Butterfly Ops
By Alexandra Huxley
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc. in chapter 45.

Chapter Forty-Six (B)

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


He stuck out his hand. “I’m Riley. Riley Finn.”

She looked at him for a minute as though he were
crazy. Then she reached out slowly and shook his
hand.

Well, hey – what else were you supposed to do with a
millions-year-old warrior princess that you had almost
slept with on the way to joining your dead wife in
Forever? Shaking hands was as good as anything else
he could think of at the moment. In a strange kind of
way, it made him feel at least a little bit better.

Not her apparently. She pulled her knees up to her
chest and hunched her shoulders. “So what happens
now?”

“What happens now?” She was asking him? Seriously?

“Have I done my penance?” She seemed relieved, as
though she just wanted to get this over with. And
annoyed. Defiant despite the defeat in her words.
“Did they send you here to end it?” She held her
hands out to him the way a prisoner would, expecting
to be chained. The defeat seemed to be winning,
though, deflating her as she pleaded softly, “Will you
please just end it?”

O.k. Huh?

Riley pulled the chair a couple of feet away from the
bed and sat down, not having any clue as to what she
was talking about. “I’m not quite-”

“It’s because of what I did, right?” She leapt to her
feet, making Riley tense. Except that she wasn’t
attacking, she was pacing, a bundle of unexpendable
energy. Kind of like Buffy.

Don’t think about Buffy.

“I know,” she was saying. “It was dumb.”

“Dumb?” She’d killed fourteen men and she thought it
was ‘dumb’? “That’s not exactly how I’d put it.”

“I just...” She sat down heavily on the bed and
leaned forward, her eyes begging for understanding.
“I watched him die. I watched it eat him away. There
was nothing I could...” Her voice faded away and she
looked down.

Alright. That one he knew: Didier Longer. Death by
smallpox. A horrible death under any circumstances,
but for a Slayer-type who was used to kicking the ass
of the Big Bads? He’d seen Buffy spin out of control
when her mom got sick. If he’d been a little less
screwed up at the time...

Oh – don’t even think about going there. Not now.
Especially not when extra-strength warrior princess
was grabbing his hands with renewed resolve, saying,
“Do you understand what it’s like? To love someone so
much that you can’t just let go?”

Well, actually... No. Don’t answer. He was happy to
play the role of confessor, not of confessee. Riley
tried to pull his hands away. It only made her hold
on tighter.

“And you know he just needs you to tell him it’s o.k.
That he can go.” She was crying now. “Except that
you can’t. You can’t imagine life without him.
You’re too weak to pray for him to die; you can only
pray for him to live.”

She had to know his answer was yes. That he’d spent
two days doing nothing but that, making every kind of
deal with God that he could think of. Pleading - no,
begging – Let her live, please just let her live. No
matter how broken, how scarred. It was Sam – she
could make it through. She could make it through
anything.

He’d known, though, that it wasn’t true. Somehow –
deep down in his gut – he’d known she wasn’t coming
back.

If he’d actually seen her suffer? Seen her dying in
front of him? Could he honestly say he’d have been
strong enough to give her that? Strong enough to let
her go? He hoped so. And yet...

No. He was glad he hadn’t had to relive those days,
glad Kaseniiosta hadn’t taken him there.

Riley looked up to see her staring at him, the tears
streaming down her face. So maybe she didn’t realize
he knew exactly what she was talking about – she’d
only taken him to the good times. For her sake as
much as his.

Except none of that mattered. This was all
irrelevant. May as well just be blunt. “You killed
fourteen men.”

“I...?” She dropped his hands and sat back. “What?”

Riley nodded at the bed she sat on. “Fourteen men.”

“I...” Her hands fell to her sides and she shook her
head. “No.”

“No?” He stood up and walked away from her. “That
wasn’t what you were talking about? The thing that
was ‘dumb’?”

She looked at the bed. “No – they were already dead.
I mean...” She looked down at herself and then back
up at him. “I mean we. We’re already dead.”

Oh, how he hoped not. And seeing as how everything in
his body seemed to be working o.k., he felt
comfortable tabling that discussion. Leaning against
the wall, he folded his arms across his chest. “Then
what were you talking about? What did you do that
made you come here?”

