by L.B.

--There is a belief that humanity is nothing more than the sum of its stories. And if the stories are terrifying enough to wake you up at night to scream?

Some few believe that across the land, across the millennia she searched for her lost lover, who abandoned her in despair. And fewer say she found him. More believe it is she who left him, and some say that he sent three angels to fetch her home again. Intoxicated by freedom, she refused. Perhaps she consorted with demons on the shore of a sea with no horizons. And perhaps she bore children there; a hundred times a thousand. Those who tell this story say that the angels kill a hundred of these children with the dawn. And a hundred more with every dawn she keeps her freedom sacred. And in some stories her anger spills out and she takes the lives of the youngest mortal children in vengeance... Then they call her demon. But what if she were no demon, just a woman in a body that was too young for her, wandering in a dream she couldn't awaken from? What if she wasn't ever free at all? And if she met her lost lover again, on the horizon that wasn't there, which story would be true? And would it even matter? -- Excerpt from the journals of Tinat, in regards to Lillith

MacLeod knew he was dreaming. He sat in a lotus in one of the felt huts the Mongols favored. The smell of smoke and horse thickened the air. All he knew for sure was that he waiting for someone. And then she was there.

He tried to analyze what it was that was so frightening about Lillith and came up with a blank. She was a woman of slightly more than average height and fine bone structure. Pale hair and paler skin and eyes like the inside of a glacier. The color of bleached bone in the moonlight. Objectively, she was beautiful in a chilly way.

He might have suggested she was too good at hiding her emotions, except she didn't. Lillith hid information, nothing else. The terror he felt was atavistic, illogical. It nearly consumed him.

"What are you doing here, MacLeod?" She sounded slightly surprised and more annoyed.

"I think I'm dreaming." He found a voice that didn't shake.

"Dreaming?" She laughed. "Do you know -- no, of course you don't."

"I don't understand."

"I suppose not. Don't try too hard to understand," She sat down in front of him. "Or you'll pay more than you thought was possible."

"What game are you playing, Lillith? Why the lies?" he whispered.

"Maybe it amuses me." There was no amusement in her face. No pleasure.

"Does it?" He needed to know, but she didn't answer. After a moment that was stretched too thin she seemed to come to a decision.

"No, it doesn't. Know anything about Zoroastrians, MacLeod?" Her words were incongruous. He found himself drowning in her eyes. It was a cold, horrible way to die.

"Excuse me? You mean the Old Persian religion? Ahura Mazda and Ahriman?" he asked.

"The Truth and the Lie." She nodded, almost to herself. "Do you know what they call me, MacLeod?"

"Demoness. Queen of Serpents. Mother of Lies. Are you telling me you believe in that?" he said, incredulously.

"Well, I'm not a good catholic, if that's what you're asking. Why are you afraid of me?" He started to deny it and stopped at the look in her eyes.

" I don't know," he muttered.

"Come on, think. What is so horrible in my eyes, that even Kronos of the Horsemen could barely meet them?"

"I don't know!" he cried.

"No? But there is a reason... no smoke without fire and all that. Let's just say I bore a child when I shouldn't have." She smiled bitterly. Somehow he knew it shouldn't make sense, but in the dream world it did.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. She shrugged.

"No more time. It can listen to us." He opened his mouth to reply, but she hushed him again. "You have to go, now. Ahriman is coming. If you remember what I told you when you wake, tell Tinat." Before the world turned red he realized something. Lillith was afraid.

"What are you talking about? What do you mean Ahriman?" Frustration battled fear.

"Not what Zarathustra thought it was, but it is something. It thinks it is the worst evil in this world, but that is also a lie. I know, it is my blood that--" She focused on something behind him. He turned around and saw it. And it saw him.

Duncan MacLeod woke up screaming. Within an hour he had forgotten everything.

Once, long ago, there had been a castle in deep, thick forest in Brittany. Then there was a cave on a cliff above the pounding Atlantic. Then a monastery was built to defend the treasure. It had been invaded and pillaged until even the monks gave it up on it. But the true treasure it contained was never recognized or removed. For ten centuries it lay almost empty.

Three Queens of surpassing power defended the treasure. They were less than Goddesses and far more than mortals or even immortals. Viviane du Luc. Morgan Le Fay. Gwenhwyfar of Lyonesse. Doomed to keep the grail until it was needed again.

