I'll Come Running
Third in the "Spinning Wheels" series.
Other fan fiction by Alexandra Huxley

SPOILER: Normal Again (6th season)

Warnings and disclaimers:
1) If you're a Riley hater, don't bother reading this fic; everyone else, enjoy.
2) The characters in this piece belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., and a lot of other people who are not me.

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“Buffy, sit down. You’ll fall over.”

“No, I can’t. Not until I have the antitode.”

“O.k. We’ll make more. We’ll take care of it. Everything’s going to be o.k., Buffy.”

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

“No, I said ‘Jenkins.’ Juliet-Echo-November... Right. Alpha-November-Yankee-Alpha. Anya.”

Riley tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. “No!” he said, a little too quickly, clutching the phone, “No contact. If you find her, tell me and me only. Is that clear? I need it yesterday.” Riley hung up the phone and stared at it for a few seconds. For all of its faults, the Initiative had definitely had its moments. Checking the hotel registrations in Sunnydale was a matter of minutes; California, half an hour tops. Command had access to any information stored in any database anywhere. He had never really wondered how they did it, just knew that it was a phone call away. But that was history.

The past week had been a nightmare of red tape. Coming out of Black Ops wasn’t quite as easy as going in. For the first day, they couldn’t find him in the system. They kept telling him he was missing in action somewhere in Tanzania. He had had to track down Colonel Vaughan in Nevada and have her call D.C. to swear that she had seen him less than a week ago and had dispatched him to Sunnydale alive and in one piece.

The next two days were spent getting physicals and i.d. badges. Two sets of everything – one under the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the other under, well, whatever they were calling it these days. And then there was the security clearance. Since the attacks on New York and Washington, the Pentagon had been in lock down mode. Anyone who had been out of the country was required to be completely reevaluated for security clearance. That included a substantial portion of the U.S. Armed Forces, not to mention the diplomatic corps; the back up was immense.

By Tuesday afternoon, he had started putting a dollar bill on his desk for every person he got passed to. It took $46 (and four trips to the cafeteria for change) before he finally got assurance that he would be back to the clearance level he had been at when the Initiative folded. Riley was of high enough rank – and his program of great enough importance – that his clearance was being expedited, but it would still be at least another week before it was official. A week in which he would use his newfound experience in bureaucracy to hunt down the person who was supposed to have taken care of all this stuff in the first place.

And to find Anya. If he couldn’t do it officially, he would do it through other channels. Being on hold for the better part of two days had given him the chance to learn inside and out the two databases he did have access to. Reading through a year’s worth of press releases and promotions wasn’t something he’d do under normal circumstances, but it gave him three names that would work and between phone calls about his clearance, he had managed to find Stavros, a former Initiative soldier who was high enough to get Riley the help he needed. But the marine that Stavros had ordered to help Riley wasn’t the brightest light and now, hours after Riley had given the guy Anya’s name, they still hadn’t gotten anywhere.

Riley leaned back in his chair and looked out the window separating his office from the command center. Ten men sat at consoles monitoring maps of Sunnydale and the surrounding areas. A satellite image comprising parts of California, Nevada, Arizona and Mexico was projected on a huge screen that made up an entire wall. Every time Riley walked into the room he felt like he was in the movie “War Games” and that the computer would start playing Tic Tac Toe. If he hadn’t been so irritated, he would have laughed. An exercise in futility. Not exactly the fire fights and bloody battles he had become accustomed to over the past year, although if this stuff kept up, someone’s blood would definitely be shed.

He turned back to the desk wondering what the hell he was doing. He could have assigned some underling to take care of all this. But then he would have had to admit that he really didn’t give a damn about his clearance; he was just trying to ignore the fact that after traveling the world twice over and exterminating a couple of armies’ worth of demons, here he was, back in some UCSD science building, behind four locked doors and eight armed men, trying to bypass official channels, worried about a girl.

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

“I’m o.k. Really.” Buffy looked away as she tried to ignore the fearful look in Willow’s eyes. “Please, just go make more.”

