Author: Alexandra Huxley
Email: alexandrahuxley@yahoo.com
Notes: Thanks to Cynthia and Moe for beta-ing, everyone who asked for a sequel to Fireworks, and Stacy, for that little extra boost...This story started out under a different title, "Fireworks," which won the 2002 Starcrossed Summer of Love June Challenge and Grand Prize. If you read that story, you've already read sections 1-4 (with a few slight changes), but stay tuned - there's more on the way.

Riley came down the stairs and glanced into the living room as he went by - movie still playing, everyone still in their seats, thank God. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if Annie or Kate - or, God, Jack - had tried to find him in the last half hour. A little late to be worried about that, he chastised himself. That couldn't happen again. Not in the house. Not while the kids were home. What had he been thinking?

Nothing. He hadn't been thinking. Had never been able to where Buffy was concerned. Buffy - who was at this very moment upstairs in his bathroom blow-drying her hair. Riley shook his head in amazement. He still couldn't quite believe that she was here, much less alive. But alive she was, and so was he for the first time in years.

He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Not that he was actually hungry or thirsty, but he couldn't quite figure out what to do with himself in the ten or fifteen minutes before the movie was over. Check to make sure the clothes are dry, he thought as he straightened up. Excellent idea. He closed the door and turned, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw Dawn standing in the doorway.

"Hey there," she said, smiling. "What'd you do to my sister?"

"What?" he forced out, feeling the heat rise up his neck as he remembered in explicit detail what he had just done.

"My sister? Buffy?" Dawn asked, amused by his reaction. "You know - blonde hair. Kind of cute. Last I saw her, she said she was going to catch up with you instead of watching the movie."

"Oh. Right."

"So did you? Catch up?"

"Umm. Yeah... A lot of, um, catching up to do," he stammered, willing the blush to recede before Dawn noticed. Too late.

Dawn's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

"She's, uh, upstairs. Should be down any second." Idiot - should have just said in the bathroom. Wasn't even a lie. He turned back to the fridge and opened it. Anything to avoid Dawn's shrewd gaze. "You want something to drink?"

Dawn came up behind him and punched him on the arm. She was shaking her head. "You slept together, didn't you? You guys totally did it already."

"Uhh - Coke? Juice?" There was no way he was going to answer her. As if his bright red face hadn't already totally given him away.

"Geez, it's been how many years since you've seen each other? Did you even try and talk at all?"

She was smiling, so at least she wasn't pissed off about it. He didn't expect quite as good a reaction from everyone else. Not that he was planning to tell everyone else, but they'd find out sooner or later. Preferably later, especially in Graham's case.

"Of course," he said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

"Oh yeah?" Her smile turned evil. "Where's she work?"

"For Angel."

"How many kids does Xander have?"

"Two."

"What's Giles' son's name?"

"He has a daughter, not a son."

"What does Willow do?"

"Professor. In Chicago."

"Why'd Buffy move to Boston?"

"To be closer to you?"

Riley breathed a sigh of relief when Dawn nodded, satisfied with his answers. He hadn't been grilled like that in twenty years and was starting to feel some sympathy for Kate, who had gotten a grilling of her own not too long ago. From him. Damn, this sucked. He was going to have to figure out some ground rules otherwise he'd feel so guilty all the time that he couldn't discipline his own kids.

"Uh, Dawn - did you need something?" he asked. "Or were you just looking for Buffy?"

"Bathroom."

Riley led her into the hall and pointed to a door next to the laundry room. As he was pulling the clothes out of the dryer, he heard the living room doors open and a surge of noise as everyone trooped into the kitchen. He brought the laundry basket to the kitchen and put it on the table, thinking how odd it was to be standing here, watching them pick out their clothes, going through their normal everyday motions, when everything in his life had just changed.

"Dad - hello! Are you in there?"

Riley looked down to see Annie tugging his arm. "Huh? Yeah. Sorry."

"Can you give Charlie a ride home? He lives in Quincy."

One of the problems with private schools - kids came from all over the city and suburbs; driving them home could take a couple hours. Generally, though, Kate and Annie didn't come because it took so long. Usually Riley tried to talk them into it. Not tonight.

"We're just past Quincy," Jean said. "I can take him. Does anyone else need a ride?"

The next few minutes were spent figuring out who was driving whom where, Riley ending up with Beth, Dawn, Eddie, and Buffy, who had just slipped quietly into the room. Hair dry, cheeks only slightly flushed, and eyes sparkling brightly. Wearing yet another set of his clothes. She grinned at him and he only barely resisted the temptation to take her in his arms and start kissing her all over again. Ground rules, Finn: no sex in the house while the kids were home and no PDA. Those would be a good place to start.

Riley kissed Annie and Kate good night and made sure they'd get Josh set up in the guest room. Kate reminded Riley that he had promised to make them breakfast in the morning, which he had completely forgotten, along with the fact that they had no eggs, but he could pick those up after dropping everyone off.

"Hard to park around here, huh?" Buffy asked as they made their way through the narrow, crowded streets crammed with cars.

"There's a parking garage underneath the Common," Riley said. "No rent and no mortgage - means I can actually afford a couple monthly spots."

They emerged from an alley across from the expanse of green that was Boston Common. Jean stopped before crossing the street. "This is where we get off," she said. "I'm parked on the street." She held out her hand to Riley. "It was very nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing you again."

Before Riley had a chance to reply, Buffy said, "I'm so sorry we barged in on your evening. Thank you for being so understanding."

"Don't mention it," Jean answered. "It was nice to meet all of you," she said, including Dawn and Eddie in her smile. "Just so you know," she said to Riley, "I'm planning to avoid Sarah like the plague until you have a chance to talk to her. You know she'll be wanting a report first thing. C'mon, boys." With a wave and a grin, she turned and headed down the street flanked by Charlie and Ben.

Riley had forgotten about that part. Damn. So much for not telling Graham about Buffy.

"So, Riley," Dawn said, an amused smile on her face as she watched Buffy and Riley very deliberately walking about a foot apart so as not to touch each other. "I invited Annie and Kate and their friends sailing next week. I hope that's o.k. Eddie teaches sailing at one of the boat clubs and they let him use the boats whenever he wants."

"Sure," Riley said as they entered the garage and took the elevator down a couple levels. "If you don't mind dealing with them, they're all yours."

"Dawn doesn't mind," Buffy said proudly. "She's doing her dissertation on adolescent psychology. At Harvard. She loves hanging out with teenagers."

"Which car are we taking, Mr. Finn?" Beth asked as they approached Chevy Suburban parked next to a Volvo station wagon that looked tiny in comparison.

Riley hit a button on his key ring and the doors to the Volvo unlocked. He hated driving the Suburban through Boston's streets, although it did come in handy when he had to play chauffer for the kids and their friends.

By now the crowds and traffic from the fireworks had disappeared and it was under ten minutes before they pulled up to Dawn and Eddie's apartment in Cambridge. Before Dawn got out, she leaned forward and gave Buffy a quick kiss. "Call me tomorrow," she said emphatically, leaving no doubt in Buffy's mind that Dawn knew there was something to talk about. Not that the fact that Riley was around wasn't reason enough.

Dawn turned to Riley, "The girls have my number. Tell them to call me so we can set up next week." She started to slide out the door and then instead, leaned forward again and put her arms around Riley's neck and gave him a kiss, too. "I missed you," she whispered. Then, just for good measure, she punched him on the arm again before leaving the car.

As Riley pulled the car away, Buffy looked at him and smiled. "How'd she figure it out?" Buffy asked, mindful that Beth was sitting quietly in the backseat.

Riley shrugged and grinned. "Must have been the look on my face." In a lovely shade of red. "You up for a ride to Natick? Or would you rather I drop you off first?"

Buffy gave him a look. As if you have to ask, it clearly conveyed. "I don't mind the ride," she said, more for Beth's benefit. "Not that I have any idea where Natick is. Or where we are for that matter."

As they drove, Riley and Beth pointed out various landmarks to Buffy, Beth's commentary being more of the "That's where Mr. Finn got really mad at Annie and Kate when they were waving to the Harvard crew team" and "Josh's dad almost crashed his car into that guardrail" variety.

Buffy just nodded and tried not to laugh. She kept stealing glances at Riley, thinking how odd it was to see him dealing with all these kids as though he did it everyday - which, of course, he did, seeing as he was a father of four. Duh. So hard to believe and yet it fit him so well. She was glad he had found that - what she had never been able to give him. What she probably wouldn't have been able to give him, even if they had managed to stay together.