For ten centuries seekers trickled to the monastery. Some of them gained something. Mostly they lost. And then someone came who was more than mortal, and maybe more than divine.

The visitor's appearance had changed over the years. She was dressed in smooth leathers and a astonishingly fine weave of heavy cloth. A sweater, jeans, and a bomber jacket. The white-blond hair was twisted into a ponytail and the cheekbones were even more pronounced then usual. The ears were loaded with metal jewelry and the face bore subtle paint that would once have marked the wearer as a harlot. Apparently starvation was fashionable this century, because the visitor looked like whipcord, muscle, and little else. Her eyes were the color of the northern sky and as full of warmth and emotion as a mirror.

Viviane du Luc, Lady of the Lake, met Lillith the Huntress, Mother of the Lilim, at the gates of her home and she was afraid. This meeting had been foretold.

"Who are you? Whom do you serve?" she spoke the ritual challenge.

"Skip the nonsense, Viviane. I found the thing you guard a hundred thousand years before you were born." Lillith showed her sharp, white teeth.

"Then what is your purpose?" Viviane found the place inside her were the Lake rested. She drifted in the calm of it.

"Actually, I came to talk to you." Lillith's smile widened.

"No one comes here just to talk, Mother of Lies." Except for once, and she would not be returning.

"Someone did, once. But then, you offered her more than talk." Pale eyes met Vivane's black. And she read her own guilt in them.

"How is she?" Viviane forced out the words.

"Happy enough. In love. Or admitting to a love she always felt." Lillith spoke deliberately, as if she knew how much the words hurt. She did.

"Oh." A moment of silence. "What do you want from me?" she cried.

"Humanity enjoys personifying evil. It is an easy thing to do." She ran a hand through pale hair. "We thought it was possible to take the evil, the dark, from inside of us and put it aside." Her fingers tightened.

"The Sumerians called me the Mother of Demons. Mother of the Lie. They were right, Gods help us all."

"I know this much, Lillith." Viviane interrupted. It was a story that gave her nightmares sometimes.

"Do you? I'd thought you might." Lillith turned away, as if there might be some comfort in the turbulent water. There wasn't. Not for her.

"You still haven't told me what you want from me."

"I will need the power that you bear," she said.

"Why should I grant you that after what you allowed?" Viviane met the pained eyes.

"Because a champion has been chosen inadvertently. He's a youngling and has no idea what he is up against."

"So tell him the truth." Viviane was merciless.

"You think he is ready for my Truth? As ready as you were for Tinat's?" Viviane flinched.

"Does she hate me so much?" she whispered.

"The poor girl is still in love with you. Will you help me?" Lillith held out her pale hand.

"Yes. Because I still love her too." Viviane took the chilly fingers in hers and thought of sun warmed copper fingers.

Joe Dawson stepped out of the cab and paid the driver. He wondered briefly how he'd managed to get himself talked into this. Introducing oneself to a strange immortal was not exactly standard watcher procedure.

Of course most of the procedure had been laid down by the founder, one Lady Lillith of Serpents, the same person who had sent him on this little side trip.

He brushed the thoughts aside and knocked on the door in front of him. A tall man, similar in build to MacLeod. But the similarities ended there. For one thing the man's hair was dyed in streaks of green and orange.

" M. Lorraine, I presume." The far too green eyes widened under the hair. The man's current alias was Stefan Aramat. But the Chevalier Lorraine had fought with Charles Martel against the Moors centuries ago.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"The name is Joe Dawson. I'm an agent for Lilly Serpentil." One orange eyebrow lifted.

"Come in, then. I'd been given to understand the Lady was dead." The man ushered him inside. Yeah, Lorraine and everyone else had been sure the Lady was dead.

"Serpents aren't that easy to kill," Joe said.

"Most things die when you cut their heads off, M. Dawson." The man's eyes were challenging.

"She told me to send her congratulations on your marriage. She says you and Ahset where meant for each other, like iron and a Hatti witch." Joe smiled at the man's pale face. From the corridor someone was clapping.

