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 Fifty-One

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


This was why he’d come back. This was what it was all
about.

Riley leaned back against the kitchen counter and took
a huge gulp of coffee – scalding hot, extra cream,
extra sugar; just the way he liked it. He watched the
scene play out around him: his parents happily
bustling around the kitchen while the kids sat at the
table with Buffy, discussing the exact constitution of
a perfect ice cream sundae.

Jack was arguing for volume – the more stuff, the
better.

Annie shook her head. “It’s the ratio. The perfect
amount of hot fudge to the perfect amount of ice
cream.”

“Unh-uh,” Buffy countered, easily slipping into the
family dynamics regardless of what she’d said earlier.
“It’s all about the unexpected. The extra touch.”

“Like what?” Ah, Kate – ever the skeptic.

“Like…” Buffy hesitated a minute. Then she reached
into…

Well, Riley had no idea where she reached into –
wherever it was that she stowed things; somewhere in
the almost nonexistent folds of her
much-too-nicely-fitted-for-him-to-being-paying-attention-to-at-the-moment
shirt. When her hand reappeared, she was holding a
roll of wintergreen LifeSavers.

Taking two out, she placed them on the table and
grabbed a spoon, using it to crush them into dust.
Jack, of course, thought the sparks were the coolest
things ever, and his attempts to do some crushing of
his own were sad enough that his sisters took pity on
him, showing him he could just bite down hard for the
same effect.

They were so busy doing all this that they didn’t seem
to notice it was next to impossible to crush
LifeSavers into particles smaller than sand with your
hands and a spoon. Unless, that is, you happened to
be born with preternatural strength.

That was good at least. Though it was clear from the
whole Kate being prophetic thing that one of his kids
– at a minimum – knew far more than Riley was
comfortable with, he had no interest in them finding
out that Buffy also went by the name, ‘Slayer.’

Once the whole sparks excitement died down, Buffy
sprinkled the dust over the whipped cream and pushed
the sundae towards the center of the table. “See?”

Jack was the first to take a spoonful. He reluctantly
said, “Yeah, o.k. That’s pretty good. But I bet it
would be better if you had six times that amount of
ice cream.”

“Well, duh,” Buffy agreed, leaning over and ruffling
Jack’s hair, in the most natural way ever. As she sat
back in her chair, she looked up and grinned at Riley,
obviously realizing that her whole ‘outsider’ argument
was taking on water by the second and sinking fast.

Riley knew the smile he gave her back was pretty damn
big. He couldn’t help it. Although at no point
during the last four days did Riley ever think he was
dead, he had to admit that he felt more alive right
now than he had in years. Eight and a half years to
be exact. Eight and a half years of sleepwalking
through life, giving most of what he had to his kids,
saving the rest for work.

Part of the rejuvenation was thanks to Buffy – there
was no denying that. Part of it, maybe, but not all;
not the part that had to do with this unfamiliar
feeling of freedom. An unfamiliar feeling called
closure.

It was having the chance to say: I never should have
let you leave like that. I never should have let you
go.

It was telling Sam he loved her and kissing her
good-bye.

Without that, he probably wouldn’t be feeling the way
he did at the moment, surrounded by the people he
loved more than anyone else in this world: his kids,
his parents. Buffy.

Standing here, at this moment? It was like the sun
had broken through on a foggy day. Nothing but blue
skies ahead.

Even the fact that Kasey’s drawings didn’t seem to
want to come off – despite the five minutes Riley had
just spent in the bathroom going at them with just
about everything he could think of – did nothing to
dampen this feeling. His entire forearm was rubbed
raw, unfortunately, but – this incredible feeling?
Still there.

Not that there wouldn’t be clouds up ahead. There was
absolutely no doubt in Riley’s mind that life from
here on in wasn’t going to be as rosy as it currently
appeared. At the very least, there would be blinding
moments of panic. The sudden lack of air.
Nightmares, too.

And Riley was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who’d
have his moments – it was obvious in the prolonged
looks coming from across the room where his mom stood;
and from the way his dad hadn’t moved much further
than arm’s reach in the twenty minutes that they’d
been standing here. Even Buffy – the epitome of
non-clinginess – kept finding reasons to make her way
over to where Riley stood by the fridge, reasons to
let her hand linger on his arm.

The kids? Once they’d gotten beyond the tearful
greetings, they seemed to be just fine, completely
over the fact that they’d been orphaned, if only for a
few days. They were all happily eating their ice
cream, chattering away.

The question, of course, was whether it would last.
Riley was thinking probably not. He had a feeling
Jack would be having an even harder time with
good-byes; Annie would probably become too much of the
caretaker.

Liam was harder to peg down. In the looks department,
it was clearly like father/like son. Riley was hoping
that wouldn’t be the case on the emotional front; that
Liam wouldn’t go with the crash and burn option that
Riley seemed to have excelled at.

