Fic: Sands of Time: Beginnings 2/?
Title: Sands of Time:Beginnings
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: Highlander: 5.20 "Archangel"
Crossover, AU
Summary: Paris 1997. An ancient evil is stalking Duncan MacLeod, and he must reach out to a former friend for help. Can Bobby Singer help him before tragedy strikes? A rewrite of the Ahriman arc from Highlander seasons five and six. Prequel to "Die Another Day."
A/N: This story was originally supposed to be three chapters long, one for each episode of the Ahriman arc. But, as usual, the characters have been talking my ear off and it got away from me. So as it stands now... I've got no clue how long this is going to take. Joe has some definite ideas about what it takes to watch a hunter, Bobby and Duncan never shut up, Richie is very insistent about what should happen to him and don't even get me started on Methos! *sigh* Yet again, I am the victim of the mutant killer plot bunny that wouldn't die.
Many, many thanks to dnachemlia for the beta and encouraging words.
Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Supernatural, Highlander or Deadwood. This story is offered up out of pure love for the shows and in admiration of the phenomenal talents of the casts and crews.
Since "Beginnings" is basically a retelling of the episode "Archangel" written by David Tynan, some of the dialog will be either slightly adapted from or taken straight from the episode. No copyright infringement intended.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oooOOOooo
May 18, 1997 Paris, France
There are many things Paris is famous for: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame. But Duncan MacLeod somehow doubted "City of Demons" would ever make its way onto a postcard. Dropping Jason Landry's journal on the table, he sighed wearily as he leaned back against the cushions of the sofa.
After they'd hung up on Bobby Singer he and Richie had spent hours poring over the journal and talking about everything Bobby had told them. While the younger Immortal was more than willing to accept the reality of the supernatural, Duncan was still having problems with it. He had been born into a world where witchcraft and demons were thought to be at work in every misfortune or unexplainable event. He thought he'd left that world behind when he moved into the enlightened age where science and logic could explain away strange occurrences, but now he was right back where he started: believing in demons and magic.
"I still have no idea what I'm up against," Mac said, bringing one hand up to massage his throbbing temple.
"I think what you mean is 'What we're up against,'" Richie stated firmly as he turned in his seat to face MacLeod.
"No, according to Landry it's coming for me."
"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere." Before he had a chance to protest Richie continued. "Mac, I might not be an expert in demonology or whatever like Singer is, but there's gotta be something I can do to help. If our roles were reversed I know you wouldn't leave me hanging." He laid a hand on the Scot's shoulder. "Whatever it is you're facing, I'll be right there with you."
Duncan looked at him and smiled, remembering the young street punk he and Tessa had taken in almost five years ago. The two of them had been through so much since then. After Tessa's death, looking after the newly Immortal Richie had been his anchor, keeping him from getting lost in his grief. They transitioned into an almost father-son relationship, where Duncan was Richie's guardian and guide in this new, strange world he was thrust into. Later, after the trust had been destroyed and rebuilt following Duncan's Dark Quickening that relationship transformed once again. Matured. They were now equals. They were now brothers.
"Thanks, Richie," he said, grasping the other man's shoulder mirroring his gesture. "Thanks."
oooOOOooo
Afternoon turned to evening, and as the light faded from the sky casting the world into shadow the two Immortals were more and more reluctant to leave each other's company. They'd left the barge only briefly to pick up dinner and immediately rushed back, constantly looking over their shoulders as if expecting an attack. But none came. They ate in relative silence, each lost in his own thoughts. It was only after the food had been eaten and the dishes washed and put away that the conversation began again.
"So," Mac hesitantly began. "Interesting day."
Richie gave him a startled look, and then laughed. "That's certainly one way of putting it."
oooOOOooo
"You know Mac? Of all the things I miss about living with you, sleeping on the couch isn't one of them," Richie said as he prepared his makeshift bed.
The younger man had opted to spend the night on MacLeod's couch rather than make the drive back to his apartment. Though whether it was because he didn't feel comfortable being alone as he'd claimed, or because Richie was worried about MacLeod of which neither was sure. In truth, Duncan was glad to have the company. Having someone with him, especially someone who believed he wasn't losing his mind, made him feel almost normal again.
