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The sun was peeking over the horizon when Buffy woke up. She turned to face Riley. "Are you awake?"

"I like sleeping with you," he mumbled, refusing to open his eyes. "Emphasis on *sleeping*."

"Please?" she asked, pulling down the covers, not leaving him much of a choice. "Come for a run with me. Then we can go out to breakfast. I promise I'll make it worth your while," she said, giving him a hint of just how she would go about doing it.

Several hours later, sitting in an office with Jessica Cain and a man she had just been introduced to, Buffy was glad she had succeeded in convincing Riley to get up early, especially because she knew that at this very moment he was probably still lying naked in their bed, sound asleep again, not having anything he needed to do until he met up with Graham at lunchtime. And she was stuck here.

She forced herself to chase those thoughts out of her head as Jessica stopped making small talk with the man. A man who was incredibly handsome. Pretty, almost - in the way Parker had been. Jet black hair and deep blue eyes. Mid- to late- thirties with a smile just a little too wide, teeth just a little too white. The body underneath the sports coat and tie clearly belonged to an athlete; given what Buffy knew about him, she figured he spent a lot of time hiking and canoeing in the park they were about to discuss.

"Harry has amassed an incredible collection in the time he's been there," Jessica added. "The artifacts from the indigenous cultures alone are beyond compare. Amazing for someone so young."

"Jess is one of my biggest fans. She's been incredibly supportive of our work," Harry said to Buffy. "So - Buffy, was it?"

Buffy nodded, ignoring the faint mocking tone in his voice. When she first started working with Angel and having actual business meetings, she had begun introducing herself as Elizabeth in order to avoid the "Buffy" factor. After about a week, she'd decided that was a stupid idea - first of all, because there was just no way in hell she was an Elizabeth; but mostly because if people could handle working with someone named Angel, they could certainly manage Buffy. By now she had gotten used to the condescending reaction, and, depending on the situation, she sometimes even played it up.

"How long have you been in this line of work?" Harry asked. "Forgive me for saying so, but you weren't exactly what we had expected."

Now that was irritating. Not that in twenty years of slaying she hadn't gotten used to that reaction as well, but from Jessica and her boy toy - please. They were paying clients, however.

"I get that a lot," she said, not feeling a need to defend her qualifications. She wasn't surprised, though, when Jessica pushed the issue.

Buffy knew there was no reason to be quite so nit-picky, and she really had tried to form her own opinion of this woman, but even after the brief time they had spent together, Buffy decided she didn't like Jessica any more than Angel, Riley, or Graham did.

Jessica looked at Buffy coldly before continuing. "Very well. As I mentioned to Angel, Mr. Miller can be very difficult. And, having spent his entire career in the military, he's used to people following orders. Will you be able to manage someone like that?"

Jessica and Harry seemed to be deliberately avoiding the use of Graham's and Riley's official titles. Probably did the same thing in person, thinking that it would throw the "career" military men off their game. Little did they know that neither man gave a damn.

Buffy met Jessica's gaze with a steely one of her own. "Sorry," she said. "It's classified."

With a glance towards Jessica, Harry leaned forward, deliberately breaking the icy stare between the two women. "There are physical demands as well," he said to Buffy. "You'll probably be out there for a few weeks at least. The only modes of travel are foot, bike, and boat. And probably not even bike, because you still have to carry all your gear."

"Considering you'll be accompanying Miller's team," Jessica said, "you'll also most likely be the only woman. Will that make you uncomfortable? If so, it might be better if Angel were the one going in."

"As I believe he made clear, Angel will not be leaving L.A.," Buffy replied. With a saccharine sweet smile she said, "And I have absolutely no qualms about either the physical demands or the atmosphere. I can handle myself." Time to get this conversation moving. "Could we discuss what my role is on this job?"

After another hour of listening to Jessica and Harry speak, it was clear to Buffy that Riley had been right. She had no role except to serve as a thorn in Graham's side. And even then, there was nothing Jessica actually wanted her to actively do, just be a presence reminding Graham and Riley that Jessica had enough pull to make things difficult.

Not that that's what was said, of course. Instead, there was a lot about the case and how the "government boys" had gotten nowhere, even though they'd had plenty of time. There were subtle insinuations about Graham and Riley. Nothing outright, Jessica had enough political experience to stay on the right side of slander - but damaging enough that someone who didn't know either man would have serious questions about their capabilities.

In fact, that seemed to be one of the primary objectives of this meeting. The other seemed to be for Buffy to trust Harry. If it had been Angel on the job, Jessica probably would have been the one picking up the lunch tab with kind smiles and touches that were a little too friendly. Buffy had been amused when Jessica left lunch early to give Harry and Buffy a chance to "*really* get to know each other." Since they'd be working together so closely.

She had been less amused when Harry led her into the conference room where they'd be meeting with Riley, Graham, and the others, guiding her by the elbow and holding her chair out as she sat down. Moving his chair close and resting his hand next to hers as people started to filter in, he leaned in closely to whisper names as everyone took their seats, making it look like a much more intimate relationship than it actually was.

Perilously close to laying him flat, Buffy was glad when everyone's attention was drawn to the door as Riley and Graham walked in, followed by a third man who must be Bobby Sprague. Riley had mentioned that he was the soldier who'd be leading the team into the Park.

Buffy sat back in her chair, surprised to see them in full dress, badges and patches adorning the uniforms, pins flashing in the light as they sat down. The intimidation factor was cut only slightly by the memory of Riley pleading as he lay beneath her, only hours before.

Of course, she was the only one privy to that vision, and something about the way they carried themselves took over the room, despite the fact that it was filled with representatives from the enemy camp. The presence the three commanded as a united front made the men in suits shift in their seats as they straightened their ties; the few women in the room self-consciously put their hands to their hair as they checked to make sure every strand was in place. Jessica and Harry were not immune to this, each fidgeting a bit and glancing at the other before staring straight ahead.

It was odd to see Riley and Graham this way - hardened soldiers with blood on their hands and carnage in their eyes. Men who gave more orders than they followed, deciding issues of life and death, unquestionably and unapologetically. Buffy tried to keep her smile from showing - it was all total bull-oney, as Willow would say.

Not that they didn't have the potential to be scary - Buffy still thought the Initiative was one of the most horrifying things she had ever come across. And she had seen each of them fighting the fight, time and again putting the safety of others above their own. But if one of these people ever saw Riley or Graham with a fourteen-year-old kid, or, heaven forbid, doing that dancing thing in the end zone of a touch football game, it would be hard to take this whole situation seriously.

Clearly Riley was thinking the same thing, because he wouldn't look at her. She could see the twinkle in his eye that meant he was one step away from breaking into a huge smile. Which would be no good given that the control of this entire meeting depended on image. Over breakfast he had told her to expect fifteen, maybe twenty people, most of whom were completely unnecessary and were probably secretaries and accountants deliberately pulled to make Riley and Graham uncomfortable; throw them off with a show of force.

"Are we waiting for someone?" Graham asked, addressing Jessica and completely ignoring everyone else in the room.

"The Minister," one of the younger women finally said after Jessica took her time answering. "Of Natural Resources."

Buffy noticed the woman flinch after receiving a deathly glare from Jessica. The flinch was followed by an involuntary glance to Riley who gave the woman a quick, warm smile in return. So, Buffy thought, they had someone on the inside. She'd been wondering how Riley had known there would be so many people at this meeting.

Graham nodded and settled into his chair, relaxed and comfortable, the complete opposite of Jessica, who was sitting tensely, drumming her long fingernails on the tabletop.

"So how've you been, Jess?" Riley said, leaning back. "You make this trip from Ottawa just to see us?"

There was a hint of a smile on his face. Buffy knew that the Minister had not only decided to come to the meeting, but had required it to be held in Toronto because of his schedule. Something that had apparently completely pissed Jessica off.

Jessica gave Riley a cool smile. She was saved from answering by the Minister's arrival.

