antics she could more than hold her own. Although she appreciated his straightforwardness deeply - despite his mysterious image and his bizarre personality he was... easy.
Cooly she answered. “So, you are just like every other man then - only after one thing!”
His eyes widened in mock-horror. “One thing? Oh there is a whole list, my dear Miss Summers! With an index and footnotes and everything. And given that we’re on a schedule here, I’m worrying that we won’t even begin to make a dent in it.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she could feel her breath hitch at the lust in his eyes. He was outlined against the darkness in black and silver, his blue eyes glinting back at her like the stars in the dark sky above them, and his mouth curved into the tiniest triumphant smile as he gently lifted her face, his hand warm against her cool cheek.
“So may I?” he asked, leaning into her - lips no more than a hairsbreadth away.
She had only known him for a matter of days - and yet... if her life had taught her anything, it was not to hesitate, not to waste time when something good came her way. Mistakes she could live with. But regrets...
So she smiled back, ready to seize and enjoy every moment she was given.
“You may.”
Chapter 6.