Her house was of 1930s vintage, squeezed into a small plot of land between twin bungalows. The only one of its kind -- long and narrow; three rectangular blocks stacked on top of one another, topped off with a roof -- it was built into the hill, submerged like a boat sitting in water. At any moment Riley expected the garage door to open and cars to start driving out as they would from a ferry.   

The garage door was split in two, each oversized half opening up as a normal door would. The first floor was almost a full flight of stairs above the street, directly over the garage. Overgrown rose bushes grew up around the railings, almost completely obscuring the front door. On the second floor, a deck ran the width of the house, its floor the roof of the screened porch below.

"Kind of weird looking, no?" Buffy asked. "I loved it the minute I saw it. Have to trim the roses, though. I only use the front door when Dawn's here -- she has a thing about basements." She took out her keys and walked past the Mercedes convertible that was sitting in the driveway.

"Nice car," Riley said as Buffy unlocked the garage door and pulled it open.

She glanced at it and smiled. "Angel's fault. He got tired of driving me around when I moved to L.A. He said if I got a nice enough car I'd have an incentive not to hit things. Might even start liking the whole driving thing."

Interesting reasoning. "Kind of expensive - no?"

"Yeah, but it worked." She smiled proudly. "Only three dents. Teensy ones."  

Riley stepped aside when she reached back to close the door. He followed her through the garage and up the two steps into the basement.  

"This is going to be my training room," she said. "The garage is so narrow it's pretty much useless. We'll knock down the wall to the garage, raise the floor so it's all the same level, and make it into one big room. Xander's project for when he comes."

'Project'? She called this a 'project'? "How long exactly is Xander staying?"

She walked towards the stairs. "A couple of weeks, why?"

Riley just shook his head. Two weeks. "Let me know if he needs any help." He followed Buffy to the first floor.

"Pretty standard," she said, pointing out the various rooms. "Kitchen, dining room, living room and two bedrooms. Bathroom off the hall."

They wandered through the first floor as she talked. The bedrooms were on the small side, but big enough for the basics.   Not that there was much in terms of basics; the furnishings consisted mostly of empty boxes in the dining room and a couple of chairs in the living room. That was pretty much it.

Buffy said, "I had some stuff shipped, but Xander and Anya are bringing the rest of the furniture from my mom's house so I'll finally have a couch and table and everything. This is fine for now. I spend most of my time upstairs anyway." She climbed the stairs. "My turn to show off," she said, standing to the side as Riley came up behind her.

The huge, airy room took up the entire footprint of the house and seemed open to the sky due to the numerous skylights set into the ceiling. On one end was a king-sized bed with an intricately carved headboard that matched the armoire standing across from it. Next to the bed was an oversized armchair and ottoman. Clearly the relaxation part of the room.  

To the left was the working part -- an old, wooden desk next to two file cabinets sitting opposite a punching bag and a set of weights. Just beyond the desk were French doors leading to the deck that could be seen from the street.

Buffy had already opened the doors and walked outside. "My tree-house."

Between the slope of the hill and the height of the deck, the one-story ranch houses across the street seemed tiny and far away. Beyond the row of houses was another street further down the hill, all signs of further civilization hidden by tall trees, the tops of which were below the viewpoint from Buffy's deck. The rolling hills of a golf course lay in a small valley. Across the valley atop another hill were the stone buildings of Boston College. It was all very familiar, though he'd never seen it from quite this perspective.

"I'm always amazed that there's a golf course in the middle of Boston," Riley said, coming to stand next to her.  

She clearly hadn't expected him to be able to identify the patch of green her house overlooked. "You know this area?"

Riley leaned on the railing. "Sam's parents live on the other side of B.C. And Kate and Annie go to school around here."

"Really," she said, smiling.  

It seemed to make her happy that Riley knew her neighborhood. That made him smile, too. "I think your view wins."

"I don't know," she answered. "You get to see the river from your roof. But, yeah, this comes pretty close."

He turned to her. "Great house."

"The person I bought it from was a painter. This room was her studio." Buffy walked back inside and slid open a closet door, revealing a small refrigerator, sink and counter. "I never have to leave. Probably why downstairs doesn't look too homey.   Dawn thinks it's a big waste of space, but to me it's perfect."

