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Riley leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a huge gulp of coffee - scalding hot, extra cream, extra sugar; just the way he liked it. He watched the scene play out around him: his parents happily bustling around the kitchen while the kids sat at the table with Buffy, discussing the exact constitution of a perfect ice cream sundae.

Annie shook her head. "It's the ratio. The perfect amount of hot fudge to the perfect amount of ice cream."

"Unh-uh," Buffy countered, easily slipping into the family dynamics regardless of what she'd said earlier. "It's all about the unexpected. The extra touch."

Well, Riley had no idea where she reached into - wherever it was that she stowed things; somewhere in the almost nonexistent folds of her much-too-nicely-fitted-for-him-to-being-paying-attention-to-at-the-moment shirt. When her hand reappeared, she was holding a roll of wintergreen LifeSavers.

Taking two out, she placed them on the table and grabbed a spoon, using it to crush them into dust. Jack, of course, thought the sparks were the coolest things ever, and his attempts to do some crushing of his own were sad enough that his sisters took pity on him, showing him he could just bite down hard for the same effect.

They were so busy doing all this that they didn't seem to notice it was next to impossible to crush LifeSavers into particles smaller than sand with your hands and a spoon. Unless, that is, you happened to be born with preternatural strength.

That was good at least. Though it was clear from the whole Kate being prophetic thing that one of his kids - at a minimum - knew far more than Riley was comfortable with, he had no interest in them finding out that Buffy also went by the name, 'Slayer.'

Once the whole sparks excitement died down, Buffy sprinkled the dust over the whipped cream and pushed the sundae towards the center of the table. "See?"

Jack was the first to take a spoonful. He reluctantly said, "Yeah, o.k. That's pretty good. But I bet it would be better if you had six times that amount of ice cream."

"Well, duh," Buffy agreed, leaning over and ruffling Jack's hair, in the most natural way ever. As she sat back in her chair, she looked up and grinned at Riley, obviously realizing that her whole 'outsider' argument was taking on water by the second and sinking fast.

Riley knew the smile he gave her back was pretty damn big. He couldn't help it. Although at no point during the last four days did Riley ever think he was dead, he had to admit that he felt more alive right now than he had in years. Eight and a half years to be exact. Eight and a half years of sleepwalking through life, giving most of what he had to his kids, saving the rest for work.

Part of the rejuvenation was thanks to Buffy - there was no denying that. Part of it, maybe, but not all; not the part that had to do with this unfamiliar feeling of freedom. An unfamiliar feeling called closure.

It was having the chance to say: I never should have let you leave like that. I never should have let you go.

Without that, he probably wouldn't be feeling the way he did at the moment, surrounded by the people he loved more than anyone else in this world: his kids, his parents. Buffy.

Standing here, at this moment? It was like the sun had broken through on a foggy day. Nothing but blue skies ahead.

Even the fact that Kasey's drawings didn't seem to want to come off - despite the five minutes Riley had just spent in the bathroom going at them with just about everything he could think of - did nothing to dampen this feeling. His entire forearm was rubbed raw, unfortunately, but - this incredible feeling? Still there.

Not that there wouldn't be clouds up ahead. There was absolutely no doubt in Riley's mind that life from here on in wasn't going to be as rosy as it currently appeared. At the very least, there would be blinding moments of panic. The sudden lack of air. Nightmares, too.

And Riley was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who'd have his moments - it was obvious in the prolonged looks coming from across the room where his mom stood; and from the way his dad hadn't moved much further than arm's reach in the twenty minutes that they'd been standing here. Even Buffy - the epitome of non-clinginess - kept finding reasons to make her way over to where Riley stood by the fridge, reasons to let her hand linger on his arm.

The kids? Once they'd gotten beyond the tearful greetings, they seemed to be just fine, completely over the fact that they'd been orphaned, if only for a few days. They were all happily eating their ice cream, chattering away.

The question, of course, was whether it would last. Riley was thinking probably not. He had a feeling Jack would be having an even harder time with good-byes; Annie would probably become too much of the caretaker.

Liam was harder to peg down. In the looks department, it was clearly like father/like son. Riley was hoping that wouldn't be the case on the emotional front; that Liam wouldn't go with the crash and burn option that Riley seemed to have excelled at.

Kate would take it to the other extreme, exuding attitude like there was no tomorrow. She'd already started in with a few snarky comments about the markings peeking out from under Riley's - now rolled down - sleeves.

'Why exactly am I not allowed to get henna tattoos, but you come home with them all over your arms?'

Never mind that Kasey's drawings were not henna tattoos by any means, or that Riley was nowhere close to conceding that he'd denied her the chance in the first place.

Riley wasn't going to rise to the bait, however; he wasn't going to let it bother him. This was the time to be grateful for the good things - like making it back from the dead. Like making it back from the dead after making a pretty high placed friend, at least if Buffy were to be believed.

He took another sip of coffee. Right now, he wanted to get back to the bliss. Back to the sheer perfection of this moment. Back to the absolute-

"What?" he asked sharply, hoping he didn't just hear his mother say what he thought he'd heard her say. Hoping desperately that if he really had just heard the words 'Angel' and 'Christmas' in the same sentence it was because his mom was deciding that it was never too early to think about getting a new gauzy doll-like thing for the top of the tree.

"I said," she repeated, "we'll have to let Angel know that the invitation for Christmas still stands."

No, unfortunately. She had actually said what Riley thought she'd just said. He only just barely managed not to choke on his coffee.

Buffy wasn't so fortunate. The napkin she delicately put to her lips did nothing to hide the fact that she'd just spewed whipped cream. "Christmas?" she said weakly. "Angel?"

Or, Riley thought, more to the point - "You invited Angel for Christmas when you were planning my funeral?"

Mom's 'I wasn't put on this earth to suffer fools' look which, when combined with her 'did I not teach you to be hospitable?' look, did nothing to make Riley any happier.

She glared pointedly at him. "Forgive me for wanting to dwell on the family we had left rather than who we'd be missing."

"On the fam-?" Riley shut his mouth almost as soon as he opened it. Smiling, he said, "You mean Buffy?" He looked at Buffy to see if she'd heard what his mother just said.

She had. She seemed kind of stunned despite him already telling her as much. There was a great smile on her face, though - such a great smile. One that just shouted out the warm and happy.

Actually, he was mostly feeling the same way himself, even if it did mean enforced quality time with Angel. And, since this was the kind of bubble that burst fairly quickly, Riley was just going to go with it.

Good thing, because it lasted exactly 3.7 seconds, ending in a huge splat on the proverbial pavement when Jack finished whatever it was he'd just been saying about Angel with, "…so we'd have to have our snowball fight at night - o.k., Grandma?"

Riley looked up quickly to see Kate knock the side of Jack's head, something she would normally have gotten into trouble for.

"What did you just say?" Riley asked. He was not at all pleased to see Jack turning bright red while the three other kids looked at Buffy, somewhat pleadingly.

