Butterfly Ops
By Alexandra Huxley
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc. in chapter 49A.

Chapter Fifty

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


Riley’s conversation with his mother lasted all of two
minutes. Actually, ‘conversation’ wasn’t even the
right word; it was more of Riley listening as Mary
woke up the kids, and then his trying to be heard over
their screams – ones that Buffy assumed were happy
this time.

He was cut off by the appearance of the two
helicopters, swooping down past the tops of the trees
– one to take Ana, Sprague, and Brady back to Quetico
to help Brooks pack everything up; the other to get
Riley home. Buffy figured that Brooks had kept them
on standby, using the com-cam as the tracking signal
the second Ana got it up and running again.

Looking up, Riley said into the com-cam, “Get some
sleep. I’ll wake you up when I get home.”

“You o.k.?” Buffy asked as he relinquished the
earpiece to Graham.

Riley didn’t answer at first, taking a long look
around. “You know, there’s something about this
place. It’s kind of weird to be leaving.”

Speak for yourself, she thought. Personally, she
couldn’t wait to get out of here.

She didn’t say that, of course. No matter what had
happened, Quetico would always be important to him; it
would always be the place where he’d said good-bye to
Sam.

“You could always come back,” Joe said, coming up
behind them. “There’s a whole lot of park you never
got to see. I hear kids like it, too.”

Standing up, Riley smiled. “You sure you haven’t had
enough of my family?”

Since Buffy knew that all four Finn children were in
their house thousands of miles away and that Joe had
never had any contact with them, it was clear Riley
was talking about Sam.

Buffy stood more slowly, a bit unsettled. For the
first time in three weeks, she was thinking of Sam as
a part of that family unit – as a living, breathing,
non-dead part of that unit. The part of that unit
that Joe probably knew better than Buffy did,
considering he’d practically spent an entire day with
her. Or, at least, with Riley’s dreams of her – with
Riley’s vivid, intense dreams of his wife.

Not that Buffy had been thinking that there’d been an
opening which no longer needed to be filled; it was
just that her definition of Riley’s ‘family’ was his
kids and his parents. The last twenty-four hours put
a new – not entirely desirable – spin on things.

She realized Riley had just turned to her and asked
her something. “What?”

Though Riley didn’t miss a beat, Buffy could tell he
was paying particular attention everything she did.
Not really in a suspicious way, as he had when he
first saw her not even an hour ago; more as though he
were gauging her reactions, trying to figure out where
the landmines were.

“I said,” he repeated in the most innocuous way
possible, “what do you think about that? Next summer
– bringing the kids out here.”

Whoa. Speaking of family units...

Bringing the kids? Him and her bringing children
somewhere? The way parents do?

That sent her reeling for completely different
reasons. In the beginning, after the whole ‘play for
keeps’ talk, Buffy had blithely used the word
‘stepmother.’ Now that she was a little deeper in,
she realized it had all been in abstract; that she’d
never really considered herself as part of Riley’s
domestic picture. What he had just said sounded so
odd to her. Much, much too grown-up; laden with an
entirely different kind of responsibility than the
kind she was used to.

Of course, if she stopped to think about it, it would
probably be kind of fun to see Liam speed through the
rapids and catch some air – better than he could with
any skateboard. And she and Jack could trade stories
over the campfire – she’d take the vampires; he could
cover the ghosts. Not to mention that Buffy was
absolutely positive that she and Kate would kill Annie
and Riley in a canoe race.

She could feel a grin coming on. “Next summer?” It
certainly didn’t hurt that Riley’s asking also meant
that despite his own ups and downs – despite having
just held the woman he’d buried eight years before –
he was still thinking long-term. He was thinking they
could get past the warrior princesses and ethereal
wives and just somehow be normal. Together. “I think
I could be up for that.”

“Yeah?” A slow smile broke over his face. He had
obviously seen the panic in her eyes; seen it change
into something...grown-up. Turning back to Joe, he
said, “Next summer then. Count on it.”

The two men shook hands. For once, Joe didn’t look
amused; he just looked happy.

So, Buffy, don’t blow the mood by crying when you
reach for his arm and say, “Thank you.”

Given the magnitude of what she owed him, the words
sounded so completely inadequate. If it weren’t for
Joe, she wouldn’t be standing here right now. Nor,
probably, would Riley. And the guy hadn’t even gotten
his own com-cam out of it. She’d have to figure out
an appropriate substitute.

