Title: Butterfly Ops
Author: Alexandra Huxley
Rating: R
Pairing: B/R
Spoilers: General spoilers through Bring On the Night
(BtVS, 7th season).
Disclaimer: Story and original characters are mine,
everything else belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
and a lot of other people who aren't me.
Distribution: The answer's probably yes, but please
ask.
Author's notes: This is a sequel to Celestial Light.
(CL is available at
http://home.mindspring.com/~jenkel/fanfic/index.html
If you didn't read that, then you'll probably wonder
how we got to this place.) Thanks to Cynthia, Moe and
Jess for beta-ing. And it is impossible to adequately
convey my thanks to Diana for her C&C. But (sorry D,
I couldn't help it) I will try.
Summary: Fifteen years after "As You Were," Buffy and
Riley are working together again.
Feedback: Is greatly appreciated! Send to
alexandrahuxley@...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Butterfly Ops
By Alexandra Huxley


Chapter Forty-Five

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



Buffy looked out the window of the helicopter, down to
the beach below. She’d expected it to look a little
less untouched, a little more affected by the storm
even though it had been several days before.

The sun was just disappearing below the trees off to
Buffy’s right – the thick forest they’d emerged from
that last day. She looked at the cliffs overlooking
the water. The dancing girl – the one who Riley and
Brooks had seemed so enamored of – was still.

Satiated? Oh, how Buffy hoped not.

She felt Willow’s elbow nudge her arm. Turning her
head in the direction Willow pointed, it took Buffy a
minute to pick apart the shadows the trees cast on the
lake; when she finally did, she realized that there
were men in among them – men sitting in canoes. No,
make that Joe and five of his closest friends sitting
in canoes.

Graham noticed them at the same time, and you didn’t
need to be wearing a com-cam to hear the string of
profanities coming out of his mouth. He jumped out of
the helicopter as it landed on the beach, clearing the
blades in seconds and yelling, “No fucking way!”

Though there was a certain appeal to jumping out of
large flying things, Buffy waited the minute it took
for them to be fully on the ground before getting out
herself. She watched Joe pull his canoe up to the
shore and climb out. He just stood there placidly,
the familiar amused look on his face.

By the time Buffy got to them, they were in a heated
discussion. Well, Graham was in a heated discussion.
Joe was just standing there, smiling serenely,
completely unperturbed.

“Canoes, Joe.” Graham was seething. “I said canoes.”

“I brought canoes,” Joe responded calmly. “They just
happen to have men in them.”

Graham didn’t even look in the direction of the group.
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “They’re not
coming.” Glaring pointedly at Joe, he added, “You’re
not coming.”

The smiled disappeared from Joe’s face. “What makes
you think that’s your choice?”

Buffy had to admit – she was kind of on Joe’s side.
However, this did not seem the time to debate who had
the authority here. Nor was it time to babysit. She
stepped forward and, with a nod towards the team
coming up behind her, she said, “We don’t have the
manpower to watch your backs. If you come, you’re on
your own.”

One glance at Graham showed he was about as happy with
her after she made that comment as he was with Joe.
He closed his eyes for a second – obviously wondering
what exactly he’d done to deserve this turn of events
– and then looked back at Joe, saying, “This morning
the Chief told Buffy there was no one for her to
fight. Now you tell me you have a squad ready to take
down our resident princess?”

Joe angrily countered, “Not take her down. Help free
her. She’s as much a pris-”

“Right,” Graham answered skeptically. “The
Maymaygwayshi. Whatever.”

Graham seemed to have missed a key shift in opinion.
Buffy asked, “You got the Chief and Ro to back the
Princess?” When they’d been at Joe’s village it had
been pretty obvious he was the only one willing to
speak for the Princess. She didn’t think there’d be
even this many men if the Chief and Ro hadn’t given
their blessing.

Joe’s nod confirmed it. “This isn’t her doing.”

Buffy wasn’t at the point yet of completely absolving
the princess of all blame, despite her earlier
conversation with Harry. And though she might be
coming around, there were still things that didn’t sit
right. “There are fourteen dead men, Joe. Men who
have a lot in common with-”

“So you finally visited the museum,” Joe answered
before Buffy could finish.

For some reason, she felt none of the anger she’d felt
towards Harry. It was more disappointment – mostly at
herself. “You knew Riley looked like Didier?” Of
course Joe would know. How could he not?

Which he only confirmed by letting out a laugh and
saying, “All of Atikokan knew. It was pretty
obvious.”

Joe’s statement clearly did nothing to ease Graham’s
unhappiness. He folded his arms across his chest.
“This would have been helpful to know before now.”