Buffy didn't seem to be surprised by this. In fact, there was an interesting dynamic occurring at the kitchen table - the kids sinking back in their chairs while Buffy leaned a bit forward, the mother hen.

Benefit of the doubt. Let's start with that. Riley said to Jack, "What was that about the snowball fight?" He couldn't help but turn to Buffy. "Why exactly does it have to happen at night?"

Jack made a not so good attempt at backpedaling. "Angel, um… He, um… He can't-"

"He likes to sleep late," Kate cut in. She got to her feet and started gathering up ice cream dishes - clanking them together loudly enough that it was hard to hear her mumble, "He's not a morning person."

Did Kate honestly think that professing knowledge of Angel's sleeping habits would help?

There was a sudden flurry of activity as - at once - Annie, Liam, and Jack stood, following Kate's lead of clearing off the table. Since when did any of them care about doing their own dishes?

Mom and Dad were in on it, too, busily cleaning up the kitchen - the kitchen, by the way, that was nearly immaculate given Mom's penchant for cleaning when she was upset.

This, of course, had nothing to do with 'upset' cleaning. This was make-as-much-noise-as-possible-because-it's-way-too-late-to-be-having-this-discussion cleaning.

Did his kids seriously know that vampires existed? That Angel was one? Riley looked over to Buffy, the only person in the room who was going about things in a calm, matter-of-fact kind of way.

She was standing slowly, watching him as she brought her dish to the sink and handed it to Riley's dad. There was a guarded look on her face - the kind of look that Riley knew all too well from wearing it himself on countless occasions. Mostly it was the mask you wore when gauging how much to tell the hapless person standing in front of you something that was about to rock their world.

She put her arms around him and smiled, completely ignoring his annoyance - which was exactly what Riley would do in the same situation. Had done, in fact, time and time again, telling civilians things they really didn't want to hear. This wasn't really much different. Except for the arms around them part, of course. Oh - and that he was on the complete wrong end of this conversation.

With those notable exceptions, however, this was standard operating procedure. Diffuse the situation, let the other guy think he had some control over what was happening, and ignore any personal considerations that might cloud things up. Buffy was doing a stand up job, especially given that Riley was absolutely sure she was just as unhappy with the Angel/Christmas/Here scenario as Riley was.

Although, if Mom invited Angel then that probably also meant - "You'll be here for Christmas?" Riley asked, a grin finding its way to his face as he looked down.

Buffy shrugged in a carefree, content kind of way. "I was thinking yes. I mean, if that's o.k. with you."

Was she crazy? "Of course it's o.k. with me. As long as you don't mind the whole Iowa contingent." As in brothers, wives, kids. Lots of them.

When Riley nodded, her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, saying, "No. I don't mind. I don't mind at all."

Riley caught himself just before he bent down to kiss her. He reminded himself that he was standing in the middle of his kitchen. Surrounded by his kids and parents, in fact, all of whom - though actively pretending otherwise - were completely focused on him and Buffy. So - probably not a good time for a lip lock.

Plus, he was in the middle of being supremely irritated. And no one had answered any of his questions yet. Like - how would his kids possibly know anything about the fact that Angel and daylight didn't go together? Or, more importantly, when in the fucking hell did they meet Angel in the first place?

Breathe. Just breathe. Just calmly look down at Buffy and say, "Angel was here?" In this house? "Being…" What was the word Buffy had used back at the Base? "…Intense?"

Highly aware of the attention still on them, as evenly as possible he said, "So that thing you were mentioning earlier?" As in that almost getting horizontal with Angel thing, which Riley was fairly certain he didn't have to clarify. "That was here?"
Not that he even had a right to ask, considering.

As Buffy wasted no time in reminding him. She walked towards the sink and snapped, "Remember that leg you didn't have to stand on in Quetico? I haven't exactly seen any miraculous regeneration."

Right. Back to the kids then, who immediately returned to whatever it was they were doing - putting ice cream away, wiping the table, sweeping the floor, for God's sake - as soon as he looked up at them.

O.k. Fine. Riley wasn't above interrogating his family. With a glance at Buffy, Riley said to them, "So... Angel."

Folding his arms across his chest, Riley leaned back against the counter, trying to distinguish the individual words as almost everyone spoke at once.

Dad: "That man certainly likes black."
Annie: "Are you wearing his clothes, Daddy?"
Liam: "He was kind of cool."
Mom: "Such a sweet boy."

Decidedly ignoring the 'kind of cool' and 'sweet boy,' Riley focused on the remaining two comments, the ones that stood out instead: Jack's "I swear I don't know how to read your email" and Kate's "At least Buffy was honest with us." Both of which made it clear that Riley had not been imagining that his kids knew more than they let on.

Turning to the refrigerator, Riley opened the door. Forget coffee; he needed a beer. Grabbing one, he took his time opening it. This was an unusual situation to say the least. His entire family - Mom and Dad included - were eyeing him with complete apprehension. At the same time, they seemed to be looking to Buffy as their leader, as the one who would speak for them; who would stand up to their oppressor - i.e., Riley - and fight him to the death if need be.

All right. That was obviously taking it to the extreme. However - that whole thing about wanting Buffy to be a part of his family? This was not at all what he'd meant.

Buffy didn't play around. She knew as well as he did that they'd moved well past the put-her-arms-around-him-and-bat-her-eyelashes stage, and were smack dab in the middle of the Riley-your-kids-aren't-quite-as-innocent-as-you-thought-they-were one.

Dad's arms went around Mom's shoulders as he said, "We've picked up a thing or two over the years."

As if he really needed one more thing to think about. It was hard to keep from slamming his bottle on the counter as he put it down.

There were enough things for them to occupy their minds with; he hadn't wanted them to worry about the - sometimes literal - monsters hiding in their closet. Even way back before he'd even contemplated having kids of his own, he'd wondered how Joyce had done it; how she'd reconciled her hardwired parental instincts - the fundamental truth that it was your job to protect your kids - with the fact that her daughter was the-

No. He would have known if they were slayers-to-be. There would have been signs by now. Still, he had to look over at Buffy and say, "They're not…?"

And he supposed there was another positive note - this did put an end to the question of when to begin teaching the kids about the harsher realities of life, something he'd been dreading more and more as they grew older.

If it weren't four in the morning, Riley would already be on the phone to Pete telling him to get the gym ready for a bunch of kids and two senior citizens. Now, however, it was time for bed. They all looked exhausted, and Riley was too emotionally spent to handle anything more. Like, for example, what exactly Jack had meant about reading Riley's email or the particular circumstances of Angel's visit. Those would be dealt with later.

After hugs and kisses all around, Riley watched them - kids, parents - file out of the kitchen. Only Annie and Kate lingered; Kate remaining in the doorway while Annie came back to Riley for a second hug, one that involved a fair amount of tears; tears, however, that were gone fairly quickly.

