The Immortal Seven
by Wyndewalker
AU: Immortal Seven
Feedback E-Mail: wynde@wyndewalker.com
Author's Notes: This is quite possibly going to be the only story I write in this little AU, I haven't decided for certain yet. Because of this I'm making this a completely open AU. Anyone can feel free to write in it. I encourage it. If anyone wants to write the story of the poker game or how the boys became Immortal, please do so. I may or may not ever get around to it so I'm not going to stop someone else from doing so. I'd actually like to see what other people might come up with. This whole thing started with the simple image of six men standing in a circle on a hillside at night and in the center of the circle were two more battling each other.


The Immortal Seven
by Wyndewalker


Six men stood, circled loosely on the hillside surrounding the two combatants. The clang and screech of steel striking steel echoed through the cool desert night. These men had grown quite familiar with the sound over the years. It was not a sound they liked, but they had grown used to it. They stood silent watch as their brother battled for his life, prepared to cheer him when he won or avenge him should he fail.

The two men danced around each other, both masters of this deadly game, both unwilling to lose. They were not unknown to each other. In fact, they were enemies of long-standing. The battle they fought had been prearranged 120 years before. It was the exact amount of money lost in the poker game which had fueled this animosity. Now they battled for their lives over it.

The seven men had taken a week off from their jobs in the Denver ATF to return to the town they had spent several years of their long lives defending. It was no more than a ghost town now, but it still held many fond memories of a time when things were black and white, rather than gray. They'd all come together in the little town, though some had known each other prior. It was here that a legend had been born. The legend of The Magnificent Seven.

Close to an hour had passed since the two had begun their duel and it was clear it would not continue much longer. Their clothes were bloodstained and ripped in several places. Immortal healing helped but could not completely counteract so many wounds. They were tiring. One of them would make a mistake soon.

The mistake came sooner than they expected when their brother twisted his ankle on a stone. He fell to the ground, landing on his bad shoulder. He managed to roll out of the way of the downward plunging sword. He rolled back, knocking the trapped sword from his opponent's hand, bringing his own sword up in a sweeping arch.

There was a long moment of hushed silence, then the sound of their brother panting as he worked to regain his breath carried up to them. He made it to his knees before the Quickening hit. His body arched as it was enveloped by the lightning. The six standing guard raised their swords in salute. A bolt of lightning hit first one, then the next, until the Seven were connected.

Then it was gone and they lowered their swords. As one they moved down the hillside to their seventh who was struggling to his feet, clutching his shoulder. Six hands reached out to steady him.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I'm quite alright," came the slow Southern drawl. He winced when someone slapped his dislocated shoulder a little too enthusiastically. "Please don't do that, Mr. Wilmington."

The tall black-haired man grinned. "Sorry, Ez."

"Dislocated it again, didn't you?" asked the single black man of the group.

"Unfortunately, yes, Mr. Jackson." Ezra grunted when Jackson popped the joint back into place.

"I thought he almost had you for a minute there, Ezra," the youngest of their group exclaimed excitedly. 139 years old and he still had enough energy to tire them all out.

"So did I, Mr. Dunne. So did I."

"But he didn't, son. Thank the Lord."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "We've been over this I don't know how many times in the past 125 years, Mr. Sanchez. I am not your son."

"Give me another 125 years and I might acknowledge that statement," the big man replied, grinning at the others' chuckles.

"'Ey, Ez," a raspy Texas drawl drew Ezra's attention. "Sorry 'bout your coat."

Ezra groaned as he looked at the tattered remains of his Armani suit jacket. "Thank you, Mr. Tanner. Luckily, Mr. Hyde is going to pay for its replacement."

"How? He's already dead," JD asked.

"You see, my young friend, one really shouldn't keep one's bank account numbers and passwords in one's wallet." Ezra held up the purloined item. The other men just shook their heads in amusement. "And you, Mr. Larabee? Any comments to make?"

The man in black tilted his head to the side and grinned. "Yeah. Don't take so long next time." He turned to walk away but stopped and looked back. "You done good, Ez."

Smiling, the six men followed him up the ridge. Standing on the hillside, they looked down on the ruins of the town they had once defended so valiantly. As they watched it came alive, the ghosts of friends long gone bustling through the streets. They faded away again, lost in the mists of time.

The seven men turned and walked away from the town where the Magnificent Seven became...

The Immortal Seven.