Then there was Kate.

Kate would take it to the other extreme, exuding
attitude like there was no tomorrow. She’d already
started in with a few snarky comments about the
markings peeking out from under Riley’s – now rolled
down – sleeves.

‘Why exactly am I not allowed to get henna tattoos,
but you come home with them all over your arms?’

Never mind that Kasey’s drawings were not henna
tattoos by any means, or that Riley was nowhere close
to conceding that he’d denied her the chance in the
first place.

Riley wasn’t going to rise to the bait, however; he
wasn’t going to let it bother him. This was the time
to be grateful for the good things – like making it
back from the dead. Like making it back from the dead
after making a pretty high placed friend, at least if
Buffy were to be believed.

He took another sip of coffee. Right now, he wanted
to get back to the bliss. Back to the sheer
perfection of this moment. Back to the absolute-

“What?” he asked sharply, hoping he didn’t just hear
his mother say what he thought he’d heard her say.
Hoping desperately that if he really had just heard
the words ‘Angel’ and ‘Christmas’ in the same sentence
it was because his mom was deciding that it was never
too early to think about getting a new gauzy doll-like
thing for the top of the tree.

“I said,” she repeated, “we’ll have to let Angel know
that the invitation for Christmas still stands.”

No, unfortunately. She had actually said what Riley
thought she’d just said. He only just barely managed
not to choke on his coffee.

Buffy wasn’t so fortunate. The napkin she delicately
put to her lips did nothing to hide the fact that
she’d just spewed whipped cream. “Christmas?” she
said weakly. “Angel?”

Or, Riley thought, more to the point – “You invited
Angel for Christmas when you were planning my
funeral?”

Mom’s ‘I wasn’t put on this earth to suffer fools’
look which, when combined with her ‘did I not teach
you to be hospitable?’ look, did nothing to make Riley
any happier.

She glared pointedly at him. “Forgive me for wanting
to dwell on the family we had left rather than who
we’d be missing.”

“On the fam-?” Riley shut his mouth almost as soon as
he opened it. Smiling, he said, “You mean Buffy?” He
looked at Buffy to see if she’d heard what his mother
just said.

She had. She seemed kind of stunned despite him
already telling her as much. There was a great smile
on her face, though – such a great smile. One that
just shouted out the warm and happy.

Actually, he was mostly feeling the same way himself,
even if it did mean enforced quality time with Angel.
And, since this was the kind of bubble that burst
fairly quickly, Riley was just going to go with it.

Good thing, because it lasted exactly 3.7 seconds,
ending in a huge splat on the proverbial pavement when
Jack finished whatever it was he’d just been saying
about Angel with, “…so we’d have to have our snowball
fight at night – o.k., Grandma?”

Riley looked up quickly to see Kate knock the side of
Jack’s head, something she would normally have gotten
into trouble for.

Normally.

“What did you just say?” Riley asked. He was not at
all pleased to see Jack turning bright red while the
three other kids looked at Buffy, somewhat pleadingly.


Why were they looking at Buffy?

Buffy didn’t seem to be surprised by this. In fact,
there was an interesting dynamic occurring at the
kitchen table – the kids sinking back in their chairs
while Buffy leaned a bit forward, the mother hen.

Riley put his cup down on the counter behind him.

Benefit of the doubt. Let’s start with that. Riley
said to Jack, “What was that about the snowball
fight?” He couldn’t help but turn to Buffy. “Why
exactly does it have to happen at night?”

Jack made a not so good attempt at backpedaling.
“Angel, um… He, um… He can’t-”

“He likes to sleep late,” Kate cut in. She got to her
feet and started gathering up ice cream dishes –
clanking them together loudly enough that it was hard
to hear her mumble, “He’s not a morning person.”

Did Kate honestly think that professing knowledge of
Angel’s sleeping habits would help?

There was a sudden flurry of activity as – at once –
Annie, Liam, and Jack stood, following Kate’s lead of
clearing off the table. Since when did any of them
care about doing their own dishes?

Mom and Dad were in on it, too, busily cleaning up the
kitchen – the kitchen, by the way, that was nearly
immaculate given Mom’s penchant for cleaning when she
was upset.

This, of course, had nothing to do with ‘upset’
cleaning. This was
make-as-much-noise-as-possible-because-it’s-way-too-late-to-be-having-this-discu\
ssion
cleaning.

So what if it was late. This was much too important
to let go.

Did his kids seriously know that vampires existed?
That Angel was one? Riley looked over to Buffy, the
only person in the room who was going about things in
a calm, matter-of-fact kind of way.

She was standing slowly, watching him as she brought
her dish to the sink and handed it to Riley’s dad.
There was a guarded look on her face – the kind of
look that Riley knew all too well from wearing it
himself on countless occasions. Mostly it was the
mask you wore when gauging how much to tell the
hapless person standing in front of you something that
was about to rock their world.

