Title: Weird, Even For This Family

Claim: Highlander General Series

Fandom: Highlander/Supernatural

Characters/Pairing: Methos, Sam, Dean (mention of Methos/OC, John/Mary, Sam/Jessica)

Prompt: Family

Word Count: 3214

Rating: 13ish.

Author's Notes: written for crossovers100. Second of the Mortal Ties Arc but can be read alone.

"Hey, I know that guy," Sam said suddenly, ignoring Dean. "Dr. Pierson! Adam!"

~*~*

Methos turned at the familiar voice. "Sam," his smile as natural and harmless as ever. His eyes slowly scanned about for John Winchester, who hopefully wasn't with his son. And what was Sam doing here?

"Dean, this is Dr. Adam Pierson. He taught Jess' Ancient Cultures Class last year."

Methos nearly laughed at the suspicious, narrow-eyed look he received from Dean Winchester. It was a look Methos had received at least a thousand times from Jane, almost identical, right down to that tilt to the left eyebrow.

"So, you're a professor, huh?"

"Guilty as charged," Methos gave a bright Adam-smile. "Is Jess with you too?" Jess he could deal with. John whom he'd met once as Mary's long lost half brother Dean Jacobs Jr. would be a distinct problem. Even though it had been almost twenty three years Methos doubted that he'd be able to slip under John Winchesters radar. The man was far too sharp. And even if it had only been a five minute meeting, John would certainly remember Mary's "brother" and start making connections.

His beautiful little Mary. Jane had been terrified, pregnant and alone when Methos had first seen her. She'd been so broken and beautiful. Methos wasn't sure why he'd stopped and bought Jane a coffee at that diner. Perhaps he'd been bored, or perhaps Cassandra had been feeling vengeful that day and cursed him with a moment of weakness.

Whatever it had been, forty-eight hours later, Jane Hollister had become Mrs. Dean Jacobs Sr. and five months later Mary Elaine Jacobs had been born.

Mac might scoff at Methos' mention of his numerous wives and children through the centuries. He had had sixty-nine wives, the last two in this past century--Jane and Alexa. His last child had been a baby girl who grew up to eventually be Mary Winchester and the mother of the two young men standing before him.

He'd left when Mary was nine. A hunter had spotted him, thinking he'd found a young Immortal and an easy kill. Santiago had never left anything to chance and kidnapped Mary as bait to make sure Methos accepted the challenge.

His precious little girl had awakened from the drugs Santiago gave her to watch the hunter's quickening hit Methos. Despite the fact he could have passed another two or three years without too many noticing he wasn't aging, that had been it. Methos decided it was time to move on, especially after Santiago's watcher would have noted an "unknown Immie" in the area.

Jane had known before what he was, and reluctantly agreed that it was best. Methos saw to it that Jane and Mary resettled safely with a tidy nest egg which would keep them comfortably for both their lifetimes. He'd also left the address and phone number of a law office in England should they ever have need of anything.

Mary had called him almost twenty-seven years ago. She had married, lost her mother to cancer, and gave birth to a son--Dean--all within a year, and wanted Methos to see her son.

Methos had risked the visit posing as his own son and Mary's long lost half brother, Dean Jacobs Jr. His little girl had grown into a woman every bit as beautiful as her mother and Methos had been properly impressed by the dark eyed baby boy. Strong and healthy. A fine son for his little girl.

Methos had risked five more visits. The last was when Sam was six weeks old. Now both Mary's sons stood before him, fully grown.

He'd been around Mac too bloody long. He wanted to say how proud Mary would have been of Sam and his scholastic achievements. Tell Dean that he looked remarkably like his grandmother Jane, right down to the suspicious look in his eyes which had been the very same look Jane had given "Dean Jacobs" when he introduced himself and offered to buy her a coffee. He wanted to tell Sam he had his mother's eyes and quick mind.

Mary's eyes, yes, Sam definitely had Mary's eyes, and they were broken and pained now looking from her son's face.

"Did I say something wrong?" Methos asked.

"A-apartment fire." Sam said softly. "Jess didn't get out."

