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Riley was pissed, of that Buffy was sure. Wendy, Ana, and Brady had been dismissed, leaving Buffy and Sprague to watch the sparks flying between Riley and Graham.

"It's damned unprofessional is what it is," Riley spat out. "She should be on Sprague's team."

Graham answered, "I honestly don't give a shit what it looks like - you're partnered with Buffy. Period."

Graham talked over him. "Besides, they're just young and stupid enough to manage to raise enough hell to get back-up before whatever this is gets them. I'm not risking your life just because there might be some talk about you and your girlfriend. And this team knows you; they respect you. If you're worried that's going to change because you spend three weeks partnered with Buffy, then keep your hands off of her."

"Actually it is. Because I'm still in charge of this op and short of your quitting, I get to control every aspect of your life for the next three weeks. If you have a problem, take it to the General, but I can pretty much guarantee that he's not going to overrule me on this."

Riley was fuming, but he didn't put up any more of a fight. "Are we done?" he said, each word clipped and cold.

Buffy watched as Riley pushed his chair back and left the room, saying he'd see them downstairs. She didn't say anything until he was gone. "You think he's in danger."

"I stand by what I said the other day," Graham said. "I don't think Jessica's setting him up, but I'm not taking any chances. And frankly, this is one of the best teams I've ever seen, but no one is going to protect him like you will." He stood up. "I need to make a couple of phone calls. Sprague will show you where you can change."

"Well, if nothing else," Sprague said as they walked downstairs, "you've certainly made this mission more interesting than any one I've been on recently."

"Great," she said, rolling her eyes. "So glad I could provide some entertainment. Anything else I can do for you?"

He laughed. "Now I'm even more interested in seeing you fight. But other than that, no. Locker room's in there."

"Thanks." She pushed the door open, happy for a moment of peace and quiet. There was nothing that would make her give up the last week and, as far as she was concerned, she wanted it to last for a long, long time. But she was learning to take advantage of the quiet times, because in this new world with Riley, they were few and far between.

Very few and far between, she thought, sighing as she noticed the locker room was already occupied. Ana Lourdes.

"Welcome," Ana said, bending over to tie her shoelaces. "The Colonel speaks highly of you."

"I like to know what I'm dealing with. I find that when members of the team are together, it affects the group's dynamics. And their judgment. If that's going to happen, I want to be prepared."

"The rest of the team runs on testosterone. They prepare by bench-pressing several hundred pounds." Ana straightened up and closed the door to her locker. She looked at Buffy expectantly.

Buffy took a few moments before responding, "I don't sleep with married men." She slipped off her shoes and started to undress. "Why would you think there was something between Graham and me?"

Ana gave Buffy a shrewd look. "As I said, he's spoken of you often over the past week. It's unusual for him; you appear to have made an impression."

"Yes, I'm sure I have," Buffy said, smiling. She paused and then asked, "Does Riley say anything?" It was a dead giveaway, she knew, but she had already decided that Ana had a point. And it was clear from Sprague's comment that things were not proceeding as usual.

"No. But he tends to keep his personal life personal," Ana said, smiling as she sat down across from Buffy.

"Well, I suppose that's good then. I wouldn't want to say anything out of turn, if you understand what I mean."

"It must be hard for him," Ana said, "being partnered with you. He doesn't go out much in the field these days, but when he does, he's usually with one of the newer guys. He tends to avoid pairing up with anyone there's any kind of emotional attachment to. I think it reminds him of Sam."

"Oh," Buffy said. That hadn't occurred to her. Of course, he could just be furious because he knew they were trying to protect him. And, as she well knew, he had always hated that. "Did you know her?"

Ana shook her head. "I know of her - we all do. But only a few of the guys actually knew her - Sprague, Brooks, a couple of the others. They don't talk much about her, though. Don't talk much about any of the ones who are gone in fact. They're superstitious that way. You ready? I'd watch out for Brady - he's good, but he plays dirty."

They were among the last to enter the gym. Buffy's eyes scanned the room; she was relieved when she saw Riley. For a few moments there she had wondered if he was going to come down at all. He had mentioned in passing that he hated this place, that it was haunted by Sam's ghost. Add that to the unhappiness over Graham's decision and she wouldn't have blamed him for staying away. She went over and sat down next to him.

"Hey," she said. "You doing o.k.?" His look told her that he was still angry. "He's worried about you," she said. "You'd do the same for him."

Graham sat down on a bench across from them, focusing on Riley. "The team needs to see what she can do. I don't want them holding anything back - which they will do unless they see you pounding on her."

"And it doesn't hurt to remind them what you can do," Graham said, looking back at Riley. "It's been a while since they've seen you in action. And O'Hara's doesn't count," Graham said, again speaking over Riley's objection. "You don't go for blood there." He stood up and gestured at the mats. "It's not like you two haven't done this before."

