It was just one of those days that happen. Weird universes collide, strange beings are created and destroyed, and when it's over.... Well -- they got together, brought some booze and "mixed" drinks, and started an all night poker game.

Teal'c was the problem. Once the rules of the, to him, arbitrarily thought up game were explained, he had a decided advantage since a "poker" face was the norm and no one had the faintest idea when he was bluffing. The pile of chips in front of him kept getting larger and larger and LaCroix's eyebrows were starting to beetle ominously. Angel shuffled in his seat and moved a couple of inches further away. He hadn't spoken two words to the other vampire since LaCroix called him an "inbred-moronic-carouche-shepard mix" (or something to that effect) and was determidly trying to keep the fragile peace.

When Methos went for yet *another* beer, Daniel decided to sit out the rest of the round and promptly folded. Most of his attention was on LaCroix' pale complexion and misshaped thumb ring anyway. The ring had been bugging him for hours, ever since the laser beams had gone right through the vampire and starting melting it. It looked vaguely Roman and he was trying to figure out a way to grill the touchy vampire without ending up as supper or a large smear on the ground. Of course, seeing LaCroix fly was still bugging him... there was just something....

"I got it!" He turned to Teal'c with the expression of one who's had a mystery cleared up. "You remember that story you were telling me? All about the legends behind the original Egyptian rebellion that kicked Ra off the planet? Wasn't there some head wizard who was supposed to be able to fly?"

"It is true." Teal'c nodded slightly. "It was one of Ra's more unfortunate experiments in creating a more powerful Jaffa. He had destroyed almost all his creations when Hathor spirited one away bent on reproduction." He looked at LaCroix thoughtfully. "The creatures that resulted were supposed to have been fanged, with strange eagle-like eyes and sensitive to sunlight...."

Angel looked at LaCroix. LaCroix looked at Angel.

"There are no alien parasites in *my* geneology." LaCroix sneered. "I think we can judge which of us came from the original stock... if I were to believe your insane legend which I do *not*!"

Angel just sighed and tilted an eyebrow meaningfully. "Whatever you say." He looked at his cards again, and tossed in a couple of chips. "I'm in."

"I *indeed* say that..."

Methos, three beers and a spritzer skillfully held in one hand (and two plastic blood bags in the other), interrupted whatever rant LaCroix was about to start by sitting back down in between them. "Who's turn is it?" Keeping a thumb wrapped possessively around his own beer, he started handing out the refreshments.

"Mine." Teal'c stated as he grabbed the spritzer. The next minute passed with the end result of Teal'c laying down a straight flush to the disappointed mutterings of the group, and collecting his winnings.

With the second largest pile on the table, Methos was looking decidedly cheerful. Five thousand years of games of various sorts gave him a distinct advantage and he felt confident about ending up the evening with the majority of the winnings -- unless he decided to get drunk and end up like the poor sod already passed out across the table, his beer held in one limp hand and getting warmer by the minute. "What are the long faces for? That castrating alien bitch from hell is in a million little pieces on the far side of the moon -- we're supposed to be celebrating!"

Teal'c lifted an eyebrow. "Daniel Jackson was speculating on the possible origins of the two vampire races, and..."

"No spec needed. I was around at the time. That Hathor was a real man- or whatever- hungry worm." Methos took another slug, and his slightly slurred voice took on a confidential tone. "Don't pass it on -- it would ruin the mystique, but those worms created the Immortals too."

"Huh?" You could almost *see* Jackson's mind start to mentally go through all the thousands of myths and legends stored in his head. "You mean... no way!"

"Sure. Crazy bastard by the name of Tacht'r, or Tucht'r... I could never get the pronounciation right. He had this dream of creating host bodies that wouldn't require the sarcophagus to rise from the dead. I think he's still running around Earth somewhere. I last met up with him around... 1850 I think. Nuttier than an English fruitcake and still determined he could make it work." He took another slug and started to chuckle. "Crazy."

"I don't understand." Jackson took off his glasses and started absently rubbing them with his shirt. "You don't age, minor wounds heal quickly and you can revive from almost any death. Why haven't the Goa'uld started using you as hosts?"

"The minute the worms try, our bodies treat it as a wound and 'heal" it. End result: one less worm to bother the universe." Methos looked happy about the prospect. "Old Tachtelloni stuck three of his kids in me before I skipped town. That was a long, long, *long* time ago. He smartened up after that and started creating Immortals with a stupid self-destruct code we call the Gathering. Makes them kill each other and keeps the numbers down."

LaCroix, who had been annoyed earlier, was starting to look smugly amused.

Methos looked up. "Uh-uh... Ixna on telling MacLeod." He picked up the deck. "My deal? Ok -- Five card stud, jacks wild."

It was a crazy, crazy world, but Daniel Jackson was starting to feel a lot better. This morning, he had known how the world worked. Earlier in the day, he'd had his worldview shaken by vampires and demons and Immortals. Now, well he had known about the Goa'uld for years. This he could handle.

Doyle, slumped down in his seat and thoroughly unconscious, snorted, shook and gave a mighty sneeze. Daniel looked on in disbelief as the other "man's" face turned green and tiny spikes appeared all over his visible skin.

Daniel sighed. It was just one of those days.

The End.

Back to Angel Annex Fanfic.