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The first thing she saw when she woke up again was Riley next to her, just as he said he would be. He was lying on his side, his head resting on his arm, facing her as he slept.

She took a few minutes to assess the damage, flexing and stretching her arms, her legs; running her hands slowly down her body, taking note of the various bandages that covered a large portion of it, taking note of the fact that the clothes she was wearing weren't hers.

Well, that was a little disconcerting, especially since she had a vague recollection of someone other than Riley taking care of her.

Get over it, Buffy. These guys are professionals. Given the shape she was in yesterday, it's unlikely any of them were paying attention in an inappropriate kind of way.

Back to the injury inventory: she felt stiff all over, and a little sore, but the bandages seemed like overkill. With the only exceptions being her shoulder and a rawness in the vicinity of her chest, she felt pretty good.

Really good in fact - all heart-a-pumpin' and juices flowing. Definitely good enough to slide a little closer to Riley and slip her hand past the waistband of his shorts as she kissed him awake.

She smiled at the way he responded - his hips shifting forward, pressing against her; his hand going gently to the back of her neck, pulling her close and opening his mouth to let her in.

"So I guess you're feeling better," he finally said, grinning as he reluctantly pulled his head back.

He seemed appropriately happy to see her. Ecstatic in a low-key Riley kind of way. "A little achy." She unbuttoned his shorts in order to get better access. Into his neck, she said, "Incredibly horn-"

"And it looks like Buffy's back among the living again." Brooks appeared at the side flap of the tent and unzipped it. Laughing as Buffy and Riley pulled apart abruptly, he said, "You seem to be doing o.k. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Water would be good," she said, a little embarrassed, but not overly so. Riley was the one who actually had to put his clothes back on. Well, o.k. Button up his shorts. No actual nudity involved. If Brooks had taken another minute or two to show up, though, there was no telling how far she'd have gotten.

She grinned at the thought and eased herself up, thanking Brooks for the bottle of water he handed her. "What time is it?"

Puzzled, she said, "It feels like it happened more than a few hours ago." She grasped at a memory of waking up and having it be dark out. And, come to think of it, she felt way too good considering how badly she'd felt right after the fight.

She nodded and observed him observe her, starting with her vitals, then moving on to the bandages. She tensed as he unwrapped the one around her thigh.

"No," she said, sorry that she hadn't been able to control her instinctive reaction. There just weren't that many men who'd had their hands between her legs. Plus, it was occurring to her that, not only was Brooks the one who had changed her clothes, but there was a whole bodily fluid disposal thing that had to have been addressed in a way she simply did not want to know about. It made for a rather uncomfortable situation - though she'd had plenty of doctors and nurses handle her body throughout the years, it was rare that she ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with them. "Just a little jumpy, I guess."

"Like you've had way too much caffeine?" Brooks shrugged. "I'm not surprised. The way your body's kicked into overdrive, I'd expect that to be part of it. It makes sense. This, however, does not."

She followed his eyes down to her leg. It was coated with a clear, rubbery substance. Her expression showed how not happy she was to have this stuff covering her skin. "What is that? Some weird bear slime?"

"Not that." Brooks pointed to a faint set of marks running down her thigh. "That."

Seeing her confusion, Brooks said, "We use the clear stuff instead of stitches. It doesn't pull as much, but it serves the same purpose."

"Which is what?" Buffy still didn't understand why this was all over her leg, and probably under all the rest of the bandages covering her body. Although it did explain some of the stiffness she felt.

O.k. Was she the only one in the dark here? "But there's nothing there to heal."

"There was," Brooks stated flatly. "Four track marks, each five inches long, an inch deep." He adjusted his earpiece. "Yes, I know you said she'd heal fast," he said into the com-cam. Or so Buffy assumed, given that neither she nor Riley had spoken a word. Either that or Brooks had just gone crazy.

Oh, dear. It would have been better if it were Brooks going crazy, she thought with a sinking feeling as she realized everything the medic was seeing Angel was seeing, too.

She forced herself not to glance at Riley before looking at Brooks' camera. "Hi, Angel." It was one thing for Angel to know that Riley was back in her life again; it was another entirely to have it shown so clearly. Memo to self: when jumping Riley's bones, be sure that no commandos are lurking nearby, especially if they happen to have a direct link to L.A.

Asking her to lie back, Brooks seemed to sense her discomfort as he pulled her t-shirt up enough, her shorts down enough, to take off the bandage that spanned the curve of her waist. He sped through the rest of the bandages, replacing only the one at her shoulder, saying that it still had some healing to do.

That left just one - the bandage wrapped around her chest, basically serving as a halter top. Brooks looked down and then back up at Buffy.

"You know," he said as he sat back. "Riley can take it from here. He's more than qualified." He handed the supplies over to Riley. "I'll get you guys something to eat." Pulling clear of the tent, he stood up and walked away.

Yes. She was definitely hungry. 'Famished' wouldn't be an exaggeration. She probably shouldn't think too much about it though, because it would just make her hungrier and then she'd gobble down whatever he brought her and then she'd be sick. Not that that had ever happened before or anything.

Buffy turned to face Riley, raising her arms so he could unwrap the bandage. This was much better. Much, much better. "It's been a long time since I played Doctor."

Riley's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. As the layers of gauze came off and it was clear her chest was still a bit raw, Buffy could see the worry on his face. She suddenly remembered his holding her the day before, telling her something about a beach. A farmhouse. She remembered the fear he tried to keep from his voice; remembered thinking that it was nice of him to try and make her feel better.

"So that wasn't from you, huh?" she said, referring to the streak of red running diagonally across her chest. "Heat of passion and all that?" Good, she thought, as he let a smile cross his face, a real one this time.

"You're the one who specializes in drawing blood." He swabbed it with disinfectant and then put on a layer of the cool, goopy stuff before starting a new bandage. "What do you remember about the bear?"

"We were thinking," he said, ignoring her, although the smile had returned to his eyes, "that maybe it was a spell or something like that."

"Right," she answered a bit too quickly. "Magic. Of course. That must have been it."

Riley sat back and looked at her, taking in the blush that was spreading over her face. His smile broadened. "You were basking?"

In the most dignified tone she could summon, she said, "I do not bask," emphasis heavy on the 'bask.' She muttered, "You know, that whole cute and cuddly teddy bear thing is such a sham. Give me Mr. Gordo any day."

Buffy again lifted her arms out of the way. "So why was Brooks the one patching me up? Why wasn't it you? Aren't you trained for that?"

"You were a bit beyond 'patching up,'" he said, looking at her for a second before glancing away. He finished the bandage and pulled her shirt back down. "I thought. I wasn't sure you'd make it." He looked down, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah," she said softly, feeling worse about the look in his eyes than she did about the dying part. The death thing wasn't usually that bad; it was so much worse to be the one surviving. "It was pretty bad this time."

The bits and pieces were still coming - she remembered forcing down the pills, remembered thinking that if she was going to have to die again, she wanted it to be with the taste of Riley on her lips. That wouldn't have been such a bad way to go, better than her other times, although the diving thing had been pretty cool; probably the closest she'd ever come to flying.

The bear stuff, though, that was much more hazy. Could it have been magic? It had definitely been stronger than she'd expected. Quicker. "You think it was caught up in some mystical crossfire? Just an innocent bearstander?"

"Oh, come on," she said. "That was at least a little bit funny. Maybe PETA wouldn't think so."

Of course it would bother him - it was a pretty big deal after all, although not entirely unusual given their line of work. There was something else, though: the keeping it in part? The forced control of his inner protector-man? Just general, all-around concern?

She reached for him, her hand under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "Trust me - I can still take out this entire squad blindfolded." She smiled. "And if you use this as an excuse not to take me through the next set of rapids, I'll start with you."

He laughed and she put her arms around him, knowing that otherwise he wouldn't touch her for fear of hurting her. His body relaxed a bit as she hugged him. Not entirely, though - there was clearly something still bothering him. But this would work for now.

She leaned forward to kiss him, resting her hands on his shoulders, letting them slip down his back; stopping when he tensed and shifted.

"Sorry," he said when she pulled away. "Your healing powers are a lot better than mine."

She couldn't help but grin as she remembered the scratches she'd given him the other day. They were still red and raw; she'd noticed it yesterday when he pulled himself out of the water.

"Buffy." He turned to look at her, his face the personification of guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you like that."

"Right," she said. "So then I could be sitting here in Brooks' arms, crying when I woke up and he told me you were dead. I don't think so." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "But, um, just out of curiosity."

"I fell asleep," he said, sheepishly. "Finished checking in with Graham, sat down on the beach, and fell asleep in the sun. Big, fat smile on my face. Thinking about you. Until Joe." He shook his head.

So apparently she wasn't the only one basking. Given the pained look on his face, this was probably not the time to yell, A-ha! however.

She asked, "Was Joe really freaked out?" It probably would have been messy. Horrific in a blood and guts kind of way.

Before Riley had a chance to answer, Brooks appeared at the tent's opening behind her. "Is everyone decent?" Apologetically - as though he was telling her something he knew she wouldn't want to hear - he said, "I know that your body defies all medical principles."

Buffy could see Brady setting up a chair - one of those camping contraptions that transformed from a four-inch long cylinder into a full-size lounge chair. With dismay she asked, "Is this going to involve someone carrying me?"

"No." Brooks laughed as he held his hand out. "But get up slowly." He backed away from the opening and had her lean on him as she got out and walked the few steps to the chair, humoring him. He handed her an energy bar after she sat down.