Willow nodded and backed out of Buffy’s bedroom, closing the door behind her. She nearly screamed as she backed up into Xander. “Sorry. Just a little jump-” she said, turning to him, instinctively reaching her hand out to him as he winced in pain. “Xander, are you…?”

“How is she?” Xander replied, cutting Willow off.

Willow gave him a look. “About the same as she was downstairs, but not so much with the ‘kill, kill’ thing going on.”

Xander’s face was grim. “And you?” They walked down the hall slowly, Xander trying not to limp.

“Peachy. But I didn’t get pushed down a flight of stairs.”

Or hit with a frying pan in the face, not to mention some decent sized Slayer blows, Xander thought. “Takes a lickin’…”

They walked downstairs and into the living room where Tara was sitting with Dawn. Willow went to Dawn to give her a hug, but Dawn tensed and stood up, moving over to the entryway to the front hall.

Willow sighed and said, “I need to go back to the campus to make some more of the antidote. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“How long, exactly?” asked Dawn, her arms folded against her chest.

“I’m not sure. Maybe an hour? I know how to do it now. It won’t take as long as last time.”

“Are you all going?” Dawn said in an accusing tone.

Xander glanced at Willow before replying. “No worries. I’ll just run to the magic shop and get the puffy suit. Then I’m total protector man.” He attempted to raise his arm and flex his muscles but doubled over instead, clutching his side. Dawn and Willow rushed over to him and led him to the chair as he muttered, “Ow. Pain now.”

“O.k. then. Plan B,” said Willow. She looked up at Tara. “Can you get him to the hospital? Take Dawn with you?” Tara nodded.

Xander protested weakly, “No. Really. I can stay. Buffy shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Maybe not,” said Willow, “but you’re not doing so well either. We need reinforcements."

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

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. This is real.

Buffy kept repeating the words to herself, a mantra for sanity, trying to shut out the needling voices that were no longer coming from a doctor or her parents, but instead from deep within her.

Poison. A demon’s poison. That’s all it was. This emptiness…

No! No emptiness. Start again. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

She was exhausted and it was hard to keep her mind from wandering. She had given up looking at the pictures because it kept reminding her of how things used to be. Not anything like now. Had she really ever been happy in Sunnydale? Had any of that been real?

This is real. This is real. This is real…

She sat up as the door opened, looking hopefully at Willow.

“Sorry, haven’t left yet.” Willow walked in and came over to the bed. She tentatively sat on the edge and tried to smile. “Here’s the plan. I’m heading over to the lab and Tara and Dawn are taking Xander to the hospital.”

Buffy closed her eyes and put her hand to her head. “Xander. Is he…?”

Willow cut her off, saying in an overly cheerful tone, “Fine. A-o.k. Just needs a little TLC. So we were thinking that we’d get Spi-”

“No!” There was panic in Buffy’s voice as she reached out to Willow. She pulled her hand away when Willow flinched. Buffy forced herself to sound calm as she said, “Not Spike. I don’t want to see Spike right now.”

“Ummm, o.k. Not Spike,” Willow said, obviously trying to be reassuring. “We’ll think of something else.”

Buffy nodded and looked away. She couldn’t be reminded of the darkness right now. She needed light. There had to be light somewhere in this damn tunnel.

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

Riley looked up at the knock on the door. A private handed him a stack of print-outs.

“More things to sign?” Riley asked, taking the pile reluctantly.

He glanced through the pages, hoping that Hellmouth duty didn’t mean phones and paperwork 24/7. They hadn’t really told him what he was supposed to be doing here, but he had expected a little more activity than sitting on hold and signing his name over and over again. He realized the guy was still standing there. “What’s your name? Paxton? Give me a few minutes. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

He didn’t remember the soldiers looking so young last time around. This guy looked like he hadn’t even started shaving yet. Riley wondered when he had gotten to be so old. He grabbed a pen and started signing.

About halfway through the stack, his cell phone rang, startling him. Not a lot of people had that number. “Finn.” He smiled when he heard Willow’s voice. “Hey there…Yeah, the first week has been, well, I guess it could have been more interesting. What’s up?” He listened as Willow told him about the demon’s poison and what had just happened at the house.