"Congratulations, M. Dawson, you've managed to shock our Lorraine. He's much too complacent for a such a young thing." Joe caught his first sight of Ahset the Hatti. She had the sharp features and small form of a Hittite, but without color. Frosted hair and skin. Red eyes. He wondered how an albino women had survived the superstition of the past and decided it wasn't something he wanted to know.

"What would you know? You're young enough for the company you keep." He smiled fondly at his wife.

"And you are being rude to our guest. Would you like something to drink M. Dawson? Perhaps some scotch?" Her pale lips turned in the ghost of a smile.

"Call me, Joe. Scotch would be fine." She drifted out of the room, leaving him to Lorraine's slightly baffled, if very happy, stare.

"I can't believe she's alive. Why didn't she come herself?" A reaction very similar to Tinat's, if much more polite.

"Lillith went to see a Guardian. She wants to meet with all of you."

Lorraine bit his lip. "A Guardian? What in Sun's name for? I thought that was more Shai's department."

Dawson shook his head. "I'm sorry, but he… didn't make it."

Ahset chose that moment to return with the scotch. "How?" she demanded.

"A mad woman. Tinat took care of her." Never mind the details for now.

"Tinat." Ahset frowned. "Was that a good idea?"

"What do you mean?" Joe asked.

"It doesn't matter, now. Tell us what Lillith wants." So he told them what the Serpent had in mind. Amazingly enough, they agreed to go through with it.

"These things are really safe?" Viviane gave the planes on the runway a glance that couldn't begin to convey her doubt.

"Of course. That's what you get for spending your life in a cave protecting the grail. Ignorant."

"Ha." She was silent for a moment. "Does she ever think of me?"

"If you loved her so much, you shouldn't have turned her away." Viviane was silent for the rest of the flight.

MacLeod found the world's oldest semi-normal immortal sitting in a lotus position outside of Tinat's apartment. He grinned up at Mac.

"So, Mac, what's new?" MacLeod just stared at him for a second.

"I'm not even going to ask," he said. Then he reached for his key.

"Mac, I wouldn't--" He was greeted by an eardrum destroying blast of sound.

He slammed the door as fast as he could, and held his aching head.

"Damn, those are great speakers. And you wondered why she soundproofs her place?" Methos shook his head painfully.

"Not anymore. Methos, why?" What could possibly possess a woman of that much age and apparent maturity?

"She says it helps her meditate. You want to argue, go ahead." MacLeod knew better.

"It helps her *meditate?" he demanded.

"Hey, you think the collected work of Nine Inch Nails is bad? Before they set this kind of thing to music she used to hire people to clang iron and break glass in her courtyard. Before that it was just rocks and drums. For hours on end." Methos shuddered.

"You know I used to wonder why you waited so long to take her to bed. Not anymore. How long do you think she'll be, um, meditating?" He risked a hopeful glance at Methos.

"Depends. She says it helps her assimilate a Quickening." Methos looked away and MacLeod shuddered. Cassandra's personality had not been easy to take in and Tinat never should have had to take her head. Might never have had to, if MacLeod hadn't interfered.

"Oh," he whispered.

"Right. Might be here a while. Maybe you want to get me a cup of coffee?" A cherry grin lit up Methos' narrow face. It sent shivers up MacLeod's spine.

The elevator opened and someone stepped into the hall. It was a dark haired young woman in jeans and a white blouse made of an odd material.

"Wow," Methos muttered. "Didn't know they still made clothes out of Sammite."

She strode purposefully down the hall, looking at the apartment numbers. Somehow, MacLeod wasn't too surprised when she stopped in front of them.

"It's no good ringing the bell, she's meditating," Methos said. The woman glanced down at him and MacLeod got a look at her eyes. They were dark, with a depth of calm he hadn't seen since Darius was murdered. But this girl was no immortal.

"Really? I don't hear the noise." Her voice was light and musical.

"Soundproofing," MacLeod explained.

"They can do that now? Would have killed for some back when--"

Methos stood up and interrupted her pleasantly. "Excuse me, but I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, yes." She blushed. "It's Viviane. Viviane du Luc. You're Me- Adam Pierson, right?"

Methos looked her up and down, leaned back against the wall and burst out laughing. Then the apartment door opened, so the noise drowned out everything anyone might have tried to say. A hand grabbed Viviane's wrist and dragged her bodily inside. Methos calmly sat back down and continued his meditation.