She took her first bite of food slowly. Perched in her chair, she felt very much the center of attention as Riley, Brady and Brooks sat on the ground, facing her. Too much. She turned to Riley. "So, Joe. Lots of blood. How'd he take it?"

"It wasn't the blood." Riley shook his head. "There's a legend about a princess - a warrior princess. A lot like a Slayer." He looked up at her. "We think he saw enough to make a connection to you."

Saw enough? She may not remember much about the fight, but she certainly remembered what all the basking was about. Thank God for the suntan because otherwise she would have turned bright pink. "What exactly did he see?"

"Thank you, Brady," Riley said, glaring, "for highlighting that fact. Anything else you'd like to add?" At Brady's hasty, 'No, sir,' Riley turned back to Buffy. "Joe saw what you did to the bear."

Of course, it was still the one that started it. That much was clear. And it wasn't as though she had taunted it or anything. In fact, as had just been established, she really hadn't wanted to fight it at all. It was slaying then sex, not the other way around. "I didn't mean to. It just."

Her voice trailed off as she flashed back to an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness, of thinking the gig might actually be up, of realizing that she wasn't at all ready. Softly, she said, "It just wouldn't stop."

She looked up at Riley and saw something in his eyes, something beyond the worry and concern. She looked over at Brady and Brooks and noticed they were studiously avoiding her gaze. Back to Riley. "What? What is it you're not telling me?"

"I don't chew gum," she said, trying to think of how gum would have gotten into her bag. She noticed the glances exchanged between the men. "And even if I did - I read all the warnings. I know the bears root out that stuff. I wouldn't." She turned to Riley. "Riley - I wouldn't have let that happen. I know I don't always follow the rules, but you know me. I don't mess around with things like that."

"Then what's the.?" She realized what the problem was before she had finished the sentence: if she wasn't the person who put it there, then someone else did. Someone who had access to her bag and who had done it deliberately. "Oh." She couldn't help but look at Brooks and Brady.

They had just come to the same conclusion that she had. Brady looked up suddenly and said to Riley, "You don't think. Ri. I mean, Colonel."

Brooks said, "One of the rangers. They're always around and they clearly don't like us."

"If you were them, would you like us - the way we came in here and said to hell with their rules?" Brady shook his head. "They're just doing their jobs."

Thinking about the explanation Riley had offered about the bear, Buffy said, "It doesn't need to be someone close by. Anyone who knows anything about magic could do it with no problem." She looked at Riley. "What about Jessica?"

"Your client? Maybe," Riley answered. A grim smile came over his face. "Or Harry. I think I'd like it to be Harry." He glanced up, his eyes on the soldiers who were passing their unexpected free time with a raucous game of Ultimate Frisbee. Turning to Brady, he said, "Where is he?"

"Fishing." Brady shrugged. "I get the feeling he's not into magic, though. He seems to think Joe is a little, um. kooky. He said it's pretty common knowledge that Joe has a thing about this princess."

To Joe. "Why didn't he just leave me there, then?" Buffy asked. Feeling a bit too school-marmish as she sat above all of them, she pushed herself off the chair and sat on the ground. "Wouldn't that have been easier?"

Hello, she thought. Hadn't expected to feel quite so wobbly there. Too bad the chair wasn't a little more solid. It would be nice to have something to be leaning against right now - not that anyone else needed to know that of course.

Brooks answered, "Maybe he didn't count on you killing the bear. He had to cover his tracks."

"It's possible," Riley agreed, his eyes on Buffy. She concentrated on appearing very steady.

"Why, though?" Brady asked. "I just don't understand what the purpose would be."

"We're getting too close to something?" Brooks offered. He was watching Buffy, too. What - wasn't she able to fool anybody? She supposed it was kind of nice to have them both watching her back. And, kind of, not.

"We haven't found anything," Brady countered. "All we've done is take pictures. Collect evidence from crime scenes we're not even sure men disappeared from. Besides - why would he go after Buffy? Why not one of us instead?"

Riley said, "Someone who doesn't know Buffy would look at her and think she's the weakest link."

Riley gave her a look. "You know what I mean. He wouldn't expect you to be the one who could survive something like that. Maybe he wouldn't expect it of anyone, but certainly not you."

O.k., Buffy thought. Granted. "What did Joe say?" She couldn't imagine Riley wouldn't have asked.

He paused before answering, looking as though he couldn't believe he was actually saying this; that even though he'd gotten the whole gray thing down years ago, he still preferred things in black and white. "Maymaygwayshi."

Mischief? This was mischief? And again with the indignant glare, this time directed at Brooks' com-cam. "Angel said that?"

She hadn't meant to sound quite so outraged, especially because Riley's grin made it clear that he'd responded in the same way. She had no intention of playing the two men off each other. Sighing, she said, "Maybe Harry was right. Maybe it was bad luck for me to be recording the pictographs."

Brooks looked up. The skepticism about his own theory was clear on his face. "Maybe whoever it was knew she would be the one to survive. Maybe they didn't want to kill her. Just scare her - us - off."

"But we haven't found anything," Brady repeated, exasperated. "Why would anyone care?"

Buffy looked at Riley. He'd be absolutely furious at her for even thinking this, let alone for actually saying it out loud. Not that she even needed to say it; he knew what she was thinking.

Riley ran his hands through his hair, letting them rest behind his head for a minute before turning and reaching into the tent. Buffy wasn't surprised that he had two com-cams in his hand when he turned back around. Someone must have brought her pack down from where she'd left it the day before.

She took the one he handed her and put it on in time to hear Graham say, "Yeah, we got all that." He sounded a bit perturbed when he added, "Thanks to Brooks and Brady who actually follow the rules that say to have the coms on at all times."

Riley grinned and, completely ignoring Graham's irritation said, "Can you get Ana and Sprague on the line, too? I'm assuming Angel's still here."

Buffy bit her lip. Angel probably hadn't slept since the thing with the bear happened although he would never actually come out and say that he was worried. And how had she rewarded him? The fact that it wasn't her fault that Brooks - and his com-cam - had walked in on her and Riley uninvited didn't make things any better.

Buffy listened to Riley bring everyone up to speed, starting from the beginning since it seemed Ana and Sprague - and maybe Brady - hadn't known much beyond the fact that Buffy'd been in a fight with a bear and had narrowly survived.

She could see Riley's tension as he answered everyone's questions, could see it in the way his muscles tightened as he spoke. How awful that must have been for him. A nightmare. Not his worst one, of course. He had already lived through that. This couldn't have been much better, though; plus there was the added benefit of reliving everything that had happened with Sam.

Without even thinking she reached out for him and put her hand on his knee. He stopped talking and looked at her. For a second she thought he was angry at the intimacy of the gesture here, in this setting, amidst his men. Instead, he took her hand and brushed it with his lips before letting their hands fall to his leg, his resting on top of hers.

She smiled as he continued talking, completely unconcerned about the whole PDA thing. If she had known that all it would take was a morning of fantastic sex and then a near-death experience, she would have done it much sooner.

He wrapped everything up, finishing with the princess/trader legend and a brief accounting of the theories that had been raised the night before with Angel and Graham, and then just now, with Brady, Brooks and Buffy.

"It's unlikely any of you will be affected," Riley said to the other team leaders, "but be careful. I'm not even sure what to tell you to lookout for. If this is magic of some kind, there's not really much we can do at this stage." His eyes went from Brooks to Brady to Buffy. "Now would be a good time for someone to offer a brilliant idea."

He waited to see if anyone would respond. No one did. "O.k. Trust your gut and stay alert."

Graham added, "Riley, Buffy, and Angel, stay with me. Everyone else - happy trails."

"I'm fine, Angel." She watched Brooks and Brady walk away. "Really. I'll be fine." She suddenly realized that Riley had pulled his hand away.

It irritated her. For a lot of reasons. One of which was that she kept flashing on Riley and Angel squaring off against each other in her room, what - sixteen years ago? Why she could remember that so clearly and not most of the last twenty-four hours, she had no idea. That irritated her, too. She snapped, "So what's up, Graham?"

Where did that come from? "Do we need to review?" If it hadn't been clear how annoyed she was before, her tone left no question of it now. "I'm a Slayer. I've been doing this for twenty years - two, zero. Longer than any of you. Yes," she said, as Angel started to protest, "even you. Killing and maiming helpless maidens for hundreds of years isn't the same as fighting demons."

Harsh, but she was getting beyond annoyed and moving on to angry. Yes, granted, they had all been worried. Granted, the bear had torn her apart. But only one of them had walked away from that fight.

However only one of them had survived yesterday, and it wasn't the big, brown, hairy guy.

Besides, there was a reason she was sitting here in the middle of the woods and, as far as she could tell, the goal had not yet been achieved. And no matter how worried she was about Riley, or he about her, they had a job to do and it would get them nowhere to start second-guessing each other now.

She fixed her eyes on Riley, the only one who had the misfortune to be within her sight at the moment. "I'm really good at this. You can talk all you want about shutting this thing down, but I'm not leaving this place until I've found something. If I have to do it alone, I will."

She took off the com-cam and threw it on the ground, standing up and having every intention of stalking off to where Brooks and Brady had joined the other men, down by the water. She sat back down quickly as she was overtaken by a wave of dizziness and nausea.

Right. There was a reason Brooks had made her stand up slowly before when she'd come out of the tent.

Glaring at Riley as he tried desperately not to laugh, she reached down for her water and brought it up to her mouth slowly, concentrating very hard on making it connect with her mouth. It turned out that hand-eye coordination wasn't exactly the easiest thing at the moment, either.

