Fabulous Monsters part the fifth

[wolfine]

Cash's eyes widened slightly, feeling the slight tremble beginning in the
other man. Methos' mouth was set in fierce determination, fighting his own
instincts. The young Gangrel started to shake his head, but Methos tugged
sharply at the leather material in his fist. "I'm not crazy about this idea but
I'm somewhat fixated on living, so if it tips the scales in our favor..." His
eyes bore into Cash's. If the young vampire argued with him, he was going to
gut him with his sword. To his relief and simultaneous apprehension, Cash
finally nodded, seeing the wisdom in Methos' idea and unconsciously bowing his
head to the other's stronger will. Methos slammed his sword, point first, into
a nearby stack of hay, feeling suddenly bereft without it's solid weight in his
hand.

Cash stole a glance at Duncan and his Prince, hearing the two whispering to
each other but unable to make out what they were saying. He looked back at
Methos, watching as the other man began to roll up his sleeve to offer his pale
arm, and could tell by the tension in the spare body that this was costing
Methos a great deal. He laid a hand gently over the wrist, stopping the motion.

"Wait. It doesn't have to be like that..." Cash moved a step closer to
Methos, his hand coming up to stroke Methos' jaw and around his generous ear.
Methos was watching him like a nervous charger, his senses alert and wary. The
greenish eyes narrowed at the young Kindred at first, but Cash wrapped his
other arm around the man's waist just as Methos grabbed his hips and slammed
his body tight against his own, his expression one of challenge. Cash gasped
slightly, awed by the man's courage, and pressed himself between the flaps of
Methos' coat. The warmth was welcome and he bent his head to run soft lips over
Methos' delicate skin just under the ear, causing minor quakes along the length
of his body.

Muscles jumped and twitched in the strong thighs entwined between Cash's legs
and he felt hands tentatively slide over his shoulders to clasp his back.
Methos swallowed hard, drawing Cash's attention to his neck and prompting him
to nuzzle the fragrant skin with his nose and lips. Methos let out a ragged
breath and Cash cradled him gently, guessing that Methos had known only
violence from whatever Kindred he had met up with in his life. It made Cash
even more determined to make this as painless as he could for Methos. Cash
smothered Methos''s pulse point in a breathy kiss, feeling the man in his arms
respond. He let his tongue roam freely over the creamy skin while he
experimentally shifted his hips to press against Methos' groin. The man cut off
a groan just in time, and Cash felt his whole body being rubbed back.

Methos himself was shocked at his own responses, unsure if his enjoyment of
Cash's sensuous nibbles was a good idea or not. He had committed himself to
this course of action, believing it may give them a margin of success, but he
had held no illusions that he would like it. A half minute ago he would have
congratulated himself on just being able to hold still while the young man fed
on him, but now he was anticipating the stinging pain with a small amount of
impatience.

It *had* been a frightfully long time since anyone had held him in their arms,
and he hadn't allowed himself to notice the lack of simple animal closeness.
Joe was always good for an arm squeeze and MacLeod had progressed to the point
of offering Methos friendly pats on the back, but the young man in his arms was
touching him in places that started begging for more. He tried focusing on the
fact that his sworn enemy was at his throat, but the implied danger only seemed
to make his blood pound. He was unable to stifle the gasp as Cash lifted him
slightly off the ground, hand firmly clutching his ass as sharp fangs dug
points of pain into his neck. He threw his head back, feeling his cock swell as
a smooth tongue began to swirl in the wetness on his skin, mimicking the slow
twirl of hips against his own.

For Cash, this experience was going down as one of the most intense he had
ever had in his long life. He had found himself encouraged by Methos' response
to him when he had taken the man in his arms, and allowed himself a small
amount of pride when he realized Methos was fighting the urge to groan under
the assault. He had wanted to make the Undying man forget what he was doing,
forget that he should hate and fear what had always been an intimate exchange
to Cash.

Kissing and stroking hadn't been a hardship for Cash anyway, Methos was a good
looking guy in a lot of ways. That long, supple neck called to the Kindred,
just begging for hot kisses and hungry fangs. His big eyes shifted from
welcoming dark to piercing in the space of moments, depending on the light and
his mood, and the angular face and pale skin set off the redness of his lips
when they weren't pressed into a tight line. Cash had decided he wanted to
taste them, just once, when all this mess was over. Providing they got the
chance, of course. And while the man hid his body in loose fitting clothing,
once Cash had gotten his arms around him, he discovered Methos was a well
developed man, broad shouldered and sleek muscled, and begging to be touched.
Cash gathered Methos into his arms, taking most of his weight into his embrace,
and penetrated Methos with his mouth.

Brilliant heat fountained from the wound, hurried along by the heightened
pressure in the body trembling in Cash's arms. One swallow and Cash was lost.
The blood was like honey to a starving man, rich and whole and seemingly alive.
He swallowed, gulping pure light, and feeling the red liquid settle into dark
and lonely places in his own body, transforming him. He grasped Methos tighter,
reveling in the gasp against his ear, the intimate sound diving down along with
the blood until it hit his cock, the sound and the blood swelling and filling
him and making him grind his groin against the hot body he held. More blood
flowed, not quite as swift, and Cash wanted to be inside Methos, to bury
himself in the intense heat in the ass and veins inside. Strong hands gripped
his body, twin points of heat and desire that opened and closed repeatedly as
their owner writhed, never once pushing him away, only clasping him closer. A
small part of Cash's mind was standing in wonder at all this, amazed that
Julian had been allowed to experience this without cease and that, for some
reason he couldn't remember, he was going to be denied the full measure. The
thundering of the heart next to his own was making too much noise and the wet
sound was drowning out anything his mind was trying to tell him, even
overpowering the odd, frantic noises behind him. The blood was sex and
salvation and so, *so* good!

