Buffy clutched her sides tightly as she sobbed in the darkness of Adam's apartment, convinced the pain would never end. She hadn't properly grieved after killing him, preferring to avoid thinking of him as best she could. Some nights, in order to keep the emotion at bay, she almost convinced herself that he wasn't dead and that the whole situation was a nightmare that she would soon wake up from.
Talking with Duncan had changed all that. He had made it real, so real that she just couldn't handle it anymore. She had run all the way home from his dojo, desperately needing the sanctity of Adam's apartment.
She had collapsed on the couch, not even caring if Adam was back from Joe's yet and dissolved into helpless tears that she hadn't been able to stop. She had never felt so lost, so hopelessly heartbroken. Not even Angel becoming Angelus had been this painful. It felt as if she was being ripped in two and the other half of her was stuck in whatever hell dimension she had sent Angel to.
Angel, her Angel. The only wrong he had ever committed was to love her. It was all her fault. She had destroyed the one perfect thing in her life in the cruelest way possible. She had given him his moment of perfect happiness and he had died for it She wanted to be punished. She wanted the emotional feeling of being ripped in two to become literal. She needed to be punished. No matter how much she suffered it couldn't compare to whatever he was going through all because of her. How could she take any of their advice and go on with her life after what she had done?
It would never end, she knew this now. Duncan's attempt to tell her that time could heal her pain was clearly untrue. This was something that would never heal, could never heal. She didn't want it to. She didn't want these tears to ever stop and yet, it felt like they would destroy her.
She didn't hear the door to the apartment opening. She didn't hear the footsteps coming towards her. She was completely oblivious to the other presence in the room, until it grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. She gulped back her sobs as she stared into the angry, slightly bloodied face of Adam Pierson.
"Adam…" she trailed off, completely shocked.
"I'm fine." He said shortly. "The wounds have healed."
"What happ…"
"The immortal/vampire's name is Alexander Klossen." Adam snapped. "He paid me a visit outside of Joe's. I got off easy considering."
"Considering what?" She asked, a lead-like feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. "What happened Adam?"
"You really want to know?" He hissed, his eyes flashing an anger she hadn't seen before. "A young girl is dead on the sidewalk outside of Joe's thanks to that psycho that's what happened."
"Who…who was she?" Buffy was ghost white now, as the full implications of what Adam was saying hit her.
"What the hell does it matter Anne?" He exclaimed. "She's dead."
"What did he do to you?" She asked, wanting to keep her mind off the fact that both she and Adam knew this was all her fault.
"It doesn't matter," Adam growled. "I'll live, I'm immortal remember?"
"You can still be killed." Buffy said quietly, brushing away the tears that still adorned her face. "Why did he let you live?"
"To deliver you a message." Adam told her with a grimness that made her heart sink. He pointed in the direction of the door, though Buffy knew he was referring to the sidewalk where the girl had died when he did. "That girl was the message. He's killing innocent people now Anne. He's doing it to get to you. Are you proud of yourself? Do you like what you've become?"
"I didn't kill that girl." She protested, though it sounded weak even to herself. She didn't know how much more guilt or responsibility she could take. She already saw Angel's accusing eyes in her dreams, she couldn't possibly feel the guilt of a faceless dead girl on top of it. It was just too much.
"You might as well have." Adam said coldly. She felt like she had been punched in the gut as she looked at him. Never had she seen such disgust on someone's face. "More will die Anne, that's the message. Are you going to pretend you're not responsible for them too?"
"I'm not pretending anything," she snapped back. "I didn't ask for him to come after me. He's half immortal, which makes him half your problem as much as mine. Besides, what makes you think that I could kill him where you failed?"
"Glad to see your maturity shining through," Adam said sarcastically. "You're the slayer, only you can kill this thing. Not me, not Duncan, and not that poor girl out there."
"I'm not buying the false nobility Adam, it's not your style." She shot back.
"What the hell do you know about my style?" He countered furiously. "You don't know anything about me. I've lived a long life child and not all of it has been noble. But you didn't see that girl out there. You didn't see what he did to her. And if I could have killed him, I would have. The point is I tried. You won't even learn how to use a bloody sword."