“She did what?” he asked, standing up and closing the door when three of the men turned around at his outburst. “Are you guys alright? Is she o.k.? … Sure, I’m on my way.”

Willow definitely did not sound happy. Who could blame her? It had been awhile since he had been on the receiving end of one of Buffy’s punches, but he could still remember the bruises. Even with her holding back.

Riley pulled his jacket on, thankful that being under the cover of the National Forestry Service meant shirt, tie, and sports jacket, not Army fatigues. Changing out of those things always took longer than it should. He jammed the unsigned papers into his bag and left his office, handing the finished ones to Paxton. “You’ll have to wait for the rest.” The nice thing about being one of the guys in charge was that he didn’t need to give any excuses. “Call me if you need me. I’ll check in when I can.”

As he passed through the second and third checkpoints, it did occur to him that this was a familiar scene – dropping everything to be by Buffy’s side. Been there, done that. Bad ending.

But that had been different. An amazing summer that gave way to an aimless fall of playing pick-up basketball and tagging along when Buffy decided to call, leaving too much time on his hands. Way too much time to think about all the ways in which he didn’t quite measure up. And too much time to screw up the things he had right. Definitely different, he thought, deliberately ignoring the fact that if his future in Sunnydale didn’t hold much more than signing forms and sitting at a desk… Better not to think of that.

He passed through the last security door and into an official looking office with government emblems hanging alongside pictures of politicians on the wall. Out into the outer office where he waved at the secretary who reminded him of his Mom’s bridge partner and finally into the hallway they shared with the freshman botany labs.

Mazes of hallways, reams of paper, and fruitless phone calls. His heart in his throat at the thought of seeing Buffy. Not the best start to his second tour of Sunnydale.

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

Fifteen minutes later, Riley was at Buffy’s house. The door opened before he had a chance to knock. Willow said, “Thanks for coming. With Buffy being all weird about Spike …”

“No problem.” Although he couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

“I don’t know. She got a little freaked when I said we’d get him to come over again,” Willow said. She hastily added, “Not that we didn’t think of you! I mean, we didn’t, but only because you weren’t here for so long. I mean, it wasn’t like we thought Spike would be better or anything. It’s just that he’s been helping a lot. I mean, he totally came through with Glory and last summer and now that Buffy’s back he’s around all the time. Not that there’s anything going on with them, I mean, it is Spike after all.” Could she possibly say ‘I mean’ one more time? Willow had no idea why she was babbling. “But everything was fine when he was here earlier. Until, of course, Buffy decided we were evil and needed to be destroyed. But Spike had nothing to do with that. For once.”

Clearly, one of the things he had missed was that Spike was now a candidate for sainthood. But Riley did appreciate that Willow was trying to make him feel better about the whole Spike thing. She wasn’t doing too well, but it was the thought that counted. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t somehow get him into trouble so he chose the silent route and just nodded.

Aware that she was not only over-explaining, but also wasting time, Willow said, “I need to get to campus.”

Riley held out the keys to his car. “Would this help? You can park pretty much anywhere.”

“Great. Yeah. Thanks.” Willow grabbed them and rushed down the walkway.

Riley walked in the front door to see Dawn standing there at the foot of the stairs.

“Hi,” Dawn said.

He reached a hand out to her. “Hey,” he said gently, “you o.k.?”

She shrugged, fighting the urge to dissolve into tears. Unsuccessfully.

Riley pulled her into a hug, waiting until she had calmed down a bit before asking, “She upstairs?”

Dawn nodded.

“I’m just going to check on her. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.” He squeezed Dawn’s shoulder before slowly heading up the stairs to Buffy’s bedroom.

He stood outside the door for a minute, visions of the last night he was here all too clear in his mind – the last time they had made love, the look on her face when she saw him in that house, how angry she had been. This last week had been better than he had any right to expect, but he was just waiting for the veil to come back down.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there when he heard her voice from inside.

“Willow? Is that you?”

Riley hesitated before opening the door; forced himself to do it before he lost his nerve. He peeked his head in. “You up for visitors?” He tried to keep the shock out of his voice as she looked up. She didn’t look like Buffy. Her eyes were dull; she seemed dead inside.

“Riley.” Her voice was flat.

He walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge. “Willow called. She asked me to come.” He felt a need to explain why he was here, in her room.

She looked down at her hands and then up at him. “You’re not afraid.”

“Of?” he asked.

“Of me,” she said, leaning her head back. “You should be. I hurt people. But I guess you already knew that.”

He reached a hand to her hair, pushing it back off her forehead; his heart breaking at the pain in her eyes. Her skin was so hot. “It was poison, Buffy. That’s not you.”

“Because I’m the hero, right?” She spat the words out. “I’m the good one.” She looked up at him again, seeing him as if for the first time but with the whole backstory.

“The good one,” she murmured, wondering why she had never noticed that he was a bit too perfect. Almost as though he had been created in her imagination to be everything that Angel wasn’t. All of the good qualities of the ones who came before him: Owen’s boyish enthusiasm; Tom’s commanding frat boy; Scott’s earnest goodness and Parker without the disappearing act. All tied up in one Riley package. It had taken her awhile to get it right.

But then she had to bring in the vampires. Another screw-up. It was better when the guy she loved was the vampire instead of someone who got off on being bitten by one. Like her.

No, she thought, shaking her head, her hands covering her ears against unheard voices. That’s not the way it was. Is. That’s the way the doctor would have explained it. He would have said that the only way she could have normal was if it were backed up by something fantastic – like a huge underground secret military lab that collected demons. Which, of course, she would take down with some mystical spell. How ridiculous was that? But not quite as ridiculous as driving him away. Someone who loved her so much he would give up everything. Because if she had created him and let him stay, then she might have been happy. Couldn’t have that.

“Back in the dark. Where I belong.” Her words were bitter as she pushed his hand away.

“You don’t belong…” Riley stopped himself. He could practically see her mind working. He couldn’t imagine what that internal conversation was about, but logic wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “This is the fever talking. Willow will be back soon and this will be over.”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she stared out the window, almost wishing she could go back to the world where other people took care of things. Wondering if she would ever be able to look at her friends without questioning if they were real. If they would ever be able to look at her without flinching.

“When will it be over?” she asked angrily. “When I’ve driven them all away? Or better yet, killed them?”

“Buffy, you don’t mean that. You’re not-”

She cut him off. “They should have left me dead.” She was so tired of trying to understand why she was this way. Tired of being beaten down over and over again.

Riley watched her closely. “This is more than the demon,” he said, grabbing her hand. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But you’re not alone here. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“They don’t understand.”

“Oh, I see. ‘Cause you tried to tell them, right? You didn’t shut them out or anything. God, Buffy, just give them a chance.” He stood up abruptly. He hadn’t meant for that to come out so harshly. He was heading in a direction loaded with landmines and this was definitely not the time to have that conversation. “Sorry. Not really helping. Is there anything you need right now? I’m gonna go check on Dawn.”

Buffy shook her head. The tears had stopped and she was back to that empty place again. Not a good place to be. She said softly, “Don’t take too long.”

He leaned down and brushed her cheek with his hand, making a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but not quite getting there. She seemed so sad and he felt so inadequate. Again.

After leaving the room, he stopped for a minute in the hallway, leaning his head against the wall. Way to go, Finn. Not exactly calm, cool, and collected. He walked downstairs and, hearing noises coming from the kitchen, headed in that direction. As he walked in, Dawn was grabbing something out of the fridge.

“Cookie dough. Chocolate chip,” she said, handing him a spoon.

“Is that dinner?” he asked, smiling. “Sure. Why not,” he said, sitting on the stool next to her.

“So did she try and attack you, too? You look kinda pale.”

“Nope. No attacks. Just a little weird to be back,” he said, not what you would call thrilled at how easily that had slipped out.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe she’ll start smiling again,” Dawn said, eating a huge spoonful of dough.

He tried not to be too happy that Dawn had said that. “From what I hear, this wasn’t much of a year for smiling.”

“So you’re making excuses, too? She wasn’t the only one with a bad year,” she said, clearly irritated, “but she doesn’t even try. And everyone tiptoes around her, trying not to make her cry. Even Spike is all different around her. But she stays all mopey and broody and wishing she were dead. I’m surprised she even wants the stuff Willow’s making. I bet she’d rather stay in that hospital.”

