Past Tense
Fourth in the "Spinning Wheels" series.
Other fan fiction by Alexandra Huxley

SPOILER: Normal Again (6th season)

Warnings and disclaimers:
1) If you're a Riley hater, don't bother reading this fic; everyone else, enjoy.
2) The story's mine, but the characters in this piece belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., and a lot of other people who are not me.

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It was always the same:

The sound of the dry twigs snapping underfoot and the crisp, cool night air.

Graham, ten feet ahead, taking point, the black of his uniform showing as green in the night vision lenses. His closed fist up in the air – stop. Pumped once, twice, two fingers up – two at two o’clock.

I look to the right to scope out the situation. Two hostiles? Civilians? Graham couldn’t tell either or he would have signaled.

Fanning out now. Off to the right while Graham moves straight ahead, the rest of the squad to the left and behind, moving forward silently. A man and a woman come into view. I push my goggles off as I crouch at the edge of the clearing.

The man’s back all too familiar – peroxide blonde hair buried in the woman’s neck, his long black leather coat obscuring her body from view. Her back to the wall of the tomb, her hands above her head, wrists pinned by the man’s grip. Long blonde hair trailing down her back and her chin tilted up towards the sky, offering no resistance.

Frozen in place – unable to step forward or back, avoiding Graham’s glance as he raises the crossbow to his shoulder, unable to do anything but watch her face. Her eyes closing as Spike presses roughly against her – urgently, desperately. She suddenly looks up and our eyes lock as she smiles. The way she used to. Her body beneath me, always willing; her heart never yielding.

Her eyes close again as her lips part and her hands clench. Her back arches away from the wall and a gasp escapes her throat; it is carried by the wind. Spike, with one hand behind her head and the other gripping her shoulder, pulls her to him in a close embrace, shifting slightly as he turns to me, his evil, gloating, satiated smile dripping in blood. A monster’s smile that broadens as he hears the arrow closing in at breakneck speed; he raises his arms above his head as the tip pierces his heart. An all out laugh ending abruptly as he turns to dust.

Spike’s body disintegrates and Buffy crumples to the ground, her eyes still open as she watches me come to her. I reach her and she turns away.

“That was it, Riley. That was the package,” she says, her voice fading more with each word until it’s barely a whisper.

Falling in slow motion towards her lifeless body, almost reaching her – so achingly close, before being suddenly pushed back, the backs of my knees hitting something as I sink down. I look down in confusion at the ball in my hand.

“You don’t got game, son.”

Can’t help but answer his grin with a smile of my own. I try to find the words to explain everything I couldn’t before, but the only one that makes it out is, “Forrest.”

He grabs the ball and throws it at the net as the door opens.

“Alpha code blue, Riley,” says Graham.

“One of ours?” I ask.

Graham looks at Forrest and smiles, his face morphing into Walsh’s as she says, “It’s about Buffy. She’s dead, Riley.”

I know that. I saw her die. I let it happen, powerless to stop her from going away.

A sudden rush of air and everything is changing. Lowell House disappears from view, replaced by dank, damp walls and stainless steel tables. Someone needs to tell Buffy that she’s going to die. It’s not too late if we just apply ourselves and get it done.

I try to get up but my arms are pinned. The metal chair is cold against the back of my neck. Forrest is coming closer and closer until his face is only inches away from mine.

“She needed killing, soldier,” Forrest says and then laughs, raising his arms up and throwing another ball at the Nerf hoop as we are back in my room again. “I am kickin’ your weak ass.” He lets out a yell and brings his hands up over his head.

I open my mouth to warn him, but it’s too late. I close my eyes against the flash, opening them again as my back hits the ground. The sparks from the explosion transform into a blinding light hovering above me, a spotlight that grows weaker as the helicopter lifts higher into the air. Sam barely glances down as she laughs with Graham, their faces turning away.

I yell Sam’s name and try to reach out to her, but something holds me down. A woman’s body on top of mine, her knees straddling my waist and pinning me to the ground. Her hands surprisingly strong, forcing my shoulders flat; tongue teasing, slowly moving up my chest. A quick intake of breath as she finds what she’s looking for and cuts into me, blood spilling out of her mouth and tickling, trickling down my neck.

My hands at her waist, I try to push her off, but she’s too strong. I try to use my legs as leverage, and lift my hips to shift her weight. It works for a moment – she disengages and sits back, startled; a little flustered. But my struggle only excites her and she leans down to my face, nipping at my lips, pushing my mouth open until her tongue touches mine and I can taste my own blood. She somehow stretches her tiny body the full length of mine – covering every inch of me until I can no longer move.

I feel her laugh before I hear it, muffled against my throat as she moves back to the part of me she now owns and she slips her teeth inside me again. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much pain – how could I not have felt it before? – but I refuse to cry out. It’s the only thing I have left to control as my body bucks against her, muscles and nerves trembling and twitching as my life drains away. Even my mind betrays me and I start to give in.

Someone is begging – “Harder. Deeper.” I detest this weak, pathetic man. I guess I should at least feel sympathy for his pain, but he deserves what he gets. He has only himself to blame.

