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Buffy wasn't sure what woke her up quite so early the next morning - it wasn't a cool, morning breeze rustling through the trees, because it was utterly still. And it wasn't the call of the early morning birds, because there was absolute silence. Nor was it Riley's easing his way out of the sleeping bag, because the space beside her was cold.

As she sat up slowly, her mouth dropped open at the sight through the tent's open flap - the most spectacular sunrise she'd ever seen: a million shades of red, pink, orange and purple, the colors more intense as they reflected off the water. The sun was a ball of fire, igniting the horizon as it rose above the trees on the opposite shore.

Brooks had been on watch all night so she wasn't worried that something had happened to Riley without her realizing it. Still, she pulled her clothes on quickly and was relieved to see him down by the shore. She made her way to where he was sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms around them; the com-cam dangling from his hand.

As she sat down next to him, he turned to her and smiled grimly. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He looked.not scared, just solemn.

Until now, everything had been conjecture - a collection of hints and theories that could easily have meant absolutely nothing. Now, though, with this sunrise - this Technicolor sunrise that was too fantastic for words, its colors so luscious, so vibrant that they came alive in front of her eyes.

The Slayer began to stir - her blood running a little faster, her heart pounding a little louder - but she pushed it aside for the moment so she could feel his warmth, just hold him close. She nodded, because - yes, it truly was beautiful - and hooked her hands around his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder, though careful to give him his space. This was preparation for battle - it wasn't time for talking or intruding.

If he was anything like her, he needed to concentrate on the day ahead, not discuss strategy or deal with anyone else's concerns. Right now he just needed to be looking within himself, figuring out how he'd approach the day, finding the strength he'd need to make sure he survived it.

After a few minutes, Riley raised the com-cam to his head, positioning it as he said, "Morning, Command. Alpha Team checking in."

Riley looked at Buffy. It was unusual for Graham to be up this early; more unusual for him to have decided to come in to work at dawn as though somewhere in his subconscious, he knew that his presence was required.

"Try it in color." Riley didn't bother to hide his frustration. Buffy figured it had something to do with the, well, to put it in the words Graham had used a few nights before they left Boston: brand-new billion - a fucking billion - dollar communications system couldn't even show an image in color without going batshit.

There was a second of interference as Graham switched the image from black and white. Silence then, before Graham's -

That was kind of what Buffy had been thinking. Her hands tightened around Riley's arm as he asked, "Any chance there's a thunderstorm in the forecast?"

There was a tapping of keys as Graham pulled up the weather report. "Seventy-eight degrees and sunny."

Though the conversation was about the most mundane of details, Buffy could hear the words that weren't spoken, the things that would never be said, the main one being: this friendship - this brotherhood - of twenty years is not about to end today.

After a full minute's pause, Graham said, "I'll get the team leaders on the line. Angel, too."

Several minutes later, everyone had checked in and Graham brought them up to speed.

"Brady," Graham said, "you're about fifteen miles west of Alpha Team. What are you seeing?"

Graham's voice crackled with tension. "Because if you've got the same sunrise as Riley then we chalk it up to Mother Nature. If not, it means that Riley's been tagged."

"Understood," Brady answered. "Ri - you sure you're seeing something out of the ordinary? This sunrise is pretty and all, but nothing I haven't seen."

"Take off your headsets for a minute," Graham said. "Brady, hold your camera up. Everyone - count to fifteen then come back to me."

Buffy wasted no time in following that order - she knew the "going batshit" was a direct translation for "deafening feedback" as soon as a second monitor was turned on. She'd been one of the unfortunate people wearing her earpiece when they'd discovered the problem. Just to be safe, she gave it a few extra seconds before putting it back on, coming back just as Graham reported, "Definitely different. This is not a drill, folks. So - options?"

Riley said, "I don't think we have any. We're here to stop this thing - we can't do anything if we don't go in."

As he spoke, he pulled away from Buffy, transforming from the man she shared her bed with to the soldier of twenty years. Though she missed his warmth, her own spidey senses were tingling. Time to let the birthright come out to play.

She stood up and walked a few feet closer to the water, closer to the colorscape. "Go in where?" They were still quite a distance away from McAree Lake - 'No Man's Land,' as Riley had called it that night in Atikokan, but maybe they didn't actually have to go that far to find something.

"I'm not saying we should hold back," she added, noticing Riley bristle as she turned back to face him. He'd misread her resistance as over-protectiveness. "I just mean, we don't really have anywhere to go. If we're seeing the sunrise here, then this is the place. This is where the action is going to be."

"I disagree," Sprague said, chiming in for the first time. "Leslie Willett saw the sunrise from her campsite, but she was fine. The fiancé was lost when he went out on his own."

"Well, yeah," Brady responded, "but with all due respect, sir - you're the one seeing the sunrise. And you do fit the profile."

"Brady," Riley said, clearly trying to take the focus off him, "that's the second time you've said 'sir' in two minutes - you feeling o.k.?"

Buffy snapped, "Don't try and change the subject." It was one thing when something was coming for her, it was another entirely when it was gunning for someone she loved.

Riley looked at her, about to snap back when he seemed to see something in her eyes. Something that - if she had to be honest - might possibly be defined as worry. His expression softened.

It turned hard just as quickly when Graham said, "I think I'm with Buffy. You've got some rough territory to cover today. Maybe you should just stay put. Let it come to you."

Shaking his head angrily, Riley said, "I'm not sitting here all day biding my time. Let's at least stick to the original plan and keep moving."

As he spoke, Buffy turned back to the water, her eyes scanning everything in sight on the off chance that she could identify where the attack would come from or what form it would take. On the surface, she was calm - probably almost eerily so to anyone watching - underneath her skin, though, everything was jumping; she was completely wired. Bring it on, Madame Butterfly. Bring it on.

It was clear she wasn't the only one itching to get this started. She could practically feel it coursing over the com-cams: adrenaline surging, threatening to overtake the need to stay rational, to think things through. It would be easier for her and Riley, for Brooks and Morris, because they were the ones that would get to duke it out. The others had it worse - they'd be sitting on the sidelines unable to do anything but listen.

That frustration was no doubt at least partly to blame for Graham's being particularly irritable as he responded to what Riley had just said. "The plan includes some class four rapids followed by a lake that will take you at least an hour to cross. You'll either be too distracted or a sitting duck."

Riley asked, "And the rapids will disappear tomorrow? There won't be any lake to cross?"

Despite the shortness of his tone, Buffy knew he wasn't angry with Graham, he was just lashing out. She couldn't blame him - the anticipation was always worse than the fight.

"Maybe there won't be a sunrise like that tomorrow," Graham responded, not at all convincingly.

In a calmer, much more honest voice, Riley said, "I can't just sit here, Graham. I can't just wait for it to come." There was a pause before he added, "Besides, I'll have Buffy, Brooks and Morris with me the whole time. It won't do anything unless I'm alone."

"That's a load of shit and you know it," Graham said. "Are you willing to risk their lives on it?"

She turned to see them standing about fifteen feet behind Riley, already flanking him. They didn't have their weapons drawn, but they may as well have. Their stance just charged Buffy all the more.

Buffy figured Angel's hesitation was due to an internal debate as to whether or not he should say his only idea was that Buffy should stay as far away from Riley as possible for the rest of the day.

From the look on Riley's face, it was clear he'd read it the same way. "Great," he said, clearly meaning just the opposite. "O.k. then. Brady - we're supposed to meet up with you on the other side of this lake, right? Let's go ahead with that. We can reevaluate then."

Graham's voice was tight as he reiterated his earlier objection. "This just seems like a really bad idea."

Buffy saw Riley's eyes go cold as he threw down the gauntlet. "Are you ordering me to stand down?"

There was a tense silence as they waited for Graham to respond, which he finally did with a quiet, "No." He added, "But I don't want Joe to be part of this."

Riley seemed fine with that. "Agreed. Sprague - are you guys still on track to meet us tomorrow?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Sprague said. "Ana and I each have one more place to hit; our squads will be back together by dinner tonight."

"Let's just take this one day at a time, then," Riley said. "Be extra alert and, Graham - open channel."

The last two words were said with a glance at Buffy. It took her a few seconds to realize why: because it was acknowledging that there was a chance none of them would make it out. If something happened to the team, the soldiers listening over com-cams would serve as the witnesses to the squad's final moments.

Riley continued, "We'll hit the water at oh-seven-hundred. Have your teams sign on then. Graham - I need a minute."

Buffy could hear everyone as they signed off. Brooks and Morris headed back the short distance to the tents. Riley looked at Buffy; she figured he was waiting for her to take off her earpiece, too. When she didn't, he gave her a long, hard stare before turning away and saying, "Graham?"

"Just you and me, Ri." Graham paused. "Well, and Buffy - I figure you know that, though. What's up?"

Though Riley's voice was pure business, Buffy could feel the tears spring to her eyes when he brusquely said, "Wendy's got all my papers on file." Riley talked over Graham's protest, "And there's a key in the top drawer of my desk at home. It's for a safety deposit box. There's some stuff of Sam's in there. For the kids. Sam's parents have everything about the trusts."

Graham cut him off. "I know the drill. And I refuse to discuss this further. I'm out."

Riley took his com-cam off and turned to face Buffy, unapologetic, though clearly not sure what she'd say.

She looked away for a minute and waited until she could speak without her voice betraying her. "Do you trust me?"

There was a moment of silence before a quick, broad grin came over his face. "After what you did last night with that knife? Do you really need to ask?"

Buffy smiled. That had been.unusual - the Slayer coming out to play in a way it rarely did. Last night, though, they'd been in a different zone, on a different level entirely. All the things she'd said yesterday about how much he meant to her? Last night she'd felt it, experienced it in a way she hadn't known was possible. And that had changed everything.

She reached her hand up to his face. "Then know this: I won't let her take you away from me. I have no intention of giving you up."

He looked into her eyes, seemingly liking what he saw there, before leaning in to kiss her - the most tender, the most gentle of kisses, and, at the same time, a declaration: this.thing.they had between them - it had been a long time in coming, and no one was going to get in their way.