Riley wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that so he just stayed quiet, watching her as he ate the cookie dough. He got up and poured some milk into a couple of glasses, pushing one toward her as he sat down again.

“Thanks,” Dawn said, taking a sip. “And thanks for not being all patronizing and telling me that she doesn’t still want to be dead.”

“Sure.” He grinned. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think she still wants to be dead.” He shrugged when Dawn glared at him. “Sorry. I just can’t believe that.”

“You mean you don’t want to believe it.”

There was more truth to that than he cared to admit. “Maybe, but so what?” he asked, finishing off his glass of milk in one long swallow. He got up to put the glass in the sink.

Dawn was watching him intently. “Did you want to be dead? Is that why you let the vampires bite you?”

The glass slipped from his hand but he caught it before it fell to the floor as another voice chimed in.

“Yes, do tell. What exactly were you thinking?”

Riley turned to see Spike standing in the doorway.

“Spike,” Dawn said, startled to see him there. She could feel the sudden tension as Riley and Spike eyed each other. She jumped up eagerly as the phone rang, answering, “Janice. Hi. Yeah, I think I’m gonna stay here tonight after all…” Her voice faded as she took the phone into the next room, glancing back at them as she left the kitchen.

Riley leaned back against the sink as he said, “You know, it’s only been a week and I’m already tired of you. Don’t you have anything better to do than hang around here?”

“I could say the same for you,” Spike replied. “And don’t you look nice all dressed up with that tie.” Spike came over to Riley, tightening the knot and brushing an imaginary piece of lint off Riley’s shoulder. “Bet it hides the scars quite nicely.”

Riley knocked Spike’s hand away. He loosened the tie and pulled it off; unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt. “Nothing to hide, Spike. Everyone knows my nasty secret. I’m an open book. I don’t see you coming out of the shadows, though. Still sneaking around? Not quite respectable enough to be let out when company comes?”

“Oh, the boy went and found himself a mean streak down in the jungle. Don’t worry. I get it. You think you’ll be warming her sheets again soon. You really think she’ll take you back? I wouldn’t be so sure – she tends to like things a bit darker these days. Rough and bloody. Seems to like it when I make her scream. Guess she’s not such a good girl after all.”

Riley caught himself before he threw the punch, but just barely. Riley knew that – unlike Parker – Spike’s intention had been to piss him off. It had worked, but he tried to keep his voice under control as he said, “Is that what you told her, Spike? Playing off that poison seems low, even for you. I’m surprised you didn’t stay around to see the fireworks. Or did you want her to come running to you when it was all done?”

Spike took a step back. He had braced himself for the physical punch, but the blunt force behind the words surprised him. He had no idea what Riley was talking about. “After what was all done?”

“After she killed them. Like you wanted her to.”

“Killed who?” Spike's face showed genuine confusion. “The demon?”

Riley leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest, studying Spike, not totally believing the innocent act. “Dawn. Willow. Xander.”

“Little sis? And Red?” Spike hiked himself up on the counter opposite Riley. “If it were you, I’m your guy. But I like the little bits. All sweet and cuddly. Wasn’t anything I said. She may not be eager to share the wonderful news, but I hardly think she’d kill them all to avoid it.”

“Then what did you do since this afternoon that makes her not want to see you?”

“She never wants to see me. But she can’t help it. It’s in her blood. I shouldn’t have to explain it to you – I’m sure you know all about that. Bloodlust – a good word, don’t you think?”

“Blood-lust,” Riley said slowly. “Definitely a good word, but a little more appropriate for someone who’s just aching for a nice, throbbing vein to sink their teeth into.” He took a step closer to Spike and cocked his head to the side, exposing his neck. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Do you miss it? Can you still feel the blood flowing? Or did the chip neuter you completely?”

Spike smiled and said, “Tsk, tsk. Treading on dangerous ground, aren’t you?” His voice went cold. “‘Cause, you know, once you’ve had it, you always want it. It’s why you never quite satisfied Buffy and it’s why I could drain you right now and never feel so much as a twinge up here.” Spike pointed to his head as he barked out a laugh. The chances of being able to bite the boy without the massive migraine were probably zero to none. “Or maybe not, but it’d be mighty interesting to find out.”

