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The Princess gave him the lightest of kisses, brushing his lips ever so lightly - teasingly so.

With every second she grew stronger - or maybe it was that he was growing weaker; not that he'd exactly been a towering pillar of strength this whole time. Now, though, she was everywhere - her hands running up underneath his shirt, fingers cool on his skin. Her body held him in place; her lips grazed his forehead, his eyes as they fluttered shut...

No. This wasn't Sam. The Princess. He heard the Princess say. He heard the Princess - whose hands were sending chills down his spine - say.

God, how it sounded like Sam - the way she used to get so completely pissed off at, well, at whatever. Sometimes at him, sometimes at Graham. At something the General said or at something her mom did. And when she was pissed off...

Would that be so bad, not going back? Not having to feel this ache again? Not having her voice tempt and tease him again?

Not dreaming another one of these Goddamned dreams that brought him to his knees so fucking hard he could feel every vessel burst as the tremors tore through his body and ruptured his heart.

She would wait until after the kids were in bed, as sound asleep as kids could possibly be, and would start to pace back and forth in front of the bed, muttering the whole time. Into the bathroom and out again, waving the toothbrush as she talked, making some point that he had no intention of disagreeing with.

"You don't get to have Buffy again. That was kind of unexpected, wasn't it? Funny how life turns out."

Back into the bathroom to deposit the toothbrush, her voice becoming more muffled as she exited through the closet - the more clothes he could see flying through the crack in the door, the angrier he knew she was. Emerging from the closet with a t-shirt or a nightgown or sometimes - if she were particularly unhappy - in black lace. He knew he was in trouble then.

She'd come over to the bed - a playful smile on her face - and climb in, climb right up on top of him and push him on his back, chattering away even as she shed her clothes.

"You know what sucks, though? What just completely sucks? You don't get to be a fly on the wall; you don't get to choose what you see."

And he would reach his hand up to pull her down slowly, smiling as the hair fell across her shoulder, closing his eyes as she grew still and quiet. So quiet that he couldn't breathe, afraid he'd miss the whisper as it drifted away.

She would never cry, though. No matter how much she hurt, she would never cry. Her voice would never betray even a hint of a tear.

He almost wished she would because then he could have kissed it all away. He could have reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks and dried them with his lips. He would have taken her in his arms and run his hands through her hair...

No, that wasn't what Sam wanted - if he had learned anything from Buffy, it was to give the woman what she wanted. If crying out was preferable to crying it out? No worries. He could do that, too.

The quiet, of course, never lasted for too long. She was never still for more than a moment, never really at rest.

She would start with his wrist, turning his hand over and laying his palm against her cheek, kissing her way up his arms, first one, then the other. If she were only mildly irritated, she'd take her time working on the slow burn - reaching his shoulders and then heading down his chest, with a detour to his hip; knowing that by the time she hit below the belt he'd be putty in her hands.

Sometimes, though - when the word 'irate' didn't quite cover it - she'd just head straight for the scars. She'd nuzzle or lick or bite for as long as he could stand it - and then she'd let the animal go. She'd let it go and she'd tame it.

She'd unleash her rage and harness the beast. Use it for good. Or at least that's what she would say when she would roll off of him or out from under him, smiling as she gasped for breath. Smiling because of what she'd done to him - reducing him to a quivering mass of nerves, whose only reason for existence was to feel her touch.

You never needed the scars for that, Sam. You did that to me every day. Every damn day.

Nope. That's where she was wrong. He knew it wasn't her - knew this was all just the next phase of whatever this spell was. The problem was, he just didn't care. Not anymore.

It was already too late. He was too far gone. The mutiny of his body had been complete. If the Princess hadn't pushed his shirt off his shoulders and effectively pinned his arms back, well, her tank top would have been history.

"Imagine what it will be like to spend all of eternity with me if you actually let this go all the way. You think the true love thing is intense? Trust me. You have no concept of what true anger can be."

He supposed he could try a little harder - try and get out from under her - except that squirming was definitely not the way to go at the moment. Not with her hips pretty much attached to his. So not the way to go.

Sam's voice was fading away. No wonder - it was probably getting hard to compete with the thundering of his heart in his head.

Good. Good riddance. Because he couldn't take it. Whatever this game was he wanted it to be over. If that meant conceding to the Princess, so be it. There were worse ways to lose. Having some crazy warrior princess fumble with the button on his pants? He wasn't exactly in the mood to argue.

As long as she shut up. He wanted her to stop playing with Sam's voice. Look like Sam all you want - hell, it just made the medicine that much easier to go down. Don't sound like her, though. Not jokey Sam, not angry Sam, and most definitely not desperate Sam.

Why was she bothering? His arms were all twisted up in his shirt, his legs were effectively immobile thanks to the way she'd positioned herself - it wasn't like he could stop her if she tried. You know what? He wasn't even going to try. At this point he was ready to just enjoy the ride.

The words were still coming, though, tumbling out in a rush. They just wouldn't stop.

"Do this and it means... It means you never get to put another band-aid on Katie's knee or braid Annie's hair. And - Liam... Those gorgeous eyes are going to break so many hearts... You need to be there for him; teach him how to be..."

"He's going to be you, Ri. Oh - how I wanted to see that. And... Baby Jack... That soft, wispy hair... His tiny, little hands... That tiny, little body that just disappears into your arms."

"Nice," Riley gasped, startling the Princess enough that she looked up from what she was doing. Which, at the moment, was running her tongue along the scar that spanned his waist. Without her quite so connected to his skin, he could actually speak. "That was a good touch. I almost believed you were crying - the way your voice caught at the end?"

And there was the tongue again. So much for speech. Especially when her hands joined in on the action, the tips of her fingers slipping past his waistband and skimming the line of his hipbone.

"Damn it, Finn. Would you stop thinking with your dick for a minute and pay attention?"

Her mouth wasn't really doing anything. Not yet at least. She was just edging kind of close to his now-unbuttoned pants.

And, o.k. - interesting point about the talking versus the 'mouth doing' thing. One he hadn't really considered.

He looked down as the Princess tensed, pulling away quickly and putting her hands to her face.

"Riley Dylan Finn, listen to me. I can slow her down, but I can't control her. This has to be you. You have to decide - understand?"

The Princess dropped her hands to his waist, looking up at him and saying, "Don't you want her?"

We're back to that again? Hadn't they already covered that? Yes, he wanted Sam. He was here, wasn't he? As long as she was asking - he wanted Buffy, too. Hell, just throw the Princess into the mix and we've got ourselves the trifecta.

She slid her body up his, making sure to hit all the key points. "I can give you..."

This was getting to be somewhat confusing. Their voices - Sam's voice - invaded his head. Coming at him in twos and threes, echoing all around him.

"...what you want." The Princess' breath warmed his skin and everything seemed to become more urgent. Her hands were flat on his chest...on his shoulder... "I can give you..."

"-die? What it's like to know that it's over? So much was broken. I couldn't fix it; I couldn't-"

As the Princess spoke, she pressed herself against him, showing him how easy it would be to just let this end. "...Sam. All you need to do is let go. No more guilt..." She was pushing the shirt down the length of his arms. Not fast enough, though; not fast enough. He wanted - no, he needed - to put out this fire.

He could feel his shirt being pulled all the way off, and he did nothing to stop it. Did nothing at all to stop the Princess from pulling his arms back and wrapping them around her, as she murmured, "...No more pain." There was an edge of panic in her voice; one she tried to hide by putting her hand to the back of his neck and pulling his face right up to hers.

"-to fight this. They need a father. I'm even willing to throw in a stepmother. Just don't..."

"Just make this be over." The Princess leaned forward, and his hands went to her hair as she kissed him - so achingly tender that he almost cried for whatever it was that could hurt her that much.

"...Don't leave them alone, Finn. The only thing that made the dying o.k.? Knowing you would be there for them. You need to be there. It's all up to you. It's your choi-"

The kiss consumed him - a wall of water drowning him, overtaking all of his senses. He couldn't hear Sam anymore, couldn't feel her body surrounding him. Couldn't open his eyes to see Sam's face, couldn't taste the lip gloss she wore, and couldn't smell the scent of her hair. Hell, he couldn't even breathe.

Everything started to slip away as the water receded - vision came back, but only a faint outline of her face; above him and yet so far below.

He could feel every heartbeat, could feel the blood flow out of his veins, his body floating away without his heavy heart to weigh it down.

Would you die for her. Not of a broken heart, but of a healed one. This is what Joe meant. Would you give up your body - your life on this earth - to be joined with her, to be part of her forever.

Would you give up your children for your wife. Could you possibly choose her over them.

Yes, he wanted her - he always would. Until the end of time itself. And seeing her like that - so close, so alive... Oh, God, how that hurt. He thought death might actually be preferable to living like this.

Joe had asked the wrong thing: true love - if it could happen more than once, much less twice.

Sam and Buffy? Hell, yes. Any questions Riley had had watching Buffy across the campfire, mulling over what Joe had asked... That night put them all to rest. Riley was a believer. Hands down.

Pure love, though. That was an entirely different thing. The life you create - not once, not even twice. Four times.

When who they are is what you become. When you discover 'heartbreak' is a literal term. When you cry their tears and breathe their breaths.

When your little girl clutches your hand and you realize that watching that balloon disappear into the sky was the saddest thing you'd ever seen. When hearing your baby boy laugh for the first time was the happiest.

You know, Sam? All those years ago? With the grief so fresh, and every day a struggle to breathe enough to stay alive? He might have taken the wrong road then. He might have given it all up just to hold her again. Might have actually forsaken his kids, forsaken their future. Not now, though. Not now.