She'd shifted into babbling mode. It surprised Riley. She certainly hadn't expressed any reservations before now; if anything, she'd been the one powering this train. Yet now she was flustered -- in addition to the babbling, she'd taken the bag from Riley's hand and started to empty it, seemingly just to have something to do.  

He followed her into the room and sat down in the chair next to the bed, trying to keep the laughter from his eyes as he watched her take the boxes of condoms out. She stared at them as if she couldn't quite remember how they had gotten there.  

"Do you want a drink?" she asked.  

"No." Riley knew he couldn't hide the hunger in his eyes and in his voice, but he wasn't going to make the first move.   She needed to be ready -- truly ready.  

She took a deep breath. "Long haul, right? Playing for keeps," she said as if reminding herself.

He nodded.  

After a moment's hesitation, she tossed him the box she had been holding and ran her hand through her hair. "O.k. I'm in."

Riley had to admit - as nice as it had been to hear what she'd said in the car, this was different. This was her actually thinking about it; considering whether she was willing to give him what he was asking. He knew how hard it was for her to come to that decision. It was hard enough for him to make a commitment like that, even to Buffy; the impact this would have on his life -- on his family -- would be enormous. One of the other reasons he had never gotten into the dating thing: too many complications, the main one being what was best for the kids -- would they understand that Sam would always be a part of his life? That no other woman could possibly invade the place he held for her in his heart?  

Or that loving one woman didn't have to mean forgetting another? Not the easiest concept to grasp. And how could they possibly get that? God knows, it had taken him long enough to figure it out.

But he also wanted them to see that life went on, that the human heart had an infinite capacity for love. That things like joy and happiness and ecstasy and hope could still exist after heartbreaking sorrow. That love was what helped you get through the brutal days and nights that life handed to you -- having someone to cradle your body when it hurt too much to breathe, to look into your eyes and tell you it was worth living through another day. To make you look right back until they were sure you agreed. And if you were lucky enough, to be your companion through forty years of crops failing or cars not starting or the damn furnace not making it through one more winter; through the catastrophes and drudgery of every day life.

What he wanted for his children. What he had given up for himself, not even sure if he was capable of falling in love again, much less whether he wanted to. He'd had two chances in love -- screwed up the first one, bad luck on the second.  

Then comes Buffy. Back in his life again, turning everything upside down. No need to worry if the love was there because it always had been. And although he had never been one to dwell on the what-if's, he couldn't deny that he had thought of her more often than not in recent years, now that the kids were old enough to not need his constant attention, now that his memories of Sam weren't enough to hold off the emptiness inside. Though he'd never admit it to her, Sarah's constant reminders had been hitting a little too close to home these days.  

And although he was only starting to admit it, only starting to fight the voice -- Sam was still his wife, damn it, and always would be - only starting to admit it. But he wanted that forty years. He wanted what his parents had, what his brothers were working towards. He wanted that black hole to be filled with something other than loss.

As much as he loved his kids, with an intensity and fervor unlike anything he had ever known even possible, it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough. He wanted someone to share his life with. And for more times in the last few months than he cared to count, he had caught himself awake in the middle of the night, alone in his empty bed wondering if maybe there was someone else out there. It had just never occurred to him that that someone might be Buffy. Fate hadn't just come knocking, it had blown down the door.

Riley watched as Buffy crossed the room, coming to a stop and kneeling in front of him. He leaned back and closed his eyes as she feathered him with kisses, starting at his knee and working her way up, her hand lightly running up his other leg.

"Buffy..." He reached down and pulled her up so that her body blanketed his. She nuzzled his neck and his whole body came alive, tingling with her touch. The sensations were overwhelming -- the way she pressed her body against him, the way she was inching her knee up between his legs, the way her mouth felt on his skin. If this was what she could do to him fully clothed, then he didn't think he'd make it much longer. And that wouldn't do. That so wouldn't do.

He put his arms around her, cradling her as he stood up; laying her gently down on the bed. Fighting to stay in control as her wide eyes looked up into his and her mouth opened slightly. Leaning down, he kissed her, losing himself. Thankful for the billion push-ups he had done over the course of his lifetime, he held himself over her as her hands ran up underneath his shirt, skimming his chest, his back, his stomach and urging him to lower his body to hers.