I sense the tears more than feel them; fight against them with all my will, not wanting her to know that she has taken everything from me. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction. Trying to remember the exact moment I gave up.

Too much thinking; the physical pain is so much easier to bear.

I welcome death, freedom finally within reach – so achingly close. But she possesses me, brands me with a sharp nail down my jaw, not drawing blood because there’s so little left. She throws her head back and scratches her own neck and it sprouts to life.

All I see – hear, smell, feel – is blood. It permeates every sense before I even taste it. With more strength than I knew I had left, I pull her to me and drink hungrily. My hands roam her body and I feel every thread in her shirt, every pore on her skin, every strand of her hair.

I want to taste her. Devour her. Start with her lips and work my way down. I know I should fight against this, but I don’t have it in me.

This is who I’ll be. This is what I lost. This is how I lost it.

This is all that’s left.

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Buffy came awake slowly, her head pounding. That was never good. In her experience a headache that you woke up with was one you couldn’t shake for the rest of the day. A day she hoped wouldn’t be as bad as the day before.

What a miserable day.

What a shitty, sodding, bloody, fucking, miserable day. And if anyone heard her say that they would know exactly how awful it was because she never swore.

She shifted and a heavy hand fell across her chest. Riley's hand. The one part of yesterday that she wouldn’t mind remembering. He was on his side facing her.

She had missed this – waking up with him next to her, the sun streaming in across his pillow. His hair was shorter now, but it still turned gold in the light. Glistening. She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand; it was wet with tears. That surprised her. He had seemed so in control the whole week he had been back, but maybe there was something behind the facade. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had lost her way.

His hand moved down her body, sending chills up her spine. He grabbed her roughly and with his other hand, pushed her hand away from his cheek. “Don’t,” he whispered, new tears appearing on his face.

Buffy was surprised by the strength of his grasp, the way he clutched at her almost desperately with the hand holding hers, while still pushing her away with the other.

“Hey there. It’s o.k.,” she said, lacing her fingers through his, trying to read his face, seeing only pain. “Riley, wake up. It’s a dream.”

He was struggling, fighting her. Then suddenly all resistance was gone and he melted against her, clinging to her hand, burying his face in her neck.

This was no good. No good at all. It brought back too many memories; too many things she had tried to put out of her mind – some because they were much too painful to deal with, and others because they were much too nice. She wasn’t ready to confront “nice” yet. Just making it through each day took so much effort; she couldn’t afford to actually dream.

“Please,” he murmured.

Or at least she thought that’s what he said – his mouth was against her neck and she couldn’t hear him clearly. And it was so very hard to concentrate with his warm breath tickling her neck and his lips grazing her skin. She was glad he had stayed in the shirt and pants all night because if he had been wearing boxers only she would have had them off in two seconds, even if he was still asleep.

“Just take me.”

O.k. It may have been a whisper but that one had been pretty clear. Well this was certainly a dilemma. For one thing, she had heard him cry out Sam’s name – that was what had first woken her up; for another, he was still asleep. With anyone else she might have doubted that, but Riley wouldn’t play games like this. And the tears were real, flowing more freely as he withdrew from her and seemed to give in to whatever demon he was fighting.

She looked at him closely and decided she preferred seeing him in pain because at least that meant he was alive, in body and spirit. This was different, complete surrender. Even in his sleep she could see there was no fight left. And he was so still; too still.

“Riley?” she asked, tentatively reaching her hand out to his cheek.

It was as though he sensed it, because he suddenly grabbed her wrist right before she touched him. His hand found her other wrist and he pulled her to him, his arms slipping around her as their bodies came together.

“Riley,” she said, a little more forcefully, but not quite enough to wake him up. She knew she should – she *so* should – but being in his arms felt so right. She leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes as he held her tightly.

Only for a minute, she told herself. Only until that happy, safe feeling went away.

Happy. There was a word she hadn’t used in a long time. Not since…

No – think present, not past. How his touch brought her to life in a way that was beyond physical. A sense of optimism. A well of strength. A lightness of spirit. Things she had been missing so long she had forgotten they were possible.

So different than Spike. Spike was a drug. A syringe full of adrenaline shot directly into a heart that wanted to stop beating. Jolting her body back to life when all systems screamed surrender. A drug she needed to find the strength to make it through each day. But along with the drug comes the shame and guilt with a healthy dose of desperation mixed in. Wanting so badly to feel something, anything. Letting her conscience sleep while he did the things he did. While she did things right back.

Not that her conscience was doing a very good job right now, either, because as her body came alive with the thoughts of what she and Spike had done together, her imagination began to run wild – focusing on the way Riley felt against her; intoxicated with the anticipation of rediscovering him.

It would probably be a good idea to not be lying here like this right now, she thought, pulling her head away from his chest.

“Ri-” she started to say as his head fell to her shoulder, mouth dangerously close to the scar on her neck. A scar that had always been an issue for them – at first because she avoided it, anything Angel-related leaving her raw. And then because Riley avoided it, once he discovered how it came to be there.