He missed her so much. He would have given almost anything to have her with him again. But it was o.k. - she didn't need to keep being strong. He finally understood what she was saying. He couldn't give them up. He didn't want to.

There was a faint touch against his cheek, as though she were caressing him. This time he didn't hear the words - he felt them: I know, Finn. I know.

And suddenly he found himself back in the bed, lying on his back with his hands covering his face. There was still a body draped over his - the Princess was clinging to him as though she were afraid she'd die if she let go. He'd actually saved enough damsels in distress to know what that felt like. Usually, however, he wasn't half naked when he did it; tears falling on to the bare skin of his chest was a unique sensation. Not one he was really interested in repeating as it turned out.

Riley closed his eyes. Only for a second, though; there wasn't any time to think about how that hadn't been more of the Princess' head games - it had actually been Sam speaking to him. There wasn't any time to fully comprehend what he'd just let go, nor how much it would hurt when it hit him. At the moment there was just enough time to take one last gulp of air as he realized what was about to happen - that the Princess formerly known as not-Sam was about to cut off the airway formerly known as unconstricted.

"Why did you come here?" she asked angrily, her eyes wild despite the tears. "What do you want from me?"

She let up on the pressure just enough for him to gasp, "I...? Want from...you?"

O.k. Now that just made him mad. He may not be able to beat her, but he was tired of taking it lying down. Um, as it were.

Whatever power she'd had over him seemed to be gone - the choice he'd made had broken the spell. And damn if he hadn't remembered a trick or two in the last few weeks of sparring with Buffy. The element of surprise didn't hurt much either.

She hadn't expected any resistance - hadn't even pinned his hands down where they rested above his head. He took a handful of her hair and yanked on it. Though it may be a cheap shot, it was a good one - one of Sam's favorites. If you're gonna fight the girls, then learn how to fight like one, she used to say. Get in close to the roots, twist it all up in your fingers and pull. Hard. It'll get her attention.

The Princess was no exception. She was startled enough for him to be able to breathe again; enough for him to jerk his elbow up and connect with something solid. Enough for him to get out from underneath her and be ready to block the next blow when it came. He grabbed her wrist as it came at his head.

Lying on his side, still somewhat tangled up in her body while holding off her somewhat more powerful arm was not exactly a position of strength, however. "I don't want anything from you." She relaxed a little under his grip. Not quite enough, though. He added hurriedly, "I didn't choose to come here."

O.k. Good, princess. Just back down nice and easy. He let go of her arm. "You saw my dreams. You know where I'd rather be."

That seemed to do the trick. She nodded and pulled away completely, making no move to stop him when he stood up and walked a few steps away.

He kept his eyes on her as she sat up. An uneasy truce, but a truce all the same. "Could I have my shirt?"

She tossed it to him and looked away as he put it back on yet another time - if he never in his life had to button up this shirt again it would be too soon. This, at least, was the first time he'd had to button up his pants - except for the time he'd gotten dressed after waking up naked. That one didn't count, though. It was hard to take his eyes off of her, wondering how the spell had worked. There wasn't a chance in hell that he'd just mistakenly thought she was Sam - the two women looked nothing alike.

He'd actually noticed that the second he'd come out of that...dream. It would have been hard to miss - Sam was softer, her body curved in all the places it should. The Princess was more angles and edges - still more girl than woman; more Kate than Sam, which, given the circumstances and the position he'd just found himself in, was incredibly disturbing. Perhaps even more so than anything else about this situation if that was even possible.

Well, as he was now - thankfully - seeing, not so much Kate as Buffy, the first time around. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Or, make that at least three hundred and nineteen or twenty. He wasn't exactly sure how to count the millions of years before that.

Shit. How the hell was he going to tell Buffy about all of this? The chances of that conversation going well were about as good as his being able to walk out of here without a fight. So much for the happy ending.

That, however, had to be put on the list of things to think about later. Don't think about how life-shatteringly unpleasant it had been to be cut down by a twenty-year-old Slayer; there was still a twenty-year-old warrior princess to deal with. One who could kick his ass into another dimension; she didn't need any spell to do that.

She was looking up at him suspiciously through eyes that were big and brown; they sparkled in a way that could only be achieved by the light reflecting off her tears. That or anime. Another trick? He didn't think so.

The clothes she wore had gone out of style several hundred years ago. They were clean though somewhat faded, not having aged as well as she had, a fact highlighted by the way the fabric fell against her golden skin, skin that looked a lot more like a college kid's than it did like a who-knows-how-old mummy.

Riley looked down at the floor, feeling a sudden wrench in his gut. If Sam were still here, she'd have had something to say about that. Something about how if she were Xena the Warrior Princess she wouldn't have any wrinkles, either. Or maybe that would have been Buffy's line. Actually, it didn't matter who would have said it; it still hurt to just think about.

Her hair was so black it put the night sky to shame - the real night sky, the one he'd grown up with deep in the Heartland. When the moon was nowhere to be found and the stars were all hidden away. When you could hold your hand up in front of your face and not see a damn thing. It didn't happen often, but when it did, you took advantage. You drove your pick-up into the fields and spread a sleeping bag out in the truck's bed and just lay there, thinking that it was possible you could be the only person on earth. Sometimes wishing that you were. Or sometimes - if you'd brought the right girl out with you - being grateful that you weren't.

Which brought him right back to those items not to think about. Because 'right girl' meant first Sam, and then Buffy. His prospects weren't looking too good in either respect.

God - just get past it. No more Sam and no more Buffy. Not now. Not when the 'get out of jail free' card is still hidden somewhere deep in the deck.

Looking at the Princess - looking at her looking warily at him - he realized she didn't seem angry anymore. Just tired. And sad.

He felt strangely awkward given the intimacy of what they'd shared. No, idiot - because of it. And he'd never been quite this intimate with someone whose name he didn't know. That, at least, was correctable. "What's your name?"

A minute ago, she'd been close to killing him. A minute before that she'd been, well, close. Now, however, she'd moved past tired and was closing in on scared. Could this possibly make any less sense?

She looked at him for a minute as though he were crazy. Then she reached out slowly and shook his hand.

Well, hey - what else were you supposed to do with a millions-year-old warrior princess that you had almost slept with on the way to joining your dead wife in Forever? Shaking hands was as good as anything else he could think of at the moment. In a strange kind of way, it made him feel at least a little bit better.

Not her apparently. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hunched her shoulders. "So what happens now?"

"Have I done my penance?" She seemed relieved, as though she just wanted to get this over with. And annoyed. Defiant despite the defeat in her words. "Did they send you here to end it?" She held her hands out to him the way a prisoner would, expecting to be chained. The defeat seemed to be winning, though, deflating her as she pleaded softly, "Will you please just end it?"

Riley pulled the chair a couple of feet away from the bed and sat down, not having any clue as to what she was talking about. "I'm not quite-"

"It's because of what I did, right?" She leapt to her feet, making Riley tense. Except that she wasn't attacking, she was pacing, a bundle of unexpendable energy. Kind of like Buffy.

"Dumb?" She'd killed fourteen men and she thought it was 'dumb'? "That's not exactly how I'd put it."

"I just..." She sat down heavily on the bed and leaned forward, her eyes begging for understanding. "I watched him die. I watched it eat him away. There was nothing I could..." Her voice faded away and she looked down.

Alright. That one he knew: Didier Longer. Death by smallpox. A horrible death under any circumstances, but for a Slayer-type who was used to kicking the ass of the Big Bads? He'd seen Buffy spin out of control when her mom got sick. If he'd been a little less screwed up at the time...

Oh - don't even think about going there. Not now. Especially not when extra-strength warrior princess was grabbing his hands with renewed resolve, saying, "Do you understand what it's like? To love someone so much that you can't just let go?"

Well, actually... No. Don't answer. He was happy to play the role of confessor, not of confessee. Riley tried to pull his hands away. It only made her hold on tighter.

"And you know he just needs you to tell him it's o.k. That he can go." She was crying now. "Except that you can't. You can't imagine life without him. You're too weak to pray for him to die; you can only pray for him to live."

She had to know his answer was yes. That he'd spent two days doing nothing but that, making every kind of deal with God that he could think of. Pleading - no, begging - Let her live, please just let her live. No matter how broken, how scarred. It was Sam - she could make it through. She could make it through anything.

He'd known, though, that it wasn't true. Somehow - deep down in his gut - he'd known she wasn't coming back.

If he'd actually seen her suffer? Seen her dying in front of him? Could he honestly say he'd have been strong enough to give her that? Strong enough to let her go? He hoped so. And yet...

No. He was glad he hadn't had to relive those days, glad Kaseniiosta hadn't taken him there.

Riley looked up to see her staring at him, the tears streaming down her face. So maybe she didn't realize he knew exactly what she was talking about - she'd only taken him to the good times. For her sake as much as his.

Except none of that mattered. This was all irrelevant. May as well just be blunt. "You killed fourteen men."

"No?" He stood up and walked away from her. "That wasn't what you were talking about? The thing that was 'dumb'?"

She looked at the bed. "No - they were already dead. I mean..." She looked down at herself and then back up at him. "I mean we. We're already dead."

Oh, how he hoped not. And seeing as how everything in his body seemed to be working o.k., he felt comfortable tabling that discussion. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest. "Then what were you talking about? What did you do that made you come here?"

Turning back to him, she set her shoulders, quietly indignant, in the way Buffy had been with her not-basking avowal. "I wrote poetry."

No. Absolutely do not laugh. This was anything but funny. "You wrote bad poetry?"

She shrugged again, mumbling words he could barely hear. Something about wind dancing and stars singing. Or maybe the other way around. Something 'devouring'? 'Consuming'?