The Joe she knew came back, laughter shining bright in
his eyes. As though he’d heard her thoughts – which
she wouldn’t put past him given that almost everyone
in these parts seemed to be able to – he answered,
“I’d like to visit Boston someday, maybe Cape Cod. I
hear they have some nice sunsets there.”

She couldn’t help but look up at Riley as she grabbed
at his hand, remembering the things he’d promised her
the day of the bear. “So I’ve been told.” That was
a vacation they’d be taking alone. No kids.
Grown-ups only. Turning attention back to Joe, she
added, “Come visit any time. I have plenty of room.”

Joe nodded and started to turn away. He hesitated for
a minute and then turned back, gazing directly into
Buffy’s eyes. “A Saturday in October. That would be
a good day.”

A Saturday? In October? Huh? “A good day for what?”
For visiting?

“Invite Ro, too.” Joe smiled. “He likes that song.”


Against all possible odds, she heard Bette Midler’s
voice carried by the wind as Joe walked away.

No way, she thought, the smile dawning on her face.
That was what you call proof. She only barely
resisted doing a Snoopy dance. Turning to Riley, she
asked, “Do you hear that?”

Riley looked at her as though she were absolutely
batty. “Hear what?”

Buffy put her arms around Riley’s neck, deciding not
to notice the delay in his hands going to her waist.
She was on a high right now; she’d concentrate on his
grin instead. “Wind beneath my wings, Baby. Wind
beneath my wings.”

Riley didn’t even try to pretend that he had any idea
of what she was talking about. “Am I supposed to get
that?”

“You will.” She nuzzled his neck and started to work
her way up his jaw. “But that is so not important
right now.” Reaching his ear, she murmured, “What is
important, is that the only way Joe could possibly
have known that is if he had a direct link to...” She
pulled back and pointed up at the sky, laughing when
Riley rolled his eyes.

Forget the Snoopy dance. Clasping her hands above her
head, she gave Riley a dance all of his own, singing,
“I told you so, I told you so...”

He grinned, obviously not minding her moving against
him. Before he had a chance to concede, though –
which she was sure he would have, given the evidence –
Graham yelled, “People – could we get the hell out of
here?” Unhappily, he added, “And could someone
please tell me why I have bad eighties music running
through my head?”

Bad? Since when was Graham the arbiter of taste?

Riley held out his hand, gesturing towards the
helicopter. “After you.”

Don’t mind if I do.


*********


“Home, sweet home!” the pilot cheerily called out.

Buffy opened her eyes, surprised to see that they had
already touched down. Had she really slept for almost
the entire trip? She felt all out of sorts, which was
probably why it seemed to her that Riley’s voice was
just a little too hearty when he answered, “Yeah.
Thanks for the ride.” He unbuckled himself and jumped
out of his seat, walking ahead with the pilots and
being way too sociable for someone who had just been
through, well, whatever he’d been through.

Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to move.
Riley’s job meant he had to schmooze all the time;
this was just normal.

She was sure she just imagining it. At the moment,
Graham certainly wasn’t acting like anything was
wrong. He was laughing at Willow’s attempt to jump
out of the helicopter without falling on her face
while Willow muttered something about flattening the
darn helicopter and showing it who really had the
power.

Still, Buffy kept her eyes on Riley the whole way
across the tarmac and through the parking lot. He
seemed so tired as he leaned against Graham’s car,
tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

As they neared, he said, “Hear that?”

Um... Buffy looked at Graham and Willow. They just
shrugged. “No.”

He opened his eyes and grinned. “Me, neither. Sounds
good, doesn’t it?”

Now that was more like it. Buffy’s voices were mostly
quiet, too. She smiled. “Yes. It does.”

Graham let his backpack fall from his shoulder and
reached in to get his keys. “You two are weird.”
Stepping forward, he clasped Riley’s shoulder and
shook his head. “Man, this is... This is kind of
unreal.”

He pulled back and grinned at Buffy, leaning down and
giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to have you on
the team.” Just when she was feeling all warm and
fuzzy, he looked at his watch and added, “The
debriefing’s in about eight hours. Drink a lot of
coffee. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one.”
Turning to Willow, he asked, “Ready?”