Duncan threw Richie a pillow as he made his way to the kitchen area. "Well you could always go home."
"Oh, yeah, right," Richie said sarcastically. "Do you remember the phone call with Singer earlier? 'Cause I sure do, and the words 'demon,' 'ghost,' and 'necromancy' came through loud and clear. Now I don't know about you, but I've seen enough horror movies to know that when weird crap starts happening you do not split up. It's like a rule or something." He dropped onto the sofa and, accepting a beer from MacLeod, continued. "Anyway, he warned us to be careful 'cause he thinks this thing is dangerous." He paused a moment, thinking about the last words the self-proclaimed 'demon hunter' said to them. "Mac, this guy hunts monsters for a living and even he sounded pretty freaked."
"Yeah, I know." Duncan set his own bottle down and thought about the call. Ellsworth-Bobby, he reminded himself-had believed him without question. Had just taken what he said at face value, and more than that, had even managed to give him some answers. His mind flashed back almost fifteen years, to the last time they'd spoken. That time it had been Bobby who was spouting off about demons and asking his friend to believe him. But instead MacLeod had accused him of being crazy. Worse, he'd blamed Bobby for the death of his wife and refused to listen to what he was trying to tell him. He wouldn't listen to the man who was 'helping' Bobby (Rufus, he thought his name was), wouldn't look at any of the evidence Bobby tried to show him and turned his back on a friendship of nearly a century.
"Hello-o? Earth to MacLeod." Richie's voice cut into his thoughts. "Still with me man?"
"Yeah," Duncan said, snapping back to the present. "Yeah, I was just thinking."
Richie took a drink and nodded, not realizing the reason for MacLeod's shift in mood. "I don't blame you. That was...I mean, ever since I learned about Immortals I've been wondering what else is out there. But to have someone confirm that there's all this stuff going on right under our noses is just..."
"I know. I'm starting to wonder about that tabloid story you mentioned." Seeing Richie's puzzled look he explained. "Last year just before...before we met Coltec you were telling me about a tabloid article that claimed to have proof that werewolves exist. Well, now I'm starting to wonder if maybe they do."
"Maybe all the weird stuff in the supermarket rags is true. I mean, we're real. And where else would you expect to read about guys who live forever unless you chop off their heads except in tabloids?" Richie shook his head. "What do you think Mac? Werewolves, vampires, aliens? You think they could all be real?"
Now there's an interesting thought. I wonder if it's possible to buy insurance against a werewolf attack? Duncan laughed to himself. He was about to mention it to Richie when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"MacLeod? It's me." The urgent tone in Bobby Singer's voice stifled Duncan's earlier amusement.
"Bobby? Did you find something out?" At the mention of Bobby's name Richie stood and moved toward Duncan, listening intently to his half of the conversation.
"Oh I found something all right." Bobby paused, and for a long moment all the Highlander could hear was Bobby's ragged breathing. "I... I don't wanna say right now. Not until after I've had a look at Landry's journal. You've still got it, right?"
"Yeah, it's right here." MacLeod glanced over at the desk where the journal, as well as his own notebook of half-formed thoughts and theories, were laying open. "Do you want me to send it to you?" While Duncan was reluctant to let the journal out of his possession, if it would give him the answers he needed he was willing to do it.
"Don't bother. I'm gonna be on the next flight outta Sioux Falls. I should arrive in Paris around eleven tomorrow morning."
"What happened to doing research for that other hunter and then getting some sleep?"
"The hunt's over and it's nine hours from my connecting flight in Minneapolis to Paris. I'll sleep on the plane." As the hunter was speaking MacLeod could hear him hurriedly packing.
"Bobby?" MacLeod asked, his anxiety level rising. "What's going on? Why are you in such a hurry to get here?"
Richie interrupted. "Something's wrong, isn't it Mac?"
Hearing Richie's voice come over the line Bobby asked. "Is that the young pup from earlier?"
"Yeah. The 'pup' is spending the night." Duncan grinned at Singer's nickname for Richie, then nearly laughed out loud at the young man's reaction to it. "After our call he and I went over Landry's journal some more and... well, neither of us is too anxious to be alone right now."