She was grateful that he turned off the com-cam when he did because her second attempt at drinking didn't work out quite so well as the first - which, by the way, hadn't exactly gone swimmingly - and she couldn't really blame Riley for losing the battle he was fighting with composure. At least he managed to turn away after she very indelicately snarfed her water when she began to laugh as well.

Coughing a few times, she took the bandanna he offered her, and used it to wipe her eyes. O.k., fine. Her nose, too. "If you tell anyone I did that, I swear I'll kill you."

He leaned forward and looked down at the ground, the laughter suddenly gone from his voice. "So, here's the thing."

His eyes still on the ground, he said, "I know what your life is like; what you're like. I know you don't need looking out for, and that no matter what, there are going to be things we just can't fight."

She was getting the feeling she was seriously not going to like this conversation. Really seriously - in the way you knew the words 'we have to talk' never meant something good. She looked at him, or, to be more specific, looked at him deliberately not looking at her as he continued, "I won't ask you to stop doing what you do, and I promise I will never get in your way."

This had nothing to do with her, Buffy told herself, hearing the message in his voice before he even got to the words. He couldn't really be doing this. It was all about the shock, all about how what had happened reminded him of Sam. He wouldn't be talking like this otherwise. It made absolutely no sense. Playing for keeps, Riley. That's what you said.

"Yesterday. When you." His voice trailed off and there were a few moments of silence before he finally looked up at her. "I just don't know if I can go there again. I'm not sure I can do this."

She resisted the angry retort that was hovering on her lips, knowing that this was coming from a different place, that yesterday must have been beyond brutal for him; that there was a reason he hadn't been with anyone else in the years since Sam died. As flattering as it was to think that she was the only other woman in the world who could mean something to him, it was more likely that the shock of seeing her had brought him out of his shell just long enough for her to capitalize.

She was a fighter, after all; she knew how to size up a situation and make it work to her advantage, to make it come out the way she wanted. Sometimes what she wanted wasn't clear, even to her. This, however, was not one of those times; not when he was obviously being delusional. "No."

"No?" He was clearly unprepared for that to be her answer. He looked shocked in a 'this does not compute' kind of way.

"I'm sorry," she said, though her tone indicated she wasn't. She moved closer to him, so that she was kneeling beside him. "I know how awful it was for you with Sam and I know that you want to be there for your kids, but - that almost-breaking-up thing you just did? I don't accept it. You're stronger than that. We're stronger than that."

Was that surprise in his eyes? Did he actually think she'd just allow him to walk out of her life again? Unh-uh. Not gonna happen. Not this time.

She turned and swung her leg over his, not giving a damn about what Brooks or what Brady or what any one of those other men right down there on the beach might be thinking of all this.

"We deserve this. We've fought too hard not to get our reward. And, I don't know about you, but I don't think three weeks is enough of a reward." Tilting his head up, she threw herself into the most passionate, most incendiary, most mind-blowing kiss she could manage. Judging by the catcalls from further down the beach, it appeared she'd managed pretty well.

Riley hadn't responded, though, at least not in a way that counted given the circumstances - she was going for a lot more than just a physical reaction.

Watching as he pulled away, she wasn't sure what he'd say. That was o.k. She was prepared to go another round or two if she had to. Still, she was plenty happy when he finally grinned and put his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her to him.

She smiled. Yes, the concern about PDA was clearly a thing in their past, given the way his hands were running down her legs. Fine with her. She had one more thing to say, however; he needed to be sure where she stood because she had no interest in discussing this again.

Pulling away, she looked him in the eye. "You're stuck with me, Riley Finn. I'll be here. With you. No matter what happens."

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her again, stopping when she held her hand up and said, "But I still have the right to be snitty if you get all concerned."

The tents were stowed away and Joe and Morris were loading the packs into the canoes down on the beach. Brooks was kneeling, examining Buffy as she sat on a rock. Riley was standing behind him, thinking that no one who saw Buffy right now would believe she'd been in a death match with a bear two days before, or that she'd been unconscious through yesterday morning, especially given the cheeriness with which she was saying, "So, Doc, what's the prognosis?"

Brooks finished looking at her shoulder. "You're sure it doesn't hurt too much." The statement was uttered with a tinge of disbelief.

"Brooks," Riley said. "You saw it yourself. It's a little raw, but other than that."

Brooks shook his head. "You realize this isn't possible, don't you? Two days ago, there was barely anything to salvage." He put his hand on Buffy's shoulder and felt how it moved as she rotated her arm. Seemingly giving in, he said, "How do you feel otherwise?"

Buffy put her hand to her chest, to where one of the deeper cuts had been. "It's still a little sore. That's it though."

Brooks took her wrist. "Are you still feeling jumpy? Is there anything at all out of the ordinary?"

He grinned and looked away, unable to meet Buffy's eye. Messing with her blood tends to energize her, Angel had said. It's a hell of a ride.

Riley wasn't sure he wanted to know how exactly she'd worked it out of her system in the past with Angel, but he had absolutely no complaints about letting his body be used in that way. Those ways.

Plus there was the whole thing where she seemed to be making it her business to spell out to him that, despite the drawbacks, there were distinct physical advantages to having a Slayer as a girlfriend, seemed to be ensuring that yesterday's conversation never be repeated, which, by the way, Riley could pretty much guarantee it wouldn't be, because - honestly? - he had no idea where that had come from.

The day on the tarmac - the day they'd left for Quetico, when he was so sure she wanted this to be over. There were reasons for that; even after the past week - after she'd made it entirely clear that she had forgiven him completely for what had happened in Sunnydale - there were still moments he couldn't quite believe it.

Yesterday, though? I don't know if I can go there again? I don't know if I can do this?

Of course he had thought about it; of course he had wondered if it was possible to hit that low again and still manage to make it out - that first day in Quetico, in fact. Even in the few weeks they'd been back together, it had certainly occurred to Riley that at some point in time - very possibly at some point in the not too distant future, in fact - that Buffy might not be around.

Yeah, he'd thought about it - thought about it and decided that this was where he wanted his life to be, this was who he wanted his life to be with. He couldn't imagine letting her go again, couldn't imagine choosing to be apart from her. Nothing short of death, and all that.

The only explanation that he could come up with was that it had been a brutal, exhausting, kick-you-in-the-ass kind of day. Yep, he thought, watching as Buffy stood up and stretched. He was pretty much going to leave it at that.

Brooks put his equipment away, saying to Buffy, "So I guess you don't want to take it easy today." Pointedly, he added, "Your first day back and all."

It looked like she was about to say something that might be considered impolite, but she changed her mind and settled for, "No."

Good, Riley thought. Despite his thorough enjoyment of the last twenty-four hours, he was anxious to get moving again. There was, after all, work to do. He nodded to where Joe and Morris were standing by the canoes.

They were almost ready to push off when they noticed a canoe heading towards the shore.

"Again?" Brooks muttered as he noticed the two rangers. "Don't these guys have anything else to do?"

Riley knew the rangers had stopped by the morning before while he and Buffy were still sleeping. Jeff had given Brooks a hard time about keeping Buffy at the camp, suggesting instead that she be transported to a hospital now that she was stable. Apparently, Graham had been pulled into it as well and, in turn, Jessica and the Minister's office. Riley couldn't thank Graham and Brooks enough for leaving him out of it, for deciding not to wake him up at the time; otherwise he'd be as irritated as Brooks was right now.

As it was, Riley was cursing Brady. If he hadn't already taken his team and left, Riley would have made him be the sacrificial lamb and deal with this. The man could talk anyone's ear off, and within five minutes would probably have had the rangers turned around and heading home out of sheer desperation.

Riley wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that they were back on such formal terms. "As I've said before - call me Riley."

Jeff nodded as the boat drifted up on the beach and he stepped out. He turned to Buffy, the shock evident on his face. "Ms. Summers - how are you feeling today?"

Not that Riley could blame him. She had basically been dead when the rangers had seen her, all of two days before.

Buffy was clearly determined not to answer too many questions. In a decidedly perky tone, she answered, "Just fine."

"I thought you'd be in worse shape," Jeff said. He stared at her, completely unable to hide his astonishment. "When we were here the other day, you weren't exactly doing too well."

Buffy shrugged uncomfortably. "Guess I just needed a good rest." She did not seem at all happy with the way the two men were looking at her.

Nor was Riley. "Is there something we can do for you, Jeff?" he asked. "We're a little behind schedule."

Jeff's eyes lingered on Buffy for a few more seconds before he turned back to Riley. "We're actually here for Joe."

"Just a few questions," Jeff said. "It won't take long." He turned to Riley. "Would you mind excusing us?"

Yes, actually, although Riley wasn't sure why. There didn't seem any love lost between the guide and the ranger, so it wasn't as though Riley was worried they were conspiring or anything. He didn't really trust either man, however - Jeff, mostly because he just didn't like the guy; Joe, because, well, he wasn't really sure.

He still couldn't get a handle on Joe. Throughout the week of traveling with him, Riley had barely heard the guide speak more than two words in a row until the day Buffy was attacked by the bear. And even then, despite spending the whole day with the man, Riley didn't feel he knew much more about him.

The particulars were easy: five-ten, two hundred and fifteen solid pounds, late thirties/early forties. Tan, leathery skin; dark brown eyes; and black hair that hung past his shoulders. Descriptors, no problem. Description? Not so much.

The man was strong, no doubt about that - lugging that bear and digging that hole had involved a lot of muscle. Riley was still feeling the effects. Smart, too. Riley had spent an entire day with Joe without being able to find out a damn thing about the warrior princess; he had, however, been somewhat surprised to discover that the guide had just finished up his law degree at Northwestern.

