Author's Note: THANK YOU once again for anybody who has ever reviewed this story! Your reviews are like crack to me….err, or what I imagine crack would be like in review form….you get my point ;) Also, for those of you who have been requesting Buffy/Methos smoochies-fear not. I won't be keeping them in angsty painville forever (though it can be SO much fun sometimes ;))

Xander couldn't get the Italian girl he'd saved out of his mind. It had been more than a month since the incident and for some reason the conversation they'd had stuck with him.

He hadn't called her. He had thought about it of course, but couldn't think of any legitimate reason to. She may have believed him when he told her that the creature that had attacked had been a vampire, but that didn't mean she could handle his world. If someone had told him nine years ago what he would be doing night after night now and why, he would have laughed himself silly, had them committed-or both. Never in a million years would he have thought this would be his life.

And there was no changing that now. He was stuck…trapped in a self-imposed cycle of guilt, death wish, and rage. He didn't know if he could change now even if he wanted to. He knew he was hurting the others deeply and wished that he could talk to them, maybe help them to explain why he was doing this. But they couldn't understand. Not even Buffy, who undoubtedly knew more about pain and grief than all of them…she was the slayer, she knew about loss…but she never would have done what Xander had. She never would have left Dawn among the rubble in order to save her own life. She would have died finding someone she loved.

Xander was too cowardly for that. They just couldn't understand that.

But Isabel seemed to. Her name had stuck with him, along with the image of her anger at his rescue. Maybe it was the fact that she had been so angry with him that kept him thinking about her. Everybody else just cried and blubbered all over him. It made him hate himself even more to watch these people treat him like some kind of hero for saving their lives. He was no hero…he never would be. Heroes didn't leave their loved ones to die. If there was a handbook, that would be one of the first rules.

But Isabel hadn't blubbered, hell it had been like pulling teeth to even get a thank you at all from her. Xander appreciated that. It had almost seemed like she could understand the raw need that drove him to fight…almost like she knew what it was like herself.

But she couldn't. She had said herself she was just a normal girl. She hadn't known about vampires, hadn't known about slayers…the supernatural was clearly new territory for her, and yet she had seemed unafraid-curious even. It made him want to talk to her, to find out more about what made her tick, to find out why she seemed to understand, when not even his closest friends seemed able to.

But he couldn't do that to her. He wanted to talk to her again out of a selfish need to connect with someone after months and months of loneliness. It wouldn't be fair to call her for that reason. She didn't deserve to get dragged into his life, his fight. Nobody did. He had done it at first out of a desire to avenge what happened to Jessie, then to help impress Buffy and finally, just to help Buffy…to do whatever he could, however small to ease her personal burden as chosen one.

Now he wished there was someone out there that could do that for him, that could help him to free himself from the pattern he had created. It was slowly killing him and yet he couldn't stop.

Tonight had been fairly quiet. He had been patrolling various cemeteries, trying to think of reasons not to call Isabel, and at the same time trying to come up with a valid excuse for getting in touch after all this time.

He wanted someone to talk to. He missed that most of all. She had been so easy to talk to-so safe. She didn't know him…didn't know the others. For a brief second he had wondered if he had seen the same flame of anger in her eyes that burned in his. He had dismissed it the moment she had confessed her ignorance to the demonic world around him, but the vision lingered in his mind nevertheless.

As he crossed into another graveyard, he saw her. She was there, standing by one of the graves. He blinked his good eye, wondering if he was just imagining things. Maybe he was truly starting to lose it. He had been thinking about her all night and now he was 'seeing her' when she wasn't there.

Except she was there. She stood, bent over the gravestone, talking softly to it as he approached.

As he did so, he realized that she was talking to someone who had been close to her. He knew it was wrong to intrude on the moment, but he couldn't help himself. Curiosity overcame his sense of politeness and he stepped closer into hearing range.

Upon hearing his footsteps, she stopped whatever it was she had been saying and stiffened noticeably. Without turning, she spoke; her voice low and threatening.

"If you intend any harm, I suggest you turn back." Her hand reached to the side of her coat, but Xander couldn't see what-if anything-was inside.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He said quietly. She must have recognized his voice, for her shoulders fell and she turned to him, her face softening as she took him in. He took her in as well and realized that this time, in an open graveyard with the moonlight streaming over them, he could see her far more clearly than in the alley way where they had first met.

