Grrls Got Bite ~ Or ~ Mary Sue in Reverse

Disclaimer: Cassandra, Amanda, and the two guys belong to Davis/Panzer. Mary Sue belongs to us all. But why should I care? I ainít getting paid for this; itís just a wild experiment that got totally out of hand.

Note: This was never supposed to happen. I read Tanja Kinkelís interview with Mary Sue, then discussed it with Leah andówell, next thing you know, Iím writing this monstrosity. This is what happens when Mary Sue and Cassandra swap roles. Fun, huh?

Drinking Game Instructions: For every Mary Sue cliché, a sip. For every Methos cliché, two sips. A gulp for every person who Gets Some, and a swig for every mention of Joeís Bar. Got that? Okay, now you can start reading.

She strode into Joeís Bar like she owned the place, swaying gently to the sensual blues beat emanating from the stage. The eyes of every man in the place feasted on her soft curves, displayed gratuitously by her skintight blue jeans and red, crushed velvet bodysuit. Her deep brown eyes set in her perfect face scanned the crowd, searching for the source of the Immortal buzz she felt.

Duncan MacLeod looked up from his table, meeting her challenging gaze unflinchingly. He was a warrior. Surely he had nothing to fear from this heavenly creature. Beside him, the worldís oldest man, Methos, glanced over at the woman, then looked back at MacLeod.

"I suppose youíre going to ask her over," the Old Man commented sardonically.

"Of course." MacLeod looked up to find the lovely creature approaching his table. He was surprised to notice that her raven-black hair had a single streak of purest white in it, like a fairyís touch. Mac rose.

"Iím . . ."

"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," the beauty finished for him in a melodic soprano. She turned to Methos. "And Methos. Iím so glad to meet you both."

Methos choked on his beer, his gold-green eyes going wide. "How did you . . ."

The woman laughed, helping herself to a seat. "I can read minds, Methos. I discovered I had that talent when I became Immortal six months ago. My name is Mary Sue Innocentus, and Iím so glad to meet you."

Mac sat, offering his hand. She took it with her long, delicate fingers. "The feeling is mutual," murmured Mac.

Methos offered his hand next. "So tell me, Mary Sueówhat am I thinking now?"

She laughed musically. "Youíre plotting how to get out of paying your bar bill. You havenít paid for your own beer since the sixteenth century." Mac barked a laugh at that. Mary Sueís eyes, however, darkened. "And youíre wondering how much I can see of your past." Her doe eyes grew moist. "Oh, Methos, I can see all of it. I know how much youíve suffered over the evil you once did, but donít you see? You didnít have any choice back then. It was Kronos who was evil, not you."

Methos felt himself relax, charmed by this beautiful girl. Yes, she was right, he thought fuzzily. No choice whatsoever. Across the table, Mac also relaxed, content to be in Mary Sueís presence. She was just perfect.

They spent the rest of the evening listening to music and talking. As the talk wound down, Mary Sue stood. "Iíve got to get to bed, but Iíd love to see the two of you again. May I stop by the loft sometime tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," said Mac warmly.

Mary Sue pulled on the cape sheíd worn in. "Okay. Iíll see you tomorrow, Mac . . . and Methos." She smiled shyly and walked out.

Methos shook his head. Heíd spent how long concealing his past and his identity, and this very young woman, who couldnít have been a day over twenty-one, had guessed both within two minutes of meeting him. He just didnít get it.

The next morning, Mac was getting dressed in the loft when he felt the buzz. Cautiously, he went to the door, katana in hand, hoping it was Methos or the beautiful Mary Sue. Instead, it was Cassandra. The Highlander stood there, gaping in shock.

"May I come in?" the witch inquired gently.

"Uh, buh, duh, yes," stammered Mac. He stood aside and let her in. "How are you?" he inquired cautiously.