"Understandable. Well... that's good that you're sticking together; you can watch each other's backs. Plus it's good to have someone else around to reassure you you're not going crazy."
"I'm glad you agree," Duncan sighed in relief. "I was afraid it made me sound like a five-year-old scared of the monster in the closet."
"Hey, I slept with the lights on for a couple' a months after I saw my first demon," Bobby admitted. "Not that that really does anything except run up your electric bill, but it made me feel better." He cleared his throat and continued. "Look, I'm still not too clear on exactly what you're dealing with, so I'm not sure what we'll need to fight this thing. I'll bring as much as I can with me, but there are a few basic supplies you can start to gather until I get there."
"What kind of supplies?" Mac held up a hand to silence Richie, who looked as if he were about to speak up again and grabbed a pad and pencil. As Bobby listed what he needed MacLeod wrote each one down, his brow furrowing deeper with each new line.
Looking over Mac's shoulder at the list Richie blinked in surprise. "He's kidding, right? What does he need all that stuff for?"
Bobby continued as if he hadn't heard Richie's question. "All right, I gotta get going if I'm going to make my flight. And Mac?" Once again Bobby's voice conveyed the seriousness of the situation. "Demons are evil, manipulative sons-of-bitches. Twenty years ago one tricked me into killing someone I loved. Last thing I want is for you to go through what I did. You watch your back. Richie's too."
MacLeod took a deep breath and pushed aside mental images of one of his friends lying dead by his hand. "We'll be careful, Bobby. One of us will pick you up from the airport tomorrow."
Hanging up the phone, Duncan turned to Richie and held up the sheet of paper he'd written on. "Which do you want to do: airport pickup or shopping?"
"I'll go shopping. Singer's your friend and I'm sure you two have stuff to talk about." Richie grabbed the list from MacLeod's hand and looked it over again. "Ok, the wooden stakes and rosaries I get, but what does he want with an iron chain and ten pounds of salt?"
oooOOOooo
Duncan rolled over and groaned at seeing the three AM illuminated on the bedside clock. He readjusted his pillows and attempted to get back to sleep. Or rather, to get to sleep in the first place. Over and over he played back the events of the last few days in his mind, searching for a reasonable answer. But as far as he could tell there were only two options: either he was going crazy or there really was a demon after him. And honestly? He didn't know which prospect scared him more.
The sound of light snoring told him that Richie wasn't wrestling with their predicament the same way he was. But then, Richie had always been able to adapt to any situation, no matter how bizarre. He had to admit he was envious of the young man's acceptance of this new strange turn of events. Perhaps if he'd had that ability he wouldn't have wasted the last fifteen years being estranged from his old friend. Is this what Bobby went through? he wondered. Felt like his sanity was slipping away? Like he was falling deeper and deeper into a pit from which there was no escape? He had rejected Bobby when he kept insisting a demon had possessed his wife, it was only a matter of time before his friends rejected him. Joe and Methos were already questioning his behavior. Would Richie be next? Would Bobby arrive in Paris, only to leave again, telling him he'd been wrong and that everything Mac had been seeing was in his head?
Alone. They're all going to leave you. You're going to be all alone.
Stop it! he shouted in his mind. If you keep thinking like this you'll get to sleep. Blowing out a long breath he pulled the covers up over his head and eventually drifted off into an uneasy slumber.
oooOOOooo
"Most religions have some version of the savior myth," Methos said as he, Joe Dawson and Richie walked through the park. "Demons are sent to destroy the world, and a champion comes to protect it."
"That is exactly what it says in the journal." After leaving the barge that morning Richie called his two friends to tell them about what Bobby had said and to try to get them to help out, but so far the conversation wasn't going as he'd hoped it would.
"But millennium theory is nothing new, Richie," Methos continued. "Every thousand years I hear these same stories. I don't know. I have never seen a demon."
Joe snorted. "A Zoroastrian demon."
"How do you know you haven't?" Richie countered. "Maybe you just didn't recognize what you were seeing." He was growing tired of arguing with them. Why are they finding this so hard to believe? he wondered. "Look, what if all this is real? What if this is why Immortals are here, to fight these things? You believe in Immortals, Dark Quickenings and Holy Springs, why you can't believe in this?"