There was pain suddenly at the back of his head, and Cash had trouble figuring
out why. Then the commanding voice of his Prince finally made its way through
the fog, and reality snapped back into focus. Julian had a hand wound painfully
tight in the hair at the back of his head, encouraging him to pull away from
the long column of throat that was the source of pleasure for Cash. Part of the
young Gangrel wanted to fight, to growl and warn others away from his sensuous
feast, this willing man who's very blood sang "life, all for you" in his veins,
but Kindred instincts prevailed and he gently removed his teeth from the
yielded flesh. He lapped quickly, sealing the wound and cleaning the gore from
it's milky surface, fairly humming from the joy and life pumping through his
frame. His tongue bath finished, he spent a moment softly kissing the warm
skin, feeling the life still contained there, vibrating gently under his lips.
He was still marginally hard, like the beautiful man whom he cradled against
his chest, the man whose name he finally remembered as Methos. He whispered the
name against the skin, pitched only for its owners hearing, and smiled as the
pale expanse goose fleshed under his lips. He straightened slightly, assisting
Methos to his feet, helped by Duncan who was on the other side. Cash allowed
himself one last sigh of satisfaction and turned his head towards his Prince to
face his wrath. Julian's face was dark as thunderous sky, but he was staring
fixedly at Methos, and Cash finally picked up the thread of conversation.

"...last time, it was my idea. If we can boost Cash's abilities, it might be
all the advantage we need." He faltered then, his anger at MacLeod's
protectiveness giving way to fatigue. "I'll recover, just give me a minute."

Duncan decided not to waste Methos' energy with argument, giving in so rapidly
that Methos looked at him in shock. "Well, you could have let us in on what you
were doing. He wouldn't have been able to stop on his own, you know."

Methos stood under his own power and brought himself up to his full height. "I
knew you two would notice us once you left off snogging." Duncan and Julian
both blushed furiously, but said nothing. Methos attempted a step, swaying
awkwardly until Duncan's arm shot out to steady him.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Methos resisted the urge to roll his eyes, only because he was afraid it would
make him lose his balance. "You'll have to excuse me. I usually get a lollipop
after I give blood." He winked wickedly at Cash, who smiled back before he
could stop himself. Julian sighed, still obviously unhappy with his Primogen's
decision to go along with this plan, but Cash just gave a half hearted shrug.
Julian understood it all too well; they were most likely dead men anyway.

Julian leaned close to Cash and whispered instructions to him in lieu of
criticism. "He's your responsibility now. You will do all you can to get him
out of here alive." Cash swallowed and nodded, shouldering Methos' life without
question. As it was, the blood surging through him was so strong, he felt he
could take on Merrick's entire gang. He knew this to be foolishness though, and
trusted Julian to keep him from doing utterly foolish things. He glanced at
Duncan, wearing his own dark expression, but Cash could not tell who the man
was more furious with, himself or Methos. He about to speak when he heard
voices outside and he dashed to the window. The moonlight revealed two dozen
Kindred headed for the barn.

Seconds later, a mob of Gangrel entered, one individual standing out from his
peers by shear height and bearing. Over six foot tall and crowned with jet
black hair over sky blue eyes, Oscar Merrick was as beautiful as he was
imposing. Julian strode to the edge of the loft and looked at him in stony
silence, seeing him first as mortals would, noting the chiseled face and silken
hair, broad shoulders and generous hands. His clothing was simple, black jeans
and leather jacket, red and black plaid shirt. Coming across him in the woods,
he would appear to be a mountain man; large and fierce on the outside with a
gentle nature and an honest heart inside. But Julian knew how deceiving looks
were for Kindred and the light in Merrick's eyes bespoke a killers
determination. While his Gangrel pack were disheveled and inexperienced,
Merrick had all the earmarks of a future Prince. If he managed to overthrow
Thomas Grendel, Julian had no doubt Merrick would rule Seacouver and the
surrounding area for many, many decades. Unhappily, Julian and his tiny band
were to play their part in this takeover, and although Julian would have given
much to see Merrick and Grendel fight for dominance, he had no illusions he
would be around to witness it.

Merrick's eyes never left Julian's, he thought the others no importance
whatsoever. When he spoke, his voice was a knife-edged purr. "Luna. You have
killed three of my childe."

Julian knew better than to show throat to this one. "They broke the law.
They-"

Merrick roared. "I am the Law!" The sound reverberated off the old wood of the
barn walls and soaked into the hay and cobwebs that lined the structure. Duncan
jumped slightly, waiting for the inevitable despot syndrome to surface. Merrick
was in a position to show his strength and leadership qualities to his
followers and whatever he decided would most likely be rather fatal to those
whom Duncan held dear.

Julian kept his rage in check, but it was a very near thing. "You are not yet
Prince, Merrick. The day you can take Thomas Grendel's' throat, then your word
will be law."

Merrick only smiled a sickly, demented expression up at Julian, his eyes
calculatingly bright. "As the Toreador say, I can open two veins with one
tooth. Your demise will bring him to me for revenge, and without you to back
him, his strength will be diminished." Julian scowled, realizing Merrick was
under the impression Julian was lending Grendel far more aid than he really
was. Thomas may have underestimated the time Merrick would make his move, but
he had let Merrick think he was not as strong without his former Prince's
support. It was a tactical error Merrick would come to regret, of that Julian
was sure. His attention flicked to either side of the barn as both doors opened
and several more Kindred entered. They had a sharp, dangerous smell to them
that Julian didn't want to name, and it made his skin crawl. Merrick gave him
one last, smug look.

"I told you. I am the Law, and I say who lives. And who dies."

Small sparks illuminated the dim barn briefly, then blossomed into small
flames as their fire transferred to gas soaked rags stuffed into bottles. The
Kindred quickly threw them up into the loft, some arcing high overhead to land
behind the four men, catching fire to the hay bales at their backs. Cash
managed to kick one flaming bomb back down below, but the rest had spread their
flammable liquid over enough of the dry hay to make it impossible to extinguish
all of it. Merrick's gang howled below, awaiting the hapless Kindred who would
rather face their fangs than the licking kiss of the flames.