Though she was turning pink, her voice grew stronger. "'When daylight comes...'" The same pink as the light seeping into the room. "'...we will be one.'"

Riley followed her gaze to the darkened doorway. The one that wasn't quite so dark, actually, with the sun doing its rising thing. He looked back at her, remembering the way she'd stopped, stunned, when she saw the light start to turn, murmuring, 'Daylight is coming.'

Well, what do you know? This was starting to make a little sense. The markings on the rock. Joe asking Buffy about 'true love.' That whole becoming 'one' thing that they'd almost just done. Riley sank down to the floor, his back to the wall. "It was your spell." Resting his wrists on his knees, he held his hands together loosely. "Except you didn't cast it. You've been living it."

"Before we-" Riley gestured at the bed with his hand, somewhat comforted to see that she looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "Before. When I asked about my ring. You said something about me coming to you."

She nodded, somewhat apprehensively. The tears seemed to be dissipating, though.

A shy smile appeared on her face. It looked nice on her. "Except for the naked part. Yes."

Damn. He really needed to learn how not to blush. That should be part of Basic Training. "And the naked part was because...?"

"You were covered with dead butterflies. I had to wash them out of your..." She laughed as he shifted self-consciously. "...Clothes. What did you think I was going to say?"

No comment. Back to his original train of thought. "You had nothing to do with bringing anyone here," he stated, realizing that it was true.

A touch of fire flared in her eyes. "Anyone I brought here wouldn't have looked like-" She snapped her mouth shut as her gaze swept Riley's body. "He would have been short and fat; he would have had no hair and beady little eyes." As she turned away, her voice caught. "And I would have loved him. I would never have let him leave."

Six feet tall; two hundred pounds. Hello, Victim Profile. Except - did the spell work the same way for her? If she wasn't appearing as Sam, shouldn't he not be appearing as Didier? "Do I still look like him to you?"

"Yes," she whispered. The flames died down and he could actually feel her pain. "You always did."

He shook his head. "The others..." His voice trailed off as the meaning of what she'd just said fully hit him. With the exception of his build, he bore no resemblance to the other men who had disappeared.

Riley got to his feet slowly. She'd told him that he looked like Didier - so what? His mother insisted that he looked like Jon Stewart, which was obviously not true. It was something people said. He hadn't taken it literally, more concerned about keeping himself from throwing her on the ground and-

Um, more concerned about not throwing her on the ground. He'd just leave it at that.

But he'd been right before - she didn't want this any more than he did. She didn't want to be seeing him or touching him or, probably even talking to him. It was the same reason he never could have loved Sam if she'd looked anything like Buffy; the same reason having it be Buffy back in his life again was easier because she looked nothing like Sam. It just hurt too damn much.

Seeing Sam's eyes, seeing her smile... Knowing that this couldn't possibly be her and yet wanting so desperately to be wrong.

God, how Kaseniiosta must have hated him. If he thought what he'd felt was anger when he'd woken up this last time, what she'd probably felt was ten times worse. Or make that fourteen times - she'd probably felt that way with every one of those men. Experiencing it once had been more than enough for him. "You haven't stopped looking, have you?" Riley looked down. "Every time a man appeared here, a part of you thought it might be him." When he'd appeared, actually looking like Didier...

Did she think he'd been provoking her? She had said he was different. He'd thought that was Sam, saying that he'd changed in the years since she'd died. He'd been wrong, though; it was Kaseniiosta telling him he was different than the other men, than the ones who had come before. Not just because what he looked like, either.

Seeing her reactions with the benefit of a much clearer hindsight, he was guessing that he'd been the only one to make it as far as getting dressed, much less have an actual meal with her, have a conversation. She may even have thought he'd been the one who sent every one of those men that preceded him, teasing her, playing upon her raw emotions, making her hope just one more time. "It's why you read the dreams. You kept hoping to find yourself there."

With him it had gone one step further - she'd actually believed, if only for a moment. The way she'd kissed him after the Okinawa flashback hadn't been the focused here's-what-today's-dreams-will-be-about kind of kiss, but rather one you might find yourself lost in thinking this might just be your long lost love. Even knowing it wasn't Didier - she'd actually said it wasn't right - it was hard not to want it to be, hard not to just let it overtake you. What he'd been struggling with since the moment he got here.

And then this last time - all the things she'd been saying - being bound, being entranced, wanting 'him'/'her' out of her skin.

"The other men." Riley walked back to the chair and turned it so that its back was to his front as he sat down and leaned forward against it. "You said you'd give me what I wanted. You said you'd send me home. If we had..." Damn if he wasn't blushing again. "What would have happened to me?"

She gave him one of Buffy's do-you-really-need-me-to-answer-that looks. "I expect you would have finished, um...enjoying yourself."

Well, good. At least she was having a little bit of a hard time with this, too. "That's not what I meant."

He shifted uncomfortably. Fine. "Would I have just disappeared? Into some..." - what? - "...Blinding flash of light?"

Now she was just grinning evilly, looking like she was trying to decide whether to let him go on for a while, or whether to just be nice. Thankfully, she went with nice. "Yes, actually." Her grin turned into a low, engaging laugh. "The 'souls entwining' thing seems to be the best part."

He had to admit - as deaths go, this probably would have been one of the better ones. Except - "Seems to be?"

Her laughter disappeared and she looked away. "I'm not usually there for that part. That part's just for them."

"For...?" Riley found he couldn't breathe. For them. For the man and his wife. It hadn't just been Sam's voice - it had been her. Sam had been the one Kaseniiosta needed to get out of her skin - literally.

Riley bowed his head and pressed his palms against his eyes. Damn it. God, how he wished he had known that - there were so many things he would have told her. So many things he had left to say. For example, I'm sorry - so Goddamned sorry - that the last words I ever said to you weren't that I loved you. Fuck.

Well, hell. Join the club. "Was Sam here this whole time? Was she...?" He looked at the bed.

"No." Now it was Kaseniiosta's turn to stand up and walk away, going over to the table. "She wanted you so much. I almost couldn't..." She sat down hard and her hand went to the hem of her skirt. "It hurt. I think too much."

She looked up. "Sam wasn't like the others. She was always fighting me. She came and went." Kaseniiosta's eyes were full of apology. "She left. I don't know where... I'm sorry."

And that, Riley, is called a ton of bricks crashing down on your head. 'I already knew she was strong,' Kaseniiosta had said when he'd confronted her about the fight on the bluff. He'd thought she was talking about Buffy; except when he mentioned Buffy's name, Kaseniiosta was surprised - because Sam had been the one fighting her all along.

From early on Sam had known this was wrong. It had been her voice, prodding him. Something else had to be going on, too, otherwise she wouldn't have let it get as far as it did. Maybe she hadn't known the whole story; maybe it took her a while to figure out how to stay outside of Kaseniiosta's body for any sustained period of time. Or maybe she had just gone visiting. Who knew? Whatever she had been doing seemed to have had its results.

He smiled, which seemed to confuse Kaseniiosta. "Sam didn't leave," Riley said softly. "She was still here." He wasn't going to dwell on that, though. Couldn't. Instead he said, "So, if she was gone..."

The Princess didn't look confused anymore. Judging by the dark shade of red she had become, it was clear she understood what he was saying, which was basically - what was your excuse?

"I..." Her hands dropped from her skirt. She looked up at him, her defiance back in full form. "I thought it was my turn. That you had come for me." She added softly, "That it was my turn to go home." She stood up and started pacing again. "You're all..."

All what? he thought, watching her; waiting for her to continue. Who all? Him and Sam? Buffy, too?

"Your women are different. Strong. Not that the others were weak, they just didn't seem to-" She stopped moving. "Riley? Are you listening to me?"

What? Oh. "Yeah. Sorry." He'd just been thinking how he wouldn't really put it that way. 'His' women. Right. Speaking of which. "Kasenii-"

"Could you not call me that? Didier was the on-" She snapped her mouth shut. "Kasey would be better," she mumbled.

Whatever. "Kasey..." He looked past her to the darkened opening in the wall. "What's out there?"

Her eyes slowly took in the darkened entry; then she looked back at him, not at all interested. "Another room. Why?"

"Why?" He stood up and walked towards it. "Because that's how we get out of here. That's why."

She looked stunned. Guilty, too. As though there was this huge thing that she'd completely forgotten to mention. Like, for example, a huge flashing 'Exit' sign.

Moving past her, he stuck his head thru the opening. Yep. Another room. With a lot of those bowls in it - every size and color imaginable. She hadn't been kidding. Interesting. And kind of weird.

There was more flickering on the walls in here, and another entryway. Looks like there'd be only one way to go. Well, that at least meant the plan was pretty simple.

She still looked surprised that he'd even ask the question. Honestly? He was surprised himself. Except in his case it was because he couldn't believe he hadn't actually done it before. Only when he'd first woken up had he even wondered what was beyond this room. Was that all part of the spell? Penning him in? Making it so that the only thing he could possibly see was Sam?

Shaking her head, Kasey drew inward a little. "Nothing. We can't...." She hugged herself tightly. "It won't work."

Riley came back to her. How many times had he heard that before? Sure, sometimes it was true. Not always, though. "You said I was different. That Sam and Buffy were different." He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her from backing away. "We have a choice, Kasey. Sam gave it to us. We can make it be a different ending."

"I don't..." There was a vacant look in her eyes. The kind of look he had seen once before on Buffy's face what seemed like a billion years before. One of complete defection to the uninterested side. It didn't fit Buffy back then, and it didn't fit Kaseniiosta now.