“Yes.” Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out his
pack of cigarettes. “It would have been. I’m sorry.”
He looked up at Buffy. “I should have trusted you.”

Buffy had to look away. Yes, he should have. With
whatever it was. As Brady was in the process of
finding out, asking, “Trusted her with what?”

Joe looked like he couldn’t believe he was answering
the question. He did, though, after taking out a
cigarette and lighting it up. “With what the guides
said.”

“The guides?” Buffy looked over at the men from Joe’s
village, sitting patiently in their canoes. She’d met
two of them that first night in Atikokan – they’d been
the guides for Ana and Sprague’s teams. “Richard and
Dale?”

“No.” Willow answered instead of Joe, locking her
eyes on him as she spoke. “You mean spirit guides,
don’t you? What did they say?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Joe responded,
“That the Trader had to go, and that the Princess had
to follow. Only then could she be set free.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Brady said with
exasperation. “If the Princess can follow the trader,
then what does she need to be set free from? You’re
sure you got the message right?”

“Yes.” A look of annoyance crossed Joe’s face. “Same
message, every single night. No more, no less. Trust
me – I got it right.”

Every night. “That’s where you kept disappearing to,”
Buffy murmured. Checking in with his guides, trying
to figure out what they meant.

Stupid cryptic spirits. Wasting valuable time. Why
couldn’t they ever just come out and say what they
mean? And Joe – if he had just told her, she would
have helped him; after twenty years, she’d gotten good
at deciphering. “Two different princesses.” Darn
spirits never could get the pronoun thing down. “You
saw me fight the bear and realized I was the one you
were supposed to follow. In order to set the other
one free.”

Joe nodded. Unsurprisingly.

Buffy realized that her fists had clenched themselves,
something that wasn’t exactly a good thing since there
was nothing here to hit. Although, clenched fists
were better than useless tears, which were also
threatening at the moment.

Deep breaths, Buffy. Deep, cleansing breaths.

Riley’s dreams about Sam had probably just added to
Joe’s confusion – he had asked Riley if Sam was a
‘fighter,’ too. The ‘would you die for her’ and ‘true
love – not once but twice’ – that was just Joe working
things out. He hadn’t known anything for sure, hadn’t
even know which side Buffy was on, going so far as to
ask her why she’d brought Riley here – here to
Quetico, where Joe knew he wouldn’t meet a good end.

Joe had probably doubted her up until the storm
itself, the storm she almost didn’t make it through.
Maybe it had even taken until this morning, when it
became clear that she didn’t believe Riley was dead,
that her intention was to get him – to ‘follow the
Trader.’ “What convinced the Chief?”

Oops. She probably shouldn’t have snapped that.
Well, Joe should consider himself lucky. She liked
him a lot better than she liked Harry. And, of
course, there was that whole Joe being innocent thing.

Being Joe, however, the man didn’t even blink at her
sharp tone. Instead, he smiled. “Ro. The fight on
the bluff. He said if this were the Princess’ doing,
she wouldn’t have sent foot soldiers; she would have
fought you herself.”

Sprague moved a few feet forward, putting himself in
the conversation. “Say you’re right – there are still
all these men who she has to answer for.”

Adamantly, Joe shook his head. “She’s been imprisoned
for hundreds of years – why would she start taking men
now? And why men who-?”

Graham held his hand up as he looked from Joe to
Brady. “I’m not interested in debating this right
now. It’s irrelevant. We fight who we fight when we
get there.” He turned back to Joe. “Why did the
guides pick you to talk to and not Ro?”

Joe took something else out of his pocket – something
he seemed to use as a portable ashtray, grinding his
cigarette into it and closing it up so as not to leave
any stray ashes lying around. “You don’t have to be a
shaman to be chosen for the spirit conduit.” A slow
smile came over his face. “Or a Slayer.”

“You...?” Buffy didn’t care so much that he knew who
she was, just that it hadn’t been enough for him to
trust her. “And you didn’t tell me about what the
guides said?”

Joe’s smile was replaced by regret. “I didn’t realize
who you were until I got home, after everything
happened. I didn’t even realize someone like you
existed.” He attempted to shrug casually; not
entirely successfully, though – he looked quite
unsettled. He recovered, though, the laughter
sneaking back into his voice. “I didn’t used to hear
voices. I’m kind of new at this.”

Been there. Buffy sometimes wished she could start
her own program: Hi, my name’s Buffy. I’m the Slayer.
I haven’t had a normal life since I was fifteen. I’d
like to introduce our newest member, Joe. He appears
to have the thankless job of speaking up for a
princess everyone else thinks is evil.

