Susan let him use her usual training area to practice when he was hunting his Uncle down since he knew the Father would try to talk him out of it if he went to the church. When he finally cornered and killed him he went back and practiced harder, there was somebody else he had to hunt down. And if Susan was right he might not be coming out of this alive. Still that doesn't mean he was going to lie down and let Dijkhuizen take his head without a fight. Owen thought he had an idea at how he was going to survive, he just needed to finally pick that damn move up. Fixing a stick to a practice dummy's hand he stood in position in front of it with his long sword ready. Getting his breath under control he concentrated. He tried to knock the stick of the way. When he did he tried to go for the head, Again he failed in the attempt. "Damn it!", he kicked the dummy in frustration. Over two hundred years and he still couldn't do this stupid strike. How in the hell did Naoto make it look so easy?

Feeling the buzz he froze when he heard unfamiliar footsteps come toward him. Glancing over at the door he saw Harris come toward him with his hands behind his head. "Naoto said he had a hard time teaching that moves to others," he said. "I picked it up easily enough so I don't see what the problem is. You even have him in you so there must be something wrong with you."

"Go away Harris," Owen growled. "I'm in no mood for your games."

"My game is done," he said, "finished, finite. It is over and you have won. But you seem to have a few loose ends you need to tie up. Am I one of those loose ends? Because I've never been one before it is a rather interesting sensation."

Feeling the scar on his neck Owen glared at him, "Just be glad Susan made me promise not to kill you. Yet," he added.

"Ah the good sister," he said. "Still looking out for me after all these years." Owen ignored him and went back to the dummy. After a couple of more failed attempts he smacked the dummy around. "You're not going to last long that way. I've seen Big Evil in action, he eats frustrated people for breakfast."

"Why are you still fucking here?!", Owen exploded. "You said it yourself your game is over."

"I'm trying to make a particular little blue eyed bird happy again," he said. "Best way to do that is to help you locate Big Evil. I won't fight him with you there are rules to this thing after all." Harris held out a piece of paper in his hand. Owen didn't budge. "Don't believe me? I am truly and deeply hurt. Perhaps," he said drawing his cutlass, "you want to try and fight me for it, going another round as it were. En Guard."

Owen blocked his initial attack. "I am not in the mood." But Harris still came at him. He went for a horizontal slash. Owen grabbed his wrist with his left hand and spun keeping Harris' sword arm behind him. Harris flinched slightly as he felt the edge of the sword against his neck. Owens' promise to Susan was the only thing staying his hand. Staying in that position for a few moments he started chuckling, "And to think I told Naoto that would never work."

"He did have a small obsession with unbeatable moves," Harris quickly agreed. "Never put much stock in them myself, they always seemed more like a crutch than help." Owen nodded in agreement. "So now what friend, you have me at your mercy. My life, quite literally, is in your hands." Keeping his gaze on Harris Owen tapped the handle of his long sword with his thumb. Getting the message Harris slipped the piece of paper with Dijkhuizen's location under it. "So are we even now?"

"Not yet." Owen let go of his wrist but he pulled the length of the sword against his neck, cutting deep. Harris went down to the floor holding the new opening in his body. Owen didn't cut deep enough to kill him, just enough to scar him. Walking over him he said, "Now we're even."

"Bad form", Harris muttered as the blood seeped through his finger, "seriously bad form."

At that same time Michel was practicing with his with his sword in his bedroom, wearing only his pants. Yes Malcolm was gone, but after that initial outburst he wasn't as mad as he thought he would be. In fact he was enjoying the waiting game a little, this McAllister was a fighter and might be an interesting challenge. Finishing his practice he looked out the window at the setting sun, he was out there somewhere. It was only a matter of time. A groan made him look around. A sheet just covering a leg the woman who shared his Bekah's name started to stir. He admired her naked form for a moment as she woke. After helping him locate Malcolm she stayed around. Michel didn't exactly turn her away. "You're awake, good I'm still in the mood." Taking his pants off he got back in bed with her.

"No more," Bekah told him weakly. She tried to get up, "Please I need to rest a little more." He held her down. His tongue played with her neck as she stopped struggling in. Bekah moaned as he continued to play with her, fondling her. Finally he entered her and in moments she was screaming his name, "MICHEL!"

