Title: A New Beginning
Summary: After dying in Not Fade Away, Wesley reawakens to a new life
Warnings: Crossover: Highlander, character death...sort of, not permanent death
Notes: A cross between two of my fave fandoms and what I've wanted to see happen ever since watching NFA. The ex-Watcher finds the shoe on the other foot for a change when he becomes immortal. There may be sequels later on, but it'll take me a while.
Disclaimer: I don't own the chars, I just borrow them and then return them unharmed to their world for someone else to use.
Wesley didn't feel pain or fear or anything anymore as the darkness surrounded him. There was only the blackness overcoming him, engulfing him, plunging him into an empty void of nothingness.
His body now lay seemingly lifeless, but deep inside, great changes started to take place and a long-latent gift began to flower, to emerge, to show itself in him. Energy arced through his form, crackling, shifting, and flowing like tiny bolts of a miniature lighting storm. Damaged organs and blood vessels repaired themselves as torn muscle and flesh began to mend and heal, slowly at first, then faster, until no sign of injury could be seen at all.
Heart muscle fibers quivered, trembled, the organ began to beat. Lungs cried out for oxygen and took it into themselves in one deep, sharp, gasping intake of breath as his eyes snapped open and he was plunged into awareness once again. Once again he was aware, awake...alive. He wondered if this was some trick of Vail's, designed to torment and torture him instead of just letting him die. But no, He could see Vail lying dead nearby, his body intact but his head shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Illyria he thought. She had finished what he had started, but had died trying to complete.
Slowly, he sat up and looked down at himself. The tear in his clothing was still there and as he lifted his shirt, he saw blood still spattered on his stomach. But where there should have been a gaping hole, there was nothing now except smooth, healthy, undamaged skin. Slowly, realization dawned; lessons learned long ago in the Watcher academy replayed themselves in his mind.
It was a different branch of Watchers who dedicated themselves to studying and recording the lives of immortals, but he had still been taught of their existence, had studied about them as a matter of principle, of learing about every aspect of the organization he worked for. How ironic then, that the former Watcher would now soon be the watched, assigned his own Watcher to chronicle his life.
He struggled to his feet, looked around the room, found himself a sword that had been Vail's. He hefted it, testing it, swinging it. He knew that now, his life would depend on his ability to use a weapon like this, to fight with it, to kill with it. Curious, he ran the blade across his palm, making a tiny cut. Bluish lighting-like energy arced over and through the wound, crackling and sizzling, and in an instant, the wound was gone.
He had been given a rare gift, a genetic anomaly present in only a few humans born into every generation. But until they died, they never knew what they were. The immortality would always lay latent until the person died a violent death and triggered it. Now, the only way he could die permanently is if his head were separated from his shoulders. He felt almost revitalized, energized as the power of the Quickening he now possessed flowed within him. If he got near another immortal, this would allow him to sense them, and if he died, the victor would absorb this power and knowledge from him.
No one really knew the origins of these immortals, whether it was a natural mutation, something mystical, some vestige of some ancient blood mixing, or what. They knew only that the battle of immortal against immortal would go on until only a few remained. Then would come the time of the Gathering, when the last few would battle until only one remained standing. With all the power and knowledge of the previous immortals inside him, the winner would rule mankind for all eternity. It was unclear whether this was true, really, or simply legend, but what was certain was that other immortals would seek him out now to try and take his head and gain his power.
I cannot die unless I lose my head, and with it my power and knowledge.
Moving quickly, he made his way out of Vail's lair, heading for the alleyway where Angel and the others now fought for their very lives. He felt stronger now, less afraid. The demons could wound him, even temporarily kill him, but unless they beheaded him he would die forever, but would keep coming back to life.
He could see as he got close that the battle was surprisingly, nearly at its end. Buffy had arrived with a legion of slayers, and most of the demons were either dead, or beginning a hasty retreat. Angel, Spike and Illyria all still lived, and Gunn was apparently in the process of being healed by Willow and her magick.
"Wesley" Illyria called out, surprised to see him alive. Others looked at him in surprise and shock "You...You were dead, I saw you die."
"It's a long story. Something that a few humans in every generation are gifted with, that activates only when they die a violent death. Now, I will never die or even grow old, Illyria. Unless my head is severed from my body, I am basically immortal."
"This is strange...I can feel power within you." She said.
"The Quickening. Helps us sense other immortals and if one of them kills me, they will absorb this power. But I'm not planning for that to happen anytime soon."
"How come you always get all the good luck, English?" Gunn asked.
"No one really knows if there's any rhyme or reason to this, why someone gets it and another doesn't." Wes explained. "And I must say it's good to see that all of us are still alive and in one piece."
Angel and Buffy and the others began to talk over joining the teams together and who would have what job and who would go where. Wesley agreed to what was very similar to his old Watcher capacity, helping out with Slayers and taking part in the training himself so that he could stay in good shape for battle. He knew that eventually the day would come when he would have to move on and leave this life behind, as all immortals did at one point or another. He might be able to stay longer, as his friends were all aware of supernatural things and strange phenomena and why he wouldn't seem to age, but that wouldn't last forever.
He knew the day would come when they were all gone and he was forced to start over from scratch, but there was one small comfort. Many times, people did not know how to handle newfound immortality and having to leave friends and family. But for Wesley Wyndham-Price, the life he was just beginning was not all that much different from the life he had just left behind. And he would still fight the good fight, not only against supernatural evil as he was used to, but against evil immortals that would win the Prize and plunge mankind into an everlasting darkness.
In the end, there can be only one
It may not be me he thought, but as long as I'm alive and fighting, I'll not allow the forces of evil to win the battle and dominate mankind, whether they be vampires, demons, or immortals. I'll keep fighting the good fight until the very end