~1683~

Life wasn't easy for Owen growing up. As a child he always heard the others boys taunt him with the fact his Father was an outcast. But his Father always told him not to mind the idiots, if they couldn't get past that then there was no point in bothering with them. Then one day he came home after getting into a fight with those same boys for saying the same thing. Owen was sure his father was going to beat him for not listening to him. Instead he sat Owen down and told him. "I am proud of you for defending the family's honor. But you have to learn to fight only when you have too and not before. Trust me you'll live longer." Owen looked up to his Father, he was always strong, upbeat. Never once did he admit about being depressed or angry about being forced out of his clan. But as he listened to him talk about his old village Owen could see that he did, just by that far off look in his eyes. Then at the age of ten a great big hole was knocked into his world when Owen and his mother lost him when he went out at sea. He quickly assumed the mantle of man of the house because that was what his Father would have done. Never once showing any signs that he missed him, although he did terribly.

When he was older he had to take care of his mother more and more. It seemed like she wouldn't admit that he was never coming home and it was eating her away inside. His head was telling him to make her see the truth, but his heart wouldn't let him. She was suffering enough, if clinging on to this last piece of hope was keeping her going then he wasn't going to deny her it. Truth be told part of him hoped she was right. But through it all he found love in Deborah. She was one of the few people who looked past the stigma of his Father's outcast status and the rumors of dementia in his Mother and only saw him. Owen burden seemed to grow lighter when he was around here. Even his Mother seemed like her old self when she was around. Despite the objections of her Father they married.

Five years after they wed Owen grew a little lighter attitude, feeling normal for the first time in his life. Everyone said Deborah had a good affect on him and he was hard pressed to disagree. Things were going good, he took up his Father old position as fisherman since they lived near the coast and the catch was usually a good one. While most of the village was happy for them, some spoke that there was something missing behind their backs. There were times both of them felt that missing piece as well, looking at the new parents every year. But they tried not to it let it affect them too much. They knew they would be blessed with a child sooner or later. Not that the subject didn't come up every so often. They were walking in the woods one day when Deborah said, "So when are you going to give me children? My Mother is starting at it again."

"Well I hope you told her it hasn't been for a lack of trying," Owen told her.

Her jaw dropped, "Owen McAllister, I can't saw that to my Mother. I'm starting to think the town is right that you have a little of the devil in you."

"They said that about my Father for years," Owen said. "Although," he said looking a little deeper into the woods and hearing the sounds of the river, "I do believe I'm in the mood to try again," and he started pulling her toward the sound of the river.

"Owen we're out in the open!", She protested, but she wasn't really resisting.

"Then we better hurry before somebody comes along," he said pulling her off the path and into the trees. They found an open area by the bank. Owen quickly dropped to the ground. Propping himself up on his elbows he told her, "Well hurry up woman I haven't got all day."

"You do have the devil in you," she said with a laugh. She got on the ground with him and started kissing him. Soon his hands found the familiar curves of her body.

"Well ain't this nice."

Owen and Deborah both looked up and saw three rough looking characters sneering at them. Owen, looking right at the dagger on the ones' waist, got up and pushed her back, "Stay behind me Deborah."

"How sweet," the apparent leader said coming foreword. "Now you're trespassing on our land, so you'll have to pay. Gold or a taste of your woman would do nicely." Owen pushed her farther back. "Looks like the boy doesn't want to pay. Take it from him."

The other two came at him looking like they were going to enjoy every second of this. Owens' hand found a sizable rock about the size of his fist. With everything he had Owen smashed it against the side of the closest ones head. He went down in a heap as Owen turned his attention to the other one. The leader ran in and tackled him to the ground. Deborah tried to pull him off of her husband but a backhand knocked her down. A solid punch to the bandit's face got him of Owen. Pulling Deborah to her feet he yelled, "Run woman!"

The leader grabbed him around the neck while his back was turned and threw him in the river. The other one grabbed a hold oh Deborah and threw her to the ground. She screamed for all she was worth. Owen tried to go to her but the ring leader knocked him down. Wrapping both hands around Owens' neck he held his head under the water. Owen pounded away at his arm, trying to get free. One hand did leave his neck and he fought harder. His mouth opened as he tried to scream after that dagger plunged into his chest. The ring leader stabbed him again and again as the water around him went dark red. Through the haze and blackness he saw the shadows pull his attacker off of him. His world went black as the current of the river took his body away.

Owen woke back up with a start in near darkness. Everything felt different, looked different, seemed different. He grabbed his head as he felt a weird sensation right before his stomach started to twist in knots. Looking around he saw an older man with weathered skin sit by a small fire. A broadsword was close by his side. Not looking in his direction he said, "Finally you're up." He started toward him and Owen tried to back away. "Relax boyo," he said, "if I wanted you dead you wouldn't be breathing right now."

"Who are you?", he demanded. "Where am I?" Owen remembered everything at that moment. Looking at the holes in his shirt he felt sick, "What sort of devilry is this?"