For so long, she hadn't even been sure that that was what she wanted - the house, the kids. The big, noisy family. It wasn't until much more recently - after too many long, hard years of introspection - that she had finally decided she would have liked that life. But she had also come to terms with how things had turned out, accepting the fact that she would never have a family of her own, and even coming to love her role as "Auntie B" to Xander's kids.

Yet every now and then she caught herself picturing a little girl who loved to sing and play and read "Goodnight, Moon." And there were glimpses of this little girl growing up - a toddler getting band-aids on her skinned knees, a second-grader dancing around a stage in her first recital, a teenager pouting to her father when he insisted on meeting her dates.

All dreams that had come true for Riley. He had read to and patched up and protected his little girls. Had raised this beautiful family. But he had shared it with Sam, not her. Well, not really Sam, either. He'd had to do most of it alone. And Sam had definitely gotten the short end of the stick. No one in this story got a happy ending.

Buffy sighed. She was making herself depressed and there was no reason for that. Especially tonight, when the world suddenly seemed full of possibilities. She let her hand drift across the seat towards Riley, knowing that with Beth in the car he wasn't going to do anything obvious but wanting to touch him again regardless.

Her eyes welled with unexpected tears when his hand took hold of hers. This couldn't really be happening, she thought. She couldn't really be sitting here with this man she had finally allowed herself to say goodbye to. He couldn't really be here. Couldn't be sitting here in this car holding her hand. But he was, and she sat there staring out the window, squeezing his hand every once in a while to make sure that he was real.

Fifteen minutes later, Riley stopped the car in front of a yellow house. Beth thanked him for the ride and got out, waving as she reached the front door and walked in.

"Nice neighborhood," Buffy said, almost at a loss for words now that they were alone again. At least now she could hold his hand without worrying about Beth seeing them.

"Yeah - not bad," he said, pulling away from the house. He turned down another street and parked under a tree.

"Why did we stop?" Buffy asked looking around. "Who lives here?"

Riley unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Buffy, his hand brushing her hair off her face. "Nobody I know, which is why I can do this." He pulled Buffy to him and leaned down to kiss her.

"Oh," she breathed, deepening the kiss and releasing her own seatbelt. She sighed as his mouth moved down her neck and his hands moved up under her shirt. He had just unclasped her bra when they were startled by someone tapping on Buffy's window.

"Do your parents know what you're-" The policeman's voice cut off as their heads came up and he realized that he wasn't talking to two kids but instead people who had a good ten years on him. Well, the guy did at least.

Riley stifled his laughter as Buffy said, "We are so sorry, Officer. I promise it will never happen again." Then she did that thing with her hair and eyes that had always been guaranteed to give Riley a hard-on. He figured he wasn't the only one when the policeman shifted uncomfortably and tried not to stare as Buffy leaned forward and very obviously refastened her bra.

"Uhh, that's o.k.," the policeman stammered. "You folks have a nice night."

"Oh, we will," Buffy said, her intentions more than clear to both Riley and the policeman. "Thank you," she added, as she settled back into her seat and fastened her seatbelt, smiling wickedly at the policeman as he walked back to his car. The smile turned to laughter as the police car drove away.

"Maybe we should get out of here," she said. "Wouldn't want to have to make him come back," she said, resting her hand on Riley's thigh, "would we?"

"Um, no. That would be a bad idea." Riley grabbed her hand and placed it on the seat between them. Driving off the side of the road would be a worse idea. No, Jack, Daddy didn't swerve to avoid a deer, he was getting a hand job. He started up the car and pulled back out onto the street.

"So what else do you want to do tonight?" she asked with a completely innocent look on her face.

"Well, I have to buy eggs for breakfast tomorrow morning," Riley said, avoiding the obvious answer. "Kate wants her French toast."

"O.k.," Buffy replied. "There's an all night grocery near my house. We can stop there - I need some stuff, too. But I hope you know how to get back to Brighton, because I still have no idea where we are."

"No problem," he said. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her: what had she been doing for all these years? How many apocalypses had she averted? What had happened with Spike? With Angel, for that matter? Working together day in and day out - wasn't that what she had always wanted? A life with Angel? So how was it she was here with him?

No. Better to start with the small stuff. "So tell me more about what Dawn's doing. How did she end up studying teenagers?"

Buffy shrugged. "I think she's been trying to figure out what those monks were thinking ever since she found out how she was created."

"Created? By monks?" Riley asked weakly. Should have known - with Buffy, nothing ever fell into the "small stuff" category.

Buffy bit back her retort when she realized he wasn't kidding. "How much time do we have?"

Just enough, as it turned out after Riley missed the exit to Brighton, which had suddenly appeared in the rear view mirror as Buffy got to the part about jumping off the tower.

"Heaven?" he muttered. Taking the next exit and working his way back.

"Later," Buffy promised as she began to recognize her surroundings and directed him to the store.

"It always surprises me how many people are out at this time of night," Buffy said once they stopped. The market was much more crowded than any retail outlet should be at one in the morning. "I like having all the college kids around, though. Good energy. I'll meet you back at the counter." She headed down one of the aisles.

By the time Riley got back with two cartons of eggs, she was waiting for him. "That was quick," he said.

"I knew what I wanted."

Riley looked down at what Buffy had thrown on the counter: red nail polish, a bottle of Windex, hair elastics, and two boxes of Trojans. Plus his two cartons of eggs. Good thing they were shopping near her house and not his - birth control news traveled fast among the old ladies in his neighborhood, one of whom always managed to be standing right behind you at the least opportune moments. His mother would have known before her morning coffee.

"We've got a sale on bandages this week," the cashier murmured as he began ringing everything up.

"They already know you?" Riley asked Buffy as he handed over some money. "I thought you said you didn't have to sla. go out every night."

"I said I didn't have to. Doesn't mean I don't do it when I'm bored."

As they left the store, Riley asked, "You see a lot of action around here?"

"You kidding? College town like this? They're everywhere - haven't you noticed?"

"I try not to. I have people for that."

"Aren't your people supposed to tell you things? Isn't that the point of having people in the first place?" she asked as she got into the car.

"Well, yeah, but Graham and I have a deal: he gets the reports from the city, I get the suburbs. We try to stay in denial about the things our kids might come into contact with any given day."

"Healthy. Take this right," she said after they left the parking lot.

They went up a steep hill and then back down the other side. Halfway down, Riley stopped and pulled over when Buffy pointed to her house.

"Are you coming?" she asked when she realized he hadn't made any move to get out of the car.

"Buffy," he said, not quite able to look her in the eye, "what happened tonight."

She sat back in the seat and angrily shook her head. "Don't you dare turn into some guy on me. If you're even thinking about giving me the brush off I will kick your ass so." Her voice trailed off as she realized he was grinning. "What?"

"Were you always that cute when you got mad?"

"Saying things like that is so not going to help. Oh," she said as he looked away. "Is this one of those times where you're about to say exactly what you're thinking?"

A ghost of a smile flashed across Riley's face before he said, "How is it possible that this is happening?" He spoke so quietly it was almost as though he was talking to himself, but he turned to her expecting a response.

"I. I don't know. But it is."

"Is it? Really? I play for keeps, Buffy. I'm not interested in some one night stand." His voice softened when he saw the look in her eyes. Not fear exactly, but wariness. "I'm not proposing or anything, but if we're going to do this, we're doing it for real."

"You think I don't understand that? Don't underestimate me, Riley, and don't patronize me. I'm not who I was then and I would hope you're not either. And believe me, I've thought about this more than you can possibly know."

"Thought about *this*? About us randomly running into each other in some drugstore in Boston? Since when do those Slayer skills let you predict fifteen years into the future?"

"Well, not this exactly, but you," she admitted. "And what happened to us. How we let so much get in the way. I always wondered what would have happened if we had met years later, older and wiser." She took his hand. "I guess now we have the chance to find out."

He looked down at their hands. He hadn't realized how loudly his heart was pounding. "Definitely older," he said, his smile back. "And much, much wiser."

"Good. Then you're not going to keep me waiting any longer."

"No ma'am." He started to pull his hand away so he could get out of the car, but stopped when she didn't let go.