Joe arrived at Seacouver International Airport about five minutes after midnight. He spent twenty minutes waiting in line at customs, and another twenty trying to collecting his suitcase in the face of a hundred or so cranky, exhausted victims of the wonderfully snug airplane seats. After clearing the restricted area, he tried to catch sight of white blond hair, but she wasn't in sight.

He nearly dropped his bag when a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Hello, Joseph. How did it go?" Lillith's eerily lovely face was less than inch from his ear.

"You mean before somebody tried to give me a heart attack?" he growled.

"If you like." She smiled sweetly.

"It went fine. Ahset thinks you're a fool and Lorraine thinks it's a brilliant plan. Exactly what he would do in your place." Ahset struck him as a very intelligent woman. Lorraine was Tinat's type, with bells on.

"Yeah? Viviane thought I wasn't too sound when she heard the plan. But she knows what's at stake." Ice eyes narrowed.

"And I think I deserve to know, Serpent." She covered her face with her hand for a second and sighed.

"You're right. It's just harder than I thought it would be."

"Let me take you home. We can talk there." Concern tinged his voice. She looked pale and far too young and that terrified him more than anything else could have.

"Yes. We'll do that." He took her cold fingers in his and wondered when she had learned to be afraid.

"Lillith?" He placed the scalding coffee in her hands.

"It's hard, Joseph. I was such a fool." He flinched from the anger she directed at herself. Someone had hurt her, probably someone in the long buried past. Maybe him.

"I've never known you to be foolish. Arrogant as hell, but never a fool." Her lips twitched a little and he felt rewarded.

"Could you... would you just hold me? It's been so long." He was struck by how much of her apparent age was sheer force of personality. With a sigh he took the oldest woman in the world in his arms, as if he could somehow warm the chilly skin. Her pale hair smelled of ocean water, old books, and sweet wine.

She nestled in his arms and opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it wordlessly. And the worst was the knowledge of just how helpless he was to do anything for her. But when she kissed him, he allowed himself to forget, to be lost in the cold strength of her body.

Joe woke in the pre-dawn hours to a cold, empty bed. For a few moments he thought he'd dreamed her, but her scent lingered on the sheets. He stretched on the bed until he heard the noise from the patio that had awoken him. After he raised the energy to move he pushed himself into his wheelchair to investigate.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the specter in the moonlight to resolve into Lillith. She was naked and stray light turned her pale skin translucent. It took him nearly thirty seconds to realize that she was calmly opening a vein and letting the blood spurt onto the floor.

"Lillith!" he cried, rushing to her, grabbing at her hands. She pulled himself from his grip.

"Hush, Adam. You mustn't interrupt me, I'm nearly done." Her stained fingers traced patterns in blood on the floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Don't you remember what Old Oak said? A demon is afraid of life. Blood is life." He grabbed her wrist before she could slice into it again.

"There are no demons, Lillith." He hoped that wasn't wishful thinking.

"There are, Adam. Demons in the dark, promising things... It's cold when they crawl into your skin." She shivered violently, pupils dilating as the blood loss took hold.

"You're going into shock, Lillith. Stop this, please," he begged, hating the chair, hating his pathetic legs for not being there. She looked down at him, in his chair and he shivered at the utter emptiness in her expression.

"They can crawl into your skin and give you anything. They could make you walk again. They gave me a baby and it hurt so much." She slipped on to the floor, the shuddering continued.

"Hush, you don't what you're saying. Let me get you inside."

"I'm cold, Joseph. When are we?" Her fingers convulsed against his knee.

"Hush," He whispered, and pulled the too light body on to his chair.

"When are we? I can't tell what year it is. Why am so cold? Is there a leak in the pressure seal?" Her voice slipped into a language he didn't recognize. And back again.

"Do you see it, Joe? The future with stars? I picked that one, though I hardly knew what it meant then. I picked that one so long ago, and now it's almost here. I'm cold, but can't I wait long enough to see stars?"

"You're dreaming, aren't you?" he said.

"But I'm the Oracle. I'm always dreaming, even when I'm awake. Why won't you tell me when we are?" Her eyelids fluttered as she slipped into unconsciousness rapidly followed by the stiffness of death.