She looked away, embarrassed, saying something that
Riley couldn’t make out.

“Say that again?” he asked, leaning forward.

Turning back to him, she set her shoulders, quietly
indignant, in the way Buffy had been with her
not-basking avowal. “I wrote poetry.”

“What?” He actually had to force himself not to
laugh. “Poetry?”

She shrugged with an exaggerated nonchalance. “Not
very good poetry.”

No. Absolutely do not laugh. This was anything but
funny. “You wrote bad poetry?”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” she snapped. “Just not
very good.”

He gave her a non-committal, “Oh.” And then, “Like
what?” He couldn’t help it.

She shrugged again, mumbling words he could barely
hear. Something about wind dancing and stars singing.
Or maybe the other way around. Something
‘devouring’? ‘Consuming’?

Though she was turning pink, her voice grew stronger.
“‘When daylight comes...’” The same pink as the light
seeping into the room. “‘...we will be one.’”

Riley followed her gaze to the darkened doorway. The
one that wasn’t quite so dark, actually, with the sun
doing its rising thing. He looked back at her,
remembering the way she’d stopped, stunned, when she
saw the light start to turn, murmuring, ‘Daylight is
coming.’

Well, what do you know? This was starting to make a
little sense. The markings on the rock. Joe asking
Buffy about ‘true love.’ That whole becoming ‘one’
thing that they’d almost just done. Riley sank down
to the floor, his back to the wall. “It was your
spell.” Resting his wrists on his knees, he held his
hands together loosely. “Except you didn’t cast it.
You’ve been living it.”

“Before we-” Riley gestured at the bed with his hand,
somewhat comforted to see that she looked as
uncomfortable as he felt. “Before. When I asked
about my ring. You said something about me coming to
you.”

She nodded, somewhat apprehensively. The tears seemed
to be dissipating, though.

“How?” he asked. “Did I just appear? Naked in your
bed?”

A shy smile appeared on her face. It looked nice on
her. “Except for the naked part. Yes.”

Damn. He really needed to learn how not to blush.
That should be part of Basic Training. “And the naked
part was because...?”

“You were covered with dead butterflies. I had to
wash them out of your...” She laughed as he shifted
self-consciously. “...Clothes. What did you think I
was going to say?”

No comment. Back to his original train of thought.
“You had nothing to do with bringing anyone here,” he
stated, realizing that it was true.

A touch of fire flared in her eyes. “Anyone I brought
here wouldn’t have looked like-” She snapped her
mouth shut as her gaze swept Riley’s body. “He would
have been short and fat; he would have had no hair and
beady little eyes.” As she turned away, her voice
caught. “And I would have loved him. I would never
have let him leave.”

Six feet tall; two hundred pounds. Hello, Victim
Profile. Except – did the spell work the same way for
her? If she wasn’t appearing as Sam, shouldn’t he not
be appearing as Didier? “Do I still look like him to
you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. The flames died down and he
could actually feel her pain. “You always did.”

He shook his head. “The others...” His voice trailed
off as the meaning of what she’d just said fully hit
him. With the exception of his build, he bore no
resemblance to the other men who had disappeared.

Riley got to his feet slowly. She’d told him that he
looked like Didier – so what? His mother insisted
that he looked like Jon Stewart, which was obviously
not true. It was something people said. He hadn’t
taken it literally, more concerned about keeping
himself from throwing her on the ground and-

Um, more concerned about not throwing her on the
ground. He’d just leave it at that.

But he’d been right before – she didn’t want this any
more than he did. She didn’t want to be seeing him or
touching him or, probably even talking to him. It was
the same reason he never could have loved Sam if she’d
looked anything like Buffy; the same reason having it
be Buffy back in his life again was easier because she
looked nothing like Sam. It just hurt too damn much.

Seeing Sam’s eyes, seeing her smile... Knowing that
this couldn’t possibly be her and yet wanting so
desperately to be wrong.

God, how Kaseniiosta must have hated him. If he
thought what he’d felt was anger when he’d woken up
this last time, what she’d probably felt was ten times
worse. Or make that fourteen times – she’d probably
felt that way with every one of those men.
Experiencing it once had been more than enough for
him. “You haven’t stopped looking, have you?” Riley
looked down. “Every time a man appeared here, a part
of you thought it might be him.” When he’d appeared,
actually looking like Didier...