"I never stopped loving you," Buffy said. "I was so angry, and it hurt so much, but I never stopped and I'm not about to now that I've found you again." She kissed his hand before releasing it and getting out of the car.

Riley watched for a few seconds as she crossed in front of the car. He reached in the backseat for the grocery bag and got out.

The house was clearly one of the oldest on the street, squeezed into a small plot of land between twin bungalows. Buffy's house was the only one of its kind - long and narrow; three rectangular blocks stacked on top of one another and topped off with a roof. It was built into the hill, submerged like a boat sitting on water, and at any moment Riley expected the garage door to lower and cars to start driving out as they would from a ferry.

The garage door was split in two, each oversized half opening up as a normal door would. The first floor was almost a full flight of stairs above the street, directly over the garage. Overgrown rose bushes grew up around the steps' railings, largely obscuring the front door. On the second floor, a deck ran the width of the house, its floor the roof of the screened porch below.

"Kind of weird looking, no?" Buffy asked. "I loved it the minute I saw it. Have to trim the roses, though. I only use the front door when Dawn's here - she has a thing about basements." She took out her keys and walked past the Mercedes convertible that was sitting in the driveway.

"Nice car," Riley said, as Buffy unlocked the garage door and pulled it open.

She glanced at it and smiled. "Angel's fault. He got tired of driving me around when I moved to L.A. He said if I got a nice enough car I'd have an incentive not to hit things. Might even start liking the whole driving thing."

"Interesting reasoning. Kind of expensive though."

"Yeah, but it worked." She smiled proudly. "Only three dents. Teensy ones." They walked through the garage and up the two steps into the basement. "This is going to be my training room," she said. "The garage is so narrow it's pretty much useless. We'll knock down the wall to the garage, raise the floor so it's all the same level, and make it into one big room. Xander's project for when he comes."

"How long exactly is Xander staying?"

"A couple of weeks, why?"

Riley just shook his head. Hell of a project to be done in two weeks. "Let me know if he needs any help." He followed Buffy up the stairs to the first floor.

"Pretty standard," she said. "Kitchen, dining room, living room and two bedrooms. Bathroom off the hall."

They wandered through the first floor as she talked. The house was bigger than it looked from the outside. The bedrooms were on the small side, but big enough for the basics. There were mostly empty boxes in the dining room; the living room had a couple of chairs and a TV, but not much else.

Buffy said, "I had some stuff shipped, but Xander and Anya are bringing the rest of the furniture from my mom's house so I'll finally have a couch and table and everything. This is good for now, though. I spend most of my time upstairs anyway," she said as she climbed the stairs. "My turn to show off," she said as Riley came up behind her and walked into the room.

The huge, airy room took up the entire length of the house and seemed open to the sky, due to the numerous skylights set into the ceiling. On one end was an antique bed with an intricately carved headboard that matched the armoire standing across from it. Next to the bed was an oversized armchair and ottoman. Clearly the relaxation part of the room; to the left was the working part - an old, wooden desk flanked by two file cabinets sat opposite a punching bag and a set of weights. Just beyond the desk were French doors leading to the deck that could be seen from the street.

Buffy had already opened the doors and walked outside. "My tree-house," Buffy said.

Between the slope of the hill and the height of the deck, the one-story ranch houses across the street seemed tiny and far away. Beyond the row of houses was another street further down the hill, all signs of further civilization hidden by tall trees, the tops of which were below the viewpoint from Buffy's deck. The rolling hills of a golf course lay in a small valley. Across the valley atop another hill were the stone buildings of Boston College.

"I'm always amazed that there's a golf course in the middle of Boston," Riley said, coming to stand next to her.

"You know this area?" Buffy asked with a little bit of surprise.

"Sam's parents live on the other side of B.C. And Kate and Annie go to school around here."

"Really," she said, smiling. For some reason it made her happy that Riley had spent time here. Not that his house was that far away, but it made him seem even closer. It comforted her.

"I think your view wins," he said, turning back to her.

"I don't know," she answered. "You get to see the river from your roof. But, yeah, this comes pretty close."

"Great house." He loved this neighborhood - grass and trees and houses that didn't actually touch each other. Would have loved to live here if he had had a choice. Not that he had many complaints about Beacon Hill, but it was a bit too city for his taste. The only living thing he saw when he looked out his windows was Mrs. Hunnewell in the house across the street. And she was well into her nineties, so even that would be gone pretty soon.

"The person I bought it from was a painter," Buffy said. "This room was her studio." She walked back inside and slid open a closet door, revealing a small refrigerator, sink and counter. "I never have to leave. Probably why downstairs doesn't look too homey. Dawn thinks it's a big waste of space, but to me it's perfect."

She had suddenly become very flustered and she wasn't sure why. This was Riley. And there had been no hesitation on either of their parts earlier, especially hers. But flustered she was, and possibly even obviously so, given that she was not only on the verge of babbling, but had taken the bag from Riley's hand and started to empty it, just to have something to do. She glanced over at him; he had followed her into the room and was now sitting in the chair next to the bed, laughter in his eyes as he watched her take the boxes of condoms out. She stared at them as if she couldn't quite remember how they had gotten there.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked.

"No."

There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes and in his voice, but he wasn't making any moves. And she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't going to unless she was clearly ready. She took a deep breath. "Long haul, right? Playing for keeps," she said as if reminding herself.

He nodded.

After a moment's hesitation, she tossed him the box she had been holding and smoothed back her hair. "O.k. I'm in."

Despite what she had said earlier in the car, he knew how hard it was for her to come to that decision. It was hard enough for him to make a commitment like that, even to Buffy; the impact this would have on his life - on his family - would be enormous. One of the other reasons he had never gotten into the dating thing: too many complications, the main one being what was best for the kids - would they understand that Sam would always be a part of his life? That no other woman could possibly invade the place he held for her in his heart?

Or that loving one woman didn't have to mean forgetting another? Not the easiest concept to grasp. And how could they possibly get that? God knows, it had taken him long enough to figure it out.

But he also wanted them to see that life went on, that the human heart had an infinite capacity for love. That things like joy and happiness and ecstasy and hope could still exist after heartbreaking sorrow. That love was what helped you get through the brutal days and nights that life handed to you - having someone to cradle your body when it hurt too much to breathe, to look into your eyes and tell you it was worth living through another day. To make you look right back until they were sure you agreed. And if you were lucky enough, to be your companion through forty years of crops failing or cars not starting or the damn furnace not making it through one more winter; through the catastrophes and drudgery of every day life.

What he wanted for his children. What he had given up for himself, not even sure if he was capable of falling in love again, much less whether he wanted to. He'd had two chances in love - screwed up the first one, bad luck on the second.

Then comes Buffy. Back in his life again, turning everything upside down. No need to worry if the love was there because it always had been. And although he had never been one to dwell on the what-if's, he couldn't deny that he had thought of her more often than not in recent years, now that the kids were old enough to not need his constant attention, now that his memories of Sam weren't enough to hold off the emptiness inside. Sarah's constant reminders had been hitting a little too close to home these days.

And although he was only starting to admit it, only starting to fight the voice -

Sam was still his wife, *damn it*, and always would be.

Only starting to admit it. But he wanted that forty years. He wanted what his parents had, what his brothers were working towards. He wanted that black hole to be filled with something other than loss.

As much as he loved his kids, with an intensity and fervor unlike anything he had ever known even possible, it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough. He wanted someone to share his life with. And for more times in the last few months than he cared to count, he had caught himself awake in the middle of the night, alone in his empty bed wondering if maybe there was someone else out there. It had just never occurred to him that that someone might be Buffy. Fate hadn't just come knocking, it had blown down the door.

Riley watched as Buffy crossed the room, coming to a stop and kneeling in front of him. He leaned back and closed his eyes as she feathered him with kisses, starting at his knee and working her way up, her hand lightly running up his other leg.

"Buffy." He reached down and pulled her up so that her body blanketed his. She nuzzled his neck and his whole body came alive, tingling with her touch. The sensations were overwhelming - the way she pressed her body against him, the way she was inching her knee up between his legs, the way her mouth felt on his skin. If this was what she could do to him fully clothed, then he didn't think he'd make it much longer. And that wouldn't do. That so wouldn't do.

