Riley spent the next hour lying on the ground watching the fireworks. Or at least, he was pretty sure that that’s what he’d been doing – when he looked at his watch, it showed that an hour had passed since the fireworks started, and, since they were still going, he figured he’d been watching them that whole time.

He’d actually been concentrating on not watching Buffy. Every cell in his body was screaming to just turn his head and stare hard – to see if her eyes still grew dark and deep when you got up close, or if the skin at the nape of her neck was still the same golden brown.

Not touching her, of course, was key. Staying far enough away from her that the possibility wasn’t even there.

That almost kissing thing back at the store? That hadn’t been real. Completely unreal.

As was her actually being alive. He’d always tried to tell himself that she’d been able to survive; deep down, though, he’d never believed it. Not for about ten years, now.

Well, nine, to be exact – nine years ago when he’d been in L.A. and had decided to make a side trip to Sunnydale on a whim. He had stopped by her house, only to find it empty, a ‘for sale’ sign on the front lawn.

He’d tried to find out what happened – he had spent an hour on campus trying to track down Willow to no avail, then ran into more dead ends at Xander’s apartment and Xander’s parents’ house – no one home. Even the magic shop held no answers; the woman working at the counter said Anya wasn’t there and refused to tell him anything else. Couldn’t really blame her – they probably got some weird people coming in. He finally went to Willy’s, but all Willy had been able to tell him was that the Slayer had left town.

A few years later he’d made a half-hearted attempt to track her down again. A search on her name hadn’t turned up anything, though, and he assumed the job had finally gotten to her. He had thought about finding Willow or Xander or Giles – really finding them this time, not just some half-hearted last minute kind of thing – but after Sam’s death he just couldn’t bear hearing that Buffy was dead, too. Better to imagine her somehow escaping her fate and living happily ever after, even if it was with Angel, or, God forbid, Spike.

Still, Riley had always hoped that she’d been able to have what he had found with Sam, even if only for a little while.

This was definitely not dead, however, and, as far as Riley could tell so far, she wasn’t with Angel or Spike. She was here. Living in Boston. Unbeliev-

“Dad!” Kate landed square on top of him as she shouted his name. She pulled him up into a sitting position. “It’s about to start pouring.”

So it was. Riley belatedly realized that the wind had picked up a bit and the air had changed. He’d been too busy thinking about Buffy to notice.

“We want to go back to the house,” Kate said.

“We?” he asked.

She nodded towards the other blanket. “Yeah. We’re already packing up.”

He turned to see that yes, indeed, the kids were packing up. To Jean – who was also now sitting up and had leaned in to hear the conversation – he said, “What do you think?”

Jean started to gather things up. “Fine with me.”

Buffy sat up, too. She reached back across the blanket and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“It’s about to rain,” he answered, forcing himself not to pay any attention to the searing heat that was her hand on his skin, the exact kind of thing he had hoped to avoid by moving to the other end of the blanket. “The kids want to go home.” He also tried to ignore how much he didn’t want to leave – who really cared if it was about to pour? He wasn’t ready for her to go away. “You’re welcome to come.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about all the reasons that was wrong. Like, for example, not running it by the kids first – not that he needed their permission but they should at least get the courtesy of a heads up. Or like putting Buffy on the spot – as though she really wanted to spend the rest of the evening with him and his family.

Retreat, Riley. Retreat. “Or you can stay here and keep the blanket. The flamingos have to come with me, though. Graham probably wants them back.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm and, although she smiled, the look in her eyes was dead serious. Somehow, despite the roar of noise around them, he heard her loud and clear as she whispered, “Do you honestly think I’m letting you disappear into the night again?”

The moment was gone almost as quickly as it came. She let go and sat forward, rousing Dawn and Eddie.

It only took a few minutes to get everything packed up, another ten to clear the footbridge off the Esplanade. Luckily, what with guiding six kids and four adults through the crowd, there was enough commotion that there wasn’t really an opportunity to talk. As much as he didn’t want her to go, he wasn’t sure what to say; what on earth he could possibly say.

The rain started as soon as they got to Charles Street – a sudden, driving downpour that brought to mind a certain forty-day flood.

“Please tell me we’re close!” Buffy shouted, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up.

“Kind of!” Riley tried to adjust the backpack he was carrying. Next outing everyone was responsible for carrying their own stuff. It actually seemed that the backpack was heavier now than it had been on the way to the fireworks. That's what he got for giving them money to buy souvenirs.