Did she think he’d been provoking her? She had said
he was different. He’d thought that was Sam, saying
that he’d changed in the years since she’d died. He’d
been wrong, though; it was Kaseniiosta telling him he
was different than the other men, than the ones who
had come before. Not just because what he looked
like, either.

Seeing her reactions with the benefit of a much
clearer hindsight, he was guessing that he’d been the
only one to make it as far as getting dressed, much
less have an actual meal with her, have a
conversation. She may even have thought he’d been
the one who sent every one of those men that preceded
him, teasing her, playing upon her raw emotions,
making her hope just one more time. “It’s why you
read the dreams. You kept hoping to find yourself
there.”

With him it had gone one step further – she’d actually
believed, if only for a moment. The way she’d kissed
him after the Okinawa flashback hadn’t been the
focused here’s-what-today’s-dreams-will-be-about kind
of kiss, but rather one you might find yourself lost
in thinking this might just be your long lost love.
Even knowing it wasn’t Didier – she’d actually said it
wasn’t right – it was hard not to want it to be, hard
not to just let it overtake you. What he’d been
struggling with since the moment he got here.

And then this last time – all the things she’d been
saying – being bound, being entranced, wanting
‘him’/'her' out of her skin.

“The other men.” Riley walked back to the chair and
turned it so that its back was to his front as he sat
down and leaned forward against it. “You said you’d
give me what I wanted. You said you’d send me home.
If we had...” Damn if he wasn’t blushing again.
“What would have happened to me?”

She gave him one of Buffy’s
do-you-really-need-me-to-answer-that looks. “I expect
you would have finished, um...enjoying yourself.”

Well, good. At least she was having a little bit of a
hard time with this, too. “That’s not what I meant.”

She raised her eyebrows in an innocent kind of way as
she bit her lip.

He shifted uncomfortably. Fine. “Would I have just
disappeared? Into some...” - what? - “...Blinding
flash of light?”

Now she was just grinning evilly, looking like she was
trying to decide whether to let him go on for a while,
or whether to just be nice. Thankfully, she went with
nice. “Yes, actually.” Her grin turned into a low,
engaging laugh. “The ‘souls entwining’ thing seems to
be the best part.”

Riley couldn’t help but smile back. “Your poem?”

There was a twinkle in her eye. “I was young.”

He had to admit – as deaths go, this probably would
have been one of the better ones. Except – “Seems to
be?”

Her laughter disappeared and she looked away. “I’m
not usually there for that part. That part’s just for
them.”

“For...?” Riley found he couldn’t breathe. For them.
For the man and his wife. It hadn’t just been Sam’s
voice – it had been her. Sam had been the one
Kaseniiosta needed to get out of her skin – literally.


Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he had known that...

Riley bowed his head and pressed his palms against his
eyes. Damn it. God, how he wished he had known that
– there were so many things he would have told her.
So many things he had left to say. For example, I’m
sorry – so Goddamned sorry – that the last words I
ever said to you weren’t that I loved you. Fuck.

He quietly said, “They possessed you.”

She bit her lip again. This time it wasn’t laughter
she was trying to hold in.

Well, hell. Join the club. “Was Sam here this whole
time? Was she...?” He looked at the bed.

“No.” Now it was Kaseniiosta’s turn to stand up and
walk away, going over to the table. “She wanted you
so much. I almost couldn’t...” She sat down hard and
her hand went to the hem of her skirt. “It hurt. I
think too much.”

She looked up. “Sam wasn’t like the others. She was
always fighting me. She came and went.”
Kaseniiosta’s eyes were full of apology. “She left.
I don’t know where... I’m sorry.”

And that, Riley, is called a ton of bricks crashing
down on your head. ‘I already knew she was strong,’
Kaseniiosta had said when he’d confronted her about
the fight on the bluff. He’d thought she was talking
about Buffy; except when he mentioned Buffy’s name,
Kaseniiosta was surprised - because Sam had been the
one fighting her all along.

From early on Sam had known this was wrong. It had
been her voice, prodding him. Something else had to
be going on, too, otherwise she wouldn’t have let it
get as far as it did. Maybe she hadn’t known the
whole story; maybe it took her a while to figure out
how to stay outside of Kaseniiosta’s body for any
sustained period of time. Or maybe she had just gone
visiting. Who knew? Whatever she had been doing
seemed to have had its results.