"It's 1997, Lillith. Oh God, what the hell happened to you?" He took her into the house and lay her on the bed. She'd probably have an iron craving when she... woke up. He went to fix her something.

He came back to find her awake, staring at her own bloodstained fingers. She smiled ruefully at him.

"Sorry about that. I should have warned you."

"This kind of thing happen often?" He put a tray in front of her, and she glanced at the food as if she didn't remember what it was for.

"Often enough. I am sorry, I'd hoped it would be different this time." Tension teased at the edges of her mouth.

"It's okay." Except it wasn't. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I had a vision. I saw... you wouldn't understand." Her fingers tightened into a fist and convulsed.

"What do you want Lillith?" Joe was suddenly angry.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you want from me? You obviously don't trust me. It can't be a cheap lay; you could find a man without any missing pieces in any bar for that. Is it for the past? That's gone and you know I'm not the same person." She made as if to speak.

"No, Lillith. I know you can come with some pretty reason in less than ten seconds. I want the truth if you can even remember what that is. Is it for the watchers?" She backed away shaking her head. Then she stopped suddenly, pale eyes as frozen as he'd ever seen them.

"You can believe what you'd like, I can't stop you." She turned away. If she left now he knew she wouldn't soon forgive. He sighed and brushed his fingers across her chin, finally cupping it in his hand. Very gently he brought his lips to hers.

"Oh, Lillith..." He whispered against her cool lips. Her response was nearly as desperate as it was unexpected. Her tongue slipped between his teeth almost instantly inciting the blood to his groin. He shivered as her mouth warmed against him.

"No." Joe pulled back with an effort. "This won't make it any better, Lilly."

"Lilly? Lilly?!" He almost grinned at her startled laugh. "Do I look like a Lilly?"

"You look like lilies in the snow," he said. She threw her head back and laughed harder.

"I've been called a lot of things, Joseph Dawson, but never a flower. Only you would say such a thing." She shook her head.

"Is that good?" He dared to lay a hand on her hair and stroke.

"I'm here, aren't I?" She leaned into his touch like cat.

"Yes, you are. But I'm not playing games, I don't need any one night stands."

"Relax, I haven't had a one night stand in at least fifty years now. And even then it wasn't with a total stranger."

"Oh," He raised a brow. "Who?"

"Methos. We were drunk. Very, very drunk. He'd just gotten back from Tinat's last wedding and was trying like hell to pretend he wasn't jealous."

"I always thought he was like a son to you."

"He is. What's your point?" She grinned airily and he couldn't think of a single thing to say beyond the obvious.

"Not exactly mother child-behavior."

"In the here and now? No, it isn't. But then he's not really mine, and even if he were it's not like we would be having children together." She shrugged it off, as if wasn't important. It was that simple incomprehension that made Joe wonder if he could ever have a real relationship with this woman. And what it would cost him if he did.

"You still haven't answered my question." He pointed out, after a moment.

"Maybe I'm tired of being alone. I don't know, is it so bad to want someone?" Old, blue-gray eyes searched his and he found he couldn't refuse her plea.

"Of course not. What can I do to help?"

She stared at him for a long moment and then started laughing. Her laughter was painfully bitter. The tears of someone who has long forgotten how to cry.

"Where are the other two musketeers?" Tinat had turned the music off and the silence was deafening.

"What?" Viviane looked up from a thorough examination of her shoes. Not that they weren't interesting shoes.

"Morgan and Gwenhwyfar? Are they still guarding the corpse you've been lugging about?" Tinat's golden eyes challenged her.

"I've never heard Arthur described in quite that way, but yes, they are." The Lady of the Lake smiled uncertainly.

"Why are you here? And don't say it was because Lillith sent you."

"What makes you think I was going to say that?" Viviane managed to sound genuinely curious.

"Lucky guess." Tinat sneered.

"Because there is something abroad in this world that shouldn't be. And..." She stopped and looked away.

"Yes?" Tinat was unrelenting.

"I missed you. It could be that I have... wronged you. I love you. Perhaps I should apologize?"

"Did you know you were insane, Viviane?" Tinat laughed.

"Do you think so? Insane enough to interest you?"

"I'm with someone." The red haired woman shook her head.