There was a sudden flash of movement: the kids running past the adults, Kate turning around and taunting, “Race you, Daddy” as she passed. She nodded towards Buffy. “And anyone else who thinks they can beat us.”

An odd smile came over Buffy’s face. One that said, Challenge received and accepted. With a backwards glance at Riley, she took off, calling, “Coming?” over her shoulder.

He turned to Jean and Dawn and Eddie. As much as he wanted to follow right on Buffy’s heels, he couldn’t just leave them behind.

They were already running, though, and Dawn laughed as she yelled at Riley to, “Go, go, go! Put those kids in their place!”

Tightening the backpack’s straps, Riley smiled and ran backwards a couple steps, his eyes lingering on Jean until she looked up. Once she nodded for him to go ahead, he turned and ran after Buffy and the kids.

Youth had a lot going for it; training to outrun a Saarkot demon while in full battle dress, however, had even more. Enough for him to overtake Beth and Ben without any problems whatsoever. Josh and Annie were a little harder, but he made it past them, too, gaining on the heels of Kate and Charlie.

As they neared the house, he put on a burst of speed: having Buffy beat him was one thing; having it be one of his fourteen-year-olds and the boyfriend of the other of his fourteen-year-olds, however – even if they’d had a sizable head start – was unacceptable.

Running past Kate, he was pleased to see that, despite the burning in his lungs, he managed to run backwards so he could face her. “Try to keep up next time, Katie!”

“Oh – so mature, Dad,” Kate called after him.

Now it was Charlie putting on the turbo charge, and it took every ounce of energy Riley had to keep ahead of him. Barely, as it turned out – when he slammed into the door, he was only two steps ahead of the kid. Buffy, having beaten them both, jumped out of the way just in time.

Oh, shit, was that a bad idea, Riley thought, shrugging the backpack off and leaning against the door as he tried to catch his breath. It was a damn good thing that Charlie looked just as worn out; if that hadn’t been the case, the kid would’ve had to go. It was as simple as that.

The door opened suddenly behind him. He grabbed at the doorjamb in order not to fall directly onto his mother. It might have interrupted her scolding. Wouldn't want that. Geez.

“Riley Finn, could you please remember that you have neighbors – elderly neighbors – who may not enjoy hearing you race your way up the street at this time of night.”

“Hi, Mom,” Riley said, feeling much more fourteen than forty at the moment. He stepped aside as the kids ran in past him.

“Hi, honey,” she replied sweetly before yelling down the hall. “Boys in Kate’s room, girls in Annie’s! And leave your shoes down here. Kate – get baskets from the laundry room. Wet clothes in baskets - not on the floor! Riley – get these children some warm, dry clothing. You, dear,” she said to Buffy, “there are towels in the bathroom – top of the stairs, first door on the right. The kids will need them.”

Buffy looked amused as she walked into the hallway. It was clear she was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.” Under her breath she said to Riley, “I see where you got that whole drill sergeant thing from.”

Riley followed her, leaving the door open behind him. “Mom – there are three more coming.”

His mom nodded and shooed them up the stairs. “Get moving. I will not have naked children running around under my roof.”

“My roof, Mom.” Kind of.

Riley pointed to the bathroom once he and Buffy were upstairs. “I have more towels in my room. Come find me if you need them.” He went further down the hallway and into his bedroom.

The second he had the door closed behind him, he leaned against it, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

Let's just go to the replay: Buffy was alive. Buffy was alive and living in Boston. Buffy was alive and living in Boston and standing no more than twenty feet away from him, getting towels out of his bathroom closet.

Un-fucking-believable.

After a good minute of existing purely in a state of shock, he went into his closet and started pulling out t-shirts and shorts for the boys; Annie had enough stuff in her room for the girls. In fact, Annie could probably outfit her entire school with the stuff she had in her room.

Riley opened his door just as Buffy was coming out of the bathroom with a stack of towels.

“Where to?” she asked.

They went up another set of stairs into the hallway that the kids’ rooms were off of. Riley had never really thought about exactly how narrow the hall was – not until he was standing in it with Buffy, trying not to notice how close she was. Or how nice she smelled. Or how amazing she looked, even with her hair plastered to her head.

Well, actually, not plastered to her head any longer. It was perfectly tousled – she’d obviously taken advantage of the towels in the bathroom, using one to dry her hair. And then there was the way her cheeks were flushed, the way her skin glowed...