With Spike she had discovered that any touch in that vicinity was quite the turn on. And that was certainly the case right now as the light sensation of Riley’s breath sent shivers down her back. Oh, God, that feels good, she thought as Riley’s hand slid from her waist to the small of her back.

O.k., so why was this wrong again? Maybe another talk with Tara was in order. The last one hadn’t ended quite so well, but this one had much better potential.

Then again, why exactly did she feel a need to rationalize this? After all she was the one who said she needed time. Riley would jump into bed with her in a heartbeat. Case in point.

No. No, no, no. There was a reason he was being all noble and good and decent and so thoroughly-annoyingly-Riley. Because she had asked him to. Because she had wanted to figure out how to be on her own. Not relying on Angel, or Riley, or Spike. Or Giles or Willow or Xander for that matter. Well, not Giles any more, because he had left her, too. Like Angel had and Riley probably would again.

There’s a way to kill the mood. Which in this case was actually a good thing. Because there was no mood – Riley was asleep for God’s sake. If this was going to happen, he was going to be wide awake so he could fully appreciate every little thing she’d be doing to him.

Not that she was saying it was going to happen – most certainly not. But if it were…

All right, Agent Finn, time to wake up. She pulled her shoulder away, expecting his head to fall to the pillow, but instead he shifted, his knee slipping between her legs as his mouth came up to meet hers; one hand on her thigh now, and moving back up, the other cupping the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. A hard, rough, take no prisoners kiss that was...

Oh, yes.

Wait, she thought, as she sensed him hesitate and start to pull away. Please don’t go.

She didn’t want it to stop. She leaned towards him, deepening the kiss, pulling him closer.

Whoa. Easy girl. This is wrong. Major wrong with a capital “W.” Asleep, remember?

Well, maybe not any more – this was one hell of a kiss for someone of the sleep persuasion. But even if he wasn’t -- especially if he wasn’t – this wasn’t the way she wanted it to happen. Not after a night he spent watching her go through some horrendous withdrawal after being jabbed by a demon. Not when she was all achy and sweaty, visions of a bad slaying experience all too fresh in her mind.

Right. And when exactly would that be? When didn’t she come home with some type of blood or guts or all around ickiness, thanks to some creature or other? Or Doublemeat Palace. Because that was her life. Which right now pretty much sucked. Slayage or drudgery, pick one.

Not that there was much of a distinction these days. Not that she even had the choice – her choices were few and far between. So if she chose to have hot, sweaty sex with a man who she was in love with once and, if she were in a particularly honest mood she’d have to say that she might still be just a little bit in love with, then, “What the hell is the matter with that?”

She snapped her mouth shut as she suddenly realized she had said that aloud. Very adamantly.

“Oh, God,” she said as Riley's eyes opened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

A blush rose up her cheeks as she realized that her hands were quite well situated around his ass at this very moment. And she would be removing them, thank you very much, because they really belonged in a nice safe place like, well, maybe just resting lightly on his arm. Except it was hard to move the hand that was under him so she’d just have to leave it right where it was. No choice about that when you came down to it.

“Well, actually, I did. I really, really did. But there were a lot of things running through my mind and I was going to get to it really soon. So no sermons – o.k.? I really don’t want to hear them,” she said, working herself up to fuming.

Their faces were so close that their eyelashes were touching. And she was practically talking into his mouth, an odd sensation – not unpleasant, just odd. Not surprising either, considering they had still been kissing when she started talking. Well, shouting.

“Nice to know I can still piss you off first thing in the morning.” Riley pulled away, the full realization of what had happened just hitting him.

He had known he was kissing Buffy the moment their lips met, but at first it seemed part of the dream: a new, happy ending where his fingertips were grazing Buffy’s skin; the taste of her on the tip of his tongue. Not the other desperate ending that Sam had had to pull him out of on so many mornings, the ending where he faded into that dark oblivion of the dream. The dream he thought he had finally gotten rid of.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed as he extricated his hands from the tangle of her top and pulled it back down to her waist. He wanted her so much it hurt, but not like this. Not after the dream.

She nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him as well. “Is that part of your normal morning routine? With push-ups and power bars and all?”

“Gotta start the day right.” He tried to pass it off as a joke but didn't quite manage. Though he knew that there was more than just the kiss, he didn’t know exactly what it was.

He had actually asked Sam to tell him one day and then stopped her almost as soon as she started. It was too hard. From then on it was off limits, the only thing ever acknowledged was the kiss, and only because it was the way they had woken up so many mornings.

And the tears – tears he had tried to convince himself were Sam’s. Couldn’t use that excuse any more.

So now there were two people who had seen him like that. Granted, the two people who knew him better than anyone else in the world, but still. Two more than he would prefer.

No, make that three, counting Graham. But Graham hadn’t experienced the kissing part, thank God. Almost got a broken wrist when he made the mistake of trying to wake Riley up the first night it happened, but no kissing. After that, Graham had taken to keeping a canteen next to his pillow and would fling it across the tent at Riley as soon as the thrashing and mumbling started.

New subject.

