When the Tippith Demon set me down again, about thirty minutes had passed and I was still frozen. I hoped Willow and the others were okay. I knew that Willow was probably scared over being frozen. I certainly knew that I didn't like it.

Out of the corner of either of my eyes, I saw another Tippith set a revived Amanda down. I also saw Methos and Marc surrounded by several Pithia Demons. I frowned, or would have frowned if I wasn't frozen, as I remembered Giles, the older one than the one currently in Sunnydale, one that died two thousand years ago in Greece, had mentioned something. He told me that Pithia Demons knew how to teleport. That explained how the Methos and Marc had gotten to the Hellmouth so quickly.

"Alex! Amanda!" Marc said when he realized the Buzz of approaching Immortals came from us. He took a step in our direction before two Pithia Demons grabbed him by the arms. I couldn't really see him very well since I wasn't pointed in his direction, but I knew that Marc would really resent being held still.

"What's happened to him?" Methos asked Amanda.

"Tippith Demons froze him. I don't know if he's even aware that we're in here."

Oh, I definitely was aware. Not that I could tell her that, frozen like I was. Boy, this was getting irritating.

"He's aware," a new voice announced from behind the crowd of demons. I watched, having little choice in the matter, as the crowd parted directly in front of me to reveal the reason why we were here.

Inwardly, I was staring. Okay, I was staring anyway, but what I saw made me go into shock. I was pretty sure Methos and Amanda had the same reaction. Marc wouldn't know this man, of course, but it didn't really matter.

My heart was beating loudly in my chest. Damnit, but I hoped that whatever he had planned, it wouldn't be like last time.

He held a hand out toward my body and spoke a few words in Latin, which roughly translated meant, "Unfreeze and return."

The paralysis holding my body broke. I stumbled slightly before two of the Tippith Demons behind me grabbed onto my arms and held me upright. I glanced around at my friends, then, attempting to hide my panic, I sent a glare at our common nemesis.

"Jake Melville," Methos said, his voice coming out hard, and no wonder; we didn't like him one bit. I doubted I could have managed that calm voice at the moment, but the old man's had a lot more experience with that than me.

There's actually two ways for an Immortal to die, not one. If I lost my Quickening, magically or through decapitation, I would die permanently. No Immortal can survive without a Quickening inside him or her. The first way for us to lose a Quickening is by losing our heads. That's the more popular way to kill us. The other way is through magic. Melville, an ex-Watcher who liked gaining power and knew a little magic, was aware of the second way to kill us. He'd kidnap an Immortal and perform a ritual that transferred the power of an Immortal's Quickening to him. It was the only way that a mortal could get a Quickening. By the time the ritual was over, the Immortal would be dead.

Back in the 70's, Melville kidnapped me. He was performing the ritual on me, and it almost killed me when Methos burst into the room, sent a round of bullets into Melville's chest, and got me to someplace safe where I could heal. Unfortunately, someone saw Methos and I leave the scene and Methos was arrested for murder. Thankfully, Amanda provided an alibi for the old man, and the two of them ended up nursing me back to health.

Amanda, Methos, and I were convinced that Melville had died twenty-three years ago. To my shock and fear, though, it looked like he survived.

The tall, fifty-something man smiled in satisfaction. "So you remember me. I was beginning to worry that I hadn't made an impression. I thought you'd forgotten. I mean, exactly how many enemies do the three of you have in common, anyway? And exactly how many of them could still be alive?"

"You're supposed to be dead," I stated, my voice filled with anger.

"Yes, and that's what magically inclined friends are for. I was shot, they helped heal me," he said. "I've done a lot in the last twenty-three years. Helped out a few covens, hired a few demons." He motioned at the crowd surrounding us. "Ones that could do jobs in places with humans," he nodded at the Tippith Demons, then motioned at the Pithias, "and ones that could do jobs in places that no human has ever traveled to."

"Then a few years ago, one of my contacts in the Watchers asked me to join this renegade group that he was starting. He knew that I was against a few Immortals," he grinned at us, "and said that if I helped him kill a few in the Paris area, he'd tell me where Alex LaVelle and Amanda were. He didn't know about your situation, Peirson, but I happened to be flipping through a list of Watchers that could be possible recruits and saw you."