He smiled, which seemed to confuse Kaseniiosta. “Sam
didn’t leave,” Riley said softly. “She was still
here.” He wasn’t going to dwell on that, though.
Couldn’t. Instead he said, “So, if she was gone...”

The Princess didn’t look confused anymore. Judging by
the dark shade of red she had become, it was clear she
understood what he was saying, which was basically –
what was your excuse?

“I...” Her hands dropped from her skirt. She looked
up at him, her defiance back in full form. “I thought
it was my turn. That you had come for me.” She added
softly, “That it was my turn to go home.” She stood
up and started pacing again. “You’re all...”

All what? he thought, watching her; waiting for her to
continue. Who all? Him and Sam? Buffy, too?

“Your women are different. Strong. Not that the
others were weak, they just didn’t seem to-” She
stopped moving. “Riley? Are you listening to me?”

What? Oh. “Yeah. Sorry.” He’d just been thinking
how he wouldn’t really put it that way. ‘His’ women.
Right. Speaking of which. “Kasenii-”

“Could you not call me that? Didier was the on-” She
snapped her mouth shut. “Kasey would be better,” she
mumbled.

Whatever. “Kasey...” He looked past her to the
darkened opening in the wall. “What’s out there?”

Her eyes slowly took in the darkened entry; then she
looked back at him, not at all interested. “Another
room. Why?”

“Why?” He stood up and walked towards it. “Because
that’s how we get out of here. That’s why.”

She looked stunned. Guilty, too. As though there was
this huge thing that she’d completely forgotten to
mention. Like, for example, a huge flashing ‘Exit’
sign.

Moving past her, he stuck his head thru the opening.
Yep. Another room. With a lot of those bowls in it –
every size and color imaginable. She hadn’t been
kidding. Interesting. And kind of weird.

There was more flickering on the walls in here, and
another entryway. Looks like there’d be only one way
to go. Well, that at least meant the plan was pretty
simple.

He turned back to her. “What’s on the other side of
that door?”

She still looked surprised that he’d even ask the
question. Honestly? He was surprised himself.
Except in his case it was because he couldn’t believe
he hadn’t actually done it before. Only when he’d
first woken up had he even wondered what was beyond
this room. Was that all part of the spell? Penning
him in? Making it so that the only thing he could
possibly see was Sam?

Shaking her head, Kasey drew inward a little.
“Nothing. We can’t....” She hugged herself tightly.
“It won’t work.”

Riley came back to her. How many times had he heard
that before? Sure, sometimes it was true. Not
always, though. “You said I was different. That Sam
and Buffy were different.” He put his hands on her
shoulders, stopping her from backing away. “We have a
choice, Kasey. Sam gave it to us. We can make it be
a different ending.”

“I don’t...” There was a vacant look in her eyes.
The kind of look he had seen once before on Buffy’s
face what seemed like a billion years before. One of
complete defection to the uninterested side. It
didn’t fit Buffy back then, and it didn’t fit
Kaseniiosta now.

“Kasey...” He said it sharply enough to pull her back
to him, her eyes finally getting some of the spark
back. “I don’t want to be here anymore. You said
you’d send me home, right?” He pointed to the
entryway. “That’s the only road I see.”

It didn’t seem to be getting through her defenses.
Her detachment had been too long in coming.

He supposed he didn't need her to come with him; that
he could just leave her here. That didn’t seem to
have done anyone much good so far, though. And his
chances were probably a little better with someone
who’d been in this world for a lot longer than he had.
A lot better when that someone was a warrior princess
with supernatural strength. He wasn’t quite ready to
give up.

“Do you want me to tell you about my kids? How Kate
cried for Sam every night? How Jack still...” Damn.
The problem with playing the emotion card – you
weren’t immune from it yourself. Thinking about
Jack’s wide, scared eyes the day they’d left for
Quetico... The way he’d looked at that helicopter
waiting on the tarmac...

Tactics, Ri. Just take a deep breath. There was a
reason she hadn’t let him dream the bad parts – it was
because she didn’t want to know. Just another
weakness to take advantage of; the way you’ve survived
the last twenty years. This might be the only way to
get back. “How Jack still hates it when I fly?”