"Oh, shit..." said Methos.

All four men had jumped when the fire bombs had been thrown at them, surging
away from the flames. Julian found himself on the left side of the loft with
Methos, while Cash and Duncan made a dive for the right. Flames had come up
between them, and both parties ran to the opposite windows, hoping to find
salvation. Julian elbowed the glass away, noticing how small the opening was,
but a man could squeeze through if he had to. Unfortunately, one look below
showed Merrick's Gangrels patiently waiting below, like hungry sharks awaiting
their prey. Methos was at his side, his face also grim as he sized up their
situation. Julian looked at him sharply as the fire at their back grew.

"Can your kind survive fire?"

Methos winced. "It's been known to happen, but insanity is often a side
affect." Julian nodded, not surprised that the agony of being burned would
steal the mind. Methos glanced at him, the same question in his eyes. "Yours?"

Julian shook his head. "No."

Several blazing hay bales fell behind them, intensifying the heat. Methos had
already decided he was taking his chances down below, calculating that being
torn apart was preferable to being roasted alive. He looked at the spot he had
last seen Cash and MacLeod, but was unable to spot them. Had they fallen
already, or squeezed themselves out the window to drop to the ground? If that
were the case, he would have thought the dramatic Scot would have at least said
good-bye...

"Julian!"

Julian turned to look across the loft, as amazed as Methos when he didn't see
Duncan or Cash. "Duncan?" Like a coiled spring he leaped across the burning
half of the loft, instinctively searching for his mate. If he was going to die
in flames, he had the romantic notion his last moments were going to be spent
in the arms of his lover. The window on that side of the loft was still closed,
the entire back of the hay filled loft was engulfed, and a quick glance below
only showed him two Gangrel erecting a pile of equipment to allow them to climb
up to the loft. They were the least of Julian's worries and he turned about,
unable to locate his friends. "Duncan? Cash?"

"Julian! Up here!"

Julian followed the sound, finally seeing the dark patch of night sky that had
opened up in the ceiling of the barn. They had found a small doorway to the
roof! He could just make out Duncan and Cash's faces, as well as hands reaching
down to help him up. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, then turned towards
his original position. "Methos!" He could barely make out the other man through
the flames and was beginning to think he was going to have to convince the man
to jump towards him, but Methos was already ahead of him. His coat wrapped
around his face to protect himself from damage, Methos came hurtling out of the
fire towards Julian. Unfortunately, the flames and accompanying smoke caused
him to misjudge his leap and he landed perilously close to the edge of the
loft, causing the Gangrel below to snap and snarl in excitement. Then he felt
strong hands wind around his waist and haul him bodily back from the edge and
he twisted around in the embrace, only to come face to face with Julian. He
nodded a quick thanks to the Kindred, who checked him over to make sure he was
not alight, and leaned towards his ear.

"They found a way out. We have to get to the roof."

Methos nodded and was not surprised when Julian pushed him towards a stack of
bales that lead towards the barn's trapdoor. Cash and Duncan both leaned over,
grasping his hands and pulling him through the opening, but he felt the bales
beginning to crumble under his feet. The bales had been burning from the back
side and were disintegrating. After much tugging and gripping of hands in
tender and personal places, his body finally cleared the ceiling and he came to
rest atop the roof on hands and knees. He coughed as cool, clean air filled his
lungs and caressed his face.

Once he gained his feet, Methos turned to help the other two, but there was
not enough room for all of them at the tiny trapdoor. Happily, Julian possessed
enough strength to leap up to the opening, and Cash and Duncan had him by the
hands and arms, pulling frantically against his weight. Julian's upper body had
cleared the door, but they seemed to be having trouble pulling him the rest of
the way. He was wriggling desperately, and Methos finally realized the two
Kindred who had been below must have gained the loft and were trying to drag
him back down. Pain was beginning to show on Julian's face and the Immortal
could only imagine how he was being ripped apart. Duncan shifted, digging in
his heels, unable to get a better grip for fear of losing his hold on Julian
altogether. Methos strode over and crouched, grabbing the Kindred Prince under
the arms. Throwing his weight backwards, he was pleased when he felt Julian
begin to clear the roof. Not wishing to stop the momentum or wind up with the
heavy man squashing the life out of him, Methos planted his feet in Julian's
stomach and sent him sailing over his head.

"Whoa!" Julian hadn't expected Methos' move, and found himself flying across
the roof. He landed a few feet away, stumbling awkwardly as his foot landed on
an object and rolled out from beneath him. He was about to berate himself for
being so clumsy when the object issued a small beep, it's little green lights
forming into the familiar pattern of a keypad.

By the trapdoor, Duncan and Cash had recovered from their own fall backwards
when Julian had finally slipped through. Cash immediately leaped to close it,
but one of the Gangrel had made it to the entrance and was fighting to get to
the roof. Alone, Merrick's Gangrel was going to have no chance against the four
men, but he was in a raging kill-frenzy, and was heedless of his own safety.
Cash slammed the door shut, but the Gangrel was fighting back, nearly unseating
Cash as the young man added his own weight to the door.

The Gangrel finally backed off under the weight until only his fingers could
be seen between the door and the roof, and Methos unceremoniously drew his
sword and sent it crashing down through the digits. A howl of pain echoed
through the burning barn and as Methos kicked the small finger pieces over the
side of the roof, Cash shivered, looking at Methos with a smile of savage
respect. Without thinking, Methos grinned back as Duncan rolled his eyes,
slightly disgusted by his friend's graveyard sense of humor. He then glanced
across the roof to his Kindred lover, surprised that Julian had not joined them
and worried he was injured. The Kindred was huddled a few feet from them, his
hand to his ear, talking to himself.

"Julian?"

Julian turned towards the three men and they could see he had a cell phone in
hand and was busily relaying their predicament to whomever he had on the phone.
Methos scowled darkly.

