Rating: PG Word Count: 530 Spoilers: Up to Supernatural 5.10.
Summary: (Supernatural/Highlander crossover) Bora Bora was very nice this time of year. Carthage, Missouri? Not so much. Especially when you're not dressed for it.
It quickly became obvious that the mysterious chanting voice was not a product of his own overactive imagination.
The immortal glanced around. It was night. Late, from the cold creeping shadows against the moonlight rather than the recently set sun whose rays had still be visible over the horizon when he had last looked out the window. Skin prickled against the cold air and the wind shivered in the trees empty of leaves. Intense blue eyes stared at him. Beyond them, the shadows in the shapes of multiple bodies were visible on the moonlight. Methos' toes dug into the dirt to maintain his balance. He had the strong suspicion that what he was standing on was a fresh grave. For more than one person. Not good.
No immortals about, but the air hummed with power. On the plus side, his host did seem happy to see him. At least, he hoped that was a plus. Methos' mind shied away from the impossibility of the instantaneous teleportation from his kitchen on his favorite French Polynesian island, but he kept his features schooled into a calm expression. He hadn't survived 5000 years by acting rashly even in the most unforeseen of circumstances.
Of which this clearly qualified.
"Oh, hello Death." Long, drawn syllables and Methos could hear the capitalization. The voice was American accented, confirming the impression left by the clothes on the bodies visible in the faint light.
The Immortal in question inclined his head in greeting as regally as a bare-footed man clad in shorts and an open Hawaiian shirt could and stepped down off the pile of recently buried corpses. As his unknown summoner gave Methos a wide, pleased smile, Death on a Horse couldn't help wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one.