Cassandra turned her green-eyed gaze back on Mac and smiled. "Oh, Iím fine. I was angry and confused for awhile, but I calmed down, had a few good chats with Sean Burns on the astral planeóhe sends his best, by the way, and says if you need to talk about Richie, heíd be glad to meet you at a convenient seanceóand Iím feeling better than I have in centuries. How about you?"

"Ah, fine. Youíre . . . looking good." In fact, to Macís eyes, she was looking really good. How long had it been since heíd seen Amanda? A year?

Cassandraís eyes warmed. "You think so?" She discarded her coat, revealing her tempting curves.

"Yeah . . . I think so."

"You really think so?" The witch stepped closer, setting her hands against Macís broad Highlands chest. A moment later, they were engaged in a suffocatingly deep kiss.

Some time later, after engaging in a few activities that were only marginally physically possible, Cassandra trailed her fingers over Macís furry chest. "We have to talk," she told him.

Mac kissed her fingers. "About what?" He was in a state of post-coital haze.

"I understand youíve met Mary Sue Innocentus," said Cassandra. Mac nodded happily. "Duncanósheís not what she seems. Sheís dangerous."

Mac snapped out of his haze. "No way," he stated flatly, and started to get out of bed. He got tangled in the covers.

Cassandra tossed aside the covers and started getting dressed. "Duncan, you have to listen to me. Mary Sue has a manipulative power far more subtle than my own. Not only that, sheís mad. Bonkers. Crackers. Nuts. A few sandwiches shy of a picnic, a few bricks shy of a full load, a few bars short of a full symphony. There are bats in her belfry, and theyíre having litters of little bats. Lights are on, but no oneís storming the castle. To put a fine point on it, sheís crazy."

Mac was still trying to undo the square knot that had somehow gotten tied in his sheets. "The girl I met last night was very lucid," he insisted.

Cassandra breathed a few Sumerian curses. "Donít you get it? Sheís got you under her spell."

"Impossible," Duncan scoffed, on the verge of tearing apart the sheet holding him captive.

A moment later, Cassandra was nose-to-nose with him. "Oh, certainly. Goddess knows you canít be manipulated. Not by anyone. Especially Ahriman, Kantos, me, a Dark Quickening, that guy from ĎShadows,í and any other number of people who have turned that cabbage you keep in your skull to coleslaw." She punctuated her rant by thumping her pointer finger on Macís thick Highlands skull. "And I wasnít right about Kronos or Kantos, was I? Noooo, the witch is always wrong when a Mary Sue is in the story! Iím getting really and truly sick of this, Duncan! See if I ever try and help you again!"

Mac watched as she stormed from the loft, throwing on her coat, then turned his attention back to untying himself from the bed.

Methos had just finished showering when the buzz hit him. Assuming it was Mac but still cautious, he grabbed his Ivanhoe and went to the door wearing only his boxers. Opening it, he got a rude shock.

"Gah!" he yelled jumping back so quickly he stumbled, landing hard on his backside. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"Calm down! Iím not here for your head, much as Iíd like to be." She studied him, taking in his form in boxers. Why did he have to be so sexy? "Get up, would you? MacLeodís in trouble, and he might just listen to you."

Methos got warily to his feet. "Trouble?"

Cassandra let out an explosive sigh of exasperation. "Yes, trouble! If it was anything but a last resort, I wouldnít be coming to you, Old Man."

Reluctantly, Methos lowered his Ivanhoe. "Trouble of what kind?"


"Figures." Methos moved his long, lanky form to the couch where he sprawled, apparently unconcerned.

Cassandra felt herself blushing. Couldnít he at least have the decency to cover up? "Mary Sue Innocentus is in town, I understand."

"Yeah. Charming girl. What about her?"

"Sheís dangerous, Methos," Cassandra explained carefully. "Manipulative. She must be stopped before she takes MacLeodís head."

Methos sighed. "MacLeodís a big boy, Cassandra. He can handle himself."