Pulling away, she wiped her eyes. She smiled, though, and said, "Don't worry about us. We're not scared. We know you and Uncle Graham won't let anything happen to us." With a sly glance at Buffy, she added, "Just the way we won't let anything happen to you."

Right, Riley thought, looking at Buffy and wondering what it was that had so obviously gone on between her and them. Given everything that had been said, it wasn't too hard to figure out that it at least involved Kate's dreams. Dreams which had led to a conversation with Buffy, one substantial enough to explain Kate's statement that 'at least Buffy was honest' with them.

A sullen, surly statement, by the way, which, when deconstructed, had almost too many layers to count. Take the first three words for example. 'Buffy' = 'the woman you've chosen to take Mom's place and therefore upset the balance of my whole universe.' 'At least' = 'said woman had the balls to tell us the truth, a truth you thought we were too young to handle. Instead, you chose to lie to us our entire lives. Not to mention that you never taught us how to protect ourselves from all the bogeymen who are out there in the night.'

Except for that little bit at the end, maybe. That was probably his guilt talking.

Riley's eyes went to where Kate stood. He sighed inwardly, thinking that this was only the beginning. Hell, he'd heard the stories of Sam back in the day.

No. Put that differently: He'd heard the hellish stories of Sam back in the day.

He didn't need hints from up on high that Kate was going to be trouble. Her grin did nothing to convince him otherwise, though he couldn't help but return it. Riley felt for his ring, twisting it with his thumb. It did not escape him that some of the things he had loved most about Sam - like, for example, her total contempt for rules and authority - were the exact things that were going to make the next few years with Kate go down in the Teenager Hall of Fame.

"Good night, Daddy," Annie gave Riley a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you." On her way out of the kitchen, she made sure to stop and give Buffy a hug, saying, "We decided that you get to pick what we have for breakfast - pancakes or French toast."

"It's o.k.," Kate said as Annie joined her in the doorway. "I'm sure my dad has his own supply of condoms. No worries."

Kate smiled and ducked as Annie hit her on the shoulder, Annie looking back at Buffy apologetically. With that, the two of them ran down the hallway and clomped up the stairs.

Riley closed his eyes and finished the beer. Damn if he didn't need another one already. He supposed he should at least be grateful that the conversation hadn't been detailed enough that they knew condoms were no longer the birth control method of choice. By the time he opened his eyes, the blush had faded from Buffy's face. He wasn't sure he could say the same for himself.

Walking past Buffy to the sink, he rinsed the bottle and asked over his shoulder, "Was there anything you didn't cover? Did you and Willow decide to teach them all about magic, too?"

He tried to keep from sounding harsh. He didn't quite manage, though - apparently he was wound a little tighter than he'd thought.

Buffy seemed to be in a generous mood, however. "They came to me." She was clearly cutting him some slack, coming to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, leaning her head against his back. "Besides, it was your daughter who had the dreams."

Actually, he kind of liked that she didn't tell him. In the long run, that would probably bode well for her and Kate.

Kissing his neck, she murmured, "You shouldn't be surprised if they ask about Sam, though."

"Sam?" Riley asked, straightening up. He took a few steps past her and leaned against the island, unconsciously glancing at the doorway where Kate had just been standing. Thank you for following Kate's dreams, Sam had said. "She came to them? That was Kate's dream?"

Buffy didn't answer. Instead, she gave him a long look and said, "It's just going to take a while to get used to it."

"It will not take a while to get used to it," he snapped, for no earthly reason other than he'd just had a major 'kitteny' flashback.

Apart from finding out that Kate was in touch with her mother through her prophetic dreams? Gee. Let's see.

In the last twenty-four hours he'd found out that his kids had not only met Angel but they knew he was a vampire. Knew, in fact, that vampires existed, which of course led Riley to wonder what else they weren't telling him.

They'd apparently had some kind of interaction with Buffy that had the majority of his family lining up behind her. And let's just throw in the fact that some fundamental beliefs he'd had for, oh, forty years, had essentially been shot to hell when he'd held his dead wife in his arms in front of someone who may or may not have been God.

Perhaps the most disturbing of all - a mere three weeks after meeting her for the first time, Kate had just given Buffy her blessing albeit in an obnoxious, fourteen-year-old kind of way.

It looked like there were a million things running through Buffy's head - one of them very possibly being, Yes, that's what I just said, Doofus. All she actually verbalized, though, was, "That sleeping thing you don't have going on? It probably isn't going to get much better."

Considering he hadn't even been back for a full day, he wasn't sure he could say with any certainty, but, "No," he replied. "Probably not."

There were a few moments of silence. When she finally spoke, it was with a smile in her voice. "Then maybe we should get busy with the not sleeping." Quietly, she added, "I mean, if you want…"

Well that was a ridiculous statement. Even at completely inappropriate times, like, for example, when he realized he might not actually be able to choose between his new/old girlfriend and his newly-returned-from-the-dead wife - his living, breathing non-dead wife... Even at completely inappropriate times there was no question.

He reached out for Buffy's hand and pulled her flush against him, gruffly answering, "Yes, I want."

Gone. Completely faded away the second he held her in his arms. She was the one thing he was sure of right now. The only thing in his life that didn't have a warning flag attached to it. Kind of ironic considering it had been pretty much the complete opposite for most of the last sixteen years.

She smiled and looked up at him, ran her hands up underneath his - or Angel's, rather - sweater; kissed him as her fingers trailed up his chest.

As enticing as this was, he pulled her hands away, stopping her. "Wait." He didn't want to do this in the kitchen. He wanted to make love to her properly - in his bed. He wanted to wake up next to her and do it all over again. "Upstairs."
Her eyes went to the doorway. "I…" She pulled back. "That's o.k.?"

Riley nodded his head. Damn right it was o.k. Hell, if his kids could handle the whole vampire thing with such obvious aplomb, they could certainly manage the fact that he and Buffy were sleeping together; which, incidentally, they'd obviously figured out anyway. Besides, that breakfast thing hadn't just been tossed out lightly - there was a good twenty to thirty minute discussion behind Annie's statement.

Buffy seemed to accept that as an answer. At least she didn't hesitate when he held his hand out and led her into the hall and up the stairs. When they got to his room, he closed the door and locked it behind them - his kids were past the barging in stage, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He turned to see Buffy look around the room with…trepidation? Her eyes came to a rest on the open closet door and her face fell. She wrapped her arms around herself as though she'd suddenly gotten very cold, then briskly turned her back and walked over to the window.

Kind of an odd reaction to a closet. Riley looked through the open doorway to see a couple of t-shirts on the floor, a sweatshirt rolled up in the corner - things he hadn't left there. Things he knew without doubt that he hadn't left there, given his practice of not ever leaving anything out when he was away on a trip. That was the kind of detail you were sure about. Especially after not entering your bedroom for the four months following your wife's death because you couldn't bear to see the things she'd left strewn about.