Owen went back to his apartment before heading out. As much as he hated to admit it Harris was right, he wouldn't last long against Dijkhhuizen if he went in there out of control. Remember some of the mediating tips Susan and Naoto taught him he tried to find his center again. After a few hours he was as close as he was going to get and headed out. After a couple of more hours of searching he found his target, an old warehouse. He stopped and turned around when he saw a woman with strawberry blond hair walk out with a huge smile on her face. Making sure she went away and that nobody else was around he went down a side alley to the door. Feeling the buzz before he got there he tried not to tense up. Testing the doorknob he found it was unlocked and pushed it open, ready for any surprise attack. Nobody was on the other side so he cautiously entered. "You saved me the trouble of hunting you down." Owen looked up to see Dijkhuizen look down at him from some sort of loft. "The stairs are over there," he pointed out. "Please make yourself at home."

"OK," Owen mutter, a bit confused. Not seeing any other way up there Owen took the stairs, going slower the closer he got to the loft. He found a door leading to an apartment looking area, apparently a living room. Ignoring the Victorian chair and table he glanced briefly at the bookshelves as he passed them, again confused as he saw the mix of the selection. Another open door made Owen reach into his jacket for his sword handle. There he found Dijkhuizen and a whole lot of swords, axes and other weapons of war. "Please do come in," he said. Owen complied still gripping his sword. "You know I'm not really surprised you hunted me down instead. I saw it in your eyes when I killed that punk. To think I was actually afraid you would be like your Uncle, running and hiding on holy ground."

Owen glanced around the room, seeing that damnable red blade of his. He also saw a familiar looking claymore leaning against the side of a chair. Michel saw him look at it, "Ah yes, his claymore. I wanted to add this to my collection for a long time." He tapped it with his knuckle as he passed heading for a coat rack in the corner holding his trench coat. "I actually went back for it after you got away. But it didn't feel right putting it up with the others. I didn't actually earn it. Maybe after I absorb your Quickening I'll change my mind." He started putting on these studded gloves he had laying nearby.

"You going somewhere?", Owen asked.

"Preparing for battle," he responded not looking at him. "I was a warrior before I became immortal. My old leader beat into me that a warrior needs to don his armor for any battle." Slowly he slipped on the trench coat, "My armor might have changed over the centuries but the concept is still the same." Looking back at the claymore he asked, "Did he ever tell you why he wanted me to kill you?" Owen said nothing, he didn't ask and really didn't care. "At first I thought it was because he wanted to be the only immortal McAllister, being the chieftain of his clan made him feel above the rest of them I suppose. Then he found out who you were exactly." He started chuckling, "I don't know what your old man did to fuck him over but I've never seen him that determined to get me to go after anybody." He walked around the room, getting closer to that red sword of his. "But you didn't come all the way out here to listen to me. And I don't want to talk." Grabbing the sword off the wall he made a move toward Owen.

Owen barley got his sword out in time to block it. Dijkhuizen had him on the defense almost immediately as he continued the block everything being thrown at him. Owen foot hit the wall behind him as he was forced to back up. Michel raised his sword above his head. Owen moved out of the way and he sliced through the wall. Seeing an opening Owen took a swing at him. Dijkhuizen dove out of the way and he got wall as well, his sword getting stuck in an interior stud, "Shit." Dijkhuizen came at him, Owen kicked him away before pulling his sword free off the wall. Stumbling a bit he quickly regained his footing before going after the older Immortal.

"I wish McAllister had this much fire," Michel grunted as he blocked the attack after attack. Seeing a hole in his assault he smashed his forearm into the younger McAllister's face making him back up a bit. Michel reached back and took a sword off the wall, his very first sword. Holding both before him the younger Immortal back up a bit but eventually held his ground. Grinning a bit he said, "You should be honored I wasn't planning on breaking this one out of retirement." Then he went after him again swinging wildly. Owen rolled under one swing and ran for the door. He wasn't going to last long in there while he had both of those in his hands. Stopping in the slightly bigger living room he turned around just in time to see Dijkhuizen run at him. Wishing he had Harris' speed right now he barely kept one step ahead of blocking those blades coming at him.

The younger Immortal felt something at the back of his foot and couldn't waste the time to figure out what it was. He fell to the side as Michel brought both swords down. He cut into the Victorian chair with ease. Michel looked at the chair than at him as he scrambled to his feet. Normally he would have been angry that his property was destroyed. Instead his grin grew bigger and charged at him again. Owen tried to keep from thinking that he might die here, it would have been a self fulfilling prophesy at this point. Kicking Dijkhuizen away again he tried to get enough room so he could breath. Michel came at him armed crossed and swinging both swords. He was able to get his sword up to block, finding himself on the opposite end of the cross swords that Victor faced when they fought. Michel pushed him backwards, going into a run. This time Owen did look back and saw they were heading for the picture window in the wall. Freeing a hand he reached out and grabbed him by the coat. He was able to get him to turn so they both crashed through the window.