Buffy followed Riley to the mat, wishing she could read his thoughts. It certainly was something they'd done before, but not for a long, long time. Longer, probably, than Graham realized. When Graham was still around, sparring had been a daily occurrence. But that changed soon after the Initiative fell and Graham left Sunnydale. Just one of the many things that changed.

"So, how do you want to start this?" she asked as they squared off. It was strange to be doing this in front of so many people, but she knew Graham was right.

The words stopped her cold, bringing back the horrible memory of the night he left for Belize. It wasn't until she was lying flat on her back, after he had kicked her legs out from under her, that she realized that had been his intention.

He shrugged and grinned. "There's no way I can beat you," he said, throwing a punch only to have it blocked. "But I'm not making it easy."

She smiled, placing a punch of her own. The crowd fell away, and for a few minutes, it was only the two of them, back in that gym at UC-Sunnydale. He was a better fighter now - much more patient; his hits much more accurate and, yes.more painful. And he wasn't worried about hurting her - whether it was because of the years of experience or the games they'd been playing over the past week, she wasn't sure. Nor did she care. It made it a lot more fun.

"We should do this more often," she said, in one particularly close moment when she had him pinned on the floor.

"I'm game," he said, flipping her on her back, his face only inches from hers. "Rather not have an audience, though."

"No," she said, breathless from both the exertion - more than she had expected right off the bat - and from the nearness of him. "No audience." She pushed him off and scrambled up, distancing herself.

He was right - he couldn't beat her. Not physically. But he was doing a hell of a job on the mind games - his words throwing her off balance from the start and then building upon that by playing on her one weakness, a scar that he happened to know quite well, brushing it, breathing on it. Making this fight physical in more ways than one.

Nothing overtly sexual - he was too smart for that. Not even personal. It was a means to an end - finding that weakness and exploiting it. The way he kept winning; the way he had survived for all these years.

She swung at him, harder than she intended, realizing that she had been holding back, even though she'd been telling herself not to. He fell back, rubbing his jaw where she hit him, but smiling as he did so. He came at her with renewed energy, using force and speed that she hadn't known he had in him.

They still weren't equally matched - they never would be, but he was definitely a challenge. A refreshing, stimulating challenge. She was sorry when Graham stopped them. "I would have liked to go another few rounds," she said to Riley as they stood to the side, watching the next pair go at it.

"Speak for yourself," he said, laughing and gingerly stretching his arms over his head. "Haven't done that in a while."

"I was just going to say that I do better when the back I'm watching is one I care about."

"Right." He smiled as her hand briefly brushed his and they turned their attention to the mats.

"What?" Riley said, glancing down at Buffy as they crossed the street, hand in hand.

She shrugged. "I'm happy," she said, although that word didn't even come close to explaining the joy she'd experienced this past week. One glance at the look in his eyes was all it took, though, to see that he knew exactly what she meant. "This is all so." Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right word.

Walking through the streets as the sun began to set probably wasn't something she had done a lot of. Not that he and Sam had either - even when they were both in Boston at the same time - there were playdates that needed dropping off at and picking up from, grocery shopping to take care of, the mundane details of everyday life that sometimes got in the way of living and certainly didn't allow for leisurely strolls home after work. But at least they'd had the option.

"Something like that," she said, laughing and nodding. Because - what exactly was normal?

Pre-Slayer, the word was practically meaningless. Football players and Homecoming dances were what filled her thoughts - a typical high school freshman. Followed soon after by Sunnydale High and boys who were having their own issues with life on the Hellmouth.

First love - passionate, breathtaking, beyond compare, but ultimately unsustainable. That, actually, had probably been close to other people's experiences. If you didn't count the part about said love turning into evil incarnate and sending him to Hell in order to save the world.

Then college. And Parker - normal, yes. But also hurtful. A different kind of pain than that brought on by Angel, but incredibly wounding nevertheless. Although, if Parker hadn't happened, maybe Riley wouldn't have either, because it certainly wasn't his stellar conversation skills that had attracted her. His earnestness and kindness were something new to her. The fact that she wasn't just another conquest soothed her raw heart. And he truly had courted her, just as he told Willow he would.

Would she have fallen in love if she hadn't discovered his secret? If he hadn't discovered hers? Probably not, as she found in her post-Spike experiences. Sweetness and a good heart just weren't enough for her; Spike was right - she needed more. Her routine days and nights required a man who could handle a crossbow, who could handle himself around the other-worldly. Hell, who could handle hearing about the other-worldly.

Normal was certainly a hard thing to find when its definition changed on a regular basis. Fulfilled, on the other hand, was an easier thing to pin down - either you were or you weren't. And right now, she most definitely was. Maybe it was only the giddiness of new - old? - romance, but she had never felt this way with Angel or Spike or even Riley, the first time around. Had never felt deep in her gut that *this* was the thing she'd been looking for.