Before they got too caught up in a meeting of Destiny
Anonymous, however, Graham brought the conversation
back to reality, saying, “To get back to my original
concern, none of this makes me think that it’s a good
idea for you and your friends to join us on our trip
to Ever After.”

Joe spoke tersely, his lips set in a line. He was
obviously annoyed that he had to justify himself.
“We’ve been training.”

Graham pointedly looked at his watch. “For what –
eight whole hours?”

The smile eased back on to Joe’s face. “You’d be
surprised what Ro can get done in eight hours.”

Buffy had a feeling that one of the things Ro could
‘get done’ was to stretch those eight hours into a
hell of a lot longer – Ro was that kind of guy. That
could change things. These guys might actually be
useful.

Her thoughts were apparently written all over her
face. She turned to see Graham looking at her as if
she had three heads.

His voice was, to put it nicely, clipped. “Are you
kidding?” Graham pointed to the men on the water.
“Even if they can fight. They’re not prepared for-”
He stopped abruptly, obviously realizing that he had
no idea how to end that sentence. It seemed to take
the air out of his sails. His hand dropped to his
side as he somewhat lamely offered, “We don’t have
enough equipment.”

Joe answered, “We can-”

“I don’t want your blood on my hands, t-” Graham
snapped his mouth shut, looking surprised that those
were the words he had just spoken. He shook his head
as his eyes went to the ground.

Buffy recognized the all too familiar daze – one that
she’d managed to keep at bay for most of today. It
was still waiting in the wings, though, and it took
some effort to keep it from striking – that horrible,
evil voice creeping into her head: What if I never see
him again – never touch him again, never feel his arms
around me. And that one was preferable to the
shrieking, ‘this is all your fault’ voice.

Actually, sometimes the voices weren’t so bad. At
least they kept her from considering the nightmare of
walking back into Riley’s house – of facing his kids
again – without him with her.

So just don’t go there, Graham, because even the
whisper of guilt – even one shred of doubt – might be
enough to send her careening off the tightrope,
crashing down to the ground below.

Now, presumably, Graham’s voice wasn’t saying anything
about never feeling Riley’s arms around him; however,
she was sure the guilt one was there and that it was
just as brutal. The only thing to do was to snap out
of it. She looked at Graham. “We need to go.”

Of course, all that guilt and remorse didn’t do
anything to dampen the exasperated,
pissed-off-commando look from appearing when Graham
practically sputtered, “We need to go?”

Ooo, yes. He was really mad, reduced to merely
repeating her words in a ‘who made you in charge’ kind
of way.

Hmph. She wasn’t sure why they always seemed so
surprised.

He gestured for her to go first – more in a resolved
let’s-just-get-on-with-this way than a nice,
gentlemanly ‘ladies first’ one. “Fine. After you.”

Which was perfectly acceptable to Buffy. Whatever
kept them moving.

She took hold of Joe’s canoe, ready to push it back
into the water. “You and me, Joe.”

Joe smiled and waved for the five other canoes to come
up on shore and collect Willow, Graham and the others.


When Graham muttered something about scrounging up
more oxygen tanks, Joe shook his head. “Ro covered
all the bases. We’ll be fine.”

After shrugging her shoulders in what she hoped was a
somewhat sympathetic way, Buffy was happy to see
Graham finally climb into one of the canoes.

Paddling out into open water ended up being harder –
much harder – than Buffy had expected. She hadn’t
realized how much Riley had had to compensate for her
strength. Joe, even with his undisputed expertise,
was struggling to keep up with her, and it took them a
few agonizingly long minutes to settle into enough of
a rhythm to get them heading straight.

Though she wanted to apologize to Joe for making him
work so hard at something that should be so simple,
she found she couldn’t speak over the lump in her
throat. Every stroke of the paddle took her breath
away – reminding her of Riley, of how easy it had been
to settle into that rhythm with him. And she wasn’t
just talking about the canoe.

These last few weeks had been so good, so right. He
fit her in a way she would never have expected. All
the edges that had been too rough the first time
around – or maybe not rough enough – had evened out;
no – had fused together. It was impossible not to
wonder if that was about to change, not to think about
whether he’d be coming home.

She was glad when Brady broke the silence. “Willow –
can we just confirm? We’re not doing the interlocking
souls thing, right? I mean, Riley’s a great guy and
all-”

“No,” Willow answered. “No interlocking of any kind.”
Buffy didn’t need to look up to know the faint
sadness in her voice was an apology of sorts.

Buffy shook her head. She wasn’t looking for any
mystical connection. She wanted Riley to come back
because he wanted to, not because some spell dictated
it. This needed to be on his own terms.