"You mean all this time he's had a phone with him?"

Cash came to his Prince's defense, no less puzzled. "No, we left it in the
car."

Just then Julian looked at Duncan with questioning eyes. "Do you know where we
are, exactly?"

Methos piped up. "The old Rosemont estate."

Julian nodded. "Thomas, we're at the old Rosemont estate. We're on top of the
barn, and it's on fire. Good, yes. And Thomas..." Julian looked nervously
across the roof to the two trees that grew close to the barn, watching the dark
shapes writhing in the branches as they climbed higher. "...hurry."

Closing the phone, Julian stepped back to his small group, accepting Duncan's
spontaneous hug and squeezing his lover back. He ran a hand down Cash's arm,
satisfied that he and Methos were unharmed and nodded gratefully at Methos for
his help. The Highlander fussed over Julian's bleeding legs, a gift from the
now fingerless Gangrel, but Julian assured Duncan he would heal quickly.

"Thomas and his people are on their way, maybe ten to fifteen minutes. If we
can hold Merrick's gang until they arrive, we will make it." He stroked his
lover's back gently, amazed that they might actually have a chance. Their
newfound hope alleviated some of the desperation they felt about their
situation, and Duncan spoke up first, his katana held out to catch the
moonlight.

"I think it's time we went on the aggressive."

Julian smiled, pleased to have these men by his side, and turned towards the
trees by the roof which would allow the Gangrel to reach them. "Cash and I will
take those who make it over from the trees. We'll disable them as best we can.
You two finish the job?" He indicated their swords and the two Immortals
smirked at each other.

"Oh, we'll be just fine." Methos winked at Cash as the two Kindred stalked
over to the edge of the roof by the trees. The first Gangrel was halfway across
the branch, suddenly unsure of himself and hesitating. Unfortunately, his
colleague behind him grew nervous at the sound of wood cracking and shoved him
unceremoniously onto the roof, then jumped on himself. Julian had taken
advantage of the surprise and uncertainty of the first one across, grabbing him
by the throat and kicking him savagely in the gut. He flung the Kindred away
from him, still holding his head and twisting it until he heard the snap,
feeling the thump under his feet as the body fell onto the roof. A flash of
sword blade and he saw just how efficient Duncan was with that katana of his.

He spared a look at Cash who had grappled slightly with the more eager
Gangrel, but his Primogen had eventually injured his opponent sufficiently to
keep him prone long enough for Methos to strike a killing blow. Quickly Julian
returned his attention to the trees; more Gangrel were attempting to make the
leap, hoping to get enough members of their gang on the roof to mob them.

The branch popped in protest again as another Gangrel leaped towards the roof,
his claws eager to rip into Julian's flesh. Happily, the branch was thin enough
to make it impossible for the larger Gangrel to make it across, and the smaller
Kindred were very little match for Julian and Cash, who both had the added
benefit of Immortal blood in their veins. Julian slammed the heel of his hand
into the temple of his latest attacker, stunning the Gangrel and bringing him
to his knees, then watched as Duncan swung his katana through the exposed neck,
his face a mask of warrior concentration.

Julian blinked, wondering not for the first time just who Duncan really was,
and decided that they were due for a long talk once they got out of this mess.
He glanced over at Methos and Cash and was surprised to see the two working in
flawless tandem. Perhaps it was the shared blood that seemed to connect the two
men, or it could have been Methos' acceptance of Cash's wild nature. Whatever
the cause, they seemed to be almost enjoying themselves, both wearing feral
grins as their bodies were sprayed with the blood of their shared enemy. The
Prince decided he was going to have to talk with Cash as well, but set his
thoughts aside as two more of Merrick's gang made the jump.

Duncan sent his blade through the neck of four more Gangrel before the tide of
eager bodies slowed. He glanced at Julian, who's eyes shone with shameless
pride at his lover. Methos stepped from his own pile of bodies, kicking a head
away from his foot and rolling his shoulders, panting slightly as he grinned at
his fellow Immortal.

"I don't know about you, but I find the lack of Quickening rather
anti-climactic."

Duncan snorted, looking over at the trees and wondering why no more Kindred
were coming over. Merrick had come around to inspect the activity on this side
of the barn and decided not to waste anymore of his dwindling gang. The fire
might take half an hour or so to consume the barn, but Julian Luna would still
die. A roaring sound suddenly blasted from the other side of the barn, catching
everyone's attention, and Merrick raced around the corner while Duncan and
Julian strode across. Methos and Cash stayed by the trees in case more Kindred
tried to gain the roof. On the opposite side, Julian took one look down and
then beamed at Cash. In the driveway between the house and the barn were
several cars and at least two dozen motorcycles. Thomas Grendal had arrived
with reinforcements! Merrick was taken completely by surprise; he had no idea
how Grendal had found out where he had holed up, and the Prince of Seacouver
had definitely known he would find him as this was no scouting party. All of
Grendel’s fighting Kindred were at Merrick's doorstep and they came to do some
serious damage.

More of Merrick's gang streamed out of the main house and engaged Grendel’s
loyal Kindred. Duncan had seen a lot of death and conflict in his four hundred
years, but never the savagery of a Kindred civil war. Limbs, guts and throats
were torn while howls of rage and pain flowed through the air like the blood at
their feet. Guns were fired, their roaring explosions echoing across the hills
and back. The fire in the barn was warming the roof alarmingly, and the heat
had exploded the small window outward, spraying the combatants with hot glass.
Duncan wrapped his arms around Julian who was shivering at the sight of the
slaughter below them. It was all too easy for Julian to imagine these were his
people as his own city had come close to this type of conflict more than once.
Merrick and Grendal had faced off in the driveway in front of the barn and
begun their battle for dominance. Since nearly all the Kindred present were
Gangrel, the warring factions instinctively kept their distance from the two
leaders, knowing that whoever won would be their Prince. Finally, the remaining
members of Merrick's gang stopped fighting, deciding to switch their loyalty to
Grendal if he should prove to be stronger. Most Kindred stood silently, the
only sounds were Grendal and Merrick's grunts and growls and the constant snap
and crackle of the burning barn.