“I am not hapless,” Riley snapped as Buffy came over.

She put her arms around him and smiled, completely
ignoring his annoyance – which was exactly what Riley
would do in the same situation. Had done, in fact,
time and time again, telling civilians things they
really didn’t want to hear. This wasn’t really much
different. Except for the arms around them part, of
course. Oh – and that he was on the complete wrong
end of this conversation.

With those notable exceptions, however, this was
standard operating procedure. Diffuse the situation,
let the other guy think he had some control over what
was happening, and ignore any personal considerations
that might cloud things up. Buffy was doing a stand
up job, especially given that Riley was absolutely
sure she was just as unhappy with the
Angel/Christmas/Here scenario as Riley was.

Although, if Mom invited Angel then that probably also
meant – “You’ll be here for Christmas?” Riley asked, a
grin finding its way to his face as he looked down.

Buffy shrugged in a carefree, content kind of way. “I
was thinking yes. I mean, if that’s o.k. with you.”

Was she crazy? “Of course it’s o.k. with me. As long
as you don’t mind the whole Iowa contingent.” As in
brothers, wives, kids. Lots of them.

“Kind of Norman Rockwell-ish?” she said.

When Riley nodded, her eyes filled with tears and she
looked away, saying, “No. I don’t mind. I don’t mind
at all.”

Riley caught himself just before he bent down to kiss
her. He reminded himself that he was standing in the
middle of his kitchen. Surrounded by his kids and
parents, in fact, all of whom – though actively
pretending otherwise – were completely focused on him
and Buffy. So – probably not a good time for a lip
lock.

Plus, he was in the middle of being supremely
irritated. And no one had answered any of his
questions yet. Like – how would his kids possibly
know anything about the fact that Angel and daylight
didn’t go together? Or, more importantly, when in the
fucking hell did they meet Angel in the first place?

Breathe. Just breathe. Just calmly look down at
Buffy and say, “Angel was here?” In this house?
“Being…” What was the word Buffy had used back at the
Base? “…Intense?”

Buffy looked uncomfortable. Her arms dropped and she
pulled away.

Highly aware of the attention still on them, as evenly
as possible he said, “So that thing you were
mentioning earlier?” As in that almost getting
horizontal with Angel thing, which Riley was fairly
certain he didn’t have to clarify. “That was here?”

Not that he even had a right to ask, considering.

As Buffy wasted no time in reminding him. She walked
towards the sink and snapped, “Remember that leg you
didn’t have to stand on in Quetico? I haven’t exactly
seen any miraculous regeneration.”

Right. Back to the kids then, who immediately
returned to whatever it was they were doing – putting
ice cream away, wiping the table, sweeping the floor,
for God’s sake – as soon as he looked up at them.

O.k. Fine. Riley wasn’t above interrogating his
family. With a glance at Buffy, Riley said to them,
“So... Angel.”

Free association. Go.

Folding his arms across his chest, Riley leaned back
against the counter, trying to distinguish the
individual words as almost everyone spoke at once.

Dad: “That man certainly likes black.”
Annie: “Are you wearing his clothes, Daddy?”
Liam: “He was kind of cool.”
Mom: “Such a sweet boy.”

Decidedly ignoring the ‘kind of cool’ and ‘sweet boy,’
Riley focused on the remaining two comments, the ones
that stood out instead: Jack’s “I swear I don’t know
how to read your email” and Kate’s “At least Buffy was
honest with us.” Both of which made it clear that
Riley had not been imagining that his kids knew more
than they let on.

Turning to the refrigerator, Riley opened the door.
Forget coffee; he needed a beer. Grabbing one, he
took his time opening it. This was an unusual
situation to say the least. His entire family – Mom
and Dad included – were eyeing him with complete
apprehension. At the same time, they seemed to be
looking to Buffy as their leader, as the one who would
speak for them; who would stand up to their oppressor
– i.e., Riley – and fight him to the death if need be.

Riley took a long swig of beer.

All right. That was obviously taking it to the
extreme. However – that whole thing about wanting
Buffy to be a part of his family? This was not at all
what he’d meant.

Buffy didn’t play around. She knew as well as he did
that they’d moved well past the
put-her-arms-around-him-and-bat-her-eyelashes stage,
and were smack dab in the middle of the
Riley-your-kids-aren’t-quite-as-innocent-as-you-thought-they-were
one.

Taking another drink, Riley looked at his parents.
“You, too?”

Dad’s arms went around Mom’s shoulders as he said,
“We’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

Great.

Turning to Kate, Riley asked, “Josh and Mitch?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Fucking fantastic.

As if he really needed one more thing to think about.
It was hard to keep from slamming his bottle on the
counter as he put it down.