Walking over to the closet, he closed the door. Not just for Buffy's sake, he had to admit. He had no idea where she and Angel hadn't done whatever it was they hadn't done, but the huge closet was as likely a place as any and Riley had no interest in thinking about that right now.

Riley turned around to see Buffy still staring out the window looking contemplative. Not in a good way. She bent down to turn on the lamp that rested by the bed.

He couldn't exactly blame her. It did feel kind of strange to be here with Buffy in his and Sam's room. "Is it just me, or is it weird to have you standing by the bed I shared with Sam while I'm standing here in Angel's clothes?"

Buffy grinned. "Don't forget the part about you being covered in Miss Butterfly Queen's drawings." The smile left her eyes quickly, though, replaced by an intense gaze - one much too intense for comfort. Kind of like she was reading his mind.

Except that reading his mind wasn't really necessary. She'd been there; she didn't need the recap.

Now, see, Ri? That's what happens when you turn down kitchen sex. It was kind of like waking a sleeping baby: just plain dumb.

He leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling very tired. Not helped at all by the whole guilt thing that was going on.

Forget the part about not being honest with the kids, although, this finally explained why they humored him when he would harp about never - ever - inviting anyone in unless they had the o.k. from him first. He'd always wondered why they didn't give him more shit about that. But anyway, the Buffy/Sam guilt continuum? Don't even go there.

The one thing over which he didn't feel guilt, however? The one Goddamned, fucking thing he refused - absolutely refused - to feel badly about? Those moments with Sam. He would never regret that. Ever.

"It was good-bye," he answered evenly. "Something I didn't get a chance to say before. Please don't ask me to apologize for that."

Buffy seemed irritated by his response. "Of course you don't have to apologize. That's not what I meant."

"I've…" Everything about her seemed to deflate, and she sank to the bed, her hand tracing circles on the blanket. "I've been there," she answered sadly; softly. "I've said good-bye." Looking up as though to drive home the point, she continued, "I lost three months because of it." Her voice cracked a little bit at the end there.

No. Not then. She had to be talking about something totally different. Angel? As far as Riley knew, that was the only other time she'd lost actual months.

So, yeah - Angel. Who, as far as Riley was concerned, didn't really have much place in the current conversation. Sure there was that whole undefined Angel-being-here thing, and of course - as always - the fact that Angel was, if indirectly, the reason they'd fallen apart in the first place, but…

Damn it, Riley, you idiot: the reason they'd fallen apart in the first place. Because when she'd said good-bye to Angel, she'd left the world behind.

It wasn't even so much about what she had lost, it was about what she had found: a place she didn't ever want to go to again. A place where she'd have to put herself on the line again; where she'd actually have to invest in something.
That moment broke more than just her heart - it tainted how she dealt with every one and every thing; it tainted her whole being.

Maybe he was reading too much into this. Maybe she was just trying to be sympathetic.

But maybe - just maybe - she was thinking that if it had taken her years to recover from her own good-bye, years in which Riley wasn't the only one who had come and gone... Well, it might just be that she was sitting over there wondering exactly how long he was going to need to process this. How long it would take him to get to where he could get past Sam and think about the future again. How long before he'd be able to even think about putting himself out there again - with her.

It was probably inconceivable to her that the last thing he wanted to do right now was run; that, in fact, all he wanted to do was hunker down and keep her close, keep her right where he could find her when the inevitable nightmares returned.
After all, she never had been so good on the whole concept of getting through things together. It had never been her way.

It almost got you again, Ri: you always fall for the Slayer's act; you always forget about the woman underneath.

She looked up at him. "You just saw Sam," she said, her eyes filling with tears, which, despite understanding where it came from, still boggled Riley's mind. "How could you possibly want to be with-?"

'Be with me,' she was about to say. Except that he didn't give her the chance. He pulled her to him and cut her off with a kiss. The better question was: how could he possibly not want to?

"I don't do this like you do, Buffy. I don't want to be alone." He brushed a strand of hair off her face. "I'm sorry I ever made you doubt how much I love you."

The words hung in the air, and, for a moment, she didn't respond. Then something that sounded suspiciously like a sob escaped her throat. She ducked her head as the tears spilled over. When she looked back up, though, she was smiling. "Likewise," she whispered.

In a blur of motion, she was suddenly in his lap - her arms thrown around his neck, her face buried in his chest, murmuring, "If you ever leave me again, I think I might have to hurt you."

Or, at least that's what he thought she said - the words were muffled by virtue of being spoken directly into the sweater he was wearing.

Riley put his arms around her and held on, glad that something finally felt right, glad that he could finally breathe.

Not that he really wanted to be breathing at the moment. There'd be time for that later. First he just wanted to kiss her - gently, tenderly; he wanted to just get lost in the sweetness of her lips.

She pulled back and looked up at him, a smile appearing in her eyes. "I don't think I want you to be in Angel's clothes anymore."

Frankly, Riley didn't want to be in Angel's clothes anymore either. For several reasons, actually. There was only one he was willing to dwell on right now, however: how much he wanted to be naked. "That makes two of us." He reached over with the intention of switching off the light.

His sweater had pulled up a little, baring his skin. He couldn't see what she was looking at, though. Not from the way he was sitting.

"What?" he asked warily, really hoping that whatever images Kasey had used to depict his dreams weren't nearly as, um, descriptive as the dreams themselves. That would be really fun to explain to the kids. No, Kate - that's not Buffy and me having sex on the beach, that's the one where we were in the shower.

She was pushing aside the sweater, scrutinizing his skin in a way that could only be described as, well, scrutinizing. Then she lifted his sweater up over his head.

The markings were gone. No 'beginning' symbol, no end; nothing in between. Not a trace of ink to be seen on his arms or his chest; or at least, not a trace that hadn't been there before he'd gotten to Kasey's lair.

Not that he missed them or anything - hell no; it was just that it seemed weird given their presence less than an hour ago; or, to be more exact, given that he'd tried to scrub them off without any luck less than an hour ago. Riley didn't like things that didn't make sense. He'd never asked a lot of questions, as Buffy well knew. It was just that there needed to be some logic going on; an order of sorts. Markings disappearing at the exact moment he and Buffy were about to, um, reconnect just didn't feel right.

On the other hand, Buffy - who considered it a fundamental responsibility to ensure that no query was left unturned - didn't seem to care. She smiled in a wicked kind of way. "Good. Now you're my canvas. A clean slate all for me." She leaned forward, letting her fingers trace their own designs on his chest. "I'd rather tell my own story."

Fuck logic, he thought, lying back on the bed as she did exactly that, the tip of her tongue telling some of the better tales he'd heard in recent memory. That was a damn good one, that one right there, heading south along his abs; and - hell, yeah - not a bad follow-up, skimming along his waist, tugging at the button on his-

"Hey," he said, her mouth having suddenly broken its contact with his skin. "I was thinking that was heading towards a good ending."

