The demonic activity was getting much much worse. Buffy could see it happening by the day. With the Sunnydale Hellmouth gone, demons were coming to Rome in droves. It was clear this was the new 'badness central' and every demon in Europe seemed to want a piece of it.
When she started to patrol at first, she would only encounter one or two random vampires as she did so and maybe a demon on the odd night. Now, it was almost a given that she would fight at least three or four vamps and a few demons as well. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't necessarily the Hellmouth that attracted demonic activity, but rather the presence of a slayer that did so.
If that were the case, she should have been able to locate the errant slayer by now, but that had not happened and Buffy was beginning to wonder if Willow's vision had been a mislead entirely. The demonic activity was increasing day by day in Rome, but there wasn't a slayer it seemed-other than herself-in sight.
It was getting to be too much for her to handle alone, though she was loathe to admit that to anyone. Giles had offered to send backup to her multiple times, but she kept refusing. It was becoming clearer to her by the day that she could not involve the new slayers in this. Not when it was her fault that it was even happening to begin with.
She shook the thoughts from her head and forced herself to focus on the situation at hand. She had only been patrolling already for about half an hour, but had yet to encounter anything, which she considered fundamentally odd.
She decided to do another run of a near by cemetery as that tended to be where demons and more particularly vamps tended to congregate. She followed her hunch to the grave yard and hit pay dirt when she found herself surrounded by about six demons, two of which she had never encountered before-a feat which was rare in and of itself.
She took stock of the opponents, wondering if this was going to be a little too much for her to handle. Two of the demons she had fought before and knew that they were difficult to defeat on their own, let alone amongst a group. She was more than a little worried but tried not to let it show. She was the slayer. She had beaten Caleb, Glory, the Mayor and more vampires than she could even count. She could do this too.
"This is just dandy." She muttered. "Piece of cake…nothing to it…"
At least that's what she kept telling herself as the fight began. They were strong and they did not let up. She parried them all blow for blow, trying desperately to find some sort of higher ground, but they would not let up for her to do so.
She searched her mind desperately to remember some tricks that would help her, but came up blank. A demon attacked from the side, but she was too slow to block the punch. It sent her flying backwards and into a garbage can, as she let out a 'whoosh' of surprise.
The wind was knocked out of her, causing it to take a few seconds before she could stand again. Once she did, she was surprised with a sharp uppercut to the jaw that made her teeth rattle. She reeled backwards, trying desperately to regain her footing, but only ended up backing into another one of the more difficult demons who hit her in the side, cut her feet out from under her, and swung her round to receive another sharp punch to the face.
Reaching out blindly she managed to hit the demon that had her by the lapel and break free momentarily. She could taste blood already, that familiar metallic scent that was unmistakable to a slayer and it made her grimace. She knew from the pain she felt that her nose was bleeding, possibly broken. She couldn't dwell on it though-nor the ringing pain she felt in her head. That would cost her precious seconds and she didn't have those to spare right now.
Swinging around quickly, she managed to execute a strong roundhouse kick into the mid-chest area of one of her attackers which freed her up to rain various punches into those who had hurled themselves into the fray once the other demon had been flung back. It was getting harder to fend off all of them. They were stronger, faster, and more alert tonight. She just wasn't there…her game was gone.
She started to become genuinely afraid. She was alone. Her friends didn't know where she was, and there was nobody that would be of any use against these guys even if they did. Well, Methos might be…
No, she couldn't think that way. This was her job not his and she would be damned if she was going to die in some random alley way fighting your average run-of-the-mill evil demon.
No, if she was going out it would be in an apocalypse of some sort. It'd just be lame to die any other way.
Gritting her teeth in determination, she ducked down and rolled under one of the demons legs, jumping up and hitting two others quickly and succinctly. Before they could react, she had managed to pull her stake from her pocket and stake them both in the heart. They might not have been vampires, but it did the trick all the same. She had discovered very early on, that although they didn't turn to dust, most demons could not survive a stake through the heart. It was classic that way.
With two down, she was able to turn on the four that were now closing in on her. They had backed her into a corner and she was having trouble dodging the various blows that came her way. At one point she lost contact with one of the demons on the other side and found herself being rammed into the concrete wall of the alley for her troubles.