As the meeting progressed, it became clear to Buffy that the woman Riley and Graham had on the inside was the Minister's personal assistant, and that she had been helping get their message across because there seemed to be very little resistance. Originally, according to Riley, the provincial government had been incredibly reluctant to address this situation at all, although there had been some headway. The "headway" was now turning into results, with most of Graham's requests being agreed to without hesitation.

By the end of the day, the extraneous people had disappeared, and the details had been mostly hammered out. Two teams of eight would be allowed into the Park and they would be allowed some weapons, including tasers and pistols. No blasters, but enough firepower to make Graham happy. The teams would each be assigned a guide and accompanied by Buffy and Harry, something else that Graham had no objections to. Graham and Riley would have access to the complete records from the case, as well as permission to contact all the people who had been involved, including the policemen who conducted the interviews. A few more minor things and the meeting had been concluded.

Buffy could feel the chill come over the room the moment the words were out. She noticed Riley glance over as Graham stood up.

"I spoke with a friend down in Washington," Jessica continued. "General Cutting? I believe you know him? Report to him, in fact."

Riley's and Graham's eyes were unreadable. Buffy sat back against the table, watching and waiting.

"He agreed with me that this was a very delicate operation," Jessica said. "One in which - no offense intended, Major Sprague - we would all feel much more comfortable if it were led by a more experienced soldier."

Jessica smiled sweetly and turned to Riley. "Mr. Finn, I do believe you'd be ideal for this situation."

Buffy didn't realize her mouth had dropped open until Graham had started talking.

"Sorry, Graham," Jessica said. "Deal is already done. Riley goes in or everything we discussed today is off the table."

Graham was clearly at a loss for words. Riley hadn't said anything, but instead was leaning back against the wall, watching the exchange. Buffy knew she shouldn't say anything - she was supposed to be on Jessica's side, but.

Jessica cut her off without as much as a glance. "Ms. Summers, this is not your concern."

Riley's eyes had locked with Jessica's. He said, "We'll need you to send over everything you have concerning the investigation. And let the police know that we'll be meeting with them tomorrow."

"They're expecting you at nine," she said smugly. "And the files will be at your hotel tonight." Jessica turned to leave the room, Harry two steps behind. Her hand on the door, she stopped, "I'd like Ms. Summers to accompany you as you proceed."

"Good," Jessica said. "Ms. Summers, it's been a pleasure meeting with you. We'll speak again tomorrow." With a curt nod to Riley and Graham, she left the room.

"Buffy," Harry said, taking her hand and shaking it, lingering a bit too long before letting go. "I'm looking forward to working with you." He barely acknowledged the others as he left.

Riley sat down once Jessica and Harry had left the room. "Seems like you've made a friend," he said to Buffy.

"You have to ask?" Graham said, his question addressed to Buffy, but glaring at Riley.

"You knew it was a possibility," Riley said to Graham, keeping his voice even while ignoring their questions. "Jessica already talked to Cutting. We don't really have a choice. Besides, it's my turn."

"Talk some sense into the General?" Riley asked. "Tell me the last time we ever changed his mind."

Riley leaned back. "Only because Annie was in the hospital. Even he's not that much of an asshole. Besides, three vampires. Wasn't exactly a big deal."

"Sir," Sprague said with a warning glance at Buffy, to him a civilian working for the enemy.

"Almost forgot you were there," Riley said, smiling. "Buffy, this is Bobby Sprague. He's been with us since Belize."

"A long time," Buffy said, shaking his hand. She turned back to Riley, "Certainly long enough to be leading the team all on his own."

"Do we really have to do this?" Riley asked, irritation finally showing through. He stood up. "Forty years old and you two are still watching over me," he muttered.

"Yeah, but somehow you suddenly have no problem going into the field. Think it has anything to do with the fact that Buffy'll be there?"

Riley leaned forward. "You want to just have this out here? Or should we wait 'til O'Hara's?"

"Aren't you guys a little out of practice?" Buffy said, hoping the question would ease and not exacerbate the escalating tensions. "I thought you had desk jobs."

Finally looking away from Riley, Graham said, "It happens a few times a year. We trade off." His eyes hardened as he said, "I'm sure you've noticed that Riley's picked up a few souvenirs since you last saw him."

"But your kids." Buffy said, ignoring the reference to her sex life with Riley. "How do you go out there knowing what could happen?"

"I'm not dead yet," Riley said. He headed to the door. "Is this discussion over? We have things to do."

Sprague jumped to his feet and followed Riley out of the room, leaving Buffy and Graham alone. She looked at him.

"When you say 'her' you do mean Jessica, right? I mean, we're mostly past the me-hating-you-for-taking-Riley-away and you-hating-me-for-the-way-things-ended thing, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Graham said, looking down. The grin he flashed her didn't quite meet his eyes. "Let's go."

For most of the car ride, Riley looked out the window. With Graham and Sprague in the front seat, Buffy had reached out to take Riley's hand. He had given her a quick smile and squeezed her hand, but then let go, turning away.

She leaned back against the seat. Hadn't it only been the night before that she had told herself she wouldn't let herself be afraid for him? Wouldn't try and interfere with the life he had built? So much for new, supportive Buffy. Wasn't doing that great a job so far.

"So how does this work?" she asked, letting the question hang in the air for whoever wanted to answer. "If the girlfriend is there-"

"Leslie," Buffy repeated. "If she's there. How do you know she's even going to talk to you?"

Graham glanced in the rearview mirror, looking first at Riley and then Buffy. "Riley will get her to talk. He has a way with the widows and orphans. They know he's one of them."

No one spoke another word until they pulled up to a small house on the outskirts of the city. A cute, little house, freshly painted with bright, white daisies in the garden. The look was marred by the overgrown grass and the empty beer bottles on the front porch.

It was clear where all the bottles had come from - a woman was sitting in a plastic chair with her feet up on the railing, a cold Sam Adams in her hand. Her appearance was like that of the house - good foundation, not so good upkeep. Long, vibrant red hair messily pulled back from her face. White, porcelain skin set off by deep, black circles under bloodshot eyes. Her fit, toned body barely supporting her as she shakily stood up, staring at the car.

She nodded and sat back, watching as he got out. Neither Graham nor Sprague had moved - clearly they had done this before. Buffy watched as Riley slowly made his way up the front walk. She could hear the conversation through the open car window.

Riley shook his head as she sank back into her chair. Her hand went to her trembling mouth. She waited until she regained her composure enough to speak.

Riley nodded. "I'm sorry to have been bothering you. I know this has been a horrible time."

After her voice trailed off and she started crying softly, Riley said, "I know. It's a real bitch."

She let out a laugh through her tears. "That's the first reasonable thing anyone's said to me in three weeks." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded at the car. "They send you ahead to soften me up?"

"It worked." She stood up. "Why don't you tell them to come in. I'd like to change my clothes. I'm afraid the house is a lost cause."

The house wasn't as bad as others they'd seen, but it was clear from the plates of barely touched food piled up in the sink that she hadn't eaten much.

"Should've changed into civvies before we came," Riley said, as he surveyed the mess in the kitchen. By unspoken agreement, he, Graham and Sprague took off the tops of their uniforms and draped them over the kitchen chairs.

"Are the t-shirts regulation, too?" Buffy asked, watching them go to work scraping food and washing dishes. Truly a full-service operation, she thought as Riley began pulling things out of the cabinet.

He looked over at her and held up a couple of cans of tomato sauce. "Never fails. We tend to have a lot of spaghetti dinners."

By the time Leslie came in, freshly showered and changed, the water was boiling and tomato sauce was simmering. "Oh," she said. "That smells so good. I haven't." She didn't finish her sentence, but instead went to a cupboard for dishes.

Buffy was amazed at how much the simple act of setting a table and pouring wine put the woman at ease. And once dinner was on the table, at how subtly Riley and Graham guided the conversation to innocuous topics on which everyone could comment. Their style was completely different from Angel's, but just as effective.