"Not against this," Cassandra argued. "He doesnít understand her power."

"Well, Iím not getting involved," Methos stated flatly. "Last time I tried to take care of MacLeodís problems, he insulted me and threatened to take my head. Iím not doing it anymore."

"I expected as much," Cassandra snapped. "Keeping your head on your shoulders is all you ever think about. Loyalty? Friendship? Love? Feh! Itís all one to you!"

Methos got to his feet, hackles rising. "Do you have any idea the hell Iíve put myself through for that man?" he shot back, approaching her. "Iíve gotten a sword held at my throat more times since I met him than in the fifty centuries before, combined! And still it makes no difference to him! Iím not putting my neck on the line for him againóor for you."

Cassandra stepped even closer. "I expected nothing less. You havenít changed a bit, Methos. Still the same Ponyboy whoís haunted my dreams for 3,000 years now."

Methos went nose-to-nose with her. "Yeah? And which dreams are you referring to? The nightmares . . . or the erotic ones? Which really bothers you more, Cassandra? Hating me, or desiring me?"

Cassandra slapped him. Hard. Methos went with the blow, then returned his gaze to hers. "Feel better?"

She considered him. "No." With that, she shoved him down to the floor.

A contortionistís nightmare later, Methos was placidly agreeing to talk to Mac. Cassandra was buttoning her shirt.

"Good," she said. "And donít let him off the hook. That insipid little Mary Sue will have his head, otherwise."

"Whatever you say," drawled Methos, exhausted.

Cassandra grinned. He was so much easier to deal with when he was like this.

The next day, Cassandra was worried. Sheíd tried getting in touch with both Methos and Mac, but neither were available. She made her way down to Joeís Bar.

Joe was a little startled to see her, to say the least. "How can I help you?" he asked cautiously.

The witch leaned in close. "Do you know where either Methos or MacLeod is? Iím not hunting; Iím worried." Joe looked reluctant. "Donít make me use the Voice, Joe. It gives me a migraine."

Joe scratched his beard. She could have the information easily if she used the Voice, but she wasnít. That made him inclined to trust her. "To be honest, I havenít seen or heard from them in almost a day. Last I saw, Mac was driving away with that sweet little Mary Sue." The Watcher grinned fondly. "Sheís a doll, isnít she?"

Cassandra slapped her hand down on the bar. "Not you, too! Look at her Chronicle, Watcher. See if you think sheís Ďsweetí then."

Joe pulled out his laptop and booted up the Watcher Net. After a brief search, he had Mary Sueís file . . . and a look of growing horror on his face.

"Please tell me this isnít right," he breathed.

"Itís right." Cassandraís expression was grim. "Iím going over to MacLeodís loft. If you find anything out, call me on his cell phone." She turned and left.

Back at the loft, Cassandra was frustrated. There was a message from Methos on Macís answering machine saying they needed to talk, but that was about it. There was also a trace of cloying and annoying floral perfume lingering in the air. Mary Sue had been here. Cassandra tried Methosí apartment again. No luck. She was in the middle of inventing new curses when the buzz hit her.

The door opened. "Mac?" called a tired-sounding female voice. A moment later, Amanda was in the room, tall and gorgeous and crowned with white hair.

Cassandra was startled into immobility for a moment. She knew who Amanda was, but the feeling was apparently not mutual as the thief whipped out a light broadsword.

"Who are you and whereís Mac?" Amanda demanded.

"My name is Cassandra, and I donít know where MacLeod is." The witch studied Amanda briefly. She was beautiful, wasnít she?

Amanda lowered her sword and cursed. "I was hoping to find him here."

Cassandra stepped forward, wafting her arms apart in a gesture of trust. "I think he may be in troubleóand Methos, too." She explained about Mary Sue.

Amanda listened intently, all the time wondering what Cassandra used on her hair to get it that shiny and beautiful. "Listen, no offense, but I donít know you," Amanda finally said. "From what Iíve heard, though, Methos is at the top of your list of Least Favorite People; why should I trust you?"

