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Tara and Immortality

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This story is No. 4 in the series "The key shard realms". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Tara finds herself the student of the Highlander.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Highlander > Tara-CenteredMistofRainbowsFR15109,08935423,4408 Aug 0728 Mar 08Yes

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the vampire slayer nor do I own Highlander. This is purely for amusement.

Tara McClay woke with a start, the last thing she remembered was being shot. She hesitantly put her hand to her chest. She frowned as her fingers encountered a sheet that was draped over her body. She moved her hand under the sheet to check where she remembered being shot. Her hand glided along smooth skin. “It must have been a dream.”

Tara heard a male sigh, “I’m afraid not lass.”

Tara glanced over at a middle aged looking man sitting in a chair fiddling with a sword. “What do you mean? It had to be a dream.”

“Well you were quite dead when you fell out of a light show onto my dojo floor a few minutes ago. One second I was alone and practicing with my sword and the next a naked girl was sprawled on the floor.”

“I can’t be dead. There must be some mistake.”

“So I’m guessing this is the first time that you’ve died and came back from the dead?”

Tara hesitantly sat up. She held the sheet tightly to cover herself as she looked around the martial arts dojo. “So I really died?”

He nodded, “You’re taking it better than some people I’ve known.”

“I’ve seen stranger things, besides not much I can do about it is there?”

“Other than cut off your head? Not Really.”

“So you some type of warlock?”

He chuckled, “Not the last time I checked.”

“Then how am I alive? Where is Willow?”

“You’re alive because you’re an immortal and I don’t know anyone named Willow.”

Tara blinked, “What do you mean I’m immortal?”

“I mean unless someone cuts your head off you can’t die. You will come back from any injury, heal any wounds you suffer and return to the land of the living.”

“I’m a vampire?” Tara quickly checked her pulse. “That can’t be right I have a heart beat.”

He shook his head, “No such things as vampires. You‘re an immortal.”

“How do you know?”

“You know that buzzing noise in your head when you first woke up? That’s how I know. I’m an immortal, I’m Duncan MacCloud of the clan MacCloud, I was born four hundred years ago in the highlands of Scotland.” He pulled out a small letter opener and stabbed himself in the hand.

Tara watched in fascination as the wound closed and vanished a few seconds later.

He grimaced, “I would suggest trying it but it hurts.”

“You sure you aren’t a demon of some type?”

He chuckled, “Pretty sure.”

“So provided that I believe you, what makes us this way?”

“Fate, chance, divine decree, accident of birth, you name it we have a theory.”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

Duncan sighed, “There is a downside.”

“What’s that?”

“Other than watching your friends grow old and die, you can never have children. There is also the “game” to worry about.”

“Children weren’t really in the cards for me anyways. What game?”

“Most immortals believe that in the end there can only be one immortal left standing. So they tend to travel around dueling other immortals for their heads, as losing your head is the only way for us to truly die.”

Tara’s face blanched. “That’s horrible. You aren’t going to kill me are you?”

“Not planning on it. I’m content to live my life and deal with challengers as they come.”

She sighed in relief. “I guess that’s something.”

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

“Not seriously no.”

“I guess we can start working on that tomorrow.”

Tara glanced around for a phone. “I should call Willow and let her know I’m alright.”

He shook his head, “Your friends wouldn’t understand. You died, you can’t go back.”

Tara sighed, “I guess you’re right I can’t just call them up after being dead.” Her thoughts raced, ‘I’ll just have to call Willow in the morning and explain what happened.’

Duncan tossed Tara a bag of clothes. “There are some sweats and such that might work for now. We can go shopping in the morning for clothes that might fit you better.” His thoughts were troubled as he left the room. 'Why does all of this happen to me.'
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