Cash and Methos left their post and joined Duncan and Julian on the part of
the roof that did not have flames licking at the edges, the trapdoor having
already collapsed inward. Cash kept an eye on the trees anyway, while Julian
explained what was going on to Methos. The outcome of this fight would directly
determine how easily they got down off the barn. If Grendal won, there would be
no problem. If Merrick won, his gang could very well rally and continue
fighting, forcing them to fight their way off the estate. Grendel’s Kindred
would do their best to assist them, but Merrick still had enough Kindred to
make an escape far from easy. Duncan glanced at Methos nervously, and the older
Immortal nodded back at the trees. They were going to have to make a break for
it if the fight for leadership turned against Grendal.

The two Kindred were well matched; Merrick was taller, but of slighter build,
while Grendal had the advantage of impressively thick arms and a lower center
of gravity. Grendal had more experience, but Merrick was clever, beginning to
guess Grendel’s moves as the fight wore on. Both Kindred bled from multiple
gashes on their arms and faces and began to show signs of fatigue. Grendal
swiped Merrick's legs out from under him and the younger Kindred seemed to
stumble, only to come up into a fighting stance with a knife the size of a
bayonet in his grasp. Grendal quickly searched the ground, hoping to spot an
abandoned weapon as Merrick had, but there was nothing. Merrick advanced on the
old Prince, blade swinging and a merciless look of death in his eyes.

Grendal backed off, dodging Merrick's strikes and snarling his frustration.
Merrick actually began to laugh, a cold, snickering sort of sound as he toyed
with his Prince, backing his elder towards the wall of the barn. He was going
to enjoy gutting this city Kindred and dove in low to make a stab at Grendel’s
abdomen when a flash of pale white appeared at Grendel’s side, hitting the
ground with a slight thunk. Merrick's attention was diverted for a split second
before Grendal grabbed the object and, quick as thought, had wrenched it free
from the earth and swung it in an arch to meet his throat. For a shocking
moment searing pain lit Merrick from within, followed by a the surreal feeling
of being unable to control his limbs. As he smashed to his knees on the ground,
his last vision of the world was Duncan's katana, held firmly in the grip of
the victorious Prince of Seacouver.

On the roof, Julian and Methos both looked at Duncan, his hand still in midair
from dropping the sword to the ground below. The Highland Immortal was
sporting a rather smug look and Julian grinned at his lover's quick thinking,
throwing an arm around him and squeezing.

Methos shook his head, chuckling. "And here I thought you liked to stay out of
politics."

Grendal looked up at the roof of the burning barn, his own grin grateful.
"Would you care to come down and join us, Julian?"

"We'd love to, Thomas. Be right down." Julian hugged Duncan again as Grendal
shouted for ladders to be brought to the barn to help down Julian and his small
band. There was a louder crack as more of the barn roof began to give way to
the flames and the four men moved as far from the burning section as they
could. Julian took Duncan's face in his hands and kissed him soundly, then
pulled away to look deep into Duncan's eyes. "Thomas is going to love you, you
know. You'll always be protected from us, no Kindred in this city will touch
you."

Duncan gave him a sly smile, his hands warm on Julian's hip. "Maybe I'll let
one Kindred touch me, but that's all."

At last decent sized ladders were found and Cash was the last to jump to the
ground, leaving the barn to burn itself out. Some of Merrick's gang, knowing
they were going to die at the hands of their fellow Gangrel, had decided to go
down fighting and were still struggling with Grendel’s Kindred. A black sedan
pulled around and Grendal opened the door, waving for the four men to join him.
Julian drug Duncan towards the car with Cash and Methos on their heels, but as
Cash waited for the other two to get inside, he spotted the stealth bikes
sitting silent in the driveway. Methos caught his look, and wondered if the
young Kindred had the same idea he did.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Cash looked at him, a shy grin creeping across his face, pleased that he and
Methos were still operating on the same wavelength. "Wanna come with me?"

Methos smiled, his eyes narrowing and crinkling with mischief. "Right behind
you."

They dashed to the nearest black bike, Cash slamming his ass onto the seat and
kicking the bike to life as he felt Methos warm weight settle in behind him.
Julian and Grendal were both yelling at them in confusion, but Cash merely gave
them a thumbs up and let out the throttle, speeding down the driveway and away
from the carnage at the Rosemont estate. The black sedan was not far behind
them, but the bike's faster speed and ability to disappear in the dark allowed
Cash and Methos to lose the car easily once they hit the highway. Cash felt
Methos wrap his arms firmly around his waist, causing a rare fluttering in the
Kindred's stomach as they turned off the main road and onto a dark and quiet
secondary road. A wild kind of joy swept through the young Gangrel as he sped
off into the night.

* * *

His arms wrapped securely around a hard, muscled stomach, Methos clung to Cash
as the wind whipped at his cold fingers, the smell of the young Kindred's hair
and his worn leather jacket driven into his nose. The ride itself was surreal,
like flying with your eyes closed. The bike was made for stealth, the muffler
only allowed the engine to voice a rumbled purr, but it was the driving without
lights that made Methos crazy. The vampire obviously had no trouble steering by
what little light the moon provided, but for Methos, it was like standing on
the beach at midnight. You could hear the ocean, feel it's power, but you
couldn't see it. It was as disquieting as it was thrilling, and forced Methos
to clutch at Cash every time the bike shifted unexpectedly.

After a few miles, Cash left the road and climbed a small incline, finally
stopping next to a large overhang of rock. Methos' hand drifted to his sword
hilt. He knew it had been risky riding off alone with the vampire, but if he
was honest with himself, he was more comfortable facing Cash alone than with
MacLeod and Julian around. Cash killed the engine and the woods seemed to
suddenly pull in around them, smelling of wetness and growing vegetation, while
thin ribbons of moonlight filtered down on them.