“What?” she said quietly, her eyes unwavering.

“Sorry. It’s just...” He ducked his head. Hadn’t realized he was staring. “You look...”

...Like the way you used to. In the morning. When we'd wake up.

Thank God for the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing – the one that was so heavy even the pouring rain couldn’t weigh it down. She was alluring enough without the cling.

“You look nice,” he said, turning away before she could respond. There was no way she believed that that’s all he’d been thinking. He banged on Kate’s door and gave the dry clothes and towels to Josh, then knocked on Annie’s door and gave her the rest of the towels Buffy had been holding.

As soon as Annie closed the door behind Riley, Buffy stepped forward – as in very close forward – and placed her hand on his arm. “You look nice, too,” she whispered, looking up at him.

Breathe. Do not pay any attention to her hand and - most definitely - do not read anything into what she said or how she said it. Just breathe.

She pulled away abruptly when the door to Annie’s room swung open, followed almost immediately by the door to Kate’s. One by one, the kids started to come out, Josh and Kate each carrying a laundry basket full of wet clothes.

“Hey, Dad.” Annie punched him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Not bad for an old man, but I probably should have told you that Charlie was on the track team at his old school - otherwise you might have been able to beat him by a respectable amount.”

“Did you happen to notice the hulking backpack I was wearing?” Riley called after her. "Full of your stuff, by the way."

Buffy grinned. “She’s right– not bad for an old man. Much older than me, of course.”

Which wasn't entirely true. Not the "much" part at least. It was only four years.

She turned and headed down the stairs. “Do we get to change, too?”

Following her, he answered, “Sure.” As they returned to the second floor, he hesitated only slightly before gesturing to his room. God, Ri. You are an adult, after all. You can, actually, have her in your bedroom and have it be nothing about sex. “In here.”

After letting her go first into his room, he walked past her to the closet. It wasn’t until she murmured, “This house is incredible,” that he realized what it must look like to her.

A townhouse on the South Slope – i.e., the better side of the not so bad tracks – of Beacon Hill. A townhouse that was big enough to have a huge entrance hallway with living rooms off either side of it and a formal dining room within view of the front door. A third floor with eight – yes, eight – rooms leading off its narrow hallway. And, here, back on the second floor, a bedroom that was the size of her mom’s living room, dining room, and kitchen put together; not to mention the walk-in closet in which they were now standing, one that was at least twice the size of the room he’d had growing up.

It had taken him some getting used to himself. The first time Sam had brought him here he'd walked around for at least a day with his mouth hanging open. It took him a full month before he'd really felt like he knew every space in the house.

That had been a long time ago, though. A very long time ago.

He rooted around through a drawer, somehow unable to remember what, exactly, it was he was trying to find. “Yeah. I’ve been here so long that I forget what it looks like the first time.” Oh, right. A t-shirt. A t-shirt for Buffy.

Goddamn.

She sat down on the bench that was built into the wall and asked, “You still work for the government? They must pay pretty well.”

“Not quite this well." Riley laughed as he grabbed a shirt out of the drawer. "The house has been in Sam’s family since the day it was built. She was an only child. When she died, it went into a trust for the kids.”

“Your kids own this house,” Buffy stated in disbelief.

Tell me about it. “My kids have more money than my entire family has earned in ten generations.”

Her eyes were fixed on the custom Cherry cabinets. “That must be weird.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty much still in denial.” Riley opened more drawers, one after another. Shorts had to be here somewhere. He'd never had a problem finding them before. “It would be worse if they had a clue.” Riley, focus. For Heaven’s sake. Third drawer down on the left. “So far they don’t.”

Finally, he thought, pulling out a pair of shorts with a drawstring waist. “They’re probably about ten sizes too big. One of the girls could give you something that would be a little more comfortable.” He threw them to her along with the shirt.

Her hand went up in the air to catch them as she stood up. “No, I’m sure these are fine.”

She began to unzip her sweatshirt and then stopped abruptly, laughing self-consciously as she mumbled, “Sorry. It’s just...” She shrugged.

Weird to be standing here together after all this time? Tempting to be so damn close when there wasn't the safe haven of a wife for protection? Downright wrong to be remembering her - vividly - with every cell in his body?

Oh, right. That was just him.

Riley pointed to the door across from her. “You can use my bathroom. Towels are in the closet.”

She nodded and walked forward, stopping short as she snapped on the light. She turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised, before crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her.

