Buffy shoved herself into a small crevice in the catacombs. This was what you got when a city was older than dirt. Ruins buried under modern conveniences. Ruins filled with demons. Demons with razor like talons and a tendency to snatch little kids from the streets. She'd managed to free the kid. Should have stopped there. She shouldn't have followed the thing into this hole. She took several breaths. The tape was holding the slice along her thigh shut. She'd managed to slay five of the things before running from the nest.

Maybe their sense of smell sucked from living down here. The torch light flickered. She couldn't remember how to get out of here. There was a left and a right. Everything looked familiar but not familiar enough to lead her up into the living world. She closed her eyes. Slayers died alone. It was the way of things even now.

She had wanted to go down in a great battle, but an ancient sewer would have to do. She could hear the demons approaching, their talons sliding along the wall. There were twelve. Each with ten razor sharp talons. She bit down, fighting the cold and lethargy, andtried to remember what the sun felt like on her face. God, she wanted to die with a happy thought, but there was nothing.

She slid out into the narrow passage. They would have to come straight at her. Blood loss and hunger were her real enemies. She was weak. She clutched her short sword. She would go down fighting.

She wondered how many days had passed since Christmas. Giles was probably frantic. She hated leaving him with the mess of her life. She wiped at her tears. Blurry vision would not help her now.

The first demon came into sight. She could see the odd shine of its claws reflecting the torch light.

"You killed huntress, must die." The thing hissed.

"You feed off children. Pretty sure I'm gonna enjoy cutting you down." Buffy readied her blade. It wasn't the battle she wanted, but she would take as many of these demons with her as she could.

Life was precious, and she would spend hers lessening the threat to children. It was something, not stopping an apocalypse or killing off a master, but something.

The first thing launched at her with a bird like screech and she swung her blade. The splatter of its foul smelling blood hit her as the body fell. Her eyes were already focused on the next one.

Eleven now. She kicked the head of the first one behind her.

The second attacked with a swing of its feathered arm. Buffy parried and felt the sword hit bone and bite.

Lesson the First. She clenched the hilt in both hands and wrenched with all her strength, freeing the blade.

Buffy shifted her weight and thrust straight, skewering her opponent. Falling to her knees, she wrenched the sword up and back tossing the split carcass over her shoulder. She spun and sliced the oncoming demon in half as she regained her feet.

The floor was slick.

Three down.

Deep breaths.

God. What would Spike do?

The next demon hesitated. Buffy narrowed her eyes. A feint.

Spike would win and so would she.

Buffy let her body turn just enough to fool the beast. It rushed her side, thinking its ploy had succeeded.

That was four.

She advanced a step and drove the heel of her boot down into the dead flesh. It was better than slick stone.

Two small demons rushed forward, one perched on the other.

She held the sword over her head until they were within reach and brought it down. Hacking and swinging as the tunnel allowed, she advanced.

Six down.

Spin kick, and follow with the blade.

Seven.

Feint left. Swing right. Wrench the blade free.

Eight.

Advance. Three in the widest part of the tunnel. Breathe.

The demons charged. Buffy swung high, taking a head, both hands on the hilt of her sword. Talons raked her back. The warm gush of her blood was nothing. She kicked out like a mule and swung her blade at the opponent before her.

They circled her, black feathers and shiny talons reflecting blue and red in the flaring torch light. She limped and dropped the sword's point in sloppy circles. The flow of blood down her back was slowing, but she hunched, letting the light shine against the wet slick.

Draw them in. Have to take all three. Can't do this again.

She slumped a bit more and they stepped into range.

Too eager. The slayer is the weapon.

She spun high, snapped a kick at the largest, sliced through the throat of another and landed square on the chest of one. She plunged her sword in and sliced down, spilling viscera over her feet. The last one hissed as it regained its feet.

Stupid. Quiet. Woulda had a chance. She whirled and tossed her weapon with the last of her strength. She fell to her knees as the world seemed to fade around her.

Time faded in and out. She could hear the pounding of feet on the stone. She forced her eyes open, but couldn't turn her head.

"Buffy." Warm hands stroked her cheek and she smiled.

Heaven. Warm. Loved.

A familiar face appeared over her, Oz. He appeared to be taking note of her injuries. His touch was wonderful. She closed her eyes.

"Buffy, stay with me." He touched her cheek and she blinked.

"I won." Buffy grinned.

"Giles, hurry up. She's in bad shape." Oz looked over his shoulder.

"Bulgar Harpies, oh, dear lord. What was she thinking?"

"Kids. They eat children. Christmas." Buffy coughed. "Not on my watch. Get my sword."

She leaned into Oz's hand. He didn't hate her. He hadn't lost everything because of her. She sighed.

"Missed you." Buffy coughed and groaned as the gashes on her body pulled and bled.

"I missed you, too, Buffy." He stroked her forehead. "Gonna take care of you."