Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander or its characters.
AN: Just a little character study sorta thing. Hope you enjoy.
The scent of Blood was heavy on the air, the metallic odor sweet in his nostrils. The beat of his heart quickened with excitement. In his hand was the familiar and pleasant weight of a sword, as it swung through air and flesh indiscriminately. Screams filled the wind rushing past his ears, like music. Hooves beating on blood soaked earth like the invigorating pounding of drums. Blood spattered his face, droplets landing upon his lips. His mouth was filled with the taste of it, sweet as wine. A joyous cackle, of insatiable bloodlust, came from one of the brothers riding at his side. And over all the world, he, Death reigned.
Methos bolted awake, dripping in sweat, heart pounding against the inside of his chest. The horrific laughter had not ceased echoing in his ears, until he realized it was from his own mouth that it issued. Closing his mouth brought an end to it, he raised a hand as though to wipe the stain of it from his lips. The hand came back covered in blood from where the thin skin had broken.
He had parted from that life so long ago, and still it haunted him. He told himself he'd changed, yet these dreams remained to echo back the enjoyment of that time.
"-We've lived without this for 2,000 years."
"And for 2,000 years I have dreamed of when we will ride again." Silas responded, a glint flickering in his eyes as he turned back to look kindly at the monkeys.
Methos knew this was true of all four of them. He hoped his dreams sat far less sweetly in the heart and mind than theirs, that some part of him had indeed changed. Or was his fondness for those he now called friend no more than Silas' fondness for those monkeys? The time was near when he'd have to answer that for himself.