"Oh Sammy," Methos breathed.

"Sam, his name is Sam" Dean corrected sharply with narrowed eyes.

"When?" Methos asked.

"Four months ago," Sam swallowed. "Lost Jess just like we lost mom."

A chill went down Methos spine. Nothing had ever sat right with him about his little Mary's death. Nor had a good deal of John Winchester's behavior in the years that followed.

Methos had spied on Mary's boys from time to time, he owed his little girl that much, to make sure her boys were okay when she wasn't there to do so herself. John Winchester had raised his sons to be warriors. The Ancient Immortal had approved heartily while wondering why a man of this day and age would do such a thing.

The advent of the younger Highlander, and the weekly crisis that followed Mac, in Methos' life had cut into his ability to keep a close eye on John Winchester and Mary's little boys. John was also a damn fine warrior himself and nearly caught Methos lurking about one too many times.

Methos had been certain John hadn't been behind Mary's death. He'd been certain John adored Mary's boys. He'd also been extremely impressed with the weapons and combat training no matter how strange a method of child-rearing by modern criteria. Reluctantly Methos had let them go, it had been for the best after all. Mary's boys had been well loved and looked after by their father who had also taught them how to fight and survive. Methos couldn't ask for more than that for his Mary's boys.

When he'd taken the semester-long teaching job it had been a surprise and a delight to find not only was Mary's baby Sammy at the college, but dating Methos' star student. He'd gotten a chance to see at least one of Mary's little ones grown. Now here they both were. That still left the matter of John...

"Is--" Methos tensed as the buzz resounded. Strong and hostile. An unusual buzz, and not one Methos wanted to meet. "How about I buy you two supper? Is your father with you?" He'd risk John Winchester before Mary's boys being targets of a hunter the sooner they moved somewhere more populated than this parking lot the better. Hopefully whoever it was wasn't looking for trouble and just passing by.

"Nah, Dad's...well, missing"

Methos stomach clinched. As he sensed two or three more immortals, almost drowned out by the powerful one that seemed more twisted than Kronos the closer it came. Damn it. No. He did not want the Game touching Mary's boys.

"Adam Pierson!"

SHIT!

Methos slowly turned. "Yes?"

"I have a message for Duncan MacLeod and you're going to give it too him."

Figures. Of course, it would be the bloody Highland infant's fault that Mary's boys lives were touched by the Game. If the Gathering came it would be Duncan Bloody MacLeod who set it off!

"What is it?" Methos asked calmly.

"Your head."

Shit.

"Let the children go. They have no part in this."

"Adam?"

"No, Sammy."

"Oh, and are these boys worthy of special consideration." the leader of the four Immortals asked.

"Touch a hair on either of their heads and you'll only live to regret it for a short while." Methos said his whole demeanor changing. Death came to the fore. Gone was mild Adam Pierson, in his place something primal, dangerous and beyond the ken of the two mortal men behind him and at least three of the four Immortals in front of him. He let loose the Quickening he usually had reined in. He'd learned more than one trick in his more than five thousand years.

"Not so young"

Death grinned. A feral dangerous expression that had one of the four challengers taking a step back. "No. And my head's been attached for over five millenia, child, the likes of you are not taking it. Nor are you touching my little Mary's boys."

Dean made to protest Methos cut him off without a glance, even before a sound escaped his mouth.

"Not now, little Deanie Dinkins, not now." Methos said dangerously, taking the chance that Dean had been old enough to remember the name.

~*~*~

Dean's jaw dropped. His mom had called him that from time to time. Not that he'd ever admit it in any other circumstance than this and would deny it that he even admitted it now. His father hadn't ever used that particular nickname. Sammy had been just five months old. He couldn't even sit up without help when their mom died let alone remember a nickname like that.

The four demanded meeting later that night. "or the little mortals would pay for his cowardice" is what they told Sam's Professor buddy who wasn't so much a mild-mannered professor just now.

"Adam?"

"I have a hotel room three blocks from here. Or we can go where you boys are staying. No where we can be overheard. I swear to both of you, I loved Janie and Mary far too much to ever hurt you. I don't want either of you involved with this but it's best you have an idea just to be safe."