Kasey pulled out of his grasp, turned her back and
walked a few steps away.

Riley didn’t let up, following her. “You know what he
wants to do when I get back? He wants to ride the
train – get on at North Station and head all the way
up to B.C. He likes to watch the people. He makes up
stories about them – the greatest stories. I just sit
there and watch his eyes come alive.”

Kasey had her hands over her ears. She was shaking
her head.

Riley put his hand on her shoulder and turned her back
to him. “I promised him, Kasey. I promised him I’d
be coming back. I-”

“O.k. - stop!” she finally snapped. She briskly wiped
her eyes, a hard thing to do while she was glaring at
him. She managed, though. “I’d rather hear about
Buffy.”

“Really?” That was enough of a surprise that Riley
found himself smiling. He thought he could manage
that. “What do you want to know?”

A slow grin came over Kasey’s face. “What she’s
planning to do with my knife.”

Riley clamped his mouth shut as the heat rose in his
cheeks. He had absolutely no idea how to respond to
that, especially because she had turned and headed
back to the bed. That wasn’t good. “Um...”

Her eyes became playful. “Don’t worry – you can keep
your pants on.”

Nope. No response whatsoever, except for that
redundant yet handy, “Um...”

It was soon clear, however, that she wasn’t going to
the bed for the reason he thought; instead, she knelt
on the floor and reached under it. When she pulled
her hands out, a trunk came with them. A trunk very
much like the one Buffy used to keep under her bed.

O.k., he thought with more than a little bit of
relief. That was more like it. Riley walked over.

“You have weapons?” Riley asked as she opened it up.
Well, damn. Talk about well stocked. “They sent you
here with weapons?”

He looked around, his eyes taking in the bleak, black
room that had imprisoned her for hundreds of years.
Complete desolation; nothing but utter despair. Oh,
how he’d been there. Day in and day out, thinking
about how Sam had died.

If he had been locked up here for that long? With
weapons? Hell, he had had his kids to live for, the
daily grind to keep him occupied, and he still
couldn’t say the thought of ending it all hadn’t
occurred to him. Even now – when the nightmares would
come – it was hard to keep that hopelessness at bay.
Or, at least it had been, until about a week ago.
Still... “Weren’t they afraid that you’d-?”

She pulled the knife from the trunk – one that looked
almost exactly like the one he’d thrown Buffy on that
bluff – and drew the tip up her forearm, tearing into
the veins. On pure instinct, Riley fell to his knees,
grabbing her wrist despite knowing that was the kind
of cut you couldn’t heal.

“Kasey...” He looked up at her, only to find her
staring back – no fear of an imminent death, no
indication of pain.

She smiled. “You think I didn’t try it?”

He followed her gaze back down. For some reason, he
wasn’t entirely surprised to see that there was no
cut, no blood. He turned her arm in his hands, even
though it seemed pretty obvious that there wouldn’t be
any blood there either. It was just...weird. He’d
never seen anything like that before.

“Didier called it a birthmark,” she said.

Huh? “He called that a birthmark?” Birthright,
maybe, not birthma-

“The butterfly.” She pulled her sleeve back a bit,
fully revealing the black mark that had been peeking
out just above the crook of her elbow. A black mark
looking like a butterfly spreading its wings, about to
take flight. “That’s what you were looking at, isn’t
it?”

“No,” he answered, distracted. Hello, Butterfly
Queen. How she got her name.

“Oh,” she went on, realizing what he’d meant. “The no
blood thing.” She shook her head. “See? I told you
I was already dead.” She held the knife out to him.
“Want to try?”

This time he wasn’t at all distracted. “No. I really
don’t.”

Her smile broadened. “Because you think you’re not
already dead.” She said it as though she were
indulging him.

Sorry. He refused to believe it. Shaking his head,
he asserted, “I know I’m not.”

Kasey took his hand and placed the knife in it. “If I
take you out there, you won’t be able to say that for
much longer.”

So she had been through those doors once upon a time.
He closed his hand over the knife. “Who do we have to
fight?”

“Guards. Too many to count.” She turned back to the
trunk and started grabbing weapons, giving some to
him, keeping some to herself. It was hard not to
think about Buffy as he watched her stow the knives in
her clothes, strap them on to her arms, her legs.