Methos scowled when he heard that, insulted that Horton would even have considered recruiting him.

"And here we are, together again," Melville said, grinning. "And this time, I believe I have the upper hand." He turned to his hired help and spoke in a demonic language I didn't know.

Suddenly, a space was cleared in the middle of the floor to reveal a symbol I never wanted to see again. It was part of the requirements for the Quickening-transfer ritual. Damnit and it looked like I was going to be the first victim. Methos, Amanda, and Marc were being pulled to the far end of the room and tossed against the wall. Before they could do anything, like run away and get help or fight back, Melville spoke some more words in Latin and a green barrier appeared, trapping my Immortal friends in the corner of the room. I figured that the barrier would prevent any of them from getting my Quickening as well as escaping.

I tired to struggle, but I was no match for the strength of my Tippith escorts. I could fell my heart beating loudly in my chest. I did not want to go through this again. I was anywhere but there. They tied my arms behind my back and secured them to a pole in the center of the large room. The pole was in the middle of the symbol, which was a character in a language I didn't know. I watched as a special, enchanted jar was placed a few feet away from me. I knew that the jar would be used to collect my Quickening, and then Melville would break the jar and the Quickening would enter any mortal being who was standing within the symbol, which would without a doubt be Melville.

I swallowed and tried to stay calm. Panicking wasn't going to help my situation, although it felt like that was I all I could do. Bloody hell. Why didn't we think about Melville? Why didn't we make sure that Melville was dead back in 1976? Methos had been so sure that he'd killed the SOB. Hell, the police had been certain of it, too.

I wish we'd considered him to be a possibility anyway. But damnit, how could I have? I'd collected so many enemies, in Buffy's company and out of it, in the past century that I had trouble keeping track of them.

As Melville approached me with the same enchanted dagger he used twenty-three years ago, I wondered if there would be an escape this time. Amanda, Methos, and Marc couldn't help rescue me this time, and the gang and the Angel Investigations crew hadn't shown up yet. I hoped they'd make it in the nick of time like so many other moments in the past three years.

Melville whispered words in Latin. His voice was too low for me to follow. He circled around me once before coming to a halt directly behind me. I heard him raise the dagger to my back and cut a line down the middle of my shirt. The fabric fell away, and I could feel the air blow against my bare skin. The next part, I knew, was going to hurt.

Melville sliced through the skin on my back. I bit back a scream at the pain. I could feel him slice down to my ribs and spine. He carved an X pattern that covered my entire back. My breath came in pants now as I felt something liquid, blood, run down my back. I was getting lightheaded from bloodloss, and it didn't help that my heart was pounding loudly in my ears. It almost covered the screams coming from my friends.

A mantra decided to join the chaotic moment. I repeated it over and over in my mind. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't wanna die. I don’t wanna die.

I fought off unconsciousness and watched as Melville backed away from me, out of the way of the blood that was pooling around me.

It hurt. It hurt so much. I didn't feel so good anymore. I'd be dead soon from bloodloss, and then Melville would take my Quickening before I could even revive. Damnit, this was not fair. Was this how it was going to end? Did my younger and older selves merge only to be killed permanently only two days later? Damnit, if the Powers That Be planned this, I was really looking forward to letting them know how I felt when I saw them.

Melville raised his hands to the sky and chanted some more. Thunder shook the building.

A single bolt from my Quickening soared out of my chest and into the enchanted jar only a few feet away. I gasped at the pain and pleasure the bolt caused. More of the purplish-blue bolts left me and entered the jar. The jar didn’t even crack. Stray bolts hit the ceiling, sending plaster crashing down all around me. The bolts did not, however, strike anywhere outside the symbol.

I could feel myself grow weaker and weaker as more of my Quickening, my soul, left my body. My blood no longer flowed out of my back, but the cuts had only gotten halfway through healing before the first bolt left me. But since my own soul was being ripped away from me, piece by piece, I knew I wouldn't last much longer. I couldn't even kneel upright anymore. I felt so tired, and I just wanted the pain to end.