"Our hotel" Dean decided. They had wards and weapons, and could pack up and move. It was just a hotel room.

"Yeah" Sam nodded. "Janie?"

"Your Grandmother Jane. Dean looks so much like her it's incredible. He could be her twin brother. You, you have my little Mary's eyes. She was so proud of you two. Loved you so much. Damn, I left to keep Janie and Mary safe. Now these bastards are going to drag Mary's babies into this."

"Uh huh," Dean scowled. "How the hell did you know Grandma Jane? She died before I was even born."

"She was my wife."

Dean's jaw dropped. "You're trying to tell us you're grandpa Dean?"

"Let's just go. I'll explain as much as I can."

"Oh you'll be explaining alright" Dean insisted.

~*~*~

"So what then some kind of demons?"

Methos shook his head. "No, at least I don't think so. There are Immortals that live their entire lives on Holy Ground and don't participate in the Game. We just are. We're all foundlings. Appear out of thin air it seems. We live, age, get hurt, get sick, until a violent death triggers the Immortality. We're no different from any other human on the planet. There are good Immortals, bad, insane, inventors, healers...no one knows why we exist or where we come from. Even in all my years I've never come across anyone who has had anything more than myth and fairy tales for reasoning."

Dean continued questioning. Methos found himself explaining Quickenings. How some became addicted to them and went hunting for the rush, for the power.

"How old are you?"

Methos shrugged. "I don't know. My earliest memories are gone. Large chunks that are so full of holes they could be decades or millenia. I'm over five thousand years old. I know that much, how much over five thousand I have no idea. Not when you get to that point that it makes all that much difference I suppose."

"So are you a good Immortal or a bad Immortal?" Dean demanded.

Methos swallowed. "I've been both, I've survived. Four thousand years ago or about that long ago. I--I don't really remember a lot from then, just pain. Blackness and pain. Kronos found me. He, Caspian, and Silas." Methos closed his eyes. "For a thousand years we rode together the four of us. Called each other Brother. Kronos was one of the most evil, mad, he thought Immortals should rule as gods. Thankfully back then ruling the world was not so easy and death was a personal one on one sort of thing. No nukes, no biowarfare, though Kronos had thought that was the route to take back in the nineties when he found me again. Don't worry, Kronos no longer has his head. Neither does Caspian or poor Silas. Silas was--simple. I doubt his IQ would have tested more than 70 if he'd ever learned to read and been given a test. A thousand years." Methos swallowed. "We rode our way into the world's nightmares."

"Oh?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "So like we would have heard of you?"

"I was Death." Methos said quietly. "Kronos was Pestilence. Caspian was Famine. Silas was War."

Dean and Sam both gaped. "The Four Horsemen. The Biblical Four Horsemen" Sam managed.

Methos nodded.

"So since then..."

"I've been a doctor, a priest, I've worked for the underground railroad for a time--hung for it twice. I've been a lot of places and done a lot of things." Methos shrugged. "Spent about a decade stoned in Haight Ashbury after I had to leave Jane and Mary. A Hunter threatened them. Kidnapped Mary. The risk of mortals we get to close to, they get drug into the game somehow or another, or we have to leave and they never know why. Jane and Mary knew. I made sure they were safe, had money for both their lifetimes. Left a number for a law firm where if it was ever necessary and they needed help they could call. It was the best I could do to keep them safe."

"Damn this family is more screwed up than even I thought," Dean shook his head. "Mom and Jess were killed by the same demon. Dad's missing, disappeared on us on a hunting trip. And we're hunting demons while we're looking for Dad and the bastard that killed Mom and Jess. Then come to find out Grandpa Dean is really the Horseman Death."

"How?" Methos whispered. "How?"

Dean recited the story, giving Sam a worried look as he did.

"You--ever hear of anything like that?"