Well, yeah; it was a nice bathroom. Big, like just about everything else in the house, with a sleek granite and marble look going for it. There was an enormous tub with whirlpool jets that didn't get much use these days; a dressing table and vanity that got even less. Opposite the tub was a shower that was almost a room in itself. No door or curtain on it, just a glass wall that separated it from the rest of the room. Everything else was pretty much standard issue.

Riley changed quickly, deliberately thinking about the week's grocery list and the kids' various schedules for the next few days rather than what was happening on the other side of the bathroom door. There was absolutely no denying what even just her presence still did to him after all this time. Thinking about her stripping out of wet clothes? That wasn't going to get anyone anywhere good.

He went back into his room and looked around, wishing that he hadn't been so well trained to pick up after himself. If there were ever a time when busily tidying up a messy room would be a good expenditure of energy, now was it. There wasn't much to do, however. Even the bed was already made.

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, he reached for one of the magazines that sat on the bedside table. The Economist. Excellent. Perfect reading material for when the last thing you want to do is think about the woman on the other side of the door.

Take that back. Absolutely horrible reading material for when that's the last thing you want to do. U.S. Trade Policy wasn't exactly the kind of topic that could provide enough of a distraction.

Riley put the magazine back and picked up the remote instead. Aiming it across the room, he turned the TV on to check the baseball highlights. Cubs lost to the Cardinals. Boston beat Oakland; Yankees slayed Seattle.

Yes, that's actually what they said. Slayed. Not helping with the avoiding-thinking-of-Buffy thing.

TV off.

He stood up and walked around the room, straightening out the lamp, rearranging the pictures on the desk. Or, to be more exact, rearranging the pictures of Sam staring back at him as he stood here in their bedroom thinking about Buffy.

There was something entirely wrong with that. He moved the pictures back into place.

Damn, he thought, turning around. What was taking Buffy so long? He looked at the door that connected the bedroom to the bathroom. "You almost finished in there?" he called out as he came back to the bed and sat down.

"Almost," she replied, her voice muffled.

He heard her turn the sink on, then off. A few seconds later, the door opened. As she leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes swept the bedroom, taking in the King-sized four-post bed, the sitting alcove with the two leather chairs, and the - if Riley had to say so himself - sweet TV/stereo (surround sound) system.

Her eyes couldn't quite contain their smirk. "Not bad for an Iowa farmboy."

Looking down, he said, "No." It was a beautiful house; there was no denying that. Not the one he would have chosen, however; and certainly not one he had earned. That was all thanks to Sam. And how did he pay her back? By entertaining not at all ready for primetime thoughts about his old girlfriend. "I guess not."

He raised his eyes again to see her watching him closely, obviously figuring out there was something more behind his words. She didn't comment. Instead, she came over and perched on the edge of the bed. Near him, but not next to him. For a second, he thought she was going to reach out to him. She just grinned, though, and said, “I can’t believe you still have that shirt.”

He looked down. It was a navy blue t-shirt from a vendor on the Santa Monica pier. The faded lettering said something about Greenpeace. He had forgotten she'd bought it for him as a joke - about a billion years ago it seemed - daring him to wear it around all his friends from the Initiative. Not that there were many left in Sunnydale at that point.

Smiling, he said, “So I do.”

There was an awkward silence. One that Riley couldn't begin to fill because he was too busy forcing himself not to be too turned on by the way she looked in his clothes. Though she hadn't done it that often, he'd always loved when she would grab one of his shirts and wear that home rather than what she'd worn to his place. If she made it home, that is. More often than not he'd just grab her and pull her back into his room. Take those clothes right off her.

Not a bad cycle, actually.

“Riley!”

He was almost grateful to hear his mother's voice. Standing up, he gestured for Buffy to go ahead of him. "After you."

They found his mom waiting at the bottom of the stairs. As they neared, she pushed her glasses to the top of her head, saying, “The movie’s started. Everyone has hot chocolate and popcorn, Jack said you promised him a chapter of Harry Potter, and I’m going to bed.”

Despite her words, she obviously had no intention of going anywhere. Not yet. Her eyes narrowed in a focused kind of way and her head tilted slightly towards Buffy.

Riley got the hint. Ordinarily, it was the first thing he would have done - introduce Buffy to his mother. This night, however, was far from ordinary.