Riley wasn’t entirely sure Spike was wrong – he could feel his heart race at the thought that Spike might actually go for it. But he didn’t think the rush he was feeling was in anticipation of the bite itself; he thought it had more to do with the fact that he had something Spike wanted. Something that was almost as important to Riley as what he had let slip through his fingers a year ago: life, in the form of the blood coursing through his veins. And maybe death, too, thanks to the stake tucked into his waistband.

The rush. The way the girl would clutch at his body – tentatively at first, as if grateful for the gift of warm, fresh blood – but harder and stronger as the blood started to flow. A connection unlike any other – the essence of life passed from one being to another. And the specter of death hovering over them – his, if he let her go too far; hers, if he gave in to his instinct and thrust the stake into the heart that should be pulsing with life. The rest of the world ceasing to exist.

The rush. The surge of adrenaline he felt every time he faced another demon. Yearning for the moment when he could throw down his weapon and come at it with his bare hands. Seeing the blood flow down his arms as he tore flesh from bone. Accepting the letdown as the creature fell and knowing that he wouldn’t feel quite so alive again until the next kill. Life. Death. Black. White.

And a hell of a lot of gray. “The only thing I want from you, Spike, is a reason to kill you,” Riley said, reaching behind him for his stake, even though he knew he should stop this whole conversation; the longer it went on, the greater the likelihood of Buffy coming down to find either a corpse or a kitchen filled with dust.

“First soldier I’ve ever met that needed an excuse to kill,” Spike said coolly, jumping down off the counter and taking a step forward.

“First vampire I’ve ever met that let a headache get in his way,” Riley replied, pushing off the counter.

Their faces were only inches apart.

“Hear that?” Spike asked. “It’s not my heart pounding, ‘cause it doesn’t work that way. But I wonder what it is that’s got you so hot and bothered? Staking me? Or me biting you?” His face morphed into bumps and fangs. He was so bleedin’ tired of the boy groupies. Fuck the pain. “Care to make a wager who comes out on top? Winner takes all.” He pushed Riley back against the cabinet, his fangs closing in on Riley’s neck.

Sandy was the only one Riley had ever let bite his neck – too much loss of control and too personal. Her body pinning his, her hands running down his arms, her lips at his neck – until that first bite, he had thought the thing with Angel and Dracula was all about sex, with a little danger thrown in for fun. He hadn’t understood that primal, gut-wrenching need – a burning, aching desire for feeling the world come alive with every look, every breath, every touch. Or at least he hadn’t understood that that was what Buffy had been missing – what she did for him; what his blood did for the vampires.

Once he understood, even that stopped being enough. Because that last night, even as he ordered the girl to bite harder and harder, he felt nothing. No excitement, no desire, and no fear as she drained more and more blood from his body. Until there was almost nothing left.

And later, when he had wanted a sign from Buffy that some part of her still cared, he had suddenly realized that it wasn’t just his blood that had been drained, it was his very desire to live. At a time when Buffy needed so much, he had nothing left to give. That was the moment he knew he had to leave, and, ultimately, it was what had saved his life. And as much as he hated to admit it, he probably owed all that to Spike who had not only stopped him from being bitten into oblivion that night, but had put the whole train of salvation in motion by bringing Buffy to that door.

The fact that this was flashing through Riley’s mind seemed incredibly ironic, given that Spike was now about to sink his teeth into Riley’s neck with the intention of making any further thought unnecessary. As Spike’s teeth made contact with Riley’s skin, Riley brought his shoulder up to Spike’s jaw and his knee to Spike’s groin.

Spike expected the pain. He was ready for the blinding pain in his head as fangs met skin. But this time, he thought, he would feed off the fire; would let it build until his hatred and loathing of this man transcended any barrier the chip erected. And even knowing that there was so much more at risk than either of their lives, Spike ached to taste the salty skin as the bite grew deeper, to feel the surge of power as the blood filled his throat, to smell the fear as his prey realized it was about to be annihilated.

