Standard disclaimers apply: Cassandra and the whole Highlander concept belong to Davis/Panzer, Rysher, and Gaumont. I'm doing this for fun, not profit.

Copyright July, 1997

"Cassandra . . . " I heard Kronos' voice call my name, and then his deep, echoing laugh. It floated out of the alley, mocking me, and I drew my sword and charged into the shadows, no thought in my mind but to silence him forever.

"Hey, lady, got any spare change?"

A pair of bloodshot eyes blinked up out of a grizzled face, their owner too drunk to comprehend the bared steel. Horrified by what I'd nearly done, I put the sword away, and my hands shook as I fished a twenty out of my pocket and tossed it to him. He had no idea how close he'd come to dying, all because I could no longer distinguish my nightmares from reality. Leaning weakly against a brick wall, I buried my face in my hands and fought back tears.

I was going insane, and I didn't know how to stop it.

The dreams first began when I learned Kronos was alive, and seeing that bastard, Methos, made them ten times worse. Not more violent, no, nothing as simple as that. Kronos violated my body, but Methos was far more subtle, and in my dreams I felt the shame all over again. He was right, of course, though I would rather die than admit it. I hated myself as much as him, perhaps more, because I'd been so utterly stupid as to fall in love with the lying son of a bitch. And now, even though it was over and the other three were dead, they still followed me everywhere I went, laughing, taunting, reminding me that I was nothing but a worthless slave, a toy for them to use and throw away. The years evaporated so that past and present became one, and I could not escape this time, for killing the monsters didn't chase them away, and there was nowhere to run from what lived inside my own head.

How could this be happening? I knew all the twists and turns of the human mind, knew exactly which buttons to push and which strings to pull in order to get what I wanted. Since escaping their bloodthirsty little band, I'd made damned sure that I never again gave up control of my life. But now, the harder I tried to hold on to that control, the more it slipped out of my grasp. If this didn't stop, I would soon be unable to function at all.

"I need help." I didn't realize I'd said it aloud until the drunk spoke up.

"Whazza matter with ya?"

If only I knew. Wiping my eyes dry, I answered sarcastically, "Oh, I'm going insane, that's all."

"Ya look fine t' me." Using a trashcan for support, he pulled himself to his feet and stuffed my twenty into a filthy pocket.

"Yes, perfectly fine, for someone who hears voices and sees things that aren't there."

The man snorted, and waved his hands in the air. "Hell, I do that all the time, and I ain't no nutcase. Ya just gotta ignore 'em."

"Ignore whom?"

"The aliens. I know they ain't real, so I just ignore 'em. Thanks for the dough." Lurching unsteadily, he made his way out of the alley, no doubt heading for the nearest liquor store.

Right. You're not a nutcase? That's called denial, friend. But then, who was I to talk about denial? I'd fooled myself for centuries. All of the hate and rage was still there, even though I'd told myself I was over it. Well, now I knew better, and like it or not, I had to face my past.

I was so sure that killing the Horsemen would end the nightmares, but it hadn't worked out that way. Was this because one of them still lived? Maybe if I killed Methos, and to hell with MacLeod . . . but what if that didn't work, either? What if, like the others, he continued to haunt me even after he was dead? Angry as I was with Duncan, I preferred not to risk what was left of our relationship over something that might not do me any good. Besides, no matter what demons still plagued me, I could not forget the sound of Methos' sobs after taking Silas's quickening. Damn him! Why couldn't he stay a monster, like the others?

I needed help, that much was obvious. The next panhandler could very well end up headless. Psychiatrists were out of the question — try telling them you were immortal and they'd lock you up in a padded room. If only Sean Burns weren't dead! Perhaps he could have seen me through this. Oh, yes, there was MacLeod, but he had already witnessed my pain and humiliation, and my heart still bled from his betrayal.

Friends. I generally avoided other immortals, and I heartily regretted it now. I needed someone to talk to.

Still shaking, I left the alley and continued on towards the herb store, which had been my original destination. There was a time when I grew everything I needed in my own garden, but these days it was readily available, if you knew where to look. The "New Age" movement saw to that, which was its only redeeming quality, as far as I was concerned.

As always, the shop was littered with flyers for everything from fire-walking seminars to yoga classes. I usually ignored them, but today one leapt out at me:

HEALING PAST LIFE TRAUMA

Dr. Serenity Michaels

I stared at it for a moment, then gave myself a brisk shake, yet even as I placed my orders with the woman behind the counter, I could not get the flyer out of my mind. What could it hurt? She might be just another white-light quack, but at least she wouldn't put me in a straightjacket when I told her about the Bronze Age.

"Miss? Hello, Miss? That'll be forty-two dollars and twenty cents."

The woman's voice broke me out of my reverie, and I looked up to find a concerned expression on her thin face. Was I that transparent? Embarrassed, I apologized for wool-gathering, and paid for the herbs. Then, on impulse, I asked, "Do you know anything about this Dr. Michaels?"

"I've heard she's really good. I did an aura reading the other day for someone who was seeing her." Soft blue eyes studied me for a moment, and I suspected that my own aura was under scrutiny. "You want one of her cards?"

It was a stupid idea, but it was the only idea I had. I took the card.

Ashton Press Home | Donan Woods | Hellhound | Bizarro | Fanzines | Artwork
Fan Fiction | Submission Guidelines | Book Reviews | Fun Links | Bizarro Cattery | Photos