Methos shook his head. "No...but...I know someone who knows someone who might. If Duncan asks, I think Cassandra will help if she can with information, if she knows anything. Even if you two are connected to me. Her grudge is with me. Not you. She won't punish you for my crimes, I'm sure of that. Cassandra's hatred might be all-consuming and unending but she's not completely blinded by it. She's never directed it at any innocent around me."

"Who?"

"Duncan is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. One of the best of us. Bloody damn boyscout with chaos for a shadow. Cassandra is...a seer. A witch. A fairly powerful one. And her visions are very accurate."

"She doesn't like you?"

"She died her first death on Death's sword and was his--sex slave for lack of a better word--for a decade."

"Uh, kay..." Dean managed "So basically she wants to castrate you before she decapitates you."

Methos nodded. "She'll never forgive me for it but she learned enough to keep her head, was kept from Kronos as long as I could. Though I didn't do her any favors by keeping her alive I suppose."

~*~*~

"So-"

"Shoot for the heart if you have to. Stay back out of the way."

"I don't like this" Sam frowned.

"Neither do I," Dean scowled.

"That makes three of us, but you'll do as I say, children."

~*~*~

Dean watched in awe. Gun cocked and ready to shoot if necessary. No way in hell were they losing Methos, even if it meant interfering. Rules schmules. These jerks already broke the rules with the fight being four on one.

"God." Sam breathed as two heads went flying with a single stroke of Methos' Ivanhoe.

A mist started roiling on the ground, coming from the fallen bodies.

A third head fell.

Okay this was just gross. Dean wondered if there was something a bit wrong with him since "Just gross" was the extent of his reaction to watching heads lopped off.

More mist. And some blue-white crackly light began sparking in the mist now rising straight up in the air.

Methos sword made contact and then some with the neck of the fourth, the leader, just as the ball of blue white light in the air struck. The first tendrils lashing out violently surrounding Methos.

"God," Sam breathed.

On and on it went. The small windstorm of mist and lightning lifted Methos off the ground again and again he was struck. Lightning, for lack of a better word to describe how the Quickening looked, streaked over his skin. Methos screamed.

Dean understood the warning to shoot him if Methos seemed too wild and strange. And keep shooting him, keep him dead until they got him to a guy named Connor MacLeod who could possibly help, or at least take his head.

When Sam asked why not the Duncan MacLeod Methos was friends with, Methos' answer had been that Connor was older, by only a century, but older. Connor knew a few more tricks than Duncan. And Connor was also not his best friend. Connor was a good man who didn't give a shit either way about Methos and loved Duncan like a son. He'd do what he could, and wouldn't take Methos head if it wasn't necessary for Duncan's sake if not out of any sense of honor, which Connor did have as well.

Methos was unconscious when the mist, wind and lightning stopped. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap from at least ten foot in the air.

Sam and Dean both ran to him.

"Go back to our room. I'll take him to his hotel."

"Dean"

"Sam"

"Dammit, Dean,"

"Look, you do the research on this evil bastard killing people here. You're better at it. I'll get Gramps straightened out."

"Just don't call him that when he wakes up. He might stab you if he's still wired from that." Sam capitulated with doubt in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'll take good care of Gramps."

Sam nodded. They did need to figure out what they were dealing with. They'd discovered the pattern every 33 years, 13 deaths, going back to 1798 and the fur post that had been here. 13 deaths had been a little more than half the population at that time.

Four were already dead and if it followed pattern, they had 20 hours to save the fifth.

Dean wasn't taking chances with his baby brother, just in case getting zapped shook a few marbles loose in the Immortal.

"C'mon, Gramps, lets get your bony ancient ass back to the hotel." Dean struggled with getting Methos up to his feet. Almost completely out of it, the only help Methos was was that he kept his feet under him more or less once Dean got him on them. It wasn't all that steady but better than nothing. "Be better if you actually helped a bit here" Dean grumbled.

"Brat" Methos slurred.

Dean grinned. The Immortal might be dangerous but he was all but 100% certain Methos wasn't a threat to Sam or him. And a possible lead to someone who might have an idea what happened to their mom and Sam's girl, they were keeping the guy. He was family, and besides, their family was already plenty weird. What was a little more weirdness.