Both of them hit the ground hard amid a shower of broken glass in the side alley. Owen slowly got to his feet and shook his jacked off, ignoring the burning sensation on his face as cuts healed and pushed out bits of glass still embedded in his skin and the feeling of his ribs knitting themselves together. Dijkhuizen eyes opened and he got to his feet. Letting go of his original sword as his broken arm healed he cracked his neck, popping vertebrae back into place. The tip of his red blade making a groove in the glass he walked to Owen who backed up his sword at the ready. Roaring he charged McAllister slamming the sword down on top of him repeatedly. Owen got his sword up to block each one as he continued to back up. Trying to catch Michel off guard he pressed an attack of his own. The older Immortal looked like he was enjoying his attempt. Realizing Owen was getting over eager he spun out of the way of slash aimed at his gut. Michel swung and a deep cut in his back made Owen recoil in pain, "Uh." Another slash in his back made his hand open up and drop the sword. A third dropped him to his knees.

"There's nobody to make me stop now," Michel grinned as he took aim at his head. Instinct made Owen roll foreword, barely avoiding the blade. Roaring again Michel tried to cut him in Half. Owen rolled out of the way of that one and got to a knee. Seeing his long sword Owen dove for it. His hand reached the handle but Dijkhuizen's foot was already on the blade. He looked up to see a flash of red coming at him. He quickly backed away, crawling backwards as Dijkhuizen continued to stalk him. "Come on McAllister! Show me what you fucking got!" he taunted him while grinning like a man possessed. Owen got to his feet and tackled him again, or at least he tried to. Michel flung him to the side and again stopped him when he made a move for the long sword. Michel kicked him down and stomped a foot in his chest.

Instead of finishing him off he picked up Owen' sword and threw it further down the alley. Owen watched it fly out of his reach, dear God not like this. "End of the fucking road McAllister." Out of desperation he kicked Dijkhuizen in the balls as he came closer. Kicking his foot out again he caught him under the chin making him stagger back. Taking the moment he had he saw Dijkhuizen's other sword lying on the ground. He ran for it since this was his only chance. Grabbing it on the run he stumbled as he turned around to face Dijkhuizen. The red blade poised above his head and anger in his eyes Owen rolled under the strike and backed up. He tried to ignore how foreign this sword felt in his hands. Pointing the blade behind him and slightly toward the ground he waited for the next attack. It didn't come as Michel stood there, both hands on the handle he had his sword up and pointed toward the sky

While they stood there it started to rain, a slow drizzle at first that quickly increased into a steady down pour. Michel glanced up at the incoming drops before looking back at the younger McAllister. "It's going to be a bad day for somebody," he grunted. Owen tried to get his emotions under control, knowing he was going to lose if he didn't. Michel silently fumed that he dared touch his sword, but kept the rage in check until it was time to unleash it. They stood there and words from their former mentors came to them.

"Fear is your weapon," his old leader told him.

"You have to study your opponent while you fight him," Finlay informed him

"Your enemy will tell you his weakness," Kronos said.

"Do not rely on just your sight in battle," Naoto taught him

Michel studied Owen, particularly his hand. His fingers kept flexing around the handle while he tried to find a grip on that sword. He started grinning again. Owen heard the glass crunch under his feet. He got ready, having an idea where the attack was coming from. Michel came at him high, Owen already had the sword in place to block. Sparks started to fly off their blades as they clashed. Both ignored the rain pouring into their eyes. Michel was almost able to knock the sword from his hands but the younger Immortal was keeping a death grip on the handle. Owen tried to get a bead on Dijkhuizen but his style was so wild there was no pattern he could predict he could only react. Both of them kicked at the other at the same time. Both stumbled back. Owen and Michel looked at each other before running toward each other. Both of them swung. Owen momentum forced him to the ground blood flying.

Michel stood there with his sword out mid swing. For a brief second he heard Malcolm say, "What would you do if you knew you were about to die today?" A moment later a red line formed around his neck. His head slowly fell backwards as his body dropped to the ground. As Owen stood up holding the still bleeding gash in his chest and coughed up blood as the Quickening poured out of the headless body. It snaked around in the air, hovering around the younger Immortal. Almost like it was hunting him, stalking him, waiting to pounce on top of him.