The night swam for a moment, and she had to blink to try to regain her focus. She touched her head gingerly and felt the stickiness of more blood. She growled and jammed her fist into an approaching demon angrily. They had her cornered and they knew it.
"No you don't," she ground out angrily. "Not without a fight."
Just as she began to retaliate, she felt the familiar buzz of an immortal's approach. It startled her so much, she didn't pay attention to the demon behind her, who grabbed her roughly and threw her towards the sound of the buzz. She landed at Methos' feet quite unceremoniously. She could hear him drawing his sword as she stood up to stand beside him.
"Need a hand?" He smiled at her, and she glared back. With renewed fury, she charged first into the gang of four demons and killed off another one almost as an after thought. Methos dispatched two of the other demons fairly easily freeing her up to kill the last one, though he went down pretty hard.
As soon as they were gone, she rounded on Methos, attacking him angrily before he could even speak.
"What the hell was that?" She wasn't entire certain of why she was so annoyed with his intervention, only that she was-severely.
"I think the word you're looking for is 'thank you'." He countered mildly, though his eyes showed hurt by her anger. "And that was me helping you. In case you hadn't noticed, you were in rather desperate need of it."
"When did you become a boy scout?" She demanded. She was winded and hated that he could see it. She didn't need his help. She had saved the world damn it. So why should a simple demon attack make her so angry? She really should be thanking him for his help, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. She shouldn't have needed it. She should be beyond this by now. After all she had done…
"About the same time you became the lone ranger." He shot back. His tone was flat and cold now. It was obvious he didn't much care for her comparing him to Duncan. She knew it would get to him, and she was right.
"In case you've forgotten, fighting these things is my job." She turned and began walking out of the alley, not even looking back to see if he was following her. She didn't want him near her, didn't want to see the concern in his eyes at the blood flowing freely from her wounds. She felt embarrassed that he had to save her, and was using it to lash out. This was her job, not his. What the hell was he even doing here?
"Was your job," he retorted, matching her stride. She was pretty badly battered, but he had a feeling she'd been through worse. What he couldn't understand was her anger. He had been seeing her coming back from her nightly patrols with increasing amounts of bruises, but refused to talk about it whenever he had inquired as to the nature of them. She had all but cut him out of her life, since he had brought his feelings out in the open at Le Blues Bar and it hurt him deeply to think they had grown so far apart that she wouldn't even tell him when she was in danger.
He began to follow her at night, from a safe enough distance that she wouldn't be able to detect his presence. The fights had indeed been getting more intense, but she had always managed to prevail, so he refrained from stepping in. Tonight however, she seemed in genuine danger and as a result his feelings had gotten the better of him. He was regretting it now as he glimpsed at the cold anger within her eyes.
She had told him she was different than before, but he had never really seen true evidence of that until now. She was closed off in an almost vital way. The slayer lore, like immortal lore said there could be only one. But she had changed that. She had so many slayers now that could help. Why had she not called for any of them?
"IS my job," she corrected in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm the slayer."
"There you go mixing your pronouns again," he told her, attempting to lighten his tone to deflect some of her anger. "You're not the only one remember? Why haven't you called them for help? This is way too much for just you."
"I can handle it." Her tone seemed almost detached, and her eyes looked straight ahead. Still, as she spoke, he could see her lip tremble ever so slightly. There was definitely more to this. "They can't…not yet."
"You know that for sure?" He asked gently. Had she even seen the progress they had made? He would guess that by now they would have enough training to at least handle some of the smaller time stuff. Surely traveling in groups was better than being alone.
"I know a lot more than you do." She said firmly, clenching her fists as she spoke. She thought back to all the potentials that died during the battle with the first before Spike's amulet kicked in. All those faces, slayers whose names she hadn't even bothered to learn. It would not happen again. "They're too green. They're not ready. Not for this…it's too big."
"They're slayers." He reiterated.
"They're children." Her jaw set itself in a stubborn expression he remembered all too well.
"So were you."
"I was different." She insisted.
"Well la-di-dah!" He burst out, unable to contain his anger. "You're right, you have changed. There's nothing less attractive you know than an over imaginative superiority complex."
"That's not what I think!" She said hotly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"You don't think you're better?" He grabbed her arm and turned her roughly to face him. She shook him off, but did not turn away and continue walking.