There was also that whole spiritual thing going on. Every gesture, every word conveyed a tranquility that Riley had only seen in religious men. Shamans, Imams, Priests, or Rabbis: didn't matter what religion, what god or gods they believed in - the serenity was universal.

Of course, the evil guys could be just as calm and peaceful as the good ones. That always had to be kept in mind.

Looking back to the other day, though, Riley was almost positive that he'd been initially mistaken in thinking it was shock on Joe's face as he looked at Buffy. Instead it had been an epiphany. Whether or not he believed Buffy was the warrior princess - the very one who had come down from the sky to join her true love - he had certainly seen something in her. Threat? Salvation? That had yet to be determined.

And then there was the whole magic thing: the more Riley thought about it, the more he was sure that they'd had some metaphysical help in burying the bear, even though he'd seen absolutely nothing he could point to as proof.

Sure, he'd been, well, 'wiggy' as Annie would call it, for most of the day, but. Let's just put it this way - the summer before, Riley had spent three hours one afternoon helping his nephew bury a seventy-pound Black Lab. Even taking into account that his grave-digging partner had been a grieving twelve-year-old kid: three hours for a dog; nine, maybe ten, hours for a bear over ten times the size. No matter how you did the math, it didn't add up.

Put all that together and add it to the fact that Joe didn't seem any more comfortable chatting with the rangers than Riley, meant the answer to Jeff's question was, "I'd like to stay."

Jeff started to protest but didn't get much out before Joe said, "That would be fine."

"Very well." Jeff pointedly looked at Buffy, Brooks and Morris until they'd moved out of hearing distance. He turned to Joe. "We're concerned about your safety."

Jeff ignored Riley. Speaking to Joe, he said, "Clearly, Ms. Summers put this group in danger through her carelessness. They're here by choice." He gestured to Riley, Brooks and Morris. "You, however, were assigned to this group by the Ambassador's office. We're offering you the chance to leave if you'd like."

Jessica fucking Cain, Riley thought. If he weren't so annoyed, he would have laughed when he heard Graham say the exact same thing over the com-cam. "And if he leaves?" Riley asked.

Jeff turned to Riley. "I believe the terms were that you'd be accompanied by a guide. If that isn't the case, your agreement is negated and we'll have to ask you to leave."

Leave a national park that was open to anyone in the free world? Yeah, right. Riley started to answer but was surprised when Joe cut him off, saying, "I have no issues here."

"Is there anything else?" Riley said, trying not to gloat. "As I said, we're behind schedule. We'd like to get moving."

Jeff clearly was unhappy with that answer. He seemed to realize it wasn't a winnable fight, though, and without another word he nodded curtly before turning and heading back to his boat, followed closely by his partner.

Riley watched Jeff and the other man push away from shore. Waiting until they were out of hearing distance, he turned to Joe. "I appreciate the support." Following Joe's gaze up to Buffy, Riley continued, "If you have any concerns whatsoever, though, you're free to go. Don't feel obligated to-"

Joe cut him off. "I know she's not the Princess." With an odd smile on his face, he turned to Riley. "I won't mention that she almost killed you yesterday, or that there's no earthly explanation of how she's up and walking today, but." Despite the lighthearted tone he took, there was no doubt that the man had a point he was determined to make. "She fought the bear."

After a split second of thinking he should try and come up with some explanation, Riley grinned and looked down. "Yeah. She did." It really wasn't worth trying to convince Joe otherwise. Raising his hand, he waved at the others, indicating they should come back down to the boats.

He turned suddenly back to Joe when the man said, "Was your wife a fighter, too?"

Joe wasn't listening. He looked at Buffy and then back at Riley. "Would you die for her?"

The words had been uttered without any hint of a threat, in the same tone as if Joe had been asking Riley for the time. Still, it wasn't the kind of question that came up on a regular basis, and it certainly wasn't one Riley had any intention of answering.

Not that he even knew what the answer was - fifteen years ago, it would have been a flat out yes. No hesitation whatsoever. Now though? It wasn't quite as simple. Not nearly as simple, for four obvious reasons: Annie, Kate, Liam and Jack. And even if he did have an idea of where he stood on the issue, he didn't think he'd be sharing his thoughts with a man who he'd only known for a week.

There was a smile dancing in Joe's eyes - he clearly wasn't surprised by Riley's response, or, rather, lack thereof. The guide turned and walked back to the boats. Riley almost jumped when Buffy came up behind him and took his hand.

"Are we ready?" She stood up on tiptoes and gave him a kiss. "What?" she asked, stopping when she saw the look in his eyes.

"Nothing," he said gruffly, before leaning down and brushing her forehead with his lips. "Let's go."

Riley leaned his back against the rock's granite face. It was good to feel the solid mass behind him. It was better to feel Buffy's warmth in front of him, her back to his chest, her arms resting on his legs. He could hear the campfire crackling in the distance; Morris hollering at Brooks and Joe, yelling something about a full house.

"I have no idea," Riley said wearily into the com-cam. He'd barely thought of anything else all day and still hadn't been able to come up with a definitive answer.

"Sorry, Riley," Angel said, clearly not. "I'm not so sure I trust your gut. Last time around, your gut was telling you I was in Sunnydale to kill Buffy."

Riley could feel his muscles tense. He was about to answer when Buffy stepped in, "Graham - do you think Jessica was behind the thing this morning? With the rangers?"

"I don't think Jeff did it on his own," Graham replied. "She didn't mention it, though. Of course, that doesn't mean she had nothing to do with it."

"Angel?" Buffy said. When he didn't respond right away, she said, "Spill it. Whatever it is."

"Whoa," Riley said, as Buffy narrowly missed knocking his head. He watched her pace back and forth, muttering very un-Buffy-like things about Jessica. "Um."

"She is so going to pay. What did she say?" Buffy stopped pacing and in a very unbecoming tone said, "'Oh, Mr. Angel. I think this job needs a big, strong man like you. Poor little Buffy just can't handle herself.'"

"No," Buffy said sharply before resorting to her previous tone. "'Little ole me just thinks that this is a man's job and if I can't have Graham maybe Mr. Angel will be a good substitute.'"

She had a low, vixeny thing going on that was more alluring than Riley cared to admit. "So." Riley said loudly, catching Buffy's attention and trying not to laugh as she practically snorted before plunking herself down where she'd been sitting earlier. ".Anything else on your end?"

It was Angel who answered instead of Graham, clearing his throat - so apparently the vixen thing worked for him, too - before saying, "I want to get back to what Joe-"

"It doesn't make sense," Riley said, cutting Angel off, not entirely sure if he was actually defending the guide or merely picking a fight with his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. "Say he did do it. Why would he threaten Buffy two days later? Isn't that a little obvious?"

"Fine," Riley replied. Whatever. The idea was still the same. "Whether he was talking about Buffy or about me-"

Riley leaned his head back. He was tired and sore and not in the mood for playing games. "I didn't need to be listening to it, Graham. I was actually part of it. But go ahead - enlighten me. Who did you think he was talking about?"

"Sam?" Riley, Buffy, and Angel asked at the same time, all with the same incredulous tone.

"You want me to read back the tape?" Graham said. "Joe says, 'Was your wife a fighter, too?' Riley suavely answers, 'My wife?' Joe says back, 'Would you die for her?'" Triumphantly, Graham added, "See? Obvious."

Riley shook his head. No tape, but Graham usually had perfect recall about things like that. "That's really how it went?" He thought back to earlier that day. "No. Joe was looking at Buffy when he asked that. He was talking about Buffy." Definitely.

"What?" The question took Riley by surprise. He had almost forgotten Angel was still there.

"What, Buffy?" Angel snapped. "The stakes have already been raised. I'd like to know how far-"

Riley, who'd normally be more than happy to sit back and watch Buffy defend him to Angel, was only half listening. Did it matter who Joe was actually talking about? The answer was the same as he'd come to realize at some point during the day.

"Which is irrelevant," Buffy said, glaring at him as she turned to face him. "Because it won't get that far. Could we move on?"

Riley couldn't help but smile. Good thing he hadn't intended that to be some sweeping romantic gesture. Clearly, she wasn't impressed.

Come to think of it, Sam wouldn't have been either. Sam would have just rolled her eyes and muttered something about men.

"O.k. - the storms," Riley said, deciding that the topic Graham had introduced the other night was as good a subject as any.

"Right," Graham said, taking a few moments to switch gears. "According to the satellite photos Wendy's gathered, there's been a storm of some kind on the morning of every disappearance."

"I think so," Graham answered. "It doesn't really track like a thunderstorm - there doesn't appear to be any cloud coverage that builds up or dissipates. Or any precipitation to speak of. It's just a flash and then it's gone. For that flash though."

"Well, kind of," Angel said. "Don't the transcripts have something about sunrises?"

"'Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight,'" Angel answered. "Ever hear that before?"

"That's a pretty big leap to make," Riley said, although he had to admit, he'd had enough experience on a farm to know that spectacular sunrises often meant it was time to batten down the hatches.

Angel's voice was somewhat cold. "You tend to think a lot about how the sun works when you can't actually go out in it. I'd say I've learned a thing or two over the last couple hundred years."

At almost the same exact moment Riley tensed, ready to respond in what probably wasn't a very appropriate way, he felt Buffy's hands travel slowly down his legs in a deliberate attempt to keep him from escalating the tension.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he listened to her say, "If it's some kind of supernatural thing, would it behave the same way? Would the sunrise thing hold?"