To Buffy’s surprise, Willow nodded. There had clearly
been a previous discussion about Graham taking her
home.

Willow gave Riley a long, hard hug, saying, “Make sure
you wear your seatbelt. After all this, it would
really suck if you became a casualty of Buffy’s
driving.”

“Gee, Will, thanks,” Buffy said. Nothing like having
your best friend be behind you one hundred percent.

The hug Buffy got was much quicker, but no less
intense. Willow took a step back and smiled as she
looked at Buffy and Riley. “This is nice,” she said.
“I like this.” Turning to Graham, she pulled at his
arm. “Come on. Sarah said there’d be cake.”

Riley watched the two of them get into Graham’s car.
“When did that happen?”

Following his gaze, Buffy asked, “When did what
happen?”

“Them being all buddy-buddy.” Riley said. He waved
as they drove off. “And how does Willow know Sarah?”

Buffy shrugged in a way that she hoped came off as
nonchalant. “It’s been kind of intense around here.”

His hand dropping to his side, Riley glanced down at
the ground. “Yeah, intense. That’s a good way to put
it.”

Nice way to open the can of worms, Buff. And yet...
“Will you tell me about it?”

Stepping close, Riley put his hand through her hair.
“Whatever you want to know. Just...” He seemed to
notice something on his arm. “Not tonight, o.k.?”

She nodded. That worked just fine with her timetable.

He pulled his hand away, looking uncomfortable. “I
don’t suppose there’s any chance you carry spare
clothes around with you?” He tried to smile. “I’m
kind of sick of this shirt.”

Of course she had spares – didn’t everyone? Nothing
was worse than running into a Steesprug demon – the
ones who spewed mucous and spit as soon as you got
within a few feet of them – on your way to the movies
and having nothing to change into. Easy question.

Well, mostly easy; they were Angel’s clothes after
all. She supposed it was lucky they were even still
in the car, though she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t sent
them back to L.A. yet; maybe because she hadn’t quite
been willing to admit that she was really living on
the other side of the country now. Until a few weeks
ago, she hadn’t really been sure she wanted to stay.

Walking around to the back of her car, she pulled the
key out from under the bumper and unlocked the trunk,
reaching in and pulling out a gym bag.

Riley obviously wasn’t at all surprised that the
clothes inside it weren’t hers; he hadn’t been asking
because he was just dying to wear her fuzzy pink
sweater.

She closed the trunk and leaned back against it as
Riley looked around, probably trying to find a better
place to change. Given that they were one of only a
few cars in a fairly large parking lot at the edge of
a huge expanse of tarmac in the middle of the night,
he came to the conclusion that this was as good a
place as any. Still, he hesitated before beginning to
undress.

There was no one around, and it wasn’t as though he’d
be showing her anything she hadn’t already seen. So
why was he-?

No. Don’t look for problems. “You know, your clothes
don’t really look like you’ve been wearing them for
four days, so if you don’t want to change...”

Her words kind of trailed off towards the end because
she began to wonder why, exactly, his clothes didn’t
look more worn. A little battered, maybe; a tear or
two from the fight. Not, however, worn. “You
were...” There was a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“You were wearing clothes that whole time, weren’t
you?”

Geez, Buffy. Jealous shrew much? So maybe not so
fine with the Kasey having her hands all over him
thing.

However, whatever it was that was so unsettling to
him, that clearly wasn’t it.

“Pretty much,” he answered.

‘Pretty much?’ Not the unequivocal ‘yes’ she’d been
hoping for. From the way he smiled, though, it was
clear he wasn’t trying to hide anything from her. Not
in that sense at least. O.k., so then why was he
still just standing there?

Of course, she realized. The markings. The ones that
were about to make clear just exactly how close he and
Kasey had gotten.

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and looked
down. “I’m gonna find out sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, sounding like he was gearing
up to tell someone something really sad, in a ‘your
puppy’s been hit by a car’ kind of way.

She looked up to see him staring at her. Standing up,
she started to move away. “If you’d rather I-”

“No,” he replied. “I just...” He shook his head and
then, resigned, he pulled his shirt off, quickly
reaching for Angel’s sweater.

“Wait.” Buffy took a deep breath, reminding herself
that in any other situation, she’d find this
fascinating, this direct connection to a legendary
princess from ancient times. The key words, of
course, were ‘any,’ ‘other,’ and ‘situation.’

