10 INCIDENTS THAT METHOS WISHES HAD HAPPENED TO SOMEONE ELSE
DANIELLE FRANCES DUCREST

Disclaimers: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer Productions, Gaumont Télévision and Rhyser Entertainment. All the others shows, characters, and concepts used in this fan fiction belong to people other than me. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers: There are general spoilers for everything. For Sabrina, there are more specific spoilers for that TGIF four-show crossover event where Salem swallows a time ball and visits the sets of Teen Angel, You Wish, and Boy Meets World and causes each show to revert to a previous decade in history. There are spoilers for the second Spider-man movie and for the Stargate SG-1 ep. 'Sight Unseen'.

Timing:

Buffy (Season Three)

Sabrina the Teenage Witch (Whenever that time ball episode was)

Spider-Man II (During the second movie)

Evolution (During the movie)

Stargate SG-1 (S6 ep. 'Sight Unseen')

Summary: Poor Methos…

Methos was abruptly yanked off his feet and pushed face-first into the cement. Before he could even say, "Oomph!" his rescuer was up and running down the sidewalk.

Methos glanced up at the support beam swinging low above him. It would have hit him if that guy hadn't knocked him over. That would have hurt like hell.

He watched his savior push a woman out of the way of an approaching car. It would seem that he did this sort of thing often.

The car swerved and headed straight for the oldest man.

Methos really wished he'd stayed in Seacouver.

Methos couldn't believe he'd been shot, and he was wearing his favorite sweater. Some kid had been the target and he'd gotten caught in the crossfire.

He saw spots swim in his eyes. The kid was still there. He'd probably see Methos re-awaken. How did he get himself into these messes?

"I'm so sorry," the kid said.

He placed a hand on Methos' chest. His hand began to glow.

Methos looked through the hole in his sweater at the wound…and found unbroken skin underneath.

He stared at the kid, jaw open wide. The mortal had just healed him!

"Stupid prophecies."

"Stupid Hitchi Demons."

"Idiotic Slayer and her pals."

"And one dumbass Highlander to boot!"

Methos finally broke the lock on the door. He removed the broken bits and swung the door open.

Duncan MacLeod and Sunnydale's Scooby Gang gazed out at him guiltily as he glared at them all. "Well?" he demanded.

MacLeod looked like he would rather have been decapitated on the spot. "You were right. It was a trap."

"And?"

Giles sighed. "And…we'll listen to you next time."

"Good." Methos turned, tossed the axe away, and stomped back to his car.

"Coming through! Watch it!" The indignant voice came from the black cat Methos almost stepped on.

"Oh, no!" Methos had had enough. He'd been to Chicago, Roswell, and Sunnydale, and had put up with enough in those cities. He wasn't putting up with a talking cat that was trying to get into Joe's! Not in Seacouver, haven from the supernatural and otherworldly!

He scooped up the cat. "Go back to your masters!" He tossed the cat out the door.

"Hey!" Salem protested. "I was going to pay for my drinks…somehow."

As the cat left Methos' hands, the scene changed around him. Methos turned and stared into the bar. The interior of Joe's Bar now resembled a tavern…from the eighteenth century.

Methos whirled around and glared down at the cat standing on the stoop. "You swallowed a time ball! You idiot!"

"Uh-oh!" Salem turned tail and ran for it.

He'd heard the stories, but he'd come anyway. One would think he'd learned better by now. Methos really, really should have stayed far away from New York.

At least Spiderman had saved him from splattering on the ground when he'd fallen from the train. Where the hell had that six-armed man come from, though? And what was it with the good guys saving him lately?

The question in his mind with the most priority was: How did he get down from this webbing that served as his net?

He really needed to pee.

At least it was the right century.

Methos wondered if he was hallucinating when he looked up to see a blue telephone booth appear out of nowhere. Methos had just taken a pretty strong Quickening, after all; he hadn't processed it completely yet. Besides that, it was Paris. There weren't any London-style phone booths, blue ones or not, in Paris. Especially not in an out-of-the-way alley now littered with a corpse.

The booth's door opened. A man stepped out. "Why, my goodness! What happened here?"

Methos glanced to his left at the decapitated body of his opponent. He closed his eyes and groaned.

He'd been to California and met the Slayer. He'd been to New Mexico and met the Roswell Aliens. He should have known Arizona wouldn't be any better.

He'd left the airport without trouble. He'd gotten the keys to the rental car without incident. He'd driven out of the parking garage and onto the highway with nary a problem.

And then a blue-skinned, winged, alien creature had dropped out of the sky, crushing the car and Methos beneath its weight. It had died from oxygen inhalation.

"Fuck," Methos said hours later when he woke up in a drawer in a morgue.

Epidemic, my ass, Methos thought. The 'creatures' everyone in Colorado Springs had suddenly been able to see were Thistles, according to the folklore book he'd found at the library. They were harmless and usually invisible considering they lived on another plane.

He, also known as Adam Pierson, had come to Colorado Springs claiming to have found a lead on where Methos was. He should have known by now that something weird would happen to him, just like it did on every other trip he'd taken lately.

A car swerved in the lane next to him. The driver, terrified by the sight of a Thistle on his windshield, jerked the wheel. The car headed directly toward Methos' car.

Methos was really getting fed up with automobiles.

He wished he'd tried harder to get out of this assignment. After the quarantine had lifted in Colorado Springs, Methos had been eager to get out of dodge as soon as possible. Too bad the Watcher Tribune had other plans. There were rumors of an Immortal in Smallville, Kansas. Methos was the closest Watcher to Smallville. Researcher or not, Methos was being sent to check it out.

What he found wasn't an Immortal, but a teenage boy with the ability to move really fast, lift very heavy objects, and not get hurt.

At least Methos hadn't gotten killed this time.

Two by two, hands of blue…

He could hear them coming. The agents made little noise, but the screams of whoever stood in their way were impossible to ignore.

They were after him. They knew what he was. He knew it would be really bad for his kind if the agents captured him again. He had to keep running.

He heard more people scream and felt like sobbing. The people that had sworn to hold off the agents for as long as they could while he made his escape had just fallen victim to the agent's brain frying devices. They were Watchers, sworn to keep the secret of Immortals a secret no matter what it took. They upheld that oath with their lives.

He saw the ship now. Its crewmembers rushed forward to help him along. One of them was Shepherd Book, the Watcher liaison who'd convinced his captain to provide Methos sanctuary.

Methos felt like collapsing with relief after they entered the cargo hold of the ship and he felt the ship leave the ground. He felt exhausted and weak from the torture the agents had subjected him to. He thought of the friends he'd lost and began to sob.

Book patted his back and made soothing noises. "Just let it all out, son. You're safe now."

And he did. He cried as he felt the ship rock and shake as it dodged and maneuvered out of range of the Alliance ships pursuing them. He was safe…for now.

Danielle's Bookshelf | Crossover Index