But there was no fear. Only pain. No shock giving way to a weak protest before the final surrender. Only a body moving forcefully against him, and yet another painful sensation. A sudden shift of control as he was slammed back against the cabinet, a wooden point dangerously close to piercing his skin.

“We don’t do this here. Not in her house,” Riley hissed, slamming Spike backwards one more time for good measure. He let go of Spike’s collar and took a step back, surprised at how hard it was to breathe all of a sudden. He looked up to see Dawn coming back into the kitchen.

“What's going on in here?” she said, phone in hand, her voice trailing off as she noticed the looks on their faces and how close they were standing.

There was a moment of silence before Spike said, “Couldn’t let him finish the cookie dough, now, could I?”

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

After ten minutes of incredibly awkward conversation, Riley left the kitchen

There were very few positives to being one of the select few who knew the whole Buffy-was-sleeping-with-Spike deal. One of them, however, was that everyone - Dawn included - seemed to think it made more sense for Riley to be visiting Buffy's bedroom than it did for Spike. Riley had no intention of letting them know otherwise.

He walked up the stairs slowly, realizing how close they had come to making Buffy even more unhappy than she was, if that was even possible given her current state. He knocked on the door and entered Buffy’s room. “Hi. Dawn sent ice cream.”

She had been staring dully out the window. She smiled weakly and took it from his hands. “Thank you.”

He sat down on the bed. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head, but reached her hand out to him. She turned to look out the window again as he took it.

Willow found them sitting like that when she returned with the antidote half an hour later. “I made extra this time,” she said, handing Buffy the mug. “Just in case.”

Buffy stared at it, knowing that by taking a sip, she was saying goodbye to that other world for good. She looked up at Willow, standing there, as always, the best friend she could possibly ask for; at Riley, who had gotten up and was now standing by the window, unable to hide the concern in his eyes; and at Dawn, hovering in the doorway, holding back, managing to look both incredibly worried and supremely pissed off at the same time. Buffy looked back at the cup, grimacing as she lifted it to her mouth and drank from it.

She forced herself to finish it all in one long gulp, gagging at the taste of it, and starting to tremble as soon as it was gone. She dropped the mug and felt a sudden rush of blood to her head; she bent over, holding her head in her hands.

Riley was suddenly at her side, grabbing her and holding her steady as she shook. He said to Willow, “It’s o.k. I’ve seen this before.” Never quite so quickly, but Willow didn’t need to know that. “After quarantine, when someone was infected. It usually stops after a few hours.” He didn’t mention that restraints and Haldol usually came into play; he was hoping that the Slayer strength and healing powers meant that those things would be unnecessary, especially seeing as Buffy probably didn’t have anything like that handy.

“A few hours?” Dawn asked, horrified. Willow stood there in shock.

“It looks worse than it is. It means it’s working. Willow,” Riley said sternly, trying to get her attention without letting go of Buffy. “She’s going to be o.k. Really.”

Willow nodded, still shaken. The instructions about the antidote hadn’t said anything about this part.

“Dawn,” he said, giving up on Willow, “take Will downstairs. Give her some of that cookie dough, o.k.?” He smiled as though everything were fine. “Just don’t fight Spike for it. He gets nasty.”

That got a nervous laugh out of Dawn and she came into the room far enough to grab Willow’s arm and pull her into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

“Very… commandery.” Buffy gasped before burrowing her head into Riley’s chest. She clutched at his shirt, clenching her hands as a spasm of pain came over her. “It… gets… better?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as he tightened his arms around her, trying to keep her as still as possible. He let her use his body as a release – his chest muffling her cries of pain, his hands and arms turning red and raw as she squeezed and scratched them. She tried to joke her way through the first few episodes of convulsions, but eventually gave up any attempt at conversation and just tried to ride out the pain.

She was relieved when the shaking gradually eased, but it was soon replaced by waves of chills making her so cold that every blanket in the house piled on top of her, plus Riley’s warmth surrounding her, barely stopped her teeth from chattering so loudly she was sure Dawn could hear it across the hall.