“How about you? Any visions? You’re not going to beat me or anything, right?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, smiling. “A little bit of a headache, but otherwise situation normal.” Her voice faltered on that last word.

Even through her smile, he could see her eyes shut down when they were coming up on guarded territory. “Right. You don’t want to talk about it.” At least it didn’t sting the way it used to.

“No,” she answered. “And you? Does that happen a lot?”

He sat up, his feet on the floor, his back to her. “It used to.”

Everything about it pissed him off – from the fact that he couldn’t control it to the fact that it was so damn literal. Even his dreams couldn’t be dark and mysterious.

Well, dark maybe. But at least if it had been symbolic with hawks turning into clocks or cornfields under murky water he could have spent some of that time trying to figure it out; but instead, from the first time it happened he had had to live through it all, over and over again.

The night after they touched down in Belize was the first time; it recurred every night after that for four months. The same dream without fail, although the Sam part was new. Just one more thing to ask forgiveness for.

She reached her hand out to his back, pulling away when his muscles tensed at her touch. “Does it still?”

“First time in a while,” he said with a bitter laugh. One night with Buffy and it all came back. And it wasn’t even a night with Buffy. He apparently had some more working through to do.

“What made it stop?” Buffy asked. She clearly had figured out what made it start again.

Some nights Sam would just hold him; others, she would take the kiss and make it her own, often quickly progressing into something hungry and raw. More brutal than passionate – nothing nice about it. Not what he thought sex should be but exactly what he had needed. What she had needed too – the Peace Corps wasn’t exactly the enriching experience Sam had been hoping for.

He bent down to find his shoes and busied himself putting them on and tying them. “Sam,” he said simply.

The first night he and Sam slept together was the first night he had been free of it. After that, it hadn’t taken much to convince Graham to find another tent – Graham hated keeping secrets from the rest of the squad and wasn’t totally on board with the office romance as he called it, but he was as tired of the dream as Riley was. It was his first full night’s sleep in four months, too.

“Oh,” she said, as he could feel the blush climb up the back of his neck.

“Oh,” she said again, as she obviously realized what the blush meant. She jumped out of the bed.

He couldn't really blame her. She knew that Sam had been on his mind, but he was sure she'd been joking when she asked if it was part of his normal routine. That was probably a little more insight into their relationship than she wanted. Of course, he felt the same way when he walked in on her and Spike.

“Riley…”

“Buffy…”

They both spoke at the same time, turning to face each other.

Riley swallowed hard. Admitting weakness had never been a strong point of his. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I would have warned you if last night had been…”

Had been what, exactly? About sex? About love? What did you expect when you jumped into that bed with her?

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly get the bad end of the deal,” Buffy said, smiling at the way he looked up at her; the look he always gave her when she said something that surprised him. “I mean, o.k., a little weird with the whole insider’s view to the Finns’ bedroom. Or tent. Or wherever you guys actually slept in the jungle. But” - she leaned back against her dresser - “I can see why you might want to wake up that way.”

How did she always manage to say something that completely aroused him? Even in this highly uncomfortable situation. He had already taken more cold showers in the last week than he did throughout all of high school.

Buffy ducked her head, trying to hide her smile. She knew he hated when she called him cute. And he was well aware she thought the cuteness quotient shot way up when he was speechless. It didn’t happen often, but when it did…

“Are you hungry?” she asked. She deliberately didn't look at him as she grabbed pajama bottoms out of the drawer.

“Willow makes a mean omelet, and I can already smell the bacon.” Her words came out quickly. “That’s a sign that she’s feeling extra guilty about the antidote thing, which may also mean cinnamon rolls. Of course, I feel double extra guilty about trying to kill my friends, so it may mean pancakes, too. If you don’t need to be at Commando Central right away, that is,” she said, her legs now safely covered by sushi.

Good, he thought. Babble was good. Getting dressed was good. The bare skin on Buffy’s legs was not. Or rather, it was. Much too good. “I should really go home, get some clean clothes.” Get the hell out of here before I make an even bigger ass out of myself than I already have.

“Come back,” she said, not wavering. She didn’t have to add the “it’s an order” part. It was clear from her tone.

Riley wasn’t sure why his answer was so long in coming. Sam had been right; this was what he wanted. She may also have been right about Buffy still feeling something, although Riley wasn’t totally confident about that, despite knowing exactly what she had just been thinking. It wasn’t the sex part of their relationship that had been lacking; it was the love part that had always come with the big question mark.

He had said that he could handle whatever decision Buffy made, but now he wasn’t so sure. If ever there was a time to cut his losses, this was it – before breakfasts, and Scoobies, and dinners, and card games; before being a part of it all again. Because he could still walk away, a little bruised maybe, but not broken. Heart still intact.

Who was he kidding? His heart would never be intact again. If she was going to throw him a bone, he was going to take it.

“O.k.,” he said, hoping his voice hadn’t betrayed him too much. Breakfast probably didn’t have life-altering meaning for her.

She smiled, relieved, and walked towards the door. This was harder for him than it had been for her. When her life came crashing down around her, she still had so much. Giles her foundation, Dawn and Willow and Xander and Tara the beams keeping her sheltered, and Spike the secret attic where she could hide away and shut out the rest of the world.