"Methos, I know. And he loves only you?" With the look of one who already knows the answer.

"I guess Lillith's filled you in." Tinat breathed in, hard. "It's not that I'm angry at you. It's really not. But I trusted you and you didn't feel the same."

"Trust me? You lied to me." Viviane strove against the anger.

"About what? Was a supposed to write you a bloody resume or something? Maybe it should have been written on my forehead or something? Tinat is a killer and a whore, keep clear? Well fuck that."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to know why you're here."

"Oh, sweet Goddess, I've messed this up. I'm sorry. I was an idiot, a shallow, judgmental bitch and I threw away the best thing that I ever had. I know it will never be the same as it was, but can you forgive me?"

"Is that why you're here? To say your *sorry?" Utter lack of comprehension made Tinat's face a blank.

"Why is that so inconceivable? It wasn't your fault." Viviane said. Tinat shook her head.

"I never thought I'd be hearing you say that. Thought you were perfect." She shrugged her shoulders and remembered.

The forest choked in winter silence. Tinat pulled her ragged cloak tight against the wind's teeth. She had been traveling for the better part of two weeks and her sincerest wish was to have stolen a better quality of clothing, but it wasn't that bad. There were holes in her clothes, but the holes in her mind were worse.

A stray rock thrust itself under her foot and she went careening into a tree. She missed winter in Babylon, when the rains came and the land began to flower. Damn the Turks, anyway.

She had to concentrate on the road. It had been more than a thousand years since she had sought out this path. Then it had been little more than a diversion... a joke. The Grail. Then, it had been summer and Methos waited in Londinium with cold ale and mulled wine.

Cold bit through her bones and she shook under the assault, like she had under the torture's blade. His blade. Her own sword was lost. For an instant she considered sitting down in the snow, letting it cover her. She could wake with the summer thaw. But no, she was too close, and that kind of death would bring dreams.

She scanned the trees, willing the path to open up to her. The castle and the cave and Viviane. And then it did.

"Who-- Tinat? For the Lady's sake, come in." Warm hands closed around her shoulders and she was pulled inside.

"I'm sorry, Viviane. To trouble you but... you said I could come here if I needed. To rest."

"Of course. It's not like I get that many visitors. Come on, let's get you to the fire." The hands gentled her and pulled her to a seat before the hearth. "I know the answer, now. What I am, what I want. I couldn't get you out of my mind," she whispered. Then Tinat fell into the darkness, stalked by cold and pain the whole way down.

"A lot of people think I'm perfect. It's what they picked me for." Her voice was a bit cold.

"So?"

"Maybe I thought you knew better. You managed to see Lillith as a human woman instead of a symbol, maybe I thought you could stretch and do the same for me," she cried.

"I don't fuck symbols, Lady of the Lake. Not even beautiful ones." She turned away. "And I wasn't the only one who committed the sin of idealization."

"I said I was sorry, for whatever that's worth."

"Sometimes, I don't know which was harder Robert Karof and his little chamber of horrors or you."

"If I said that wasn't fair, would you bother to acknowledge it?"

"Shut up, Viviane." Tinat pushed herself off her chair and to her friend's side. Then she claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. An unnaturally skilled tongue slipped between Viviane's teeth.

"You think this will solve anything?" Viviane demanded, as soon as she had breath again.

"It will make me feel better. When I'm in a good mood, who knows?" Tinat's smug grin demanded a response. She got one. Her cheek reddened from the blow.

"That's what I am to you?" Viviane cried.

"Hello... I didn't know you got angry. You look good angry." Tinat grinned. Viviane managed to restrain herself this time.

"I'm not angry," she fumed.

"Oh?" Tinat arched an eyebrow.

After a brief moment of frustration, Viviane found a more than adequate way to wipe off her lover's smug expression.

Serpent scanned the gathered immortals. Most of them had never seen or felt... whatever it was... before. The thing that happened when an immortal lost a head. It was like fire from the sky. Like the feeling that quickened in her stomach right before she orgasmed. Quickening. That was it. She smiled to herself.

The boy who had taken the Old One's head stood up. Serpent was vaguely surprised to realize she understood his language. And that of all the others.