A bolt came off of it and knocked him foreword. Another came at him from the front and almost floored him. The Quickening seem to split in two, freezing him in place as it entered him. The energy continued to pour out of the body and swirled around him, seemingly tearing him up on the inside. "AAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!" Owen screamed as the pain took him past his limits. The windows around and above him shattered from the energy and rained down upon him. Cuts from the deadly shower healed almost instantly as the Quickening continued to assault him. Bolts of lightning like energy shot off of him creating sparks on the walls. Manhole covers flew into the air as sewer gas exploded and clanged on the ground. When he thought he couldn't contain all of this anymore it stopped. Owen dropped to his knees totally spent and exhausted.

Inside of him a secondary battle was taking place. Dijkhuizen was fighting to remain on top. For the first time ever Owen thought he would actually lose this one. Then something inside him seemed to grab Dijkhuizen's Quickening and dragged it down, he fought it all the way. In that brief second Owen blinked as his eyes started to focus around him. He saw Dijkhuizen's red blade and picked it up. Studying it he grew disgusted at the sight of it and threw it down. Grabbing his jacket he searched for his long sword. But why couldn't he shake this feeling somebody he knew was nearby?

"Holy shit," said a young man who's long brown hair was tied back in a pony tail. Through a set of binocular he watched McAllister from a nearby rooftop. He didn't notice Bekah beside him look away, trying not to look upset. "I actually thought he was going to rise up in the air there for a moment."

"What… what are you talking about Jim?", she forced out. She never knew McAllister was there if she didn't see Radcliffe hanging around. When he told her what was going in she quickly pointed out a spot they could watch. She was still in disbelief.

"Sorry," he said looking at her. "Back in the eighties Kurgan's Watcher, I think his name was Horton, described the Quickening Macleod absorbed. He raised up in the air it was so powerful. There actually 8mm footage of it. Horton was convinced the Gathering was ending and recorded it for prosperity. It was quite a sight."

"MacLeod?", she asked still in disbelief. "Duncan MacLeod?"

"The older one, Conner. It was quite a sight to see on film. Damn that would have been something to see live." Radcliffe went back to looking at the alley, recording what he saw in his digital recorder. Bekah knew she should do the same. In fact she had the recorder in her hand. But she couldn't say anything, she couldn't believe that he lost. That fucking bastard killed him.

~a few days later~

Rob tried not to get nervous as he watched Harris come toward him with two beers in his hand. It was almost becoming a common thing lately. More than likely they like to hit the same bars. Sitting them down Harris said, "Hello again my friend." Rob tried not to stare at the scar on his neck, although it might be interesting to hear how he would explain that one. "I'm afraid this might be our last meeting. For I am leaving soon as the wind is calling my name."

Rob tried not to flinch as he took a drink, well the rest was nice while it lasted. "Well if you got to go you got to go. Do you have any idea where you're going?" Hey it was worth a shot.

"I never know until I get there." After a couple of more drinks Rob noticed Harris wasn't exactly drinking any of his beer. Why were things getting fuzzy and why was he so dizzy suddenly? Harris just smiled at him, "I am truly sorry friend but I hate being watched."

Realizing he was just drugged Rob got out, "You son of a…" before the darkness took him. Harris caught his head and gently laid it down on the table.

"Can't have you banging your head now can we? And I do hope you had the decency to look away while I had some fun with the old in and out with the ladies I've come across. That would just be rude." Getting a waitress's attention he slipped her a hundred dollar bill, "Please make sure nobody disturbs my friend here. He should be up in the next couple of hours."

Outside the bar he walked around until he found Ser. "Now will you tell me why I had to drug that woman?"

"All in due time my dear," he said guiding her down the street. "It is a rather remarkable story if I do say so myself. But not one for the open. I trust you are all packed and ready to go?" The buzz stopped them, they both looked around until they saw Susan coming toward them. "Sister, come to see us off? How nice of you."

"Are you sure about this Ser?", she asked. "I understand about wanting to leave but with Scott?"

"He was right, this place does seem different to me now," she explained. "And I'm very aware that a pre Quickening Immortal sticks out like a sore thumb and I'm not sure how many decent guys who won't take advantage of my inexperience I'm going to come across. Scott volunteered to accompany me for a while, at least until I get the hang of it. I would have asked you but you're needed here."

"I would have gone with you Ser," Susan told her. "You are my student after all."

"But you got people who need you here," she repeated. "You taught me a lot but even you said I have to try and learn from somebody else eventually."