"I know how to use a sword." She whispered, shaking now but unable to figure out why.
"Do you?" He was in her face now and Buffy could feel herself backing away, unable to meet his eyes. "Because so far all I've seen from you when you touch one is you freezing up and shaking like a heroine addict."
"That's none of your business," she stammered, turning from him and trying desperately to stop her body from trembling.
"More of this 'poor me I've seen so much' crap, eh?" He grabbed a towel and angrily wiped the dried blood from his face. "Spare me slayer, my sympathy's about run out."
"What the hell do you want from me?" She burst out, unable to keep the tears from cascading down her face yet again. She could not have hated herself anymore than she did at this moment, trembling and crying in front of a man who clearly now despised her for her weakness.
"I want to see the slayer, not this wounded child!" He crossed the room with rapid strides and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, desperate to shake some sense into her. "I want to see you fight the next time that thing attacks-and he will-not just give up. Damn it, I know you're stronger than this!"
"Why? Because I'm the slayer? Because these powers were forced on me?" She shoved him back, allowing her anger to take over completely. "You don't even see a person when you look at me do you? Did you even see one in her? Or did you treat your slayer like a weapon to be used and traded in for a better model when she finally failed you?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." Adam said quietly, but with no less force.
"Don't I?" She countered, feeling like she had somehow gained the upper hand in the argument. "You're just like all the others. You watchers don't care what we have to go through as long as we fight your battles, win your wars. You have no idea what each and every slayer has to give up so that you and everyone else can sleep safely at night and what do you do about it? You watch. What did you do for her? Did you watch her die like every other watcher Adam? Did you even try to save her?"
"Shut up," his voice was a distinct warning, but Buffy was past caring.
"Did you tell yourself it wasn't your fault? That she was supposed to die? One slayer dies, the next one's called right? It's not your problem. It's her fight, not yours."
"Shut up!" Adam's voice was more forceful now and Buffy noticed his fists had gone white, he was clenching them so hard. But she couldn't be stopped now.
"I'm right aren't I?" She was glaring straight into his eyes now, refusing to back down, even for a second. "You never really loved her. You can't love someone you're using. What killed her Adam? Was it a mission you sent her on?"
"You don't know a damn thing about love, you selfish child!" Adam grabbed her shoulders yet again and shoved her angrily against the wall that joined the kitchen and living room. "How could you, when all you think of is yourself? You stupid girl, people are dead! I'm sorry the world has been unfair to you, but you have no idea what happened to me, or my slayer and attacking me on her behalf will never justify your actions, or should I say inactions. I can see I've wasted my pity and my time."
"I don't want your pity," she said, tight lipped with anger. "And I don't need your time. You want me out, just say it and I'm gone."
"Great, more running." He said sarcastically. "I'm sure that seems like the perfect solution to all your problems. If you go now, he will follow you and kill you and I'm not going to let that happen."
"Why not?" She exclaimed, feeling trapped and claustrophobic by her position against the wall and the intense anger in his eyes. "You can barely stand to look at me, why should you care if I die or not? I'm not her Adam, I'm not Celine. You don't know who I am."
"How can I when you won't tell me?" He exclaimed. "You won't give me any clue as to what did this to you. And yet, I care about you. That's what makes me so angry, Anne. I don't see her when I look at you, you can be sure of that. I see a confused young slayer that I desperately want to help. But you won't let me in. You won't let me know."
"You wouldn't like me any more if you knew." She finally whispered, her breath catching as she spoke. "I'm not a slayer Adam, I'm a monster. Don't you see? I'm not worthy of your admiration, or your anger."
"You have no idea what a monster is," Adam warned. He never felt more like a stranger to her than he did with those words.
"I…I'm sorry, about the girl…about what he did to her." She forced the words out, knowing that speaking them meant admitting at least partial responsibility.
"Don't be sorry." He said. "Be who you are. Be the slayer."