"So, let me get this straight," Joe said, failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice. "There have been demons running around for thousands of years and nobody's noticed them? Not Immortals, not Watchers. Nobody?"
Richie tried to make them see the logic in what he was saying. "Immortals have been around for thousands of years, and most of the world hasn't noticed us. Only Watchers and the few mortals that discovered the secret know about us, so why not?" He sighed in frustration. "You guys have another explanation for what's been going on?"
"What's going on is that Duncan MacLeod's losing it." Joe insisted.
"Not according to the expert we talked to yesterday." Richie tried again. "He said that just about everything Mac's been seeing has a valid supernatural explanation and he's seen it happen."
"Expert?" Methos scoffed. "What expert? Madame Zorina the Tarot card reader?"
"Oh, man." Stopping dead in his tracks Dawson exclaimed. "Please tell me he didn't call that crackpot in South Dakota."
"If you're talking about Bobby Singer, then yeah, Mac called him yesterday and Bobby called back last night to say he was on his way to Paris. Joe, he's not a crackpot," Richie said. "You didn't hear him. It was amazing, he was able to recite all kinds of stuff off the top of his head. The guy's like a walking encyclopedia of the supernatural."
"Yeah, and I know a guy who can give you a complete breakdown of every Star Trek episode ever aired. Including stardates. But that doesn't make any of it true." Joe put his hand on Richie's shoulder and turned the young man to face him. "Listen, Ellsworth, or Singer or whatever he wants to call himself is several cards shy of a full deck. Richie, the guy burns through more Watchers in a decade than most Immortals do in a century."
"What's that supposed to prove?" the younger Immortal asked.
It was Methos who answered him. "It proves that people who have been trained to observe Immortals under the worst possible conditions can't tolerate being around him for very long. Watcher training isn't easy, Richie. And if they can't last more than a year or two with him, you have to ask yourself why." At Richie's defiant look he sighed. "Ok, we'll talk to the granddaughter. See what she has to say."
"You guys talk to her," Richie snapped. "I've got stuff to do." With that he stalked off leaving Joe and Methos behind to wonder what was happening to their friends.
Chapter 3
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: Highlander: 5.20 "Archangel"
Crossover, AU
Summary: Paris 1997. An ancient evil is stalking Duncan MacLeod, and he must reach out to a former friend for help. Can Bobby Singer help him before tragedy strikes? A rewrite of the Ahriman arc from Highlander seasons five and six. Prequel to "Die Another Day."
A/N: This story was originally supposed to be three chapters long, one for each episode of the Ahriman arc. But, as usual, the characters have been talking my ear off and it got away from me. So as it stands now... I've got no clue how long this is going to take. Joe has some definite ideas about what it takes to watch a hunter, Bobby and Duncan never shut up, Richie is very insistent about what should happen to him and don't even get me started on Methos! *sigh* Yet again, I am the victim of the mutant killer plot bunny that wouldn't die.
Many, many thanks to dnachemlia for the beta and encouraging words.
Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Supernatural, Highlander or Deadwood. This story is offered up out of pure love for the shows and in admiration of the phenomenal talents of the casts and crews.
Since "Beginnings" is basically a retelling of the episode "Archangel" written by David Tynan, some of the dialog will be either slightly adapted from or taken straight from the episode. No copyright infringement intended.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oooOOOooo
May 18, 1997 Paris, France
There are many things Paris is famous for: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame. But Duncan MacLeod somehow doubted "City of Demons" would ever make its way onto a postcard. Dropping Jason Landry's journal on the table, he sighed wearily as he leaned back against the cushions of the sofa.
After they'd hung up on Bobby Singer he and Richie had spent hours poring over the journal and talking about everything Bobby had told them. While the younger Immortal was more than willing to accept the reality of the supernatural, Duncan was still having problems with it. He had been born into a world where witchcraft and demons were thought to be at work in every misfortune or unexplainable event. He thought he'd left that world behind when he moved into the enlightened age where science and logic could explain away strange occurrences, but now he was right back where he started: believing in demons and magic.
"I still have no idea what I'm up against," Mac said, bringing one hand up to massage his throbbing temple.