Methos slowly got up off the bike. "Why are we stopping?"

Cash scanned their surroundings. "I want to see if we were followed. This rock
will give us shelter on three sides, we stand a better chance if they try an
ambush. Where are you going?"

Methos had begun walking slowly away from the bike, half out of mistrust.
"I...well, in all the excitement, what with fighting blood-thirsty maniacs,
escaping flaming death and speeding through the night in total darkness..."
Cash sat on the bike, blinking at him. Methos tilted his head, giving him a
lopsided grin. "I...have to see a man about a horse."

Cash snorted softly. "Oh...yeah, okay." Methos heard a low chuckle as he
ducked behind the rock ledge to relieve himself. Cash was right, the ledge
would serve as a fairly good fortress should they be ambushed, and Methos'
appreciation for the young Kindred went up a notch; Julian had chosen his
bodyguard well. Cash had decided to lure any pursuers they may have into going
after the more vulnerable men on the bike and leave Julian to escape with more
safety. It demonstrated a level of loyalty that surprised Methos. He also
acknowledged Cash's reluctance to feed from him, and that the young man had
appreciated how difficult it was for Methos to let him. Cash had made the
bloodletting as gentle and personal as he could manage, stroking Methos to calm
and assure him, and had not made an issue of how aroused Methos had become.
This was not the behavior the Immortal had come to associate with the vampires,
but then again, it had been centuries since he had seen any, and he had changed
as well. Merrick's attitude was more in keeping with his concept of vampires,
but he also had seen Merrick in the midst of a play for dominance.

Zipping himself back into decency, he came back around the rock and spied Cash
in the moonlight, standing stock still a few feet from the bike with his back
towards Methos. How easy it would be for Methos to pull out his sword and rid
the world of one more leech! Cash knew he carried the broadsword, yet he stood
with his back unprotected. Since Cash didn't seem the type to overlook details
like this, Methos took it for the sign of trust it was and settled himself in a
vertical sprawl against the rock. It was a deep gamble but it paid off and
after a moment, Cash sighed, walking back and leaning next to Methos, smiling
slightly.

"I don't hear anything." Cash spoke in an almost whisper. Methos nodded,
staying silent. "Doesn't mean there aren't more of them, just means we
destroyed the ones at the barn." They spent a few more minutes in complete
quiet, Methos watching Cash as he combed the surroundings with his senses,
looking like a hunting wolf. Methos wondered idly what it would be like to have
this kind of power at his command. With a sigh, Cash dug out the cell phone
Julian had used on the barn roof and phoned his Prince.

"Julian? Great, you made it. Yeah, I know-toast. Methos and I are fine. I'm
stopping to see if anyone shows up. Nothing yet. Route five to Pinewood, got
it. Meet you at Grendel's in half an hour." He pocketed the cell and gave
Methos a soft smile. "Julian and MacLeod made it to a safehouse. We can join
them soon."

Methos nodded, weirdly relieved and jumpy at the same time. "Man, I could sure
use a beer."

Cash grinned, flashing white teeth in the dimness. "Tell me about it. And none
of that piss-Light junk either..."

Methos looked sharply at Cash. "You drink beer? I thought..."

Cash snorted. "Why not? We eat and drink anything we like." He took in Methos'
confused expression. "That whole 'we don't drink wine' crap is just made up.
Most of the legends are." Part of Cash instinctively shrunk from his
confession, but the Masquerade was already blown, and there wasn't a lot any of
them could do about it. Besides, part of him really wanted Methos to not hate
him, to not be afraid. The man had already sacrificed himself this night, he
owed him at least the truth.

Methos chewed his lip, filing away new information. "But you still need to..."

Cash nodded impatiently, looking at his boots. "Yeah, we need human blood to
survive, but we only need a small amount. It's against our laws to drink until
the person dies." He could instantly tell by Methos' stiff posture that this
angered the man, but Methos' voice remained low and calm. Dangerously low and
calm.

"You seemed pretty intent on bleeding me dry." Methos' eyes had narrowed as he
watched Cash's every facial feature he could make out.

"No, see...you're blood is different." Cash said with awe in his voice,
shaking his head, frustrated with words. "I..can't explain how, but you're
different." He looked straight at Methos, trying to make himself clear. "You're
not like anyone I've ever had before. Your blood...it's like a drug. One taste
and you can't stop. Blood always carries some bad shit...impurities. But
yours...yours was like...pure light, like life, like...sex." Cash looked back
at his boots again, oddly shy suddenly. "I was glad Julian and MacLeod were
there, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to stop." He bit his lips together,
obviously ashamed at his lack of control. Methos' gaze softened as he looked at
the young man, weighing his words and glad that Cash spoke the truth, even if
it sent a shiver up his spine.

"What now? Are you addicted? Am I gonna spend the rest of my life waiting for
you to show up for another hit?"

Cash shook his head adamantly. "No. It doesn't work like that." He leveled his
gaze at Methos again, hoping the older man would see his sincerity. "As much as
the memory of it is amazing, it's not a craving that can dominate my will. But
I can't ever have you again, ever. If I did, I'd never stop." An almost pained
look came to his face. "Then I would be as bad as Merrick's gang."

"So what's to keep the others from doing what you dare not?"

Cash fumbled in his pockets, the discussion making him nervous enough to want
a cigarette. "Kindred law is very...rigid. And final. That's why we have to get
you to Thomas. He is the Prince of Seacouver, and he will decree that no one
can touch you. Ever."

Methos was pessimistic. "But there will always be rebels, like the ones who
stole MacLeod."

Cash shook his head. "Kindred don't even know you exist. They didn't steal
MacLeod because they could feed off of him, they did it because they knew
Julian was involved with him, and they wanted to send a message to Julian, and
to Thomas. Not to get any ideas about coming up here and taking over." He
paused, patting down his jacket, looking for something. "They probably just
intended to kill him."