Would not do.

He stood up and lifted his shirt over his head, watching as she sat up and leaned forward to kiss him. Her tongue ran along his skin, just above the waistband of his shorts while she reached around to pull him closer. Easing her back onto the bed, his hands traveled slowly from her shoulders to her waist, coming back up again and bringing her shirt with them. He smiled when he noticed her bra was still damp.

"Best I could do with the blow-dryer," she said with a smile and a shrug. "Underwear was a lost cause, though. Left those on the floor of your shower." His involuntary glance to her shorts made her laugh. "Don't expect such easy access all the time."

"Understood. I promise, I don't mind doing the legwork." He bent down, putting his mouth to the lacy material as he reached back to undo the clasp of her bra. She shifted so he could slip the straps off her arms, shivering as his tongue touched her skin and he worked his way up to her neck and then down past her navel.

He was kneeling now, and she felt him slowly pull her shorts off, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire as they moved down her hips. His breath was warm against her thigh and unlike earlier that night when they had been so aware of the clock ticking, he took his time getting to where she wanted him to be, so that when he finally touched his tongue to her, she almost came at that moment.  

But she didn't, and he wouldn't let her -- his intent seemed to be to drive her crazy as he brought her to the edge time and again, only to ease her back down. She tried begging; that didn't work. And nothing else she did brought any release -- if she pushed against him, he backed away; if she pulled him to her, he stopped altogether. That was even worse.

"Riley," she gasped, finally unable to take anymore, "I can't..."

She tried to catch her breath when he moved away, her entire body tingling with anticipation. She lay there motionless, wondering where he had gone, but not wanting to move. She had just started to sit up when she heard the cardboard box being opened and a foil packet being torn.  

His body was suddenly covering hers, and she was completely at his mercy. His hands and mouth were everywhere at once. Her knee, her neck, her breast, her hip. She had moved from exhaustion to frenzy, arching her body to meet his touch, crying out when he finally entered her, and clinging to him as the waves washed over her.

Her muscles tightening around him, pulsing as she came... Her arms around him, hands clutching him, fingers digging into his back... Her hips thrusting into his as she cried out his name...

The way she looked, eyes closed, face flushed. The way she tasted. The memories of how her body fit with his not even coming close to the reality.  

The agonizing half hour it took to get her to where it wasn't going to matter that the minute he was inside her he was going to come crashing.  

God...  

He had forgotten how this felt, how she felt. He didn't think he had ever come so hard in his life. An explosion of color and light making everything else fade away until there was nothing else except her body beneath him. He fell against her, breathing heavily, feeling her chest rise and fall with his and thinking that this was about as good as it got.

She savored the way his arms felt around her, the heaviness of his body creating the perfect cocoon to protect her from the outside world. It had taken a long time for her to convince him that he couldn't hurt her; that his body offered her sanctuary. The one place she was free to be helpless and vulnerable. Protected. Despite how things had ended between them, in all these years there had never been another man she had trusted so completely. Too much danger with Angel; too much to question with Spike. And the other men were barely worth the energy to remember their names.

"I hate these things," Riley said as he finally got up to dispose of the condom.

Buffy pulled the sheet over her, lifting it for Riley when he came back to the bed. "Yeah. We'll have to do something about that."

He lay down beside her, smiling as she snuggled into him, her back to his chest as his arms slipped around her. How had he lived so long without this?  

"You're not going to be here when I wake up, are you?" she asked. She fought against falling asleep, worried that she would wake up and find this had all been a figment of her imagination.       

He brushed the hair off her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck. "Not unless you get up around 4:30."

She turned to face him. "You can stay that long? What about your kids?"

Kids he was not going to feel guilty about leaving at home because - "My mom's there. As long as I'm home by the time they're awake..."

"Which is at 4:30?" she asked, letting her hand trail down his arm.

"Not the kids," he answered, "but my mom is still on farm time. She'll be up by sunrise."

Buffy leaned her head against him. "Are you going to tell her?"