"I think what you mean is 'What we're up against,'" Richie stated firmly as he turned in his seat to face MacLeod.
"No, according to Landry it's coming for me."
"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere." Before he had a chance to protest Richie continued. "Mac, I might not be an expert in demonology or whatever like Singer is, but there's gotta be something I can do to help. If our roles were reversed I know you wouldn't leave me hanging." He laid a hand on the Scot's shoulder. "Whatever it is you're facing, I'll be right there with you."
Duncan looked at him and smiled, remembering the young street punk he and Tessa had taken in almost five years ago. The two of them had been through so much since then. After Tessa's death, looking after the newly Immortal Richie had been his anchor, keeping him from getting lost in his grief. They transitioned into an almost father-son relationship, where Duncan was Richie's guardian and guide in this new, strange world he was thrust into. Later, after the trust had been destroyed and rebuilt following Duncan's Dark Quickening that relationship transformed once again. Matured. They were now equals. They were now brothers.
"Thanks, Richie," he said, grasping the other man's shoulder mirroring his gesture. "Thanks."
oooOOOooo
Afternoon turned to evening, and as the light faded from the sky casting the world into shadow the two Immortals were more and more reluctant to leave each other's company. They'd left the barge only briefly to pick up dinner and immediately rushed back, constantly looking over their shoulders as if expecting an attack. But none came. They ate in relative silence, each lost in his own thoughts. It was only after the food had been eaten and the dishes washed and put away that the conversation began again.
"So," Mac hesitantly began. "Interesting day."
Richie gave him a startled look, and then laughed. "That's certainly one way of putting it."
oooOOOooo
"You know Mac? Of all the things I miss about living with you, sleeping on the couch isn't one of them," Richie said as he prepared his makeshift bed.
The younger man had opted to spend the night on MacLeod's couch rather than make the drive back to his apartment. Though whether it was because he didn't feel comfortable being alone as he'd claimed, or because Richie was worried about MacLeod of which neither was sure. In truth, Duncan was glad to have the company. Having someone with him, especially someone who believed he wasn't losing his mind, made him feel almost normal again.
Duncan threw Richie a pillow as he made his way to the kitchen area. "Well you could always go home."
"Oh, yeah, right," Richie said sarcastically. "Do you remember the phone call with Singer earlier? 'Cause I sure do, and the words 'demon,' 'ghost,' and 'necromancy' came through loud and clear. Now I don't know about you, but I've seen enough horror movies to know that when weird crap starts happening you do not split up. It's like a rule or something." He dropped onto the sofa and, accepting a beer from MacLeod, continued. "Anyway, he warned us to be careful 'cause he thinks this thing is dangerous." He paused a moment, thinking about the last words the self-proclaimed 'demon hunter' said to them. "Mac, this guy hunts monsters for a living and even he sounded pretty freaked."
"Yeah, I know." Duncan set his own bottle down and thought about the call. Ellsworth-Bobby, he reminded himself-had believed him without question. Had just taken what he said at face value, and more than that, had even managed to give him some answers. His mind flashed back almost fifteen years, to the last time they'd spoken. That time it had been Bobby who was spouting off about demons and asking his friend to believe him. But instead MacLeod had accused him of being crazy. Worse, he'd blamed Bobby for the death of his wife and refused to listen to what he was trying to tell him. He wouldn't listen to the man who was 'helping' Bobby (Rufus, he thought his name was), wouldn't look at any of the evidence Bobby tried to show him and turned his back on a friendship of nearly a century.
"Hello-o? Earth to MacLeod." Richie's voice cut into his thoughts. "Still with me man?"
"Yeah," Duncan said, snapping back to the present. "Yeah, I was just thinking."
Richie took a drink and nodded, not realizing the reason for MacLeod's shift in mood. "I don't blame you. That was...I mean, ever since I learned about Immortals I've been wondering what else is out there. But to have someone confirm that there's all this stuff going on right under our noses is just..."
"I know. I'm starting to wonder about that tabloid story you mentioned." Seeing Richie's puzzled look he explained. "Last year just before...before we met Coltec you were telling me about a tabloid article that claimed to have proof that werewolves exist. Well, now I'm starting to wonder if maybe they do."