This wasnít going to be easy, Cassandra realized. She searched her mind and came up with a possible way to make Amanda pay attention to her. "You can trust me because Iíve got no reason to lie. If I wanted to, I could make you do anything."

"I doubt that."

Cassandra smiled and gathered her will. "Drop your sword," she Ordered in the Voice. Amanda automatically obeyed. An intriguing possibility occurred to Cassandra. "Take off your shirt." Amanda did so, handing over the shirt to Cassandra and revealing a lacy black bra. And my, but wasnít she put together well? Cassandra smiled, then released Amanda from her hold.

Amanda looked a little startled at her defenseless, half-naked state. Cassandra chuckled. "You see, Amanda? I could make you do anything I wanted." The witch held up the shirt and began to help the thief back into it.

"Anything?" wondered Amanda aloud. Cassandra was one of the most gorgeous creatures sheíd ever seen.

"Anything," said Cassandra, toying with a button. For a moment, the two women just looked at each other, feeling the air crackle between them, as if from a Quickening. Reluctantly, Cassandra let go of Amandaís shirt. "Will you help me find them?"

"Who?" Amanda asked, feeling a bit confused. "Oh, right, the boys. Do you have any idea where they are?"

As if on cue, the cell phone rang. Cassandra answered it. After a short conversation, she turned back to Amanda. "Joe Dawson says MacLeod and Mary Sue were spotted down by the waterfront."

Amanda thought quickly. "Thereís an abandoned warehouse down by the marina. Good place for a Quickening. What say we start there?"


Fifteen minutes later, Amanda and Cassandra were cautiously approaching the warehouse. It looked to Amanda as if there were more people there than were strictly necessary. Thugs, she thought. Why canít these bad guys ever be original? She and the intriguing witch sheíd discovered slipped inside, silent as a pair of cats. A muffled cry rang out, and Amanda could hear someone talking.

" . . . guys like you are so easy," said the voice, feminine but harsh. "You just look at me and think ĎNo, she could never be a challenge. Sweet little Mary Sue.í No one ever takes me seriously!"

Amanda and Cassandra peered out from their hiding place behind some barrels. At the far end, Methos and Mac were both strung up by their wrists, half naked and looking like theyíd been killed a few times. Mary Sue paced in front of them, ranting.

"All you guys ever want to do is sleep with me. No one ever wants to take my head. Do you have any idea what that does to my self-esteem? Isnít my Quickening good enough for you? Or do you just want my body?"

"Iíd kill you without a second thought," offered Methos hopefully.

"Youíre just saying that!" screamed Mary Sue, and stabbed him again.

"Four thugs," Amanda whispered.

"You take care of them," whispered Cassandra back. "Mary Sue is mine."

The women leaped from their hiding place. Amanda handspringed over to Thug Number One and took him out with a single high kick. Thug Number Two pulled a knife. Amanda pulled a Rainbow Fan. He was down is seconds. Using her acrobatic skills and hapkido, she engaged the remaining ones.

"Did you know she could do that?" wheezed Methos at Mac.

Mac was watching in admiration. "Not a clue. But then, it was my show."

Cassandra, meanwhile, went straight for Mary Sue. The younger womanís eyes blazed with hatred.

"You!" Mary Sue snarled. "Youíre the cause of all of this! Just about every time you come in, I have to be the Insipid Love Interest. Itís not fair!"

"Then fight me," challenged Cassandra. "This has gone on long enough."

The two women fought, but realistically, Mary Sue didnít have a chance. Cassandra was far too old, and much too ticked off. All the younger woman managed to do was get in one good slice before Cassandra cut off her head.

Amanda finished freeing the boys just as the Quickening started. It wasnít long, but it was very intense, and Cassandra was left gasping in pain on the floor. Concerned, Amanda ran over to her and pulled the older woman into her arms.

