Disclaimers: Highlander: The Series belongs to Davis/Panzer Productions, Gaumont Television, and Rysher Entertainment. Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Mutant Enemy, Fox Television Productions, UPN, Sandollar Television, and Kuzui Enterprises. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers: This contains spoilers for the Highlander: The Series episodes "Comes and Horseman" and "Revelation 6:8."

Summary: Methos met a demon long before he met Xander. The encounter led him to desire a better life away from his comrades in death.

Note: This is from Methos' POV.

"Another glorious raid. Eh, Methos?"

I glanced over at him. Kronos' eyes swept hungrily over our latest spoils. Caspian and Silas were leading the new slaves, all young and beautiful women, to the slave tent. They looked as scared as our slaves always did, and they had a right to be so.

I tried to feel the way Kronos was feeling. I tried to look at those mortal women and see them as mine, as something that would be fun to break in. My eyes fixed on one of them. She was younger than most of the others. Silas had her by the arms, laughing as she struggled desperately to break free of his hold. Kronos laughed at the sight. I frowned.

Why wasn't I laughing? Why wasn't I looking forward to getting started on this batch of slaves?

The answer came to me easily. Cassandra was why. She'd been in love with me. That tended to happen between a slave and her master. She escaped only a few years ago, and yet I was still thinking of her. I couldn't understood why I thought of her. I didn't know why I valued her over the others. She was no different from them, after all.

As I dismounted from my pale horse, the latest in a line of them, it finally dawned on me that I cared for her. I stumbled in shock. How could that even be possible? I didn't care about anything. I was a god. Everything but my brothers was below me. They either did my bidding or faced the consequences. How could I care for a slave?

"Come join me, brother," Kronos invited, slapping me on the back. "Caspian and Silas are eager to divide the spoils. We must hurry before they take the best for themselves."

"You can have my share. I don't want it," I said. I was feeling uneasy, and that alone was bewildering. I had to sort this out before I did anything worthwhile with my brothers. That is, if it could still be worthwhile for me.

Kronos gave me a sharp look. After a moment, however, he let go of my back and gave out a laugh. I almost sagged with relief but caught myself in time. "Very well, brother."

He jogged over to the slave tent. I watched him go. As soon as he ducked inside, I handed my horses' reigns over to one of our older slaves and went inside my tent. I dipped my hands into the full basin placed next to my cot, still wondering how I could care so much for a slave.

I heard one of our new slaves scream. It made me jump, knocking the basin all over the dirt ground and my cot. I cursed in a few languages that not even my brothers knew. In my mind's eye, I remembered another night when Kronos took Cassandra, telling me, "Now it's time to share the spoils of war." I'd stayed awake that entire night, listen to him laughing as he forced his way with her while she screamed out for my help. She escaped that same night. I hardly slept for a month after that. My brothers thought I missed my plaything. I realized that I'd felt guilty about letting Kronos take her so easily and I'd spent every one of those nights hoping she was safe. I didn't even realize that was why I was losing sleep.

Instead of calling for a slave, I just sat down on the cot. The water hardly mattered; I was already splattered with blood. Water would do no more harm to my clothing.

Blood. My nose curled at the smell as I glanced down at the red patches on my white clothing. My head was spinning. I felt like throwing up. Usually, the smell of blood made me ravenous for more death and destruction, but I now felt disgust. I remembered telling Cassandra that we'd killed everyone in her village including her. She'd been disgusted and horrified by it and I had reveled in it.

I could feel bile rise in my throat and quickly swallowed it down. I scowled in disgust at my uncharacteristic actions. The stench continued to overwhelm and smother me. I killed Cassandra over and over before she learned to behave. Her blood had been a constant on my clothing, and I always made her wash out my clothes before I let her tend to the dried blood around her healed wounds. How could I have done that?

Silas and Caspian would probably think I was bewitched. Kronos would never trust me again if I told him about this. I couldn't tell them about this. I needed to do something, but what?

I knocked the basin over and the rest of its contents splashed all over the ground. I was Death. Mortals were nothing compared to me. I was Death. I was Methos. All lived to serve me.

After giving myself the pep talk, an image of Cassandra reappeared in my mind's eye.

Suddenly, I remembered Cassandra's village. I remembered people screaming and running away in fear. I could remember enjoying it, and did again for a second. Then I remembered Cassandra. They were just like her, a voice inside me said. I hadn't heard that voice in a long time. I wanted it to go away.

"Guilt. It took so long for it to resurface in you, my dear Sippius."

The voice came from the tent flap. I spun around in time to see a dark shadow flicker out of existence.

"It's about time you did."

I saw the dark shadow on the edge of my vision, but when I turned to face it, it had already disappeared.