She hugged him fiercely, finally letting go when Morris brought out the breakfast stuff. Joe appeared right around then and surprisingly, to Buffy at least, had no problem being dismissed.

In a way, Buffy would have preferred to keep him in sight - he knew more than he was telling them and she wanted to know what it was. It was the right thing to do, however: this was not a day for the uninitiated.

After making arrangements to meet up with him again the next day - in the remote event that today would go smoothly - they bid him farewell, finished eating breakfast, and, after packing everything up, set off.

Hell of a way to pass a few hours, Riley thought as they came out of the last of the series of rapids, grateful that that was the way the cards had fallen - the course had been too intense to think about anything other than getting to the end of it in one piece.

This time, they'd decided to have the canoes travel closely together, not sending one ahead as they'd normally do: no one thought it was a good idea for Riley and Buffy to be the first boat in, nor did anyone think it was any better to have them wait as Brooks and Morris went ahead.

It was all the same to Riley. As long as he wasn't sitting and waiting for some hand to drop out of the sky and pick him off, he was happy to let everyone else decide.

He pulled his helmet off as they waited for the other canoe to catch up. Buffy had steered them into an especially strong current - Riley wasn't sure if that had been intentional or not - so it would be a few minutes.

She frowned. "Graham, that's just too Big Brother for words." The sparkle came back into her eyes as she added, "And I have no idea what you mean by 'it.'"

"I'm sure," Graham muttered. "O.k.," he said more loudly, "See that bend up ahead of you? You'll hit the lake right after it straightens out."

Riley looked up to where the river narrowed and snaked through the woods - the trees were so thick and dark that it was hard to believe there was open water just beyond it, but Graham had pulled out all the stops and was guiding them by satellite. He'd been doing it all day, which was probably why it had taken them four hours to get through the rapids - stopping periodically while Graham would give them a reading of the next series of turns just to make sure they wouldn't be surprised by anything.

Riley smiled and nodded. Brooks had been acting the medic all day, making sure everyone was hydrated and fed so that when the battle came they'd be as physically ready as possible. Riley was surprised there hadn't been an enforced naptime.

"Good," Morris said. "And can we please take these things off now?" He tugged at the life jacket.

"Nope." Riley knew that none of them were happy with the extra precautions he'd insisted on - even Brooks, although he hadn't said anything given his role. Riley really didn't care. It was something they'd been lax about, but something they should have been doing since day one on this trip.

He'd let it go because, well, what could he say? When you played with fire every day - when the bigger picture was an apocalypse or two - you tended to get cocky, ignoring the mundane, day-to-day threats like, say, drowning.

Today was different, though. It was bad enough that he'd put his own life at risk, basically because of impatience. Doing the same with the rest of the team, though. Well, even if they had no more interest in sitting on the sidelines than he did, it was still his decision ultimately, and he'd feel a lot more comfortable if he knew the things they could control were at least taken care of.

He put his helmet back on and picked up his paddle, fixing his eyes on the trees. "Let's move."

Though they'd only just cleared the rapids, he was already feeling antsy. He just wanted to keep moving - every time they stopped, he felt like he was being watched. Which he was, he realized as they went through the trees - by Brooks, Morris, and Buffy at least.

Where did they think he was going to go? They were all within fifteen feet of him for God's sake. And he had no intention of letting his own guard down - his eyes were picking up every movement in the trees, every shadow under the surface of the water.

The trees here were so close - the passage so narrow - that the leaves and branches were tickling his arms, the back of his neck. Maybe he'd be a sitting duck out on the open water, but at least there he'd be able to breathe a bit. This was eerie, to say the least, and given he was the last man in the line - Brooks and Morris having pulled ahead as they went around the bend - he couldn't help but look over his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, the other canoe moved beyond the trees and Riley saw the two men look up. Morris laughed uneasily in a way that did not sound at all promising.

Emerging from under the canopy of leaves, it was clear what had captured their attention: towering cliffs of granite that dwarfed everything else in sight. At the top - at least several hundred feet up - there were a series of images that, even from this distance, looked huge. Riley took out his binoculars.

Brooks, having taken out his own binoculars, answered, "The pictographs, I think. Just." He looked at Riley. "Bigger."

The pictographs they'd seen so far had been a foot tall at most, no more than eight, ten inches wide. These were at least thirty feet tall, maybe forty - without anything to compare them to it was hard to tell. And there was an odd, lifelike quality to them, a vibrancy that the two-dimensional pictographs they'd seen so far hadn't had.

It was partly due to the shadows on the cliffs - crevices and nooks that gave life to the markings in the stone - and partly due to the way the sun hit them, making it appear that they were actually moving, dancing across the rocks. Or it could have just been the whispery cry that happened every time the breeze blew by the cliffs.

"Let me see," Buffy said, holding her hand out for the binoculars. She put them to her eyes and sniffed somewhat contemptuously. "If that's the Princess, then she's kind of plain, don't you think? And much too skinny for you."

He assumed she was referring to the tallest of the stick figures, the one that dominated the scene, though there was nothing to indicate it was a woman. Taking the binoculars back, he looked through them again. Was it dancing? Had the artist done that intentionally? Or was it just an effect created by the shadows and the sun?

Riley put the binoculars away and picked up his paddle. "Nothing. They're pictures." Weird, freaky pictures maybe, but pictures all the same. "We keep moving." No one else budged; they all just sat there looking at him. Fine. "Then give me another option."

Brooks and Morris glanced at each other; neither of them said anything however. Nor did Graham, who Riley knew was hanging on every word.

Riley looked out at the lake. There was a clearing not too far from where they sat - just past the cliffs, maybe ten minutes worth of paddling away. And after that, there was beach as far as they could see - plenty of places to pull over if necessary. It was certainly better then heading back through the rapids because, well, they were rapids - rushing in the wrong direction. And the forest was too dense to even bring the boats in. "Honestly. Tell me what else to do."

He knew that there was little chance of anyone answering, the soldiers - even Brady - all shutting down right now and waiting for their orders. Graham, and possibly Brooks, were the exceptions, most likely thinking about waiting for Brady's team to catch up with Riley's squad and escort them to the other side of the lake.

That upped the chance of casualties, however, with no discernible benefit - there wasn't anything to fight. Plus whatever this was could hit at any time - there was no reason it would wait for Brady to even get there; it would have plenty of time to do what it wanted with Riley's squad in the meantime.

Angel? No clue, other than being not at all happy that Buffy was here in the thick of it and he wasn't. He'd been surprisingly quiet this morning, especially given the circumstances. Probably because he was wishing that he'd never taken on Jessica as a client, that Buffy had never moved to Boston, and especially that she'd never gone to the fireworks and ran into an ex-boyfriend who had already almost gotten her killed once in the past week.

Riley turned to look at Buffy, smiling for what seemed like the first time in hours when he saw her eyes. There was no fear, no doubt. Just fire. What was it Angel had said the other day? Pure, unadulterated Slayer.

Well, good. He had a feeling he was going to need her, because - personally? - he wanted to quit this dance. Let's get on with it, Princess. Just come the fuck out and play.

Buffy nodded, and, seeing the decision in his eyes, faced forward. Riley looked at Brooks and Morris. Brooks smiled and put his paddle in the water as Morris pumped his fist in the air. "Yes, sir!"

"Affirmative." Riley could practically feel the sparks flying off of Buffy's skin as she began paddling. The canoe shook with every stroke, and they were already pulling away from Brooks and Morris. "Brady - where are you? How long until we see you?"

"We're. Hold on a sec." Brady's voice was muffled. "Where are we people? Where's. Aw, come on - where the fuck is Harry? . I don't give a good Goddamn if he's-"

Graham cut in. "They're about four miles from you. They'll probably hit the lake in twenty, twenty-five minutes; they should be in sight within the hour. Once they get moving again at least," he added pointedly.

Brady came back on the line, sounding irritated as hell. "Sorry, sir. Just a pit stop. We'll be heading out again in no time."

Reaching forward to touch Buffy's shoulder - slow her down just a little bit so that they didn't lose Brooks and Morris entirely - Riley felt her energy pass through him. She turned her head and kissed his hand, resting her cheek against him for a moment before straightening up. When she resumed paddling, it was with a little less force. Much better - he could actually keep up with this pace and still be able to breathe. Turning back, he saw that the other boat was doing better, too.

Looking up at the cliffs behind them and giving the pictures a final glance, he almost half expected the figures to skip along the surface of the rocks and follow the canoes across the lake. When they stayed in place, he couldn't deny there was a feeling of relief.

Just as they finally hit a groove again, he felt a current of . something . pass through him.

He shook his head. Though the breeze had picked up a bit, it wasn't enough to be alarmed about. "No, not the wind."

The sensation hit again. "That. It's like a shock. No," he said as she turned back to look at him, puzzled. He looked over at Brooks and Morris in the boat beside them. They both lifted their shoulders and shrugged. "Like pins and needles." But no, that wasn't really it either.

He realized they'd all stopped paddling and were looking at him. Well, Brooks and Morris were looking at him; Buffy was scanning the water, the shore, the sky. Riley did the same. There was absolutely nothing he could see.

God, how he hated this mystical stuff. Monsters? Vampires? He'd take them any day over this kind of thing.

What the fuck was that? Riley thought as the wind was knocked out of him and he doubled over. His lungs felt like they were on fire and the air around him started to hum.

He felt Buffy whirl around rather than saw her. He vaguely registered her throwing off her helmet and muttering something about Slayers not needing body armor, just before realizing she was reaching for his hands. As their skin touched, there was a sudden shock, bringing everything back into focus.

His eyes met hers as she said, "Stay with me, o.k.? I want you to see me kick her ass." Despite her strong words and confident smile, he could see that she was uneasy and - for the second time that day - possibly even worried.

The little episode seemed to be over, however, which was a good thing, because before Riley could even think about what had just happened, Graham came over the com-cams saying, "How close are you to shore?"