Methos gave a cynical snort. "Oh, there's a happy thought."

Cash pulled a lone cigarette from his jacket and cupping his hands around the
tip, lit the end. "Only Merrick's Kindred know what you are capable of, which
is why they all have to die, even the ones who were not at the barn. We can't
chance that the ones who saw Duncan die and come back kept their secret from
their brothers. All of Merrick's gang were condemned the moment they bled
Duncan to death. But you and Duncan will be protected now, and going against a
Prince's wishes gets one of us a horrid, final death at the hands of friends
and family alike." Cash sighed, trying to think of a way to make Methos
understand, blowing smoke towards the sky. "Kindred society is very small, very
close. Despite our differences." He offered the lit cigarette to Methos.
"Sorry, I've only got the one. Must've lost the whole pack in the fight."

Methos took it like a peace pipe, tasting Cash on it as he did. "This your
emergency butt?"

Cash laughed softly. "Yeah." He looked at the other man, who was smirking at
him good naturedly.

"Good to be prepared."

They stood for minute in companionable silence until Cash's curiosity got the
better of him. "Can I ask you something? You seemed pretty comfortable with
that sword, cutting off heads..." Methos' lips pressed into a line, his body
communicating just how unwilling he was to discuss this. "You and MacLeod both
carry swords..." Cash looked directly into Methos' eyes. "You guys wouldn't be
"vampire hunters," now would you?"

Methos almost sighed with relief, and handed the cigarette back to Cash. "I
*have* run across your type before. Like I said, it's good to be prepared."
Cash wasn't buying it, but the determined set of Methos' face made him realize
he wasn't going to get any more info than that, so he turned his attention back
towards the primeval surroundings.

His body beginning to tense, Methos closed his eyes, waiting for the
inevitable questioning for more clarity, a further explanation of his words.
When none came, he risked a sideways look at Cash, surprised to see the Kindred
had returned to scanning the woods. Blinking, he realized Cash wasn't going to
pursue the point. It was the one thing about MacLeod that still bugged the crap
out of the old Immortal; when Mac wanted to find out something, he was like a
dog worrying a bone. He'd pick and nag and wear you down, until you either told
him what he wanted to know or cut his head off. Methos had long ago decided
that this trait was partially responsible for the Kronos incident blowing up in
their faces so spectacularly, and while he accepted that silence wasn't always
the best course, he knew it was his anger at being hounded that had made him
turn on the Highlander and throw his bloodthirsty past into his friend's face.
Joe wasn't much better, although he had long ago figured out when Methos drew a
line and when he had pushed his friend too hard.

He glanced at Cash again, watching as the young man finished the cigarette and
meticulously extinguished the embers, almost snorting at the possibility that
anything could stay alight in this dank and wet forest. He sighed softly,
turning away and looking at his own boots in thought. As much as he considered
MacLeod to be one of his closest friends, this quiet acceptance by the young
Kindred warmed Methos in deep places in his soul. Cash was probably more like
Methos than MacLeod could ever be, his past more bloody and lacking in regret
than any Immortal, and probably just as reluctant to talk about it. Perhaps
this was the thing that held the Kindred together, that kept their laws so
effective and isolated them from anyone but their fellow Kindred. They all had
violent natures and shady pasts, and they all accepted that flaw in each other.
While MacLeod was a warrior and had killed many men, he had always strived for
honor, seeking that in his companions and being hard pressed to accept flaws
such as Methos had once possessed. It afforded Methos some emotional breathing
room which he hadn't realized he had been asking MacLeod to give him since
before Bordeaux.

Methos stole another look at Cash again, noting the strong jaw and scruffy
appearance. It gave the Kindred a wild and passionate look, one Methos knew
first hand to be true. He had seen the man fight and he had felt his lips on
his neck, both experiences causing a shiver to run through him. He remembered
Cash's large hands cupping his ass, his young cock pressing into Methos' thigh
while his chest heaved under Methos' hands. The Immortal wondered though, if
Cash's reaction was in response to Methos' blood, or if there were something
more interesting going on? His eyes traveled down the young man at his side,
appraising the well muscled upper body and tight ass before gliding back to his
rather handsome face.

Blinking, he realized Cash's cheeks were reddening slightly, and even though
Cash was not looking at Methos, the Kindred was acutely aware of the intense
gaze. The elder man decided this could be an amusing evening after all, and
smiling wickedly, grasped the young man's chin to secure his attention. Methos
found he liked the feel of the semi-soft hairs tickling his palm and wondered
what they would feel like raking over the sensitive skin of his thighs. Cash's
eyes showed some confusion at first, but they caught the sparkle in the other
man's and he smiled, a somewhat wolfish looking gesture that made Methos' blood
run a little quicker.

"Uhmmmm...I think we have to go." Methos stroked Cash's chin minutely, the
regret over having to return to civilization evident in his voice and causing
their smiles to drift from their faces.

Cash nodded, his look suddenly unreadable, and stepped away from the rock,
heading for the bike. He swung a leg over and started the engine while Methos
settled in behind him as if he belonged there, adjusting his sword to keep it
free of the wheel. They returned to the road, Methos turning back many times to
see if anyone was behind them, the woods remaining quiet and blessedly free of
killer Kindred.

They reached the ribbon of moonlight that was the highway and Cash sped up,
testing the limits of the bike and Methos' nerves. Cash decided he wasn't going
to use the headlights unless he started running across traffic, hoping to avoid
detection and knowing the real reason he was doing it was because it made
Methos hang on to him tighter. That fluttery feeling was back in his midsection
and the secure feeling of being wrapped in a warm and secure embrace nearly
brought a groan to his lips. He was beginning to really like the solid body at
his back, the large hands gripping him, making him imagine what they would feel
like holding onto his naked hips. Biting his lips, he criticized himself for
letting his desire run away with him and imagining all sorts of things that
Methos didn't mean. He continued to bite his lips until he definitely felt
Methos sliding his hands inside his jacket, causing him to gasp softly, the
sound stolen by the wind in their faces but the movement of his ribcage was
felt by sensitive fingers.

