Disclaimers: I own every last character in this story I came up with the idea of immortals a long time ago, this is a totally original fic. . . heh heh heh, bet you weren't expecting that. Okay so I'll fess up, not mine, none of it, except for the story itself, that's mine.

Author's Note: I am a member of the clan of denial, just so you know. So Richie never died, and has gone on happily living the life of the eternal bachelor immortal that he is for the past hundred or so years, where the story picks up.

GENERATION DIVIDE

Richie rolled over and turned off his alarm with a groan, nearly squishing the Jack Russell Terrier lying beside him. "Move it, Fritz." He hated Mondays and had for over a hundred years. What exactly has possessed him at the time he accepted his current job, he didn't know. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

"Blah. . ." he announced to the darkness for lack of a better word. "Why do I subject myself to this week after week?" he asked the German Shepherd that jumped onto his bed scratching it behind it's ears. The dog smiled and licked his face. Richie laughed, "Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me."

He got out of the comfort of his nice warm bed and rummaged through his dirty clothes finding his least smelly T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. "Maybe I should do the laundry," he mumbled as he got dressed. He sighed and began to search for his sneakers.

"Where'd you put 'em, Hans?" he asked the dog as it crawled under the bed trying to figure out what fun new game Richie had come up with that required being there. Richie wiggled back into the open and looked around the messy room. "Hans! Where are the shoes? Where are they boy? Go find 'em!" The dog happily bounced in front of him, still trying to learn the rules of this new game. "Where are they?" Richie asked again. Hans started spinning in circles trying to smell his own butt. "They better not be there," Richie smiled, no matter how long he had had Hans it never ceased to make him laugh when the dog interrupted whatever he was doing for the simple pleasure of smelling himself. "Ah-ha!" He spotted a shoelace sticking out from under the dresser.

After eating breakfast the three set out on their morning run around the neighborhood lake, with Hans in the lead, Fritz tagging along in the back and Richie in the middle. Richie nearly tripped over his own feet and dog the leashes as he passed a young woman running the opposite direction. 'Ah spring,' he thought happily. 'Season of short shorts and spots bras.' By the time they made it back home it was 6:15. "Always late," he grumbled pulling off his shirt as he went upstairs to take a shower.

Such was his morning routine, no matter how early he got up he was always late when he got home from running. But no matter how late he was getting home he was always on time for work, usually early. This was a habit he picked up from years of working for Duncan. If he was late, which he often was, it resulted in physical labor or an extra long work out. Such was not the case now, but at least he had developed a good habit.

. . . . . .

Richie whistled a tune as he strutted down the hall. Something about the building brought out the kid in him. Maybe it was because he had spent so much time there when he was a kid, but for some reason when he was alone in the halls he lapsed into a cocky strut he hadn't used since he had been a student at South Seacouver High.

He unlocked his classroom door and turned on the lights before grabbing a soda from the refrigerator in the corner. The refrigerator was one of the many things in his room that made him the most popular teacher at SSH. Once word got out that he had a constant supply of cold sodas and a microwave for his students his classes had been filled to maximum capacity. Other teachers had complained, but when Richie explained that if he was going to be eating and drinking in class it was only fare to allow the students to as well to the principle, the complaints had been thrown away.

He booted up his computer and settled down to check his e-mail. There were the usual meeting reminders and a few jokes being sent around by the other teachers mixed in with some questions and pleas for extensions on papers from his students, but there were four in particular that caught his eye. He opened the first one, it was from Amanda.

'I assume you've talked to MacLeod, see you Friday.'

The second was from Adam,

'Friday.' Was all it said.

"And what is so important about Friday?" Richie asked the computer opening the next message, which was from Jaesin.

'Richie-

Hi! How ya doin?' Richie smiled, she wrote exactly like she talked. 'Do you know what the big deal is? Dad won't tell me. Which I know is a big surprise, nobody ever tells me anything. Any-who I guess you've heard by now that we're coming up this weekend. . . not that I know why, but we are. But I'm not complaining, I like the cabin.

See ya Friday! Jaes

P.S. Dad found the Eminem chips. Needless to say, I don't have them anymore and he's pissed. He still thinks I'm too young for them. And he thinks you're horrible for giving them to me. Thanks by the way, I really liked them while I had them!'

The last was luckily from Duncan, because contrary to what Amanda thought he hadn't heard from him.

'Richie-

We need to talk, it's important. I just found out something about the Gathering. I've called Amanda and Adam; we're coming to town on Friday. Cancel all your weekend plans.

-Mac

P.S. Eminem? I don't think so.'

Richie glanced at the clock; he had twenty minutes before his students would start showing up to class, which gave him plenty of time. He pushed a few buttons and began to respond to his mail.

'Jaes-

Why would I know what's going on? Nobody ever tells me anything either. They just assume I'll tag along. Sorry about the chips, I'll get you some new ones. . . just hide them better this time. I can't spoil you if you keep getting caught.

Stay out of trouble, Richie'

"And now for Mac."

'Mac-

What no hello? No greeting what so ever? Just 'I'm coming to town and taking over and telling you what to do even though you're a grown man of 132? I know you don't say goodbye, but no hi either?

So what's the big deal that you couldn't just call me or something? Or do you plan on being ambiguous until you feel like sharing?

-Richie'