"Fifty feet, give or take," Riley answered, ignoring the pounding in his head as he glanced to his left. "Why?"

But the rest of the signs couldn't be any more obvious: it was definitely time to get off the water.

Turning to Brooks and Morris, he was about to tell them to swing port when he saw their mouths drop open. Following their gaze, he didn't see why at first - there was nothing in the sky, nothing on shore, nothing in.

Not in the water - on it. Except that there was no 'there' there, to hijack a phrase. It was like a shock wave speeding across the surface of the water, visible only by the water being churned up - in a Perfect Storm kind of way - as it moved, half the lake being perfectly calm, the other half, a complete frenzy. The trees fared no better, split between utterly still and bending to the ground. And the sky's pristine blue was slowly seeping away, leaving nothing but gray as a dark shadow crept toward them.

All of it happened without a sound - no birds screaming or winds howling - just utter silence with one exception: a low rumble that could be heard off in the distance.

Right now a Great White would be preferable, because - how the hell were you supposed to fight.what? The wind?

Taking cover would be a good way to start. Not that he needed to give an order, everyone had already turned to the shore - it was pure instinct to get out of this thing's way, or at least to not want to be out on the water when it hit.

They should have made it - it was three boat lengths for heaven's sake; he could practically touch the shore with his paddle.

No matter - it was as though the canoes had been hooked from behind and dragged right back out into open water. The gentle breeze of a minute before skipped right over brisk wind to full force gale, its blustery gusts sending water slamming against the canoes, threatening to spill over the sides as the boats dipped and shifted from side to side.

"I'm guessing now's not the time to tell you I get seasick," Morris said, or, shouted, rather as he struggled to say in the boat.

"No worries," Brooks yelled back. "I've got some Dramamine in my bag. Always be prepared, I say."

Despite their fighting for control in a canoe that had turned into a bucking bronco, both men looked over and smiled. Well, hell - if you're going to go down, it's good at least to have a sense of humor about it.

Riley turned his attention away from them. To say things were not going as he had hoped was a bit of an understatement. "Buffy - how about putting that helmet back on?"

As though to emphasize the point, there was another blast of air, punctuated by Morris saying, "Damn it," as his paddle snapped.

Riley looked back over at the other canoe, stunned to see that in seconds they had somehow drifted about a hundred feet away. How the hell had that happened?

Morris was reaching for the spare paddle that was strapped to the side of the boat, while Brooks struggled to keep the canoe on a straight line as the wind pushed them sideways, sending them back towards the cliffs. Their smiles were gone.

Brooks looked up for a second, his eyes connecting with Riley's and he shook his head. It was an acknowledgment that the wind had taken them out of the game.

That didn't concern Riley at all - he only cared about somehow getting to them before they were pushed back against the cliffs. He was not about to sit helplessly as they smashed into pieces. With Buffy's strength and this ferocious wind behind their backs, they could make it in time. "Buf-"

There was another burst of wind and - just like that - they were turned around, headed in the other direction.

"You've got to be kidding me," Riley muttered, craning his neck to see the other boat as the rain started to fall. Huge, fat drops that were falling with such force they hurt as they hit the skin.

Her voice came from in front of him, not through the com-cam. So much for state-of-the-art technology - it couldn't even handle getting a little wet?

And it wasn't exactly a good sign that when he looked to where the shore should have been, the beach had turned into a sheet of gray, obscured by rain driven horizontal by the wind.

Well, shit. He turned back to look for the other boat - it had completely disappeared. "Brooks!" He couldn't help but try, even though if the com-cans weren't working there was no hope of getting an answer. "Brooks! Mor-"

He was knocked backwards as the canoe dropped and then rose just as suddenly. Buffy was still holding onto her oar, leaning forward into the wind and paddling furiously in the direction where the shore used to be, to no avail.

"Buffy!" he shouted. "On your knees!" Lowering their center of gravity might help a little.

Right. That was some wishful thinking. With these winds there was a less than zero chance of a smooth ride.

He was at an absolute loss. A ghost princess was one thing; Mother Nature another entirely. Put the two together? Geez, talk about Hell hath no fury. Right now, all they could do was fight to keep the canoe from dumping them into the raging water.

"Graham, I'm not sure if you can hear us." Though it seemed just as futile as everything else at the moment, Riley started reciting details into the com-cam in case anyone could hear. Maybe it was just his audio that was affected and everything he said was at least being recorded somewhere. Plus - hadn't Graham said the storms were just a flash? This wouldn't last forever. If they could just keep-

Of course not. Between the wind and the rain he could barely hear his own thoughts, much less an actual voice. And who could possibly be laughing? They were in the middle of a friggin' hurricane, on open water with no other boats in sight and com-cams that didn't work.

He nearly dropped his paddle in shock as he heard a voice - a different voice - calling his name.

The wind playing tricks on him. No doubt about it. Or throwing Buffy's voice so that it sounded like she was calling him from behind when the sound was really coming from up ahead. Except it didn't really sound like Buffy. Not like her at all - it must have been distorted by the wind. Had to be.

She glanced at him, offering a brief smile before turning back, ducking as the rain hit her face head on. She seemed as unsure of what to do as he did, leaning forward as she redoubled her efforts, even though she probably didn't have any better idea of where the shore was then he did.

Well, that actually wasn't true. She probably had some special Slayer radar that told her where to go.

Did it really matter? Absolutely not. Where she goes, I follow. If that was the only thing he could figure out to do, then, damn it, he would do it with gusto.

His muscles screamed as he dug his paddle in, desperately trying to get enough leverage to help propel them forward. Coughing as he swallowed water - not sure if it was rain or the waves that were washing over the sides - he heard the low, rumbling noise grow louder.

Heard it? No, that wasn't right - he could feel it. He could feel it coming toward him. Could feel it advancing, bearing down, the air becoming charged as it got closer. What 'it' was, he had no idea - he couldn't see a damn thing.

Then - for just a moment - everything froze: the rain hung suspended in the air and the wind ceased its roaring. Not good.

The rain became hail, pelting him with all of nature's force; the roaring wind became an unbearable shrieking, screaming in his ears. And as he looked down, he could see a dark, pulsating mist bubbling up from the surface of the lake, a watery carpet stretched as far as the eye could see.

He tried to move forward, but the wind seemed to be pressing down on him, keeping him in the canoe when all of nature's laws said that gravity should have pulled him out by now. It was pushing against his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Dropping the paddle to the floor of the canoe, he grasped its sides and hunched over as he forced oxygen into his lungs. Struggling to raise his head when he heard his name called again, he was overcome by dizziness. As he finally lifted his head, he could see Buffy bringing her hands to her face, protecting herself from the black sheets of rain that were bombarding her, attacking her arms. She held up her paddle, batting at the water.

Riley couldn't figure out how that could possibly be an effective way to keep the rain out when he realized it wasn't water overtaking her any more than it was a mist rising up off the lake's surface. It was.

Butterflies. Millions and millions of butterflies, their wings rupturing the air, creating an unbelievable noise as they slowly closed in.

Buffy disappeared from view and he fought his way forward, trying to reach her, trying to battle this most bizarre of forces and just get to her. But it was futile - their wings were fluttering against his skin and beating him back. Surrounding him, crawling all over him, under his clothes, coating his skin. A piece of plastic, molding to his face, suffocating him. Keep away from small children and. Fuck.

As Buffy woke up, she could hear voices coming from somewhere above her, voices that sounded distorted, like they were coming from underwater. A man and a woman.

Or maybe she was the one underwater, because everything seemed really warbly. Kind of...bubbly. Not in a good way.

The man laughed nervously. "Speak for yourself - did you hear what she did to that bear? And then she almost..."

Buffy wasn't sure if she had blacked out or if they just stopped talking for a while. It was probably the first thing because she could feel that someone was standing over her, even though she hadn't heard any footsteps.

Graham? Was that Graham? Who was he talking to? Were those other people still here?

Buffy's eyes didn't seem to want to open. Well, tough. She forced her eyelids up, letting them fall closed again when her head screamed in protest at the light that had suddenly been allowed in.

She opened her eyes again. Everything was blurry, and there was an entire team of construction workers playing with power tools in her brain, but yes, that was definitely Graham. And Brady behind him, perched against a table. "Graham..."

She turned her head to see a blaster pointed at her. Pure instinct made her surge up, battle ready. Something a lot stronger than she seemed to be at the moment kept her from getting more than a couple of inches off the bed.

Things started to come a little more into focus: that the blaster was attached to a man wearing a uniform. That there was a woman standing a few feet to the left of him. That steel restraints seemed to be attached to her own body.

He stood watching her, his arms folded against his chest. After what seemed like a very long time - although she may have just blacked out again - he nodded to a second man, one in the same black uniform as the guy with the blaster.

"No, sir." The man moved forward and undid the steel restraints, all the time watching Buffy carefully. The blaster didn't waver.

Everything was very strange, very.disconnected. She could see them taking the things off her wrists, just couldn't feel it. She sat up through sheer force of will. "Where's Riley?"

Graham looked at her very oddly. Probably because she hadn't been speaking too clearly. Enunciate, Buffy.

"Where's Riley?" she said again, concentrating on pronouncing each syllable. "And Brooks? Morris?"

There was a moment in which time seemed to stop, a moment of complete silence and total absence of movement. Graham broke it by pulling a chair up to the bed. He glanced back at Brady.

Hello, Buffy. Brady had been there the whole time. Goodness. Had she not just been looking at him for the past few minutes?

At the moment, however, it seemed that he was very specifically not looking at her. He straightened up and said to the others in the room, "We're out of here, guys." As the woman started to protest, he cut her off, saying, "You can check her out in a few minutes."

When the guards hesitated, Graham barely even looked at them. "Out." He sat down in the chair and ran his hand through his hair. For the first time, Buffy noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red.

"Graham - what happened?" she asked with dread, feeling sick to her stomach. "Where's Riley? Where are Brooks and Morris?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Graham said in a detached voice, "Joe pulled Brooks out of the water about ten minutes after we lost contact with you. He's at a hospital near Lac La Croix. As far as we can tell, he's going to be o.k. Morris is with him there."