"You know," she said as they passed through the grounds of the State house and onto the cobblestone streets, "I don't think anyone's ever taken me home to have dinner with his parents."

"Especially given the fact that he killed them," she muttered without really thinking, causing Riley to raise his eyebrows. But that's what she was talking about - if that had slipped out with any other guy, it would have required a very creative explanation.

She nodded. It was a few minutes before she spoke again. "What do you tell your kids?"

"You mean, when they care enough to ask?" he said, smiling. "That I work for the Army - strategic planning, field operations and analysis. Start throwing words around like that and their eyes glaze over."

"That must be hard, though. I remember what a relief it was when my mom found out." Or, to be more accurate, when she accepted it. "I hated keeping so much from her."

"Yeah. It's tough," he said, taking out his keys as they approached the house. "So, home sweet home."

"Hey," she said, pulling his hand away from the door and placing it on her waist. "Kiss, please. I mean, unless we're too close to-" his kids, she would have said if she hadn't been silenced by his mouth on hers.

Oh, that was a mistake, she realized. Shouldn't have started this, especially after spending the last few hours training, because she wanted so much more and there was no way-

"In. Here?" She pulled away. "But you said." *Explicitly* said not in his house, not when his kids were home.

"I know. I changed my mind." It had only been a little over a week, but any doubts he had were already gone. This wasn't a fling. It wasn't just two people trying to rekindle something they had once had. This was real - maybe even more so than it had been all those years ago. The potential might have been there, but there was too much living that needed to be done, too many experiences yet to go through.

Now, though, he'd lived through too much. All those experiences had beaten him down and he was ready to just be home. Ready to have someone to come home to. Not his kids, not his parents - someone for him.

Speaking, however, of kids and parents. "Maybe not staying over. Probably a little too soon for that, but."

"Not soon enough." He leaned in to kiss her, stopped when he noticed someone behind her. "Hi, Dad."

Buffy's arms dropped to her sides as she turned and saw Riley, thirty years older - handsome, but whose gray hair, leathery skin and rough hands were evidence of a hard life; the permanent twinkle in his eyes proof that hard didn't mean without joy.

"Mr. Finn," she said, hesitantly. Her impressions of him were over fifteen years old, a result of the various things Riley had said - a solid, stalwart man who had raised his sons right. Not someone who would take kindly to seeing one of them making out on the front steps with his girlfriend. But there was something about the older man, something about him so kind that you couldn't help but smile.

He reached out to shake her hand and said, "I'm assuming you're the Ms. Summers I've been hearing so much about."

"Buffy," she said. "Please." She had been nervous about meeting him, on edge all last night because she had expected him to be at yesterday's soccer game and then dinner at Graham's afterwards, but it had ended up being just her, Riley and the girls representing the Finn camp.

"Well, Buffy, I'm Gavin. Were you two planning on going in anytime soon? Or should I just pretend I didn't see you out here?"

"Uh, no," Riley said with a look at Buffy. "We're going in. Mom sent you out shopping?" he asked with a nod towards the bag in his father's hand.

"Blueberries," Gavin replied, holding up the bag. "Your mother suddenly decided there wasn't quite enough to eat and she needed to add cobbler to the list. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Riley unlocked the door and said to Buffy, "Mom's blueberry cobbler is not to be missed." He opened the door and followed the others inside. His father led the way to the kitchen.

Gavin walked over to Mary and handed her the bag. "Here you go. Freshest blueberries on Beacon Hill."

"Hi, Mom," Riley said, walking over and kissing her on the forehead. "It smells great in here. You need any help?"

Mary smiled, but barely looked up from what she was doing. "Someone needs to start the grill. And help your father get the drinks upstairs."

"Buffy, honey," Mary continued, "could you get the blueberries started? Liam was supposed to help but he seems to be caught up at the moment," she said, glaring at the boy who was sitting at the table, talking on the telephone. Liam gave her a mischievous smile back and got up, taking the phone out of the kitchen.

"Um, sure," Buffy said, taking the recipe card that Mary handed her. She smiled at Riley as he left the kitchen, presumably to take the bags of ice he was carrying up to the roof deck. "Sugar?"

Mary nodded at some canisters on a shelf under the counter, her hands occupied shelling shrimp and dropping them into a marinade. "There's a pot in the cabinet next to the stove that you can use . Yep, that's the one."

Buffy busied herself measuring and pouring, not quite sure what to say to this woman now that they were alone together. The one time they had spoken on the phone last week had been brief enough that it hadn't been an issue, but she'd never had to impress someone's mother before and she was finding it quite intimidating. Thankfully, Mary started making small talk and within a few minutes, Liam had returned to the kitchen and was receiving his own orders about the cobbler part of the cobbler.

Of course, Liam intimidated Buffy, too. The only one of the family she hadn't officially met, now that she had been introduced to Riley's dad. And eleven-year-old boys had never been her strong suit.