There were enough things for them to occupy their
minds with; he hadn’t wanted them to worry about the –
sometimes literal – monsters hiding in their closet.
Even way back before he’d even contemplated having
kids of his own, he’d wondered how Joyce had done it;
how she’d reconciled her hardwired parental instincts
– the fundamental truth that it was your job to
protect your kids – with the fact that her daughter
was the-

Riley’s head jerked up, his eyes drawn directly to
Annie and Kate.

No. He would have known if they were slayers-to-be.
There would have been signs by now. Still, he had to
look over at Buffy and say, “They’re not...?”

“No,” she responded, knowing exactly what he was
thinking.

Thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Or
Joe. Whatever.

And he supposed there was another positive note – this
did put an end to the question of when to begin
teaching the kids about the harsher realities of life,
something he’d been dreading more and more as they
grew older.

Well, hell. Buffy and Willow and Xander had learned
at fifteen.

Riley said, “They start training tomorrow.”

Buffy smiled and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

Damn straight.

If it weren’t four in the morning, Riley would already
be on the phone to Pete telling him to get the gym
ready for a bunch of kids and two senior citizens.
Now, however, it was time for bed. They all looked
exhausted, and Riley was too emotionally spent to
handle anything more. Like, for example, what exactly
Jack had meant about reading Riley’s email or the
particular circumstances of Angel’s visit. Those
would be dealt with later.

After hugs and kisses all around, Riley watched them –
kids, parents – file out of the kitchen. Only Annie
and Kate lingered; Kate remaining in the doorway while
Annie came back to Riley for a second hug, one that
involved a fair amount of tears; tears, however, that
were gone fairly quickly.

Pulling away, she wiped her eyes. She smiled, though,
and said, “Don’t worry about us. We’re not scared.
We know you and Uncle Graham won’t let anything happen
to us.” With a sly glance at Buffy, she added, “Just
the way we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Right, Riley thought, looking at Buffy and wondering
what it was that had so obviously gone on between her
and them. Given everything that had been said, it
wasn’t too hard to figure out that it at least
involved Kate’s dreams. Dreams which had led to a
conversation with Buffy, one substantial enough to
explain Kate’s statement that ‘at least Buffy was
honest’ with them.

A sullen, surly statement, by the way, which, when
deconstructed, had almost too many layers to count.
Take the first three words for example. ‘Buffy’ =
‘the woman you’ve chosen to take Mom’s place and
therefore upset the balance of my whole universe.’
‘At least’ = ‘said woman had the balls to tell us the
truth, a truth you thought we were too young to
handle. Instead, you chose to lie to us our entire
lives. Not to mention that you never taught us how to
protect ourselves from all the bogeymen who are out
there in the night.’

Except for that little bit at the end, maybe. That
was probably his guilt talking.

Riley’s eyes went to where Kate stood. He sighed
inwardly, thinking that this was only the beginning.
Hell, he’d heard the stories of Sam back in the day.

No. Put that differently: He’d heard the hellish
stories of Sam back in the day.

He didn’t need hints from up on high that Kate was
going to be trouble. Her grin did nothing to convince
him otherwise, though he couldn’t help but return it.
Riley felt for his ring, twisting it with his thumb.
It did not escape him that some of the things he had
loved most about Sam – like, for example, her total
contempt for rules and authority – were the exact
things that were going to make the next few years with
Kate go down in the Teenager Hall of Fame.

“Good night, Daddy,” Annie gave Riley a quick kiss on
the cheek. “I love you.” On her way out of the
kitchen, she made sure to stop and give Buffy a hug,
saying, “We decided that you get to pick what we have
for breakfast – pancakes or French toast.”

“I...” Buffy looked up at Riley guiltily; a little
flustered. “I wasn’t, um...”

“It’s o.k.,” Kate said as Annie joined her in the
doorway. “I’m sure my dad has his own supply of
condoms. No worries.”

Kate smiled and ducked as Annie hit her on the
shoulder, Annie looking back at Buffy apologetically.
With that, the two of them ran down the hallway and
clomped up the stairs.

Riley closed his eyes and finished the beer. Damn if
he didn’t need another one already. He supposed he
should at least be grateful that the conversation
hadn’t been detailed enough that they knew condoms
were no longer the birth control method of choice. By
the time he opened his eyes, the blush had faded from
Buffy’s face. He wasn’t sure he could say the same
for himself.

Walking past Buffy to the sink, he rinsed the bottle
and asked over his shoulder, “Was there anything you
didn’t cover? Did you and Willow decide to teach them
all about magic, too?”

He tried to keep from sounding harsh. He didn’t quite
manage, though – apparently he was wound a little
tighter than he’d thought.

Buffy seemed to be in a generous mood, however. “They
came to me.” She was clearly cutting him some slack,
coming to him and wrapping her arms around his waist
from behind, leaning her head against his back.
“Besides, it was your daughter who had the dreams.”