"Kasey..." He said it sharply enough to pull her back to him, her eyes finally getting some of the spark back. "I don't want to be here anymore. You said you'd send me home, right?" He pointed to the entryway. "That's the only road I see."

It didn't seem to be getting through her defenses. Her detachment had been too long in coming.

He supposed he didn't need her to come with him; that he could just leave her here. That didn't seem to have done anyone much good so far, though. And his chances were probably a little better with someone who'd been in this world for a lot longer than he had. A lot better when that someone was a warrior princess with supernatural strength. He wasn't quite ready to give up.

"Do you want me to tell you about my kids? How Kate cried for Sam every night? How Jack still..." Damn. The problem with playing the emotion card - you weren't immune from it yourself. Thinking about Jack's wide, scared eyes the day they'd left for Quetico... The way he'd looked at that helicopter waiting on the tarmac...

Tactics, Ri. Just take a deep breath. There was a reason she hadn't let him dream the bad parts - it was because she didn't want to know. Just another weakness to take advantage of; the way you've survived the last twenty years. This might be the only way to get back. "How Jack still hates it when I fly?"

Riley didn't let up, following her. "You know what he wants to do when I get back? He wants to ride the train - get on at North Station and head all the way up to B.C. He likes to watch the people. He makes up stories about them - the greatest stories. I just sit there and watch his eyes come alive."

Riley put his hand on her shoulder and turned her back to him. "I promised him, Kasey. I promised him I'd be coming back. I-"

"O.k. - stop!" she finally snapped. She briskly wiped her eyes, a hard thing to do while she was glaring at him. She managed, though. "I'd rather hear about Buffy."

"Really?" That was enough of a surprise that Riley found himself smiling. He thought he could manage that. "What do you want to know?"

Riley clamped his mouth shut as the heat rose in his cheeks. He had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, especially because she had turned and headed back to the bed. That wasn't good. "Um..."

It was soon clear, however, that she wasn't going to the bed for the reason he thought; instead, she knelt on the floor and reached under it. When she pulled her hands out, a trunk came with them. A trunk very much like the one Buffy used to keep under her bed.

O.k., he thought with more than a little bit of relief. That was more like it. Riley walked over.

"You have weapons?" Riley asked as she opened it up. Well, damn. Talk about well stocked. "They sent you here with weapons?"

He looked around, his eyes taking in the bleak, black room that had imprisoned her for hundreds of years. Complete desolation; nothing but utter despair. Oh, how he'd been there. Day in and day out, thinking about how Sam had died.

If he had been locked up here for that long? With weapons? Hell, he had had his kids to live for, the daily grind to keep him occupied, and he still couldn't say the thought of ending it all hadn't occurred to him. Even now - when the nightmares would come - it was hard to keep that hopelessness at bay. Or, at least it had been, until about a week ago. Still... "Weren't they afraid that you'd-?"

She pulled the knife from the trunk - one that looked almost exactly like the one he'd thrown Buffy on that bluff - and drew the tip up her forearm, tearing into the veins. On pure instinct, Riley fell to his knees, grabbing her wrist despite knowing that was the kind of cut you couldn't heal.

"Kasey..." He looked up at her, only to find her staring back - no fear of an imminent death, no indication of pain.

He followed her gaze back down. For some reason, he wasn't entirely surprised to see that there was no cut, no blood. He turned her arm in his hands, even though it seemed pretty obvious that there wouldn't be any blood there either. It was just...weird. He'd never seen anything like that before.

"The butterfly." She pulled her sleeve back a bit, fully revealing the black mark that had been peeking out just above the crook of her elbow. A black mark looking like a butterfly spreading its wings, about to take flight. "That's what you were looking at, isn't it?"

"Oh," she went on, realizing what he'd meant. "The no blood thing." She shook her head. "See? I told you I was already dead." She held the knife out to him. "Want to try?"

Her smile broadened. "Because you think you're not already dead." She said it as though she were indulging him.

Sorry. He refused to believe it. Shaking his head, he asserted, "I know I'm not."

Kasey took his hand and placed the knife in it. "If I take you out there, you won't be able to say that for much longer."

So she had been through those doors once upon a time. He closed his hand over the knife. "Who do we have to fight?"

"Guards. Too many to count." She turned back to the trunk and started grabbing weapons, giving some to him, keeping some to herself. It was hard not to think about Buffy as he watched her stow the knives in her clothes, strap them on to her arms, her legs.

Actually the ones on her legs he didn't watch. He was already in far too much trouble.

With a grin, she looked at him. "We don't stand a chance. You realize that, don't you?"

Riley did some stowing and strapping of his own - mostly knives. There was a cool mace-type thing. He'd give that a try. "That's never stopped me before." He stood up.

"Wait..." There was one last thing she wanted from the trunk. She pulled it out and unwrapped the blanket that protected it. A weapon - a three-foot pole with a dagger strapped on one end, two circular blades on the other. She held it out to him. "This was Didier's," she said. "I don't think he'd mind you using it."

Riley took it, testing its strength, pulling at the bindings that held the blades. Yep. That would do. That would definitely do. "Thanks." He looked over to see her staring at him. "What?"

"Do you think she's out there? Coming for you?" Kasey nodded toward the door. "The one you..." She blushed and looked away. "Buffy?"

Gee. And he'd actually forgotten for a minute that she'd witnessed all that. Experienced it.

He looked at the doorway. Was Buffy looking for him? Would she be out there? Or, more to the point, would she ever speak to him again?

No. Go back to that second to last question. "Yes. I think so." Actually, no: he knew so. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew.

Standing up, Kasey said, "Good. I think we might need her. She was good." A sly smile appeared on her face. "Not as good as I once was, but I think she'll do." She started to head for the door and then paused. "Riley Finn." She spoke his name as though she were trying it out on her lips, seeing how it felt. "You intrigue me. I hope you don't die." Her smile came back. "If you're right about not already being dead, that is."

Yeah, well, he hoped he wouldn't die, too. Riley squared his shoulders, his eye on the doorway as he wondered what they'd find out there. Wondered eagerly as it turned out.

Raising her weapon to the ready, she laughed. Of course, she had no reason not to - for her this was all just an exercise. She couldn't get hurt. Still, it was much more light-heartedly than he would have expected, given her hesitancy of only moments ago. "Ready?"

Smiling, he nodded. "Ready." He supposed he shouldn't be surprised - after all, she was essentially a Slayer. Give her a weapon - or seven - and she was happy.

He followed her through the second room, not even getting the chance to approach the second doorway cautiously, because she was already out. And, since he felt some responsibility for talking her into this, he wasn't about to let her face it alone.

The moment he was out the door, though, he had to stop; he was completely unprepared. 'A world of darkness and flame.' He'd seen the darkness; this was... Damn. This was the flame. Living and breathing flame everywhere he looked; a landscape ablaze with color, the sunrise itself.

He reached out tentatively, seeing if he could touch the shimmering ribbons of red and purple and orange and pink, bands of color as far as the eye could see. His hand sliced through it, grabbing hold of nothing more solid than a heavy fog. He followed slowly behind Kasey, wading through the waves of gold.

The scenery was so fantastic that he got caught up in it - stupid rookie mistake. He almost ran into Kasey when she stopped.

She tipped her chin and raised her knife as what seemed like a hundred armed men fell into place in a line advancing towards them. "Riley, I hope you fight as well as you kiss."

Her grin was as surprising as the words behind it; it reminded him of Buffy. Of how much he wanted to see Buffy.

That was about all the time he had to think - he took out the first three men on pure Buffy buzz. The adrenaline took over from there - fueled by the frustration he'd felt the entire week in the woods, just waiting to be picked off and by the anger of spending these last, well, however long it had been, as a caged animal.

And then there was Sam. He couldn't think about what he had just given up - he didn't dare let that enter his brain right now - but there was no way in hell he was going to waste that chance just to die anyway.

"Did I just hear you laugh?" Kasey called over to him, smiling as she sliced her knife through, well, through some guy's neck.

He swung the blade she'd given him and felt an incredible rush as the blur of men just kept coming. Yeah, he probably had just laughed. Because - this felt good. This felt damn good. He was going home.

Before she was even fully conscious, Buffy was tearing the oxygen mask off her head - which ended up being a good thing, because otherwise it would have been incredibly uncomfortable when her jaw dropped open.

They'd landed in the middle of a dust-storm - a magical, Technicolor, fairy-dust storm, with colors swirling, whipped up by a whistling wind; scarlet and rose and marigold and coral - a virtual color palette come to life. As the wind died and the stardust settled, instead of fading, the colors grew more intense, forming hazy plumes spiraling up towards the sky.

"That must have been some hell of a 'moment,'" Brady murmured from over her left shoulder.

As impressive as the colorscape was, however, it was hard not to notice that the plumes were actually almost entirely made up of flames. Flames made up of the most brilliant colors ever, but flames nonetheless.

Buffy looked at Graham, his eyes wary as he scanned the ring of fire, his clothes covered in dead butterfl-

Ick, she thought, glancing down and noticing that her clothes were covered as well. In her hair, too? Oh, that was so gross. She brushed herself off.

Anyway, she knew exactly what Graham was thinking: they needed to know what was on the other side; needed to know if it was worth walking through fire to get it.

She looked up to see that he had already walked forward. Before she had a chance to say, 'supernatural healing powers,' he reached his hand out and stuck it into the flame.

"Not hot," he said, surprised - and obviously relieved - as he leaned further in. "Not even really all that warm." He glanced over his shoulder. "Let's go."

O.k., then. With only a second's hesitation - walking into a bonfire, no matter how not-hot it was, just wasn't a thing you'd normally do - she followed. The others weren't too far behind.