"SUBSISTO!"

The Latin word rang out through the room, grabbing my weakening attention. That sounded like Willow's voice, and it sounded like she'd just shouted 'halt.'

It seemed to work. No more bolts left my body for the jar, and I sagged against the pole in relief, not even feeling any pain from the wounds on my back, although I probably would in a minute.

Angry, Melville cast a second green barrier that encompassed the symbol, the jar, and me. He then turned to face the new threat. So did his demons.

Peering through the green field now separating me from everyone else, I could see several welcoming faces enter the room. Hail, hail, the gang's all here, my lightheaded mind said, making me smile a little dumbly.

Then an all-out battle began between the two demon breeds and my friends, and I finally passed out.

*****

"Xander? Xander, we need you to wake up!"

"We really need you right now, Teach. Can you hear me?"

God, I felt awful. Who the hell was trying to talk to me, anyway? Couldn't they come back later?

"By the gods, Alex, get your thick-headed Roman brain working again right now!"

Okay, that got my attention. If anything could, Methos' annoying comments would definitely do the trick. I opened my eyes. I felt a good deal better than before, but I still felt so very weak. Last time, it took my over a year to regain my strength. I wondered how long I would need this time.

I was slouched over on the ground. My hands were still tied behind my back, but the pole that held me had been split in two. The two wounds on my back hadn't completely sealed up. I could feel pain radiating from them, but they weren't bleeding anymore. I felt really, really tired. Just lifting my head to look around me felt like a big accomplishment. From what I could see, the green barrier still surrounded the jar and me. Methos held Melville by the throat with the sacrificial dagger. Amanda, Marc, Angel, Oz, and Doyle kept sending the mortal warlock glares whenever they weren't giving me concerned yet urgent looks, while Willow, Cordelia, and Buffy circled around Methos and Melville, murder written clearly on their faces.

"We need you ta break the jar, man," Doyle said. "Can ya do that?"

"I know it's a lot to ask, Alex," Amanda said. "I know how weak you must feel right now. But you need to do it, or we won't be able to get to you."

"You can do it, Xander," Willow encouraged me.

"I'll try," I said. I wasn't making any promises.

The jar looked like it was a long way off. I crawled toward it, moving slowly. I could feel sweat fall down my forehead and I was pretty sure that my back wounds had opened up again. Boy, I must have been a sight to see, covered in blood and sweat. I was panting by the time I reached the jar.

I remembered fighting Sunday's goons only two days ago. Who knew that would lead to this? Me, re-experiencing a bad moment in my past, with my Immortal friends, my Sunnydale friends, and the LA gang fighting side-by-side. I'd imagined that fighting side-by-side bit happening a few times over the last few years, ever since Doyle told me about the merging for the first time back in 1996. I'd hoped I'd get a chance to introduce them, but I never expected this to happen. I guess I should have. This sort of thing was practically normal in the daily life of the eighteen-year-old Xander Harris, but for Alex LaVelle those instances took place at least every few months or every few years. And again, it feels weird talking about myself, both of them, in the third person. I should probably stop doing it.

"You have to crush the jar, Xander," Giles was saying.

Damnit, Watcher. G-Man. I was so weak that crawling a few feet felt like I'd run from the north end of the California to the south end without any breathers. And now he expected me to do something else? Still, if I wanted to get out of here, which I really, really did, and if I wanted to prevent Melville from getting my Quickening, which would also be a great thing to prevent, I had to crush this thing that was right in front of my nose.

So I raised a fist and brought it down as hard as I could manage onto the jar. It wasn't very fast or very hard, but the jar surprised me. I guess it was really fragile or something, because it collapsed without that much effort on my part. That was a really, really good thing.

A small mist, the part of my Quickening that Melville managed to take, rose from the shards and into me. It healed the cuts on my back, but didn't do much for my strength. That would take a while to return. Last time it took almost thirteen months. I hoped that this time would be different.