"Maybe all the weird stuff in the supermarket rags is true. I mean, we're real. And where else would you expect to read about guys who live forever unless you chop off their heads except in tabloids?" Richie shook his head. "What do you think Mac? Werewolves, vampires, aliens? You think they could all be real?"
Now there's an interesting thought. I wonder if it's possible to buy insurance against a werewolf attack? Duncan laughed to himself. He was about to mention it to Richie when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"MacLeod? It's me." The urgent tone in Bobby Singer's voice stifled Duncan's earlier amusement.
"Bobby? Did you find something out?" At the mention of Bobby's name Richie stood and moved toward Duncan, listening intently to his half of the conversation.
"Oh I found something all right." Bobby paused, and for a long moment all the Highlander could hear was Bobby's ragged breathing. "I... I don't wanna say right now. Not until after I've had a look at Landry's journal. You've still got it, right?"
"Yeah, it's right here." MacLeod glanced over at the desk where the journal, as well as his own notebook of half-formed thoughts and theories, were laying open. "Do you want me to send it to you?" While Duncan was reluctant to let the journal out of his possession, if it would give him the answers he needed he was willing to do it.
"Don't bother. I'm gonna be on the next flight outta Sioux Falls. I should arrive in Paris around eleven tomorrow morning."
"What happened to doing research for that other hunter and then getting some sleep?"
"The hunt's over and it's nine hours from my connecting flight in Minneapolis to Paris. I'll sleep on the plane." As the hunter was speaking MacLeod could hear him hurriedly packing.
"Bobby?" MacLeod asked, his anxiety level rising. "What's going on? Why are you in such a hurry to get here?"
Richie interrupted. "Something's wrong, isn't it Mac?"
Hearing Richie's voice come over the line Bobby asked. "Is that the young pup from earlier?"
"Yeah. The 'pup' is spending the night." Duncan grinned at Singer's nickname for Richie, then nearly laughed out loud at the young man's reaction to it. "After our call he and I went over Landry's journal some more and... well, neither of us is too anxious to be alone right now."
"Understandable. Well... that's good that you're sticking together; you can watch each other's backs. Plus it's good to have someone else around to reassure you you're not going crazy."
"I'm glad you agree," Duncan sighed in relief. "I was afraid it made me sound like a five-year-old scared of the monster in the closet."
"Hey, I slept with the lights on for a couple' a months after I saw my first demon," Bobby admitted. "Not that that really does anything except run up your electric bill, but it made me feel better." He cleared his throat and continued. "Look, I'm still not too clear on exactly what you're dealing with, so I'm not sure what we'll need to fight this thing. I'll bring as much as I can with me, but there are a few basic supplies you can start to gather until I get there."
"What kind of supplies?" Mac held up a hand to silence Richie, who looked as if he were about to speak up again and grabbed a pad and pencil. As Bobby listed what he needed MacLeod wrote each one down, his brow furrowing deeper with each new line.
Looking over Mac's shoulder at the list Richie blinked in surprise. "He's kidding, right? What does he need all that stuff for?"
Bobby continued as if he hadn't heard Richie's question. "All right, I gotta get going if I'm going to make my flight. And Mac?" Once again Bobby's voice conveyed the seriousness of the situation. "Demons are evil, manipulative sons-of-bitches. Twenty years ago one tricked me into killing someone I loved. Last thing I want is for you to go through what I did. You watch your back. Richie's too."
MacLeod took a deep breath and pushed aside mental images of one of his friends lying dead by his hand. "We'll be careful, Bobby. One of us will pick you up from the airport tomorrow."
Hanging up the phone, Duncan turned to Richie and held up the sheet of paper he'd written on. "Which do you want to do: airport pickup or shopping?"
"I'll go shopping. Singer's your friend and I'm sure you two have stuff to talk about." Richie grabbed the list from MacLeod's hand and looked it over again. "Ok, the wooden stakes and rosaries I get, but what does he want with an iron chain and ten pounds of salt?"
oooOOOooo
Duncan rolled over and groaned at seeing the three AM illuminated on the bedside clock. He readjusted his pillows and attempted to get back to sleep. Or rather, to get to sleep in the first place. Over and over he played back the events of the last few days in his mind, searching for a reasonable answer. But as far as he could tell there were only two options: either he was going crazy or there really was a demon after him. And honestly? He didn't know which prospect scared him more.