Turning to face her, he said, “Dreams you are going to
tell me about, right?”

She grinned as she looked up at him. “You wish.”

Why was he not surprised by that answer?

Actually, he kind of liked that she didn’t tell him.
In the long run, that would probably bode well for her
and Kate.

Kissing his neck, she murmured, “You shouldn’t be
surprised if they ask about Sam, though.”

“Sam?” Riley asked, straightening up. He took a few
steps past her and leaned against the island,
unconsciously glancing at the doorway where Kate had
just been standing. Thank you for following Kate’s
dreams, Sam had said. “She came to them? That was
Kate’s dream?”

Buffy didn’t answer. Instead, she gave him a long
look and said, “It’s just going to take a while to get
used to it.”

“It will not take a while to get used to it,” he
snapped, for no earthly reason other than he’d just
had a major ‘kitteny’ flashback.

Of course this would take a while to get used to. How
could it not?

Apart from finding out that Kate was in touch with her
mother through her prophetic dreams? Gee. Let’s see.

In the last twenty-four hours he’d found out that his
kids had not only met Angel but they knew he was a
vampire. Knew, in fact, that vampires existed, which
of course led Riley to wonder what else they weren’t
telling him.

They’d apparently had some kind of interaction with
Buffy that had the majority of his family lining up
behind her. And let’s just throw in the fact that
some fundamental beliefs he’d had for, oh, forty
years, had essentially been shot to hell when he’d
held his dead wife in his arms in front of someone who
may or may not have been God.

Perhaps the most disturbing of all – a mere three
weeks after meeting her for the first time, Kate had
just given Buffy her blessing albeit in an obnoxious,
fourteen-year-old kind of way.

“Sorry,” Riley said quietly. “It’s just a bit of an
adjustment.”

It looked like there were a million things running
through Buffy’s head – one of them very possibly
being, Yes, that’s what I just said, Doofus. All she
actually verbalized, though, was, “That sleeping thing
you don’t have going on? It probably isn’t going to
get much better.”

Considering he hadn’t even been back for a full day,
he wasn’t sure he could say with any certainty, but,
“No,” he replied. “Probably not.”

There were a few moments of silence. When she finally
spoke, it was with a smile in her voice. “Then maybe
we should get busy with the not sleeping.” Quietly,
she added, “I mean, if you want…”

Well that was a ridiculous statement. Even at
completely inappropriate times, like, for example,
when he realized he might not actually be able to
choose between his new/old girlfriend and his
newly-returned-from-the-dead wife – his living,
breathing non-dead wife... Even at completely
inappropriate times there was no question.

He reached out for Buffy’s hand and pulled her flush
against him, gruffly answering, “Yes, I want.”

All the tension? All the things fighting for
attention in his head?

Gone. Completely faded away the second he held her in
his arms. She was the one thing he was sure of right
now. The only thing in his life that didn’t have a
warning flag attached to it. Kind of ironic
considering it had been pretty much the complete
opposite for most of the last sixteen years.

She smiled and looked up at him, ran her hands up
underneath his – or Angel’s, rather – sweater; kissed
him as her fingers trailed up his chest.

As enticing as this was, he pulled her hands away,
stopping her. “Wait.” He didn’t want to do this in
the kitchen. He wanted to make love to her properly –
in his bed. He wanted to wake up next to her and do
it all over again. “Upstairs.”

Her eyes went to the doorway. “I...” She pulled
back. “That’s o.k.?”

Why did she keep asking him things like that?

Riley nodded his head. Damn right it was o.k. Hell,
if his kids could handle the whole vampire thing with
such obvious aplomb, they could certainly manage the
fact that he and Buffy were sleeping together; which,
incidentally, they’d obviously figured out anyway.
Besides, that breakfast thing hadn’t just been tossed
out lightly – there was a good twenty to thirty minute
discussion behind Annie’s statement.

Buffy seemed to accept that as an answer. At least
she didn’t hesitate when he held his hand out and led
her into the hall and up the stairs. When they got to
his room, he closed the door and locked it behind them
– his kids were past the barging in stage, but he
wasn’t taking any chances.

He turned to see Buffy look around the room
with…trepidation? Her eyes came to a rest on the open
closet door and her face fell. She wrapped her arms
around herself as though she’d suddenly gotten very
cold, then briskly turned her back and walked over to
the window.

Kind of an odd reaction to a closet. Riley looked
through the open doorway to see a couple of t-shirts
on the floor, a sweatshirt rolled up in the corner –
things he hadn’t left there. Things he knew without
doubt that he hadn’t left there, given his practice of
not ever leaving anything out when he was away on a
trip. That was the kind of detail you were sure
about. Especially after not entering your bedroom for
the four months following your wife’s death because
you couldn’t bear to see the things she’d left strewn
about.