"Graham..." She grabbed his hand. This wasn't happening. Was. Not. Happening. "Where...?"

No. He had it all wrong. Joe wasn't there. Hadn't been there. He couldn't have pulled Brooks out. And if Graham was wrong about Joe...

"Graham - no. It was the-" She stopped abruptly, unable to actually say that killer butterflies had, in fact, attacked. "We need to-"

Graham spoke as though he knew exactly what she was about to say. "Buffy - they already found the body. He's dead."

"No." They'd done this to her once before and she was not going to fall for it again. Riley was not dead. Most certainly not. "Prove it to me. Let me see him. I want to see the body."

Looking down, Graham said, "No, I don't think you do." He was battling for composure. It took him a minute or two before he said, "I saw him before they took him away. His body. It's pretty much unrecognizable."

Trying to shake the confusion out of her head, she said, "Took him...?" She could feel her eyes fill, although she refused to cry. If she actually cried, it might mean she believed what Graham was telling her and there was no way this could be true. Absolutely no way. "Who...? I don't -"

"His body was found on some sacred piece of land by a fire fighter." Graham spoke quickly, as though he had to get it all out before he lost it altogether. "Joe's tribe took the body. The land belongs to them. They refused to release him."

Blinking the tears away, Buffy protested, "If you couldn't... If he was. How do you know it was him?" She could feel a panic rising within her. No. No, no, no. There had to be another explanation. "We weren't anywhere near the forest fires. This doesn't..."

"Yeah," Graham mumbled. He wasn't rushing his words any more, wasn't fighting for control. Now he just sounded tired. Tired and old. Very old. "I know. I'm having a hard time with this myself." He reached into his pocket and dropped something into her hand. "This was a pretty big kick in the ass, though. I guess it's what you might call proof."

Her heart stuck in her throat as she looked at the simple gold band. Riley's wedding ring.

She knew she'd begun to cry because she could see the tiny drops of water fall, dropping and crashing over the crest of the ring, rolling down its sides and seeping into the palm of her hand; she couldn't feel it, though, because she was numb. Utterly numb. "I... I don't..."

"Joe managed to get it off the body. He and Harry. They thought the kids might want..." Graham's voice broke. He put his hand to his eyes for a few moments before standing up and saying, "I'm sorry, Buffy. I know this doesn't really help, but I can't remember ever seeing him as happy as he's... As he was these past few weeks."

Few weeks? she thought, watching Graham walk away. Could it really have only been a few weeks?

She lay back down in the bed, closing her eyes and holding the ring tightly in her hand, mostly unable to breathe.

Was that it? Was that really it? One day you realize you've fallen completely and utterly in love with someone; the next day they tell you he's gone. Could the universe truly be that cruel? After the sacrifices she'd made in her life, the sacrifices Riley had made - they weren't even allowed this one thing? Such a small, tiny thing.

When she opened her eyes again, it was clear time had passed - how much, she had no idea; she just knew that she wasn't alone any more. The guards were back, weapons included. Brady was back, too, watching the guards. And the woman - terrified, if her startled jumps every time Buffy moved were any indication - obviously had a job to do, otherwise, she'd probably be clear across the...

"Where are we?" Buffy asked as it occurred to her she had absolutely no clue. This didn't look like a regular hospital room and it seemed very loud. Much louder than seemed normal. Plus, things seemed to be vibrating.

The woman glanced up at Brady. When he nodded, she began chattering - probably not Brady's intention, though he didn't stop her. Buffy couldn't follow even half of what the nurse - Buffy was assuming the woman was a nurse given the way she was checking various things - said. Something about being on a military transport and Colonel Miller wanting to get Buffy back to Boston, to doctors who might know what to do with a Slayer who'd been unconscious for going on fourteen hours, and without Colonel Finn around -

"I'm sorry," the nurse said. "He was..." She stopped what she was doing and looked down at the floor. "He was a very nice..."

As the woman began to cry, Buffy just nodded and turned away, unable to respond as she tried not to completely break down. She vaguely registered Brady telling the nurse to take a break before he sat down next to the bed. There was a faint feeling of warmth as he put his hand on her shoulder.

His touch seemed to open the floodgates, and Buffy was glad she was lying down already, otherwise, the sudden gush of memories would have toppled her, knocked her right to the ground. If it had just been the memories themselves, maybe it would have been a bit more bearable. This, though... This was almost too much, too vivid: Riley's voice in her ear, his hands running down her back, his lips brushing her cheek, brushing her mouth...

She felt it all, felt every single thing. Every single moment from the instant he'd appeared in front of her the night of the fireworks to those last few minutes, when she'd tried to fight her way back to him only to find butterflies everywhere she turned.

No - it went back even further, back to Sunnydale. Back to their first almost kiss. How was it possible that even now - that today of all days - she could feel that moment as if it were happening all over again: the way he'd put his hand in her hair, the way he'd looked into her eyes, the way her heart had raced and her throat had gone dry.

She curled up into a ball, trying to stop her body from shaking and to chase his voice away. It was too much to take. Memories shouldn't be this tangible. Please, God, make this stop. Just make this stop.

Right then, the nurse came back, subdued and quiet. Buffy watched as the woman took Brady aside, saying something into his ear. He nodded and quietly said something about Riley, something about Angel.

More visions came rushing at her, overwhelming her senses - telling Riley about Angel, Angel about Riley; the two men squaring off in her dorm room, both of them ready to fight to the death if she'd asked it of them. Angel holding her the night she found out Riley was missing...

Her eyes flew open. Where...? Oh, right. Military transport. Back to Boston. Without...

"Buffy." Graham's voice was softer this time. His hand was on her shoulder and he was speaking slowly. Or was it just that she was hearing him slowly? Was that possible?

"Buffy - we'll be landing in about forty minutes." He nodded his head towards the nurse standing to the side of him. "They tell me that all your readings are normal and if you can walk on your own that you don't have to spend the rest of the day in the hospital. Unless you'd like to..."

"No." She struggled to sit up, for the first time realizing that she was actually attached to the tubes and IV that the nurse had been checking before. Which, of course, made sense. Good, Buffy. Not so much with the superhuman noticing skills at the moment. "I can walk." Turning to the nurse, she said, "Take these things off me. And..." - having also just noticed that she was wearing a hospital gown, not exactly the latest in fashion - "...Clothes would be good."

The remaining time went mercifully quickly - if a bit painfully, given the incredible pounding in her head and the way every single muscle screamed at her. Once they landed, she even managed to walk the entire way to Graham's car. It took a bit of concentration, which was also merciful, because it did not escape her consciousness that the day they'd parked here had also been the day that the walls had come down, the day she'd told Riley that she hadn't just -

"I shouldn't have let him leave that campsite," Graham said as he pulled his seatbelt on and started the car.

"What?" Buffy asked, realizing that he was waiting for her to close her door before he could actually go anywhere. O.k. Door closed, seatbelt on. Lean back and close your eyes so that everything doesn't move so much.

Graham's voice was pained. "I should have ordered you all to stand down. If you hadn't been on the water-"

His voice thundered in her head as she turned to look at him. The morning sun felt like it was setting her eyes on fire, and the ring that she had been clutching since the moment Graham gave it to her was burning a hole in her hand.

"Graham." She couldn't have this conversation without completely breaking apart - there was far too much blame to go around, most of it sitting right on top of her shoulders - and she didn't want to do that in front of Graham. Plus there was an unusual amount of difficulty in just stringing thoughts together at the moment. "Can we not do the guilt thing right now? I just can't."

She closed her eyes again, by now realizing that she couldn't fight these visions - she just had to -

"You're coming in, right?" Graham said all of what seemed like two seconds later. Had any time passed at all? Didn't it take at least half an hour to get back into Boston from the Air Force base?

"We're...? Where...?" she asked. She opened her eyes, expecting to see her own front steps and her car sitting in the driveway; confronted instead with the brick townhouses and cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill.

"Graham," she said, shaking her head as she turned to him. "I can't. I shouldn't be here. Not now."

Even he seemed surprised at where they'd ended up. It was a long time before he responded. "Sorry I guess I just..." He made an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. "I just need to get through this. Please - I..." His voice broke. "I can't do this alone."

She took a deep breath - forced the air into her lungs - and nodded, getting out of the car as slowly as was humanly possible, almost breaking down as Graham rang the doorbell. Not managing to hold it off as he haltingly broke the news to Riley's parents.

It wasn't until Mary's arms went around her that she lost it completely, her whole body shaking as the visions finally stopped, leaving this incredible, horrible void - like a part of her had been extracted and locked away, never to be freed again. And the worst part was that she had put it there. She'd been responsible for keeping it safe, keeping Riley safe. Sure, Graham could have ordered them to stand down, but she'd been there. She'd been two feet away from him. Yet she was here and Riley was...gone. Just gone. How was that possible?

She pulled away from Mary and tried to catch her breath, tried to stop crying. It certainly didn't help when she realized that Riley's parents weren't even the hard part, that his kids were right down the hall and that they still had to be told.

There was absolutely no way she could follow Graham into the kitchen where they were eating breakfast, fighting over who got to finish the box of cereal, completely unaware that their lives were about to change. Buffy wasn't sure if the screams she heard were actually happening or if it was a flashback to that day when her mother died, Dawn collapsing onto the floor in a hallway that would be imprinted on Buffy's mind for as long as she lived.

Buffy reached out for the wall, needing something to steady herself as standing suddenly seemed to be an issue. Riley's father came out of the kitchen right then and spoke to her, saying something that sounded incredibly kind and yet something she couldn't even come close to comprehending. All she could see was Riley's eyes, Riley's mouth. The man Riley should become thirty years later.

Except that he wouldn't. He wouldn't age; they wouldn't have the chance to grow old together.