"Thank you," Leslie said after finishing her second plate of pasta. "I didn't realize how hungry I was." She got up to get another bottle of wine. After refilling everyone's glass, she turned to Riley and said, "I guess you want to talk about what happened."

"If we go in the living room, will you clean that up, too?" She smiled and led them into the other room, clearing some newspapers off the couch and chair and dropping them on the floor. As the others sat down, she bent down to pick a photo album off the floor. She put it on the coffee table in front of Riley.

"Daniel gave me that. The first few pictures are from the night we got engaged. It was supposed to be the prequel to the wedding album."

Leslie perched on the edge of one of the chairs. "To spread his wife's ashes. I know," she said, looking down. "Bringing your fianc�e to spread your wife's ashes. Really dumb. Or incredibly insensitive. Either way, it sounds weird."

"No," Riley said, glancing at Buffy, "it doesn't." He turned back to Leslie. "Is that why he went off alone?"

"The next day. I would have stayed in the camp longer, but we'd already been there a week and there wasn't much food left. Dan could have caught fish or figured something else out, but I'm pretty useless in that respect."

She nodded. "Pretty much. And the tent is still there with some supplies in it. In case Dan." Her voice broke. Catching her breath and looking Riley square in the eye she said, "He's dead, isn't he?"

"We're trying to find some kind of pattern. See if we can figure out why this is happening. I know this is the last thing you want to do, but it's a big help."

They went over the day her fianc� disappeared from the moment they woke up - "the most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen - red, pink, and purple" - to the minute she reported him missing. Going over the details time and again yielded nothing that hadn't been in the transcripts. Nothing that sounded unusual. And she had been so distraught during the interview at the police station that she didn't even remember the conversation had been taped, much less the machine being turned off and then on again.

"If anything comes to you," Riley said as they were leaving. He wrote his cell phone number on his business card before handing it to her. "We'll be in town for a couple more days, but you can always reach me here. And, you know, if you need to talk."

Leslie took the card, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you. For everything - dinner, maid service. Making me laugh."

He nodded and put his hand on her shoulder. "You'll get through this. It's gonna suck for a while, but you will get through."

She nodded, her hands going to her eyes and knees giving way as her tears turned to sobs. Riley caught her as she fell, and held on until she stopped crying a few minutes later.

Riley smiled. "Don't worry. It's taken a lot of tears." He turned to follow the others down the porch steps. Stopped and turned back when she spoke again.

"You remind me of him," she said, wiping her eyes. "I feel like I just hugged him good-bye." She bent down to pick up some of the empty bottles off the porch floor. "Good night." She went in the house and closed the door behind her.

Buffy answered the door eagerly, hoping it was Riley. Her face fell when she saw it was Sprague instead.

Sprague looked around the hotel room, noticing the obviously feminine clothes strewn about. He seemed amused. "I thought this was Riley's room."

"Oh," Buffy said, thinking she should come up with a response that lasted more than one syllable. "Um, yes. I guess so."

"Graham said he's never seen anyone fight the way you do," Sprague answered, still looking around. "If we have to have someone from Jessica's side, I guess I'm glad it's you."

"Oh," she said yet again. "Thanks, I think. I don't really consider myself from Jessica's side, by the way."

Buffy answered it, hoping he was wrong, but he wasn't. She looked over Graham's shoulder.

"How'd you know?" Buffy asked in surprise. After returning from Leslie's house, Riley had come up to the room to change out of his uniform and then gone right back out again. Said he needed a little night air.

Graham set two boxes on the table. "He's good with the widows, but it takes a toll." He looked at his watch. "Been about forty minutes? He should be back soon. Sprague - there's a bunch more boxes down in the Lobby. Help me out? Hopefully the luggage cart is back by now. I'll be right down."

Sprague nodded and left the room. Graham looked around, his eyes taking in the bed near the window and Buffy's open suitcase on the floor.

"Graham - is he-?" She sat down in one of the chairs. "I've never seen him like this."

Graham pulled a chair out and sat down across from her. "Yeah. I used to think it would be better if he'd just get upset or pissed off or something. That smile is a killer."

Buffy nodded. The smile Riley had given her was the saddest she had ever seen. Then a quick kiss on her forehead and he had walked out the door. "He always gets this way?"

"Yeah." He leaned forward. "He's o.k., Buffy. He works it out. You just need to give him a little space."

She ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah. O.k. I can get a new room, get a flight for first thing in the morning."

"If I knew you took orders that easily, I would have tried it out a long time ago," Graham said laughing. "I actually just meant if he needs a walk, just let him go. If he doesn't want to talk about it, don't make him. He gets around to it eventually. And - I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'd rather you stick around. Knowing that you'll be here when he gets back. I think that means a lot to him."

"You making moves on my girlfriend?" Riley asked, carrying three boxes and smiling as he came into the room.

"Just telling her to get out now if she knows what's good for her." Graham stood up. "Where's Sprague?"

"He had to drop off a couple old ladies at their room. That was the only way he could commandeer the luggage cart. You want to start on this stuff tonight?"

Graham looked at the five boxes that had already accumulated. "You know - I thought I did, but now that I see how much there is. I knew Jessica was holding stuff back from us, but this much?" He shook his head. "Right now all I'm thinking is that I want a drink. You guys up for that?"

"Hell, yeah," Sprague said, pushing a cart full of boxes into the room. "Maybe some wings."

Riley laughed. "Do you ever stop eating?" he said to Sprague. To Graham he said, "I think I'll pass."

"We'll be in the hotel bar if you change your mind," Graham said. "Breakfast at 7:30?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow," Riley answered, following Graham to the door and closing it behind him.

Buffy stood up, not sure whether or not to go to him. "Would you rather be alone? I can go with." She stopped talking as Riley walked over. Closing her eyes, she let him take her into his arms and kiss her.

"Sorry about tonight," he said after breaking away. "It just all comes rushing back - you know?"

She nodded and led him to the bed, stroking his hair and holding him until he fell asleep.

Buffy reached her arm out, expecting nice, warm Riley-ness, but instead getting cold, empty pillow. She rolled over and opened her eyes. He was sitting across the room on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. She watched as he closed the file he had been reading and added it to a stack on the floor, then leaned over to get another one out of the half-empty box.

"Couldn't sleep?" she said, sitting up and glancing at the clock. There was just enough light coming from the bathroom for him to read by; otherwise, the room was dark.

He shrugged. "Gets to be too much sometimes." He saw the puzzled look on her face and added, "The dreams."

"Oh." She got out of bed and walked over to him. "Anything I can do?" she said, sitting down.

Wishing she could think of something to make it all better, she ended up just hugging him tightly. Because, what exactly could she say? Gee, honey, I'm so sorry that your wife died a horrible death that haunts you to this day and that because of your work you're reminded of it constantly, but, hey, look at the bright side - we get to be together.

It was a few minutes before he said, "I can go down to the lobby if the light is bothering you."

She shook her head as she looked at the stack next to him. "Angel and I get some of our best work done at three-thirty in the morning. Anything good?"

She reached over to a box, pulling it towards her and opening it. Scanning the file names she said, "I think I have this stuff. Jessica sent it to me on a CD."

Riley's annoyance showed on his face. "Should have known. We don't get a lot of things in hard copy these days." Probably took more time to print it all out than it was worth. But that had its upside, too - find the disgruntled secretary who had to sit there and print it all and they'd have another friendly face to go to on the inside. He asked, "So, you've already seen it all?"

She shook her head. "I sent it to Fred." In response to Riley's questioning look she said, "She works for Angel, too. She does most of the research. Then she tells us what we need to know."

"And?" Riley finally said, after it was clear Buffy was stopping there. "What did she say?"

"Well, apart from telling me to read the transcripts you sent over, nothing yet. It's a lot of stuff to go through."

"O.k., o.k.," she said, picking up a file. "Do the autopsy reports have pictures?"

Ignoring his question, she studied a photograph. "These are the markings?" The man's arms and face were covered with black drawings. "They're like hieroglyphics." She looked more closely. "Do they come off?"

