Houseguests

"I don't get it," Duncan said, watching Alex's antics. "Why is he so…" he trailed off, unable to think of a word.

"Most Immortals have at least one period of strangeness – maybe even insanity – if they live long enough," Joe said.

Methos snorted. "Alex hit that period before I met him, and he hasn't returned to sanity yet."

"When did you two meet?" Joe asked, including Alex as he walked over to them. He was excited to be learning new information about the usually taciturn Methos's life, even if the Immortal would probably kill him if he included it in his report to the Watchers.

"Bronze age," Alex said, as if he hadn't just told them that he was one of the oldest living immortals. "At least, I assume it was the bronze age, what with all the bronze weapons." Methos nodded in agreement, taking a swig of his beer.

"Bronze age?" Duncan asked. "Isn't that when…" He trailed off, unsure of whether Alex knew about the Four Horsemen.

Methos got a horrified expression on his face and started drinking faster, which Duncan assumed was either because of the memories or because he'd almost let the secret slip, until Alex spoke. "Technically speaking, but we met before he had his little teenage rebellion." Duncan and Joe both choked and had reason to be glad they hadn't been drinking at that moment so nothing came out of their noses. Apparently bored with the subject, Alex changed the subject. "So, you've got a spare room or a couch or something, right?"

"Yes," Methos said resignedly. "I suppose you want my spare room?"

"It's not like I can find anywhere else with a yard on such short notice," Alex told him.

"A yard? Why would you want a…" Horrified realization dawned on Methos's face. "No! I am not going to have your…Hell-cats in my house! I had enough of them the last time I saw you."

"Hey! What did I tell you about calling them Hell-cats?" Alex snarled, slamming a previously-unnoticed knife point-first into the table in front of Methos.

"Fine, I won't call them…" He didn't finish the sentence when he saw Xander's eye narrow. "But they can't come in the house, and that's final."

"Okay," Alex said, suddenly cheerful again. "I planned for them to stay in the yard anyway." He walked off whistling, vanishing the knife through some sleight of hand. When the door closed behind him, the only sign that he had ever been there were a deep gouge in the table and Methos, still groaning over having fallen for that.