"Yes I did," she agreed sadly. She looked at Scott for a moment, "Ser can we have a moment alone?" She said they could and walked off a bit. "Scott I'm only going to tell you this once."

"I know exactly what you're going to say," he said. "I will be the perfect gentleman you always tried to get me to be. But if she gets her own ideas than I won't stop her. It would just be rude after all."

"I'm sure you will," she said. Than Susan eyes changed slightly, into something dangerous, something she only showed to those she fought in battle, "But if I ever get a call saying you got bored with her and left her stranded in the middle of nowhere. You better pray somebody takes your head before I find you."

Harris gulped, "Of course Sister." Quickly heading over to Serenity he hurried her down the street. "Come Serenity, there's a world to see and people to meet. Maybe a game or two to play down the road." Ser went off on him about those games but Scott continued to walk her down the street

Susan watched them a bit before turning away. Smiling to herself she said, "I still got it."

~Two months later~

Owen sat in the airport waiting for his flight to be called. He should have been out here a month ago, but every time there seemed to be more and more paper work to get some kind of permission to travel with a sword. He had no problem with the modern world, but times like this he really missed the simpler days of travel. He was out of his lease, most of his possessions were in storage and outside of this carryon bag most of his luggage should be loading right about now. All he had to do was wait. "Did you think you could leave without saying goodbye?" He looked up and saw the Father standing in front of him.

"Sorry Father," he said as he sat next to him. "I haven't really been myself lately."

"We've noticed," he said. "You know you can talk to me about anything Owen. I like to think you value our friendship as much as I do."

"I know Father, and I do. More than you realize. But I'm trying to find myself again, I need to do that alone." Owen was quiet while the other man took that in. "I know it sounds strange but it's something I have to do."

"I understand better than you think," Father Andrews said with a smile. "I've done a little soul searching of my own from time to time. So do you have an idea where you're going to start looking?"

"I figured I start with a promise I've been meaning to keep for the last three hundred years." When the other man looked confused he answered, "I'm going home."

"Sounds like a good start," he smiled. "I hope it a sort search."

"It rarely is."

Over the PA system a woman announced, "Flight 227 to Glasgow, Scotland is now boarding at gate twenty seven."

"That's my flight," Owen said as he grabbed his bag and got up.

"You told me you were born in Ireland," The father said getting up as well.

"I got to make a stop first. I'll explain later." Owen pulled the Father into a hug, "I'll be in touch Father. Take care of yourself."

"And you as well. What's that saying you Immortals say? Watch your back or neck I think."

Smiling he said, "Something like that." Owen headed for his flight. Three hundred plus years and he still hated saying goodbye to people. Looking for his terminal somebody ran into him, "Careful there." He realized after a moment it was a woman.

"I'm sorry," she said. Owen looked at her, a wisp of strawberry blond hair was just hanging underneath her hat. She started smiling at him, "Oh my God how are you doing? It's been forever."

"I'm sorry do I know you?" Owen searched his memory, he couldn't place this woman to save his life.

Losing the smile, in fact she started to look kind of sad, she said, "I'm sorry. I must have you confused with somebody else."

"It happens to me all the time." Owen heard the flight announcement again and excused himself. Why couldn't he shake this feeling he'd seen her before?

Behind him the woman sad face changed to one of determination and followed him. They were in a mostly deserted part of the airport. She could shot him and cut off his head before anybody could stop her. Reaching into her coat she pulled a revolver out of her waistband, hurrying up to get closer. The less time the few people that were there had to react the better. Somebody got in her way. She recognized him almost immediately, grunting, "Get out of my way Rob."

"I can't let you do it Bekah," he said. She looked over his shoulder. McAllister was getting further and further away. She went to pull her gun but Rob stopped her.

"He has to die," she said anger flashing tin her eyes. "He killed Michel, my Michel and he has to die. Why don't you understand that?"

"It's what they do Bekah, until there only one of them left." He looked behind her and nodded. She looked around and saw more Watchers standing around them. "I'm sorry Bekah, but I told them what you told me."

"You fucking bastard," she went to shot him but they quickly got it away from her. Rob looked sad as she cursed at him. "I am never going to forgive you for this!" They tried to detain her but she fought back. Somebody had to jam a needle in her neck and inject her with something to get her to calm down. They took her out of there without any more fuss. Rob knew he did the right thing, it still didn't stop him from feeling like shit though.