When it spoke again, the voice came from every direction. "I had to wait nine hundred years for you to come around. You're lucky I'm patient."

I drew my sword. "Show yourself!" I screamed at the walls of my tent.

The voice laughed, long and hard.

"It's time for you to pay, Sippius," it said again, this time from my right. I turned to face it and raised my sword. The voice's owner did not vanish immediately after I focused on it, and I got my first good look at it. Whatever it was, it wore dark, dirty rags over most of its form. Its uncovered head sprouted two long, curving horns on either side of its scalp, while a smaller, more pointed horn sat on the crest of its nose. All three horns were as red as the blood splattered on my clothing, while his skin was the ashen gray color of the dead.

He, I told myself. It was a he. I had to be hallucinating. Only Caspian and Silas believed in demons. He wasn’t really there. I was imagining it.

"You have caused so much desolation and darkness in this long lifetime," he said. "I'm here to make sure you never want to do it again, to anyone. Not just to your precious Cassandra."

Rage formed in the pit of my stomach. I could feel the truth in his words, but no one ever told me what to do. "I am a God. Anything you try on me will never work, mortal."

That produced another laugh. "I am hardly a mortal. I'm more Immortal than you are, Sippius."

I pressed my blade to his throat. "Do not call me that again. I am Methos."

He smiled cruelly at me before dissipating into a cloud of smoke. I followed it with my eyes until it solidified a few feet away into that ashen-gray form. "You haven't always been, and you aren't now. You were born Sippius. It's a shame you don't remember. If you did, we probably could have avoided all of this. But then, I wouldn't get to have any fun. It's not good enough for you to regret hurting Cassandra, but it would take you too long to start caring about the others on your own."

His grin disappeared and he stood up straighter. Power radiated off of him, and he seemed to tower over me. It made me even more furious. He would learn to bow to his proper master. I would see to it.

"You will feel guilt over everything you do," he told me. I froze and my breath came in pants. What was happening? One minute, I was angry, but the next, I was cowering in fear. What kind of spell had this demon performed on me? Where were my brothers? Surely they heard us. However, as I strained my hearing, I realized that the camp outside the tent had fallen silent. My anger resurfaced. What had to this demon done to them?

"You will be punished, not only by the dictations of your conscience, but by the judgement of those who are more righteous than you will ever be," the demon said. A chill went through me, stilling my anger once again. "You will regret everything you have done for thousands of years. This torment is to last for longer than you have been alive, and perhaps longer. This is the punishment the dead wish on their tormenter, and this is the punishment that you will suffer through." He spread his arms wide before raising his head toward the tent's ceiling and, beyond, the sky. "Amen!"

I gasped, panting, as I sat straight up on my cot. I looked around wildly, feeling for my sword. It was in its scabbard, which was still attached to the belt on my waist. My breastplate and face paint were also still in place.

I’d fallen asleep. It had all been a dream. It had to be. I barked a laugh. Spirits crying out for vengeance? Demons sent to invoke the spirits' revenge? Impossible.

It was dark inside the tent, and silence reigned outside. I glanced outside. The camp was there, and I could hear Caspian lying in bed with a slave that probably wouldn't last the night. I ducked back inside, lit a lamp and splashed my face with the little water that was still in the basin, although I was pretty sure I'd knocked the basin over a few hours earlier. Perhaps that had been part of the dream. I rubbed off the blue face paint in the process.

Suddenly, my mind's eyes were overwhelmed by visions of past battles.

I gasped again, dropped the bowl, and fell to the ground. That was…horrible. I'd done that countless numbers of times. How could I? How could I be the one to plan all of those raids and then execute them all with so much pleasure and a desire for blood?

Bile rose in my throat. I quickly leaned over the basin before I began to heave. I don't know how much time passed while I threw up, but it left me feeling shaky and weak. I through up three more times.

Tears were in my eyes after the fourth time. Was I feeling…guilt?

I knew then that I had to leave. I couldn't do it anymore.

It took a few weeks to put my plan into action. I had to subtly plant the desire to separate into my brothers' minds. They had to believe that they wanted to leave because it was what they really wanted. Even Kronos was fooled into considering parting ways for a decade or so. It wouldn't have been the first time. Every so often, the four or us went our separate ways, living on our own for a short period of time before we rejoined together and continued to raid more villages.

This time was no different at first. We agreed to meet again along the Egyptian border after twenty years' time. We either killed or destroyed all of our possessions except for our horses. Killing the slaves made me feel remorse, but I hid it from my brothers. I convinced myself that there was nothing I could have done for them. Afterwards, the four of us rode off in different directions, each of us determined to fight side by side some other day.

Each of us except me. I had no intention of returning. I had twenty years to find a good place to hide before they started searching for me. Hopefully, it would be enough.