She was at least as tall as him, unusual since he himself was fairly tall. She was slender, but not skinny, with short dark hair and dark eyes. Her features weren't conventionally attractive, but struck Xander nonetheless as fiercely beautiful. She was a walking study in hard lines, and sharp curves.

And he was an American guy in torn jeans, faded t-shirt, worn baseball cap and a pirate eye patch. For some reason he felt suddenly inadequate.

"I didn't expect to see you again." She told him bluntly. "You didn't call."

"Did you think I would?" He cocked his head to the side curiously.

"No, not really." She admitted. "It was a fairly odd way to meet a person. Still, I had hoped…I mean, I had enjoyed talking to you."

"I should have, but I…" he trailed off, unable to explain his reasons to her in a way that would satisfy. He looked around, wishing for an escape. It had been stupid of him to approach her at all. This was a private moment. He didn't belong here.

"You're wondering about the grave aren't you?" She seemed to have read his mind and it showed on his face.

"I uh…I'm sorry to have interrupted you. I can leave if you want me to…if it's private, I mean."

"No, it's OK." She assured him. She gestured to the grave and he took a step closer. It had two names inscribed on it. Double plot obviously. Francis and Amalia DeLuca.

"They're my parents." She said, filling in the blanks. "They died about six months ago."

"I'm sorry." He knew it sounded trite, but he couldn't keep from saying it. "How…?"

"They were killed." She supplied, her mouth set in a hard angry line. "By someone very sick and very depraved."

"They ever catch him?" He knew the answer by the look in her eyes, but decided to ask anyway. He wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't even know this girl-not really, and yet he suddenly knew her very intimately at the same time.

"Men like Methos don't get caught." She replied grimly. She turned back to the grave, and then away from it again, facing Xander. "Anyway, I come out here sometimes at night to talk to them…it helps to work through stuff. It might sound silly…"

"It doesn't." Xander assured her. "Believe me, I know what it's like to lose someone you love." He swallowed the lump inside his throat that reminded him painfully that he could never go to Anya's grave and mourn her properly. She hadn't even been allowed that, and it was his fault.

"I figured that." She said with a small smile. "You ever talk to them?"

"Only in my dreams." He said sadly. "Look, I know how much you must miss them, but you really shouldn't come out here at night Isabel. I mean, the last time I met you, you were almost vamp food. This is where they hang out. I don't want to have to save your life again."

"Do women find your American arrogance charming?" She asked with a small chuckle. He bristled slightly.

"Those things are killers. It's not arrogance. I saved you before remember?" He shook his head, unsure of why he was even having this conversation. He had decided not to involve her in his world, yet all he seemed to be doing was pushing his luck.

"You did," she acknowledged. "And then I didn't hear from you again." She knew she shouldn't be talking to him. Her mother had said not to and had implied that he could somehow be involved with Methos. Isabel knew that her mother cared about her and just wanted to help, but she had a hard time thinking of the young man in front of her as evil, especially when her own feelings towards her parents were so confused right now. She had always trusted them, but lately they were becoming so very different from the people she had known. She had hoped that coming to their graves and talking to them without them being able to answer her back would help her in some way, but all it had done was frustrate her further. She shook her head from those thoughts and focused back on Xander who smiled slightly.

"Sorry I didn't get in touch…didn't know it was proper vampire saving protocol." His tone was light, but the easiness didn't match his expression. "All these Italian customs I'm still not up on…"

"You'll learn." She said with a tight smile. "Look, seriously thanks for the warning. I really didn't think about…well until I met you I'd never seen a vampire before. It really didn't occur to me that this might be…"

"Vampapalooza? Yea, this is pretty much it." At her confused expression, he smiled. "Pop culture reference…sorry. It's a habit. Look, you wanna get out of here? I'm pretty much done for the night and it really isn't safe out here alone…"

She shouldn't go with him. It was only encouraging badness and yet he didn't seem dangerous in any way. She was normally a fairly good judge of people and she wanted to talk to him at least a little more.

"I'd like that." She replied, closing her trench coat as they headed out of the graveyard.