"Maybe this thing has a sense of humor," Graham offered. "The sunrise is its way of saying, 'Tag, you're it.'"

Wonderful. As if they needed one more cryptic thing to watch for: butterflies, tall men, and beautiful sunrises that come with a flash storm attached. "Anything else?"

"Sure, why not?" Graham answered. "Our pathologists went over the autopsy reports. First off - the dye that's used for the markings is completely organic; all the components are native to this area. And it washes off with water." There was a pause and a shuffle of papers. "Cause of death - nothing new there: the hearts just stopped working. No indication of any disease or trauma. One of the doctors said the only time he's ever seen anything that clean was from some old guy who died after his wife of sixty-something years passed away. Said the guy died of a broken heart - absolutely no other explanation."

Not a threat, Riley thought. A declaration of love: Would you die for her. He stopped himself from saying anything out loud. He didn't need to add any more fuel to Buffy's widower fire. She'd get there soon enough.

"O.k.," Buffy said, "so this is like Valentine's Day gone wrong - pretty sunrises and broken hearts. Do rose petals show up anywhere?"

"No," Graham answered, "but we do have butterflies. Wait - let me pull up Willow's email." He paused for a moment. "O.k. Take your pick - Serbians believe the butterfly represents a witch that will enter someone's body while they're sleeping and take possession of their soul. Throughout Europe, Japan, Pacific Islands, some Native American tribes, it's the soul itself, returning to earth after someone's dead."

"Whose souls would it be?" Riley asked. "The dead hikers recruiting for their band of merry men?"

"Or." Buffy tensed. With a guarded look back at Riley, she mumbled, "Never mind."

Riley wasn't so sure what that look meant. She clearly had no intention of continuing, though. "Does it fit in with the princess legend?"

"Not that I can tell. Although it does involve her pal - some cultures worship the butterfly as a god, most often as the Creator." Graham was clearly still reading, adding, "In Mexico it represents the earth's fertility. In Ireland, if you see one near a corpse signals eternal happiness, although they also say butterflies are the souls of the dead waiting to pass through Purgatory. Riley - I don't suppose you have anything to add from the Mother Country?"

Well, that was interesting. Riley had never really thought about where Angel had actually been born; had certainly never considered they shared the same heritage.

Ireland in the old days. That would be something Mom would probably get a kick out of. Of course, explaining to her how Buffy's ex-boyfriend had intimate knowledge of the homeland from a couple hundred years ago.

And then there was that whole thing where Angel may have actually killed some of Riley's ancestors. So no, probably wouldn't be introducing him to the folks. "Anything off of the pictographs?"

"Nothing illuminating," Graham answered. "As far as Willow can tell, the pictographs are pretty basic - 'I took my canoe down the river. You came with me.' Stuff like that."

"So no connection with the princess there either." If there had been something, Graham would have mentioned it right off the bat. "Where does that leave us?"

Graham responded, "Ana and Sprague's teams have a few more places to hit. They think they can meet up with you again in three days. Brady's got a place he's hitting tomorrow, after that, he's done. That leaves you guys with two."

Riley could feel Buffy's hands tighten. She leaned forward as she asked, "And then we go into the Bermuda Triangle?"

"Don't sound so excited," Graham said, laughing as Buffy eagerly referred to the area in the southern part of the Park where the guides and rangers refused to go.

"Name me one person on this squad who isn't aching to get in there," she replied.

"Absolutely nothing that shouldn't be there," Graham said. "And it's fairly well-traveled - a lot of people have gone in and out without incident. If it weren't for the guides getting spooked, I don't think we'd have given it a second look."

"What about the forest fires?" Based on the reports they'd been getting, Riley knew the fires were mostly under control, though there were still a few hot spots. "Any limitations there?"

Since Graham was the source of the reports, Riley wasn't surprised by his answer: "Not at the moment. They seem to be under control so you should be able to get to where you need to go."

Buffy seemed to have decided that she would forestall any tension by distracting Riley with her hands whenever Angel spoke. Riley thought that was a great idea, although it did make it kind of hard to talk. He concentrated on keeping his voice steady. "We don't really know. I figure we'll just head in and see if there's anything to be found."

"Nothing like a good, solid plan - gotta love these well-defined ops." Graham laughed. "If there's nothing else."

They said their good nights and Buffy settled back into Riley's arms as he took off their headsets and placed them on the ground. He could feel her relax as he brushed the hair over her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck.

She let him do that for a minute or two before turning and kneeling in front of him. "You're really interested in this princess, aren't you?"

Was that a pout on her face? Was she actually jealous? He realized he had absolutely no idea. It wasn't exactly something he was used to from her.

"What can I say?" He reached out and began to play with the buttons on her shirt, slowly undoing them. "I have a thing for strong women."

When she closed her eyes he smiled, figuring there was no reason not to lean forward and put his mouth over the cotton bra she wore - she'd discarded her two remaining bandages earlier that day, back around mile six, saying they got in the way of her paddling.

She pushed him back against the rock and came forward, climbing onto his lap as she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders. "Don't try and sweet talk me. Do you think she's real?"

Sweet talk? He thought he was doing more than that. Leaning his head back, he said, "I think Joe does."

"Where does she fit in, though? Is she the one taking these men?" Buffy took his hand and stared at his ring. "Looking for her trader-man? What's she going to do when she finds him?"

"I'll tell you what." Riley snaked his hand around her waist and pulled her flush against him. "You be the princess; I'll be the trader. We'll figure it out."

That seemed to placate her for a few minutes, and he was already heavily involved in the kissing when she pulled back suddenly, a not at all happy look on her face as she stated, "He dies a premature death and she's been in prison pretty much since then."

Well, o.k. Good point. He put his hand behind her head and pulled her back to him. "Then I guess we'll have to change the ending."

Riley stood in the clearing, watching as Brooks and Morris went about collecting samples. Last crime scene, make it count.

Well, that at least sounded optimistic. Riley had absolutely no expectation of finding anything even remotely promising here, just as they hadn't found anything useful at any one of the places they'd meticulously examined since they'd gotten to Quetico Park.

The only good thing - although "good" probably wasn't the best word to use considering the circumstances - was that another body had been found not more than five miles away from where Sprague's team had spent the night.

Graham had spent some long hours negotiating with Jessica and the Minister's office, but the end result was that Sprague and his squad would be the lead investigators at the site. They'd have to wait until two rangers got to the location, but once the Park administration was represented, Sprague could take all the samples he wanted.

Graham had set up the com-cams so that anything said by someone on Sprague's squad could be heard by everyone. It would create a lot of noise on the lines, but Riley and Graham felt it was necessary. Up until now everything had been so vague; if one stray comment sparked one good idea then it would be worth it, and the more people listening, the more of a chance that something would get said.

"Body looks the same," Sprague said. "Same markings but otherwise no obvious trauma." Sprague's voice lapsed into a detached tone as he described the location of the body, its positioning, and the surrounding scene.

Riley sighed as he heard Sprague say the victim had red hair. He had been hoping it would be blond, which would therefore mean it was Leslie Willett's fiancé. Because then, at least, she could start mourning; as horrible as it would be, it still beat those awful hours of not knowing if you should be planning a funeral or praying for a miracle. And despite the reappearance of Buffy in his life, Riley didn't have a lot of faith in miracles.

Forty-six hours and twenty-three minutes was what it had been for him, the time between the phone call telling him the chopper had gone down and the time it took for a rescue team to reach the wreckage. The longest two days of his life. Leslie had been waiting for weeks.

"What was that?" Riley asked, his subconscious picking up on something Sprague had just said.

Riley wasn't entirely sure Graham was wrong. "I don't know - ashes, organic material. For something that shouldn't be there but is. Or vice versa. Sprague - make sure to get some soil samples from inside the ring and directly outside of it."

One thing all the scenes they'd examined had in common was a ring of stones. Considering these were campsites and a lot of people used campfires, that wasn't unusual. But a few days back, Brooks had noticed two sets of stones at one of the scenes, which was odd because most hikers would use what was already at a site - no need to reinvent the wheel, or re-lay the stones as the case may be. This was the first scene where they were getting to it before unknown numbers of hikers had a chance to contaminate the evidence. At the very least, it was worth a shot.

He turned his attention back to the scene his squad was examining. Their own ring of stones had clearly been used recently for a fire - whether that was the case on the day the body had been found here was impossible to tell. The pictures in the files hadn't been that extensive - basic shots of the scene taken by park rangers who had very little experience in crime scene investigation and probably even less experience with dead bodies. Or at least dead human bodies.

Brooks shook his head. "Joe said the pictographs were back in the woods a bit. Said it would probably take twenty-five, thirty minutes to reach them."

Riley nodded and tried to tell himself that there was no need for concern. For God's sake - if anyone could handle herself, it was Buffy. And since her run-in with the bear, she had taken to carrying weapons with her wherever she went - on her own she was brutal, but with a ten-inch knife, a dagger, and a taser? Lord help the next thing that tried to attack her.

Of course, there was also the whole thing about believing in Joe's innocence, which Riley was really pretty certain that he did.

Not that any of that meant a damn thing when the vision of her body in Joe's arms kept invading Riley's thoughts. When her voice finally came over the com-cam, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"You got it, Graham?" Buffy asked as her gaze slowly swept over the pictures on the granite rock face. She'd been careful not to talk at all on the walk out here knowing Graham had enough to listen to right now, but she figured that was worth a little noise. Besides, Graham had probably set it up so that Riley would hear whatever she was saying, too, and although he hadn't said anything, she was absolutely positive that Riley wasn't happy about her being out here alone with Joe.

