Author's note: This is my take on Methos' thoughts after the events of CaH and Rev 6:8. It is written from Methos' PoV and directed straight at the reader. I hope you enjoy this, even though it is the x-hundredth attempt at this special topic ;-)
Oh, and R&R please! I would really love to hear what you think about it.

Reflections

They are dead.

All of them.

My brothers are gone.

I am alone.

But I am still here.

Why am I still here?

Because I am a better person than they were? No. Certainly not.

Because I am the one with the best laid plans? Maybe but I doubt that.

I like to think it is because a good man wanted me to live and that his judgment proves I do have some worth to the world.

Am I thankful for that? Of course, I am. I've lived through five millennia but I still don't want to die. Strange, isn't it? One might think you grow weary of going on and on and on again and that at some point death becomes an inviting thought. Not for me, though. I want to live. I want to gain knowledge. For all that I have seen and done I feel there is still more.

Do I think I deserve it? This mercy on my soul?

I wish I could say I do but I've hated myself for so long, loathed myself for what I've done for so many centuries that I would have to call myself a liar if I answered the question with a yes.

When I told MacLeod the times were different that was a straight out lie. You can't right something so essentially wrong by looking at it from another time or another perspective.

There are certain rules to what is good and what is evil and those rules are universal, unmoving, irrevocable, no matter if you look at them from the Bronze Age, the Dark Ages or the Modern Era.

The world doesn't change, it is only the details that are changing, remember?

Do I mourn the death of my brothers?

In a way, yes, I do. They have been the only family I knew for over a thousand years. In their company I felt sheltered and understood. We have been of the same kind. No matter how much I may have changed, they will always be a part of me.

Silas I will miss the most. He had always been closest to me. Kind of like the youngest sibling who looked up at his older brother with admiration and awe. I always enjoyed his company. We never fought; never in all those centuries. I did have my quarrels with Kronos and Caspian but never with Silas. Ironic that in the end, I was the one who killed him; the one brother Silas always trusted the most.

Sometimes I wonder if he could have led a peaceful life if he hadn't met Kronos. This brute of a man, this dimwitted imbecile, was such a gentle guy at heart. I never asked him what made him enjoy our company, what made him enjoy the killing. I will never have the chance again.

What about Caspian? When I think about him, all that comes to my mind is his unbreakable loyalty to Kronos and his efficiency with his weapon of choice. He had probably been the one who loved the massacres the most and the one with the most kills on his list. I detested him but when he joined the band he was considered useful and so he stayed. We have never been friends. What bound us was our allegiance to Kronos; two men under the same banner. Nothing more. I don't regret that Caspian is gone. In fact, it doesn't even matter to me.

As for Kronos… well, that is an entirely different story. What I feel when I think of Kronos is far more complex.

But lets start at the beginning.

You have to understand that when I first met him I was a very angry man. I hated what I was because it alienated me from everything I craved. I couldn't have a family. I couldn't stay in one place for too long because of the fact that I never aged and I couldn't form relationships because of that very same reason.

I also hated those fearsome, superstitious mortals. Whenever I trusted someone with the secret of my longevity the immediate reaction was disbelief, then fear and eventually they would attempt to get rid of me one way or another. They either believed me to be a god or a demon and neither was a good thing to have in their midst.

I distanced myself as much as possible from the mortals that crossed my way and finally reached a point where I thought them to be nothing more than cattle. They were not worth my attention and the only reason for them to be around was to serve my needs. What were their petty, little lives to me? Twenty years, maybe thirty and they were gone anyway.

I convinced myself that I didn't need their understanding, their love or their acceptance. I was different. I was better. I was superior.

It was that attitude that attracted me to Kronos in the first place. He, too, didn't think too highly about mortals. Like me he saw himself as something special and he was a fellow immortal which made us equals.

I listened to his ramblings about how we were meant to rule the world and it never once occurred to me that there could be something wrong about his mindset. On the contrary, it all seemed to make perfect sense. What was the reason in living forever if not to take power over these flimsy mortals and truly be the god – or demon – they so feared?

It doesn't take a genius to understand that I was thrilled when he offered me to ride with him. I didn't care that his plans to take over the world included the slaughter of innocents. I didn't care for the despair, the hate, the devastation we brought over so many tribes. They were just mortals. They were expendable.