"Oh. Because Graham knows a lot more about the medical stuff than I do. We usually split up on things like this - he talks to the doctors, I talk to the police."

"Mostly through Sam - she was a doctor. She joined the Peace Corps after finishing her residency. She'd start reciting stuff when she was nervous. Or bored." Both of which tended to happen a lot on missions - sitting in some random jungle waiting for some unknown creature to attack. Not a patient one, his Sam. "She was fine once she started fighting, but she hated the down time. Graham picked up a lot."

"No," she answered, not wanting to change the subject - someday she would get him to talk about Sam in more than a throwaway line or two, but tonight clearly wasn't that time. "Willow might have, though. This is right up her alley." Buffy got up and went to her bag, pulling out her cell phone. She dialed the office number.

"Fred, hi. I didn't think anyone would be up. I was going to leave a message. Oh - you killed it? . Yeah, those things get nasty. Tell him to take it easy for a few days . Can you do a favor for me?" After talking for a few more minutes, she said good-bye and hung up the phone, putting it on the nightstand.

"Fred will email the pictures to Willow tonight." Buffy sat down again, glancing at Riley. The blush was gone, which was too bad - it looked good on him - but, on a much better note, the sadness was gone, too, replaced by a look of concentration as he continued reading through files.

An hour later, she'd made a list of the ten known victims and the four missing ones - height, weight, eye color, hair color, race, and, just for the hell of it, occupation. Of the fourteen, nine had been widowed and twelve had children. All of them were just over six feet and around two hundred pounds.

Reaching for another file, he said, "I was wondering when you were going to notice that."

"And I'm supposed to do what?" he asked, his frustration showing through as he threw the file he was reading on top of the others. "Tell Jess - sorry, I changed my mind because I fit the profile?"

"I've accused Jessica of a lot of things. Aiding and abetting a serial killer isn't one of them."

"Why did she pick you, then?" Buffy asked. "Why not send in Graham? He's the one she has it in for."

"Because she wants to watch Graham sweat. She can't do that if he's out hiking for three weeks."

"What exactly should I have said?" He stood up. "Gee, General, I know I've sent men in to their deaths before, but my girlfriend and my best friend are really worried about me so can I take a pass on this one?"

"Honestly?" he said, cutting her off as he walked across the room. "My *desk* job probably puts me in more danger than being out in the field." Rinky-dink airlines run by governments that couldn't keep the electricity on for more than two days at a time. Staffing a Command post in the midst of a war between drug lords. Epidemics of awful diseases. Anti-American sentiment running higher and higher. Not to mention the occasional stray missile.

"In the field I'm surrounded by some of the best soldiers in the world," he said, looking at Buffy as he sat down on the bed. "*The* best. Odds are good I'll be o.k."

Buffy got to her feet. "And those are the reasons you're doing this? Not because you *want* to be out there, putting yourself on the line?"

"Is there something wrong with that? That I love this job? Am I supposed to feel guilty?" He watched as Buffy sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Sam died in a helicopter crash. 'Mechanical failure.' The engine wasn't cursed. There wasn't any vampire, wasn't any demon. Just some damn piece of metal that didn't work that day. I have to live my life, Buffy. I can't do it any other way."

"I just." she said, looking down and closing her eyes. "I'm not ready to lose you again."

He reached his hand out and pulled her to him. "I'm not planning on going anywhere." His arms around her, he eased their bodies back to the bed and kissed her. Not going anywhere.

"So, autopsy reports," Graham said as the waitress refilled his coffee cup. "Anything else?"

"More interviews with family members, friends," Riley said. "A lot of background info on the Park. Some maps. Better pictures of the markings."

Riley smiled and shook his head. "Barely got through any of it. Just started opening boxes to see what was inside."

Buffy looked at Riley, expecting him to say something. When he didn't, she glared at him and started telling Graham and Sprague about the victim profiles. She wasn't surprised at the eagerness with which Riley answered his cell phone when it rang.

"Am I overreacting?" she asked Graham, watching as Riley walked out of the dining room, phone to his ear.

"It's a little too much of a coincidence, but I agree with Riley. I don't think Jessica is intentionally putting him out there to get him killed."

Sprague said, "Told you I thought that guy Daniel looked familiar." To Buffy he said, "He reminded me of Ri."

"The guy from last night?" Buffy asked, trying to remember what Leslie's fianc� had looked like. "Didn't he have blond hair?" As in platinum blond. As in distracting platinum blond that made her think of one ex, when it was the similarity to the other ex, or rather current, that she should have been noticing.

"Yeah," Sprague said, shrugging. "But there was something about him." His voice trailed off as Riley came back to the table.

Riley shrugged. "She said one of the policeman had a tattoo - a butterfly. She noticed it as they were leaving the room and mentioned it. Told him there had been tons of butterflies out that morning, more than she had ever seen."

"Doesn't exactly paralyze you with fear, does it?" Riley asked as he signaled for the check. "But someone thought it meant something."

"Barnes! Reid!" the Lieutenant roared out his office door. "Visitors!" He gestured for Riley and Buffy to take the empty chairs across from his desk and took a sip of coffee as he sat down. "So you're the spook squad."

Riley smiled. "It's not our preferred name, but yeah, you could say that. How'd you hear about us?"

"A friend of mine works up on Cape Breton. Said you helped him out a few years back. I thought it was worth a shot. You really think this is something.?" His voice trailed off. "Nah - I don't think I want to know. It's hard enough to explain away the monsters I see in this job; I'd rather not have to tell my kids there are ghosts and spirits, too. Barnes," he said as a man came to the door. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Finn and Ms. Summers. They're the people the Ambassador's office said would be coming over today." He dismissed them with a wave. "Show them a good time."

"Call me Paul," the detective said, introducing himself as they walked through the squad room. "This is Melissa. There's a coffee shop down the street. That's probably the best place to talk."

Riley wasn't entirely surprised that neither of the detectives would meet his eye - that was par for the course. The typical reactions were disbelief, hostility, or a combination of both. It hadn't been an issue the day before because the meeting was mostly about logistics, not about whether it was a demon or a ghost or some other inexplicable phenomenon causing these deaths. But once you started talking to people about the real reasons the team had been called in - that's when things got tricky.

It had been a long time since he had gone through it, but Riley could still remember the first time he had seen an actual vampire, the first demon he had killed. Finding out that all those nightmarish fairy tales and ghost stories - *stories* that had been dismissed without a second thought as he was growing up - had their roots in truth. Hell of a wake up call. And every year, seeing the shock on the faces of the new recruits when they found out what they'd actually be dealing with on a daily basis.

At times he was tempted to delegate that part of the job to Sprague or one of the other experienced men, but it was a good reminder that these weren't exactly normal things and that most people were going to have a very hard time accepting what Riley had been called in to tell them. Especially when it came to the police: men and women who were used to dealing with concrete evidence and scientific principles.

"I'm guessing you haven't been getting much support from the other detectives," Riley said as they all sat down at the table, coffees in hand.

Paul and Melissa exchanged a quick glance before Paul said slowly, "You could say that."

Buffy added, "It's very possible this is just your average psycho, you know. Happens all the time."

"The most important thing right now is to go with your gut. Forget what your head is telling you," Riley said. "If your gut says this all makes sense to you - that this is just some random crazy, then we're out of here. No harm done."

She was surprised at how easy this was to do with Riley. He had a way of knocking down the walls people erected around themselves, trying to stay protected from a truth that they didn't want to admit existed. And the uniform certainly didn't hurt - it gave him an air of authority and credibility that would otherwise take much longer than a few minutes to build up. Plus he looked damn good in it, but that was neither here nor there.

"Do you really believe in all this stuff? Ghosts and evil spirits?" she asked, her words tinged with disbelief.

Buffy smiled. She knew from the transcripts that Melissa was the one who had put the idea forward in the first place, most likely as a joke. "It's not a matter of belief," she said, the kindness in her voice making up for the bluntness of her words. "It is what it is."