He put his arms around her, cradling her as he stood up; laying her gently down on the bed. Fighting to stay in control as her wide eyes looked up into his and her mouth opened slightly to let him in. Leaning down, he kissed her, losing himself in her lips and tongue. Thankful for the billion push-ups he had done over the course of his lifetime, he held himself over her as her hands ran up underneath his shirt, skimming his chest, his back, his stomach and urging him to lower his body to hers.

That so wouldn't do.

He stood up and lifted his shirt over his head, watching as she sat up and leaned forward to kiss him. Her tongue ran along his skin, just above the waistband of his shorts while she reached around to pull him closer. Easing her back onto the bed, his hands traveled slowly from her shoulders to her waist, coming back up again and bringing her shirt with them. He smiled when he noticed her bra was still damp.

"Best I could do with the blow-dryer," she said with a smile and a shrug. "Underwear was a lost cause, though. Left those on the floor of your shower." His involuntary glance to her shorts made her laugh. "Don't expect such easy access all the time."

"Understood. I promise, I don't mind doing the legwork." He bent down, putting his mouth to the lacy material as he reached back to undo the clasp of her bra. She shifted so he could slip the straps off her arms, sighing as his tongue touched her skin and he worked his way up to her neck and then down past her navel.

He was kneeling now, and she felt him slowly pull her shorts off, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire as they moved down her hips. His breath was warm against her thigh and unlike earlier that night when they had been so aware of the clock ticking, he took his time getting to where she wanted him to be, so that when he finally touched his tongue to her, she almost came at that moment.

But she didn't, and he wouldn't let her - his intent seemed to be to drive her crazy as he brought her to the edge time and again, only to ease her back down. She tried begging; that didn't work. And nothing else she did brought any release - if she pushed against him, he backed away; if she pulled him to her, he stopped altogether, which was even worse.

"Riley," she gasped, finally unable to take anymore, "I can't."

She almost whimpered at the loss of contact as she tried to catch her breath. Her entire body tingling with anticipation, the breeze from the skylight above almost enough to send her soaring; she lay there motionless, wondering where he had gone, but not wanting to move. She had just started to sit up when she heard the cardboard box being opened and a foil packet being torn.

His body was suddenly covering hers, and she was completely at his mercy. His hands and mouth were everywhere at once. Her knee, her neck, her breast, her hip. She had moved from exhaustion to frenzy, arching her body to meet his touch, begging him to let her come, crying out when he finally entered her, and clinging to him as the waves of her climax washed over her.

Her muscles tightening around him, pulsing as she came... Her arms around him, hands clutching him, fingers digging into his back... Her hips thrusting into his as she cried out his name. The way she looked, eyes closed, face flushed... The way she tasted. The memories of how her body fit with his not even coming close to the reality. The agonizing half hour it took to get her to where it wasn't going to matter that the minute he was inside her he was going to come crashing. God.

He had forgotten how this felt, how she felt. He didn't think he had ever come so hard in his life. An explosion of color and light making everything else fade away until there was nothing else except her body beneath him. He fell against her, breathing heavily, feeling her chest rise and fall with his and thinking that this was about as good as it got.

She savored the way his arms felt around her, the heaviness of his body creating the perfect cocoon to protect her from the outside world. It had taken a long time for her to convince him that he couldn't hurt her; that his body offered her sanctuary. The one place she was free to be helpless and vulnerable. Protected. Despite how things had ended between them, in all these years there had never been another man she had trusted so completely. Too much danger with Angel; too much to question with Spike. And the other men were barely worth the energy to remember their names.

"I hate these things," Riley said as he finally got up to dispose of the condom.

Buffy pulled the sheet over her, lifting it for Riley when he came back to the bed. "Yeah," she said, "we'll have to do something about that."

He lay down beside her, smiling as she snuggled into him, her back to his chest. How had he lived so long without this?

His arms slipped around her and she fought against falling asleep, worried that she would wake up and find this had all been a figment of her imagination. "You're not going to be here when I wake up, are you?" she asked.

He brushed the hair off her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck. "Not unless you get up around 4:30."

She turned to face him. "You can stay that long? What about your kids?"

"My mom's there. As long as I'm home by the time they're awake."

"Which is at 4:30?"

"Not the kids, but my mom is still on farm time. She'll be up by sunrise."

Buffy leaned her head against his chest. "Are you going to tell her?"

"About you? I think she'll probably guess. She always had a way of figuring those things out. Made high school pure hell."

"What about your kids?"

That was a much harder question to answer. "I don't know. Maybe Dawn would have some insight; she probably knows more about it than I do."

Buffy groaned. "Maybe I will be up at 4:30 - I'm surprised she didn't call me the second she got home."

Riley smiled. "She hasn't changed much, has she?"

"The old Dawn is definitely in there, but she's a lot more fun to be around these days. Doesn't let me get away with much though."

"Maybe we should keep her away from my mother, then. Wouldn't want to come up against both of them at once."

"Yeah, that would pretty much suck," Buffy said. "Do you want to set the alarm?"

"I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight, so no, probably not necessary."

"Really?" she asked, suddenly wide awake. "What do you plan to be doing instead?"

"Didn't really have any plans," he said, grinning. "But if you've still got that whole endurance thing working for you, I could probably come up with an idea or two."

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, leaning forward to kiss him. "You're on."

Leaving her was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, despite the fact that this time it wasn't for good. Wasn't even for more than a day if he could help it, but he missed her the moment he closed the door behind him, fighting against the urge to turn around and walk back up those stairs and lose himself in everything that she offered.

He drove home along the river, watching the city wake up as the sky began to brighten. A new day dawning; the first day of the rest of his life. He parked the car in the garage and walked home in a daze. The last time his life had changed in an instant - hell, the last two times - it had been a nightmare. This time it was a dream.

The smell of coffee brewing hit him as soon as he opened the door. Damn. He knew that last time had been cutting it close, but, well, primal instincts had won the battle. If it hadn't been for the eggs, he would have chickened out and snuck up the stairs. May as well face it, though; better now than when the kids were up.

"Good morning, Mom," he said, walking into the kitchen.

She looked up from the newspaper, startled as he came in the room. "Riley Dylan Finn, what on earth are you doing up at this hour?"

He held up the bag in his hand as he walked over to the refrigerator. "I promised Kate I'd make breakfast. We needed eggs."

Looking at him over the edge of her glasses she said, "And you couldn't wait an hour to go get them?"

"Mom," he said, sitting down across the table from her, "can I talk to you about something?"

"Who was Thurman Munson?"

Nope. That wasn't it. "Catcher for the New York Yankees. Long time ago."

She picked up her pencil and filled in some squares of the crossword puzzle.

"Mom?"

"Riley," she said, looking him in the eye, "you're a grown man. Where you choose to spend the night is nobody's business but your own. If you love this woman and she loves you, then you just be grateful God brought her back to you, and you make sure you tell her that every day. Everything else will take care of itself."

He sat back in his chair. She never ceased to amaze him. "The kids."

"Do you plan to neglect your children?"

"Of course not."

"Those children have lived through something far worse than your falling in love. They've had you to themselves for a long time now; it would do them a bit of good to learn to share."

"You think I let them get away with too much," he said.

"My dear boy," she said, shaking her head and smiling, "I will not admit anything of the sort. I am so proud of you, of the way you've raised your children." She reached out to take his hand. "You're too hard on yourself. Allow yourself to be happy for a little while. Things will bring you down soon enough; no need to do it to yourself."

"I." He was at a loss for words. A scolding he had expected; acceptance, not so much.

"You're a good man. A good father. You may stumble a bit."

He looked down. Sex in the shower with Buffy as his kids were downstairs watching a movie with their friends? Definitely stumbling.

".But you'll figure it out," she continued. "Now go get some sleep."

Well, um, o.k. He stood up and leaned over, kissing her forehead. "Thanks, Mom. Wake me up if I'm not down by nine?"

She nodded, already focused on the next clue.

Buffy put the pillow over her head. Who the hell was calling in the middle of the night? Had they no decency? The answering machine started doing its thing, but whoever it was didn't leave a message.

She groaned when it rang again a few minutes later. Dawn. Only Dawn would be that insistent.

Buffy fumbled for the phone, knocking over the clock in the process. "Amazing, o.k.?" she said without waiting for a greeting. "The earth moved. Screaming was involved. He remembered all the right." She stopped talking when she realized Dawn hadn't uttered a sound. "Um, Dawn?"

"No," Angel said, a bit coldly.