"Maybe it is, none of us can truly say." He said with some mirth. "But I can say you and I are more alike than you think. And my name is Finlay."

"I need to get back," Owen said getting up. "I need to find Deborah."

"It'd be best to forget her boyo," Finlay said returning to the fire. "I found you floating at sea a few hours ago and I don't know how long you been out there. Besides you're not one of them any more. They shouldn't concern you."

Owen just looked at him like he wasn't of this planet. Seeing an opening he ran away. If he stayed around long enough he would have heard the old man sigh. Owen ran through the forest, pretending he knew where he was going. He had to get back to her. After a few hours he found things and landmarks he recognized and made his way back home. His heart stopped as he found himself near the cemetery. A freshly dug grave grabbed his attention. His legs refused to work as he made his way over. The marker next to it grabbed his eyes first, it said Owen McAllister. He dropped to his knees as he read the one next to it, Deborah McAllister. "NOOOO!"

He felt that sensation again and saw Finlay come toward him. Standing behind him he bowed his head slightly out of respect. Owen cried as he realized he was never going to see her again. He hadn't cried like this since he lost his Father. "Stand up boyo," Finlay told him, "Be a man instead of crying like a new born babe." Owen stayed on the ground. "I said get up," he told him. He grabbed his arm to haul him to his feet. Owen popped up and took a swing at him. Finlay easily dodged it and let him fall back to the ground. Owen got up and tried it again. This Time Finlay was able to pin him against a tree. "First rule boyo, we do not fight on holy ground. Remember that if you have any honor. And show her some respect if you miss her that much."

"She was my life!" Owen told him.

"And that life is over," Finlay shot back. Backing away Owen slid down to the ground one more time. "I know it hurts, I felt it more times than you can possibly imagine." Sitting down next to him he looked a little more sympathetic. "You're one of the lucky ones you know. No one who knew you knows you came back. They'll remember you for who you were and not some demon spawn."

"What am I?"

"You're like me," Finlay replied. "You are immortal. You will remain alive until another one of us takes your head off your shoulders." Owen was suddenly very ware of the broadsword hanging by his waist. "Relax boyo," he said realizing what he was looking at. "Like I told you before if I wanted you dead you wouldn't still be breathing."

"Why do you want me alive?"

"I want to give you a fighting chance," he said. "There are plenty of us out there more than willing to take a newborn's head without a second thought. But some of us, well we remember somebody showed us the way and taught us the rules. We feel the need to give somebody else that same courtesy."

"My home…"

"I told you you're not one of them anymore." Getting up he offered Owen a hand. Reluctantly he took it. "No you have other things to worry about now. The more you are prepared the better."

"Does that include the other rules?"

"All in good time boyo," Finlay patted him on the back "All in good time. Your first awakening is soul shaking enough as it is. In the morning I'll explain everything to you." He glanced at the markers he was kneeling before. "McAllister, I knew a clan of Scots with that name a long time ago."

~1708~

Both of them could smell the sea air at the docks as they waited for the ship's crew to finish preparing to leave. Owen had been under Finlay's tutelage for a little over twenty five years now. Although there were times Owen wondered why he still hung around the older man. Around friendly Immortals he was courteous, if not a bit wary. But when among regular humans he was condescending if not altogether rude. For some reason it rubbed Owen the wrong way, but he stayed more out of loyalty than anything else. A young child in rags came up to them. It looked like she hadn't seen a decent meal in a couple of days. "Please sir," she said through a cough, "can you spare a few coins so I can get my brother something to eat."

"Get out of my way you filthy beggar," Finlay shoved her aside.

Owen stayed back for a few moments instead of following. Getting the girls attention he dropped a few coins by her feet, winked at her then followed his mentor. "It's a good day to set sail," he commented nonchalantly.

"You still too soft Owen," Finlay scolded him. "That girl was probably an outcast, kicked out of her village or something. Not worth anybody time or effort."

"My family has been branded with outcast status as well," he said. "It is not a good feeling."

"And you are above such matters now. How many times must I tell you that?"

"And if a person forgets where he comes from then he is lost," Owen argued. That was something his Father always told him. "If we forget we're human than where does that leave us?"

"I am not having this argument with you again," he told him.

"What is you problem with the humans?" Owen asked. He has many times before but never got a straight answer. Now he was determined to get one as he stood in his way. "I am not getting on that boat until you tell me."

"I have been around for over a thousand years and I have seen how petty they are. How needy, violent. How destructive they become."

"Sounds like some Immortals we've come across," Owen commented dryly. "I think part of the reason you want me to leave is so I'll stop asking you about it."

"I want you to grow Owen," Finlay said. "You need to explore the world."

"I have explored things," Owen protested.