"Well," Paul finally said, after taking this all in, "my gut tells me that something really weird is going on."

Good, Riley thought. It was always better when they didn't have to be talked into anything. "So how did you two catch this assignment? Quetico isn't exactly within Toronto city limits."

"Province-wide inter-agency task force," Paul said. "Parks, police, tribal councils; a few others. Six of the victims are from Toronto, so we were asked to help out."

"*He* was asked to help out," Melissa said, smiling. "I just had the bad fortune to be partnered with him."

Buffy leaned forward. "What made you say you thought this was some kind of spirit?" she asked Melissa.

The policewoman glanced at her partner before answering Buffy's question. "Frustration, mostly."

Melissa glared at him. "I didn't even think before saying it. It just came out," she said. "But then the guy just clammed up. Wouldn't say another word."

"Lac La Croix Guides," Melissa said, nodding. "There's been a special agreement with the Lac La Croix First Nation since the early '90s - they're the only ones allowed motorboat access in the Park. It was supposed to end a couple of years ago, but there was a five year extension on the agreement."

"Did you show the guides the drawings?" Riley asked. "Could they identify the pictures?"

"Was there anything that struck you as unusual in the interviews?" Riley said. "Something that wouldn't have made it into the transcripts?"

"You mean, apart from the fact that this whole thing is unusual?" Paul asked. "Not really. Unless you count the fact that until this case I'd never been sworn at in Anishnaabe."

"Their traditional language. At least, I'm assuming that's what they were speaking," Paul said. "They all sounded the same."

"Seven out of seven guides we talked to said the same thing," Melissa said. She smiled. "Personally, I think they were putting a curse on him, not just swearing."

Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Couldn't even begin to tell you. But it's on the tapes."

"Tapes?" Riley said, suppressing his anger at Jessica for not mentioning that tapes of the interview were still available. He had assumed they had been erased after the transcripts had been made. "You have tapes?"

"No trouble at all," Paul said. "So what happens now? You shadow us? Stick with us until we figure out what's doing this?"

"Why'd you turn the tape back on in Leslie Willett's interview?" Riley asked, ignoring Paul's questions.

"They deal with ghosts, Paul," Melissa said. "I think they'd get what it means to follow a hunch."

"Just that." Paul laughed self-consciously. "Just that several people mentioned them."

"There were witnesses to other disappearances?" Riley wasn't able to suppress his anger this time. Damn woman couldn't tell them there were other witnesses?

"Most of the victims had traveling companions - not much of a surprise since anyone experienced knows it's foolish to go into the Park alone. It's just too big."

"I remember it coming up twice before," Paul said. "We've been backtracking through the transcripts of the interviews that were done before we came on. So far it's been mentioned four other times."

"That there were butterflies everywhere," Melissa answered. "Or at least more than they'd ever seen at one time."

"What - like that they were big enough to carry these men away?" Paul said. "I don't think so. The only odd thing was how many of them there were."

Buffy looked at Riley. Paul was right - it didn't make much sense. "On the bodies - were there any drawings of butterflies?" She didn't remember seeing them, but it had been four in the morning when she was looking at the pictures.

Riley shook his head. He turned to Paul. "What about the drawings? Have you been able to figure out what they mean?"

"We actually haven't been able to do much," Paul said. "The Lieutenant's been supportive, but we've got other cases. Ones that take precedence over something happening on the other side of the province."

"Tuesday? As in a week from today?" Paul said. "Doesn't seem like enough lead time."

"And what are you planning to do once you're in there?" Melissa said, smiling. "Bring a Ouija board and put out a call to all the evil spirits?"

Riley grinned. "Nope - good old-fashioned policework. We're mapping out the last known location of each of the victims. We'll hit each place and see what happens from there."

"That's a lot of territory to cover," Paul said. "Whatever this thing is, it gets around. The bodies have been found all over the Park."

"We have two teams of eight," Riley said, "so we'll be splitting up. We can spare a little space if you want to come."

"Doubt it," she said. To Riley and Buffy she said, "The Prince of Wales is visiting next week. All hands on deck."

"If anything changes." Riley said as they all stood up. He handed them each his business card. "Cell phone number's on the back. We'll probably be talking to you over the next few days, and we'll definitely let you know what happens at Quetico."

Before the others left, Buffy said, "Could you have two copies of the tapes made?"

"If you can have one sent to this address," she said, tearing a piece of paper out of her notepad and scribbling something. "I have a friend who might be able to help us out."

"Willow Rosenberg," Paul said, reading the name Buffy had written. "Interesting name."

"Interesting person," Riley replied. "Thanks for all your help. As I said, I'm sure we'll be speaking again soon."

"Does Willow speak.whatever that language is?" Riley asked as they walked back to the hotel.

Buffy shrugged. "Probably not, but she might know someone who does." She took his hand. "So what do we do now?"

"Head back to the room. See what Graham and Sprague found out at the M.E.'s office. Read through more files. Do you have to meet with Jessica again?"

"I think I just need to check in," Buffy said. "Should we change our flight back to tonight? It seems like there's not much of a reason to stay another night."

Riley shook his head. "If we go home tonight, there's no way I can get through those boxes. Too many distractions in Boston."

"Gee, thanks," she said, stopping and putting her arms around him. "I thought I was distracting."

"'Distracting' isn't the word I'd use. 'All-encompassing,' maybe." He leaned down to kiss her. "I always did look forward to study breaks."

"Buffy!" Riley said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "We have to leave in ten minutes."

She peeked her head out of the bathroom, an open tube of lipstick in her hand. "I'll be done in two - I swear."

Right. One thing he hadn't missed in eight and a half years was the amount of time it took Sam to get out of the house. Two minutes was incredibly unlikely, especially given that Buffy wasn't wearing anything more than a towel.

Which was incredibly tempting, of course, and if he thought about it for too long it would actually be his fault that they missed the plane. And the girls' soccer game. That would not be a good thing. He forced himself to think about something other than Buffy in that towel. Or, rather, Buffy not in that towel. If only he hadn't already packed...

He looked around the hotel room to make sure that they hadn't forgotten anything. Which, of course, they had, he thought, noticing the cell phone sitting on the floor. It must have fallen off the nightstand when he moved the bed back to its normal place.

It was pure instinct to answer it when it rang. "Finn," he said, barely registering that it was a slightly different model than his own, which was in his jacket pocket.

"Um.actu-?" Riley thought the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Willow?" Riley said. No wonder he hadn't been able to place it. Hadn't heard it in over fifteen years. Unbelievable.

"No," Willow said. "Apparently. So, clearly, Buffy knows you're o.k. I mean, considering you just answered her phone."

He felt like he should say something more, but couldn't figure out what. Really - what exactly were you supposed to say to the best friend of your ex-girlfriend who was now kind of your girlfriend again (if you could call a thirty-something woman your girlfriend) but the last time you had seen her - the ex-/girlfriend's best friend that is - was when you showed up from out of nowhere with your wife, the wife you'd met and married in the year since you'd left said girlfriend in a blaze of non-glory after crashing and burning in the biggest mess-up-your-life story ev-

"Sure," he said, somewhat relieved. "Hold on." He took the phone into the bathroom and handed it to Buffy, who didn't seem any further along than she had a few minutes earlier. Two minutes. Right. "It's Willow," he said. "What are the odds of us making our plane?"

"I'll make it short," Buffy said. "I promise." She smiled and pushed him out the door, closing it behind him. "Willow?"

"I know," Buffy said, laughing. Or giggling, rather, feeling almost like she did back in high school, telling Willow about her first kiss with Angel, the exception being that there was no moral staking quandary involved.

"What was Riley doing answering your phone at, well, whatever time it is in the morning? Because it's pretty early here; I'm guessing it's not that much later wherever you are."

"Eight-fifteen," Willow repeated. "So, late enough that it's possible you're not sleeping together, but early enough that-"

"I've called you three times this week - you have totally been avoiding me. I knew something was up, but."