Actually, weren't far behind at all - Sprague almost ran into her when she stopped short as she emerged on the other side and saw the welcoming party - or welcoming regiment, rather - at the not-so-comfortable-distance of fifty feet away. The only reason that they hadn't noticed the team - only partially obscured by the thick fog of color - was that they were marching in the other direction.

There were a lot of them - that much was obvious, even though the front lines weren't visible through the haze. And, if she had to commit, Buffy was confident enough to say they came from the same gene pool as the men she'd fought on the bluff. At the very least, they all seemed to shop at Tomahawks-'R-Us. Her hand instinctively went to her knife - or, actually, Shadow Riley's knife - making sure it was where it needed to be, should it be required.

A hint of a smile appeared on Graham's face as he whispered, "Let's split them up - you take the hundred on the left, we'll take the hundred on the right. Anyone still standing after that can deal with the rest."

At least he had a sense of humor about it. "Oh, Graham," she sighed. "Don't exaggerate. There's only, like, seventy-five on the left side."

In his - as usual - unhelpful way, Brady asked, "Anyone want to take bets on what they're heading towards?"

She could only shake her head no - that wasn't something she could joke about. Bets weren't necessary. She had absolutely no doubt what was on the other side: Riley. Her feet propelled her forward.

"Buffy - wait." As if the words themselves weren't enough, Graham's voice betrayed his concern. His attention was focused on the regiment; he was obviously calculating the odds as he spoke. "Do you actually have a plan here?"

Of course she did. Turning to him, she waved her knife in the direction of the guards. "We stop them. We find Riley. We take him...home."

Graham's eyes wandered to Joe and the men from the tribe; Buffy had no doubt that he was concerned about his own team, as well. He was probably used to more back-up; either that, or sides that were a bit more even.

Honestly? She was, too. But numbers didn't really matter in this case; Willow's power was enough to annihilate the army with a wave of her hand.

Not that Willow would do that, even if it were the only way to save Riley's life. Not to save anyone's life, in fact: controlling the magic was one thing; dealing with the darker side another entirely. Buffy couldn't think of anything - including, possibly, Xander - that would make Willow ever again use magic to hurt, much less kill, anyone or anything. Even shadowy spirit guys who vanished into thin air instead of crumpling in a heap on the ground.

What Willow would do, however, was make it a fair fight, holding back the masses and only letting through the amount the team could handle. "Will..."

Willow nodded and handed the taser she was holding over to Ana. "Just say when."

Without a care as to whether anyone was following her, she strode over to one of the guards who happened to have the misfortune of being in the last line. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Where are we going? Can I come?" As soon as he turned, she gave him a punch that sent him flying.

Five was a good number. Five was probably the number she'd have chosen. Ten, however? Gee, thanks, Will.

It seemed to be the right amount, though. Apparently, Willow had been through enough of the messing-with-Buffy-boyfriends things to know that in this situation, ten was a good call.

Buffy was sure the rest of the team would have helped if they hadn't had their own concerns. Like, for example, that the tasers didn't work. Modern weapons didn't seem to have an effect in this odd little Wonderland. The only way to kill these guys - or make them disappear at least - was through good old sweat equity. The weapons that worked were the ones propelled by muscle. It wasn't a problem for Buffy - though she liked the toys, she'd never depended on them. Her Lady Guinevere dagger had been the weapon of choice for the last few years; today she was liking the knife she'd gotten from Riley on the bluff. Plus there were always her own two hands.

Two hands she was making good use of. Like, for example, by flattening some guy's face with her fist. That one was dedicated to Kate - it was hard enough at that age to swallow your pride and ask for help, but when it's your father's new girlfriend that you have to go to? Yes. Kate definitely deserved a punch or two in her honor.

Annie, too - whose sweet, kind eyes should never have had to cry for the loss of one parent, much less two. Annie, sweetie, this one's for you. Buffy brought her elbow up and demolished another guy's chin.

And, of course, she couldn't leave Liam and Jack out of the fun. She kicked straight at someone's gut, taking that guy out and the one behind him.

Despite focusing on her own targets, Buffy was highly aware of the others fighting around her. Joe and his friends had been trained well; Graham and his guys - now that they'd fully accepted the dimension's no-taser policy - even better.

She went into Slayer blur status - high-speed, slow-motion, pure destruction mode, working her way into the thick of things. Out of sight of everyone she'd come with, all she registered now was blood and bones - her hands giveth, her hands taketh away. Or at least, someone taketh away - these were definitely the same guys from the bluff, the same spirits who vanished into thin air upon receiving the mortal blow.

That part wasn't exactly breaking news; not nearly as disturbing as the realization that she wasn't getting the rush she usually did. As the enemy's ranks grew thinner, there was a vague, unsettled blah-ness, one that was highly unusual for her, especially in the heat of battle. She was beginning to feel apprehensive - nervous, actually, of how Riley would react when he saw her; so much so that she actually began to pull some punches now that she was nearing the front lines.

She preferred to have a challenge to focus on instead; it was almost a disappointment that these guys weren't fighting harder. They seemed to know they didn't really stand a chance, despite their numbers. They seemed to know they were just -

Buffy whirled around to see a familiar face - though not the one she'd been hoping for, apprehensively or not - staring back at her. The Princess herself, live and in person. Live and particularly gorgeous in person. Oh, and holding a fairly large, fairly imposing knife, by the way. So much for the not being evil thing.

"You have my boyfriend," Buffy said, knocking the knife out of the Princess' hand and throwing a punch that should have sent her sprawling.

It didn't, though. Instead, the other woman merely looked amused as she took a step back and rubbed her jaw. Her eyes crinkled as she cocked her head. "I didn't expect you to be this soft. You're so strong in his dreams."

"I..." Buffy's arm stopped in mid-air at an awkward angle, still drawn back to strike. "What?" Soft? Who the hell did this chick think she was?

The Princess reached out to touch Buffy's hair, which, though a little unsettling, didn't seem to be at all threatening, especially when accompanied by a murmured, "He loves you very much."

Dropping her hand to her side, Buffy decided not to ask the majority of the questions running through her head at the moment, a key one being: How could you possibly know that?

"Kasey!" came Riley's voice from somewhere within a sea of men. "A little help?"

Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes as she turned. Thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.

And, um... Kasey? He called her Kasey? Like, as in, 'we know each other well enough to have cute little nicknames and, no, she's not evil' Kasey?

"Excuse me," the Princess said, heading in the direction of Riley's voice. Over her shoulder, she called to Buffy, "You should come, too. He's nice to watch."

Yes, thank you. I was actually aware of that. Did you catch the 'my boyfriend' part?

Since when did My Little Princess have any right to be the one inviting Buffy to come along, much less be saying anything that sounded even slightly proprietary?

Be nice, Buffy. Especially since this odd development called into question the 'evil' determination.

Unfortunately, however, it also helped bring the apprehension rushing back, and Buffy found that her feet were dragging as she followed Kaseniios... - o.k., it really was a mouthful - through the tinted mist. She just wasn't sure about how this was going to go. She'd tried not to dwell too much on that over the course of the day, focusing instead on just getting to him. But this was going to be it. She figured she'd have an idea as soon as she saw him, or, rather, as soon as he saw her. She'd see it in his eyes. What 'it' was was the big question. And she wasn't entirely sure she actually wanted to know the answer.

Thankfully, some of the spirit men noticed her and detached themselves from the clump Kasenii - that princess really needed to get a more easily pronouncable name - had waded into. A few more seconds of relief. Actually, a few more minutes - the closer she got to Riley the more intense the fighting became. The Maymaygwayshi had apparently sent the elite team up to the front. The others were merely easily beatable cannon fodder compared to these guys.

Still, it didn't take long before she'd disposed of enough men for her to see Kasen... Fine. Whatever.... Kasey kicking up a storm. The Princess was good; had to give her that. Good, and, it seemed, very protective of Riley; as he was of her. So, maybe, not so good. Buffy didn't even need to physically see him to know that he and Kasey had settled into a rhythm, working in tandem; it was clear from the way the bodies were flying.

The whole fighting thing was like a dance - except that the object was to kill, not to tango. There was an intimacy to it, though; something almost sensual. Knowing how the other person moved; anticipating how his body would react and respond. Recognizing the patterns his hands made, the thrust of his weapon.

Once you'd done it long enough, you started to see the threads fit into the tapestry. You could look at the way a demon's throat had been slashed and know that the knife had been wielded by Angel rather than Spike; you could see a body respond to a punch and know whether it had been Wesley or Gunn who had delivered the blow.

You could watch the Princess smile and know that it was because Riley had just sent someone her way, giving her the kill - the kind of thing Riley would only do if he had absolutely no doubt that Kasey knew the dance.

That in itself was almost a knife in Buffy's gut, one that she decided to use as motivation. Giving in to that sudden feeling of defeat would do no one any good. She had to just do her job and fight the fight and cross the Riley/Kasey bridge when she came to it. Which, apparently, was right about now, because, as the last of her men evaporated, she could see Kasey reach over for the collar of a guy who was standing in front of what Buffy assumed to be Riley, now no more than ten, maybe fifteen feet away.

Close enough, at least, for Buffy to see Kasey grin as she pulled the guy away and say something about a...did she say 'sex friend'? No. She couldn't possibly have...

Well, she definitely said something to that effect, because Buffy's first impression of Riley was that he looked damn cute when he blushed. The bruise on his cheek and the blood trailing down his jaw did nothing to diminish that fact.