When Riley’s life had crumbled, the house had come down with it; nothing was left standing. The fact that he had gotten out alive and been able to rebuild the walls around him was a miracle, and she would not tempt fate by throwing that gift away. She had lost too much and even though it terrified her, she wasn’t ready to give up on this again.

Funny that she faced death every day without it seeming to affect her, but this – taking a chance at life – it seemed like a bigger risk than anything else she had ever done.

“Scary,” she whispered, stopping suddenly as she was hit with a sudden flash of understanding.

“What?” he asked, concentrating more on not tripping over her than on what she had actually said.

“Horseback riding scary.” She stared at Riley with a directness that he found unsettling.

“We’re going horseback riding?” Riley asked, completely bewildered. “I thought you said you’d never do that again.”

She had called it the “Buffy Summers Summer Adventure,” their long weekend up in vineyard country. He had persuaded her to go riding on a whim as they drove past the stable. The horse she rode was nicknamed, “Granny”; it was the oldest, slowest horse Riley had ever seen and yet it terrified her.

Shaking like a leaf, unable to speak, knuckles stark white against the leather reins – as close to panic as he had ever seen her. She wouldn’t cut the ride short, though, glaring pointedly at the ten-year-old girl in front of her when he suggested it; but it had taken a few glasses of wine and a good forty minutes before she stopped shaking. A week later, he saw her jump into a group of six vampires without a second thought.

A study in contradictions. The Slayer part he could handle – not that she ever got that, but he knew that at least was true. He had never had any trouble understanding the steely warrior inside. It was the Buffy part, however, that got him into trouble. The beautiful, soft, amazing girl part that was still a mystery to him. And what being scared out of her mind had to do with anything that had happened this morning was completely beyond him.

“No. I didn’t think I could, but I might be ready now,” she said with a slow smile before turning away from him.

Riley stood there watching her walk away from him, not entirely sure of what had just happened but feeling that it was something important. He walked slowly down the hall, down the stairs, and towards the kitchen.

Scary. The word triggered something in his subconscious, but he couldn’t quite reach it. It would come to him, he thought, as he followed her into the kitchen, just a few paces behind. Behind enough to have missed Willow’s questioning look and Buffy’s answering smile, but in time to see the two women come together in a clinging hug, a flood of apologies coming from each of them.

Willow turned to Riley with a huge smile, letting go of Buffy and throwing her arms around him. She pulled away and wiped some tears from her eyes. Turning back to Buffy she said, “Thought we lost you there for a little while.”

“Yeah, me too,” answered Buffy, her eyes clouded with tears as well. “Umm, bacon?” she asked, as the unmistakable burning smell overtook the room.

“Bacon. Right,” Willow said briskly. She turned to the stove and pulled the skillet off the burner. “Sit, sit.” She dished out bacon and toast and omelets to Buffy and Riley who were now sitting at the counter. “Don’t fill up. Cinnamon rolls are in the oven.”

“See?” Buffy said to Riley with a smile as she bit off a piece of bacon. “Will – I was gonna make pancakes. You beat me to the punch.”

“I got breakfast. Buffy-guilt can take care of dinner.” Willow joined them at the counter with her own full plate.

They all looked up as Dawn came in the room. “Are you o.k.?” she asked Buffy, her arms folded in front of her chest and her body tense.

Buffy stood and approached Dawn slowly, relieved when Dawn returned her hug. Just barely, but at least she did it. “Dawn, I’m…”

Dawn cut her off. “Who’s driving me to school? We need to leave in ten minutes.” She grabbed a piece of bacon and left the kitchen without an answer.

Willow said to Buffy, “Seven.”

“Seven point five,” Buffy replied.

“And you’re scoring…?” Riley asked.

“The Buff Rebuff,” Willow said. “Usually she hits at least 8.5 first thing in the morning but she was pretty worried last night.”

“We all were,” came Xander’s voice from the doorway. He took a step toward Buffy, cringing as she gave him a hug. “Careful please. Minor bruising.”

Buffy pulled away. “Xander, I’m so, so sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Really. It’s nice to focus on physical pain for a little while. So I should actually be thanking you.” He eased himself down onto a stool, wincing as he brought his feet up to the bottom rung.

“Did you stay here last night?” Dawn asked Xander as she came back into the kitchen, backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Sure did.” After leaving the emergency room at two a.m., Xander and Tara had come back to Buffy’s. He assumed Tara had gone home soon afterwards – he had been drowsy from the painkillers and after checking in on Buffy, he had gone straight to sleep. “Feeling nostalgic, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve slept on a couch.”

“And you? You didn’t go home either?” Dawn asked Riley.

Riley met her look head on as he answered, “No, ma’am. But I really do need to get there soon. If you’re ready to go, I can take you to school.”

Dawn glanced at Buffy before turning back to Riley and saying, “O.k. Can we stop for doughnuts on the way?” She abruptly whirled on her heel and walked out the door, calling out behind her, “Don’t get poked by any more demons!”