Trying to escape, she took a few steps backwards, colliding with the banister and nearly falling up the steps. She stumbled up the stairs, drawn to Riley's room. Not to the bed, which held no memories of him, but instead to that huge walk-in closet, where she sank to the floor, opening a drawer and pulling out a t-shirt that still held his scent. Bringing it to her face, she sobbed into it, stopping only when she was so exhausted that she fell asleep.

Was this just another dream? His familiar voice speaking her name, his arms going around her...

Everything was all turned around - the things that seemed to be dreams were making sense while the things that seemed to be real weren't. A dream is a dream is a...

Nothing. Don't say anything. Don't say anything because that might make it all real and this had to be a dream. Had to be. Because only the most desperate of circumstances would bring Angel here to where Buffy was; here in Riley's house. And she didn't think she could bear it if these circumstances were real.

Her finger went to Angel's lips only seconds before her mouth did, her brain catching up to her body just in time. The tears began again - had they ever actually stopped? - as she haltingly said, "I just keep...seeing him. It's... I can't breathe."

"I know," Angel said, leaning his forehead against hers, his hand going through her hair. Then again, more softly, "I know."

She leaned her head against his chest and cried until, gradually, her sobs became quieter and her body stopped shaking. She could feel the dreams coming back again, even though she didn't want them, not any more. They were too perfect. They hurt too much.

Buffy shifted. Someone was in the room with her. She opened her eyes and looked up to see a strange woman here with her in this strange room. A strange woman muttering something about how - like Hell she wouldn't check on Buffy, and there was definitely no need to have anyone protect her from...

Sarah, Buffy thought, as her mind slowly woke up. Graham's wife. Not a stranger.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Sarah said. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to bring up a blanket."

"Blanket?" For the first time in - o.k., absolutely no clue - Buffy felt like her brain was working. For example, she was absolutely sure that a) this was not a dream, and that b) there was no blanket.

Sarah looked down at her empty hands. "I guess it would have been helpful if I'd remembered to bring one up."

Sarah looked so sad - much too sad for a forgotten blanket. Buffy sat up and reached her hand out to Sarah's arm. "That's o.k. It's only a..." Her voice trailed off as she picked up the t-shirt she'd been using as a pillow. Riley's t-shirt. She looked up, dumbstruck.

Sorry? Did that mean that Riley really was dead? That this wasn't all some awful nightmare? No. That couldn't be true. Couldn't possibly be true.

But it was, wasn't it? That's why she was sitting here on the floor of this closet of all places, because Graham had brought her here to Riley's house, brought her here because he couldn't bear to tell. "Is Graham...?"

Sarah shrugged, her eyes filling with tears as her voice wavered. "Right now he's mostly worried about you and the kids. He'll be o.k. until after the..."

Funeral? Oh, God. Was that what she was going to say? Buffy could feel the tears threatening again.

"Do you want to sleep some more?" Sarah asked, regaining control of her voice. "Angel said you seemed really tired."

Buffy looked down self-consciously. "Angel?" So that hadn't been a dream. She really had almost kissed him. He really was here.

As strange as that sounded, though, she wasn't surprised. Of course he'd come. She'd somehow known that wherever she was, that's where he would be.

Sarah nodded. "He got here this morning - a few hours after you did. He's been sitting with you all day."

"All day? In here?" That was...odd. Angel sitting here, with her in Riley's bedroom. Well, bedroom closet. Still... "Where is he?"

Dinner? It was already dinner? Did that mean it had already been a full day, a full day since...this...had happened?

No, that wasn't true. When Mom had died... If it hadn't been for Dawn, Buffy probably would have slept for days. And nothing had made sense then either. Everything had seemed wrong. Everything had -

That was more than odd. That was just kind of twisted. In a way that very few people would understand; only, really, Angel and Ril...

Sarah dropped to her knees and gathered Buffy into her arms, waiting until the tears died down before saying, "Would you like anything? I can bring you up some food." She smiled, mumbling something about being Italian and having a grandmother who said food helped everything.

"No." Buffy wiped her eyes and managed to smile back. "I'll come down." If Mary could cook right now, the least Buffy could do was show her face. "But, first, I need to, um..." She looked up at the door to Riley's bathroom.

"Oh," Sarah said, following Buffy's gaze. "Of course." She got up. "We'll be downstairs."

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. Maybe if she stopped crying and started moving none of this would hurt quite so much.

Buffy almost made it to the kitchen without crying again, but had to stop, pausing outside the doorway, remembering the night just weeks before when she had slipped into the kitchen, face still flushed from the warmth of Riley's arms around her, her body still on fire from what Riley had just done to her; her eyes bright with the future she had only been starting to glimpse. Now the only sparkling in her eyes was from the light reflecting off her tears.

O.k. Big mistake. Or, rather, the mistake had been putting on one of Riley's t-shirts - a t-shirt that smelled like Riley, thereby reminding her of him with every breath - after the quick shower she had taken. A shower which, incidentally, had also been a colossal error of judgment given that the last time she'd been in it, she had been very much with Riley.

Well, the good thing about having a complete mental breakdown while showering was that the effects weren't quite so obvious. However, if she stayed out here in the hallway thinking about Riley, she would just lose it all over again.

Squaring her shoulders, she put on a brave face as she walked into the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, not prepared for the sight even though she knew Angel was here.

"Three cups," Mary said to Angel, whose black clothes were protected by a frilly apron emblazoned with the words, 'Bake-Off Queen. Iowa State Fair, 1999.' "No, four. I think. Wait."

"Mary. Sweetheart," Gavin said. Buffy watched as he gently took the measuring cup from Mary and placed it in Angel's outstretched hand. "No one's expecting a full meal tonight."

Mary pushed him away. "These children need us to be strong right now. They need to know their lives won't just fall apart because Riley's..." Her voice broke as she said his name. "Because Riley's..."

"Mary," Gavin said, gathering her into his arms. "They need to know it's o.k. to mourn their father. It's o.k. to mourn your son."

"Oh, Gavin." For the first time since Buffy had met her, Mary seemed to lose control, collapsing against her husband as she said, "He can't be... Not Riley."

Buffy bit her lip and closed her eyes, forcing herself to stand her ground and not bolt from the room.

Everything about this was wrong: Angel shouldn't be here, she certainly should never have come so close to kissing him, and Riley couldn't possibly be dead.

How could she have let that happen? How was it possible that she could save the world but not this one man? A man she had promised she would never let go.

Stupid, Buffy, not to have taken the death thing into account, because - unless he wasn't actually dead...

No, she thought, looking down at the ring in her hand. Proof. He wouldn't have taken this off, not willingly at least.

Dead, she told herself. He's dead. This isn't the Land of Wishful Thinking. It's Riley's house, Riley's kitchen. And his mother is just barely hanging onto sanity at the moment. The last thing she needs is to have her dead son's girlfriend of three whole weeks to walk in and raise the most hopeless of hopes.

"Buffy," Mary said. She freed herself from her husband as she turned and held her arms out. Wrapping them around Buffy's shoulders, she said, "I'm so glad he found you again, even if it was only for such a short time."

Buffy looked up, guiltily catching Angel's eye before he turned away. "Mary - thank you for..." For what? Her hospitality? For letting me sleep on the floor of Riley's closet while my vampire ex-boyfriend sat over me? "Angel and I should go. Your family..." Riley's family... "...should be alone right now."

Mary released Buffy from her grasp. "I understand if you'd rather not be here right now, or if it's difficult to be around us, but I have no doubt you would have been part of this family one day and as far as I'm concerned, you already are." She wiped her eyes. "Enough. Graham and Dawn will be back soon and the kids haven't eaten anything all day. I'm sure they're hungry." Mary turned back to the counter.

He shrugged. "I can only stay for a couple of days. We thought you might need the company. And I..." He looked away. "I just needed to come."

She leaned into him, trying not to cry as his arms went around her. The last time she'd been told Riley was dead, Angel had been the one to give her hope. But now. She could tell from the way he looked at her - from the way he held her - that he believed Riley was dead.

He hugged her tightly as she lost the battle, her tears flowing freely again. She hadn't known it was possible to cry this much. Wasn't the human body made up of, like, eighty percent water? Well, she'd probably turn to dust soon if she kept up this pace.

For the billionth time that day, she wiped away her tears. Looking up at Angel, she -

Was that...? Was that hunger in his eyes? She pushed away from him as she very uncomfortably realized that she was feeling the same - she was actually lusting for Angel, here in Riley's kitchen amidst his mourning family and friends.

Although she supposed it wasn't entirely without precedent. Angel had always been that for her - home. Still...

Angel looked just as unsettled as Buffy felt, just as puzzled. And clearly just as awful. His voice was pained as he said, "Buffy..."

She cut him off, deciding to completely ignore that, um, incident. If for no other reason then that it was the one thing she could ignore at the moment. With a gesture that took in the kitchen, Buffy whispered, "Is this too weird for you?"

There was a moment in which she thought he'd say something about whatever it was that had just happened. He seemed to be on board with the ignoring thing, though, as he said, "I can deal." He grinned and nodded towards Mary. "That woman is scary. But in a good way."

She looked over to see Mary stirring something on the stove. Smiling sadly, Buffy said, "Yeah. She is."

"Buffy," he said, grabbing her shoulder as she started to move away. "I really am sorry. You deserved more." He looked around the kitchen. "You deserved this."

She looked down quickly, but not before the tears started falling again. Ignoring them, she helped Sarah set the table and was mostly composed by the time Dawn and Graham arrived with Willow. Until Willow and Dawn pulled her into a hug and she lost it all over again.

Sam jumped out of Graham's arms and somehow knew not to ask where Riley was, though she ran to Sarah and clung to her until dinner was ready. When the kids came down from the third floor where they'd apparently been all day, Buffy wasn't quite sure what to say to any of them, nor did they seem to know what to say to her. Only Annie approached, dissolving into tears and hugging Buffy tightly before taking a seat at the table.