His mom, realizing that nothing was coming, took matters into her own hands. “Please excuse my son's manners,” she said, smiling at Buffy. “You must be Dawn’s sister – I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to catch the name. The kids started fighting over the movie before Dawn was able to say.”

It was occurring to Riley that, not only had his mother never actually met Buffy, but that she still had no idea that's who it was standing here. He was sure he'd mentioned Dawn to her at some point during that year in Sunnydale, but there was no reason for his mom to put the two together, especially not fifteen years later. “Mom" - get the smelling salts ready - "this is Buffy.”

“It’s so nice to meet…” The shock came over her face suddenly, and, even a woman as adept at perfect etiquette as his mom was unable to fully hide it. She took a step back and looked from Riley to Buffy and back to Riley again. “Did you just say...?”

Buffy stepped forward and held out her hand. “Mrs. Finn. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Mary Finn didn’t bother with handshakes. Riley wasn't at all surprised that she pulled Buffy into her arms instead, murmuring, “You dear, dear child. I was so sorry to hear about your mother. Riley told me what a wonderful woman she was.” She released Buffy from her embrace. “Buffy Summers. What a pleasure this is.”

The glance his mother gave him was so loaded that Riley had to look away. He knew she'd always wondered what had happened with Buffy. There had been other girls before then - ones he'd brought home, even. He was pretty sure she'd always known, though, that Buffy was different.

Not like they'd ever talked about it. It wasn't as though he'd ever shared exactly how bad things had gotten. And by the time he'd returned from his ten months on the other side of the earth - with a very visible scar and, oh right, a brand new wife - Buffy wasn't exactly the first point of discussion.

Out of respect, his mother had never mentioned Buffy's name, not when Sam was alive, and certainly not after she'd died. There had been times when he could easily have brought up the subject, but Riley had preferred to just let it go. He had no interest in answering the questions that would likely come up.

Of course, at the moment, he had no problem with his mom's questions. Like, for example, the one she was currently asking Buffy: "Is this your first time in Boston?”

Buffy shook her head. “I’ve visited a bunch of times since Dawn started school. And I just bought a house in Brighton. Near Boston College.”

Riley's head jerked up. Even though he'd heard Dawn say that Buffy had just moved to Boston, it never even crossed his mind that she'd done anything as permanent as buying a house. In Brighton, no less. Near BC, which also happened to be about three minutes from where Annie and Kate went to school.

He only vaguely registered his mother saying, “Well, we must have you girls over for dinner one day soon. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”

Hope we'll be seeing more of you. Don't even think about it. Not about seeing more of her and not about seeing her more often - two very different things, both of which sounded much too enticing. He looked away.

Not soon enough, though, to avoid Buffy's glance as she said, "I’d like that.”

It means nothing. Absolutely nothing. What else was she going to say? 'Not on your life'?

He turned back to see both women staring at him. Before he knew it, his mother's arms were around him and he could practically feel the hopefulness in her hug and kiss, could hear her mentally running through the list of who it was appropriate to invite to a second wedding for the son who'd never really had a first.

What the hell? Why was it that no one believed him when he said he was happy?

That look in her eyes was one he'd seen before and, if he wasn't careful, she might actually sit Buffy down right here on the stairs and tell her that it was about time Riley had a wife. No. On second thought, she'd never make Buffy sit on the stairs. There would be a proper tea-and-sandwiches spread before the heavy conversation took place.

"I love you, Mom," he said, hoping she'd get the hint. "Good night."

There was only a moment of hesitation before his mother glanced at Buffy and smiled. As she hugged him one more time, her eyes got a little teary. “I love you so much, Riley. Tell the girls good night for me. If your dad calls, tell him I hope he had a nice dive and I’ll see them at the airport tomorrow night.”

Riley watched her go up the stairs, then turned back to Buffy. “Sorry – she can get a little intense.”

“No," Buffy answered. "It’s nice to be…mothered.”

Her voice sounded sad, which, of course, made sense. Between Joyce's death and Buffy's father's absence, Riley supposed Buffy didn't get much in terms of parental concern. Maybe from Giles, maybe from... Well, no, not Xander's parents - not unless fruit punch and roll-ups counted, and, from all accounts, Willow's parents hadn't exactly been the warmest. Angel or Spike? Unh-uh.

“A nice dive?” Buffy asked, before Riley could say anything.

“My dad and Liam are in Florida scuba diving this week,” he said, looking down the hall - he did have guests, after all. An actual date, who he'd been abominable to. He gestured towards the living room. Reluctantly, he said, "I really need to..."