Even in the poorly lit parking lot, she could see that
the markings covered his arms and most of his chest;
that they dipped below his waistband.

File that one in the folder marked, ‘Ouch.’

She asked quietly, “How far?”

“I don’t actually know,” he answered, his voice
tightly controlled.

Fine. No time like the present to find out. She
nodded at him to continue, stepping forward as he
unbuttoned his pants. “The stripping part is usually
a lot more fun,” she muttered.

He wisely didn’t respond, nor did he make any attempt
to touch her as she reached her hand out. He flinched
– he actually flinched – when her thumb brushed his
skin, tugging a little at his boxers, her hand
lingering despite her head telling her that she was
fooling herself if she thought she’d ever have him.
That chance was lost to her a long time ago.

That Kasey hadn’t gotten much further brought only a
little bit of relief. Buffy wasn’t interested in
sharing, no matter what the circumstance. And
somehow, with Riley, there was always a circumstance.
So much for trust. “You let her.”

He spat her words back at her, each one punctuated by
sharp, tight movements as he pulled Angel’s sweater
over his head, pushed his arms through the sleeves.
“I didn’t let her do anything.” The ‘let’ was
particularly clipped.

Had she really thought she’d get the ‘happy ever
after’ ending? Seeing Riley in Angel’s sweater was a
slap in the face. A pop-up window saying: Did you
really think you could have it all? Buffy looked
away. “Was this before or after you knew she wasn’t
Sam?”

Something flashed over his face. Anger? Pain? All
he said, though, was, “Before.”

It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to say more. That
one word told Buffy all she needed to know. “Because
you would have let Sam do whatever she wanted.”

Exasperated, he said, “Well, yeah. Probably.”

Set yourself up for that one, didn’t you, Buff?
Ironic, that whole role reversal thing.

This would be that point in the conversation where you
took a minute to tell yourself that this was just the
stress talking, calling up the echo of your former
self. That you’re not even sure if you believe what
you’re saying but it’s so much a part of you – of you
and him – that you can’t quite let it go. That you
most definitely needed to step back and regroup before
saying something really stupid, like, “Does this count
as ‘evening the score’?”

“Evening what score?” It took Riley a second to catch
on. “You mean with Dracula? And...?” He looked down
at the sweater he was wearing, obviously realizing she
was talking about Angel. Forget exasperated. Now he
was downright pissed. “Are you serious? This is so
entirely not about that. This wasn’t even about us.
It was about-”

“Yes, I know,” Buffy snapped, with a lot more
bitterness than she had any right to have. “Sam.
Because everything is.” She was ‘home.’ She pretty
much always would be.

“Buffy...” There was obvious pain in his voice now.
Anguish, almost.

Too bad. You make your bed and you lie in it. You
choose to share it with someone else.

Biting her lip, Buffy turned quickly, before he could
see the tears in her eyes. “Let’s get you...” She
choked on the word, ‘home.’ She couldn’t quite say
that out loud. Without looking back, she walked to
the front of the car and got in.

A few minutes later – much longer than seemed
necessary to change into new clothes – she could hear
and feel the trunk as he slammed it down. She didn’t
turn when he got into the car. She just sat back and
closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said
that.”

“Yeah, well…” Riley fiddled with something on the car
door as he spoke. “Considering I screwed up my entire
life when confronted with a similar situation, I think
you can be forgiven.”

Her head still back against the seat, Buffy turned to
look at him. Though he may not have chosen the best
way to end things, he wouldn’t have gotten Sam
otherwise, wouldn’t have gotten his children.

Buffy’s smile was sad, thinking of the way things
might have been; what he’d managed to find while she
meandered – mostly aimlessly – through life. “You
made a nice recovery.”

Riley swallowed hard before gruffly answering, “Yeah,
I did.”

Not sure what else to say, Buffy leaned forward to
start the car. She was startled when he spoke.

“I kind of wish you were right.” He looked out the
window. “I kind of wish it were all about Sam because
then I’d have no reason to feel so Goddamned guilty
over how glad I am to be back home.”

Right, Buffy thought. Back home. She could take a
hint. “I know. You want to see your kids.” She
started to turn the key.

He unexpectedly grabbed her hand and pulled it away
from the ignition. Bending her arm gently, he kissed
the inside of her wrist. “Do you honestly think I’d
feel guilty if I were only talking about my kids?”