"About you? I think she'll probably guess. She always had a way of figuring those things out. Made high school pure hell." Riley closed his eyes while he was speaking. He couldn't quite believe he was holding Buffy. This was going to take some getting used to.

After a few minutes -- Buffy seemed to be needing some getting-used-to time, too -- she said, "And your kids?"

That was a much harder question to answer. "I don't know. Maybe Dawn would have some insight; she probably knows more about it than I do."

Buffy groaned. "Maybe I will be up at 4:30 -- I'm surprised she didn't call me the second she got home."  

Riley smiled. "She hasn't changed much, has she?"

"The old Dawn is definitely in there, but she's a lot more fun to be around these days. Doesn't let me get away with much though." Buffy reached her arm past him to the bedside table. Pausing, she asked, "I'm assuming you want me to set the alarm?"

With the way she was hovering over him? Her hair backlit by the moon? "I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight, so no, probably not necessary."

"Really?" she asked, her voice perking up. "What do you plan to be doing instead?"

"Didn't really have any plans," he said, grinning. "But if you've still got that whole endurance thing working for you, I could probably come up with an idea or two."

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, leaning forward to kiss him. "You're on."

Leaving her was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, despite the fact that this time it wasn't for good. Wasn't even for more than a day if he could help it, but he missed her the moment he closed the door behind him. He fought the urge to turn around and walk back up those stairs and lose himself in everything that she offered.

He drove home along the river, watching the city wake up as the sky began to brighten. A new day dawning; the first day of the rest of his life. He parked the car in the garage and walked home in a daze. The last time his life had changed in an instant -- hell, the last two times -- it had been a nightmare. This time it was a dream.

The smell of coffee brewing hit him as soon as he opened the door. Damn. He knew he'd been cutting it close, but, well, primal instincts had won the battle. If it hadn't been for the cartons of eggs, he would have chickened out and snuck up the stairs. May as well face it, though; better now than when the kids were up.

He walked into the kitchen. "Good morning, Mom."

She looked up from the newspaper, startled as he came in the room. "Riley Dylan Finn, what on earth are you doing up at this hour?"

He held up the bag in his hand as he went over to the refrigerator. "I promised Kate I'd make breakfast. We needed eggs."  

Looking at him over the edge of her glasses, she said, "And you couldn't wait an hour to go get them?"

"Mom," he said, sitting down across the table from her, "can I talk to you about something?"

Her eyes were already back on her puzzle. "Who was Thurman Munson?"

Nope. That wasn't it. "Catcher for the New York Yankees. Long time ago."

She picked up her pencil and filled in some squares of the crossword puzzle.  

When it was clear she wasn't going to say anything else, he reached forward and rustled her paper.

O.k. So maybe that was more a move that belonged in a three-year-old's repertoire. Still... "Mom?"

"Riley." She looked up - looked him in the eye. "You're a grown man. Where you choose to spend the night is nobody's business but your own. If you love this woman and she loves you, then you just be grateful God brought her back to you, and you make sure you tell her that every day. Everything else will take care of itself."

Um... Oh.

He sat back in his chair. She never ceased to amaze him. "The kids..."

She cut him off. "Do you plan to neglect your children?"

"Of course not," he snapped.

"Those children have lived through something far worse than your falling in love." She adjusted her glasses and turned her attention back to the paper, murmuring, "They've had you to themselves for a long time now; it would do them a bit of good to learn to share."

He hesitated, not sure how to respond to that. "You think I let them get away with too much," he said.

"My dear boy..." She looked back up and smiled. "I will not admit anything of the sort. I am so proud of you, of the way you've raised your children." She reached out to take his hand. "You're too hard on yourself. Allow yourself to be happy for a little while. Things will bring you down soon enough; no need to do it to yourself."

"I..." He was at a loss for words. A scolding he had expected; acceptance, not so much.

"You're a good man," she said. "A good father. You may stumble a bit..."

He looked away as he pulled his hand back. Sex in the shower with Buffy as his kids watched a movie with their friends downstairs? Definitely stumbling.

"...But you'll figure it out," she continued. "Now go get some sleep."

Well, um, o.k. He stood up and leaned over, kissing her forehead. "Thanks, Mom. Wake me up if I'm not down by nine?"

She nodded, already focused on the next clue.