Actually the ones on her legs he didn’t watch. He was
already in far too much trouble.

With a grin, she looked at him. “We don’t stand a
chance. You realize that, don’t you?”

Riley did some stowing and strapping of his own –
mostly knives. There was a cool mace-type thing.
He’d give that a try. “That’s never stopped me
before.” He stood up.

“Wait...” There was one last thing she wanted from
the trunk. She pulled it out and unwrapped the
blanket that protected it. A weapon – a three-foot
pole with a dagger strapped on one end, two circular
blades on the other. She held it out to him. “This
was Didier’s,” she said. “I don’t think he’d mind you
using it.”

Riley took it, testing its strength, pulling at the
bindings that held the blades. Yep. That would do.
That would definitely do. “Thanks.” He looked over
to see her staring at him. “What?”

“Do you think she’s out there? Coming for you?”
Kasey nodded toward the door. “The one you...” She
blushed and looked away. “Buffy?”

Gee. And he’d actually forgotten for a minute that
she’d witnessed all that. Experienced it.

He looked at the doorway. Was Buffy looking for him?
Would she be out there? Or, more to the point, would
she ever speak to him again?

No. Go back to that second to last question. “Yes.
I think so.” Actually, no: he knew so. He wasn't
sure how, but he just knew.

Standing up, Kasey said, “Good. I think we might need
her. She was good.” A sly smile appeared on her
face. “Not as good as I once was, but I think she’ll
do.” She started to head for the door and then
paused. “Riley Finn.” She spoke his name as though
she were trying it out on her lips, seeing how it
felt. “You intrigue me. I hope you don’t die.” Her
smile came back. “If you’re right about not already
being dead, that is.”

Yeah, well, he hoped he wouldn’t die, too. Riley
squared his shoulders, his eye on the doorway as he
wondered what they’d find out there. Wondered eagerly
as it turned out.

Raising her weapon to the ready, she laughed. Of
course, she had no reason not to - for her this was
all just an exercise. She couldn’t get hurt. Still,
it was much more light-heartedly than he would have
expected, given her hesitancy of only moments ago.
“Ready?”

Smiling, he nodded. “Ready.” He supposed he
shouldn’t be surprised – after all, she was
essentially a Slayer. Give her a weapon – or seven –
and she was happy.

He followed her through the second room, not even
getting the chance to approach the second doorway
cautiously, because she was already out. And, since
he felt some responsibility for talking her into this,
he wasn’t about to let her face it alone.

The moment he was out the door, though, he had to
stop; he was completely unprepared. ‘A world of
darkness and flame.’ He’d seen the darkness; this
was... Damn. This was the flame. Living and
breathing flame everywhere he looked; a landscape
ablaze with color, the sunrise itself.

He reached out tentatively, seeing if he could touch
the shimmering ribbons of red and purple and orange
and pink, bands of color as far as the eye could see.
His hand sliced through it, grabbing hold of nothing
more solid than a heavy fog. He followed slowly
behind Kasey, wading through the waves of gold.

The scenery was so fantastic that he got caught up in
it – stupid rookie mistake. He almost ran into Kasey
when she stopped.

She tipped her chin and raised her knife as what
seemed like a hundred armed men fell into place in a
line advancing towards them. “Riley, I hope you fight
as well as you kiss.”

Her grin was as surprising as the words behind it; it
reminded him of Buffy. Of how much he wanted to see
Buffy.

That was about all the time he had to think – he took
out the first three men on pure Buffy buzz. The
adrenaline took over from there – fueled by the
frustration he’d felt the entire week in the woods,
just waiting to be picked off and by the anger of
spending these last, well, however long it had been,
as a caged animal.

And then there was Sam. He couldn’t think about what
he had just given up – he didn’t dare let that enter
his brain right now - but there was no way in hell he
was going to waste that chance just to die anyway.

“Did I just hear you laugh?” Kasey called over to him,
smiling as she sliced her knife through, well, through
some guy’s neck.

He swung the blade she’d given him and felt an
incredible rush as the blur of men just kept coming.
Yeah, he probably had just laughed. Because – this
felt good. This felt damn good. He was going home.




End of Chapter 46






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

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