Her heart lodged in her throat as she felt the tears
spring to her eyes.

“The markings?” he said. “The ones she painted all
over me?” Though he let their hands fall away from
his mouth, he didn’t let go. “They tell my dreams.
What she saw through me.”

Buffy shifted so that she could see him. She knew
what he was about to say – but God, how she needed to
hear him say it.

He grinned. “Apparently, you figure quite
prominently.”

If it weren’t so dark, she had a feeling she’d be
seeing him turn a bright shade of pink. A beautiful
Northern Lights-evoking bright shade of pink.
“Prominently?”

Although he wouldn’t meet her eyes, his smile
broadened. “Possibly graphically.”

Buffy pulled her hand free of his grasp and let it
fall to his leg. “How graphically?”

He tried to shrug nonchalantly. That he couldn’t pull
it off was emphasized by his voice cracking as he
answered, “Very.” Although that might have had
something to do with the way she was trailing her
fingers up the inside of his thigh.

Buffy bit her lip. She knew he wanted to get home –
she wanted to get him home – and yet she couldn’t help
but lean forward and kiss him. And she might not
have been able to stop if he hadn’t done it for her,
pulling back and saying, “Buffy…”

“I know.” She quickly turned back to the steering
wheel. “That’s the last thing you’re thinking about.”

“Actually, no,” he answered with a smile in his voice.
“Not the last thing. It just happens to be taking a
backseat to the realization of why, exactly, you don’t
hear much about getting busy in the front seat of a
Mercedes convertible.” As he shifted uncomfortably,
he muttered, “Now, a Chevy pickup. That’s the kind of
car you can write songs about.”

Grinning, she turned back to him, and tilted her head
up as he bent down, brushing her lips. It was a full
minute before he pulled away again, saying, “O.k. Now
we can go.”

Understood.

By the time she pulled onto the highway, he was fast
asleep. He stayed that way the entire ride in to the
city, until the moment she pulled up in front of his
house.

Sitting up straight as the car rolled to a stop, Riley
reached for the door handle, hesitating a second
before taking a deep breath and opening it. He
stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him,
walking quickly to the front steps.

Um, o.k., she thought. She’d at least expected a
good-bye. But, hey, it had been a long few days. He
needed to see his family. She wasn’t going to stand
in his way.

She shifted the car into gear. “Call me tomorrow,”
she said, waving to him as he turned to look at her.
“Let me know when you’re-”

“Where are you going?” he asked, looking completely
perplexed.

“Home,” she answered as he came over.

He crouched down outside her window. “You’re not
coming in?”

Glancing at the front door, she shook her head. “Your
family needs to see you. This isn’t the time for
outsiders to barge in.”

“Yes.” He stood and opened her car door, looking at
her pointedly. “I know.”

She took a few seconds to think about what he'd just
said. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean…”
Shrugging, she pointed to the sign that was directly
in front of her car. The one that basically
threatened to take away your firstborn if you even
dared to park beneath it. Just to give him an out if
he was only doing this out of obligation.

Riley looked up at the sign and then back at her. “I
actually have some pull in government circles. I
could probably get your ticket taken care of.” His
smile came easily as he answered her original
question. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She looked up at the front door again, thinking that
the rest of the household might not feel the same way.
Still, she smiled. “O.k.”

Turning the key, she pulled it out of the ignition and
followed him as he walked up the steps. She was so
focused on convincing herself that, Yes, she belonged
here, that it took her a minute or two to notice that
they were standing there, not making any move to go
in. She turned to look at him and almost broke down
when she saw his face.

All traces of happiness were gone; he was obviously
fighting for composure. Noticing Buffy’s glance, he
looked away. “Sam would always... She always forgot
her keys when she was away on a trip. I always
figured she did it deliberately just so she could wake
everyone up at two in the morning and have an excuse
to eat ice cream. The kids...” His voice caught.
“They loved it.”

Without a second thought, Buffy’s hand went to his
arm.

“I hated it,” he continued. “I was always thinking
that one day it wouldn’t be her ringing the doorbell.
It would be someone else, telling me she wasn’t coming
back.” He closed his eyes. “Funny that the thing you
dread never happens quite the way you expect it to.
You never expect it to happen in the middle of a
normal day...”