She didn't have much time for a second impression, however, because as she watched, he looked up in the direction that Kasey was pointing and saw Buffy. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them again, almost as though he couldn't quite believe it. The weapon he was holding - the incredibly cool weapon, by the way - dropped to his side, and it was only thanks to Kasey's quick reaction that he didn't become the fifteenth dead man right then and there, due to a spear coming at his head.

Kasey grabbed it out of the air right before it hit him. She shook her head and smiled indulgently - not at all the reaction Buffy would have expected, given the circumstances - before saying, "Go."

Buffy stood rooted in place - glad, for once, that there was no one left for her to kill - completely unable to move as she watched him make his way to her. He hadn't smiled, hadn't given any indication that he was happy she was here.

She wasn't going to concentrate on that, nor would she think about the two times he had already almost broken up with her in their first few weeks together, or about the time long before that when he'd left her - literally - in the helicopter's dust. Instead she'd just appreciate the beauty of the man as he raised his blade to dispatch of the spirit guy who had just stepped into his path, and as he barely flinched when another guy suddenly emerged from the fog beside him.

That one he didn't even bother to look at. He just flipped his weapon and yanked it back, sending the dagger end into the guy's chest.

It was a nice thing to dwell on, though. Much nicer than all the possible opening lines that were running through her head, like, for example, 'Nice kill. And speaking of dead things - I don't suppose Sam is lurking somewhere nearby?' Or, 'Does the fact that you're out here mean that someone mentioned to you the whole thing about you getting to choose if you're coming back? Because I'm not sure I'm above using the Guilt card and mentioning how devastated your kids will be if I don't bring you home.'

No. Neither of those things would work. 'I make a mean veggie lasagna and wait 'til you see what I can serve up for dessert' wasn't any better. Since he was now only a couple steps away from her, she decided to just go with, "Hi."

Apparently, she'd made the right choice, because even that seemed to overwhelm him. He looked down and turned his head away, quietly asking, "How long have I been here?"

Easy question to start out with. Good - she'd rather take some time to gradually work her way up to the hard stuff. "Four days."

His whole body seemed to relax, although his voice did still catch when he said, "So my kids...?"

So much for gradually. A mumbled, "O.k.," was about the best she could do with that one. Despite the questionable motivation, she debated adding that that wouldn't be the case if Riley decided not to come back with her. She finally decided not to. He was far from clueless; the thought had probably occurred to him.

He was looking at her with what could only be described as trepidation. Because he knew she was here to take him back and he didn't want to go? Because he was trying to figure out how to tell her that Sam was waiting for him somewhere in the middle of this rainbow, and that he couldn't bear to leave his wife? Because he couldn't even bring himself to touch Buffy, couldn't even hug her good-bye - again?

"I did notice that, you know," Buffy blurted out, only barely managing to keep the suddenly threatening tears from escaping. "That you hugged Dawn good-bye and not me."

O.k., so yes, maybe someone listening might think that was kind of out of the blue; might have even gone so far as to be confused, as Riley clearly was. No problem. She could be more direct. "Don't I at least get a good-bye kiss? I mean, these last few weeks were..."

She briskly wiped her eyes. This was so not the right path to go down; so not the point. Especially when he was just staring at her, completely unmoved.

Fine. If that's the way it was going to be... There were other ways to get the job done.

Pretend it's not Riley; pretend it's just some guy who you've been sent in to save. Deal with the emotion later.

In a calmer - and much more impersonal - voice, she said, "Riley - you need to know what this means. I don't know what Kasey told you, but if you stay here, you don't get to come back. Your kids..."

Buffy clamped her mouth shut as soon as she saw the look of pain flash over his face. If he'd already made his choice, she wasn't going to make it harder for him; wasn't going to make him pay for the guilt she felt for not protecting him well enough in the first place.

No, Buffy. That's the whole point - to make it harder for him. To make him understand that magic had brought him here; that there were reasons to come back.

"Damn it, Riley - they need you. They can't... I can't..." So much for keeping the emotion at bay. "It was all a spell. It's not real..."

Her voice trailed off as she realized he didn't seem to be paying attention. Instead, his eyes were riveted to something behind her.

Buffy whipped her head around to see that the lavender mist had begun to settle, slowly revealing a ring of forty men, encircling them. Make that forty heavily armed men, whose weapons - bows and arrows, tomahawks, spears, clubs - were all aimed high enough to take off the head of a six-foot tall man.

Turning her back to Riley, Buffy realized she was kind of glad. She'd rather be fighting - even to the death - than laying her emotions out and coming up empty. She'd much prefer to be thinking about how to protect him if all these men decided to fire - throw, zing, whatever - at once.

She swiveled her head just enough to see that Kasey had done the same thing she had, instinctively falling back to protect Riley. Buffy supposed she should be grateful to have, or rather, for Riley to have the help; at the moment, however, the only thing that made her even close to happy was that he didn't seem to want Kasey covering his back any more than he wanted Buffy to be doing it. At least he wasn't playing favorites.

"So she's really not evil?" Buffy kept her back to Riley. It was easier to talk to him that way. If he didn't want to discuss anything personal, he could at the very least clear up a thing or two.

He might have said more if not for Kasey chiming in with, "I'm standing right here, you know."

"Yes, I know," both Buffy and Riley mumbled at the same time, in the same disgruntled tone, though for entirely different reasons.

She glanced back to see him watching her. For the first time since she'd seen him, he smiled. He said, "So, I see you two have met."

Buffy took a couple steps forward, giving Riley a little more room even though - as he well knew - if the arrows started flying, she'd be on top of him in all of two seconds. Her primary motivation was still to protect him, but she needed to get out of sensory range. It was hard to stand that close and not be able to touch him

"Was meeting the Princess everything you'd...expected?" She caught herself right before she said 'dreamed'; given the circumstances of this entire situation, that would have been a very poor choice of words.

"That's a much longer conversation than I think we have the time for," Riley replied. Though he was clearly still smiling, she could hear the sadness in his voice.

She was determined to keep her tone light. "Maybe we could all go out for coffee sometime." Her eyes swept the circle of men. "I'd love to hear all about it."

That was apparently the complete wrong thing to say. There was such a stillness coming from behind her that she could actually feel it. It didn't help that she caught the loaded glance they exchanged. Loaded with what, she wasn't sure.

Kasey was the one who answered, albeit not by addressing what Buffy had brought up. "Do you two always talk this much? Don't you think you should be concentrating on other things? I mean, our odds don't seem to be getting any better."

Yeah? Well... Listen up, Miss Princess, because if you get to have Riley, then I at least get to speak my mind.

Or, at least, that's what Buffy would have said if she hadn't been trying to concentrate on whatever it was that Riley had started muttering about doors slamming and bears attacking and head games and...

"And what?" Buffy asked. She hadn't come all this way just to hear him have a conversation with himself.

Oh, she thought, as his arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her to him the way the bad guys in the movies always grabbed their human-body-shield hostages.

Except the bad guys didn't usually kiss her neck - well, kiss the human-body-shields' necks - in a way that could be described as spine-tingling.

O.k. So maybe melting into his arms wouldn't be the worst thing. She could still hold on to her knife; could still keep an eye on all the...

She closed her eyes as his hand made contact with the exposed skin just above her waistband.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Battle dress, Buffy. As in, 'the heat of.' "Um, Riley - I'm not sure if this is the place..."

"No," Riley answered, somehow spinning her around so that she was facing him. "This is exactly the place." Though he hadn't let go of his weapon, he didn't seem to be concerned about all the arrows aimed at his head. "This is a weird kind of place. Things don't work the way they should." He glanced around, his eyes taking in the men encircling them. "They're not here to kill us. If they were, they would have done it already."

Interesting point. Still, Buffy noticed that Riley was far from complacent, highly aware of everything going on - how she was reacting to what he was saying; how she was responding to what he was doing, i.e., tentatively running his hand through her hair; how many weapons the opposing team had; and exactly what he would do if they did, in fact, decide to use them. The only thing he didn't seem to be noticing at the moment was Kasey standing directly behind him. Her, he seemed to trust implicitly.

More so than he seemed to be trusting Buffy at the moment. That obviously had to change. "Riley..."

He didn't speak, didn't respond in any way except to look into her eyes, in a deep, probing kind of way. Probing for what, specifically, she had no idea.

Reaching his hand out to her chin, he tilted her head up. "Are you part of all this, too? Just part of the game?"

Did he know there had been a spell? He obviously knew something had been going on. And the 'too' seemed to indicate that he'd already been played once - by Sam, was the connotation. Buffy supposed it shouldn't come as a shock that he wasn't sure where she came into it.

It seemed as though she needed to set him straight. "Riley - though I may not have been the best girlfriend in the world, I have never played games with you." She placed her hand - the one that wasn't holding the knife, of course - over his and brought it to her mouth. Grinning, she added, "At least not ones that were non-consensual."

That at least got a bit of a reaction - a narrowing of his eyes as he considered what she said; a touch of a smile as he decided that it sounded like truth.

He leaned down and brushed her lips with the most gentle of touches. Buffy grabbed his collar and pulled him closer. She couldn't help it. This had been too long in coming to let him take his time.

She could feel his lips broaden into a smile of his own as he took a step closer, mumbling, "Hi," into her lips. He put his hand to the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. Much better. Much, much better.

So what if they were on a battlefield being watched by forty armed men and one highly decorated princess? This was a really nice kiss. This was...

Knife in hand, Buffy whirled around to face the body attached to the voice that had just spoken over her shoulder. She faltered a bit when she realized who it was. "Joe?"

'Man, that was a tough fight,' would have been an appropriate response. Or maybe, 'Did you happen to see the rest of the team? I lost track while we were giving the mystical warriors a good run for their money.'