"Willow - hold on," Buffy said. She leaned forward and opened the door. "Riley - can you-?" She smiled as he handed her the clothes she had put over the back of a chair when she packed her suitcase. "Thanks. We *will* be on time."

He just nodded and smiled, pulling the door closed behind him as he left the bathroom.

She pulled on her underwear and threw the dress over her head before starting to talk again. "Sorry. We have to catch a flight."

"Right. Well, last week. Dawn dragged me to the fireworks and he was there. We bumped into each other - literally. It was." Still unbelievable, is what it was. She laughed. "It's been a good week."

"No," Buffy said, looking down at the floor. She could go hours without thinking of Sam, but then it would hit her that this kind of happiness wouldn't be possible if Sam were still alive. And then the guilt came rushing back. "Sam died. Almost nine years ago."

"Yes," Buffy answered. With me, she thought, still trying to get her mind around it. Riley's with me.

"I mean," Willow said, "even I was ready after a while. And I tried to destroy the world when I got widowed."

Easier said than done, Buffy thought. Not that it had stopped her from taking advantage of every minute she could, but still.

"Yeah, I think so. But." Buffy hesitated. "Do you remember how angry he was at me? He may as well just have come out and told me that it was my fault Riley was dead." She stopped abruptly before saying softly, "Which, it turns out, he wasn't, but if he had been, well, it kind of-"

"First of all," Willow said, "it wasn't your fault. If I'm remembering correctly - and I'm pretty sure I am - Riley happily went off with Sam. Too happily in fact since I'm also remembering that much ice cream was consumed after they left. And second, it wasn't you Xander was mad at."

"I think Anya was surprised at how hard it hit him, you know, being that Riley was pretty much the only guy friend he had other than Oz. And then there was the whole part where she was irritated because given what happened with you and me and Oz and Riley..." There was a slight pause before Willow said, "She thought it was 'abnormal that all of Xander's friends have breasts.'"

Buffy laughed as Willow's voice turned into a perfect replica of Anya's. "You'd think after all those years Xander and Spike would have gotten along."

"You'd think after all those years Xander wouldn't be so worried that you and Spike are going to get back together again."

There was silence for a moment before Willow said, "Wow. O.k. Still trying to process here. So - if I talk to Xander, am I allowed to say anything?"

"No, I rarely have good news about one of my boyfriends. I'd like to be the one to tell him. I'm not sure why I've been putting it off."

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with your lack of time what with all the sex you've been having."

"Willow!" Buffy said for the second time in five minutes. "I can't believe you just said that." She grinned. "Besides, it's not as much as you'd think given his parents always being around, not to mention his kids-"

"Probably not anytime in the near future, but I do kind of miss having a title." Buffy smiled. "It's been a while."

"I'll bet," Willow said. "You are *so* calling me tonight. And I expect full disclosure. Many details. And you really have to tell Xander."

"Excellent," Willow said. "Before I go though - the whole reason I called was to say I got the stuff Fred sent and I'll look it over today. I took a quick look at the markings and I have to say, they don't look like anything I've ever seen, but I'm spending the day in the library so I'll see what I can find out."

Opening the door and walking out into the room, Buffy said, "You'll be getting some tapes, too. Have you ever heard of a language called Anishnaabe?"

"Yep. It's pretty common up in this part of the world. It's the traditional language of the Ojibwe."

"Oh," Buffy said, slipping into a pair of sandals. Ignoring Riley's pointed look at his watch, she said, "Can you speak it?"

"'Speaking it' would be a generous term," Willow answered, "but I know some words. And I have some friends that might be able to help out. When do you need to know this by?"

"Sunday night. We head out on Monday morning, so whatever you can tell us by then would be helpful. There's also a briefing tomorrow afternoon if you have something by then."

Buffy said, "I won't be around until late. We're going to a soccer game and then to Graham's house for dinner."

"A soccer game? And did you say Graham? Are you sure this is really Buffy I'm talking to?"

"Bye, Will. Thanks." Buffy hung up. She turned to Riley. "Sorry. Are we really late?"

He shook his head. "We'll make it," he said, standing up. "But we have to go now."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him back, drawing his head down to her and kissing him. "I love you. Have I mentioned that lately?"

"I think you might have said something to that effect earlier this morning." He reached down for their bags. "You afraid I'm going to think you don't because you didn't say anything to Willow about us?"

"Nothing you say is going to jinx this," he said, smiling as he leaned down to kiss her again. "O.k.? Can we go?"

"Ms. Summers? I'm Wendy Williams, Riley's assistant. He asked me to come get you."

Buffy got to her feet and grabbed her bag off the seat next to her. She nodded at the receptionist and followed Wendy down the hall, thinking what an odd picture they must make - Wendy being almost as tall as Riley, her mahogany skin set off by her jet black hair, and Buffy being, well, short.

The office wasn't at all what Buffy had anticipated - a six-story brick building set among the warehouses behind the government complex. Inside, everything she had seen so far looked like a lawyer's office - a pretty successful lawyer, with leather couches and comfortable chairs, oriental rugs and lush, green plants. A far cry from the sterile steeliness of the Initiative.

She half expected the elevator to have the same white, padded walls she remembered. But it didn't - it was just your normal run-of-the-mill elevator.

"Oh, sorry," Buffy said, stepping through the doors that she realized Wendy was holding open for her. "Have you worked with Riley long?" she asked as Wendy pushed the button for the top floor.

"Mmm." Talkative, this Wendy person. Buffy said, "I expected to see more people in uniform. This is an Army thing, isn't it?"

Wendy smiled. "Not just Army - all branches of the military are represented as are a bunch of other government agencies. But we get to do things differently around here - it was part of the deal when Riley agreed to come to Boston."

The words were spoken casually, but there was an unmistakable warning in the tone. Great, Buffy thought. Is there *anyone* that doesn't know about Sunnydale?

They reached a small reception area. Wendy gestured to one of the chairs. "Please have a seat," she said. "He'll be out shortly."

Buffy sat down, watching as Wendy did the same, turning her attention to the computer. Not rudely, but it was clear that no more conversation would be taking place. A few minutes later, the office door opened and Riley stepped out, a few steps behind another man.

"Thanks, Drew," Riley said. "Drew - Buffy, Buffy - Drew," he said as Buffy stood up. "Drew's our resident computer whiz - best in the business."

"Wendy," Riley said, "hold my calls for a few minutes?" He held the door open for Buffy; closed it behind them once they were inside the office.

Buffy walked over to the wide window through which she could see Boston Harbor. "Nice view." She turned around, her eyes scanning the office - big enough for a round table with seating for four and a large wooden desk against the wall. Two chairs for visitors were opposite the desk; the desk itself was covered with the usual assortment of papers and supplies, as well as prominent pictures of Sam and his kids. On his computer screen was a three-dimensional image of Buffy.

"Oh, sorry." He crossed to the desk. "It's what Drew was working on. The elevator automatically does a full-body scan of everyone who comes in the building. I wanted to make sure it didn't flag you as a hostile."

So much for normal, run-of-the-mill. "You guys and your elevators. Wait." She grabbed his hand before he could close out the program. "What does it say about me?"

"Are you supposed to be tampering with these files?" Buffy asked, her smile broadening. "I mean, that's what you had Drew doing, right? Mr. Computer Whiz? Playing around with my file?"

Riley pulled away from the computer, sitting down in his chair and turning it towards her. "The files automatically go into a central database. There's a fifteen minute buffer where we can intercept it - just wanted to make sure we got to it in time."

"This is all they know," Riley said, hitting a few keys and replacing the image of her with a page from her file: full name, date of birth, basic information about her family, and a terse series of sentences describing her association with the Initiative: Status initiated February 2000. Terminated March 2000. See also Riley Finn.

"Oddly enough," he said, smiling, "some files got corrupted during the conversion to the new system a few years back. Had to recreate them from memory."

"So what's the big deal if they know I'm a Slayer?" Not that she wanted them - whoever "they" were - to know that much about her, but she wasn't sure why Riley felt so strongly about it.