"We're heading back. ETA twenty-five minutes." O.k., so ETA wasn't technically a military term. She hadn't quite gotten the lingo down, although lately she'd found herself talking in acronyms on a much more consistent basis. Next thing you knew, she'd be wearing camo.

Unsurprisingly, the pictographs Joe had led her to looked a lot like everything else she'd seen over the past couple of weeks: very pretty, kind of cool. Ultimately inconsequential.

"Hey," she said as Joe took a path that led further into the woods. She looked back over her shoulder. "Shouldn't we be going that way?"

That statement probably wasn't going to make Riley any more comfortable than he already wasn't. Anything that veered from the pre-established path would most likely get him going. Heading into the woods when she was supposed to be heading out of them, well.

She had to admit; she wasn't entirely happy about it herself. She didn't like it when she didn't feel in control, and here, in this unfamiliar setting, she wasn't exactly what you'd call in control.

Her hand went to the hilt of the dagger on her hip. If the demon who sold it to her was to be believed, it dated back to King Arthur's court, handcrafted for the lady-in-waiting whose job it was to protect Guinevere. Truth in advertising? Buffy really didn't care - the reasons she bought it had much more to do with it being old, being pretty, and having "Happy 3-0 to me" written all over it.

The dagger - and the knife, and the taser - could probably be considered as overkill since when it came down to it, Buffy was pretty sure Joe hadn't had anything to do with the bear; she just didn't get that sense. Unfortunately, though, mind-reading was not among her powers.

Well, actually, it was kind of fortunate, considering that little episode in high school. On the other hand, even though she could take Joe down in about two seconds - ten seconds if he had some extra-special powers up his sleeve - it probably wouldn't hurt to let everyone listening over the com-cams know precisely where she was, just in case he really did have something to do with this.

And if this whole Black Ops set-up came equipped with some futuristic airplane that was almost invisible and didn't make a noise until it was almost on top of you, honing in on some secret signal that the com-cam sent up? Well, just call me Neo and color me happy. Would that not be the coolest?

However, since neither Riley nor Graham had even hinted at that kind of capability, she supposed she'd just have to go the old-fashioned route. "What a beautiful." Um, what in the world kind of tree was that? ".big, tall white tree. Is that an eagle's nest?"

So much for the stealthy Nancy Drew stuff - Joe seemed to know exactly what Buffy was thinking. There was laughter in his eyes and voice as he said, "We're in a place called Otter Falls."

"Nice daisies," she offered meekly as they passed a clump of dozens of wildflowers. "They get a bum rap, but they're my favorite flower. Better than roses or tulips or."

Her voice trailed off as Graham came over the com-cam, laughing at her attempt to apologize. "They're called birch trees," he said. "That sign that says 'Olson's Trail' though? That's probably the thing I would have mentioned."

"You know, Graham," she said, annoyed at having forgotten the whole com-cam-that-was-not-only-audio-but-video-too-thing, not to mention missing the obvious directional sign. Nice, Buffy. "You're really not that funny."

Her attention was suddenly captured by the thundering roar of water, and she wasn't even sure if he answered her. Otter Falls, presumably, a spectacular waterfall that appeared below them, seemingly out of nowhere as they stepped out onto a ridge. "Oh."

She was still appreciating the scenery when Joe's voice cut through the din with the oddest of questions: "Do you believe in true love?"

Turning to face him, she jumped back, taken completely by surprise at how close he was standing to her.

Though mind-reading wasn't one of her abilities, space-reading was - part of the whole Slayer deal was knowing precisely where she was in relation to everything else, pretty much at all times; most especially at times when there was very little between her and the raging water swirling below, below enough that the fall would probably kill her long before she even got the chance to drown. Given the particular circumstances, the fact that Joe had been able to come up behind her without her knowing set all of Buffy's senses tingling.

Ordinarily, she wouldn't feel any need to share her thoughts with him, but there was a challenge in his voice, and she had a feeling that there was something riding on what and how she decided to respond.

She stepped away from the brink and watched him carefully as she considered the question, a somewhat awkward one, by the way, given the radio audience. "Like, as in a Danny Zuko - Sandra Dee kind of way? Summer Lovin'? 'True love vows' and all that?" Despite her light tone, her hand went to her hip again, ready to grab her weapon should it prove necessary.

Joe gave her a look that - if it had come from Riley would have been accompanied by a smile, albeit an irritated one, and possibly a, 'Could we come to the point, please?' Seeing as it was Joe, though, who she really didn't know too well - obviously didn't know too well given that she had no clue if he was plotting to push her to her death or hoping to chat her up over a cup of tea - it could just mean that he didn't catch the reference.

Nope. He caught the reference. That was definitely irritation. Too bad since she certainly had no intention of sidling up to him and kissing him in the way she probably would have done with Riley. Not that Joe would have minded any more than Riley - she was a damn good kisser after all.

"True love," Joe stated in a tone that indicated he was not at all joking. "What some people never find once, much less twice."

Oh, yes. Very awkward. Besides, what, after all, was 'true love'? Crazy, intense, I-might-die-if-I-can't-touch-you-early-days-Angel love? Or, mature, adult, I-think-I-might-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you-current-day-Riley love? And did it even count as true love if they kept trying to break up with you? Hmm. Probably better not to go there.

Plus there was always that whole don't answer more than you're asked thing, so she decided to just be safe and say, "Yes."

Apparently, that was all Joe needed, and she relaxed her grip when, after barely a moment's hesitation, Joe turned away from her and crouched down, his attention clearly on something other than her. He took out a knife and began cutting some brush away from a rock covered in moss. The moss came away next; he then brushed away the dirt and stood back.

She had no idea what he was doing; she couldn't even tell what she was supposed to be looking at until the spray from the falls began to hit the newly exposed granite, revealing the markings imprinted on the rock, markings completely different from those on the pictographs, yet incredibly familiar. With an eye still on Joe - and his knife - she dropped to her knees and pulled out her water bottle, emptying it over the rock and washing the soil away.

It took every ounce of strength she had to force herself to stay still as Graham made sure he got the full picture.

"Is it the same?" she asked. She couldn't remember the autopsy pictures well enough to know if the symbols were identical, but it looked pretty darn close.

"Definitely closer than anything else we've come across," Graham said. "I'm emailing it to Willow right now. O.k. - you can move."

She reached out to touch the rock - the markings practically crackled under her hand. As though no time had elapsed between now and when Joe asked Riley his question, Buffy whirled around to face the guide. "Would he die for who, Joe? What is it that you know?"

In that incredibly maddening way he had, Joe merely smiled, not at all offended by the accusation in Buffy's voice, although he did take note of where her hand was in relation to her knife.

She stood and walked up to him, not backing off. "Is it the princess?" At this point, though, she really didn't care whether it was the butterfly one or the warrior one or if they were one and the same. She only cared about one thing: "What does she want with Riley?"

Joe didn't step back, didn't seem at all intimidated by her. He didn't respond to her questions, asking another of his own instead. "Why did you bring him here?"

"Why did I.?" She shook her had and pointed to the rock behind her. "That's what brought us here. She did. What does she want?" Buffy repeated. "What does it say?"

Joe's eyes shut down. He seemed unsure as to whether he'd answer. Buffy was surprised when he finally did. "I don't know."

Could we be any more anticlimactic? Thanks a lot, Joe, for the build-up. "Then why bother showing it to me?"

Again he hesitated. When he spoke, his whole demeanor changed. He came alive in a way Buffy hadn't seen before. "You feel it, don't you?" he asked, looking at the stone. "There's something."

He shook his head, shook himself out of the place he had just been. Just like that, he was back to being the amused, easy-going Joe that she'd become used to. He shrugged. "It seems important. I thought you should know."

With that, he turned and headed back into the woods, leaving Buffy no choice but to follow.

Riley watched Buffy as he built the fire. She was sitting across from him, staring at the tower of sticks he was constructing, without really seeing it. She'd been like this for most of the day - preoccupied and thoughtful; quiet.

That was fine with Riley. His mind had been plenty busy all by itself, contemplating the things Joe had said, the things Buffy hadn't.

Now personally - he'd have gone with the Princess Bride reference rather than Grease. After what seemed like an entire summer of Annie and Kate watching that movie every single night, he felt as though he were on intimate terms with Wesley and Buttercup. Of course there was no way in hell he'd be mentioning the word "princess" to Buffy again unless absolutely necessary.

Riley figured she was aware he'd heard her answer to Joe, although he didn't know if her 'yes' was in response to the believing-in-true-love thing, or to whether it could happen twice. He had to be honest - he wasn't entirely sure where he stood on the issue himself.

There was no denying Buffy had been the first woman he'd ever loved - with an intensity and fervor that was probably only possible with that first real love, only possible when you didn't have the scars that accompanied the inevitable heartbreak; scars that formed the basis of your defenses the second time around.

Had that been true love? To him, the phrase implied that both parties had to be in agreement, and Buffy certainly hadn't been. Not back then at least.

Sam? Yes. He thought so. If, in fact, the concept truly existed. His love for her hadn't come quite as quickly, nor as feverishly. It was strong, though - stronger, eventually, than what he'd had with Buffy; solid enough to build a life together, powerful enough that a part of him would never recover from the loss. And definitely reciprocated; of that he had no doubt.

Riley reached forward and prodded the fire with a stick, glancing at the woman across from him. Did he have that with Buffy? Much more so now, than it had been back then - even after the little time they'd been together, he was certain of that. Did she feel it that deeply? Did it qualify as 'true love' on either of their parts?