"Oh," Buffy replied. "Angel." She was sure he could hear the blood rushing to her head; at least he couldn't see how red her face was. "I was going to."

"Late night?" he asked, cutting her off.

"Kind of," she mumbled.

"Did you get my messages?"

She looked over at the answering machine on the desk. It was blinking furiously.

"Dumb question," he said, answering before she had a chance. "If you had gotten my messages, you would have been on the conference call I just had with the new client. But, obviously, you weren't."

"Hey," Buffy said. "Easy, o.k.? It was a holiday. I took the day off. That is allowed isn't it?"

"Sorry," Angel finally said. "This client is a pain in the ass. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"No, you shouldn't. Especially when you wake me up to do it." She pushed the pillows up against the headboard and sat up, leaning back against them. Much better to be talking about Angel being snitty than about what she had been doing last night.

"It's 9:30."

She bent down to pick up the clock, seeing that it was, indeed, 9:30. A perfectly reasonable time for someone, especially someone who was currently serving as her boss, to call. "Oh."

"You met someone?" he asked. "That was a little quick, no?"

Damn it, damn it, damn it. She had been hoping to keep this to herself for a little while - she wanted to just enjoy it, not have to answer anyone's questions. And it was still awkward to talk about her love life, or usually lack thereof, to Angel, even though they had spent the last eight years coming to terms with where they stood in each other's lives.

"I ran into an old friend," she said.

"So I gathered. Spike?"

Buffy was amazed that he kept his voice neutral. Angel had not been at all happy when she and Spike had gotten together. He'd held his tongue when things disintegrated, but she knew he was glad to see Spike go. Only once, when she had really pushed him, did he offer any opinion, and all he had said then was that he had never trusted Spike, and he never would.

"No," she replied. "Riley." Angel didn't say anything for so long that she finally said, "You still there?"

"So he's alive after all, huh?"

"Don't even try to say 'I told you so'," she said.

"You remember that?"

"Of course," she said. You don't forget the second-worst year of your life no matter how hard you try. Or, as Xander had said at the time, the worst year of your life, take two - losing the people you love as they moved on, living their lives. An overwhelming sense of uselessness, wondering exactly how much longer you'd be required to be on this earth, marking time. The heavens claiming another good guy, far before his time.

Not that she had been able to articulate all that at the time; not that she had even been aware of it, or of how alone she felt, how desolate everything seemed. It was a gradual thing, a molehill that became a mountain while she wasn't looking.

It started with the house. A fight about the house, actually. When Dawn told Buffy that she wouldn't be coming home after school ended; that instead she was going to extend her junior year abroad through the summer, leaving no time for a visit home before classes started up again in the fall.

'But we were going to redo the backyard,' Buffy had said, recounting all her plans for flowers and trees and.

'*Listen* to you,' Dawn replied in disgust with a stridency that could only be managed by a college junior who had no concern in the world except whether or not she was going to sleep through her first class of the day. 'Why do you stay there? Don't you ever want to leave that place? You're living on borrowed time as it is - go see the world you keep saving. *Do* something with your life instead of saving Sunnydale High and fucking Spike.'

'Excuse me?!?!?' What life? I Slay therefore I am. 'I don't get to go away to college and travel the world and plan for a future. I get to pay your tuition and kill the damn demons and scrape by on whatever's left after paying the mortgage and.'

And, God, I sound like my mother. On the really bad days after the divorce.

'God,' Dawn had said. 'You sound like Mom used to. Maybe you're not fucking Spike enough.'

That remark would have been greeted with a smack if Dawn had been standing in front of Buffy instead of in a dorm room clear across the country. Even Dawn, through the haze of her haughty, righteous, almost-adulthood, had realized that she'd gone too far.

'So why don't we sell the house?' Dawn had asked, the tremor in her voice being the only thing that kept a still furious Buffy from slamming the phone down. 'Do you really think Mom would have wanted things to turn out this way?'

Whereas a moment before Buffy's head had been filled with a million nasty things she could be saying back to Dawn, she was suddenly speechless. Sinking down onto the stool, she had rested her head on the kitchen counter, as she thought of how many hours had been spent in this very room, cooking and laughing and fighting. Being a family. Dreaming about a life. Mourning too many losses.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the tears as the ghosts overtook her: Tara's happy face pancakes. Riley's grin as he leaned against the counter. Giles in an apron washing the dishes. And Mom. Mom's everything.

Sell the house? The one constant in her life? The only place in the universe where she belonged? Without it to anchor her, she would be lost. Adrift in the dark sea that was her life, the only beacon being the memories that this place held.

But that's all they were: memories. It was unlikely that Xander and Willow would ever again sit on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and bad Indian soap operas on the TV. Or that Giles would ever again bemoan the lack of proper reference materials while trying to explain a point.

Tara would never again glide down the stairs and Riley would never again bound up them. Angel wouldn't be waiting in her bedroom window when she got home from work and Dawn wouldn't be finding yet another place to hide her diary.

And Buffy would never, ever again come home to an old movie and a birthday cupcake. Would never, ever again be greeted by that one person who loved you no matter how mean or immature or rude or just plain stupid you were. Would never, ever again have a mom. No house could provide those things.

Ghosts and memories.

Time to move on.

Putting the house on the market had taken all the emotional energy that Buffy could spare and she hadn't been surprised that months went by without her laughing or smiling. Spending her days and nights working and slaying and packing up years' worth of stuff. Praying that the house wouldn't be sold before she could figure out where she'd go when she didn't have a home anymore.

Xander and Anya had offered her a room in their brand new house for as long as she needed.

'Right,' Spike said. 'I'd get a bleedin' stake through my heart before they'd ever let me in.'

'I spend my nights in graveyards, Spike,' Buffy had replied to the unasked question. 'I don't want to live in one.'

'Probably gonna die in one. May as well get comfortable.'

'Human, remember? A crypt is a place you go *after* you die.'

'Or when you want to shag someone who's already dead.'

Years, maybe even months, earlier, that comment would have come by way of a sultry voice, murmured into the hollow of her neck while his tongue darted out and his teeth pulled her in. Knees weakening, she would have collapsed into his arms and let him take her however and wherever he felt like going.

But now, amidst half-packed boxes, with a 'for sale' sign on the lawn, it was just muttered with a derisive snort and a cigarette flung to the ground as he walked out the front door. 'You know where I'll be,' he said, not even bothering to give her a glance as he left.

Reliving Mom's death? Check. Angry boyfriend slamming the front door as he leaves? Check.

The year continued along those lines. Not wanting to live in the house a single minute more after making the decision to sell, she split her time between Spike's crypt and Xander's place. (Nightly walk of shame? Check. Xander and Anya clawing and pawing each other constantly? Check.)

Being thrilled for Willow when she defended her dissertation on the parallels between Christianity, Judaism, witchcraft and native traditions. And, a couple months later, trying to be thrilled when the newest Dr. Rosenberg landed the job in Chicago, the only university willing to let her be part of the departments of history, religion, sociology, anthropology, and psychology simultaneously. (But absolutely not computer science, according to the department chair. Maybe she could teach a night course for them once a semester. If she proved herself first.)

With Willow gone, and no hope of Dawn returning for the summer, Buffy got more and more lonely, and more and more irritated with the constant snide remarks flying between Spike and Xander. Or directed at one by the other, often to her.

Enough, she finally decided. Good-bye Sunnydale, hello L.A.

'Yes, Spike. With Angel.' And in response to Spike's outburst, an exaggeratedly slow, 'It's a hotel. With lots of rooms. And other people living there.'

Not that she had intended to live there. Just to spend a week. Away from the sniping. Away from the slaying.

Away from Xander and Anya, so in love with each other again, surviving their own year of hell and coming out stronger. Away from Spike, who had loved her for years. Who had helped her get through the worst year of her life (and death), Part One, but who this time around, didn't quite have the patience or the right words to say.

Away, away, away.

One week in L.A. turned into two when she couldn't get out of bed on the day she was supposed to go home. Had basically stayed in the bed for the entire week, in fact. Changing into real clothes only because after four days her pajamas had started to smell even worse than the Doublemeat. Angel had pleaded with her that if she wasn't going to be good company, she should at least respect the fact that he had an excessively good sense of smell and could she please do a load of laundry.