As covertly as possible, she watched him gather the ingredients per his grandmother's instructions. He had the same easy smile as his father and grandfather, but none of the hardness that they carried deep within them. How odd to be seeing Riley at eleven when only moments before she had seen him at seventy. So unlike anything she had experienced with Angel or Spike; hell, it had been a hundred-, two hundred-plus years since either of them had seen eleven, and they would never see seventy. Not in the same way at least.

"Buffy," Mary said. "Have you and Liam met? It just occurred to me that you might not have."

Buffy realized that he was staring at her, checking her out in the same way she had just been doing to him. Although she had been much better about hiding it, having twenty years of practice. She tried to think of something to say to break the silence, but was saved from having to do so by the noisy arrival of the rest of the kids - Jack, Kate, Annie, Charlie, and Josh - followed closely by Dawn and Eddie. A flash of envy ran through her, as it occurred to her that in one afternoon, Dawn had managed to form a bond with Riley's daughters that Buffy had as of yet been unable to. But it was easier for Dawn - she had nothing to prove and nothing to lose.

"You should have seen it, Grandma!" Annie was saying. "Kate almost ran us into a tugboat! Eddie had to grab the wheel so we didn't crash."

"We weren't *that* close," Kate protested as Riley came back into the room. "We would have been fine."

Stirring the blueberry mixture that she had concocted, Buffy turned her attention back to the stove, strangely comforted by the chaos in the kitchen, feeling as though someone had put a cozy, old quilt over her shoulders, blanketing her in its warmth.

The warmth wasn't entirely imagined, she realized, feeling a strong hand on her back. Looking up into Riley's eyes, she smiled and nodded at the unasked question. Just fine.

And she was, despite the fact that she was blinking back tears. Because she had yearned for this for years - for this warm, happy kitchen with its heavenly aroma and affectionate chatter. Filled with family.

She glanced over at Dawn who was laughing and trying to talk over Eddie as he recounted details from their day of sailing, both of them clearly in their element. Buffy remembered the first time Dawn had met Eddie's family - all thirty-five of them when you counted in aunts, uncles, and cousins - over the holidays, two years before. She had called Buffy on Christmas morning, saying how she never wanted to leave. Buffy hadn't understood why until this very moment.

"Really sure," she responded. As long as this never ends. Something in her eyes must have told him how happy she was because he broke into a broad smile and bent down to give her forehead a quick kiss before asking his mother what had to be done next.

Buffy continued her stirring as Riley started skewering the shrimp Mary had been peeling, teasing her over the amount of food she had prepared.

"I think that's ready," said Liam who had suddenly appeared at Buffy's side. "Here." He placed a baking dish on the counter between them. "You can pour it in now."

"Oh. O.k." She shut off the stove and poured the syrupy blueberries into the dish. "Then what?"

"Then we put the cobbler in - just take little bits and drop it in. Yeah, like that." He popped a piece of dough in his mouth. "You can eat some," he whispered, "but don't let Grandma see."

Liam shrugged. "Yeah, but he never makes anything for dessert. Grandma always does."

Buffy smiled and decided to be quiet - give the kid a break instead of bug him with questions. Besides, this was a good time to just sit back and observe. It was clear that Riley's interviewing style came directly from growing up in his mother's kitchen. Despite the fact that Mary had barely spoken since all the kids arrived, she was very much in charge - putting people to work if they looked a little lost, jump-starting the conversation with a well-placed comment if there was a lull, working in tandem with Gavin to keep everyone happily occupied.

Riley - who could have easily played the same role, as Buffy had observed several nights before at Leslie Willett's house - stood back and let his mom run things. In fact, he seemed to be taking the same opportunity that Buffy was - watching the others in the room, particularly his kids.

He had perfect cover once Graham and Sarah arrived as Sam ran to him squealing and laughing and pulled him to the table so she could position herself on his lap. The three-year-old was a bundle of energy, though, and Buffy wasn't sure if Riley noticed that his occasional glances towards her were observed by Annie and Kate - Annie with a huge smile on her face; Kate with a much more guarded look.

Dinner itself was much of the same - chaotic and warm and incredibly well orchestrated. Buffy swelled with happiness as she sat on the roof deck with Riley's arm loosely resting on the back of her chair; her stomach full of food, her heart of the laughter and love coursing through this tightly knit group of people.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" Dawn asked. She had come up behind Buffy as they were clearing the table and thrown her arms around her sister's shoulders. "Mom would have been so happy to see you like this."

Buffy nodded as her eyes again filled with tears. She swiftly wiped them away, but not before Dawn noticed.

Another nod. "Right," Buffy replied, gathering up dishes and watching Riley send his parents downstairs as the younger generations cleaned up.

Everything was almost put away when Kate's voice cut through the heavy night air. "Where's your wedding ring, Dad?"

Riley looked at her. She knew exactly where it was because she had been with him when he dropped it off. "At the jeweler's."