Even Mary couldn't keep the conversation going, and it was a relief to everyone that the phone barely stopped ringing - members of the squad, offering condolences; Riley's brothers, making arrangements to bring their families to Boston for the service. Even Pete O'Hara, calling to say that a collection had been taken up at the gym for Riley's kids - he knew they didn't need the money, it was just that no one was sure what else to do.

Graham seemed to feel the same way, and it was Gavin who finally said, "Mary - you need to go to bed, and kids," he said, referring to Buffy, Graham and the others since the younger generation had retired before the plates were cleared. "You need to go home. Tomorrow's coming whether we want it to or not, and I, for one, would like some rest before I deal with it."

Dawn drove Buffy, Angel and Willow to Buffy's house. "Don't you want me to stay?" she asked when Buffy got out of the car before the engine had been turned off.

If Willow and Angel hadn't traveled so far to be with her, she'd have probably sent them away, too. Everything was getting blurry again and she was so tired she could barely stand. Had she really felt like this after Mom died? Wanting to sleep, wanting to shut everything out - yes. Being this physically exhausted, though? That she didn't remember.

She could, however, remember how she'd been drawn to Angel earlier that day, and how badly she'd needed his touch all those years ago beside her mother's grave.

As she pointed out the guestrooms, she stopped Angel before he even thought about following her upstairs, telling him, "I can't do this again with you. I need to be alone tonight." And she had no intention of discussing what had happened in Riley's kitchen. Not now.

Ignoring the concerned look that passed between Angel and Willow, she went up to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, letting the tears fall once again. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the bed, stripping her clothes off as she pulled the covers over her; chilly, even though the night was warm.

Summoning enough energy to lean down to the floor, she grabbed Riley's t-shirt, the one she had put on after her shower, now thinking that it hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Hugging it to her and inhaling his scent, she cried herself to sleep.

That had been...different. Exhilarating even. The man had almost been caught several times, but that only added to the excitement. He'd been right - this had been the most difficult by far, but oh, had it been worth it.

Everything had clearly worked. God, yes. Quite dramatically, in fact - the man hadn't even been in the thick of it and he'd been able to tell. He almost wished... No. Just serving the Queen was enough. And, of course, the rewards.

So, the man thought, sitting back and admiring his prize. Obviously he had been right about Finn, too.

He held the object up to the light. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Truly magnificent - its craftsmanship absolutely flawless, its colors so brilliant, its design so vibrant. Almost as though he was holding the sunrise in his hand.

Well, he supposed that the Queen had to have figured out something to do with her time. Arts and crafts were as good as the next thing. And if she felt that the service the man was performing was worth rewards such as this - if she thought Finn was worth this - the man certainly wasn't going to argue.

Although, he had to admit he was still surprised she had known so quickly. Within an hour of Finn's disappearance, the object had appeared. Could she read Finn's mind? His soul? All the things that made him different than the others?

The man knew the answer to that question, but how could she? It wasn't as though he'd clapped Finn on the back, handed him a dossier entitled 'military hero' and said, Here - give this to her when you get there. She'll need it to make sure you're the one she's looking for - mind, body, and soul.

Maybe it had something to do with the intensity of the spell. The man hadn't quite known what to do when it hadn't worked the first time. At first he'd assumed Buffy had blocked him - that she'd somehow done it after the bear had attacked. As soon as he saw her, though, he knew she couldn't have. Those injuries hadn't been faked.

Had there been too many people around? Had Finn been too focused on Buffy? Had the man himself been too rushed? He still wasn't sure what exactly had gone wrong that day, which is why he'd boosted the spell the second time around - intensified the potions, done the spell twice even - once in the morning and once right before the storm. Anything that could possibly override whatever it was that allowed Finn to escape the first time; to compensate for the fact that Finn wasn't alone, that Buffy was so close...

He'd tried, of course, to separate the two. The bear obviously hadn't worked. The man had known Buffy was strong - not that strong, however. Not that he'd intended for the bear to kill her. He'd expected to be closer when it happened, close enough to, if not prevent the attack, at least help her defend herself.

He'd planted the gum several days before the bear finally found it - usually bears were a lot quicker than that. It had occurred to the man that whatever protected Finn that day had also protected Buffy. That something had interfered with all of his magic. He had to admit, the Maymaygwayshi had come to mind; they tended to make a mess of things.

For that very reason, his other attempt to remove Buffy from the scene had been completely without potions or spells. Just a gun. A good, ole' long-range, high-powered rifle - the kind that gun control people loved to hate. He wouldn't have killed her - he'd planned on hitting her shoulder, the one that had still been healing from the bear's attack the day before. It would have come off fine - damn poachers, never could keep themselves from these pristine woods - except that he hadn't accounted for his own desire, for the stirrings of jealousy even though he knew Finn's days were numbered.

The man had raised his rifle; he'd had Buffy in his sights, her blonde hair whipping around her face in the wind, her head perfectly framed in the crosshairs. Then came the moment of hesitation, getting caught up in her smile, imagining - even if only for a minute - that it was for him.

No. Definitely hadn't counted on that; hadn't counted on there being something about the woman... It wasn't typical of him, not at all; it had been a long time since he'd felt such longing.

He'd lowered the gun, following the curve of her neck, the perfect slope of her shoulder - just the one shot was all he'd need. His finger already tugging gently on the trigger, he'd stopped suddenly as she pulled her shirt over her head. He watched Finn gently remove the bandage wrapping her chest. Finn checked the wound and reached into the first aid kit.

The man's mouth had gone dry when Buffy grabbed Finn's hand and placed it on her waist, pulling his head down to her breast, leaning back and smiling as he looked up. Finn had been hesitant, obviously concerned about hurting her - it had only been a day since the bear had attacked, only hours since she had woken up - but she guided him, firmly holding Finn's body against her, playing with and teasing him until he relaxed.

Until that moment, the man had never understood the allure of watching someone else do that; certainly not his idea of a good time. But he couldn't pull his eyes away, and he watched as they made love, his own heart racing; breathless as she came.

It made him sick to think about it; it disgusted him that even now he thought seeing her face at that moment was possibly one of the most erotic experiences of his life.

He'd dropped the rifle, using the excuse that there wasn't any way to get an accurate shot - and killing either one of them at this stage of the game would certainly not get him anywhere. But the reality was that he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. Not such a beautiful creature. Not directly at least.

Yes, well... It was probably a good thing he hadn't gone through with it because it would have definitely aborted the mission, something the man hadn't realized until the moment the ring was deposited into Miller's hand; when he'd seen the look on the soldier's face, overheard him say how he should have insisted that they call everything off and go home, how he couldn't believe he'd let them talk him out of it after the bear.

Thank God for that ring. The man had had no idea why it had appeared next to the prize, not until hours after the storm had happened, hours in which they'd found everyone but Finn, and Miller refused to leave. Chaotic, frantic hours in which the man had been able to move in and among them all without them caring.

That the new body had appeared when it did, and that it had been so perfectly placed among the fire fighters, on the edge of the sacred ground, no less - had to have been the work of the Queen. She would know that the body would be immediately turned over to the Tribe - one less thing for the fire fighters to deal with - and that the Tribe would never let it go.

Yes, the Queen must have had a hand in that. He couldn't help but think that someone had - the same someone who'd had the forethought to throw Finn's ring back into the same circle that contained the man's prize in the first place. Before he was even cognizant of what he was doing, he'd jumped into his canoe knowing that he had to get the ring on the body before it was discovered. It was only because he was known to the Elders that he was able to get the ring where it needed to be.

It had been close, ever so close - the soldiers on his heels almost every step of the way. Here it was almost two days later and his heart was still racing.

The only bad thing about all this was that Buffy was gone. They'd whisked her away as soon as the body had been identified as one Lt. Colonel Riley Finn.

He hoped she was doing o.k. He'd had no idea what would happen to her - if she'd be taken along with Finn, if she'd be killed outright...

Thankfully, she'd survived the day. Now, well, maybe it was worth a trip to Boston - he could easily manufacture an excuse to be there. At the very least, it would be interesting to see the effects of the spell firsthand.

And if she needed someone to take care of her? If she needed someone to comfort her now that Finn was gone? Well, that was just a big, fat bonus.

Buffy hammered away at the punching bag, not missing a beat as she glanced up to make sure it was still attached to her bedroom ceiling. It was a good thing she'd had someone reinforce the beams before she'd moved in - she hadn't exactly expected to need Rocky therapy so soon after moving into the house. And she certainly hadn't expected to need it quite so intensely for quite so long; for, say, almost an entire day running. Almost all of Day Three, in fact.

Buffy glanced at her hands. The tape on her knuckles was soaked through with blood. "So I am." End of conversation.

Three days. It had only been three days that Riley had been gone, and she wasn't sure how she'd make it to Day Four.

Well, she supposed she'd do it the same way she'd gotten this far - hitting the bag as hard and as fast as she could, while at the same time reciting over and over again in her head: Riley is dead. Riley is dead. Riley is dead. Riley is not dead.

She figured that if she could keep telling herself that - if she could keep saying the words enough times, really concentrating on the whole concept, then maybe she might actually comprehend it. Then these agonizing sensations would finally stop and she wouldn't keep feeling his fingers grazing his skin, or his voice whispering in her ear.

The mantra, if done in combination with continual movement, seemed to be the only way to avoid complete meltdown. Of course, there was still that nagging voice lurking in her subconscious - the one that kept saying that she hadn't done enough, that she had failed Riley, in nearly every possible way.

Well, it was true, wasn't it? It was her fault that his children would never see their father again, that his parents would never see their son; her fault he was dead.

Buffy stopped punching for a minute and steadied the bag. Looking past it, she saw Willow watching her from the chair next to the bed. As soon as their eyes connected, Willow looked down at her book.

Had she been watching this whole time? Had she been reading Buffy's thoughts? Though it was absolutely possible - completely within Willow's capabilities - Buffy didn't think so, not right now. Willow didn't abuse her powers, she wouldn't invade Buffy's privacy like that.