“Riley...” Buffy put her arms around him and leaned
her head against his chest, hugging him tightly as he
struggled to breathe, probably being slammed by the
fact that he’d essentially been widowed all over
again. This was mourning, pure and simple; when every
little thing reminded you of how wrong things had
gone.

She looked up at him, and smiled sadly. “You have no
idea where your keys are, do you?”

Laughing through his tears, Riley shook his head. “No
fucking clue.”

Come to think of it, she didn’t either. Graham
probably had all Riley’s stuff. Or Brooks, maybe,
back in Quetico. “I think this once you’d be forgiven
for ringing the doorbell.”

“Yeah.” He pulled away from her and pressed the heels
of his hands against his eyes. After a deep breath,
he leaned forward and rang the bell.

Within seconds, the door swung open, and he
disappeared into a sea of bodies, into a sea of
yelling, screaming bodies, pulling him in.

After a moment’s hesitation, Buffy followed them in,
closing the door behind her.

It was like walking into a Norman Rockwell painting.
No, not like walking into it. That implied being part
of it. So maybe more like walking into a museum and
seeing the painting come to life in front of your
eyes.

‘Coming Home,’ the picture would be called – the four
beautiful children surrounding their father as he
clung to each of them in turn; as he gathered them
around him and didn’t let go – not for a good, long
time.

Not until Mary pushed her way through, unable to
resist any longer. Even Gavin, who didn’t seem like
an overly demonstrative man, finally got into it,
clinging to his son for several minutes before
mumbling something about promising to call Riley’s
brothers the second Riley stepped foot in the door.
From where Buffy stood, she watched Gavin walk slowly
down the hall, making it almost all the way to the
kitchen before stopping to lean against the wall,
trembling. He put his hand to his mouth and bowed his
head briefly before continuing on.

Buffy leaned against the door, obviously the outsider,
regardless of what Riley had said. She had to admit,
there was a part of her that thought about
unobtrusively slipping away. She looked behind her
for the door handle, just to make sure she knew where
it was.

When she turned back, though, she realized Annie was
standing in front of her.

The girl reached out tentatively, tearfully saying,
“This is...” She shook her head, smiling despite her
tears. “You brought him back. You really did it.”

Buffy looked down. “It wasn’t just-”

Annie’s arms were suddenly around her. Buffy returned
the hug awkwardly, still feeling very much the
interloper, the intruder in this perfectly contained
cocoon.

Until she felt Liam’s arms go around her, then Jack’s.
And it began to occur to her that she was holding
them as tightly as they held her.

No, not just that she was holding them, but that it
felt as though she was meant to. That it felt as
though she’d come home.

It seemed almost too soon when Mary’s voice rang out
loudly. “Two scoops each – no more, no less. Annie’s
in charge of hot fudge, Kate takes care of whipped
cream. And I decide how many cherries everyone gets.”
Her voice faded as she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up
with the management.”

It was like a tornado came through, taking Annie, Liam
and Jack with it as it left. The three kids followed
Mary down the hall in a whirlwind of energy and
laughter, leaving a contented silence in their wake.

Buffy looked up at Riley, unable to keep the smile off
her face. Even seeing the way Kate possessively held
on to Riley couldn’t dampen her mood, although – to be
honest – if Kate told her to go, Buffy wouldn’t fight
it. Not tonight. No matter what Riley said.

Except that Kate did nothing of the sort. Instead she
stepped forward and grinned. “If you become my
stepmother? This might never happen again. But…”
She threw her arms around Buffy, mumbling something
that sounded suspiciously like, “Thank you.”

Buffy was so stunned that it was an effort to keep
her mouth from dropping open. It didn’t help that
when she looked over Kate’s head – well, o.k., around
Kate’s head; the girl was already several inches
taller than Buffy – anyway, it didn’t help that when
she looked past Kate at Riley, he raised his arms
above his head and did a pitiful imitation of her ‘I
told you so’ dance as he worked his way down the hall.

A second later, Kate was gone, running after him,
leaving Buffy standing all by herself in the front
hallway. All by herself and yet not alone.

Annie stepped out into the hallway, asking Buffy what
kind of ice cream she wanted.

Buffy smiled and walked down the hall.

Not alone.



TBC...





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

__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Exclusive Video Premiere - Britney Spears
http://launch.yahoo.com/promos/britneyspears/