Actually, never mind. The way she was sitting right now, straddling his waist? That was just fine by him. She had a way of applying pressure in all the right places. And as she straightened up, she certainly knew what she was doing, arching her back in a very deliberate way and pulling the top over her head.

Now that was the kind of beauty you just had to sit back - lie back - and appreciate for a minute.

No - better yet - the kind of beauty you had to take an active part in, sitting yourself up and pulling her close. You had to lean in and run your mouth over the top of her shoulder - not even kissing her; just feeling how smooth her skin felt as you brushed it with your lips.

You had to take your hand and let it trace the curve of her neck; let it travel down the length of the chain she wore and play with the cross getting caught up in the lace of her bra. The cross and the ring, rather.

The cross and a ring that looked a hell of a lot like his own. He instinctively felt for his ring with his thumb. Not there.

Trailing kisses along his jaw, Buffy murmured, "Where'd you go?" He could hear the pout in her voice as she reached for his hand. Then her lips curved into what he was almost positive was a smirk. "What - now that you've been in the presence of God you're not feeling too happy with the cross between my-"

She cut off abruptly and straightened up, her hand going to her chest as her eyes went down.

He reached out for the chain. The one she'd forcibly yanked off her neck while making her case to, uh, whomever. "Didn't you break this?"

She said, "You mean, right before I put your ring back on your finger?" Watching as he turned the cross and ring over in his hand, she nodded. "That's how I remember it."

O.k. Markings disappearing - that was one thing. Maybe they were on a time delay of some sort. Maybe after, well, however many hours it had been since they'd left wherever exactly it was, Kasey's dye hit non-colorscape air and evaporated into nothingness.

A chain being put back together and re-hung around her neck? With the ring that had been on his finger as recently as ten minutes ago? Without either of them noticing until now? There was definitely something more going on.

Remembering the words she'd used when making her case to Joe, Riley asked, "What did you mean when you said you got the ring from Sam?"

Buffy's eyes went blank, as though she were deliberately choosing not to respond to that question, which, in itself, made absolutely no sense. At this point he couldn't imagine why she wouldn't elaborate - Sam played an obvious role in all this; it wasn't like her name couldn't be mentioned. So, unless there was some as of yet undiscovered reason Buffy was protecting Sa-

"Kate's dream." Well, at least some things were beginning to fall into place, if in a twisted kind of way. "Sam told Kate about the ring." The ring that had been found on the body that wasn't Riley's. "That you needed to get it back to me."

There was a moment of hesitation before she said, "Close enough." She reached behind her head and unclasped the chain, letting go so that the ends fell to Riley's lap as he still held the cross and ring in his hands. She mumbled, "There you go. Back where it belongs."

No. Unh-uh. No fucking way in hell. Even if it meant not ever knowing why the markings were gone, or why the chain was unbroken, or why he wasn't wearing his wedding ring - so be it. This cycle ended now; they were simply not going there again.

Leaning over, he put the chain and all its accompaniments on the bedside table. He straightened back up and held out his hands. "See? No ring, no markings. Like you said - a clean slate. Just you and me."

"A clean slate," she repeated, her eyes narrowing. After a moment's hesitation, she reached for his right hand, holding it in a way that indicated she was either about to demonstrate her prowess at arm wrestling or - the option he preferred - about to guide his hand somewhere along her body. "A new beginning."

Riley was all set to wholeheartedly agree except that his attention was drawn to their hands. Actually, his attention was drawn to the image that had suddenly appeared there, splayed across their fingers. A symbol, really. 'In the beginning,' if memory served.

The mark didn't seem to want to stay where it was, it wanted to move around: flashing on the back of his hand, flitting halfway down her arm. No - it really wanted to move around: skipping along the curve of her shoulder, up to her wrist. Disappearing from her hand, reappearing a moment later on Riley's arm.

One symbol became five, then ten, flickering on then off Riley's palm, swirling in and around Buffy's hair. Twenty, thirty, fifty - a shotgun blast.

Buffy put her hand to Riley's chest. For an instant, the markings vanished, only to be replaced almost immediately by a series of new symbols. The tiny, intricate images radiated outward from the tips of her fingers and consumed every inch of their skin. A tide of text rolling in. Data scrolling by as fast as the eye could see.

"What was that?" Buffy asked. She pulled her hand away and held it up in front of her face, examining it for traces of ink.
Now that was a good question. But he was thinking he might have the answer.

The markings that tethered him to the life he'd had before. Angel's cross and Sam's ring. All whisked away by an unseen hand. An unseen hand that could pen thousands of symbols in the blink of an eye, starting with the most basic - 'in the beginning.'

"A message," Riley said, having no doubt of its translation, albeit not the actual details. A record of their history. The stories yet to come. "And I'm hearing it loud and clear."

Reaching past her to turn out the light, he felt her shift as she lay back on the bed. She sighed and closed her eyes when he started to kiss her. Started at the beginning - every inch of her yet to be mapped, every ounce of her yet to be savored.

As he moved over her, she reached out to stop him. "Um, Riley?" she whispered, breathing in sharply when his teeth grazed the hollow of her neck.

"There's…um…" Her hand clutched the back of his neck. "…One more…thing."

Her words came haltingly, since, at the moment, he also happened to be cupping her breast. Put that together with the kissing her neck thing and, well, that was one of her preferred combinations.

"I'm listening." Although he wasn't really; not when he was concentrating on undoing the button of her pants.

She seemed to be concentrating on it, too, lifting her hips as he eased the fabric away. Her breath caught when he brought his hand up along the inside of her thigh. It made her that much harder to hear when she - kind of gaspingly - said, "It turns out…your kids can hear…a lot of what goes on around…here."

He stopped abruptly and pulled his hand away. Without even realizing it, he glanced back over his shoulder, even though he knew they were all in another part of the house entirely. "They can…?"

Putting his mouth back to her neck, he let his hand fall back into place. "Then don't scream."

"I thought she said to turn left and go down the hill," Anya said, looking at the map in her hands.

"No, it said up." Xander made the turn slowly, for the billionth time regretting that he'd insisted on personally bringing Buffy's stuff east rather than having her just fly it all out as she'd intended in the first place. U-Haul trailer + Ford 350 pickup complete with crew cab + two kids and one ex-demon non-wife still high from their three-day Hershey's bender = nothing but trouble on narrow, winding Boston streets.

"'Cause you ate too much chocolate," Xander muttered, still feeling vaguely sick himself.

Xander whipped his head around as a blur of color flew past the window, heading down the hill at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour. "What the…? Was that Dawn?"

"That's ridiculous," Anya answered distractedly as she read the numbers on the houses. "Why would Dawn be skateboarding down a steep hill while clutching the hands of tall children?"

"Yeah, but…" Xander stared after... Dawn. That was definitely Dawn on that skateboard. With, yes - three tall children, the girl and the boy being particularly so. And that older boy… "Do we know that kid? He looks familiar."

Anya didn't respond to the question, instead, saying, "Number eighteen should be the next one. Here's a spot. Park now."