Plus, if she had, Buffy had no doubt that there would have been at least a slight reaction when the thought about whether Riley's death would be considered unnatural or not crossed Buffy's mind. Because, even given her - let's just say 'difficult' - experience, there was a part of Buffy that wanted to throw herself to the ground in front of Willow and beg her to do that spell, the one she'd done to bring Buffy back all those years ago.

Buffy had even found herself thinking that it wouldn't be that hard to leave Heaven after only a few days, it had only been because she'd been there for months...

Buffy closed her eyes and concentrated as she got the punches going again: Riley is dead. Riley is dead. Riley is dead.

And, speaking of wrong - this thing with Angel was, well, ridiculous. Not just the actual thing, which was just plain inappropriate - it went further than that. It was as though an echo of their former selves had reached them after harmlessly bouncing about for years; bouncing about through the eight years of living together and finally making its way back at the worst possible moment, there at Riley's house.

Letting the punching bag come to a rest, Buffy looked down at her hands. "Doesn't that sound weird?"

Buffy nodded. It hadn't mattered that she'd made Angel stay downstairs after returning from Riley's house - his presence had invaded her dreams as if he were physically beside her. It had been misery of the worst kind, intensified by knowing that he was on the floor below, that all she needed to do was open her bedroom door and he'd be there, his body ready and willing to quell her ache.

Unable to sleep, she'd come down to the kitchen with the intention of eating her entire inventory of ice cream. She walked in to find Angel sitting at the table. He hadn't turned to her, hadn't even indicated that he knew she was standing there, except to say, 'I have no idea what this is; I just know it has nothing to do with us.' He had picked his bag up off the floor and stood up; walked out the door without even a glance back.

Ordinarily, that would have just seemed overly dramatic, but she had been grateful. It had taken everything she had not to follow him. As it was, she'd been drawn to the window, her hand going to the glass as the taillights of the taxi faded away.

If their eyes had actually connected - if he had actually hugged her good-bye...

Although Willow was obviously trying to be supportive, Buffy shook her head. That sounded too simple and not at all right. She had no idea why, though, nor did she think she'd be figuring it out anytime soon; not when even just these few minutes of rest brought about a new flood of tears.

What did it really matter anyway? Buffy thought as she briskly wiped her eyes and started hitting again. It wasn't going to bring Riley back.

She punched harder, her eyes stinging with tears, as she tried to force the niggling voice out of her head. It was just the guilt talking, guilt and denial taking over as the grief faded from all-consuming to merely overwhelming.

Opening her eyes to see Willow standing over her, she suddenly realized she was on her knees, her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the voices battling in her head. "Willow..."

Willow dropped to the ground, her arms encircling Buffy's shaking body, all the while murmuring, "I know, Sweetie, I know."

Of course Willow would know. It was the only reason Buffy hadn't minded her constant company - she seemed to instinctively be there exactly when Buffy couldn't bear to be alone, and disappear when it was impossible to be in another person's presence. Had this been what she had gone through? Had it been this physical? Had she been able to feel Tara's hands, her lips...

Her touch was soothing, and Buffy could feel the tears coming under control as the voices faded. Still, she pulled away as quickly as she could, unaccustomed to having her raw emotions on display, even with her best friend of twenty years.

Being the most wonderful best friend ever, Willow didn't seem to mind in the least. She just sat back on her heels. "That summer in England? Every once in a while, a cup of tea would somehow appear at my side, just when I really needed it. It was the most amazing thing."

Buffy managed a smile. "Guess that's one of the benefits of being around all those witches."

Standing up, Willow said, "I'll do it the old-fashioned way." She ignored the bedroom's kitchenette and headed downstairs, allowing Buffy the minutes she needed to compose herself.

Before emotion could overtake her again, Buffy began pummeling the bag with renewed energy. Thank goodness Willow was a college professor with the rest of the summer off; Buffy had a feeling Willow's presence might be needed for some time to come.

That point was reinforced by the surge of strength Buffy felt when Willow reappeared, placing the cup of tea on Buffy's desk before returning to her chair next to the bed.

Neither of them spoke another word until half an hour later, when Willow looked up and asked, "Was that the doorbell?"

God, Buffy hoped not. She had no interest in entertaining visitors at the moment. She didn't break her stride. "I didn't.hear.anything."

Buffy stopped punching and yelled out to Willow's retreating back. "I don't want to see anyone." With the possible exception of Dawn. The only other people she knew in Boston were Riley's friends and family, and she couldn't imagine any of them wanting to talk to her, much less actually be in her presence.

How could they? God, she thought as she could feel the remaining pieces of unbroken skin on her knuckles start to crack. How could they ever?

She heard several pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs - it must be Dawn and Eddie, she thought, because Willow would have turned away anyone else.

"I told you," she said, speaking to all of them and punching the bag again as she heard them come in behind her. "I don't.want. to talk-"

Not normally one to do what she was told, Buffy stopped, surprised by Willow's tone. She turned to see Annie and Kate staring at her, Liam and Jack filing into the room behind them. It took Buffy quite some effort to keep her mouth from dropping open.

Well, this was ... interesting. Buffy raised her eyebrows at Willow and steadied the bag.

Annie said, "My dad has one of those in the basement. When he's really missing Mom he goes downstairs and comes back up looking like that." She pointed to the tape on Buffy's hands. Looking down, she mumbled, "It doesn't happen as much as it used to."

Buffy couldn't help but notice the very unhappy look on Kate's face. Because she thought Annie was saying Riley didn't miss Sam enough? Because Kate had been dragged here to Buffy's house? Or just the whole losing her father thing? That would probably do it.

Buffy frowned, pushing the voice out of her head. This was definitely not the time for the guilt to come back in surround sound - it was hard enough to be standing here with Riley's children. With Riley's orphaned children.

Feeling a desperate need to obliterate something, Buffy clenched her fists, opening her eyes as Jack stated, "Kate said if you really loved my dad you would have called Grandma back already. Grandma and Annie said you needed time to be alone." There was a hint of challenge in his voice, and he seemed to be searching Buffy's face for an answer of some kind.

Buffy looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Mary had left a message yesterday morning: she'd meant every word she said and Buffy was welcome in their home at any time. Buffy hadn't yet been able to return the call. Every time she even thought about picking up the phone she started sobbing. And, gee - surprise - she could feel the tears threatening again now.

"Would you rather be alone now?" Liam asked, with an uncomfortable glance at his sisters.

"No, that's o.k." Buffy peeled the tape off her hands - anything to give her something to do as she fought to keep the tears at a manageable flow. Losing it was hard enough in front of Willow; it would simply be unbearable right now. New subject. "Do your grandparents know you're here?"

Annie shook her head, her own eyes beginning to fill. "They're at the funeral home. We said we didn't want to go."

Buffy couldn't really blame them. Funeral homes weren't that much fun unless they were filled with vampires.

No. When your dad had just died, they weren't any fun, period. "How did you get here?"

"Taxi," Jack answered. "I wanted to take the T, but Kate said it would take too long."

His tone was upbeat - too much so, Buffy thought, considering the circumstances.

Buffy just barely stopped herself from stomping her foot and hissing. Though she did think, Get out of my head. Very loudly.

"Your address was on Daddy's desk." Annie smiled sadly. Unlike her brother, she seemed to have a sense of the bigger picture. "The phone number next to yours was the florist's. I think he probably would have sent you daisies. He really liked the Gerber ones."

Oh, God, Buffy thought, as she suddenly couldn't breathe. Punishment of the cruel and unusual kind. She took a step back, feeling as though she'd been sucker punched right in the gut.

"Is anyone hungry?" Willow asked quickly, stepping further into the room. "I'm sure we can scrounge up something. Here..." She moved the chair and ottoman so that they faced where Buffy stood by the desk. "Sit down."

Willow bent down to grab the box that fell off the bedside table as she moved the chair. "Please." She gestured to the chair, box still in hand.

Buffy could feel the blood rush to her face as she realized what Willow had just picked up. There was nothing to say though. Absolutely nothing to say that could make this less awkward. Even that tiny little voice could only chime in with, Oh, Honey - you have got to put those things away when you're done.

"Told you they were talking about having a baby," Kate said, mimicking Annie's tone from earlier.

Liam's voice contained the utter disdain that could only be expressed between brothers and sisters. "You don't use condoms if you want to have a baby. Didn't your boyfriend mention that?"

At the same time, Annie was trying to cover Jack's ears as Jack batted her hands away. With complete disgust, he said to Buffy, "You and my dad.?"

"Why do you think Dad was always driving her home?" Kate asked, older sister superiority back in place.

Willow looked at Buffy helplessly, stashing the box between the bed and the table as she sat down heavily; the damage had already been done.

Well, Buffy thought, willing the blush to recede, on the upside, it had been almost three whole minutes since she'd last cried and nary a punch had been thrown. "Was there something.?"

Jack seemed to have overcome his revulsion as he looked around the room. "Is Angel still here?"

"He can't be here," Liam answered, nodding up at the skylights. "The sunlight would kill him."

Buffy's mouth dropped open, the words 'he left yesterday' completely forgotten. As was her question about why they were here. She may even have squeaked.

"He could just be downstairs somewhere," Kate said in the most matter-of-fact voice possible. "The basement probably doesn't have any windows."

"It's o.k.," Annie said. "We know he's a vampire. There are mirrors all over our house - the no reflection thing was a dead giveaway. No pun intended." She actually giggled.

Annie, too? It was occurring to Buffy that not one of them was acting as a child who'd just lost his or her father.

Don't even say it! she warned the voice. She simply could not deal with the 'Riley is not dead' thing when being confronted with the 'Angel is dead' one. And anyway - hadn't Riley said his kids had no clue about what his job really was? "But. Your dad."

Liam perched himself on the edge of the bed. "He thinks we don't know. It's an old house, though - we can hear pretty much everything he and Uncle Graham talk about."

Kate, on the other hand, had positioned herself as far away from the bed as possible, glaring at Buffy as she sat instead on the counter of the kitchenette.

Buffy was immediately ashamed of her nastiness, even though she hadn't said anything aloud. The kid is fourteen. If you were her, you'd hate you, too.