"There's still a research branch down in D.C. I figure I'm higher in rank than just about anyone else in this division but they still won't tell me what goes on there. I'm not sure if they'd care about Slayers, but it's probably better not to find out."

"But you said the squad should know." On the way back from Toronto, they'd talked about how best to handle her meeting the team and had decided honesty was the best policy.

Eyes still on the computer, he said, "Most of these guys have been with me for more than five years - I trust them. Besides, they don't give a damn how your body works, they just want to know you can hold your own."

She turned back to the computer. "That's what this does? The elevator scan thingy? It tells you how my body works?"

"Scans - internal and external. Focuses on the abnormalities. If it sees something it doesn't like, the file gets tagged and Washington calls us."

"Possible vampire. Not quite registering as human." He'd avoided looking at her up until this point - talking about how her body worked wasn't exactly the most benign of topics. But, well, what the hell. He looked up at her, "Stunningly beautiful."

"I can override the call to Security; erasing that stuff from the file is another story."

"So what's considered a proper thank you?" she asked, sitting in his lap and putting her arms around his neck.

Her lips touched his briefly before she said, "I have something better." She rolled up her sleeve and showed him the band-aid on her arm.

"Did you know they have shots now? Instead of birth control pills?" She leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. "They take effect immediately."

He closed his eyes, knowing that it would be impossible to ignore what that last statement just did to him. "So, um, how'd it go at the doctor's?" he said, trying to change the subject and grabbing Buffy's hand as it wandered down past his waist. "I thought your appointment was at nine."

Buffy sat back, smiling. She was surprised he'd actually let her get as far as she'd gotten. "It was," she said, giving him a final, much more chaste kiss on the lips before pulling away.

Being poked, prodded, and tested for hours on end was not her idea of a good time, but it had been one of the conditions of her retirement. At least Giles had gotten the Council to agree to only twice a year instead of four times. He convinced them that would be a sufficient amount of data to study the aging process of Slayers, something they'd never before had the opportunity to do.

"Did you already have lunch?" she asked. Even with the full work-up, the appointments usually took no more than three hours, but she hadn't counted on the new doctor wanting to go through an entire personal history as well.

Buffy put her bag back on the desk and leaned into Riley, her head on his shoulder. "The one where I meet everyone?"

Buffy sat up, cutting him off as she said, "Riley - does everyone know about us?"

She stood up and sat back against the desk so she was facing him. "Nothing really - just that Sprague mentioned something about me being 'her,' - the one before Sam. And then Wendy, well, I don't know. She seemed kind of protective."

"Oh. Well, Wendy tends to know more about me than I do, so I'm not surprised if she figured it out. And she tends to bear the brunt when people don't like me so she's usually on the guilty until proven innocent side."

"Sprague's first day was the day after I left Sunnydale. He was there for the dark times."

Buffy looked down. Thinking about what he had gone through wasn't something she liked to do; too many emotions rearing their ugly heads. Like, for example, guilt. Followed closely by, well, more guilt.

She looked up again when he squeezed her hand, and returned the smile he gave her - not one of forgiveness - in the limited discussions they'd had on the subject, it had been clear to her that he felt full responsibility for what had happened - but one, instead, of acceptance and understanding. Acknowledgment that they had both hit about as far down as was possible to go, but they had still come up. Fought their way back to the light and ended up here, together.

"About us? No. Not that they won't figure it out - Graham said there's been some, uh, speculation as to why I've been in such a good mood this week," he said, laughing as he stood up. "So - do you need lunch? Or are you ready for the meeting?"

"Can I have your apple?" she said, pointing to the one sitting on his desk. She grabbed it as he nodded and followed him out into the hallway. "Dinner will be making up for my lack of lunch, right?"

Riley nodded. "Mom's outdoing herself tonight - said she wanted to make a good impression on you and Dawn."

He smiled. "She's funny that way." He paused at the door to the conference room. "Ready?"

Buffy nodded her head. It wasn't the first time she had walked into a room full of disbelieving strangers, the only difference was that Riley had already warned her who the troublemakers would be. Well, not troublemakers, exactly, but challengers. Mavericks as Xander called them, thanks to his affinity for "Top Gun" - twenty-something, accomplished, brash, cocky, and, almost without exception, incredibly attractive men. All very Tom Cruise, the Early Days.

Sitting down, she was almost positive that she could identify them even without being introduced: blond in the corner and redhead sitting opposite her. Roberts and Brady, both of them radiating attitude from the moment she stepped in the room. The rest of the men blended together - mostly mid-twenties to early-thirties and despite their casual dress, all unmistakably military.

There were only two other women in the room - Wendy and the only female member on the squad, Ana Lourdes. Riley had said that there were two other women who typically rotated onto the team, but one was injured and one was on maternity leave, so for this mission it would just be Buffy and Ana. Thanks to Ana and the other two women, not to mention Sam before them, the biggest issue Buffy would have to overcome wasn't the fact that she was a woman, but instead that she was an outsider.

And outsider she clearly was, based on the easygoing camaraderie in the room - nicknames and stories being passed around the table, gentle and not-so-gentle ribbing as more men continued to take their seats. There was no question that this group had worked together for a long time.

He picked up the receiver of the phone in front of him. "Willow? It's Riley. Buffy tells me you use this system all the time - the monitors don't bother you?" They'd first started using the video-phones at the Initiative, but the technology had become much more prevalent in the intervening years and it wasn't unusual for academics to have access. Buffy had told him that Willow finagled her own system for her office and wouldn't be at all uncomfortable.

"Not at all," Willow replied. "Turn that monitor on, Riley. I want to see what you look like after all this time."

Riley grinned and leaned forward. He bypassed the switch that would bring up the speakers - wasn't quite ready for the conversation to be broadcast. Flipping the switch that turned on the cameras and monitors in the conference room, he brought Willow's image up on the screen at the end of the table.

Seeing Buffy in that drugstore had been stunning - breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly stunning. But Willow was striking in a different way. Commanding. Demanding the attention of everyone in the room. The wide, warm eyes that he remembered. Hair the same shade of red, emblazoned with gray streaks that enhanced her beauty rather than diminished it. A friendly, engaging smile that had taken residence in his memories, but hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her.

"You've changed," he said, his smile broadening. Her power was palpable; the magic - even if you didn't know it was magic, you knew it was something - impossible to ignore.

Willow's response was a smile. Her eyes sparkling, she sat back in her chair and took a good look at him. "The years have been kind to you, Riley Finn."

"Some kinder than others." He felt Buffy's hand on his thigh, whether it was for comfort, connection, or possession, he wasn't sure. On the plane back to Boston she'd talked about Willow with warmth and pride, but it was just occurring to him how hard it would have been to see Willow's power match her own, possibly even surpass it. Not that it should have been a surprise - he had gone through a similar process, albeit in a much shorter timeframe, with Buffy.

Riley laughed. He'd been thinking about Willow a lot since their brief conversation the day before, and he'd realized how rare it was to come across someone who truly understood his loss; someone who could empathize, not sympathize - the reason he was so good with the widows and orphans. But it was nice not to have to be the one giving comfort for once. He hadn't realized how much he had missed Willow in her own right. She knew things about him that even Graham didn't; understood things that Buffy couldn't.

That had been the case almost since the day he fell for Buffy, when Willow was the one he could count on in those awkward first few weeks. But even now - especially now, after Buffy had told Riley about what happened to Tara, what happened to Willow in the days and months afterward - there was a part of him that just wanted to confide in her. To tell Willow everything about Sam - what he had loved, what had driven him crazy.

The regrets, the anger; the emptiness and despair. How hard it had been to climb out of that hole; the guilt he sometimes felt that he wasn't still there. The bittersweet presence of Buffy in his life - the happiness she had given back to him, something he never thought he'd feel again; the sorrow that it wouldn't be Sam watching their kids grow up, it wouldn't be Sam talking about having another baby. Thoughts he wouldn't mind sharing with Buffy and Graham and Sarah over a couple of beers on the roof deck, but not to be discussed in front of fifteen other soldiers.