Walking over to the closet, he closed the door. Not
just for Buffy’s sake, he had to admit. He had no
idea where she and Angel hadn’t done whatever it was
they hadn’t done, but the huge closet was as likely a
place as any and Riley had no interest in thinking
about that right now.

Riley turned around to see Buffy still staring out the
window looking contemplative. Not in a good way. She
bent down to turn on the lamp that rested by the bed.

He couldn’t exactly blame her. It did feel kind of
strange to be here with Buffy in his and Sam’s room.
“Is it just me, or is it weird to have you standing by
the bed I shared with Sam while I’m standing here in
Angel’s clothes?”

Buffy grinned. “Don’t forget the part about you being
covered in Miss Butterfly Queen’s drawings.” The
smile left her eyes quickly, though, replaced by an
intense gaze – one much too intense for comfort. Kind
of like she was reading his mind.

Except that reading his mind wasn’t really necessary.
She’d been there; she didn’t need the recap.

Her eyes went to the floor. “You kissed Sam.”

Case in point.

Now, see, Ri? That’s what happens when you turn down
kitchen sex. It was kind of like waking a sleeping
baby: just plain dumb.

He leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling very
tired. Not helped at all by the whole guilt thing
that was going on.

Forget the part about not being honest with the kids,
although, this finally explained why they humored him
when he would harp about never – ever – inviting
anyone in unless they had the o.k. from him first.
He’d always wondered why they didn’t give him more
shit about that. But anyway, the Buffy/Sam guilt
continuum? Don't even go there.

The one thing over which he didn’t feel guilt,
however? The one Goddamned, fucking thing he refused
– absolutely refused – to feel badly about? Those
moments with Sam. He would never regret that. Ever.

“It was good-bye,” he answered evenly. “Something I
didn’t get a chance to say before. Please don’t ask
me to apologize for that.”

Buffy seemed irritated by his response. “Of course
you don’t have to apologize. That’s not what I
meant.”

Um... O.k. then. Uh – never mind? “Then what’s the
problem?”

“I’ve...” Everything about her seemed to deflate, and
she sank to the bed, her hand tracing circles on the
blanket. “I’ve been there,” she answered sadly;
softly. “I’ve said good-bye.” Looking up as though
to drive home the point, she continued, “I lost three
months because of it.” Her voice cracked a little bit
at the end there.

When she died? She had time to say-?

No. Not then. She had to be talking about something
totally different. Angel? As far as Riley knew, that
was the only other time she’d lost actual months.

So, yeah - Angel. Who, as far as Riley was concerned,
didn’t really have much place in the current
conversation. Sure there was that whole undefined
Angel-being-here thing, and of course – as always –
the fact that Angel was, if indirectly, the reason
they’d fallen apart in the first place, but…

Damn it, Riley, you idiot: the reason they’d fallen
apart in the first place. Because when she’d said
good-bye to Angel, she’d left the world behind.

It wasn’t even so much about what she had lost, it was
about what she had found: a place she didn’t ever want
to go to again. A place where she’d have to put
herself on the line again; where she’d actually have
to invest in something.

That moment broke more than just her heart – it
tainted how she dealt with every one and every thing;
it tainted her whole being.

Maybe he was reading too much into this. Maybe she
was just trying to be sympathetic.

But maybe – just maybe – she was thinking that if it
had taken her years to recover from her own good-bye,
years in which Riley wasn’t the only one who had come
and gone... Well, it might just be that she was
sitting over there wondering exactly how long he was
going to need to process this. How long it would take
him to get to where he could get past Sam and think
about the future again. How long before he’d be able
to even think about putting himself out there again –
with her.

It was probably inconceivable to her that the last
thing he wanted to do right now was run; that, in
fact, all he wanted to do was hunker down and keep her
close, keep her right where he could find her when the
inevitable nightmares returned.

After all, she never had been so good on the whole
concept of getting through things together. It had
never been her way.

It almost got you again, Ri: you always fall for the
Slayer’s act; you always forget about the woman
underneath.

Riley walked across to the bed and sat down next to
her.

She looked up at him. “You just saw Sam,” she said,
her eyes filling with tears, which, despite
understanding where it came from, still boggled
Riley’s mind. “How could you possibly want to be
with-?”

‘Be with me,’ she was about to say. Except that he
didn’t give her the chance. He pulled her to him and
cut her off with a kiss. The better question was: how
could he possibly not want to?

She pulled back a little, saying, “Riley...” She was
shaking her head. “You-”

“I don’t do this like you do, Buffy. I don’t want to
be alone.” He brushed a strand of hair off her face.
“I’m sorry I ever made you doubt how much I love you.”

The words hung in the air, and, for a moment, she
didn’t respond. Then something that sounded
suspiciously like a sob escaped her throat. She
ducked her head as the tears spilled over. When she
looked back up, though, she was smiling. “Likewise,”
she whispered.