"No…yes…" she shook her head, trying to formulate a coherent response. Her head hurt like hell and she tasted blood every time she swallowed. This was the last argument she wanted to be having right now. "Not in that way."
"Which is why this shouldn't be your responsibility alone." His tone was gentler now and she could tell he was worried about her injuries. "Help is available. You made that possible. Why won't you take it?"
"Because it's my fault," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear it. "If I hadn't been so selfish as to want to quit this job, those girls never would have been called all at once and this fight wouldn't be happening. I created the problem. I should be the one to fight it."
"What's happening to you?" He asked, sounding more confused than angry. "Did you suddenly decide to channel Duncan MacLeod? At the moment you have both his guilt complex and his uncanny ability to rewrite history!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.
"It means that I'm calling you on this load of bull." He said flatly. "I know you better than you think. When you created those slayers you told me you did it to allow those girls to gain control of the power they were meant to have. You allowed them to realize their destiny, so none of you would be alone. Now you're claiming it was a selfish attempt to quit? I know you want to keep those girls safe, but you are only one person. Those girls are slayers, just like you were. If anybody should realize the benefits of teamwork when it comes to slaying, it's you."
"What benefits?" She cried, losing her hard won grasp of her emotions. Faces flitted through her mind, Xander's being the most prominent as she thought of all her failures. "My best friend losing an eye? The other becoming a killer? People I love dying left right and center? Where are the benefits here, oh wise Methos? I'd really like you to tell me."
"You're still alive." He said quietly. That stilled her momentarily. "Your friends-all of them, took the risks they took to help keep you alive. You've beaten death twice thanks to them. I'm sure if you asked them, they would make those same sacrifices a hundred times over to help keep you safe."
"But they shouldn't have to!" She burst out. "This isn't their burden. It never was. Those girls that I made slayers will have to face enough without dealing with this. It's too much for them."
"It's too much for just you." He whispered, reaching out to touch her head wound ever so gently to prove it. She flinched at his touch, though not because of any particular pain caused by him. She was trying not to feel her heart speed up when he touched her, trying not to want to lean into his touch, to get lost in his gentle expression.
"I can handle it," she told him, but her voice was decidedly weaker this time. "I didn't need your help back there. I had it covered."
"You were cornered." His words were blunt and bare. "They would have worn you down eventually."
"I'm not that easy to kill." She glared at him, summoning her anger around her like a shield. If she could stay angry she couldn't feel for him. Couldn't want to touch him…pull him closer. "I've saved the world more times than I care to count remember? A couple of demons are a walk in the park."
"Pretty violent park you have going on here." He reached out again, but she had already turned away, walking faster this time. He caught up with her without a problem.
"They were just demons." She said as she walked. "Regular demons. They couldn't have killed me."
"You're not too powerful to die an ordinary death." He spoke with an odd sort of wistfulness that caused her to glance out of the corner of her eye at him. His normally secretive hazel eyes held a deep and profound look of sadness that caused her to soften momentarily towards him. Coming from a man as old as he, this was obviously a particularly difficult lesson for him to have learned.
"I've been dead," she reminded him with some humour to her tone. "Twice. I don't plan to let it happen again till I'm an old lady who can't find her teeth in the morning."
"You're not immortal." He told her. They had slowed to a comfortable pace, while he glanced at her face in the moonlight. "Even though you feel like one…you're not. The next time you die Buffy…"
"It'll be for good." She said with a shuddering breath. "I know. I got it. Point taken OK?"
"I would miss you." He told her with a tenderness in his voice that somehow managed to reach the very core of her. He sounded scared…vulnerable even and that made her want to reassure him, rather than berate him. He was too good at this…too close to her heart. It frightened her. "I would miss you more than you could know."
"I know." Her voice was hoarse, a fact which made her angry. She didn't want him to know how deeply he was affecting her. She turned to him and smiled, though it was forced. "Look, thanks for the bail back there, but I really was fine. Just…leave me alone for a bit, OK Methos? Don't follow me, or help me. I can do this. I have to do this by myself."
Before he could say anything to the contrary, she broke into a run, heading back to the villa. She was both grateful and disappointed that he didn't try to run after her.