"Are you all right?" Amanda murmured.

"I will be," Cassandra groaned. "She got in one good one, but itís healing."

The two of them looked into each otherís faces, brown eyes to green. Cassandra reached up, her fingers brushing the thiefís perfect face. "Youíre the most beautiful thing Iíve ever seen."

Amanda kissed her fingertips. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Mac and Methos stood and walked shakily over. "You all right?" Mac asked Methos.

Methos was working on a crick in his neck. "Of course. Iíve had much worse."

The two of them helped Cassandra and Amanda up. "I canít thank you enough for saving us, Cassandra," said Mac. "Iím so sorry I ever listened to that bitch, Mary Sue."

Methos looked an apology at the witch. "I did try to warn him, but Mary Sue even managed to fuddle me. Then her thugs came in and grabbed us, and next thing I know, Iím in an S/D nightmare." He looked at his former slave. "Iím indebted to you more than I can say, Cassandra. I only wish there was something I could do to make up for what Iíve done to you."

Cassandra regarded him steadily. "Out of respect for the friendship you have with MacLeod and Amanda, Methos," she began, "Iíll give taking your head a pass. However, since you brought it up, I do think a little recompense is in order."

Methos swallowed, but realized that if he agreed to whatever terms she set, heíd have a new potential ally with a lot of years and a lot of power. "All right. Name it, and itís yours."

"I think you should be at my beck and call for the nextóoh, say, century or so. When I call you, youíd better jump. I can make your life a living hell if you donít agree to this, Methos. Donít think I wonít." Her eyes bored into the elder until he finally nodded in acquiescence. "And the first thing you can do is renovate my Donan Woods cabin."

"Sounds like a plan," commented Mac, a little too quickly.

"And you can feel free to help out," snapped Cassandra. "Maybe next time I tell you something, youíll believe me."

Mac looked like heíd swallowed a pigeon, but he nodded. Then he turned to Amanda.

"Amanda," he began, "youíre looking great. I, um, found your fighting skills . . . exciting."

Amanda held up a hand, cutting him off. "Stop right there. After the year Iíve had, Iím giving up on men." With that, she turned to Cassandra, drew the older woman into her embrace, and pressed a long, deep kiss to her mouth. Cassandra returned it with great enthusiasm.

Mac stared at them unbelievingly for a moment, then gave a sigh of resignation. "I think weíd better leave," he muttered to Methos. Mac went over and collected their shirts from where Mary Sue had tossed them. When he looked up, Methos was still watching Cassandra and Amanda make out. The Highlander rolled his eyes, walked over, and grabbed Methosí arm.

"Come on," Mac ordered, physically dragging his friend away.

"But this could be very educational," protested Methos.

Mac just sighed again and yanked Methos out the door. Why did he always have to be the adult?

The next day, Methos and Mac were loading up Methosí van for the trip to the airport and subsequently Donan Woods when a sports car carrying two gorgeous women pulled up. Amanda and Cassandra got out, both glowing with happiness. Mac noted the suitcases in the back seat.

"So where are you two going?" he called.

"Pago Pago," answered Cassandra. "Itís been a long time since I had a real vacation . . . or someone to share it with." She looked almost shyly at Amanda.

"Have a great time," muttered Methos sourly.

Cassandra grinned impishly, then handed him a roll of paper. "These are the specifications for my cabin. Donít forget the new solarium. And rememberóI like natural tones, like deep greens, browns, and russet. And donít forget to cover the furniture."

Methos traded a look with Mac, then got into the driverís seat, muttering in Akkadian. Mac smiled at Cassandra.

"Enjoy yourself, Cassandra. Youíve earned it." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Duncan," Cassandra said softly. "I think Iíll be very happy now."

"Coming, hon?" called Amanda.

"Coming." Cassandra gave Mac one last smile, then got into the car with her new lover and rode away.

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Leah Rosenthal

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