Sure - if you were driving a Mini-Cooper. That was Ahn, though - not loving the details. Unless they involved money or demons, of course.

Xander pulled to a stop a little further up the street, driving past Buffy's house to the tune of "Auntie B! Auntie B!" coming from the back seat.

The kids craned their necks and banged on the windows, trying to get Buffy's attention and prompting Xander to shout, "Stay in your seats until the car stops!"

"Oh, honey - that's so sweet." Anya grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. "Statistically, though, it's much more likely that they'll be eviscerated by a Wornstruck demon than thrown from the car before you park."

Before Xander could respond, Grace piped up with, "Mommy - why is Auntie B kissing the gardener?"

Anya reached down to get her bag off the floor. "Auntie B doesn't have a gardener."

Grace was not deterred. "But she's kissing the man who was cutting the roses off her front door. Eeew. He's all sweaty and dirty."

Xander had to smile as Anya murmured, "Sweaty and dirty aren't always a bad thing."

Michael, obviously deciding that his mother's answer wasn't sufficient, gave an exaggerated sigh. "Gracie - she's kissing him because he's her man to love. You know that."

"'Her man to love'?" Xander raised his eyebrows and looked at Anya. "Is this what you're teaching them?"

The look she gave him screamed, Oh, Honey - it could be so much worse. She didn't say anything in response, however, instead leaning into the back so she could see out the window. "Where's this gardener, Gracie? Oh, my." Her voice perked up. "Well, yes - I'd kiss him, too."

"His arms are very nicely formed. Shapely back..." Anya said, mostly under her breath.

Xander looked out his window. "Geez, Ahn - too bad you can't actually see his face." Gardener, my ass. Wasn't so good with keeping up with the roses. "Or maybe I should just ask him to drop trou? Then you could check out his... Um..."

Anya somehow managed to tear her eyes away and pull herself back into the front seat - probably just to gloat that she wasn't the one about to use words highly inappropriate for a four- and six-year-old. "Oh, Xander," she sighed. "It's not like we're married, you know."

He craned his head again, just in time to see Mr. Hot and Sweaty disappear into the house, the guy's hand lingering on Buffy's waist in a much too familiar way for non-approved green thumb types. For non-approved green thumb types that Buffy couldn't possibly know that well, having been in Boston for less than two months.

Getting out of the truck, Xander opened the back door, waiting for Anya to do the same. As they helped the kids climb out he said, "Since when does Buffy hire a gardener? She likes to do that stuff."

Anya shook her head. "Except for the bees. I've never known a Slayer that was so bothered by-"

She was cut off by a yelp coming from Buffy's front door. Buffy had obviously been so involved in her kissing that she hadn't noticed a huge, black truck towing a bright orange U-Haul driving up her street until now.

"Gracie! Michael!" Buffy yelled as she flew down the steps. Reaching the kids, she dropped to her knees and threw her arms around them. "Just wait until you hear what we've got planned for you - we're taking you sailing and to Fenway Park. And tomorrow we'll have a picnic - we can play football and baseball and Annie said she'll teach us soccer."

Anya hit his arm. She could clearly care much less about sports, asking instead, "Since when do you kiss the gardener?"

"The gardener?" Buffy stood up straight and reached out to give Xander and Anya hugs. She looked puzzled. "I don't have a…"

"Xander's feeling jealous and protective," Anya helpfully added. "He thinks we should meet him. Now."

"Oh." Buffy smiled and looked up at the door. "Well, technically, you've already met him. Spent a fair amount of time with him, in fact."

That meant, like, three guys in the whole history of Buffy. One was dead; another was, well, also dead, but currently broodily residing in L.A.; the other…

She led them up the stairs to the house, opening the front door, and saying, "I meant to tell you earlier. I really did. It's just..." She shrugged. "Things have been a little crazy."

They walked through a screened-in porch, and into a mostly bare living room. "This is nice, Buff," Xander said. "A little vacant maybe..."

His voice trailed off as they entered the dining room. There were voices coming from the kitchen, one sounding a hell of a lot like Willow's.

It was definitely her, though, laughing and saying, "Kate - tell your dad how good I'm being."

The Kate person, or at least that's who Xander assumed it was, answered, "Dad - I swear. She said no magic. Just the brush and ink. Really."

"Well she works pretty damn fast," came the muttered response. And then more loudly, though not at all unhappily - "O.k. She can do it on both wrists - that's all though. Understand?"

Xander looked up sharply at Buffy - at Buffy who was practically glowing as she leaned back against the wall.

Buffy got a little teary - but in a happy way - as she put Grace down and smiled. "You have no idea."

Just then Riley... Let's just take a moment here: Riley Finn. A very no-longer-missing-in-action-and-presumed-dead Riley fucking Finn - came through the doorway with a beer in his hand, his eyes still on what was happening in the kitchen. As his head turned, he started to ask Buffy where her bottle opener was. Stopping mid-sentence, he grinned. "Xander, Anya - hi."

Anya stepped forward immediately, her eyes a little too focused on Riley's arms. She actually reached her hand out, her fingers moving forward as if to caress his well-defined - as Anya was no doubt thinking - bicep.

She turned to glare at Xander. "I'm not going to sleep with him," she snapped. Turning back to Riley, she did her awkward and - lucky for her - endearing shoulder clap while saying, "You look robust and virile. I'm sure Buffy is pleased."

He didn't say anything else - he was too busy jumping out of Grace and Michael's way as they noticed Willow appear in the doorway behind him. They rushed at her, and there were a few moments of kids screaming over the bonus Willow appearance.

Anya's eyes narrowed as she focused on Willow. "You spelled us into Hershey Park so they could have sex for three days."

Well, o.k. - it was only three: him, Buffy and Willow, all glancing at various children as they did so. Xander was sure Riley was thinking it too, however, seeing as he'd given up on the bottle opener and abruptly headed back into the kitchen. There was the sound of a bottle cap being hit against a kitchen counter; then another.

He came back into the dining room and wordlessly handed the second bottle to Xander just in time to hear the tail end of Buffy's, "Trust me. I wish that's what we were doing."

Kate - also now in the doorway and sporting an almost done Willow-henna-special on her wrist - scrunched her face up. "Dad - make her stop!"

Buffy looked apologetically at Riley, mumbling, "Sorry." She had clearly been taking lessons at the Anya school of What (Not) To Say In Front Of The Kids.

Xander decided it was high time to pick his mouth up off the floor and contribute. He reached out to shake Riley's hand, then thought better of it. Because - fuck it. If any situation deserved a big manly bear hug - beer bottles and all - this one seemed to be it.

This was great. This was someone who actually liked playing poker. This was someone who knew what Airwolf was. This was-

Thankfully, Buffy stepped in and said, "Gracie, Michael - this is my friend, Riley."

Leaning forward, Michael solemnly shook Riley's hand, saying - in a voice that was much too mature for any Harris child - "I'm asking people to call me Mike."