After she put on a clean t-shirt (and then climbed right back into bed), Angel had started to come in and sit with her in the evenings. He rarely said anything. Two hundred and fifty plus years had taught him a lot of patience, which was serving him well since all she wanted to do was watch TV and drink Diet Coke.

During the day he sent the others, ostensibly to bring her meals, but she knew it was to check in on her. She had cried far too loudly at far too many tire commercials for him to feel comfortable with the state she was in.

Not that she was in a state, she had complained to Gunn, her favorite of the overseers since he had introduced her to the wonders of ESPN, a channel on which there was very little baggage - unlike the Home and Garden network that reminded her of the house that was on the market and the garden that was never redone; or, God forbid, Lifetime: Television for Women.

Good old ESPN. Lots of men pounding baseballs with bats; golf balls with clubs; and each other with fists, feet, humongous Sumo bellies, and a race car or two. Blood, guts, and eye candy - no baggage whatsoever.

'Please,' she said, exasperated with Angel after the sixth night in a row that he had asked her what was wrong. 'I'm fine. Totally fine. A little tired, maybe.' Not at all depressed or lost or lonely or without any sense of hope at all. And certainly not about to cry except in the presence of sappy television ads. 'Just needed a vacation.'

'Well, good,' he had said. 'Fine. Then that's what you'll get. Wake-up call is at nine.'

'Wake-up call for what?'

'You'll see. 'Night,' he said, as he turned out the light and closed the door behind him.

The wake-up "call" was actually Cordelia and Fred, bearing fresh squeezed orange juice and the company credit card that had been specifically provided by Angel for a day of fun. Two weeks of moping was more than enough.

And surprisingly, given that this was Cordelia and the Fred person who was nice but seemed just a little too cute for Buffy's taste, she truly did have fun. In the most ridiculous, girly-ish way possible - manicures and pedicures, highlights and a bit of a trim, high-powered shopping, and a three hour lunch complete with many brightly colored drinks, not nearly enough food, and four outrageously young up-and-coming Beautiful Men, who were still unjaded enough to beam with pride when the teenage girls at the next table asked for their autographs.

Maybe that was all she had needed, Buffy thought. A couple of weeks away from Sunnydale. A girls' day out. A day where she actually smiled more than she frowned. Laughed even. No hopelessness or despair, no-siree-Bob. Things were looking up. Maybe Brutal Year #2 was finally over.

Oh, Buffy. 'Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,' Dawn would have said. 'Weren't you the one who said not to ever tempt fate like that?'

But the words had been spoken. Thought, actually, but out there all the same.

Into the lobby they had walked, still a little drunk, laughing at the story Cordelia was telling. Showing off their hair and nails and purchases when the phone rang.

'For you,' Gunn had said, holding the phone out to Buffy.

'Where have you been?' Xander asked as soon as she said hello.

'Shopping,' she answered, thinking how lame that sounded. Lame and very girlish.

'For a week and a half?'

'No,' she had said, looking at Angel. Thankful that he had seen that she just couldn't deal with anything for a little while; annoyed because he had taken it upon himself to hold her calls. Old habits die hard. 'Why - is everything o.k.?'

'Hopefully,' Xander said, exasperated. He had been picking up her mail and had run into the realtor who, after calling three times a day for four days in a row, had finally just driven over. 'There's an offer on the house. Or at least there was. You need to call him, like, now.'

'Oh,' she had said, flashing on an image of the words "giddiness" and "happy" turning to dust as a stake ran through them. 'I mean.oh.'

'This is good, right?' he had asked, more perceptive than she would have thought given that his attention didn't seem entirely focused on the conversation at hand.

Good. Right. This is good, she tried to tell herself. Ghosts and memories - that's all they were. They live in my heart not the house. They'll stay with me no matter where I am.

'Hey,' Xander said, oblivious to the fact that she hadn't answered him. So maybe not really that perceptive. 'Why would you get something from the Army?'

'What?' she had asked, fighting not to cry - it's a bloody house, as Spike would say. Wood and glass, not skin and bone - no life there. Attempting to switch gears, she asked, 'The Army? For me?'

'It's in with the rest of your mail. Addressed to you. So, yeah, looks like.'

'Well, open it,' she said, the words out of her mouth before she could fully grasp the idea that this was probably not something she wanted Xander to be reading to her over the phone. Especially not while she was standing in the middle of a group of people very obviously trying not to eavesdrop on her conversation, yet rooted to their places because of this cosmic force that had suddenly taken over the room.

Brutal Year #2. Strike three, you're out.

Riley gone. Check.

She tried to open her mouth as she realized this couldn't possibly be something good. Wait, she wanted to scream. Please don't do this. Not now. Not when I need to say good-bye to my mom, to our home. Not when Dawn is all the way across the country and Willow halfway there. Not when Spike and I are so fragile that we can't say a word to each other without snapping.

Not when Xander, the only one who ever truly understood what happened that night, is two hours away and can't catch me before I fall. I can't do this right now. Not this, too. Please, God, don't-

'We regret to inform you that.'

Xander's voice trailed off, and she could hear a thunk as he sat down hard.

'Shit. Buffy,' was all he said after that.

Or all she heard. She couldn't really remember what happened after that. Didn't remember that Angel had somehow appeared by her side, taking the phone she wordlessly handed to him. Didn't remember walking to the stairs, jamming her hand against the counter as she passed and looking at her fragmented fingernail while saying, 'Oh. Darn,' in an oddly unaffected voice. Didn't remember getting to her room or climbing under the covers or turning on the TV.

Good old ESPN. Always coming through in the clutch.

What she did remember was the commercial ending and the - of all the stupid, fucking things to be on at this particular time was a stupid, fucking basketball game. The stupid, fucking L.A. Lakers who Riley used to make her watch because he said it was her local team and it was blasphemy that she didn't even know what color uniform they wore.

And she did remember dissolving into tears and being taken into Angel's arms and sobbing for the entire rest of the game which she wouldn't let him turn off even though she couldn't bear to look at it. And when the game was finally over, and her tears were finally subsiding, she made Angel tell her the rest of what the letter said, knowing that there's no way he would have let Xander off the phone without getting the full story.

'Missing in action. That's all they said,' he replied, deciding to leave out the 'presumed dead' part as a new round of tears came. 'Buffy - what we do. What he does.' Trying to find something, anything that would calm her down. 'Can you really trust people who don't even tell you this in person? Send it to you in a letter?'

Pulling away, her breaths ragged as she looked at him. 'What do you mean?' ('What.sniffle. do.hiccup.you.sniffle.mean?')

'I don't know,' he said, obviously telling the truth since he looked like he wished he hadn't said anything at all. 'I just don't think you can trust those guys.'

'No,' he said quickly, as her eyes widened and she started to say something, 'I don't mean Riley. I mean the Army. The government. Do you really think they know what they're talking about?'

'They knew to send me something. They wouldn't know that unless it was in a will or something. A next-of.'

'I thought you said he was married.'

'Oh.' Of course she wouldn't be next of kin. Idiot. 'Right.'

'Maybe he was sending you a message and that's the only way he could get it to you.'

She tried to smile. It was sweet of Angel to be trying so hard, but that didn't really make any sense. 'Because in this day and age there's no way he could let me know otherwise. Seeing as there's no such thing as phone or email or a letter that says 'had to go even more undercover' instead of 'we regret to inform you'.'

Angel had just shrugged. He sat back against the headboard and pulled her to him, cradling her. 'Look, all I know is that you were dead. And then you weren't. And maybe this isn't what it seems. Maybe some fuck-up sent the wrong letter. Or maybe there's some other Riley Finn. I don't know - just. I don't know.'

'Do you want to talk about him?' Angel asked a few minutes later, in a strangled voice.

'No,' Buffy answered, feeling Angel's body relax in relief. Thinking how odd that it should be Angel that was sitting here comforting her, especially considering that the last time they had even spoken of Riley had been in a scathing argument begun only moments after Buffy told Angel about Spike. An argument started when Buffy said that at least Spike had never just walked out on her, the way Angel had. That Angel only had himself to thank for this turn of events because if it weren't for him, Riley never would have left and she and Riley would have lived happily ever after.

Not that she really believed it was that simple, but at the time she had wanted to avoid all discussion about Spike. And even she had been surprised at the anger behind the words, anger so vehement that she and Angel had never spoken of it again. Because on some level, she did blame him. For leaving her so broken that she closed herself off, thinking that if she never spoke the words again, nothing would ever hurt quite so much. For the heartbreak that came when she discovered that wasn't true.