Buffy took a step back, practically attaching herself to Riley's body, her instinct being to keep herself between him and, well, just about anything. Especially since a quick look around showed that Graham and Co. were nowhere to be seen and Buffy wasn't quite as confident in Kasey as Riley seemed to be.

Definitely weird. And a little too reminiscent of that day by the waterfall. "It would be going better if you didn't keep sneaking up on me like that."

"Believe it or not," Joe replied, the ever-present grin on his face, "that one wasn't me. That was all Joe. Some shape-shifting thing. That's not really my department."

'That was all Joe'? Then who exactly was this guy? And if not Joe, then how would he have even known what she was talking about?

Buffy tightened her grip on the knife and could feel Riley tense behind her as all the men in the circle dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. She glanced back to see that Kasey had done the same. The dropping part, not the tensing one.

Yes. She was beginning to get that. To Joe - or to whomever it was occupying his body - Buffy asked, "What happened to my friends?" None of this felt good; it would feel a lot better, however, if she knew where everyone else was.

"Gone?" All of them? No. No way everyone she came with was gone. They couldn't possibly be. They were doing fine last time she saw them. "Where did they go?" She stepped forward, almost jumping when all forty of the guards leapt to their feet and raised their weapons again. Protecting quasi-Joe?

He seemed completely unconcerned with the urgency in her tone. "Not 'dead' gone," Joe responded. "Just 'gone' gone. As in gone home." His gaze went to something behind her and he distractedly said, "They're fine. Would you excuse me?"

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought as he gestured for Kasey to stand and come forward. Then one of the guards detached himself from the circle and joined them. The three stepped away, moving out of hearing range, though it was obvious that a heated discussion was taking place. Joe did not seem at all happy.

Buffy glanced at Riley several times to see if this made any more sense to him than it did to her - he'd been the one hanging out here.

After a few minutes, the conversation became much more one-sided, with Kasey and the other man keeping their eyes lowered as Joe spoke to them. His manner was calm but his eyes were flashing. Occasionally all three would turn to look at Riley and Buffy before turning away again. Finally, the guard knelt and looked at the ground. Kasey's eyes went wide as Joe spoke harshly. The guard next to her disappeared; within seconds, the other guards were gone as well. Bye-bye circle.

Joe turned his attention to Kasey. Buffy watched as the other woman nodded her head and began to speak, her eyes coming alive as she got further into whatever she was saying. At a certain point, she seemed to turn inward, her arms going around her body as she hugged herself tightly. Even from this distance Buffy could tell Kasey was blushing uncomfortably.

It wasn't exactly surprising when Buffy turned and saw that Riley's face was on the flushed side, as well. Unsurprising and yet not at all what Buffy had been hoping to see.

After giving her another one of those soul-searching looks - trying to see if she'd noticed? - Riley turned away.

Great. Buffy bit her lip, willing herself to ignore the sudden tightening in her chest. Deal with it later. Right now just focus on Joe and Kasey.

Something important seemed to be happening because Kasey's hand had just flown to her mouth and tears were streaming down her face. She seemed shocked as she looked back at Riley.

Riley just seemed puzzled, glancing down at Buffy with an expression giving no doubt that - this time - he had no idea what was going on. When he looked up again, he took a step back, clearly surprised.

As was Buffy. Somehow - in all of two seconds - Kasey and Joe had crossed the twenty or so feet and were now standing right in front of her and Riley.

Kasey grabbed Riley's hand. Though she was still crying, a huge smile came over her face. "I get to..." She shook her head and let go of Riley's hand, choosing instead to throw her arms around his neck.

Buffy was happy to at least see that Riley didn't seem comfortable - not in the way you would if you'd been spending a lot of time hugging someone, or, well, doing other things with them.

After a few seconds, Riley responded with a hug that was more brotherly than anything else. Though he looked questioningly at Joe, he asked Kasey, "You get to do what?"

Kasey pulled away from him, putting her hand to his cheek in what was not at all a sisterly way.

Not Faith, not some vampire, Buffy reminded herself, clenching her fists and making sure to keep her mouth shut. Weird, alternate dimension with mind-bending spells. Later, Buffy. Do not focus on it right now. Do not focus on the obvious intimacy that existed between Riley and this stunningly gorgeous, not to mention young and way too perky - in a physical kind of way - woman.

Apart from the hand to cheek thing, though, Kasey wasn't making any further attempt at encroachment, which was a damn good thing because - despite her cautionary thoughts, Buffy was not above a catfight. In fact, she was surprised that all Kasey ended up saying to Riley was, "Thank you," albeit in a gut-wrenching, incredibly emotional kind of way.

Getting a little tired of being the only one in the dark, Buffy turned to Joe, ready to take it out on him. Which, o.k., maybe not so mature, but better than letting it fly with Riley at the moment. There was way too much history to even attempt to bring up right now.

She had actually started to say Joe's name when she heard a new voice say, "See, Finn? You really do have a way with the ladies."

Hadn't this been what she expected all along? Could she actually say she was surprised?

And yet it was a total shock to see Sam standing no more than a few feet away, right in front of Riley, her hand going to his face much in the same way Kasey's had only moments earlier. Except that this time the hand actually had every right to be there and it was Buffy who had absolutely no ground to stand on - which might be why she felt like she was suddenly falling and crashing into a million little pieces; pieces that spelled out the words: 'You should have known this wouldn't work, Buffy. You should have known.'

Yes, o.k. - that was an incredibly selfish reaction to a truly monumental occurrence. Still, as she had already reminded herself in the not too recent past: with head versus heart, heart wins every time.

Oddly enough, Riley didn't look ecstatic or grateful, or even, for that matter, shocked. Instead he yanked Sam's hand from his face and spat at Joe, "I don't care who you are. Make this-"

"Stop," Sam said, finishing his sentence for him, though her meaning was obviously entirely different. "I don't think I have much time." She glanced up at Joe, closing her eyes when he nodded. "I just needed to..."

Taking a few steps back, Buffy was wishing there were some shadows to slink back into. There were so many things running through her head that she couldn't keep them straight, and the predominant feeling at the moment was that she shouldn't be here.

Sam noticed the movement and, for the first time, seemed to register that Buffy was there, too. It was clear she was only barely staving off complete breakdown; Buffy could see it in the way Sam clutched Riley's hand, could hear it in Sam's trembling voice.

Yet Sam obviously had something to say to Buffy; and she managed to flash a smile that was sincere. "This isn't exactly how I envisioned meeting you again."

"I..." No. Buffy couldn't finish the thought. Didn't actually have a thought to finish. It was hard to be thinking anything right now; anything other than the way Riley was looking at Sam, unable to see anything but her.

His wife, Buffy. She's his wife. His dead wife who's now standing right in front of him, holding his hand. Get over it.
Sam wasn't stupid. Dead people rarely were. "Awkward, though. I guess these things always are."

"I guess." Buffy looked up to see Riley watching her now. He appeared to be as uncomfortable as Buffy felt; torn, in a way. Completely ripped apart.

Glancing at Riley and then back to Buffy, Sam clearly caught the look passing between the two. She made an unsuccessful attempt at another smile, looking down as she said, "Thank you for...believing... For following Kate's dreams."

Sam silenced him with a finger over his lips, her hand cupping his chin and turning his head so that he couldn't see Buffy.

Actually, that was fine with Buffy. She didn't really want to see him, either. Not right now at least. Even this was too much.
She ducked her head down as she saw Riley's hand go to Sam's shoulder, pulling his wife to him and burying his head in her hair. He murmured something Buffy couldn't hear - didn't want to hear. Sam's response, though - "I know, Finn. I know. I do, too. I always will." - was loud and clear.

Not that there was even a question of what he'd just said to her. And not that there was a question that a kiss would follow - a tender, aching, agonizing kiss; the kind that stayed with you forever.

"Why are you even watching this?" Joe asked, startling her. "What makes it worse - watching Riley with another woman - with his wife? Or remembering how hard it was to send Angel-"

Buffy's knife was at Joe's throat before he had a chance to finish the question. "You have about ten seconds to tell me who you are and how you're going to get us out of here."

Other than turning her back on them, she didn't have a lot of control over anything Riley-and-Sam related; Joe's not-so-cute heckling shtick however? That was going to end.

Joe laughed as he put his hand around the blade - just wrapped it around the razor-sharp edges - and pulled it out of her hand. "You know - I really don't usually get involved in things at this level, but I like you." He looked over her shoulder. "I'm growing kind of fond of him, too. Go figure."

Before Buffy could turn around, Riley brushed past her, his entire being radiating anger. He, too, went for Joe's throat - or, rather, the material of Joe's shirt, grabbing it tightly and using it to pull Joe to him. "What happened to Sam?"

"Do you really need to ask?" Joe replied lightly. His eyes went a little dark, though; menacing, almost. "I'll give you some leeway; this has all been fairly difficult. I've got a bit of a rep to keep, however. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself." The smile came back into his voice. "Besides, how can I tell you about Sam if you're cutting off my air?"

Buffy had a feeling that Joe didn't really need the air. She was actually starting to get a feeling that this wasn't someone she or Riley should be testing. She reached out and put her hand on Riley's arm.

Though he tensed at her touch, he let go and stepped back, seething. "Where is she?"

Joe actually seemed remorseful. "That was a mistake. She shouldn't have been here that long. I lost..." This time his smile was a sad one. "See what happens when I get too involved? I'm so much better with the big picture." He shook his head, ridding himself of the melancholy, and looked at Riley. "I can assure you, she is quite content."

Riley took a few more steps back, stunned. Clearly that little speech had brought his understanding to where Buffy's was - that Joe was acting quite paternal, in an Our Father kind of way. The Creator himself. He, who had locked Kaseniiosta in her prison.