Equally solemnly, Riley answered, "It's good to meet you, Mike." He nodded to the girl standing next to him. "This is Kate. Her sister and brothers should be back soon."

Kate mumbled, "Hi," and waved, instantly becoming the kids' new best friend when she let them look at what Willow had drawn on her wrist.

Well, that explained why those kids with Dawn had looked so familiar. Of course, it did beg the question: where was the missus?

Riley obviously noticed. He dropped his hand from Kate's shoulder, his thumb subconsciously going to where the ring would have been.

Xander nodded. He'd get the details from Willow. And right now, there was gloating to be had.

Turning to Buffy, Xander grinned, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice. "Wish I could have been there when you told Angel."

Almost too quickly, Buffy answered, "Angel's fine with it. He's even met Riley's mom. Cooked with her in fact."

That seemed to come as a surprise to Riley. "Angel was cooking with my mom? At my house?"

"No." Riley looked from Buffy to Kate. "I would have distinctly remembered that."

Hold on a minute here. Rewind, please. "While Riley was dead?" So was he, or wasn't he?

"Haven't been dead at all yet." Riley nodded towards Kate and Buffy. Maybe Willow, too. "They just thought I was."

"We're hoping to keep it that way," Buffy said, smiling. "The not being dead part, I mean." She seemed so badly to want to reach out and touch Riley. Let her hands do the walking. She kept them to herself, though, clasping them behind her back.

"I'm in total agreement with you there," Riley answered. He put his half-finished bottle of beer down on a folding table, the lone item of furniture in the dining room. "If no one minds, I think I'll take a quick shower."

Ignoring Kate, Riley turned to Xander and Anya, "Sorry to be so rude - hadn't planned on being roped into cutting roses. I'll be back down in a few minutes." To Kate, he added, "One on each wrist. That's all."

Kate rolled her eyes and stomped back into the kitchen. Grace and Michael followed, begging Willow for tattoos of their own as they pulled her behind them.

Riley headed for the stairs, stopping as Buffy grabbed his hand. She pulled him back and drew his head down, giving him the kind of kiss that heated up a room. When they pulled apart reluctantly - purely for decency's sake - they looked at each other the way they used to.

It was want. It was need. It was raw, and it was right. All laid out on the Buffy/Riley table.

Buffy finally let Riley go, watching as he disappeared into the living room and up the stairs. She turned around and leaned back against the wall, a huge grin on her face as she looked at Xander and Anya.

His smile broadening, Xander said, "About time you listened to me - even if it did take you, like, fifteen years."

"She did listen to you back then," Anya corrected, in her ever so tactful Anya way, "she just didn't run fast enough."

Glaring at Anya, Buffy pushed off the wall. She snapped, "I'd like to see how fast you could run after single-handedly dusting-"

"So, Buffy." Xander put his arm around her shoulders as he guided her towards the kitchen. "Did I mention we brought chocolate?"

Buffy knew it was time to clean up after dinner - she didn't even want to think about what kind of bugs had made their way to what might otherwise have been the leftovers; it was too nice of a night, however, not to take advantage of the stars and the moon. And sitting here with everyone on the patio - in her newly reclaimed patio furniture, no less, thanks to all the helpful U-Haul unpackers - she couldn't help but think that the night was just about perfect.

It was hard to believe that a month ago, this house had been empty - a vacant set of rooms serving only to support a hermit's hideaway. No laughter, no life. Just Dawn and Eddie making their case to come out for one night - just this one night; come see the lights.

She leaned back in the lounge chair - well, to be more specific, against Riley in the lounge chair - causing him to shift beneath her.

"Geez, Buffy…" Xander leaned forward and put his drink on the ground between his and Anya's chairs. "Give the guy a break. He looks like he's gonna hurl."

Whirling around, Buffy saw that, indeed, Riley looked not so well. "Are you o.k.? What's wrong?"

Despite the pained look on his face, Riley smiled. "Nothing's wrong." He put his hands to her waist and readjusted her on his lap. "I just ate a little too much."

He grimaced and grabbed her waist, easing her back slowly as he muttered, "Gentle. Please."

"Buffy's never cooked for you?" Anya asked, sounding more than a trifle irritated. "How does she get out of those kinds of things?"

Eddie - Buffy's favorite choice as a future brother-in-law - came to Buffy's defense. "They were in the woods for a while."

Willow, lying on her back on the ground and looking up at the sky, added, "Then he was dead for most of this week."

To Buffy's surprise, Riley didn't respond to that. At some point during the last few hours, he'd finally given up on correcting everyone that he hadn't been dead. He did however, say, "And almost from the beginning-"

He stopped abruptly, and Buffy could hear the smile in his voice as his hands tightened around her waist. She smiled, too; the word 'beginning' had taken on a new meaning since the night before last.

"Almost from the beginning," he continued, "we were training 24/7. There wasn't much time for cooking."

Buffy glared down to where Dawn sat at the base of Eddie's chair. "Gee, Dawn. Supportive, much?"

"See?" Xander said over their voices. "This is why we had to have kids after Dawn moved out here. It just got way too quiet. Had to create our own sibling bickering."

"Yes, Dawn." Anya bent down for her glass of wine. "Whatever were you thinking? Things just weren't the same after that."

"Hand," Willow said to Xander, waiting for him to help pull her up. Once she was sitting, she drew her legs up to her chest.

"This does kind of bring back the memories - doesn't it?" She rested her chin on her knees. "Remember how we used to set up a table in the backyard and just sit out there for hours?"

Laughing, Dawn said, "And Spike would complain we were trying to kill him because the sun would be rising soon."

She shook her head. "In college. When I'd come home for break. Before we sold Mom's house and Buffy moved to L.A."

Leaning back against Riley's shoulder, Buffy closed her eyes as his arms went around her. If she'd known growing up was this good, she would have done it a lot sooner. She ran her hand down Riley's arm and found his hand. Lacing her fingers through his, she murmured, "Not a bad thing. Definitely not a bad thing."

Right about then, the lights went on in the living room, and a girl's plaintive voice called, "Dad?" from just inside the screen door.

Xander sighed and stretched his arms. To Riley, he said, "That was mine wasn't it?"

"Movie must be over." Xander stood up. "We should probably get them to bed. Buffy - where are we sleeping?"

"You guys get the two guest rooms off the kitchen." Willow got to her feet and tucked her hand into Xander's arm. "Let me just get my stuff out of there."

Anya got up, too, asking, "Where will you go?" She began gathering dishes from the table.

"Buffy's room. We're having a slumber party - just like old times," Willow said, her voice fading as the three of them walked into the house.

Dawn prodded Eddie to stand up and used his outstretched hand to pull herself to her feet. "No." She put her hand out to stop Buffy and Riley from standing up. "You guys stay. We can take care of this."