Even then, she couldn't have said what exactly he told them. Only that it was something very wise and bright, the echo of the idea which made a hundred thousand years in this world bearable. On some days she wondered why the idea had been forgotten. But the worst came when she forgot it herself.

But on this day, the sun shone brightly though the air had the faint tang of rain. For a reason she could never determine later her Sight was closed, and for one of the few times in her life, Serpent existed in a world with only a past and present. It pleased her.

Serpent cut herself a walking stick and decided to see if the world had made any new wonders since she had last traveled it. It took her nearly a month to wander down to the banks of the Red Sea. And once again, everything changed.

The sea was narrower in those days, but she didn't really feel like the idea of swimming across it. She stopped in a small fishing village, marveling briefly at the idea of people who had lived their whole lives in one place. Even odder, they had discovered that putting certain parts of plants back into the ground insured that more of such would grow in the next year.

After much deliberation, it was decided that this stranger could be taught the art of building boats on the condition that she brought harvests to the village for a year and taught them her methods of hunting larger animals. Serpent agreed, eager to learn a new form of the hunt.

Her days were spent in the sun and on the water, and if the work was hard, it was no more than she had been accustomed to. The village women invited her into the ceremonies and the eldest even tried to find her a mate. But for reasons she didn't understand, she refused that offer.

When her year passed, she set sail and didn't look back.

Joe wasn't particularly surprised when Lillith seemed to have completely forgotten last night's break down. He probably should have been, but he wasn't.

She cheerily claimed the shower and started making coffee long before any sane person had even thought of waking up. He groaned when she threw the drapes open, letting the painful sunlight flood the room.

"Good morning. I've made us breakfast. I hope you like eggs." He decided against attempted homicide, but it was a close thing.

"Somehow, I never figured you for a morning person," he muttered into his pillow.

"What was that?" She put a tray in front of him. The food did smell unnaturally good.

"Nothing. How are you feeling?" he asked delicately. She shivered.

"I'll be fine. For better or for worse, this game is almost over."

"Sure about that?" he persisted.

"You can be a stubborn bastard, Joseph. Now eat, or I'll think you don't appreciate me."

"Anything but that, Lilly." They shared a brief grin, before returning to the truly important matter of food.

((I didn't think so.)) The thick triumph in it made him want to gag. He gathered his courage when the waters stilled. Then he jumped.

MacLeod woke up wrapped in a pair of long arms and smiled briefly. Methos' head was tucked against his chest, his ancient, youthful face as close to peace as it ever could be.

He stirred and the hazel eyes opened, a brief flicker of fear in them that passed when he identified his surroundings.

"You alright?" MacLeod asked.

"Fine. I just had an... odd dream." His lover smiled and stretched against the sheets. MacLeod ran a hand over his smooth skin, marveling anew at the texture.

The ringing of the telephone startled them out of their amusements.

"Hello?" MacLeod managed to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Hello, MacLeod. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." A woman's voice, full of something that he might have called mischief.

"Lillith?" he gasped.

"What?!" Methos sat straight up, shocked out of his languor. MacLeod wordlessly handed him the phone.

"Lillith," he stated blandly.

"Methos. I suppose I owe you an explanation." She sounded tired, and a little guilty. In his not particularly humble opinion she certainly deserved to feel guilty.

"You suppose that, do you?" he asked sweetly.

"Meet me at Joe's in an hour. And if you see anything vaguely unusual, hurt it." The phone hung up with a click.

Methos stared at it blankly for a long moment.

"MacLeod, do I do that to you?" he muttered.

"What?" His lover grinned.

"That." He gestured to the dead phone.

"Don't worry. I like you anyway." MacLeod smiled.

"I'll be better, I swear."

"Can I hold you to that?"

"Gods, no."

"Figures."

"Do you know I was there when they invented beer? Well one of the theys, anyway. Horrific tasting stuff." Lillith fiddled with her empty glass.

"So that's improved." Joe grinned and poured her another.

"Beer making has definitely passed its peak, you should have seen what the Egyptians could do... but yeah, it has improved since the Stone Age. Now hunting..." She shook her head mournfully.

"Let me guess, they took all the fun out of it," he suggested.

"Sure. What good is it if that which you hunt can never get its own back. Besides, they cheat now." She swallowed most of the contents of her beer before he could blink.