Before long I enjoyed the power we held, the thrill of the hunt and the overwhelming feeling of triumph when we came back to our camp after a successful raid. There were no rules other than those we chose to obey. There were no restraints, no limitations for no one was there who would have dared to impose them on us. This was true freedom. This was what we deserved.

But the power was just a bonus to a far more important thing. I had found a family. I had found people who were just like me and didn't want to fight me for my head. There was no need to pretend to be something else around them. My brothers understood me, accepted me, depended on me like I depended on them.

I knew who I had to thank for that. Kronos offered me the opportunity on a life I never thought possible. In my book, he was my savior. I admired him and I was proud to call him brother.

For a thousand years I was content with our ways. The bond between Kronos and me was strong and seemingly unbreakable. He was my protector and I was his right hand.

Over the course of time I found that I had no ambition to lead and that I also had no ambition to fight my own kind. I did have the talent to scheme, though, a fact that came in quite handy for Kronos some time or another. There was a silent agreement between the two of us that he would keep the immortals off my back that were brave or stupid enough to utter a challenge and I would aid him in his goal to bring death and devastation upon the world.

But all good things have to come to an end and the end came when I found that I was actually able to feel compassion. That I had a conscience.

I don't know when it started or if there had been a certain event that triggered my sense of humanity. All I know is that suddenly the killing sickened me. The feeling of blood on my hands was disgusting. The screams of dying people were no longer music in my ears but a cacophony.

What did I become?

All I ever wanted was to protect myself from harm and now everyone around me needed protection from me. I was an abomination and that had nothing to do with my immortality.

You think Hitler or Genghis Khan were monsters? You haven't seen what I've seen, haven't done what I've done. Those two would have looked like schoolyard bullies compared to us.

My scruples began to eat away at me a little more each passing day. I was looking for a way to get away from my little family that turned from Little House in the Prairie to Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so to speak.

Kronos wouldn't let me, though. He knew my intentions before even I myself truly understood they were there. Time and again he reminded me that I owed him for all he had done for me and so I stayed for a while longer, enduring the suspicion that I suddenly saw in his eyes and the endless tests he put me through to see if I was still his loyal right hand. With each test, each new torture I became more aware of the monster that he was, that we all were, and I began hating him for his inhumanity but still I stayed.

Mainly, because I knew Kronos was the better fighter and I had no doubt he would kill me if I ever made a serious attempt to run.

He took countless heads over those thousand years we rode together whereas I, on the other hand, did not take a single one. And why should I have done that? I had my brother to fight my fights for me. There was no need to participate in a gathering for I had all the protection I could have wished for.

A grave mistake. One I would never repeat again.

I was not strong enough to defeat him.

I never would be.

My only option was to incapacitate him long enough to escape.

Poison is such a lovely invention.

Why I didn't take his head that night, you may wonder. I already had the guts to poison him, hadn't I?

Well, he was my brother after all. The bond was still there. No matter how much I may have hated him by that time, I couldn't have done it. Not to mention that the quickening would have alarmed Silas and Caspian. I could have poisoned them as well but I didn't dare to take that risk.

I had been gone for weeks – months – before, so with a little luck nobody would go after me for quite a while. Maybe long enough so that I could reach a port and board a ship to whatever place it was bound to go.

My flight succeeded. I got away.

The memories, the nightmares, however, would not leave me for centuries. And still, I felt the horsemen were the closest thing to a family I would ever have.

You don't shake that kind of relationship off just like that. We did everything together for a thousand years. We rode together, bled together, died together. It was the most intimate thing you can ever imagine.

So back to the original question. Do I mourn Kronos?

Yes and no. I certainly don't mourn the monster that slaughtered countless people without so much as the blink of an eye. I just as certain don't mourn the man who forced me to betray everything I learned to believe in.

I do mourn the man I met at that tavern in Egypt, though, who took me under his wing and gave me the home I longed for and never had since the beginning. Maybe not even then for I don't remember the beginning. I mourn the brother he was to me when we were still of the same mind, the brother who never let me down when I needed him the most.

I don't know if it makes any sense to you, but hey, you asked and I gave you the answer. As true an answer as I am able to give.

No lies this time?

No. No lies. No half-truths. Just the plain and simple, well, maybe not so simple, truth.

Can you be sure of that?

I don't know. Can you?