Methos licked his lips and leaned towards the back of Cash's neck, pushing the
leather collar out of the way with his chin and sending his warm breath
ghosting over pale skin. The bike vibrated under his legs and the taut body in
front of him did the same, the twin sensations making Methos edge closer to his
companion rider. The minute movement caused his cock to nestle firmly between
jean-clad cheeks with just enough room between the two bodies to allow Methos
to become semi-erect, and for Cash to be aware of this. Getting no request to
stop, Methos gripped Cash around the waist with his left hand and let the other
drop down to the young man's thighs, caressing firmly along the inseam until it
reached the apex where it encountered a bulging heat. He stroked the material
and pressed his lips against the back of Cash's neck, feeling the young man
swallow convulsively. Methos couldn't help but smile, Cash was deliciously
responsive to his touch. Were all vampires like this? If this were the case,
Methos was almost ready to forgive MacLeod for taking one as a lover.

Methos cupped his right hand around Cash and very gently squeezed, chuckling
when the bike bobbled slightly. He briefly considered stopping his teasing to
avoid crashing the bike, but he was having too much fun, and taking into
account both of their natures, they would most likely survive the crash. He
nosed about until he had found Cash's ear and after warming it with his breath,
sent his tongue to glide along it's outer edges, feeling Cash's chest vibrate
with a moan. Sliding his fingers gently under Cash's crotch, he palmed the
heavy sac of cloth, running his thumb up and down the firming flesh. Anchored
by Cash's erection, he loosened his grip around Cash's middle and groped under
his jacket for nipples, chuckling deeply when he came across them.

Cash moaned again, his mind fracturing as fingers rubbed and pinched his now
sensitive nipples while a hand held his cock possessively and that deep, sexy
chuckle floated into his ear and made a beeline for his prick. As an
afterthought, he tried to keep his attention focused on the road, which was
happily deserted at this hour. He was panting freely now, Methos energetically
working on a hickey at his neck while simultaneously opening his zipper with
his free hand. Cash felt pinned, forced to keep his body still to control the
bike while Methos seemed to have his hands everywhere, determined to drive Cash
crazy. Shudders ripped through Cash as Methos freed his erection at last, the
warmth of his hand alternating with the shocking cold of the wind and Cash's
legs began to tremble. The bike began to slow, more because Cash was forgetting
to give it gas, but the Kindred decided it was just as well as Methos began to
roughly stroke him, making him arch back into the Immortal's arms and groan as
Methos spread his own wetness over his shaft. He steered the bike into a
parking lot of a closed gas station and let it stop, flopping his head back
against Methos' shoulder and reaching around to grab Methos' flank. His
frequent arguments with Sasha had left Cash without a lover's touch for quite a
long time, and he was drowning in the feel of the firm grip working him to a
fevered pitch, his groans intermingling with whines that pleaded for more.

The feeling of Methos' hard cock at his back and the trembling in the thigh in
his hands connected Cash to the Undying man, assuring him that he wasn't
dreaming, and the firm stroking urging him to howl loudly as he began to come.
His body was wracked with pleasure again and again as his cock quickly filled
Methos' hand with evidence of his sexual excitement. What Methos missed
spattered onto the bike, but Cash couldn't have cared. He floated back down
slowly to earth, happy that Methos cradled his body to keep it from pitching
off the bike. A shrill noise sounded from his jacket and Cash was glad Methos
went digging for it as he had yet to regain the coordinated use of his hands.

"Hello?" Cash felt the vibration of that deep voice at his back, smiling
slightly as his breathing slowed, content to listen to that sexy bass all
night. "No, no we're fine. We had to...stop at a gas station." Cash snorted at
his wily companion's almost-lie. "Yes. Oh, and Julian? Please tell Mac to stop
worrying. Thanks." Methos returned the phone to Cash's jacket while Cash
scooted down further on the bike until his head lay in Methos' lap. He grinned
up at Methos and reached up to run a gentle hand along Methos' face.

"That was...uhm...thanks. Wild. Listen...do you want...? He tried to feel
Methos' erection at the back of his head, but it had gone down considerably.
Methos smiled at the question in Cash's eyes.

"That's okay, I'll keep. We'd better get back to Mac and Julian before they
send a posse out for us."

"Are you sure?" Cash sat up, still looking back at Methos, quite willing to
reciprocate.

Methos' smile deepened. "Yeah. Catch me next time."

As much as Methos wanted Cash's mouth on him, he felt vulnerable along the
deserted stretch of road, especially if any of the Kindred had indeed followed
them. Cash put himself back together and then twisted around to take Methos'
lips with his own. Methos closed his eyes, enjoying the hot mouth and energetic
tongue that danced with his. Then Cash pulled away, taking Methos' arms and
wrapping them around himself again, a gesture which made Methos want to kiss
him all over, but they needed to get to the safehouse. With some regret, Methos
realized that once they did, the vampires and the Immortals would most likely
be parting ways and considering the violent lifestyles they both lead, he might
never get to let Cash pay him back. Sighing, he looked up the street, wondering
how long he would get to hold Cash in his arms.

"How far are we?"

Cash looked up and down the highway, then jerked a thumb behind them. "I
dunno, really. I missed the turn back there."

This struck Methos as hysterical and he burst into laughter, his mirth
infecting Cash who began to chuckle. Methos couldn't seem to stop and he
recognized it for the release of tension it was. They finally wound down and
Cash gunned the bike to life, turning expertly around and heading back down the
highway. Cash turned on the lights this time and found the secondary road he
was looking for. A few miles and a few turns later and they were pulling into
the drive of Thomas Grendel’s home.