Luckily, Kate didn't seem to notice Buffy's internal monologue. She looked proudly at her baby brother. "Yeah, and sometimes Jack hacks into Dad's computer."

It was Buffy's turn to look helplessly at Willow, who, by the way, wasn't at all disturbed by this in the least. She just smiled and shrugged. "We were fifteen."

Yes, Buffy thought, wanting to shout, But these aren't your children! You have the luxury of being the indulgent auntie. You're not the one who has to -

She sank down into her desk chair. Neither, Buffy, are you. In case you hadn't noticed, they're not exactly yours.

Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair. How did Riley do this every day? It was exhausting. But - hey - going on minute five without the crying. Imagine the happy. "Was there a reason that you came? Not that I mind," she added hurriedly. "You're welcome here any time. Any time at all."

The kids were suddenly uncharacteristically quiet as they looked at each other and - kind of sheepishly - at her.

Buffy looked right back. This was their show - she was just along for the ride. Plus her mind was already drained to the point of pure mush. Four kids. And they hadn't even been here for that long.

What was this - the full immersion course in stepmothering? How to have that awkward sex talk! How to answer the questions you really don't want them to ask! And if you sign up now, we'll throw in the sullen fourteen-year-old who's an exact replica of your lover's dead wife!

Well, damn it, these may not be the best of circumstances, but they were probably going to find out some time. Buffy half expected a lightning bolt - courtesy of Riley or Sam - to crash through the ceiling as she answered, "Yes."

There was a moment of the loudest silence ever - even the voices in Buffy's head were quiet, anxiously awaiting Jack's response. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when he broke out into a smile. "Cool!" Turning to the others, he said, "I told you she wouldn't lie. I think we should trust her."

"I... Huh?" That was so not the response she'd expected. "Trust me with what?" She almost didn't want to ask.

"Tell me what?" Buffy asked, pushing the voice aside and dreading what they were about to say - what she knew they were about to say. The end of the world was preferable to even contemplating the thought of looking into these four sets of eyes and having to tell them she'd failed them again.

On the other hand, she could already feel them energizing her, launching her out of this prison of grief and guilt, giving her the permission she needed to make all the wrongs right again.

Leaning forward - propelled forward - as she could feel herself come alive again, Buffy said, "Kate, it's o.k. Whatever it is. You can tell me."

Buffy fought every urge to push. She reached for the phone. "If you'd rather tell Graham, I underst-"

"No!" Kate said, jumping off the counter and reaching out her hand. She pleaded, "Don't tell Uncle Graham. Don't tell him any of this - please?"

Annie stepped forward so that she was standing next to Kate. "He can't know. Because then he'd figure out Josh and Mitch know and that would totally freak him out. Especially right now because then he'll feel guilty, too, and he's already feeling bad for us." She just barely kept the urgency in her voice contained.

"But." Not tell Graham? Shouldn't at least one person of parental status be aware that this very big cat had just leapt out of its bag? "You need to tell someone. That you know."

"Well. Because." She glared in the direction of the bed as she saw Willow roll her eyes at Buffy's weak answer.

"Well, yes, I guess so." No wonder Slayers tended to avoid having children - it was hard to maintain the whole superhero deal when these walking bundles of attitude could cut you down without lifting a finger. "O.k. I won't tell Graham. Unless it's absolutely necessary."

For whatever reason, the kids seemed to think that was acceptable. They looked at Kate; Kate looked at Buffy and said, "My dad's still alive."

Buffy sat back in her chair, aware that all eyes were on her. On the one hand, she wanted more than anything to believe that the voice had nothing to do with guilt, nothing to do with wishful thinking; that it actually came from a place she could trust instead of a place like her heart, which had never been even the least bit dependable. On the other hand, there was actual evidence this time around, and if Buffy was wrong - if it was just denial coming to call - then this could get even more awful than it already was.

Kate sneered at Annie, looking as though she were about to turn on her heel and bolt out the door. "I knew she wouldn't believe us."

Annie ignored her sister and took a step closer to Buffy. Her words came out in a rush. "Kate has dreams. She sees things. I know how weird it sounds, but you need to hear us out."

If only you knew how weird it doesn't sound, which, in itself, was part of the problem - the weirder things sounded, the more inclined Buffy was to believe them. A prophetic dream was almost too cliché. Been there, done that about a million times already.

Willow sighed and stood up. "I'm ordering some pizza. Does pepperoni offend anyone?"

Buffy watched as Willow left the room - she'd obviously heard enough to know that this might take some time. The kids - sensing some kind of acceptance - surged forward. Buffy very deliberately took a pen and tapped it slowly against the desk, stopping when she realized that she was denting the surface.

Kate rolled her eyes as her siblings glared at her. Sleeping with the enemy, she was clearly thinking. Or, hopefully, something without any sexual connotations.

"Uncle Graham would just say I'm having these dreams because I want to think Dad's o.k." Kate adamantly added, "I know the difference."

Trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice, Buffy asked, "What do you see? Do you see your dad?"

Kate shook her head. "It's my mom and she's really pissed. She said they took his ring away, and he's not done with it. He needs it back."

That was what this was about? Buffy thought as the hope drained out of her. What was it with Kate and this ring? Angrily, Buffy said, "Why?"

Graham must have mentioned Buffy had the ring and whether consciously or not, this was how Kate was lashing out. If she wanted the damn thing, she could have just asked for it. Riley and Sam's wedding ring wasn't exactly the keepsake Buffy wanted to remember him by.

Taking the ring out of her desk drawer, Buffy placed - or maybe more like slammed - it in front of Kate. "Why, Kate? Why does he need it back?"

Buffy was instantly sorry when it was clear Kate's shock was not an act. The girl's mouth dropped open, and she took a step back. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached for the ring.

"I don't know why. I just know it's important," Kate said, staring at it. She handed it back, insisting, "You need to keep it. You need to get it to him."

Buffy's heart went completely and totally out to Kate. So it wasn't about the ring. That in itself would have been enough to convince her. Then Liam added, "No one who knows him ever really identified his body - Uncle Graham only had a few seconds to look. They just thought it was him because of the ring."

"And the body they found was all messed up because of the fires," Annie said. "They couldn't have known it was him without doing tests, which no one can do because they can't get the body back."

They were all looking at Buffy expectantly, as though waiting impatiently for her to catch up with their reasoning. It wasn't the reasoning she was have a problem with at the moment, it was how they'd gotten to the reasoning part in the first place. "How.?"

Four pairs of eyes immediately looked down at the floor. Jack had the added benefit of turning bright red, having clearly inherited his father's tendency to blush. "Jack."

"Please don't tell," Jack blurted out. "He doesn't even let me watch PG-13 movies. I'd get in so much trouble if he found out I could read his email."

The boy clearly believed wholeheartedly that his father was alive - he hadn't done anything that indicated he was at all upset; the merest suggestion of his father finding this out, however, had him practically trembling.

Buffy was more stunned than anything else, though Jack clearly thought she didn't believe him as she asked, "You can.?"

He walked over to the computer, bringing his hands to the keyboard before stopping suddenly and saying, "I'm sorry. May I?"

Buffy had to grin as she nodded. No question about it, this was Riley's son. Already a gentleman. She rolled her chair back a few inches so he had plenty of room.

In silence, she watched as Jack blew by several firewalls, smiling proudly as he got into Riley's email. Well, she supposed she shouldn't be quite so surprised given the kinds of things Willow used to do. Of course, Willow had been in high school at the time. Jack typed as he talked. "They haven't shut down his account yet. He's still on all the distribution lists. I read Uncle Graham's report."

"But you. You're nine." Buffy looked at him suspiciously. "Were you really playing computer games all those times?"

Jack shrugged. "Computer games are o.k." He shrugged and grinned, his eyes lighting up. "This is a lot more fun."

She smiled back. For a minute there, she'd actually forgotten how much crying she'd done over the past few days. She was also realizing how much she liked Riley's kids. Even if Riley were...

No, Buffy. There isn't time for that kind of thinking. Read what Graham wrote, figure out what is going on, and get Riley back.

"Can you print me out that report?" She couldn't believe she was enlisting a nine-year-old. Nothing like starting them early.

And, um, thank God she hadn't sent Riley any X-rated emails. She'd thought there was a possibility his account was monitored given the whole government ops thing; it had never, however, occurred to her that Jack might be the one watching.

"You can do that?" She put her hand up as he started to type. "No, wait." For one thing that would be really weird in a voyeuristic kind of way. The other thing was that there was no reason - Graham probably would have sent it to her without a second thought; he may even have already done so. He'd left her three messages between yesterday and today; there was a strong possibility that he'd emailed her, too. Another person she couldn't bear to speak to yet. "I'll let you know."

She looked up as Willow came back into the room. There was a moment of thinking that she should be more cautious, that there was no way this could go well. That was followed, though, by an overwhelming sense of relief, as if she'd known all along that this would be her course of action and she could finally get to it.

She turned back to the kids. "O.k., I'll talk to Graham." As they started to protest, she added, "No. I won't tell him you guys brought this to me. I'll see if I can get him to go back up there, if we can at least see the body."

There was the whole disclaimers thing to do, though. "But you need to understand something - just because no one ever properly identified the body doesn't mean it isn't him," she said, saying the words for her own sake as much as for theirs. He could be just as dead somewhere else. She turned to Kate. "And your mom might be sending you messages because she's mad that I'm the one who has the ring."

Twerp, Buffy thought, though her own smile was forming. "Yes, that could be it."

She stood up, feeling a need for one more note of caution before she left the room. "I want him to be alive, too." God, so much so that it was too painful to even speak his name aloud. "And I will do everything I can to get him back - I promise you that. It just..." She had to stop for a second to get the tremble out of her voice. "It may not be enough and you need to be ready for that. Understood?"

"Jack - can you show Willow how you just did all that? She's a bit of a whiz herself." Buffy headed to the door. "I'm going to take a shower - the pizza should be here by the time I'm done."