In a blur of motion, she was suddenly in his lap – her
arms thrown around his neck, her face buried in his
chest, murmuring, “If you ever leave me again, I think
I might have to hurt you.”

Or, at least that’s what he thought she said – the
words were muffled by virtue of being spoken directly
into the sweater he was wearing.

Riley put his arms around her and held on, glad that
something finally felt right, glad that he could
finally breathe.

Not that he really wanted to be breathing at the
moment. There’d be time for that later. First he
just wanted to kiss her – gently, tenderly; he wanted
to just get lost in the sweetness of her lips.

She pulled back and looked up at him, a smile
appearing in her eyes. “I don’t think I want you to
be in Angel’s clothes anymore.”

Frankly, Riley didn’t want to be in Angel’s clothes
anymore either. For several reasons, actually. There
was only one he was willing to dwell on right now,
however: how much he wanted to be naked. “That makes
two of us.” He reached over with the intention of
switching off the light.

“Riley – wait,” she said sharply, her hand going to
his waist.

His sweater had pulled up a little, baring his skin.
He couldn’t see what she was looking at, though. Not
from the way he was sitting.

“What?” he asked warily, really hoping that whatever
images Kasey had used to depict his dreams weren’t
nearly as, um, descriptive as the dreams themselves.
That would be really fun to explain to the kids. No,
Kate – that’s not Buffy and me having sex on the
beach, that’s the one where we were in the shower.

God, he hoped he could figure out a way to get these
things off.

She was pushing aside the sweater, scrutinizing his
skin in a way that could only be described as, well,
scrutinizing. Then she lifted his sweater up over his
head.

Damn.

The markings were gone. No ‘beginning’ symbol, no
end; nothing in between. Not a trace of ink to be
seen on his arms or his chest; or at least, not a
trace that hadn’t been there before he’d gotten to
Kasey’s lair.

Not that he missed them or anything – hell no; it was
just that it seemed weird given their presence less
than an hour ago; or, to be more exact, given that
he’d tried to scrub them off without any luck less
than an hour ago. Riley didn’t like things that
didn’t make sense. He’d never asked a lot of
questions, as Buffy well knew. It was just that there
needed to be some logic going on; an order of sorts.
Markings disappearing at the exact moment he and Buffy
were about to, um, reconnect just didn’t feel right.

On the other hand, Buffy – who considered it a
fundamental responsibility to ensure that no query was
left unturned – didn’t seem to care. She smiled in a
wicked kind of way. “Good. Now you’re my canvas. A
clean slate all for me.” She leaned forward, letting
her fingers trace their own designs on his chest.
“I’d rather tell my own story.”

Fuck logic, he thought, lying back on the bed as she
did exactly that, the tip of her tongue telling some
of the better tales he’d heard in recent memory. That
was a damn good one, that one right there, heading
south along his abs; and – hell, yeah – not a bad
follow-up, skimming along his waist, tugging at the
button on his-

“Hey,” he said, her mouth having suddenly broken its
contact with his skin. “I was thinking that was
heading towards a good ending.”

Actually, never mind. The way she was sitting right
now, straddling his waist? That was just fine by him.
She had a way of applying pressure in all the right
places. And as she straightened up, she certainly
knew what she was doing, arching her back in a very
deliberate way and pulling the top over her head.

Now that was the kind of beauty you just had to sit
back – lie back – and appreciate for a minute.

No – better yet – the kind of beauty you had to take
an active part in, sitting yourself up and pulling her
close. You had to lean in and run your mouth over the
top of her shoulder – not even kissing her; just
feeling how smooth her skin felt as you brushed it
with your lips.

You had to take your hand and let it trace the curve
of her neck; let it travel down the length of the
chain she wore and play with the cross getting caught
up in the lace of her bra. The cross and the ring,
rather.

Riley pulled back.

The cross and a ring that looked a hell of a lot like
his own. He instinctively felt for his ring with his
thumb. Not there.

Trailing kisses along his jaw, Buffy murmured,
“Where’d you go?” He could hear the pout in her voice
as she reached for his hand. Then her lips curved
into what he was almost positive was a smirk. “What –
now that you’ve been in the presence of God you’re not
feeling too happy with the cross between my-”

She cut off abruptly and straightened up, her hand
going to her chest as her eyes went down.

Exactly.

He reached out for the chain. The one she’d forcibly
yanked off her neck while making her case to, uh,
whomever. “Didn’t you break this?”

She said, “You mean, right before I put your ring back
on your finger?” Watching as he turned the cross and
ring over in his hand, she nodded. “That’s how I
remember it.”

O.k. Markings disappearing – that was one thing.
Maybe they were on a time delay of some sort. Maybe
after, well, however many hours it had been since
they’d left wherever exactly it was, Kasey’s dye hit
non-colorscape air and evaporated into nothingness.