An older man came up to him saying, "Thanks for letting us know Rob. I still don't know what happened but at least it explains why she was stalking McAllister for the past couple of months. Hopefully we can help her, but I don't think she's going to be watching anybody ever again."

"Just trying to help out a friend," He said. "So when am I getting reassigned? After I lost Harris I was told I was taken off of him."

"We thought you needed a rest," he said. A little reluctantly he added, "And I'm afraid to say you're under investigation too." Rob didn't say anything, although he had a feeling why. And it wasn't because of Harris. He went on, "After they found out what Trevor was up to they started looking at his associates. Peter was listed as one of them, and he brought you in. Both of them requested that you be pushed forward into field duty so that didn't look good. It's just a precaution, I'm sure nothing will come of it."

"Maybe I should just turn myself in because it true."

The other man looked at him, realizing he wasn't joking, "Rob I have to report this. Do you have any idea what they're going to do to you?"

"I got an idea."

"Fuck. Maybe they'll be a little lenient because you turned yourself in willingly. But why would you do that?"

"Because I was a newer member of the group, and I realize I don't really believe in what he was saying, not anymore." The older man nodded and guided Rob to the others.

As he walked around a small town on the coast of Scotland in the early morning Owen was lost in memories. When he was younger his Father would paint such a vivid picture in his mind at how his village used to look like Owen would have sworn he was there. Roughly a year before Finlay made him leave he visited his Father's village once and it was exactly how he described it. A few of the older folks thought he was him at first. That was the first time he had ever used a fake name to introduce himself. Now three centuries later the village had grown a bit but he still pictured his Father's village in his mind. Greeting anybody he passed as he made his way to the cemetery, he was grateful it was still were it was suppose to be.

Entering he immediately headed to the back where the older tombstones were. Studying the dates he found were roughly his Father would have been if they never listened to his Uncle. Looking around to make sure he was alone he opened his coat and reached into the other side, pulling out a claymore. He looked at it for a moment or two before saying, "It's more than you deserve." Without a second thought he plunged it into the ground and left.

He didn't go far before he felt the buzz. His heart caught in his throat as he saw who was coming toward him. Natalya asked, "So, is that like a guy thing or something?"

"It's what Dad would have wanted," he answered softly. There was an uncomfortable silence before he was saying, "How did you…?"

"Father Andrews told Susan where you were going," she answered. "I put two and two together."

Again there was an awkward silence. "Is this were you tell me we need to talk?"

"I hope not," she said. "Damn it Owen. Do you have any idea how much that hurt when you said it? It hurt worse because I knew why you were saying it." He couldn't look at her. "I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought you trusted me enough to help you through it."

"I don't think you know how much you actually mean to me," he told her. "But it's hard to admit it when I know there's a chance that I might have to kill you."

"You don't think I know that?", she snapped. "I love you Owen McAllister, but I'm wondering why I'm even wasting my time with you." He deserved that one, no doubt about it. "Hell, I arrived here yesterday trying to see if I can understand what's going on in that head of yours."

"My last name might be McAllister," he said his old brogue slipping through, "but I'm a son of Scotland and Ireland. If you want to understand me lass you're going to have to see both."

He looked over at her, she was still mad at him he could tell that much, but there was a small smile on her lips. Coming closer she said, "Well then, if you want to understand me you're going to have to see France and Russia as I'm a child of both as well."

Smiling a bit he said, "I do love you Natalya. Hopefully you'll eventually forgive me for being an idiot, but I'll understand if you don't."

"I love you too much not to," she told him. "Owen I want to be with you, not like how we were before, in and out of each other's lives. But after we blew up when we tried living together I don't know how it'll work."

"We'll think of something."

"Then let's promise not to fight each other," she told him. "I mean we'll still going to argue, nothing going to stop that, but we won't fight each other."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is that simple," she informed him. "We'll worry about it if we're the last two. But if that's one of the biggest blocks in our way let's get rid of it. Promise me we won't fight."

"I promise I won't fight you if you don't fight me." His hand reached out for hers. Their fingers lightly grazed each other before starting to intertwine. They stopped when they felt another Immortal. "We're a little busy if you don't mind," he told the intruder.

"Not my problem," he said pulling out a sword. "And the name is Roger Mulligan."

"You want me to take this one?", Natalya asked, both of them realizing he wasn't going to leave until he fought one of them.

"No I got it." They walked off of holy ground while Natalya watched. Drawing his long sword he said, "Owen McAllister." Mulligan bowed a bit. Both of their swords at the ready they clashed. Because after all in the end there can be only one.