'I just.' She fought to control the tears that were clogging her throat as she tried to speak, feeling that she had to say it. Had to just once say it out loud. Even though if Riley truly were dead he wouldn't be able to hear it, because it didn't really work that way, as she knew from experience.

'I just wish.' She shook as another sob wracked her body and Angel held her tightly. 'I just wish I could have told him how much I loved him.' There, she thought, letting the tears flow freely again, having said what she needed to say. 'I hope he was able to understand that.'

Angel stayed with her that night, holding her until she fell into a restless sleep. And when she woke the next morning she knew there was no way she was going back to Sunnydale. The only thing that town held for her was a tether to the past. It was time to think about a future. Time to think about finishing college and finding a tolerable way to spend her days - something more along the lines of kicking ass than dealing with whiny teenagers.

And she had been so grateful that Angel was willing to let her live in his hotel, work for his agency, and generally just be totally dependent on him while she got her life back together again. His emotional support had been just as important, because it took her a while before she could actually get through a day without crying, but she still marked that morning as the moment she broke free. When she finally decided that she was going to *live* her life, rather than just try and stay alive.

And now, almost ten years later, sitting in her bed in the beautiful house she had bought with money she had earned in a job she loved, she was happy to say that it finally took. Not that there hadn't been sorrow and disappointment along the way, but she had managed to build a life she was proud of; one in which she was content. And maybe, with this incredible gift of having Riley back, maybe she might even get to be happy.

"Angel?" she asked, wondering if he had been as lost in thought as she was or if he was just humoring her.

"Is he still married?" Angel asked.

"Widowed."

He was quiet for a minute. "Is this what you want?"

"I think so. I really do."

"Then I'm happy for you."

And she really thought he was, even though she could hear the pain in his voice. Because no matter how much he wanted her to live a normal life, there was no denying that Riley's reappearance marked an ending to the deep bond they had shared for so many years.

"I wish you the best," he added.

"Thank you," she said, with sadness in her voice as well. "So tell me about this client."

Riley had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on the bedroom door.

"Dad!" Kate called. "Are you awake? We're hungry!"

"Ten minutes!" He shaved quickly, threw some clothes on and made his way downstairs.

"How long did they date?" he heard Annie ask his mom as he approached the kitchen.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" she replied, clearly relieved when she saw Riley walk through the door.

"Everyone hungry?" Riley asked, tousling Jack's hair as he walked to the fridge. He started to pull out the stuff for breakfast, wishing Dawn hadn't mentioned the college girlfriend part the night before. "French toast, right?"

They all nodded and watched as he worked. It had become very quiet.

"A little over a year," he finally said, answering the question that was still hanging in the air.

"Did you love her?" Annie asked. She had always been the forthright one.

He looked over at the table. Their eyes were glued to him - Annie's, Kate's, and Josh's. Jack was the only one not looking at him but instead at the Gameboy in his hands. Riley glanced at his mom; she was pulling dishes out of the cabinet. She smiled encouragingly.

"Yes, I did," Riley answered.

"Did you want to marry her?"

Annie again, apparently the spokesperson of the group. "We were still in school, then," he said. "It didn't really come up." Well, there was a non-answer if ever he saw one. Not a lie, but not entirely truth either. It seemed to satisfy the kids, though.

"But then you met Mom," Kate said. "And you married her instead."

"Right," he replied as he put slices of bread into the egg mixture, coming over to the table when he was finished. He sat down. "I fell in love with your mom and we got married and ended up here. With all of you. I got everything I had ever wanted."

"When Mom died, did you wish you had married Buffy instead?" Annie asked.

"When your mom died, the only thing I wished for was for her to come back." It was odd to be answering these questions. Usually they asked about Sam and what she was like, not about how it had affected him. Talking about Sam was so much easier.

"If you marry her now, can I call her Mom instead of Buffy?" Jack asked, his eyes still on his game. "Buffy's a kind of weird name." He looked up. "What?" he said, seeing the looks on his sisters' faces. "You guys got a mom, I never did."

Riley pulled Jack to him, fighting back tears. The heartbreaking part wasn't even what Jack said, it was the matter-of-factness with which he said it. "It's a little early for that. But if you don't want to call her Buffy, I think that's probably o.k."

"Are you going to marry her?" Kate asked quietly, looking down at her hands as they rested on the table.

Riley reached over to her. "A little early for that, too. We need to get to know each other again first."

"But you're not ruling it out." Kate's voice was more defiant now. "Do we get any say in this?"

He sat back, releasing her hand. Jack - very uncharacteristically - didn't take the opportunity to squirm away, but instead sat there with Riley's arm still around his shoulder. "Not much," Riley said.

"Is she coming to our game today?" Annie asked.

Riley looked at Annie in surprise. "I didn't ask her. Do you want me to?"

Annie shrugged. "Well, shouldn't we at least get to know her better?"

He looked at Kate.

"I thought we didn't have any say in this," Kate said, crossing her arms.

"You don't have any say in whether I'm going to see her or not. That doesn't mean you have to, though. Not for now at least."

"If people are getting a say around here, can I say I don't want to watch them play soccer?" Jack asked, eyes back on his game.

"Who said we wanted you to come?" Annie replied.

Riley stood up, his eyes still on Kate as he walked back to the stove and turned it on. After a few minutes of Annie and Jack bickering, Kate finally joined in, seemingly back to her normal self. That had actually gone better than he had expected, at least for the first go 'round.

"See? They didn't bite," his mom said quietly as she brought a plate over for the finished French toast pieces.

"Only minimal scratching," he said.

She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. Taking the now full plate to the table she said, "O.k. Everyone gets one to start with. More are on their way."

For the rest of breakfast, conversation revolved around soccer games and weekend plans. Charlie's name came up several times and Riley was glad that Jack gave Annie a fair amount of trouble for having a boyfriend since Riley didn't feel like he was in a position to do so at the moment. He chose to think of it as delegation rather than dereliction of duty.

He was alone in the kitchen washing dishes when Kate came back into the room. Annie stood behind her in the doorway. Riley shut off the water and leaned back against the counter.

"It's o.k. if you want to ask her to the game," Kate said, hands in her pockets, eyes on the floor. "Dawn was nice. Her sister can't be that bad."

"You sure, Katie?" He hadn't called her that since she was a little girl. Wasn't sure why it slipped out now.

Kate nodded. "It doesn't mean I want her at every game, though. O.k.?"

"Deal," he said. "You have anything to add?" he asked Annie.

She shook her head. "I liked her, Daddy. I don't mind if she's at the games."

Riley smiled. "O.k. then. I'll ask her if she can go." He moved back to the sink so he could finish washing up. "So what are you guys doing for the rest of the day?"

"Josh wants to buy sunglasses so Grandma said she'd take us to Newbury Street," Annie said. "Can I have some money? I need new sneakers."

"Grandma will take care of it. Tell her to put it on my tab." Riley said. "What time do you need to be at the game?"

"Three-thirty," Kate said.

He put the last of the dishes in the drainer. "I'll be home by three. Aunt Sarah invited us to dinner after the game so make sure you bring clean clothes to change into."

"Are you going to get in trouble for going in late and leaving early?" Annie asked.

"Nope - already took care of it," he said looking at his watch, "but I do have a meeting in twenty minutes, so I'd better get moving. Don't give Grandma too hard a time today." Kate still wouldn't look him the eye, but she let him give her a hug and a kiss. Annie walked him to the door.

"Don't worry about Kate, o.k., Daddy?"

He looked at her. Since when did Annie become the mature one in this family? "Are you just being nice so I won't hassle you about Charlie?"

Annie smiled and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Have fun at work," she said as she closed the door behind him.

He just made it to the meeting in time, sliding into his seat as Graham started talking.

"Ontario's provincial government is being a pain in the ass on this one. We'll need to do some politicking before we even get into the park."

An hour later, Graham dismissed the group. "O'Hara's. Twelve-thirty. Spread the word."

"Boxing day already?" Riley asked as they walked out. "Feels like Monday, not Wednesday."

Their team had a standing date on Wednesdays - anyone who wasn't traveling met up at a run-down gym in South Boston. Riley had found it back when Graham was in rehab and couldn't stand to train in the building's fitness center - too much of a reminder of what he couldn't do any more.