"Don't you think it's fixed by now?" Kate was careful not to look at Buffy as she asked, but she had positioned herself so that it was impossible not to hear her questions. "Or did you decide you didn't need it anymore?"

Riley leaned back against the deck railing. The first question had been innocent enough on the surface of things, but with those last two she was obviously trying to start something, and he really didn't want to go there. But no matter what he said, it would just add fuel to the fire. It surprised him that Jack was the one who spoke first.

"He has three whole days before he goes. I'm sure he'll pick it up before then. Won't you, Dad?"

When did this nine-year-old kid become so insightful? Riley thought as he nodded.

"Kate," Sarah said, depositing a stack of serving dishes into the girl's hands. "Help me get these downstairs, honey. Josh, grab the door for us," she continued, practically pushing Kate through the door and following with another armload.

"Hey, Buffy," Annie said as though nothing had happened, "did Dawn tell you that she's going to get Liam to teach her how to skateboard? She said it would be more fun than walking down the aisle. I don't think there's any church that will go for that, but you never know in Cambridge - they're kind of kooky over there."

"You planning on just standing there?" Graham asked Riley. "Or are you gonna help us break this down?" He nodded at the table that he and Eddie were folding up as Dawn stacked chairs against the railing.

Riley glanced at Annie, who was still going on about Dawn's wedding. Annie may have gotten the nervous babbling thing from him, but she had also mastered the art of talking someone's ear off until they had completely forgotten anything they had been thinking before she started. She had gotten out of more than her share of groundings using that method, but he was grateful now. Especially because it seemed to be working - Buffy was completely caught up in whatever it was Annie was now discussing.

He reached down for a chair. "So, Dawn - you're the expert in adolescent psych. What should I have said?"

Dawn laughed. "Oh, no. I am not getting in the middle of that one. I've been there a few too many times to be taking sides."

"There's no way for you to win here, Ri," Graham said. "Just gotta ride it out."

"Gee, Graham. Thanks. Remind me to call you next time my daughter is replaced by Mr. Hyde." Or was it Dr. Jekyll? Didn't matter. Graham got the point.

"That's Mr. Hyde?" Dawn asked. She shook her head. "Oh, Riley. You have led a sheltered life."

Riley put the last chair against the others and turned to Dawn. "What do you mean?"

"Riley," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "They've been taking care of you. Making sure that you're happy. Whether they want to admit it or not, they don't have to do that anymore. So, you know, development-wise, not a bad thing. Might suck for you though. For a little while at least," she said with a laugh.

"That's not." Riley's voice faltered as he realized Annie was still engaging Buffy in conversation; he noticed Jack's concerned eyes wandering between him and Buffy. Was that.? Had they really been doing that? He looked at Graham.

"Just my Harvard-educated opinion," she said, smiling. "Probably just a load of bull."

He couldn't get Dawn's words out of his head for the rest of the night - through dessert down in the kitchen, through the movie afterwards, and through the good-byes after that.

They had grown up faster than other kids - that part wasn't a surprise. They'd had to. Most kids got the luxury of believing that their parents would always be there for them; his kids had no illusions on that subject. But maybe Dawn was right; maybe they needed some weight lifted off their shoulders. Needed not to feel so responsible.

As he closed the door behind Graham and Sarah he turned to Buffy. "So maybe tonight isn't such a good idea after all."

"No," she said, putting her arms around his waist and leaning against him. "Probably not."

He breathed in her scent, for a few minutes letting himself forget about his very unhappy daughter before saying, "Are you o.k. staying a little longer? Or should I drive you home now?"

Riley laughed and shook his head. "Just don't talk while they're doing the baseball scores. He hates that."

"Don't worry," she said, heading into the living room. "Gunn taught me the proper ESPN etiquette. No talking during the beer commercials, either."

Opening the door, he could feel his heart break when he saw Kate's red-rimmed eyes. Annie was sitting next to her on the bed. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

He bit back the 'that was uncalled for' speech. It would be so much easier, but so not the point. "Annie - I'd like to talk to your sister alone."

Annie nodded and stood up, closing the door behind her as she left the room. Riley took her place on the bed next to Kate.

No need to question who the "she" was. "No," Riley answered. "But I'm not ready to say good night to her yet." He put his arm around Kate's shoulder, wincing as she flinched, but glad that she didn't shrug him off. "You don't need to like her, Kate, but I want her in my life. She means a lot to me."

Well, that was a hell of a lot easier than he'd expected, he thought as something in Kate deflated and her tension dissipated. When she started shaking and sobbing, though, he realized there was something more going on. This wasn't just about Buffy.

"I miss Mom so much," she said, trembling. "How is that possible? I barely even remember her."

"I know, Kate." He tried to ignore the catch in his throat. "I miss her, too. I always will."