A chain being put back together and re-hung around her
neck? With the ring that had been on his finger as
recently as ten minutes ago? Without either of them
noticing until now? There was definitely something
more going on.

Remembering the words she’d used when making her case
to Joe, Riley asked, “What did you mean when you said
you got the ring from Sam?”

Buffy’s eyes went blank, as though she were
deliberately choosing not to respond to that question,
which, in itself, made absolutely no sense. At this
point he couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t elaborate –
Sam played an obvious role in all this; it wasn’t like
her name couldn’t be mentioned. So, unless there was
some as of yet undiscovered reason Buffy was
protecting Sa-

No. Not Sam. Kate.

“Kate’s dream.” Well, at least some things were
beginning to fall into place, if in a twisted kind of
way. “Sam told Kate about the ring.” The ring that
had been found on the body that wasn’t Riley’s. “That
you needed to get it back to me.”

There was a moment of hesitation before she said,
“Close enough.” She reached behind her head and
unclasped the chain, letting go so that the ends fell
to Riley’s lap as he still held the cross and ring in
his hands. She mumbled, “There you go. Back where it
belongs.”

No. Unh-uh. No fucking way in hell. Even if it
meant not ever knowing why the markings were gone, or
why the chain was unbroken, or why he wasn’t wearing
his wedding ring – so be it. This cycle ended now;
they were simply not going there again.

Leaning over, he put the chain and all its
accompaniments on the bedside table. He straightened
back up and held out his hands. “See? No ring, no
markings. Like you said – a clean slate. Just you
and me.”

“A clean slate,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
After a moment’s hesitation, she reached for his right
hand, holding it in a way that indicated she was
either about to demonstrate her prowess at arm
wrestling or – the option he preferred – about to
guide his hand somewhere along her body. “A new
beginning.”

Riley was all set to wholeheartedly agree except that
his attention was drawn to their hands. Actually, his
attention was drawn to the image that had suddenly
appeared there, splayed across their fingers. A
symbol, really. ‘In the beginning,’ if memory served.


The mark didn’t seem to want to stay where it was, it
wanted to move around: flashing on the back of his
hand, flitting halfway down her arm. No – it really
wanted to move around: skipping along the curve of her
shoulder, up to her wrist. Disappearing from her
hand, reappearing a moment later on Riley’s arm.

One symbol became five, then ten, flickering on then
off Riley’s palm, swirling in and around Buffy’s hair.
Twenty, thirty, fifty – a shotgun blast.

Buffy put her hand to Riley’s chest. For an instant,
the markings vanished, only to be replaced almost
immediately by a series of new symbols. The tiny,
intricate images radiated outward from the tips of her
fingers and consumed every inch of their skin. A tide
of text rolling in. Data scrolling by as fast as the
eye could see.

Almost as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“What was that?” Buffy asked. She pulled her hand
away and held it up in front of her face, examining it
for traces of ink.

Now that was a good question. But he was thinking he
might have the answer.

The markings that tethered him to the life he’d had
before. Angel’s cross and Sam’s ring. All whisked
away by an unseen hand. An unseen hand that could pen
thousands of symbols in the blink of an eye, starting
with the most basic – ‘in the beginning.’

“A message,” Riley said, having no doubt of its
translation, albeit not the actual details. A record
of their history. The stories yet to come. “And I’m
hearing it loud and clear.”

Reaching past her to turn out the light, he felt her
shift as she lay back on the bed. She sighed and
closed her eyes when he started to kiss her. Started
at the beginning – every inch of her yet to be mapped,
every ounce of her yet to be savored.

As he moved over her, she reached out to stop him.
“Um, Riley?” she whispered, breathing in sharply when
his teeth grazed the hollow of her neck.

“Mmm?” he answered distractedly.

“There’s…um…” Her hand clutched the back of his neck.
“…One more…thing.”

Her words came haltingly, since, at the moment, he
also happened to be cupping her breast. Put that
together with the kissing her neck thing and, well,
that was one of her preferred combinations.

“I’m listening.” Although he wasn’t really; not when
he was concentrating on undoing the button of her
pants.

She seemed to be concentrating on it, too, lifting her
hips as he eased the fabric away. Her breath caught
when he brought his hand up along the inside of her
thigh. It made her that much harder to hear when she
– kind of gaspingly – said, “It turns out…your kids
can hear…a lot of what goes on around…here.”

He stopped abruptly and pulled his hand away. Without
even realizing it, he glanced back over his shoulder,
even though he knew they were all in another part of
the house entirely. “They can…?”

No – you know what? Fuck it. There was really only
so much you could do.

Putting his mouth back to her neck, he let his hand
fall back into place. “Then don’t scream.”



End Chapter 51

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

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