"I mean beyond the borders of this land," Finlay corrected him. "There's a whole other world out there Boyo. You should learn as much as you can. The more well rounded an Immortal is the better the chances he has of winning. That's what I believe." Heading off for the ship again he added, "Besides it will be good for you to get away from here. You're too tied up in the past. You need to be thinking about the future and the Gathering. That is the only concerns we have now." They reached the ship and Finlay faced him. "And you need to make this journey alone, as we all must. Take care of yourself boyo. And watch your neck."

"You too Finlay," Owen patted him on the shoulder and boarded the ship. Owen always promised himself he would return home one day. In three hundred years he never kept that promise.

~Now~

Owen woke up with the usual start. But when he breathed in his throat clenched up tight. One hand went for his neck as the other instinctively looked for the sword by his bed as he was feeling the buzz. He realized a few things in matter of moments. He wasn't in his bed, his sword wasn't in reach and there was a something around his neck. The neck part became clear as he remembered his last few moments. He nearly lost his head, so why wasn't he dead. The sterile air he was smelling was telling him hospital. But how did he get there? He found his answer by looking around the room. Balled up in a chair in the corner was Natalya, holding on to her katana. From where he was it looked like her mascara was running a bit. Getting out of bed as gently as he could so he wouldn't disturb her he made his way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A bandage was wrapped around his neck. Taking that off revealed a scar going halfway around his neck.

He stared at it before leaving the room and entered the hallway trying to find out where he was. A familiar face turned the corner. "Owen what are you doing out of bed?", Susan asked. He tried to say something but his voice came out raspy. "Don't talk for a moment," she told him as she examined him. "You lucky most of your vocal cords were still intact so you should sound normal, but you need to take it easy for a bit. I seen some cases where the vocal cord where cut clean through and they never sounded the same. But you're going to be stuck with that scar though. I have never seen a neck wound on an Immortal heal completely. I'd do a study on it but I don't think I could get a grant. Or any willing volunteers for that matter."

"I'm feeling better now," he said but his voice still sounded a little rough.

"You always were stubborn," she said. "I think this is the first time you visited me at this hospital. Natalya has been here more time than you." She stopped fussing at his neck and looked at him, "I didn't know what to think when she called me a couple of days ago. I'm glad she did though I don't know of anybody else who wouldn't have asked any question about taking in a dead man. Outside of that preacher friend of your but I don't think she knew how to contact him."

"Owen!", Natalya ran out of the room looking frantic. She laid eye on him and looked very relieved. Then she looked angry, "Do not scare me like that again. Do you hear me McAllister?"

"Go easy in him," Susan told her. "Let him rest up then tear into him. Besides your still in a hospital after all, think of the other patients. And we still have to find out what happened to him." A door opened a little further down the hall and a young man of nineteen with blond hair walked out looking very pleased. He looked in their direction, smiled and gave them a cheery wave.

"He happened," Owen said with a grunt. Without warning he grabbed Natalya's katana and drew it out of it's sheath.

"Owen not in the hospital," Susan said.

"Is it on holy ground?", he demanded.

"Close enough," the youth said pointing at a cross on the wall.

"That voice," Natalya muttered. "You where the one who called me on Owens' phone."

"Scott Harris," he said with a bow, "at your service."

"You did this too him." Natalya went to take her katana out of Owens' hand but Susan grabbed it and the scabbard before she could.

"There is to be no fighting in this hospital, not while I'm around. Is that clear?", she looked at all three of them. All of them silently agreed, although Owen and Natalya both looked ready to continue it. "Scott why are you here if you caused this?"

"I wanted to see the other person in the only known tie in Immortal history. It was quite historic wouldn't you say?" Owen didn't reply. About then a nurse stumbled out of the room he came out of. Her uniform was a mess. She looked over in their direction, saw Harris them stumbled away in another direction. He started looking pleased with himself until he saw Susan staring at him. "Now Sister it's not what you think," he said quickly. "I made her moan, groan, shiver, quiver and made her feel all fuzzy wuzzy on the inside. But I didn't do anything improper."

"Was she a willing participant?", she asked.

Looking lost for words for a second Harris asked her, "How would you define willing?"

"Come on Owen," Natalya said grabbing his arm "lets get you back to bed."

"That's a little cheeky," Harris said, "right in front of the Sister and all." She said nothing as he took Owen back to his room and closed the door. "Well that was a little rude."

"Why are you really here Scott?" Susan asked. "I've known you since you were a boy. You wouldn't check up on anybody unless you had another motive."

"There's no point in lying to you Sister," Harris said. "I'm making sure things stay interesting." She rolled her eyes realizing he was in the middle of one of his games again. "Big Evil been sent after him. I want to make sure he's up to snuff."

Susan heart filled with dread, "Scott you didn't."

"Not me," he replied. "No the rules were changed behind my back." A grin reappeared on his face. "But now things are in motion and I have no intention of stopping it. But he better last a while or I'm going to be upset." Harris walked away with his hands behind his head. Susan watched him leave then looked at the door leading to Owens' room.