Who really knew? Who got to decide? All Riley knew was that she was a part of him - as much as Sam had been. No - as much as Sam still was. And that he felt them both coursing through his veins in what was probably - he laughed - a very unhealthy way.

"Nothing." He shook his head and smiled. Nothing at all. "What have you been thinking about all day?"

She looked as though she were trying to decide what to answer, before finally going with, "What do you think the deal is with Joe? Where do you think he goes to every night?"

Riley didn't think that was all she'd had on her mind, but he had no interest in pushing. If she decided to tell him, she would. There wasn't much he could do to convince her otherwise - he'd at least learned something in the last fifteen years. So he may as well just take her at face value and answer her question.

Despite his uneasiness from earlier that day, Riley really didn't think Joe was behind any of this - and he was pretty sure that had nothing to do with Angel's believing otherwise. Mostly sure.

Buffy smiled and scooted over to Riley. Her fingertips traced a line up his arm as she said somewhat demurely, "So, I was also thinking that when we're done with this mission, maybe we could go away some weekend - whitewater rafting, maybe do some hiking."

"Oh." Buffy looked up guiltily. She had clearly forgotten the com-cams were still live, and that at any minute Brooks or Morris could come on the line, as Brooks had just done.

Riley grinned and shook his head. They'd all been through it - when you first started wearing the earpiece, you were so hyper-aware that you barely said anything. After a little while, you got lulled into complacency, forgetting it was on more often than not, until you said something you really wished you hadn't. Like happening to let it slip to your best friend that your new wife had this particular little mind-blowing trick.

It had taken quite a lot of groveling before Sam had forgiven him - groveling, she later admitted, that hadn't been nearly as necessary as she'd made him believe at the time, it was just that there had been some benefits to be reaped.

Whoa, boy. Don't go there. Not when Brooks was probably just checking in to say that dinner was on the way and to make sure the fire was nice and hot when it got there. Nice and hot. "What's up, Brooks?"

"Why - the fish aren't jumping?" So maybe thinking about Buffy groveling wasn't totally out of the question. Riley couldn't help but glance over at her, nor, apparently, could he hide what he was thinking because she gave him the most evil of smiles and leaned back just enough to emphasize the curve of her neck, the slope of her breast.

Riley forced himself to turn his thoughts away from Buffy. "Another body?" There were still at least three unaccounted for.

"Uh, two actually..." Brooks' voice was muffled, and Riley could hear Morris in the background - "Brooksie - come *on*!"

"...About twenty-eight, twenty-nine," Brooks continued. "A blonde and a brunette. We thought maybe you and Buffy wouldn't mind too much."

Fucking A, no Riley wouldn't mind. And if Buffy's expression meant what he thought it did, then she had absolutely no issues with it either.

"How long do you think you'll be?" His voice cracked as Buffy's hand skimmed over the front of his - suddenly much too tight - pants.

Fine. Excellent. "Have fun." Riley was actually glad that Buffy's hand had disappeared because it meant he could actually speak without being quite so obvious. And since his next call was to someone who wouldn't be quite so forgiving...

Of course, Buffy had no intention of making it easy for him - standing up incredibly slowly, rubbing against him the whole way - so that all he was actually able to manage was, "Um..."

Graham, being no fool, knew exactly what was going on, and had heard enough of the conversation with Brooks to mutter, "Et tu?"

Looking at Buffy as she took off her com-cam and spread her sleeping bag on the ground, Riley said, "Graham..."

Buffy's eyes were sparkling as she straightened up and noticed Riley watching her. She smiled and waved to Riley's com-cam. "Bye-bye, Graham."

Riley's throat went dry as Buffy started slowly unbuttoning her shirt, looking up at him through her eyelashes, playing out a fantasy that he'd had, oh, let's just say for a long time; a fantasy he'd only mentioned once, a long time ago after far too many beers with her and Xander and Anya on a hot summer night.

They'd somehow gotten started on a game of Truth or Dare. He'd gotten Truth - what was his dirtiest desire. After a few minutes of taking their comments about what constituted excitement in the Heartland - since what he'd considered dirty barely tipped the scales for them - he had been more than a little surprised when Anya had followed it up by daring Buffy to give Riley his wish; and what some might call stunned when he realized Buffy was just drunk enough to actually take her up on it.

Within about ten seconds, Anya was telling Buffy she was doing it all wrong, and that she was supposed to get up on the coffee table, which Anya then proceeded to do, demonstrating how she thought it should be done. Buffy - not one to be upstaged - had followed and the two began bickering as they each started to undress.

There had actually been a brief moment when Riley thought that it wasn't the worst of ideas. A very brief moment, during which he'd realized that Xander was having the same thought. They'd looked at each other for longer than Riley would like to admit, before both getting up at exactly the same time and pulling their girlfriends off the table, putting an end to the night.

Buffy had fallen asleep in the car on the way home, and Dracula had shown up a couple weeks later. And that was pretty much that. Well, until now.

She'd reached the third button, and Riley decided that he really needed to tear his eyes away, because, despite how much he was aching to see this, he felt no need to share it with Graham. He cleared his throat and said, "I think we'll be signing off early-"

"You guys are unbelievable - all of you," Graham cut in. "Who's running this thing?"

"Technically, they're off duty," Riley replied, thinking he should at least make an excuse for Brooks and Morris, having absolutely nothing to say in his own defense. He tried to keep his voice steady as Buffy's shirt appeared on the ground beside him. She came up behind him and nuzzled the back of his neck.

Neck nuzzling had stopped which was - on the one hand - too bad. On the other hand, Graham was still on the line and it would be nice if Riley could at least finish the conversation.

"O.k.," he said. "We." Her bra landed on the ground in front of him and he couldn't help but glance down.

"Technically, this is a military operation, not the Love Boat. Don't you-" Graham stopped abruptly. "Was that Buffy's-? Are you kidding me? Don't you even want to know what Willow said about the markings?"

Riley grinned, knowing that Graham wasn't even close to being as pissed as he sounded.

Well, maybe a little close. It had been nearly nine years, after all, since Graham was on the sidelines. Usually it was the other way around, with Riley having to make himself scarce whenever Sarah - who apparently had a particular talent for phone sex - called.

Still behind him, Buffy slipped her hands under Riley's shirt, her fingers sliding around to the button of his pants.

He had to admit - he didn't have a lot of sympathy for Graham. He did, however, still have a job to do. Grabbing Buffy's hand, he stopped her from going any further as he managed to squeak out, "What did Willow say?"

Graham sounded almost disappointed that all he could answer was, "She said she wouldn't have anything until tomorrow."

Riley released Buffy's hand, closing his eyes as he felt her pull his zipper down. "Good night, Graham."

He took off his com-cam, wrapped it up in his shirt as that came off too because - damn it - if Buffy was going to do any more of a striptease, he was going to sit back and enjoy, not wonder if maybe someone else was watching.

He picked up her shirt and held it up. "I don't suppose you want to put this back on and do that thing with the buttons again..."

Her laugh sounded in his ear. "I think I could manage," she said in a low, throaty voice. She took the shirt, and when she appeared in front of him, sinking down to his lap, he saw she'd put it back on, but hadn't buttoned it, instead leaving it hanging slightly open.

She placed his hands on her waist, then drew his head to her neck, sighing as his lips brushed her skin. She let his hands wander, shivering as he grazed and teased, but stopping him as he began to take the shirt off. "That comes last," she whispered and pulled back, standing up and moving a few feet away.

O.k., he would have said if his voice could get past the lump in his throat. Your choice. It's all good. Really, really good.

She gave him that evil smile again as her hands went to her waist and she spent much more time than was actually necessary unbuttoning her pants - cargo pants by the way, which, for reasons Riley couldn't explain any better than the stripping thing, had been a turn-on for him since the day he discovered, well, turn-ons.

She eased her zipper open and peeled her pants down over her legs, revealing the - yep, may as well just lay him out right now - black lace underneath. Cargo pants and black lace. Yeah - an odd combination maybe, but that was the way these things worked. She walked towards him, her hips right about at eye level. Another few steps forward and he had no choice but to pull his head back, because otherwise his face would be in her-

"You didn't expect me to do all the work, did you?" She looked down at him, knowing full well that in order for him to look her in the eye, his gaze had to take in the bronze, smooth skin stretching up to her neck, and the shape of the cotton shirt as its hem grazed his chin.

There was mischief in her eyes. "I was considering instituting a no hands rule right about now, but - honestly? - I'm not in the mood to wait that long."

He leaned forward and put his mouth to the lace and kissed her, his hand running up the backs of her thighs. The lace was rough against his tongue as he pressed into her, pushing harder when he heard her intake of breath and felt her hands in his hair, clutching him.

"Riley..." She pulled his head away yet kept him close enough for his tongue to hit all the high points - dipping into her navel, skimming over her breast, tracing the contour of her neck - as she slid down.

Her hands went down his sides, thumbs hooking into his waistband. She grinded her hips into him, pressed her chest against him, as she put her mouth to his neck and whispered some fantasies of her own, most of which would, unfortunately, have to wait until she had him back in her bed with all its handy places to tie-

"Buffy," he gasped through clenched teeth. This particular combination of things she'd put together had brought him to the edge before she'd even touched him. Now? With her actually being in quite stimulating contact while she described in detail a variety of activities that put to shame his concept of dirty, even after taking into account his much broader experience over the last sixteen years...