Brady still had questions, though. He glanced from
Willow to Buffy and then back again. “Shouldn’t you
be telling Buffy to think about Riley? Declaring her
love and all that? If that’s what-”

“I’m good,” Willow said, cutting him off again. “It’s
nothing that needs to be said.”

Again, Buffy could feel Willow’s eyes on her. This
time, though, she did look up, feeling a rush of
warmth as she saw the look on Willow’s face – complete
love and trust; no doubt whatsoever.

God, Will. Thank you. Buffy hadn’t realized how much
she needed that. She had to close her eyes. This was
not the time for emotion. It was the time for...

Well, apparently, it was the time for Brady to ask
another question: “Did anyone happen to think about
how we’re going to get whoever it is to believe that
we’re a six-foot tall, two hundred pound widower
traveling alone?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Brady.” Brooks’ voice came in
over the com-cams. “Will you just shut up? Of course
Willow considered it. She’s not exactly an amateur.”

Buffy could practically feel the wind shift as
everyone’s heads swiveled towards Willow – Willow, who
was trying hard not to roll her eyes as she nodded.

The whole exchange brought a smile to Graham’s face,
something Buffy was glad to see. He had to be
wondering about this was all going to play out, too.
And she certainly hadn’t done anything to help by
pushing Joe on him. He seemed to be back in command,
though, saying, “Weapons at ready.” He nodded. “O.k.
Willow – do your thing.”

Willow went into trance mode. “Form of a six-foot
tall widower. Shape of…” She opened her eyes and
smiled at everyone looking at her. “Just making sure
you were all paying attention.” She started
whispering in the language Buffy assumed to be
Anishnaabe.

As Willow spoke, Buffy could feel her skin start to
tingle – pins and needles, she remembered Riley
saying. Well, kind of like pins and needles. It was
more pervasive, more of a buzz, coming from within.
Then the buzz changed suddenly, flaring up into a
burn, an electric, angry current coursing through her
body.

“Buffy...”

Brooks. Through the com-cam. Saying, “Buffy – I need
you back.”

Buffy forced herself to breathe through the fire. She
opened her eyes – when had she closed them? – to see
the others staring at her. Without realizing it,
she’d pulled the paddle in off the water and bent
over. Shaking it off and putting her paddle back
where it was supposed to be, she said, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Brooks answered, “because you’ve got
thunderclouds ahead. Bearing down quickly.”

She instinctively looked in the direction from which
the storm had come the first time. As with before,
the skies were perfectly clear. This time, though,
she knew where to look – on the water.

And there it was, skimming across the surface – the
shockwave that brought with it the wind and the waves.
Not nearly as violent as it had been before, however;
that was clear even from this distance. Actually, it
was clear even further away, as evidenced by Brooks
muttering, “That’s it? You guys are getting off
easy.”

That wasn’t quite true, as it turned out. Fighting
for survival had served as a distraction; now the only
choice was to listen to the hum as it grew louder, to
see the darkness at it approached. “Now might be a
good time to put on those masks,” she heard Graham
say.

Yes, she thought, pulling it over her head. Most
definitely.

Except that it didn’t do too much to help that
crushing feeling in her chest as if the air were being
squeezed out of her lungs; and it did nothing at all
to hide the butterflies. Without the raging wind and
the driving rain, she could actually see them rise
from the surface, detaching from the water one by one
as they formed a carpet rising up over the edges of
the canoes.

Brady reached his hand out, smiling as he watched it
disappear into the cloak of wings. The com-cams were
already dead, but she could see him mouth the words,
‘It tickles.’ For all of his complaining, he actually
looked like he was enjoying this.

Buffy was not. She was wishing that she’d had some of
Ro’s meditation training, because Joe and the other
men from the village – with their eyes closed and
their heads bowed – weren’t seeing anything. She, on
the other hand, was seeing the butterflies creep
around her and close in; helplessly watching the boats
around her slowly disappear.

Clawing out of a grave tended to stay with a girl,
and she had to remind herself that she wasn’t being
buried alive, wasn’t being crushed by the weight of
the ground on top of her. She had to fight the urge
to resist as she felt the air vibrate in the wake of
millions of fluttering wings. It wasn’t going to make
a difference.

Breathe into the mask. Breathe out and then in. Let
the wings make contact, let them creep along your arms
and legs, crawl up under your skin. Let them take
hold and fly you away; let them fly you home.





TBC in Chapter 46








=====
Writing as Alexandra Huxley
http://home.mindspring.com/~jenkel/fanfic/index.html

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