He pulled her closer, holding her as she cried. "You know," he said as she quieted down, "sometimes - when I think I'm losing who she was - I look at you. And I can't help but think that some part of her is living in you." He kissed the top of her head. "Do you remember when you were twelve and you dyed your hair? Who else would have told you to pick that shade of blue?"

"Kate," he said, gently turning her chin so she was looking at him. "Buffy will never take her place. She doesn't want to." He pulled Kate back as she started to look away. "I don't want her to. And having Buffy around doesn't mean that the pictures have to be put away or that I'll never wear my ring again or that we can't talk about her anymore. It just means we have someone else to tell all the stories to."

"Right." Kate didn't bother to hide her skepticism. "Like Buffy wants to hear about Mom."

"You'd be surprised." He let go of his daughter and sat back against the wall. "I think a lot of things about Buffy would surprise you."

Riley smiled. "Well, then maybe you should listen to Dawn. If you don't want to listen to me."

"Dawn's kind of biased." Kate's look clearly conveyed that she wasn't behind him on this one.

He shrugged and held up his hands in surrender. "I won't force you. You can make up your own mind. Just try and start at neutral - o.k.?"

Leaning over to hug her, he said, "See? You can talk to me about this anytime. No scenes required."

He gave her a kiss and hugged her for a little longer than necessary, as was evident from her fidgeting. "God," he said, laughing. "You are so like your mother." When something was over, it was over - no sentimental lingering. Not Sam's style. Nor Kate's.

At least that put a smile on her face. "'Night, Kate," he said, standing up and walking to the door. He paused as a thought occurred to him - maybe part of the problem wasn't that she hated Buffy; maybe it was the opposite. And maybe forty-year-old widowers weren't the only ones fighting the ever-looming tidal wave of guilt.

"You know," he said, "when your mom and I first met, we spent a lot of time talking about Buffy. They even met once." And despite the tension it brought about, Sam had liked her. A lot. "I think - under different circumstances - they might have ended up being friends. I love you, Kate." Even if you really do turn into a teenager.

He shut off the light and closed the door behind him. One down, three to go. The others made it easy for him, though - as was usually the case in the rare times one of them was singled out for something, the other three tended to congregate. He found them in Liam's room. Ducking the yellow 'Do Not Enter' tape across the doorway, Riley made his way across the debris covering the floor. There were war zones neater than Liam's room.

He sat down next to Jack on the end of the bed. Liam was perched on his desk; Annie in the desk chair. Despite their easier acceptance of Buffy and their willingness to protect her feelings earlier that night, they would never all gang up on their sister. And although they hadn't taken any of this nearly as hard as Kate seemed to, Riley had no doubt that they had at least a little concern as well.

Riley nodded. "But feel free to inspect my work after I leave." He knew that the moment he was downstairs, the four would rejoin and trade stories, which was fine by him - no matter what he said, they needed to come to their own conclusions.

"No," Riley answered, thinking Dawn was right - they really had been letting him off the hook all this time. They had never looked like this before, had never let that sense of loss and uncertainty show on their faces, despite how hard he'd pushed. Which, admittedly, wasn't too hard - he'd always been concerned about making things worse and had been perhaps a bit too willing to accept their assurances that they were doing fine. "She's just missing Mom a lot right now."

He looked up as he saw Kate appear in the doorway. She came in and sat on the bed as he moved to make room for her.

He said, "Having Buffy around." It was more than a catch in his throat now. This time there were actual tears. And this time he didn't fight them. "It's hard not to think about."

He had to stop and take a deep breath. God, this was hard. "...About Mom not being here. I'm sorry that I haven't mentioned her much this week." He had been so busy keeping Buffy separate from his family, trying not to impose her on them - or them on her - that he hadn't realized it would have been better for the kids to know that his own feelings were bittersweet.

"There have been times this week that I can't believe how lucky I am, to have Buffy back in my life again. And then other times when I've missed your mother so much." He was hoping something brilliant would pop into his head; something wise and comforting that would just make the sadness go away. No such luck.

"I don't know how to make that better. I don't know what to tell you about how you're supposed to feel. I wish I did. I wish I could make this easier for you." He looked around the room. Was that too much to unload on them? Why wasn't there some kind of manual for things like this?

"But you don't have to make it easier on me, o.k.?" he continued. "If you want to yell or make scenes." He looked at Kate and got a small smile. "Or whatever, that's fine. And if you don't want to talk to me about it, you can talk to Aunt Sarah or Grandma or Dawn or even Buffy."

"Yes. Uncle Graham, too," Riley said, sighing because that conversation could bring up bigger issues, but yes, even Graham. "My only request is that if you need to have a tantrum and decide to throw something, I'd rather it be on the softer side. And preferably at me, not at any of those other people. Because then you'd definitely get in trouble."

Good. More smiles. Smiles of the 'my dad is such a nerd' variety, but smiles all the same. "Are we o.k.?" he asked, gratified by the looks on their faces as they nodded. No one was what you'd call overjoyed, but no one was on the verge of collapse either. He stood up.