The chills alternated with night sweats making her so hot that the only thing she could stand to have touching her was the ice cold towel that Riley held to her forehead and the back of her neck. These gave way to room spinning and bouts of nausea before exhaustion finally overcame her and she fell into a restless sleep.

A couple hours later, Buffy awoke with a start to find Riley sitting in a chair, his chin resting on his chest, a stack of papers slowly sliding off his lap. His legs were stretched out and he had propped his feet up on the bed. She vaguely remembered him moving there around the time Xander had come in to check on her – during that last hot flash. She looked around her room, grateful for the certainty that she was home, feeling oddly at peace – the memory of the visions was still there but the anguish of the emotions had faded.

Reaching down for the comforter that she had kicked to the edge of the bed, she pulled at it gently, not wanting to disturb Riley, and brought it up to her shoulder. She lay there, watching him sleep.

She used to do that a lot, especially during that summer together – a summer filled with playing on the beach, long drives, and making love under the stars. She wondered briefly if those memories were made up and decided that if they were than she had at least gotten something right. She smiled at the thought of those seemingly carefree months and was surprised when he smiled in return. “Riley?” she whispered.

His eyes opened as he sat up straight, instinctively reaching out for her. “Buffy?” he asked anxiously, relief coming over his face when he saw she was smiling.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sitting up, “I thought you were awake.” She felt a little guilty for waking him up, but was glad he hadn’t caught her staring.

“No. Must’ve been dreaming,” he said, thankful that in the light of the one lamp she probably couldn’t see him blushing. The dreams hadn’t exactly been ready for prime time. He strategically rearranged the papers that were still on his lap and changed the subject. “Feeling better?”

“Much. So that’s what Linda Blair felt like.”

“‘Exorcist’ references. Definitely better.”

“Willow…?”

“She went to bed about an hour ago. I was able to convince her that you’d be good as new tomorrow morning.”

“Right. Good as new,” she said unconvincingly.

“Buffy,” he said, leaning forward, suddenly afraid to touch her, “I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve been going through. I know how long that road is. But you…you don’t belong in that dark place. You know that, right? You’re so much better than that.” It was finally safe to add the papers to the stack on the floor. He dropped the papers and reached for his shoes, which he had kicked off earlier.

“Are you going?” she asked, a touch of panic in her voice. “I mean, are you sure some weird space monster isn’t going to come out of my stomach or anything?”

“Wow. ‘Alien’ too.” He smiled. “I think the worst is over. You don’t need me here taking up space.”

She reached a hand out to him, aiming for his arm, but getting his thigh instead. They both jumped and she pulled her hand away quickly, feeling flustered. “Sorry… I… Um, Riley?” she asked, looking down, very busily straightening the blankets.

“Yes, Buffy?” he replied, slightly amused at her reaction. Glad she hadn’t noticed his.

“I know that I said I needed time. And I do,” she added hurriedly, “but this was a really bad day and it’s not that much longer until morning and since you’re already here...”

“You’re babbling.” He said, smiling.

“Right. Babbling.” She answered. She squared her shoulders, and looked him in the eye, opening her mouth to say something; narrowing her eyes as she saw his grin.

“You’re going to make me beg?” she asked, holding up the covers, inviting him in.

“Never,” his voice breaking as he said the word.

“I won’t try anything. I promise,” she said as she slid over, making room.

He dropped the shoe back on the floor and hesitated not nearly as long as he knew he should before climbing in next to her.

“Could you hold me? Please?” she asked, sounding like a lost little girl. She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she snuggled up against him.

As he wrapped his arms around her, he tried to convince himself that there was nothing different here. He had been holding her for most of the night anyway and that had all been perfectly innocent.

“Riley?”

“Mmmm?”

“Wasn’t I wearing more than a tank top and my underwear before?”

Perfectly innocent. “You were really hot. I mean, in a heat kind of way. I was really gentlemanly.”

It was quiet for a few minutes before she said again, “Riley?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to sleep in your shirt and pants, you know. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.”

There was no way he could hide his reaction to that one, not with her lying so close against him. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he grumbled in response.

She waited a few more minutes. “Ri-”

“Good night, Buffy.”

“Good night.” She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

THE END

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Posted April 4, 2002.