They found a small all night café nearby and Isabel proceeded to introduce Xander to all kinds of Italian delicacies including Gelato, a type of ice cream that he made a mental note to mention to Dawn later.

Dawn…Buffy…it had been so long since he had had any sort of casual conversation with them he had almost forgotten what it felt like. It felt so easy talking to Isabel, that he forgot that it was no longer that easy talking to those closest to him. He couldn't simply go home and mention Gelato to Dawn. She would only stare at him with that pitying sadness of hers. He hated that.

"So tell me something about yourself." Isabel was saying. "I mean, I know your name, and the fact that you fight vampires….what else is there to know?"

"Not really much else to tell," he said with a halfhearted shrug. "I'm 23 years old. I used to live in California, but our town kinda…sunk into a giant gaping hole so we had to get out. We went to Paris first, then here. I used to work in construction before we came here, but now I'm…well I'm just here really."

"Wow…you're whole town was destroyed?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers and Xander wondered if she had read or heard about Sunnydale's destruction on the news. "Was that how…I mean, you said you lost somebody…"

"Yea…it was there." He looked away, not wanting her to see the naked pain that flitted across his face. "What about you? Tell me stuff about you."

"Like you said, there's really not much." She told him with an apologetic shrug. She had already told him too much as it was. She wondered if her parents would be angry that she had confided so much in him. "I've traveled with my parents ever since I was little so I never went to a regular school. I'm 21, and living off the inheritance I received since they…well they left everything to me. I've never really had any friends other than them. I know it must seem weird to you, but they were really all I had."

"You said you learned English at an expensive private school," he pointed out softly. She met his eyes and shrugged.

"I lied," she said bluntly. "I just didn't want to tell a stranger I had just met that my dead parents taught me English. Not exactly a good conversation starter."

"Families are important." He said, thinking not of his own family, but of the one he had made in high school. He suddenly missed Willow with a fierceness that surprised him. "I get that."

"It's strange," she said looking at him as if trying to see through him to something beyond. "I've never really had any friends, or known anybody my age. My life was pretty solitary and yet…I feel like I can talk to you. Might sound stupid, since I've only met you twice, but you seem…"

"Familiar." He finished for her. She nodded.

"Yea…that's it." She shrugged. "Even if you didn't call me."

"I didn't know what to say." He admitted. He pretended to lift an imaginary phone receiver and spoke into it. "Hey Isabel, it's Xander-you know, I saved your life from a vampire the other night? Yea, so I was wondering do you want to go out for coffee and talk about our pain?"

"OK, point taken." She said with a laugh at his antics. "I'm glad I ran into you here."

"Me too." He said with a smile that surprised him. She smiled back in an all too natural way that frightened her.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be encouraging him. Her parents had warned her for a reason. If he was connected with Methos in any way this could only end up hurting her and yet he seemed so harmless. She needed more information before she could let this get any further than it already was. She had to leave before he became more than a simple curiosity. She had to leave before he became a friend.

"Isabel?" He must have seen the falter in her smile because he stared at her in concern. "You all right?"

"Look, I have to get going." She said, standing abruptly and dropping some lyra on the table to pay for the coffee and Gelato. "I shouldn't have stayed here this long. It was nice talking to you Xander. I'll…I'll be in touch."

"No you won't." He stated, meeting her guilty gaze. "You don't even know how to contact me."
"I…" She didn't know what to say. How could she explain it to him?

"Do you want me to call you? Or did I do something?"

"I don't know. There are some…things I have to figure out." She wished her explanation didn't sound so lame.

"Look, don't worry about it." He said a little too quickly. It had been a mistake to involve her in his life to any degree anyway. Still, he couldn't let her go completely. Something about her made him want to try one more time. "Look how about this. I'll write my number down on this chair underneath it. If you want to talk to me again you can. If not…no sweat."

"Sure. That sounds fine." She gave a thin smile and turned to leave, not wanting to stay and watch him write it down. She didn't dare argue with having a way to contact him. If he truly was a danger she would need a way to get in touch with him…so she could deal with him. She knew it was necessary and yet she couldn't stay to watch him write it down as it felt too much like she was betraying him and she wasn't even sure why.