She nodded. "Hi, Graham," she said, as soon as Riley hung up the receiver. "Nice to see you again. Congratulations on the wife and kids."

"Thanks," Graham said. "Good to see you, too. Buffy tells us you've become quite the expert in your field."

"I hear you guys have come a long way, too. Walsh would have been proud. Or would have rolled over in her grave. Not sure which."

He looked around the room. Despite the casual tone that he and Graham had set in the division, these were still soldiers, and getting their attention had never been difficult, even in the relaxed atmosphere of this particular unit. But the stillness in the room was unlike anything he had ever witnessed - not one whispered comment, no straying eyes. All attention focused on Buffy and Willow.

Graham said, "Gentlemen, ladies, if you've done your homework, the names Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg should at least sound familiar. A while back they led the group that sealed the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. I'm sure it's unnecessary to tell you the power required in that kind of an undertaking. And if something called the Initiative had ever existed," he continued with a wry grin, "which, of course, as you all know, it didn't, Buffy and Willow would have been instrumental in taking that down as well."

Buffy wasn't surprised that the comment came from the redhead across from her. His added "Sir" came with just enough of a pause that the challenge showed through; not enough to actually be called disrespectful.

"It was if you were one of the soldiers whose lives they saved." Graham stared at the soldier coldly. "Anything else you'd like to ask, Brady?"

Graham nodded and again addressed the entire group. "At last week's briefing, I mentioned that this op had some major politics involved. As you all know, we were up in Toronto earlier this week. The bad news is that we'll be working with consultants hired by the provincial government; the good news is that the consultants they hired - Angel Investigations out of L.A. - are represented by Buffy. She'll be shipping out with us Monday morning."

"I'm sure there are some concerns about working with civilians," Graham said before anyone had a chance to voice them. "I have no doubts those concerns will be erased by the end of the day." He looked around the room. "The Canadian government has also specifically requested that Riley lead one of the teams heading into the Park. Sprague will lead the other, and I'll be staffing the Command post, which will be based at the Atikokan Ranger Station. Ri?"

Riley punched a few keys on the keyboard in front of him and a map of Quetico Park appeared on the wall; a few more keys and a series of red dots appeared. He said, "We've spent the last day and a half going over the files we received while we were in Toronto. The solid red dots show where the ten bodies have been found; the flashing ones are the last known locations of the ten dead and four missing hikers. As you can see, they're all over the Park, although there is a cluster in the southwestern corner. We figure the best strategy is to set up a base camp here," he said, hitting another key as a star appeared on the map, "and then we'll split up into smaller teams and head out to the various crime scenes."

"By the way," Graham added, "this will all be done on foot and by boat. Canoe, to be more specific. Your briefing kits contain a training schedule for the next three days. Packing requirements are there as well. Civvies only - the last thing we need to do is scare hikers into thinking that the Park has been taken over by commandos. See Wendy if you need to stock up on gear."

Riley continued, "Unfortunately, we have very little to go on. So far, a couple of things have emerged - there's a pretty consistent victim profile - a little over six feet, weighing in at about two hundred pounds-"

He gave her a look before continuing, "Yes, several of the victims have been widowed."

"Nine out of fourteen," he repeated, glaring at her. Looking up at the rest of the group he said, "Needless to say, several of us should take extra precautions. Stay with your partner at all times - these men disappeared when they went off on their own."

"Riley said nine out of fourteen - that leaves five. Did they lose a child? A partner? Someone that would have caused the same kind of heartbreak?"

Riley shrugged as Graham looked at him. "Nothing else was mentioned in interviews with the families," Riley said, "but it wasn't a question they specifically asked. Why?"

"Well," Willow said, "it's too small a number to be statistically significant so that may not be a factor. But if all of them had lost someone, that might be helpful to know. It would be another avenue to research."

Graham made a note. "We can have the detectives up in Toronto do some further questioning." To the group he said, "Willow has been researching the markings that have been found on the bodies." He turned back to Willow. "Has anything turned up?"

"Nothing definitive," she said, shaking her head. She leaned to the side, her hand going off camera. "Are you seeing this?" she said. "I'm uploading some pictures."

"We've got it," Graham said, as the map was replaced by an image of the markings.

As she spoke, sections of the screen were highlighted, showing the specific areas she was talking about. "The markings contain a lot of the same symbols, but not in the same patterns. The symbols are probably a combination of letters and phrases; or at least a really early version of that."

"A few," Willow said. "This is most likely where it starts." A red circle appeared on the screen. "'In the beginning,' which is how a lot of the legends start."

"Or stories of some kind," Willow replied. "And no," she said, anticipating the next question, "I don't know what the rest of it says - that's where the problem comes in. The markings are similar to ones I've seen, but they're much, much older. Ancient, in fact. As far as I can tell, this is a language that has never been seen before, at least in this incarnation."

"Then how do you know it says 'in the beginning'?" Brady asked at the same time Sprague said, "The markings on the body are a language in themselves?"

Willow nodded. "It's like hieroglyphics," she answered. "Or primitive cave drawings. Pictures representing words. Except in this case, the pictures aren't quite that descriptive. It's more lines and circles and shapes, which at some point in time evolved into actual pictoral representations."

Addressing Brady's question, she said, "Some of the symbols - like the one that starts the whole thing off - haven't changed that much over time. Unfortunately, that's only the case with a few of them. I know that the drawings represent a story; what that story is isn't clear yet."

"So," Graham said, "why would someone in the 21st century be using symbols from some language that's - what, thousands of years old?"

"Definitely B.C.," Willow said. "And I don't know. That's what you're going in there to find out, right?"

Riley said, "What about the audio tapes of the interviews with the guides? Any idea what it was they were saying at the end? Was that an ancient language, too?"

"No, that was your basic Anishnaabe," Willow said, grinning. "I'm still trying to track down someone who can help me translate it accurately, but it's a proper name - I could tell that much at least. Something like Butterfly Woman, or Butterfly Princess. Does that mean something?" she asked as she noticed Riley's reaction.

"Butterflies," he said. "There's something about the butterflies. Several of the people that these guys were traveling with said that there were butterflies everywhere on the mornings of the disappearances."

"They also said there were beautiful sunrises, though," Graham said, "so it may not mean anything."

"Well," Willow replied. "It's easy enough to look into. Do you have someone doing research? Maybe Fred and I can coordinate with your research team. I'm not sure if we'll have anything for you by Monday, but we'll see what we can do."

"That sounds good," Riley said, looking at his assistant. "We've got another twenty minutes of team assignments and stuff like that, but Wendy will give you a call when the briefing's over. Anything else you can think of?"

Willow shook her head. "It was really good to talk to you. I'll be in touch." With a smile and a wave, she disconnected her phone and her image disappeared.

Graham addressed the team. "You know what we know. As Riley said, it's not much to go on. It would be great if we could solve this thing right off the bat, but that's unlikely. So consider this a recon mission - gather as much data as you can. Take as many pictures as possible, make note of anything that seems unusual. And as ridiculous as this sounds, if you see a ton of butterflies, do *not* charge in. Call it in - I'll want to know what they look like, how many there are, what direction they're coming from, going to, whatever else we can think of."

"Evacuate them. Get them out of the area as quickly as possible. Do anything short of showing weapons. And if you see a six foot tall guy who seems really sad, don't leave his side until the butterflies are gone." Graham smiled. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Graham said. "I know all that information is hard for you to process." He grinned as a couple of the other men took the opportunity to comment on Roberts' ability - or lack thereof - to handle the act of thinking.

Looking around the table, Graham continued, "Finn and Sprague are team leaders, Brady and Lourdes will be second in command. Those four plus Wendy and Buffy stay behind; everyone else is dismissed after team assignments are read off. Reassemble downstairs in the gym in half an hour. Be ready for an intense workout - and Roberts, if your head hurts now, it's nothing compared to how you're going to feel when Buffy gets done with you."