“So, I guess we’re leaving now,” Riley said, his amused smile fading as he saw the unhappy look on Buffy’s face. He stood. “Thanks, Willow. That was great. Guess I’ll see you guys later.” He reached down for his bag and headed toward the door.

“Wait – Riley,” Buffy said, coming after him and grabbing his hand as he turned back to her. “Will we, um…” She glanced at Willow and Xander, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Will you be around later? Have dinner with us?”

He looked into her eyes and saw all the questions and doubts and insecurities that were reflected there. But hope, too. And maybe a little bit of a smile.

“Sure. That would be nice. I’ll come by after work,” he said.

She squeezed his hand as he pulled away from her. “Careful out there.”

“With Dawn? Or with the day job?” he asked, smiling.

“Both.” She had forgotten how hard it was to let him leave, back when he was still in the Initiative and facing the same things she did. It was easier after Adam fell because he wasn’t going out there every day and putting his life on the line. And besides, after that she had always made sure that he didn’t go out there alone. Whenever she could, at least. But he wasn’t hers to protect anymore. She wasn’t even sure what he needed protecting from.

She pulled his hand back to her and pulled him into a full hug, not caring that Willow and Xander were taking this all in, not caring that there was no dream to use as an excuse. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and her head on his chest, she held him there, savoring his warmth and strong arms around her back. She didn’t let go until there was a sound of the car horn honking from outside.

She reached her hand up to his cheek and said, “Please be careful.”

“You already said that.”

“Riley…”

“O.k. Yeah, I will,” he said, a little puzzled by her intensity. “You too, o.k.? I’ll see you tonight?”

She nodded and let go, waving as he closed the door behind him. She turned to Willow and Xander who were looking at her strangely. “I’m just…” Just what? Afraid to be happy again? Afraid to lose him again? “I don’t know. Yesterday was weird.” Afraid he won’t want me when he sees who I really am? “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

=====================================================================

That was different, he thought as he walked to the car. This new Buffy was hard to get used to. Much more vulnerable than she was when he left. Much more emotional.

Much more dangerous.

He heard the car door slam and Dawn came running past him and back to the house, muttering something about a forgotten term paper.

Riley watched Dawn go and caught a glimpse of Buffy as the door slammed shut. It was only a week and she was already getting to him. Making him think that she needed him. Pulling him into her circle and accepting him into her life again. He felt like he was on a ride that had spun out of control. Wanting so badly to believe what seemed clear on the surface; not trusting enough to feel optimistic, however.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he came back to Sunnydale, but he certainly hadn’t expected anything to happen quite so fast. Because fast was no good. Hell, a week ago she was sleeping with Spike. She might still be for all Riley really knew. And a week ago he went to bed with his wife, perfectly – well, almost perfectly – content with the life that he had managed to rebuild. A life he had no right to be living after the mess he had made of it.

And yet here they were, one week later. Falling into the patterns of a long ago life, like a couple that had gotten used to one another’s companionship and counted on it to get through the day. Ignoring past offenses because it was easier to just smile it all away. Forgoing hunger and passion in the light of mid-day and instead just being grateful for a warm body to lie next to when the night was too dark.

Was that love or just familiarity? The path of least resistance. Where they had been when he left for Belize. Not exactly where he wanted to go back.

“Tough night, huh?”

Riley jumped at Xander’s voice. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Xander had come outside. “Had worse.”

“I bet,” Xander said. “So – where’s the happy?”

“The happy?” Riley asked, leaning back against the car.

“Yeah. What is it with you two?” Xander asked, an edge to his voice.

“What do you mean?” Riley said guardedly, not used to this Xander either. A lot really had changed in a year.

“I mean that I haven’t seen that look in her eye in a long time, but she’s drowning her sorrows in cinnamon rolls, too proud to just come out and say it. And you – you come back here – you leave your wife for her – and yet you’re too blind to see that she’s in love with you. Still. Even after that ridiculous stunt you pulled.”

“She’s not-”

“The fact that she’s even willing to talk to you should be enough. But letting you see her like she was last night?”

“She didn’t have much of a choice," Riley mumbled, a little stunned at the vehemence in Xander’s tone. "Willow-”

Xander continued as if Riley hadn’t spoken. “She doesn’t let people take care of her like that. Not me, not Giles, not even Willow. Her Mom, Angel, and you. If you can’t see that – if you can’t see how much you mean to her – then you don’t deserve her.”

“Gee, Xander – don’t worry about holding back. Tell me how you really feel.” Riley had only seen Xander like that once before, a long time ago, only this time there was more anger behind the words. And this time Riley wasn’t about to run off to Willy’s.

For a second it looked like Xander was going to come at Riley swinging, but then he sank back against the car, deflated. “I just screwed up the best thing I’ve ever had,” he said, shaking his head. “If Anya even let me come close after what I did to her? I’d feel like the luckiest man alive.” He looked at Riley. “You got your second chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Definitely a different Xander, Riley thought.

Riley looked up at the house. Buffy was standing at the window, watching them. She smiled tentatively when she saw him look up.

