"I don't like this…" Buffy told Methos a week or so later. She was quickly becoming more and more uneasy about the entire situation. "We're in Rome to stop the First from pulling some major voo doo badness that has something to do with a slayer nobody can find. I don't like, it. Something feels off."

"Things are getting worse out there, aren't they?" Methos' voice was soft, but the words themselves hit home. Every night she went out to patrol she faced something bigger and badder, and nastier. Even if the First hadn't shown itself, the other demons that flocked to the Hellmouth in droves were feeding off the energy radiating from the center of it. And Buffy was fighting blind. In Sunnydale they had the advantage of at least knowing the exact physical location of the Hellmouth itself.

Here in Rome however, she hadn't managed to find it, and every night she was attacked in a different place while on patrol. She hadn't wanted Methos to accompany her, but it had gotten too dangerous for her to go out alone. She was a slayer, but she was still mortal, and the odds were becoming continuously more dangerous.

Methos was not a fighter by nature. She knew he much preferred the 'run and hide' scenario to her 'stand and kick ass' one. But he had also been a Watcher and she knew that part of him still was. He would fight if she asked him to, and at this point she had no other choice. She would not risk her sister or Richie in this sort of thing. Xander was already a lost cause and she prayed every night that he would return in one piece.

Looking over at the man who sat next to her, his hazel eyes deep in thought, she felt a warmth spread through her that she hadn't felt in a long time. He had been there. Every time she had needed him, no matter how badly she treated him, he had been there. Quiet and patient, waiting in the background for her to realize the depth of his feelings. She hated that it had taken her so long.

"Buffy?" His voice was soft and questioning. "Are you with me?"

"I am," she responded with a rueful chuckle. "Just…thinking. It's getting bad. Really bad. I don't know what to do. I want to call Giles, but I think he's just as lost as I am."

"What about the other girls?" Methos asked her. She grimaced a the line of conversation, but heard him out nonetheless. "We might need them soon. There are only two of us, and the demon population is growing by the day."

"Three if you count Xander," she said absently.

"I don't," Methos' tone was regretful, almost as if Xander were already dead. Buffy bit her lip and refused to think along those lines. "He's too dangerous to himself to be of any help now. We need more slayers."

"I don't want them here," she insisted.

"Do we have to have this conversation again?"

"It's not about me protecting them," she interrupted before they could launch into that familiar argument. "At least, not the way you think. Methos, I did this. That spell that called them, caused this to happen. If they fight it…what if it only makes it worse? What if I tip the balance even further? I can't risk it."

"You might not have any other choice." He took her hand, and softly kissed the palm of it. "I'm immortal, and older than any man out there, but even I can be killed. I hate to think that something might happen and I won't be here to…"

"I'm not like her Methos," she told him quietly. She was referring to the slayer that Methos had loved and lost back in his days with the slayer branch of the Watcher's council. "I'm not going to die that easily. And neither are you. You've made a lifetime out of it, haven't you?"

"Yeah, well eventually it will catch up with me," he warned her. "And when it does, I don't want to leave you without backup."

"What do you do when you're in too deep?" She asked him. He chuckled.

"Me? Well before I met MacLeod or you, I would run and hide," He shook his head. "Now, I guess I stand beside you…win or lose."

"You think I'm not doing the right thing, don't you?" She looked into his eyes, desperately looking for some clue as to how he was feeling, but like the ocean, his eyes remained deep and fathomless.

"Honestly? I don't know," he sighed and stood up. "I don't have all the answers. I never have. Wisdom does not come with age, no matter how much we wish it did."

"And here I thought you could give Yoda a run for his money," she teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"I'm a little taller than he is," he pointed out reasonably. "And hopefully a bit better looking."

"You are that," she said, moving towards him and taking his hands to pull him closer. She reached up to cup his face and draw him to her. He did without hesitation, kissing her deeply and soundly until she pulled back, a smile on her face.

"Are you doing this to change the subject?" He whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck softly, causing goosebumps to run up and down her arms. She ran her fingernails through his hair, as he did so, sighing with pleasure at the feelings he could create with his lips and tongue.