That was about as good as it was going to get for now, he thought, coming down the stairs and finding Buffy and his dad in the living room arguing about some call an umpire had made. "Having fun?" he asked, smiling as he sat on the other end of the couch from his father.

"Stupid umps," Gavin muttered. "The Sox never get a break. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Bed. A few minutes ago." She got up from her chair and came over to sit on the couch, leaning into him as his arm went around her.

"Since when do you watch Sports Center?" he said, thinking how odd it was to be sitting here on his couch with her right beside him. There were still times he had to remind himself that this was real.

Smiling, she said, "Years. And before you ask - Boston Celtics. White and green."

He could tell from her voice and the way her eyes shut down that there was a story behind that statement. Before he could ask her about it, she said, "So, how'd it go upstairs?"

She shrugged. "I've been on the verge of the end of the world. Plus I counseled high school kids. I can deal."

Buffy took his hand in hers, looking down as she said, "When did you start wearing a ring?"

Riley didn't have to ask how she knew he hadn't always had one - he could still remember Sam's observation that Buffy had noticed the lack of rings that night in Sunnydale. He could also remember the weekend soon after where she'd dragged him to every jeweler's shop in Tokyo.

It hadn't exactly been a high point in his and Sam's relationship, which was maybe one of the reasons he was so reluctant to wear it - to him it symbolized an early rift in his marriage, not the bond he'd had with his wife.

He'd always worn it because he knew how important it was to Sam and, later, to his children. But if he had his way, it would stay locked up in his desk drawer, taken out only as a reminder of what he and Sam had managed to overcome - the ghost of the woman who was at this very moment sitting next to him. With an incredibly suspicious look on her face. She'd deal - she had her stories, he had his.

There was a moment of silence as Buffy seemed to consider whether to not to push the issue. "So," she said, finally coming down on the 'not' side. "Kate?"

"Could've been worse," he replied. So much worse, he thought as Buffy settled into him, her head going on his chest as her arm went around his waist. Having her this close probably wasn't the best of ideas for so many reasons - his kids' fragile emotional state, not to mention his own. And what with all this reflection, the night should probably be about Sam. But he couldn't help it - Buffy's body against his felt too good, too right.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her, closing his eyes as her teeth gently tugged at his lip and her hands ran through his hair.

"Bad idea," she mumbled, turning so that she was against him. His hands went to her waist, his fingers brushing her skin as her shirt hitched up in the back. She planted a kiss at the base of his throat. "Right?"

"Right," he whispered. "Not enough..." Her skin was so soft and smooth and her breath was so hot on his neck. He shifted and her leg fell between his knees. Her hand was on his shoulder, moving slowly down his arm. "...time. They need more..." She was grabbing his hand and pulling it between them.

"Time," she said. "We have plenty of..." She brought her mouth up to his as he pulled her closer. "...time."

After a few more minutes, she pushed away from him. "We need to stop now," she said, somewhat breathlessly. "Especially with that whole sparring and lack of willpower thing."

He smiled and reached his hand out to her cheek; brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Plenty of time. They could do this any time. "I can take you home if you want."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to go." She took his hand. "I had a really nice time tonight. I'm not ready for it to end." She settled back into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest, head on his shoulder.

Flipping through channels until he found an old movie that they both agreed upon, he put his feet up on the coffee table and promptly fell asleep.

Kate gestured at Buffy, who was stretched out across the couch, her head on his thigh.

"Buffy," Kate said, an amused smile breaking out despite her best efforts to hide it. "You said she wasn't spending the night." She handed him the phone. "Uncle Graham."

"Five-thirty. Much too early for phone calls," she said loudly enough for Graham to hear. "I forgot to put the phone away last night. It was in my room. I'm pretending this is just a dream, though." She left the room and clomped up the stairs.

"Shit," Riley said as he rubbed his eyes, hoping that would help him wake up. In half an hour he and Buffy were due on the river for training with the rest of the squad. To Graham he said, "Don't suppose you're calling to say that training's been cancelled."

"Nope," Graham said, much too cheerily for this hour in the morning. "Had to run in to the office first; thought I'd see if you wanted a ride. I can be there in ten minutes."

Riley sat up straight, groaning at the stiffness in his bones - taking several beatings during a three-hour sparring session plus sleeping sitting up on a couch. Not a good combination. "Yeah. O.k."

"Brooks said he can swing over to Buffy's and pick her up. Said he lives pretty close by."

"Brooks, huh?" Riley said, running his hand through his hair. He looked at Buffy as she sat up and stretched. When did Brooks even talk to her yesterday, much less find out where she lived?

Graham laughed. "All he wanted to know was if she needed a ride. May not be anything more than that."