"We either need to get the rest of these clothes off, or you need to stop talking," he said. Because otherwise it was about to get very messy.

She grinned and stood up, reaching her hand out to pull him up, too. She was beyond sexy - with her tousled hair, her flushed skin, and her shirt still hanging slightly open. He stood and let her lead him to the sleeping bag.

And then there was the black lace, he thought, as she lay down and lifted her hips so he could pull it off of her. Couldn't forget that.

He shed his own clothes and lowered himself to her. She still wore the shirt, and he had to admit, there was something about the way it fell across her body - half on, half off - that he found incredibly erotic, knowing that what lay underneath was his for the taking.

This time she let him push the shirt off her shoulders and put his mouth to her breast, his hand going down to her hip, as his tongue went to work. Her knee was making its way up his thigh, and she was shifting underneath him, opening herself up and pulling him in, completely dominating him despite having her back to the ground.

Groaning as he felt her tighten around him, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the way her body moved against him, the way his body was responding - pulsing, throbbing. He was only barely hanging on to control, forcing himself to last as long as humanly possible because he was not at all ready for this to come to an end.

She lifted her head up and put her lips to his. "Riley..." she said into his mouth, her tongue lingering as she drew out the word.

"Mmm?" Her hands were at the small of his back and her fingers fanned out, moving slowly to his thighs. God...

She clearly had decided to make this all about him, pleasuring him - a word he'd had no idea of what it truly meant until this moment - ensuring his every desire was attended to. He clutched the sleeping bag, desperate to find something to keep him grounded as her hands went to work. There were actually lights exploding in his head. Sweet fucking Je-

Her voice surprised him - he'd completely forgotten she'd said something only seconds before, something he'd even responded to, albeit in a half-hearted kind of way.

There was a huskiness as she spoke, which made the command that much more enticing. "I want to see you when I make you come."

His eyes flew open as she thrust her hips upwards to emphasize the point, sending a wave of heat rushing through him.

Keep them open? How about keeping them from rolling back into his head? Not that he could concentrate on either one of those things - right about now he was just barely managing to breathe. Especially now that she'd reached between them and was massaging his-

"Open," she said again, her own voice somewhat breathless, as his eyes fluttered closed.

Right. Open. If he'd been the begging type, right about now he'd be on his hands and knees. Which, come to think of it, he kind of was.

She was looking up at him, staring at him with an intensity that didn't waver, despite her quick, sudden breaths. His hand went to her hair, clenching as the pressure built, as he felt himself start to tremble and felt her pushing him over the edge. She grabbed at his hands and thrust into him, over and over, more quickly as he gasped for breath, moaning her name. Dying as she jacked up the friction, played up the slick, slippery skin; as she twisted beneath him, her eyes never leaving his despite her own obvious struggle for control.

He was driving into her - harder as he heard her grunt, as he saw her lose her focus for just a second, just a split second before she forced herself to come back to him.

Trembling became quaking, and an unbearable flash of fire overtook him, bringing tears to his eyes. She smiled as he spilled into her, crying out and forcing himself to keep from collapsing until her hands went to his face and she pulled him down into a frenzied, unfocused kiss, her body finally reacting, releasing; not losing the connection with him until she became still and let her hands slip away.

There were tears in her eyes when she looked back, probably because her hair was threaded through his fingers, tangled and pulled much too tight. "Sorry." He would have said more, but at the moment, he wasn't too sure he was capable of it. That had been intense, to say the least.

"It wasn't exactly fair of me," she said as he disentangled his hand. "I kind of pulled out all the stops."

"Uh, yeah." Fuck yeah. He shifted so that he was no longer on top of her. "I noticed."

"Bet you didn't think I remembered that." She rolled onto her side, her head even with his. "By the way, I am so much better at that than Anya ever was."

"The, um, stripping?" No complaints here, he thought as she grinned, looking plenty pleased with herself. Which she should; he was plenty pleased with her himself.

He leaned over and kissed her. "And that eye thing?" Watching the warrior be tamed, watching her fight for control. "That was pretty hot."

O.k. What the hell just happened? "It was supposed to be, wasn't it?" He put his hand to her chin and gently turned her head back towards him. "Buffy...?"

She hesitated, looking into his eyes as though she was searching for something, as though she didn't quite trust him. Given his track record, he couldn't entirely blame her. "Buffy, I swear I will never try and break up with you again."

She smiled - the kind of smile that said, That's sweet, but not at all what I'm getting at here. Turning away again, it was a few minutes before she finally said, "We're not just about the sex, right?"

Sitting up, she put her arms around her knees. Her hand fell to the sleeping bag and she began playing with the zipper. "I mean... This thing we have going - it's different this time, right?" Looking at him again, her eyes practically pleading, she added, "We're so much more than what we were, aren't we?"

So that's what this was all about. There had been something more that she'd been thinking about all day. Sitting up, he murmured the phrase Joe had said to her, "True love."

Her gaze was solemn. "At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I just..." Her eyes returned to the sleeping bag, again examining what seemed to be an incredibly interesting zipper. "I've never quite felt this way before. This..." She shrugged. "...Strong."

He stared at her, a little bit in shock, knowing how much it meant for her to think that, much less actually say it.

There was no doubt in his mind that she loved him. At least not any more; not now, after everything that had happened in the past few weeks, after she'd proven more than once that it truly was different for her.

She was watching him, waiting for him to respond. Looking quite apprehensive, in fact.

"Buffy..." He was feeling kind of stunned. Not quite as much as when she'd said she had come after him that night in Sunnydale. Almost, though. Almost. "Yes." She visibly relaxed as he took her hand. "This is different." He could feel the heat rise to his face. "And I'm not just saying this because, um..." How to put it exactly?

"Because that was the best sexual experience of your life?" she finished for him, a wicked look in her eye.

Well, yes. He grinned. "Do you want to keep talking? Or would you rather I show my appreciation?"

Laying back and reaching out for him, she smiled and said, "Appreciation, please. I'm all about the appreciation."

"Buffy." Riley reached out and shook her shoulder gently, trying to wake her up.

"Mmm?" Her eyes were still closed as she turned to Riley and burrowed into his chest.

He lifted his chin, indicating she should look out the tent's opening, up at the sky.

She turned her head, sitting up suddenly as she saw the sky exploding into blue, green and purple. Streaks of light flashed like dozens of shooting stars. "Riley." She scrambled for her clothes, muttering something about Angel or Giles usually giving her some warning when something like this was about to happen.

Riley couldn't deny he got a little caught up in the moment - o.k., yes, instantly hard - as the Slayer suddenly appeared next to him: her hair a little wild, her eyes flashing. And watching her strap her knife to her thigh was, if possible, even more arousing.

"Riley," she said sharply, kneeling over him as she buttoned her shirt, clearly wondering why he hadn't gotten his butt out of bed yet, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. She glanced out the opening of the tent, her eyes sweeping the campsite, taking not of Brooks and Morris' tent about fifty feet away. "Come on. We need to do something."

"Do something?" he asked, trying to figure out if he'd missed something while his mind had been otherwise occupied. He glanced outside and then back at her before realizing what she was thinking. Reaching out to her, he smiled and said, "It's not an end of the world thing."

"No?" she asked skeptically, her body still rigid and tense, her eyes drawn to the sky.

He pulled her to him and shook his head. "The Northern Lights. I've always wanted to see them."

There was something in the air - whether it was the lights themselves, an awesome, eerie reminder of the power of nature, or the electricity emanating from Buffy's skin, her own power barely contained.

He could feel her relax, feel her body yield to his arms as she lay back down against him.

"It's like the sky is falling," she said, obviously still not entirely convinced this was a good thing; still on alert, instinctively covering him, his personal human shield.

Normally, that would irritate the hell out of him, set off every stubborn 'I can do it myself' cell in his body. Now, though, with the lights flashing above him, with this potent force of nature - in the form of his girlfriend - on top of him, all he could feel was the basest of instincts fiercely rising up. He hoarsely asked, "You think so?"

"No." It was just the opposite - the rise of Mother Earth; the power of creation. Everything that was primal and primitive, fundamental and untamed.

"How would you describe it then?" she said, her own voice on the raspy side as her lips curled into a smile.

His body was on fire - the desire to possess her battling with a need to be owned by her. Despite the flames burning within him, only one word came to mind: "Heavenly." His hand went to her hair and he pulled her to him, more roughly than he intended.

It seemed to excite her. She leaned into him, her whole body getting involved - from her knee pressing into him, pushing down between his legs, to her tongue at the hollow of his neck, lapping and licking, taking his breath away. "This isn't anything like the Heaven I remember."

Probably not. He wasn't sure what kind of activities they allowed in up there, but he had a feeling they didn't involve the hilt of her knife rubbing up against the inside of his thigh, or her teeth skimming his neck as her tongue swirled around, tracing his scars.

He pulled at her hair, forcing her head back so that she was looking up at him. "Then I don't want to go there."

Her smile was not at all nice as she disappeared from view. Her hair brushed his chest, his stomach, and he closed his eyes in anticipation. He could feel her reach for something, heard her pull the knife out of its sheath, and had a split second in which he thought - no fucking way - before he felt the cold, flat side of the blade being drawn up between his legs, followed closely by her warm, wet mouth - pain and pleasure and uneasiness and want all combining for the most unbelievable of sensations.

God - talk about trust. It was a damn good thing they'd had that whole true love talk just a few hours ago, otherwise, even with Buffy - especially with Buffy...

"Too bad," she said, pausing to take him into her mouth and give him one long, slow stroke with her tongue. "Because that's exactly where I'm taking you."