"Is it working?" She murmured breathlessly. He nipped her chin lightly in response and she found herself laughing at the merriment that twinkled in his eyes.

"You don't have to coerce me into something like this Buffy," he told her, his voice husky, "ever."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied as she reluctantly pulled back from him. Much as she wanted to throw him down on the couch and explore every bit of the world's oldest man, they didn't have that luxury. She had lost another person on patrol the night before, and something had to be done. Somehow, some way, she had to find that slayer. "I keep thinking I should call Willow."

"You've called Willow three times this week," he pointed out patiently. "She hasn't found anything."

"Her headaches are getting worse," she confided. Willow hadn't told her as much, but she could hear on the phone how tired and weary Willow sounded, every time they spoke. All was not well in Brazil, and Buffy ached to go there and help her best friend, but her mission prevented it. This had been so much easier when they were all in Sunnydale, all working together.

"Any idea what's behind them?" He wondered. She could see the naked concern on his face, even though he had only met the red head once, and it touched her that he cared so much.

"The First, I'm almost certain of it," she replied, "but I can't figure out why. Maybe if we stopped looking for the slayer and tried to find the Hellmouth itself."

"I can give Joe a call later," he offered. "There might be something in the Watcher's databases that can help with that."

"Good idea," she agreed with a nod of her head. "Hey, by the way, where's Dawnie?"

"She left a little while ago," Methos replied.

"That's odd," Buffy murmured. "Richie said they had a date tonight."

"You think she's avoiding him?" He wondered. Buffy shrugged.

"Maybe, though I can't see why. They were starting to become really close." She sighed and took his hand, running her own fingers over his larger, longer ones. "Things are never easy aren't they?"

"If they were, that would take all the fun out of it," he replied with a slight smile. She laughed a little at that, and settled into the crook of his arm.

"We should patrol soon," she said as they sat there in silence. "It's getting late."

"How much longer do you think we can go on like this?" He asked, knowing that the question needed to be voiced, no matter what.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Methos I love you. I do, but I don't have any answers. I'm just…stuck in this trying desperately to dig myself out of a hole I dug."

"You have to stop blaming yourself," he told her.

"I can't," she exclaimed in frustration. "It's part of me, part of how I work. If I stop caring about what happens to those people out there, then I'm no better than the demons I fight."

"And to think, you wanted nothing to do with this world when we met," he said with a shake of his head. She allowed herself a smile at the memory of first meeting him after killing Angel and leaving Sunnydale.

"I was a different person," she said sadly. "I still believed that everything would work out in the end. Life isn't like that."

"No," he agreed meeting her gaze and kissing her gently. "But sometimes things work out anyway."

"Did you really love me back then?" She asked him, needing to know that she still possessed whatever qualities that had originally drawn him to her in the first place. She needed to know that she wasn't just a killer.

"Yes," he told her and then chuckled, "and no. God, I hated how stubborn you were. And yet, I wouldn't change that for anything. You did what you had to Buffy and I know you will now too. You're still the same person. Don't ever think that you're not."

"Are you the same person?" She asked, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer. "After all these years, after all you've done."

"I'm still me," he said, so quietly she could barely hear him. "I was never a good man, Buffy. Just a man. Sometimes it's hard enough to be that."

"I think you're good," she told him, running a fingernail down his collarbone and into the neck of his sweater. They had an hour or so before the sun set. Right now, she just wanted to pretend that she was a normal girl, on the couch with her normal boyfriend. Right now, she just wanted to feel alive, before going out to face all that death. Methos seemed to sense it because he pulled her hand around his neck and leaned in to kiss her deeply.

"How good am I?" His voice was a throaty whisper between kisses.

"I don't know," she said back, "looks like we'll just have to run some tests and see."

Although they were still hesitant with their new relationship, Buffy was content to pull him to her and allow the next hour to be filled with his kisses, his touch and his voice like liquid velvet murmuring in her ear. She couldn't pretend the world did not exist, but she could allow herself to enjoy it for a little while.

They wouldn't be able to play the waiting game too much longer.

The first would soon make its move, and Buffy had a feeling that when it did, it would be like nothing she had ever faced before.