"I know," Buffy answered, looking down. "Me, too."

He led her down the hallway to the less formal of the two living rooms, the one where the family ended up on nights like this due to its large-screen TV. He pushed open the glass doors, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkened room. The only thing he could easily tell was that nearly every available surface was taken up by someone sitting or lying down as they watched a movie.

Buffy, having Slayer eyes, had easily identified where Dawn was sitting with Eddie in the loveseat; she was already halfway across the room. Riley, on the other hand, needed a full second to figure out which of the shapes was Jean.

Before he could move, she stood up and came over towards him, following him back into the hall. He closed the door behind them as she leaned back against the wall.

Apologetically, he said, “I swear that even though I’m not interested in dating, I’m not usually as much of a jerk as I was tonight."

Jean didn't seem at all annoyed. “I’m actually having a very nice evening. Chocolate-covered strawberries, a not-too-shabby card game, no unwanted advances - my blind dates don't get much better than that." She laughed. "That pretending-to-be-madly-in-love plan might have worked out pretty well."

Riley smiled, thinking how ironic this was - of all the dates Sarah had set him up on over the years, this would probably have been the best. “Might have?" he asked.

Grinning, Jean answered, "I have a feeling your cover's about to be blown. Dawn said you and Buffy used to go out in college. That's the kind of thing that Sarah's going to get wind of pretty quickly.”

Aw, fuck. That hadn't even occurred to him yet. Of course Sarah would find out. Plus, “Did Dawn happen to say that in front of the kids?”

Jean nodded. The amusement on her face made it clear she understood the ramifications of such a situation. “I’m afraid you might be in for some questions.”

Shit.

The door to the living room opened and Buffy came out. She glanced from Jean to Riley. “Dawn and Eddie want to stay and watch the movie." Hurriedly, she added, "But I was thinking we should probably go. You have a pretty full house."

Riley couldn't deny that his heart sank a bit. Fairytale over.

Before he could answer, Jean pushed off the wall and said to Buffy, "I hope you're not saying that on my account." She grinned again. She seemed to be finding all of this very amusing.

Well, he supposed he would have too if he were seeing it from a different perspective.

"Personally," she was saying, "if I were Riley, right about now I'd be wanting to take advantage of all these extra chaperones so I could catch up with my old girlfriend. I certainly wouldn't want to be watching some movie about vampires with a bunch of teenagers."

Riley looked through the glass doors, noticing the movie for the first time. "They're watching the one about vampires?"

He hadn't realized how harsh he sounded until he saw the guilty look on Jean's face. "They swore it was PG-13," she said. "I told them it was o.k."

“Sorry,” Riley replied quickly. “No - that’s fine. It’s just not one of my personal favorites.”

He resisted looking at Buffy until Jean had gone back into the living room. He was glad to see that she didn't seem to be making any move to get Dawn and Eddie out of the living room. Still, "I can drive you guys home if you want. Or call a ta-"

Buffy cut him off with a, "No." She smiled. "Jean was right. I was just being polite. I'd much rather...catch up." The smile left her face. "Unless... I mean, if you'd rather we go."

Was she kidding? "Stay," he said more gruffly than he would have liked, trying not to betray exactly how much he wanted her here.

She nodded. "O.k."

There was a look in her eyes that did not seem at all innocent. Or maybe he was just thinking a little too wishfully.

Picking up the laundry baskets full of wet clothes - the ones the kids had just dropped in the middle of the hallway - he piled them on top of one another and started walking towards the laundry room, highly aware that Buffy's eyes were taking in every detail of the house, every picture on the wall. He needed to get back onto ground that was a little more solid, discussing things like why vampire movies were such a loaded topic.

“One of the reasons I could never really get into dating,” he said as they reached the end of the hall. “It was hard to have a conversation without mentioning what I did every day.” He opened the door to the laundry room and switched on the light.

Buffy leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “What do you do every day?”

Fair question. Throwing clothes into the dryer, Riley answered, “Pretty much what I always did except not in the field. A lot of research and analysis. We’ve spent a lot of time working with foreign governments – sending teams in, helping them develop their own programs, stuff like that.”

There was a pause before she asked, “A desk job?”

Don't even go there. He slammed the door to the dryer shut with a little more force than may have been absolutely necessary. “Kind of.” He turned the machine on and stood up. “I have to say good-night to Jack. Do you want to meet him?”