When had he started doubting her? What had happened to the man who wasn’t going to walk away? When had he given up?

He smiled back at her, a shock going through him as her smile broadened. Well this was a new way of looking at things. Maybe things weren’t happening too fast. Maybe it had been there this whole time, simmering under the surface until they found each other again. Could that really be? Was that possible?

“You know,” Xander said, “you’d think that in your line of work, you’d just grab the brass ring when it’s handed to you. When any day could be your last…”

“I got it, Xander.”

“Too much?”

“A bit.”

“Yeah. Should’ve known when the clichés started coming. I always do that.”

They stood there in silence for a minute, each caught up in his own thoughts, before Riley said, “So was that what you came out here to tell me?”

“No, I was kind of stalling and just got on a roll.”

Apparently. “Anya?” Riley asked.

“Yeah.”

“You heard from her?”

“No.” Xander looked down at the ground. “Have you found her?”

Riley looked at him, not sure how Xander would react. He hadn’t decided whether to tell Xander that he was looking for her, but he wasn’t going to lie about it. “Nope. It’s harder than I remembered to do a covert search like that. Hell, it’s harder to do a search,” he said, thinking about the marine he had spent yesterday morning dealing with. “And we can only find her if she takes the hotel route, or uses credit cards, or something like that. There’s a whole network we can’t touch. At least not easily.”

“Well maybe Spike’ll be good for something after all,” said Xander.

There was a distinctly teenage snort and both men looked up to see Dawn standing there, term paper in hand. “Buffy seems to think so,” she said, walking around to the passenger side of the car and climbing in.

Xander started to ask what she meant by that but Dawn cut him off. “Can we go?” she asked Riley. “We’re going to be late. We need to pick up Janice.”

“Wouldn’t want to make her late,” Riley said as he got in the car and turned on the ignition. He looked at Xander. “Thanks,” he said before closing the door.

“Don’t mention it,” Xander said as Riley drove away, turning back to the house and the beating that was most likely waiting for him, hopefully without the frying pan this time. He had seen Buffy standing there too.

=====================================================================

“Where to?” Riley asked Dawn.

“If you want to stop at your place first, that’s cool. I’m in no hurry.” She sat back in her seat.

Glancing over at her, Riley said, “I thought we were going to be late.”

Dawn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Janice doesn’t care. And I’ve missed so much school, what’s another half hour?”

“Sorry, kid.” He shook his head and met her glare with one of his own. “Where to?”

“Fine,” she said, folding her arms again.

His eyes on the road, he said, “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

She unfolded her arms. “What – you practically dust Spike, so now you come after me?”

Riley laughed. “O.k. Starting over. Good morning, Dawn.”

“Good morning, Riley." There was a smile in her voice. "Turn left.”

“You mean at the street we just passed?” Braking and backing up, he muttered, “You really are Buffy’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Well, no. Duh,” she said, looking out the window and rolling her eyes. “Left.”

He yanked on the wheel. “No, this isn’t the right street? Or no, you’re not her sister?” To be honest, he wasn't really paying attention. Was concentrating instead on possible upcoming streets that he might have to suddenly turn down.

“She didn’t tell you?" Dawn asked. "Left – no, at the next one.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” he asked, frowning as he turned into someone’s driveway so he could turn around. “And I’m never driving you to school again by the way.” Seriously.

“You know, energy." She sounded exasperated. "The Key. Glory. End of the world.”

What was she talking about? “No. I don’t know." Wait – "Glory? From last year?”

“Yeah. Why Buffy died,” she said, pointing at a street as they drove past it. “That was the left. I already told you about that one so it’s not my fault. This is why Xander lets me drive. I have my permit, you know.”

So that's what she was getting at. He pulled over to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes as he glared at her. “You could have just asked,” he muttered as she squealed and clapped her hands.

Once they had switched seats and were back on the road again, Riley asked, “Why she died?”

Buffy's recap had basically been: I jumped off a tower. I died. They brought me back. He had to admit, he was curious as to the details.

Of course, given that was the case, it might help to pay a little more attention to what Dawn was saying, stuff that wasn't making much sense - created by monks? Implanted memories?

“...To save the world," Dawn finished. Unlike most people might, she sounded like she couldn't possibly be more bored. "You know, the way she does." Dawn turned to him. "Don’t you think that’s annoying?”

"Eyes, Dawn," Riley snapped. "On the road."

Once Dawn was paying attention to the driving again, he answered, “And, um, no. I’m more than happy to have the world saved." He grabbed onto the door handle as Dawn suddenly discovered the gas pedal. "Could you slow down maybe just a little?” Not like she was driving a car that would cost him, oh, high six figures to replace or anything.

Nice, Ri. Let her practice driving in the kick-ass high-tech SUV. Brilliant.

“No," Dawn answered, still on her original question. "I mean the way she keeps everything inside. Like that she didn’t tell you I wasn’t her sister.”

“Dawn, I’ve barely seen her. And other things have been...” His voice trailed off as he realized what she was saying; suddenly processed what she had just said. "You mean...?" Not Buffy's sister. Created by monks. Memories implanted to make everyone believe she'd always been there.

