Xander sat outside Joe's bar, frustrated at the night's progress up to this point. He had gone out that night, as he did every night attempting to find and engage Paris' demonic nightlife in battle. It was the only thing that served to help ease his nightmares, the only thing that could stop the humming in his skin that told him he had to do something. He couldn't save Anya, but he could take out his rage in other ways and he did just that as often as he could.

It wasn't as easy as it had been in Sunnydale though. There had been a Hellmouth there, and thus the demon population had been fairly large. In Paris it was different. He had been out every night, and was lucky to average one or two vampires in a week. They weren't as difficult to kill either. He wasn't sure if it was because his anger made him stronger and almost completely fearless, or if the vampires in Paris were easier because they weren't as used to human resistance as the Sunnydale vamps. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

In either case, he hadn't managed to find any that night and was reluctant to enter Joe's until he did. He had gone on several 'patrols' around Joe's bar looking, but so far there was nothing.

He knew he should go inside and join the others, but was unable to bring himself to do so. The night felt unfinished and he didn't want to have to pretend to be enjoying himself for the sake of Buffy and the others. For the first time he got an inkling of how Buffy had felt after Willow brought her back from heaven, putting on a brave face so as not to disappoint or bother the others with his pain.

He looked up at the door, contemplating whether to go in or just go back to Adams' when he heard a sound behind him that caused him to jump up and lunge, fists at the ready at his perceived attacker.

He was shocked when the person on the other end stopped his attack by grabbing his wrists, and shoving him up against the wall of Joe's, effectively holding him in place. When his eyes finally focused, he was startled to discover that it was the Highlander Duncan MacLeod holding him firmly in place.

"Over reacting a little, don't you think?" He spat bitterly. Duncan let him go and stepped back.

"I could say the same for you." He didn't sound angry, but his body language implied that he was unapologetic about his actions. For some reason that angered Xander, even though he knew he was in the wrong.

It didn't make any sense. Duncan MacLeod had been nothing but friendly to him and yet he had taken an intense dislike to not only him, but to Adam Pierson, the Watcher and the kid Richie Ryan that Dawn seemed to like so much as well. They represented a world that Buffy and the others seemed to have no problems fitting into, whereas all Xander could think about was Sunnydale and the world he knew.

He couldn't adjust like they could, and he hadn't even bothered trying. In fact, he had done his best to avoid Duncan and the others. It looked as if tonight that would not be possible. He stared at the man defiantly.

"You attacked me," he pointed out. "I was just sitting here."

"And I was just walking to the bar." Duncan replied, still unfazed by Xander's hostile nature. "But I think you were waiting for a fight."

"You have no idea what I was waiting for!" Xander shot back, annoyed that his purpose was so painfully obvious to the other man.

"I know," Duncan said quietly. "You can hide it from the others, but I've seen that look before. I've had it. I know you."

"You don't know anything about me." Xander said, but this time his voice was a little less certain. Duncan shrugged.

"Let me guess. Someone you loved deeply died when the town fell," Duncan supposed confidently. "You think you should have been able to save her, but couldn't. You're blaming yourself now."

"A lot of people died that day," Xander replied, refusing to let him know he was right. "Pretty easy assumption to make. I suppose now you're gonna tell me how you know what it feels like and you've been there before? That I shouldn't be angry or blame myself?"

"I do know," Duncan told him with quiet gentleness. The simple declaration caused Xander's anger to reach a boiling point.

"Yea, sure everybody knows how it feels don't they?" He lashed out. "But you don't! So you lost your girlfriend…what did she die of old age? I'm sad for you man, but you have no idea what I'm feeling, so just back off."

"If you're referring to Tessa, she was shot by a mugger who was so strung out he had no idea what he was doing." Duncan said calmly, but pain flickered through his gaze as he spoke. "And I understand what it's like to be angry."

"Yea, sure whatever." Xander was tired of this exchange and decided that enduring his friend's concerned gazes was preferable to this 'after school special' attempt at help. He turned to go, but was stopped when Duncan placed a strong hand on his shoulder to restrain him. Furious, Xander unleashed his pent-up anger and whirled on the Scot, hitting him squarely in the face.

Duncan stumbled back a foot or so, but quickly recovered shooting out an arm and grabbing Xander so tightly by the throat that he almost choked. He slammed him up against the wall so hard Xander saw stars before his eyes. When he looked into the Highlander's eyes, they were full of a quiet, controlled anger that told Xander he had pushed the man's tolerance to the limit.

"You think I don't understand the rage? You think I don't know how you feel? I lived with a native woman once….Sioux. She was everything to me, and when her tribe was attacked and her people slaughtered I wasn't there. Do you hear me? I wasn't there! I got back to find her, and my adopted son scalped and left lying there. And it wasn't just them. An entire village killed and I might have been able to save them. The scalpers were white like myself, but after that I couldn't even bare to consider myself one of them. I hated them all, and I did my best to hunt and kill as many of them as possible. Everyone was guilty to me. It didn't matter who they were, or whether they had even been there. But it didn't help. It didn't bring Little Deer, or Kahani back. They were still as dead when I had finished as they were when I found them. Nothing will change that."

"You think that's my problem?" Xander laughed harshly. "Yea, I couldn't protect her, and yea I hate myself for it, but you still don't get it." He shoved Duncan's arm away, refusing to allow himself to be bullied. "You lost her, but you got to bury her. You didn't just leave her there. You didn't just abandon her."

"You think I've never left men behind?" Duncan sounded genuinely surprised. "I've been in more wars than you will ever see. You think I've never seen my brothers fall beside me and not been able to carry their bodies home to their loved ones?"

"Makes you quite the coward then, doesn't it?" Xander spat bitterly. He refused to allow Mac to tell him he wasn't at fault. If he let go of that, there would be nothing left to cling to. Xander wasn't ready to let go of the hate.

"No," Duncan told him sadly. "It makes me human. That's all you are as well."

"Just leave me be." Xander said softly.

"You're not going to be any help to your friends by killing yourself." Duncan cautioned him. "That's what you're trying to do, isn't it? I can see it in your eyes. You keep going out looking for a fight and sooner or later you'll find one and it might be something you can't handle. You really want to die that badly?"

"I don't wanna die," Xander told him, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't. I'm just not sure I wanna live. Not like this."

"Come inside," Duncan suggested, motioning towards the door. Xander shook his head and turned away. Duncan nodded, realizing he was not going to get any further and went inside the bar. Xander sat down after the door shut, laid his head in his hands and allowed the tears to come.

After he had done so, he decided to make one more patrol. He desperately wanted to kill something, anything if it would help quiet the demons that plagued him tonight. One more patrol and then he would go inside.