"Yes." She stepped back into the hallway, leaving enough space that there was no possibility he'd touch her as he walked past. There was a smile on her face, though - the kind that women seemed to get whenever men mentioned doing something with their kids that had nothing to do with sports. "Besides - who could pass up Agent Finn doing the Hogwarts thing?"

Or the smile she'd get whenever he conceded that magic might have a place in his highly ordered, military world.

He took the back stairs this time, largely because they were narrower. Good narrow this time. Closed in, in a way that didn't allow much opportunity for conversation.

That didn't stop her from muttering, "No wonder you stay in such good shape," as they climbed to the top floor.

Well, that was worth a grin. Having her notice the shape he was in couldn't be a bad thing.

The back stairs were also better in that they happened to come out into the third floor hallway exactly opposite Jack's room. Riley knocked on the door and entered the room. The light was on, but Jack seemed to be struggling to hold the book, clearly drifting in and out of sleep.

Riley took the book out of Jack's hand and placed it on the table next to the bed. “Late night, huh? Maybe we should skip Harry.”

"Yeah, Dad. O.k." Jack was definitely tired. Otherwise he never would have agreed.

“Did you have fun at the movies today?” Sitting down on the bed, Riley leaned forward to ruffle Jack's' hair. Surprisingly enough, Jack didn't pull back with protests that he was nine and his father should therefore not be ruffling his hair or picking him up or doing any of those things that had been o.k. when he was a kid but were certainly not o.k. now.

He did the exact opposite, in fact, turning over to face Riley, with renewed energy and excitedly answering, “Grandma bought me Milk Duds and popcorn. They taste really good together, even though it sounds like they wouldn’t.”

Riley laughed. “Yeah, she got me hooked on that, too. Did you get to see any of the fireworks?”

“Uh-huh. They were pretty cool." Jack's voice suddenly dropped to a shy whisper as he looked over Riley's shoulder. He had obviously noticed Buffy standing in the doorway.

For some reason, this felt even stranger than it had with Annie. Although, Riley supposed, when he had introduced Buffy and Annie, he had been concentrating on just being able to speak. Now it was actually hitting him that he was introducing Buffy to his children. Or not, as the case may be at the moment.

So get on it, Ri.

He moved aside so there was a direct line of sight between the two. “Jack, this is Buffy. She’s a friend of mine from when I used to live in California.” Riley turned to Buffy. “Buffy - Jack.”

Her face was a jumble of emotions.

Actually, that wasn't really true. Her face didn't seem to betray anything; it was her eyes that spoke volumes. There was a touch of sadness, a tinge of disbelief, and a little of that vulnerability that rarely made it past her steel defenses. Overall, though, there was genuine warmth as she smiled and waved. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

On the other hand, Jack just seemed confused as he looked at Buffy, clearly wondering how exactly she fit in to this picture. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled back. “Were you a friend of my mom's, too?”

"Um, no," she replied, obviously caught off guard by the direct question. She recovered quickly, though, adding, “But I met her once.” Buffy glanced at Riley then immediately looked away. “She and your dad came to visit.”

That seemed to be enough for Jack. “O.k. Good night.” He reached up to hug Riley. “I love you, Dad.”

Riley kissed Jack’s forehead and reached over to shut off the light. “'Night, Jack.”

Watching his son turn over and pull the covers up, Riley sat for a minute longer than necessary, gathering strength for something he thought he'd never have to face again: being alone with Buffy. No kids he had to get back to, no date to use an excuse. Just him and Buffy. 'Catching up.' This was either going to be really good or really bad; he couldn't really imagine much of an in-between.

He stood up and left the room, joining Buffy in the hallway. In the narrow hallway. They were obviously not going to be hanging out here.

Despite the numerous options in the house, there didn't seem anywhere to bring her - the kitchen was too close to the movie and, therefore, the kids; his bedroom, well, no. Definitely not. Everywhere else in the house - his office, the official living room, the dining room, etc. - seemed either too formal and/or too impersonal. That meant there was really only one option. Riley walked towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Following him, Buffy said, “Jack seems sweet. He must have been young when Sam died.”

“Very,” Riley answered curtly, having no interest in discussing that. He opened the door that revealed yet another stairway leading up. “Want to see the best part of the house?”

A smile appeared on her face. “I was pretty impressed by your bathroom. Does it beat that?”

Riley grinned. "In my personal opinion, yes." He held out his hand indicating she should go ahead. "You first."