No fucking way.

"You're not-?" He snapped his mouth shut before saying, 'real.' Of course she was real. She was sitting here. Still...

It was clear from the way she rolled her eyes that Dawn was finished with that part of the conversation. She had bigger fish to fry; a point to make. Any major rearranging of concepts of reality would have to be done on his own time.

“That one she knew before you left." Turning to him pointedly, she said, "That was a pretty big thing, don’t you think?”

He sat back against the seat. “Yeah, pretty big,” he said, only vaguely noticing the stop sign they had just run.

So that was it. That was the thing she'd been holding in, the thing she'd never told him. Because she thought he'd slip up and mention it to Graham? Expose Dawn to the white coats at the Pentagon?

Oddly enough, that's what he'd like to think. It was much better than thinking she'd just never cared. And it had been well established that letting his mind wander down that path was not the best of plans.

Dawn was still rambling, “...The thing about Spike.”

“Spike?” Riley asked weakly as Dawn swerved. His stomach was starting to feel like he had just had about ten too many beers. A few months back he'd been in an airplane that had to make a crash landing; hand to God it had been smoother than this. “Are you sure Xander lets you drive?”

“Yeah, but only to Janice’s." Dawn turned up another street. "We’re almost there.”

Thank God.

As though it were the most unimportant thing in the world, she said, “You know she’s sleeping with him, right? That’s why you almost killed him?”

'Him'? She knew Buffy was sleeping with Spike? Riley just barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping open. He had a strong suspicion that Buffy had no idea Dawn knew.

“Sleeping with Xander?” he asked, trying to put off this conversation as long as humanly possible.

“No,” Dawn said, glaring at him. “Spike.”

As nonchalantly as possible, Riley went the nondenial denial route. “And you know this because…?”

“She practically said so." Dawn's voice was suddenly very quiet. "Yesterday – when she was all crazy." With renewed energy, she asked, "Did Spike tell you last night? Is that how you know?”

It was clearly futile to pretend that he had no clue. Didn't mean he had to go into detail, though. “No, actually. Is there a reason we’re talking about this?”

Dawn didn't answer as she pulled the car to a stop in front of a house on a street that looked incredibly familiar. Riley looked back over his shoulder at the rest of the street they were on. “Janice lives right around the corner.”

No wonder Xander let her drive there. Unbelievable. Riley tried not to be too irritated.

She shrugged. “You didn’t ask what the fastest way was. And I gave you a choice – you could have gone home first. Plus you called me ‘kid.’”

True, unfortunately.

“Dawn...” There was clearly something she was gearing up to say; he didn't want to stop her from saying it. Still, he wished she would get to it. “Point?”

She put her hands on the steering wheel and looked out the window. Softly, she said, “Spike got hurt because of me. He could have told Glory who I was, but he didn’t. And he was there when Buffy died. He was there for us all summer.”

And again with the Spike for sainthood campaign.

Sitting back against the car door, Riley watched her. He tried to keep his voice even as he said, “Dawn – it’s been a really long night and I’m really tired. And you may not care about being late, but I do. So can you just come out and say whatever it is that you’re trying to say?”

“I just…” She turned to look at him, obviously forcing herself to meet his gaze. “She hasn’t been happy in a really long time, not since you left. I didn’t want you to leave again. I thought if you knew why…”

Riley could feel his eyes narrow practically on their own accord. He'd like to believe what she was saying - what Xander had said earlier. That Buffy might actually be happy because he was back; that she trusted him, despite what he'd done.

He found himself starting to think it was possible. If it were... God. That changed things. That really changed things.

“Are you o.k.?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

They both turned at the knock on the window. Janice.

Dawn waved and turned back to Riley as she opened her door. “Can we sit in the back and play with the buttons?”

“No.” He got out of the car and walked around the front slowly. What a day. And it was only 8:15.

He drove to the school in a fog brought about by barely any sleep, too much thinking, and a couple of possibly life changing revelations.

Barely hearing Janice's 'bye,' he managed to lift his hand in a wave. He turned as Dawn got out of the car.

“Are you really o.k.?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, still dazed. He leaned over and caught the door just before she slammed it shut. Catching her eye, he added, "Thanks.”

She smiled, acknowledging his thanks with a nod. “Can I drive the whole way next time?”

Laughing, he answered, “Hell, no.”

He watched as she walked into the school building, laughing with Janice. Energy? No kidding.

It was kind of funny that finding out Dawn had basically been created out of thin air didn't even hold a candle to what she said about Buffy. It had been a long time since he thought himself capable of making Buffy happy. A very long time. And to think that he might possibly stand a chance this time around?

Shit. He could feel his heart begin to race, could feel it jump right up into his throat.

Shouldn’t this get easier? Less scary?

Scary.

The word hit him like a ton of bricks. That’s what Buffy had meant. What he had said to her that day in the caves.

Well, hot damn.

He let out a laugh as he drove away, music blaring, wind blowing and heart soaring.

Hot damn.

THE END

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Posted May 11, 2002.