"I…I don't know that I can," she whispered shamefully. A tear slipped down her cheek.
Adam stepped back and pulled his Ivanhoe from wherever he kept it hidden. He then offered it to her, flat against the palm of his hands. She tried to recoil at the sight of it, but the wall she was against prevented it.
"Take it." He was saying. She shook her head furiously, trying to keep the images at bay.
"No," she said as she started to shake.
"Take it." He said again, a little louder this time. She hesitated still and the cold fury returned to his tone. "Take it damn you!"
"Don't you see that I can't?" She cried back.
With a growl, he clutched the hilt of the sword and raised it over his head as if intending to strike. Buffy reacted instinctively as he brought the blade down, by ducking the swish of the blade, then tripping Adam with a leg sweep, and watching him crash to the ground. She stepped away from him, hoping that he wouldn't attack again, but was not so lucky. He stood and came at her once more, an agility in his movements that Buffy knew could only be acquired through centuries of practice. He brought the blade down again and this time, she was only able to partially avoid it. His swing caught the outside of her arm, creating a fairly shallow cut.
"Don't do this Adam." She warned.
"Why not?" He asked her. "You won't fight back. You can't." He came at her again, missing her cheek by a disturbingly small margin.
"It's a nice try, but you're not going to force me to take your sword."
"I'm not trying to force you." He replied simply as he regrouped for another attack. "I'm trying to kill you."
Buffy gave a short, disbelieving laugh, but it was cut off abruptly by the look in Adam's eyes.
"You wouldn't kill me." She bluffed, for she could see just by looking at him that he was not above such an act. A cold realization passed through her, telling her that he had almost certainly killed innocent people in the past and whoever he had been then was not buried deep enough that he couldn't be resurrected if the need arose.
"Wouldn't I?" He countered, circling her now, waiting it seemed for the perfect opening. "I've tried everything Anne. I've tried reason, I've tried sympathy, I've tried understanding. I'm a watcher. It's my duty to see that the slayer does hers. This is the only solution. Your death will bring on another slayer and hopefully she will be more willing to co-operate."
"My death already called another slayer," Buffy spat. "And she's dead. But for all I know, her death as activated someone else. Why don't you find her to go on your suicide mission?"
"I don't believe you." Adam said simply as he lunged once more. Buffy managed to grab hold of a broomstick just in time for the sword to slice right through it as she used it to defend herself.
"And I don't believe you'll actually kill me." She said again, this time less sure of herself. You don't have it in you Adam."
"My name isn't Adam Pierson," he said darkly. "It's Methos. I am the oldest living immortal and you don't get to a position like that by being nice. You may be the slayer, but I am a killer. And if you can't do your duty, then I must do mine. It's the only solution."
"Why do I always end up hanging out with mass murderers?" She exclaimed aloud, suddenly seething with anger. The sword came at her again, but this time she was prepared. As it came down towards her head, she reached out with her hand and grabbed the blade, biting her lip as it sliced into her hand. With a swift yank, she managed to wrest the blade from Methos and flip it around before he could react. Her body became charged suddenly as his face disappeared and Angelus' appeared before her. She felt like a person possessed. This man was a killer. He had destroyed everything she had once, and now he was doing it again.
It didn't matter to her that Methos was not Angelus. To her they were now one in the same. Both killers, both trying to destroy her in some way or another. And if she could kill once, she could do it again.
"You really thought you could take me?" She yelled, her voice rising to near hysterical pitch.
"I'm not dead yet," he said calmly, staring without even blinking at the sword in her hand. She barely noticed its presence. "Come on then, do your worst."
With a cry of pure fury she launched herself at him, not even noticing it when the sword sliced through his abdomen and tore through his chest. She blinked as he fell to his knees, blood pouring out of the wound, which was certainly mortal. She looked down at him, unable to believe what she had just done.
"You did it," he whispered gently, almost proudly. "Now finish it. Take my head."
"No," she breathed, backing away and staring at the blood that now coated her hands. "Oh God, Adam I'm sorry!"
"Methos," he murmured, before he fell over and died.