I dropped back onto the floor in relief. The green barrier separating me from the rest of the world disappeared. A lot of my friends rushed to help me up, and I ended up being supported by Angel on one side and Buffy on the other.

Melville was renewing his struggles, but Methos held on to him. Melville began to utter a spell, but Methos beat him to it by head-butting him unconscious.

"Get Xander out of here," Methos instructed the people surrounding me. To Amanda, he said, "I'll call you for the address."

"And just wha' do ya plan ta do with him?" Doyle asked, nodding toward Melville's sleeping form.

I knew the answer to that one, although I doubted that I could have formed a coherent sentence right about then. The truth was, Doyle wouldn't want to know. I doubted that Willow, Buffy, Oz, Giles, Cordy, and even Angel would want to know the answer, either.

"Let's just get Alex out of here," Amanda told them.

*****

Methos caught up to us at Giles' apartment about a half an hour later. Buffy asked him what happened to Melville, but Methos didn't answer. He talked to Amanda and Marc for a few minutes before he came up to Giles' bedroom to see me. I asked him, in Latin, if Melville was dead. Methos said yes. That was good enough for me, but I knew better than to tell the gang that.

I fell asleep at one point, and when I woke up again, I didn't feel any better.

A day or so later, I was moved to my new apartment, where my friends took turns sitting me. We moved all of my stuff into the new place, although they did most of the work. They wouldn't let me do much. I doubted I could have. I didn't really like it, but there was nothing I could do about it while I was so weak.

Melville was finally dead, and I was still alive. It was good enough reason to celebrate, so we did. After everything was in my new apartment, we threw a party. The day afterwards, Doyle had a Vision so he, Cordy, and Angel had to head back to Los Angeles. Amanda had to get back to her life with Nick Wolfe, her Pre-Immortal boyfriend, so she also left. Marc and Methos were going to stay until I got better, though. Life pretty much returned to normal, and everything stayed quiet. For awhile.

In Sunnydale, however, peace and quiet never lasted for long. Methos and Marc had no idea would they were getting themselves into. They would find out soon enough.

The night after the party, Methos, Marc, and I were just sitting around my living room, talking about recent events. "So what was it like?"

"What was what like?" I asked.

"The merging. What's it like having the memories of a teenager added to the complicated mess already in that brain of yours?"

"What, it's not like I didn't have those memories before, Methos," I reminded him, shooting him a glare. "Those memories of being a teenager, living a dangerous life in Sunnydale…they used to be muddled somewhat, dimmer. They were two thousand years old, after all. You know what I mean. That was before I ceased to exist five months ago. Now that I'm alive again, I still have that dim recollection, but I also have clearer copies of the same memories, courtesy of my younger self." I shook my head. "The dimmer and clearer Sunnydale memories are getting mixed together, though. I'm the product of both of them now." I shrugged. "We've merged."

"Freaky," Marc said. Methos and I both sent him amused looks. He gave us an exasperated look. "What, you think I can't keep up with Modern English slang words in Egypt?"

"No, it's the fact that you actually used a slang word that is scary," I informed him, grinning.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, Teach," he said, rolling his eyes.

"So, what are your plans now, Alex?" Methos asked me. "After your strength returns, I mean."

"I'm going to stay here for awhile," I said. "Lots of vampires and demons to fight here on the Hellmouth."

"Well, if you think I'm staying to help, forget it," Methos informed me. "I'm staying here until you're healed and then I'm out of here."

I smirked. "You really don't know what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" Marc and Methos stared at me, uncomprehending. "Did you guys think that what Melville did was something abnormal in this town? We'll have to deal with a new evil soon, I guarantee it."

"How soon?" Marc asked.

"Next Monday is my guess."

"But that's two days away!" Marc exclaimed, and I nodded. "Do you ever get to relax in this town?"

"Sure we do…for a few hours." I shook my head at them disapprovingly. "Why do you think Amanda left so quickly? She did her homework."

Methos groaned and buried his head in his hands. Marc did the same.

I snickered. Boy, if neither of them left now, they would be in for quite a ride.