Normally, Buffy would have completely disregarded that statement - it was her house, she shouldn't be hiding out in the dark while everyone else cleaned up and showed her guests to their rooms. But it was hitting her that Riley had to leave soon, and she found that she was having a much harder time with that than she'd thought she would.

It was just for the night. Not even for that many hours, really, given that he'd be back the next morning to help Xander out in the basement. Still, they hadn't been apart since the moment they'd left Quetico, and Buffy wasn't quite ready to say good-bye.

She turned over - carefully, this time - and snuggled against him, closing her eyes as his hand ran down the length of her back and he kissed the top of her head.

"You really have to go home?" she asked, even though she knew full well what the answer was. She played with the button on his shirt. "It's a big bed. Willow doesn't take up much extra room."

Willow, actually, had offered to sleep on the couch. Or at Graham and Sarah's. Or even back at Riley's. Buffy had declined the offer, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She was a big girl. She could make it through the night without him.

Could tell herself that he wasn't going to die on her again; not for a third time.

Well, o.k. - obviously he would die for a third and most likely permanent time. Everybody did eventually. It was just that Buffy was pretty certain it wouldn't be anytime soon. Not after what had happened the other night. That had been more than just a message - it had been a promise.

Not just of a clean slate, but of a future. A silent voice saying: this is my word; this is what I can give you. This is just the beginning - and, baby, it's gonna be beautiful.

So, then, why the industrial-strength cling? When, Buffy, did you turn into the biggest sap, ever?

Three minutes ago, apparently. She hugged him tightly and whispered, "I miss you already."

Tilting up her chin, Riley pulled her to him. His mouth closed over hers and she found herself inching up along his body, needing to feel his heart beat, needing to feel his warm skin.

She forced herself to remember that they were not alone in his room, that there was no license to do whatever she wanted as long as she did it quietly. That she was not allowed to tear his shirt off even though his hand was now running down her front in a slow, suggestive way not at all in line with the family-friendly nature of the evening.

Shifting, she let her knee press against him in a way that prompted him to gasp; shifted again - well, o.k., so maybe she added some hand action of her own - and got a groaned, "Buffy..."

His hand was suddenly clutching her hair. She could practically hear him clench his jaw as he pulled her head to his shoulder.

"You by any chance doing anything around three a.m.?" His voice was gravelly and kind of rushed. She probably wasn't helping any by leaving her hand exactly where it was. "I mean," he continued, "I'll probably be up. Maybe go for a drive. Maybe end up in your neighborhood."

"Maybe end up taking a walk down to the river?" She smiled broadly and let her tongue swirl around one of the scars on his neck. Hell, yes. "It's a date."

He grinned and nodded, pulling her back into a heated kiss, one she eagerly returned. Until, that is, there was a disgusted, "Dad!" She looked up to see Jack come to a sudden stop above them.

Buffy wasn't sure if she'd ever moved quite so quickly, pulling away fast enough that she may have generated actual wind. Not, of course, fast enough. She straightened out her shirt as she sat up.

Buffy could see the commander slip in to place as he sat up. That was the only possible explanation behind him being able to casually sit up, his legs going to either side of the lounge chair, without losing a shred of dignity. Despite having just been caught feeling up his girlfriend in front of his four kids. By his four kids.

Man, she was going to have to learn how he did that. The best she could do was just ease on down so she was perching on the end of the lounge chair, sitting on her hands, her feet flat on the ground. Miss I-Am-Not-Touching-Any-Part-Of-Your-Father.

Annie either didn't notice any of this or had just decided to completely ignore the exchange, pushing past Kate and saying, "Dad, do we really need to be here by eight tomorrow? Isn't that kind of early?"

"Eight? You guys are starting at eight? With power tools?" Buffy asked sharply, earning an eyebrows-raised look from Riley that obviously meant, Shut up. He was too polite to say it, of course. "I mean," - she put on her best encouraging face - "Great. I'm so glad Xander has you starting bright and early. Go, team."

After the blankest look ever, Riley turned back to Annie and innocently offered, "You know, if it's too early Xander and I can come get you guys on our way back from Home Depot."

Almost too innocently. because it took Buffy a few seconds to realize that Riley and Xander had absolutely no plans to go anywhere in the morning.

Riley glanced over at Buffy. He still didn't seem to believe that she had no problem with his kids learning the constructive arts, as Xander called it, on the walls of her basement - as in, on the foundation of her house. She figured - hey, if the house got condemned, she'd just go live at their place. She was sure Kate wouldn't mind. "Um, yeah," she said, answering his unasked question. "No worries."

"O.k., then." Riley looked up at the kids. "I promise - no demolition until all parties are present."

That seemed to placate them. They turned to go back into the house, only to stop when Riley called out, "Sure, Dad - we'd be happy to help clear the table. We'll even wash the dishes before we leave."

There were several groans and a fair amount of eye rolling, but they turned around and came back to the table, loading their arms with the remaining dishes. Jack even smiled at Buffy and said, "Dinner was awesome. My dad is so wrong about you not being able to cook."

Excuse me? Buffy reached out and whacked Riley's knee. "Did you take out a newspaper ad?"

He grabbed her hand. "That she doesn't cook," Riley corrected loudly as the kids walked towards the house. "Not can't - doesn't."

Annie pushed Jack forward, her voice fading as she got further away. "You shouldn't say things like that. Especially on their anniversary."

"Um, hey..." He let go of her hand, pretending that he wasn't in any trouble whatsoever. "Happy anniversary. You know, give or take a day."

"Technically, it's our monthiversary." For lack of anything better to do, she whacked his knee again.

Trying not to smile, she said, "There's no doubt in my mind that you have a good explanation for totally dissing my culinary skills." She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is."

He obviously realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere without a proper response. After rolling his eyes, he launched into, "There I am - minding my own business and holding up my end of the couch - when Jack asks me what we're doing for dinner. I tell him that - as we speak - you're in the kitchen cooking."

Riley leaned forward and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards him. "'Buffy's cooking, Daddy?' 'Sure is,' I tell him. 'Buffy can cook, Daddy?' 'I'm sure she can,' I answer." He put his arms around her and played with her hair as he spoke. "Then Xander helps out by saying, 'She sure can, Ri. Didn't you ever-'?"

"You sure now?" His hand crept up under her shirt, his thumb edging under the elastic of her bra. "Wouldn't want you to think-"

She closed her eyes as he kissed his way up her neck, past her jaw. Right up to her mouth, where he stopped suddenly and pulled back.

"What?" She ran her tongue along her lips, noticing that he was close enough for her lick his lips as well. Yummy.

He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head down, almost kissing her. "When you spend your first, uh, monthiversary traveling to an alternate dimension and back; and while you were there you hung out with a mystical warrior princess, a woman who's been dead for eight years and, very possibly, God..."

"Mmmm..." Reaching her hands up to his face, she ran them up through his hair. "I'm listening."

"I don't know..." She drew him back down, having only one thing left to say before they got on with the kissing. "But I bet it will be good."