"No, I guess not." Hoped not. Brooks was a good guy, probably would have been one of Riley's closest friends if it hadn't been for that whole thing about marrying the woman Brooks had fallen in love with. "Buffy's here. She'll ride with us. I'll call him."

"No, that's o.k. It's probably better coming from me," Graham said. "See you soon."

"Call who?" Buffy asked as soon as Riley hung up. "And why are you looking at me like that?"

Riley wasn't sure what 'like that' meant, but he figured it had something to do with that unsettled feeling that he used to get whenever he and Sam were around Brooks. Something that had finally disappeared years ago but apparently had never been far from the surface.

"Oh." She ran her hand along Riley's jaw, smiling at the roughness of his unshaven skin. "Don't think so." She brushed Riley's lips with her own, moving into his lap and throwing her arms around his neck. "He is kind of cute though."

The fact that she was nibbling on his ear made those last words a little easier to take. "So Annie and Kate tell me," he said. And Sam back in the day, in very much the same playful tone as Buffy just had, her mouth and hands doing the same thing. "He's not really my type."

He laughed as she stood up. "You want to take a shower? Graham's picking us up in about ten minutes."

"You know where they are. I'll be right up." He headed to the kitchen to start the coffee, pouring himself a cup when he saw that his mother had already beaten him to it.

"You two looked so peaceful." She leaned against the doorjamb, a basket of laundry resting against her hip. "I didn't want to wake you."

He walked over and took the basket from her, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Early day today. Graham will be here in a few minutes. I'll take this upstairs," he said, choosing to ignore the mischievous look in her eyes. He'd already had that talk with her once this week; was *not* planning to acknowledge Buffy's sleeping in his arms all night. Even at forty - especially at forty - that was not the kind of discussion he wanted to be having with his mother unless absolutely necessary.

"So, you going to tell me what the story is with Brooks?" Buffy asked as soon as he came into the bathroom.

He shrugged and muttered something indecipherable thanks to the toothbrush and toothpaste that he had hastily shoved in his mouth. Buffy stood there watching him, the same smirk on her face that his mother had had only moments earlier.

"You are so lucky," she said as the doorbell rang. "I was going to have to beat it out of you."

"Guess I'll have to take a rain check," he said, rinsing out his mouth and taking the towel that she handed to him.

After pulling him down for a kiss, she said, "Guess so." She followed him out of the room.

The man leaned forward and turned on the desk lamp. He knew he had chosen well this time. The particulars were just as she liked - tall and lanky, but not too thin. She liked the ones with muscle. Or at least he thought she did; the signs she sent were a bit cryptic. And he assumed she was the one sending the signs because who else would? But regardless - if he was reading those signs right, she hadn't been thrilled with the last few.

He was in a difficult position - after all, it wasn't as though he could just choose someone off the street and pull the guy in. There were details that needed to be attended to; things that depended on more than a physical type.

He pulled the file closer and opened it. This one was risky. For one thing, he was too close - unlike with the others, connections could be made. But for another, this one was a warrior - heading in with eyes open, ready for a fight. In better shape physically than the others, even though they were all in exceedingly good health. This one, though, knew what it was like to fight for his life, and put up a fight is what he would do.

That, however, was also what made this one different from the others. And maybe that was the missing piece - that she didn't want someone who would go down easily. Maybe she wanted someone worthy of her; the one who would let her finally rest in peace. And if she was at peace, then this could all be over. What had been a challenge at first had now become tiring.

It seemed that she was tired, too. In the beginning, months would go by before she required a new companion; lately it seemed that a new search began every few weeks. A new search prompted by another body's appearance, deep in the woods.

Too deep, apparently, as some of the bodies hadn't yet been found. Something would have to be done about that, the man noted. Details, details. But not to worry, those things could be taken care of.

The only thing that did worry him was that this new target had too many ties; or, to be more exact, ties in high enough places to make things difficult. Friends who would want some kind of closure - wouldn't be happy until they saw evidence firsthand; convincing evidence. And if the man was right - if Riley Finn really was the one - then there wouldn't be any evidence. The body would never be found.

Ordinarily that wouldn't be a problem - just put him down as missing and that was that. But the stakes were higher here. The Army - certain members of it at least - wouldn't let it rest there. A body was necessary. A body that could somehow be identified as Finn, but could also withstand the tests that were sure to follow - DNA, dental, and body scans. And the i.d. chips - mustn't forget those. It was a good thing they had been noted in the file, but they were an unpleasant surprise nevertheless - just one more detail to deal with.

There was no doubt this was going to be incredibly challenging; something that he wouldn't even attempt if this hadn't all become so routine. But if he could pull it off, then he wouldn't have to concern himself with these things ever again.

It was too bad about the four kids - the ones with children were particularly upsetting. But it was unavoidable. He had committed to this and he had to see it through. He was in too deep to back out now.

The man closed the file and shut off the light. Tomorrow would be a long day, the first of many. But if things went well, he would soon be a free man.