The sound of light snoring told him that Richie wasn't wrestling with their predicament the same way he was. But then, Richie had always been able to adapt to any situation, no matter how bizarre. He had to admit he was envious of the young man's acceptance of this new strange turn of events. Perhaps if he'd had that ability he wouldn't have wasted the last fifteen years being estranged from his old friend. Is this what Bobby went through? he wondered. Felt like his sanity was slipping away? Like he was falling deeper and deeper into a pit from which there was no escape? He had rejected Bobby when he kept insisting a demon had possessed his wife, it was only a matter of time before his friends rejected him. Joe and Methos were already questioning his behavior. Would Richie be next? Would Bobby arrive in Paris, only to leave again, telling him he'd been wrong and that everything Mac had been seeing was in his head?
Alone. They're all going to leave you. You're going to be all alone.
Stop it! he shouted in his mind. If you keep thinking like this you'll get to sleep. Blowing out a long breath he pulled the covers up over his head and eventually drifted off into an uneasy slumber.
oooOOOooo
"Most religions have some version of the savior myth," Methos said as he, Joe Dawson and Richie walked through the park. "Demons are sent to destroy the world, and a champion comes to protect it."
"That is exactly what it says in the journal." After leaving the barge that morning Richie called his two friends to tell them about what Bobby had said and to try to get them to help out, but so far the conversation wasn't going as he'd hoped it would.
"But millennium theory is nothing new, Richie," Methos continued. "Every thousand years I hear these same stories. I don't know. I have never seen a demon."
Joe snorted. "A Zoroastrian demon."
"How do you know you haven't?" Richie countered. "Maybe you just didn't recognize what you were seeing." He was growing tired of arguing with them. Why are they finding this so hard to believe? he wondered. "Look, what if all this is real? What if this is why Immortals are here, to fight these things? You believe in Immortals, Dark Quickenings and Holy Springs, why you can't believe in this?"
"So, let me get this straight," Joe said, failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice. "There have been demons running around for thousands of years and nobody's noticed them? Not Immortals, not Watchers. Nobody?"
Richie tried to make them see the logic in what he was saying. "Immortals have been around for thousands of years, and most of the world hasn't noticed us. Only Watchers and the few mortals that discovered the secret know about us, so why not?" He sighed in frustration. "You guys have another explanation for what's been going on?"
"What's going on is that Duncan MacLeod's losing it." Joe insisted.
"Not according to the expert we talked to yesterday." Richie tried again. "He said that just about everything Mac's been seeing has a valid supernatural explanation and he's seen it happen."
"Expert?" Methos scoffed. "What expert? Madame Zorina the Tarot card reader?"
"Oh, man." Stopping dead in his tracks Dawson exclaimed. "Please tell me he didn't call that crackpot in South Dakota."
"If you're talking about Bobby Singer, then yeah, Mac called him yesterday and Bobby called back last night to say he was on his way to Paris. Joe, he's not a crackpot," Richie said. "You didn't hear him. It was amazing, he was able to recite all kinds of stuff off the top of his head. The guy's like a walking encyclopedia of the supernatural."
"Yeah, and I know a guy who can give you a complete breakdown of every Star Trek episode ever aired. Including stardates. But that doesn't make any of it true." Joe put his hand on Richie's shoulder and turned the young man to face him. "Listen, Ellsworth, or Singer or whatever he wants to call himself is several cards shy of a full deck. Richie, the guy burns through more Watchers in a decade than most Immortals do in a century."
"What's that supposed to prove?" the younger Immortal asked.
It was Methos who answered him. "It proves that people who have been trained to observe Immortals under the worst possible conditions can't tolerate being around him for very long. Watcher training isn't easy, Richie. And if they can't last more than a year or two with him, you have to ask yourself why." At Richie's defiant look he sighed. "Ok, we'll talk to the granddaughter. See what she has to say."
"You guys talk to her," Richie snapped. "I've got stuff to do." With that he stalked off leaving Joe and Methos behind to wonder what was happening to their friends.
Chapter 3