"You mean guns?" he asked.

"What?" She blinked. "Oh, no! I mean metal. I've always been against it."

"She means metal," he repeated wonderingly.

"If it makes you feel better, you've lived through most of the same nonsense I have, you just don't remember most of it." It didn't make him feel better. Not at all.

"The reincarnation thing again?" He sighed. He wasn't sure whether those memories pleased him or not.

"A little hard to wrap your mind around, I suppose." As if she didn't know. Probably already knew what his reaction would be ten years before he was born. Or earlier.

"You suppose that, do you?" he said, at last. After a moments consideration he decided beer just wasn't doing it and dug up something harder.

"So this is the moment when you reveal your deep dark secret. Or at least the twenty four hour period?" he asked, after the silence grew too thick.

"More or less." She shrugged. "I'd rather not have to tell this story twice, though. Every time I think I have the courage..." She shook her head. He didn't say a word, just took her hand. She flung herself into his arms with a strength and suddenness that shocked him. He rocked her gently, trying to convey what he felt without words. They clung like that until the doors swung open.

"Hello, Lillith." Tinat greeted the woman she had called mother. A step behind her was a dark haired young woman who radiated a kind of peace Joe hadn't believed existed in this world. She gave a long look at Tinat and Lillith before stepping back outside.

"If it helps I'm sorry, Tinat. More than you can imagine." The pale woman reached out a hand to Tinat.

"I could kill you twice for you put Methos and I through." Pained golden eyes demanded an explanation.

"Methos and should be here soon enough. Then I'll tell you what we're up against," she said. She held out a hand.

"Pretty sure of yourself, Lillith. Maybe too sure of me. You at least could have shown yourself to me when you were playing ghost." The offered hand was ignored.

"You would have demanded the truth and I wasn't ready to face that." She covered her face with an abrupt motion. "There is… a… a blackness in my Sight. There are paths closed to me. I've felt this only once before... something I swore I would die before I faced again." Icy eyes met Tinat's. They younger woman flinched under an emotional assault only she could feel.

"Don't you ever die on me again. Understand me, Mama?" She grasped the pale hand tightly. The older woman sighed and let herself draw on the strength offered.

"Always, my daughter. A drink?" She smiled.

"Or thirty." Joe started the tap without being asked. Immortals and alcohol were notorious.

He muttered something incoherent under his breath. "Is this really necessary?"

She smiled uncertainly and ran a hand through her hair. "No, I suppose not. It's just been a very trying week, and I don't really… get out much these days."

"Right. Let's try this again. I'm Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, it is my distinct and humble pleasure to meet you, milady." He bowed deeply.

"Viviane du Luc. It's rare to meet so goodly a gentleman in these sad, uncouth times, Duncan MacLeod." She smiled, and her unruffled serenity was firmly back in place.

"That's a familiar name. If I might ask--"

"Yes, I am. Straight out of the Arthurian Legend, though most of that is just nonsense," she said. He couldn't resist the urge to smile back at her.

"Och, is it now?" The brouge slipped into his voice as he let down his guard.

"I'd say so. I got off pretty well, but I think most of the story is just there to blacken poor Morgan's name. For one thing the alleged Queen of Air and Darkness is a blue eyed blonde who's more interested in the sharp edge of her sword then any spell devised."

"As opposed to you?" He questioned, suddenly serious. Viviane instantly caught the change in tone.

"We all have our strengths and weaknesses," she replied steadily.

"Viviane, what's going on? I've been having dreams, but I can never remember them. A red mist. A terrible evil. Lillith. It all comes back to her. Three hundred years ago I'd have said this whole mess stunk of sorcery."

"And you would have been more right than you know. I promise you at least a good idea of what's happening now, Gods know you're involved enough to need it. If it were me I'd give you all of it, but some things are so damn personal." Seeing her face, he couldn't doubt her sincerity. At least he couldn't have if he hadn't known people like Methos or Tinat who could lie without blinking.

But if it were Methos, a lie of this nature would mean that the truth wouldn't be forthcoming under any circumstances. "Alright then. I don't suppose you know any really humiliating stories about Tinat."

"Are you kidding? The dragon lady herself. She's hang, draw, and quarter me. Talk to Methos."