Joe held out Buffy's knife. It clearly wasn't going to do a damn bit of good in this situation. She took it and put it away, asking, "Why free her now?"

"Plays nice. Works well with others." Joe - she couldn't possibly call him by his real name - gave Riley a pointed look. "Thinks creatively. Takes risks. What?" he asked, seeing the disbelief on Buffy's face. "You're not buying it?"

Buffy shook her head. Not that she needed to; she was sure he - or, He, rather - could read her mind.

"I told you. I made a mistake." Joe's eyes went cold. "Trust me. You don't want to make me admit that again."

Riley didn't seem to see the 'Danger - Thin Ice' sign. Either didn't see it, or didn't care. Could anyone really blame him?
Despite the angry look that came over Joe's face, Riley stood his ground. "Something made you remember she was there. What was it?"

Dumb. Really, really dumb. And yet utterly cool. Go, Riley. Take it to him. Um, Him.

Buffy waited for the lid to blow - for lightning to strike, the ground to open up and swallow them whole, or some such biblically proportioned reaction. She was not quite ready for the smile to come back to Joe's face.

"Uncle," Joe said, holding up his hands. "You want to hear me say it out loud?" He was smiling again, almost laughing as he looked at Riley. "For someone who hasn't been around that long, your wife has learned how to work the system. She can be...tenacious."

O.k. It was bad enough to watch Riley with Sam, not to mention knowing that something had obviously happened between him and Kasey. But to stand around and be part of the Sam Finn Admiration Society? With Riley and, well, hell - might as well say it regardless of it sounding more ridiculous than the whole attack of the butterflies thing - God? No way. No freakin' way. Buffy snapped, "How do we get home?"

Joe raised his eyebrows. "You still want to take him home? After seeing him with Sam? And I'm sure you know what happened with-"

"You sure I can't keep him?" Joe asked, grinning despite the obvious displeasure radiating from both Buffy and Riley. He didn't push it much further, though, holding his hands up and saying, "Fine, fine. Let's discuss."

"Discuss?" There was only one option as far as Buffy was concerned. "What's there to discuss?"

"Well, here's the thing..." Joe looked around. "Don't you wish there were some pre-positioned chairs? Don't you just get tired of standing sometimes?"

"Right. Sorry." Joe gave Riley a sympathetic look. "Just so you know - there's a special place in Heaven for you." He shook his head. "First Sam, then Buffy... And your daughters - they take after their mother, don't they? That's the kind of rest that's earned the hard-"

"'The thing.'" Buffy resisted the impulse to remind everyone that it had been Buffy first, not Sam. "Could we get back to 'the thing'?"

A total look of innocence came over Joe's face, as though he couldn't imagine what she was making such a big deal about. "Sure. Why not?" He shrugged. "It turns out there's a bit of a technicality."

"Not you," Joe answered, indicating Buffy. "You're no problem. Your friend left the door open. You can go back at any time. Just click your heels and all that."

Buffy shook her head. He couldn't possibly be saying that she couldn't take Riley with her. "I'm sure Willow left the door open wide enough for Riley to come, too."

Joe smiled - could she just mention how sick she was of that smile? He said, "That's not how it works. You're just visiting." He nodded towards Riley. "He was sent here to stay. This is just a pit stop on the way to... Well, the train doesn't really have that many destinations. Let's just put it that way. And once you get here, there's not usually a way back."

Absolutely not. That was a ridiculous answer. "Of all people, you should be able to break the rules."

"Sorry." Joe looked genuinely apologetic. "That one's not up to me. Some of the wheels just turn all by themselves. Once they start going, even I can't stop them."

Buffy took a deep breath. There had to be a loophole. After all, there was that whole thing about - "True love," she said triumphantly. "That was how we got here; it's how we're going to get back."

Assuming that the 'you people' thing meant peoplekind, rather than just her and Riley, Buffy decided to treat that as a rhetorical question.

"Nah," Joe continued. "True love's pretty much a dime a dozen. I mean, don't get me wrong - it's a good thing. But, well, it's been done." He shrugged. "Nice try, though."

"Wait!" Buffy cried as Joe held his hand out, beckoning to Riley. She yanked the chain from her neck, thinking - hoping - that maybe the ring meant more than just a way for Sam to communicate. Maybe Kate's insistence about bringing Riley back his ring had a greater meaning.

"See?" she said, grabbing Riley's hand and ignoring the question in his eyes as she slipped the ring on his finger. "I have the ring. From Sam." Kind of. She turned back to Joe. "Is that enough?"

Joe got very serious very quickly, and Buffy actually took a step back. The games were over. This was the big time. Joe no longer seemed amused.

"Well, I do kind of have a discretionary fund. It comes with a price, though." Though his words were light, they were delivered with a chill that Buffy could feel in her bones.

After a moment's hesitation, Joe replied, "Here's the deal. It's all about trust; a leap of faith, if you will."

Buffy got a sinking feeling in her gut. Please don't make it be about that. Please don't make this all depend on what she was feeling at the moment, because she couldn't honestly say that she was trusting anything right now, least of all how she and Riley fit together.

"You guessed it," Joe said, even though she knew full well she hadn't said anything out loud.

No. This shouldn't be up to her. Buffy glanced uneasily at Riley; he looked up briefly before glancing away, obviously seeing her doubt. This shouldn't be up to her, especially after that all too visible reminder of exactly how badly Riley could hurt her, of exactly why she had spent years building up the walls around her heart.

"Mmmm," Joe responded with complete boredom. "Whatever." He snapped his fingers. "So what will it be? Door number one means you get to go home - no harm, no foul..." Joe nodded at Riley. "...Except he stays with me. Door number two means your fate is tied to his. Or, rather, his to yours."

Buffy bristled as Joe came to stand directly in front of her. She could hear the whispers clinging to the wind: You saw the way he looked at Sam. You know how much he loves her. Did you really think he could love you, too?

She pushed the voices aside. The deal may suck, but it was obviously the only shot she had of getting Riley home. "What exactly is it that I need to do?"

"That's kind of obvious, don't you think?" Joe asked "You need to prove that this is worth my time. That you're not just going to give up every time the going gets rough."

She saw Joe's eyebrows go up. She'd forgotten that reading her mind thing. Damn, she hated that.

If it wasn't the ring, and it wasn't true love, then, "How?" She didn't bother to keep the exasperation from her voice.

Stop it. Did you happen to forget that you were practically children then? Did you happen to forget the last few weeks?

She found herself falling to her knees, pushed to the ground by an unseen hand. Oh, so not good. Buffy, why can't you ever just shut up? "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably." Joe smiled again as he stood over her, lowering his hand. "For some reason, these things always do."

Her hands flew to her chest, and she grabbed on to Joe's wrist, attempting to hold him off. He was too strong, though; much too powerful. He reached inside - breaking bone, tearing muscle - and took hold of her heart; crushing it, probing it, picking it apart.

This was the 'how'? Would it have been a little less excruciating if she'd kept herself from thinking those, um, blasphemous thoughts?

Why couldn't he see it like normal people? Better than normal people. Wouldn't his vision be at least twenty/twenty?

A great comeback - a quip about Tinkerbell - was just sitting there, right on the edge of her tongue; but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a gasp of pain. She tried to focus on the warmth as Riley's arms were suddenly around her, trying to protect her, on his voice calling out her name.

The hand disappeared, replaced by an ice-cold dagger plunging into the raw, open wound; twisting and turning and exploding into thousands of tiny jagged pinpoints, coursing through her veins. Tearing at her from the inside; trailing down her arms and legs, like a swarm of tiny ants speeding about, under her skin. Turning from ice to fire, rushing up to her head, pressure building and building, burning from within.

And here she thought she'd been wearing her heart on her sleeve, sharing more of herself with Riley than she ever had before. Apparently not. Apparently it was still buried deep - deep enough that it was necessary to do major excavation to find it. It was there, though - she was sure it was. Somewhere...

She had never felt pain like this, had never before felt physical pain so intense that it obliterated thoughts of everything else. Pain so intense that it alone could kill her. So intense that she actually wanted it to.

When the explosion came - as she knew it would - she could feel her mind leave her body. A violent separation accompanied by a thundering sound and an overbearing light, both disappearing as quickly as they came, leaving nothing but emptiness in their place. A dark, empty, silent void into which she saw her life slipping away.

And then slowly, gradually, the color crept back, seeping into a series of images playing in her mind. Visions. Not of warriors and weapons this time, but of kids - Riley's kids - clamoring around her, laughing and crying, a tangle of arms and legs… Of a ring, its glittery facets shining as Riley held it in his hand… Of a dress, long and flowing and surrounded by thousands of white daisies… Of a house, tiny and neat, nestled into the shadow of an ice-capped mountain…

Of another child. Two… Of children growing up and having children of their own… Of graying hair and aging friends…
Her eyes flew open and she looked up to see Joe watching her.

Joe smiled and shook his head, as though in response to her questions. Or, rather, as though he was choosing not to respond.

She heard more words; watched his eyes as he spoke to her without uttering a sound.

'You are a pleasure to me,' he said. 'Like Kaseniiosta. I will enjoy watching you. I await the day you sit with me again.'
Before Buffy could say anything in response, he was gone. She turned to Riley.

He looked like he was about to break, like he couldn't possibly handle one more thing.

Wordlessly drawing his face to hers, she kissed him. She lost herself in his mouth and his hands, closing her eyes to the world spinning around her. Dizzy and weak, she crawled inside of him, oblivious to the flames rising up around them, the heat building beneath them and above. Overwhelming them completely as they faded into the dust.