That had been Riley's excuse at least, but when it came down to it, the office's gym held too many memories of Sam. She had hated the office; he hadn't realized how much until it was too late. He was usually so busy running around setting up the Boston office that her always being at an offsite meeting, or hanging out in the medical wing with the doctors she had been training, or going out for a quick run hadn't seemed unusual to him.

Not until after her death had it hit him that it was a deliberate plan on her part to avoid sitting at a desk, and it finally occurred to him that the hours she spent in the gym were in part an escape from him. >From his view of what their life should have been like. It wasn't too hard to imagine her feet pounding down on the treadmill, taking her anger at him out on the machine - anger that had been simmering for months, maybe even years, not coming to a head until that last day before she left. He still hated that gym.

One of the janitors had told him about O'Hara's after catching Riley doing chin-ups on the icy fire escape, a few months after he returned to work following Sam's death. It was only a couple steps above a fire escape, the janitor had said, but at least they had heat in the winter. Riley had made his way there one night not too long after, fighting the temptation to just plunk himself down on a stool in one of the many bars South Boston was known for. As soon as he walked through O'Hara's door, he knew he'd be spending a lot of time there. If they let him.

It was one of those places where you had to prove yourself, and the first night he was there, the punks in the corner came on strong - pretty boy from downtown had no business in a place like this, and they challenged him to a fight, not mentioning the four-on-one part. Riley got a kick out of taking them down - after months of nothing but grief and guilt it felt good to have the fire back, if only for a little while. He had been sitting there, cocky as hell, ready to take on whoever came next when an old guy came up into the ring.

"You want a fight, kid? They ain't worth shit. You want to come back here again? You fight me."

Riley had laughed in the man's wrinkled, gnarled face. "I'm not going to fight you."

"Did you hear me say you had a choice?"

The old guy had swung a punch harder than anything Riley had felt in a long time. It sent him stumbling backwards, falling against the ropes, stunned. He had scrambled up, ducking in time to avoid the next blow and get in one of his own, only to pull his hand back in pain when it hit pure muscle. The guy fought dirty, and Riley found himself thinking that, with the exception of Buffy, he had never seen such strength and cunning combined in such an unlikely package.

Half an hour later, exhausted and bloody, the old guy finally held his hand up. He bent down, leaning his hands on his knees, and spit out some blood. When he came up, he said, "You can come back."

Riley, just as tired and beaten up, had stuck his hand out - the one that wasn't broken. "Riley Finn."

"You don't look Irish," the man had said. "Looks like we got ourselves a new punching bag," he yelled out for the sake of the crowd that had gathered around the ring. "Goes by the name of Riley Finn. Someone get this kid a drink." He shook Riley's hand. "Pete O'Hara. You're lucky you can fight, kid, because I really hate Army boys."

Riley didn't make it home that night; spent the night drinking and trading war stories with Pete and his friends. All retired, all Marines, and not one of them giving a damn about the fact that he was now a widower with four young kids and a best friend who sat staring out a hospital window all day every day, barely acknowledging his own family. It was the only place Riley could go to get away from the sympathetic looks and the heartfelt condolences; all well meant, but tiring just the same. When Graham was well enough, Riley brought him there, too.

It had taken a while for Graham to do anything more than sit there in that wheelchair, but Pete - with a gentleness and compassion that Riley didn't know existed in the old man - finally got him working out with the weights. Within a few months Graham was walking again, defying all predictions; six months later, he was taking hits in the ring from the street kids and retired boxers that populated the place.

As Riley and Graham got their lives back on track, they began to rebuild the team that had fallen apart after the crash. They chose their men carefully, running them by Pete before making any final decisions, and then later using the gym as a training ground, a place to hone skills against the scrappy Irish fighters. As time passed, their squad developed a reputation among the fighters, and Pete had a waiting list of guys who wanted to spar with them. For nearly six years now, Pete had been shutting down the gym for two hours on Wednesday afternoons - working class guys from Southie vs. the G-Men from downtown. No weapons allowed, but everything else was fair game.

Graham often said he owed his life to Riley, but Riley thought it was Pete who had saved them both. In those early years after the crash, it was the only thing that kept them going. Even now it was a haven from the things they dealt with on a daily basis: their teenage kids and demons - the second and third most baffling things in the world, the first, of course, being women. Which Graham was talking about right now.

"What did you just say?" Riley asked Graham as they walked down the hall towards their offices. He felt like he had been out of it for the last twelve hours, snippets of reality popping out through the haze, but most everything obscured by the memories Buffy's reappearance had stirred up.

"What is with you today?" Graham said, looking at Riley with a bit of concern. "You o.k.?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired - didn't sleep much last night." He knew this would be the logical time to tell Graham about Buffy, but he had to work himself up to it. They hadn't really spoken about her in years but Graham had been as harsh as ever last time her name had come up.

Graham said, "Sarah will kill me if I don't ask how things went with Jean."

"Jean was definitely my favorite of all the blind dates. Under different circumstances."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that. Told Sarah not to get her hopes up."

"You and Sarah have a nice time?" Riley laughed when he realized Graham was actually blushing.

"Very," Graham replied. "Thanks for having Josh stay over."

"Thank my mom. She's the one that does all the work."

"Your parents coming to dinner tonight?"

Riley shook his head. "Liam and my dad get in around eleven and Jack finagled an overnight at his friend's. I think my Mom's looking forward to the peace and quiet of an empty house for a few hours."

"Well, if she changes her mind. You know Sarah always cooks for twice as many people as there are."

"Graham!" One of the secretaries called to him as they walked by. "Ambassador Cain's on line one."

Graham made a face. Jessica Cain, the ambassador to Canada, was one of his least favorite people. "I'll take it in my office," he said. Turning back to Riley he asked, "Did you walk to work today?"

Riley nodded. The office was closer to his house than any parking spot he would get downtown.

Graham stopped at the door to his office. "Want a ride over to the gym?"

"Sure. Just come get me when you're ready," Riley said, heading to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. It took him forty minutes before he finally got to his office, thanks to the various people he ran into on the way. Graham was waiting for him, pacing. Not a good sign.

"What's this?" Riley asked, sitting down at his desk and picking up the papers that Graham had thrown down. A fax from Cain.

"Do you believe this shit?"

"Sit," Riley said. "You're driving me crazy."

Graham sat down across from Riley, tapping his fingers on the armrest as he talked. "I apparently pissed off the Minister of Natural Resources, and now they're saying that they need the Prime Minister *and* the President involved."

Riley scanned the fax while Graham was talking. It was a highly detailed list of conditions for the upcoming job. "No weapons?"

"No blasters, no tasers, no rifles. Nada. They've got hikers' bodies turning up left and right and we're supposed to go in there completely exposed. Plus they want to limit us to one recon team of five men, including their guide. You know how big Quetico is? The park is over a million acres of pure wilderness. And that's not including the American side, which is about the same."

"Do we even know where we're supposed to go? Did the maps come in yet?"

Graham shook his head. " 'In the mail,' according to Jessica."

Riley picked up his phone and hit the button connecting him to his assistant. "Wendy - do some research for me? I need any information you can find on two parks: Boundary Waters is in northern Minnesota. It connects up with Quetico on the border with Canada. I'm mostly looking for maps, but some basic fact sheets wouldn't hurt. There've got to be some websites out there, hiking clubs, newsletters, whatever. Just get me what you can by tomorrow morning."

"That would totally be like her not to send me stuff that's readily available," Graham mumbled, sitting back in his chair.

"Might just be easier to take a trip up there, you know. Try and smooth things over," Riley suggested. He wasn't surprised by Graham's look. Cain had made her interest in Graham very clear at one point; when he didn't return her affection, she made it her business to make any dealings he had with Canadian officials as difficult as possible.

Graham stood up and held out his hand for the fax. "Fuck. You know Sarah hates it when I have to go up there."

"I'll be your chaperone. I'll stick so close there won't even be a chance for an unauthorized handshake."

"You think she's a demon of some kind? That would make things so much easier."

"Sorry. Human," Riley said. "I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah," Graham said sighing. "O.k. I'll make the call and set it up for next week." He paused in the doorway. "Don't suppose you want to head over to Pete's a little early? I could use some extra time on the punching bag right about now."

Riley smiled as he shut down his computer. He'd take O'Hara's over the office any day. "Five minutes. I'll meet you downstairs."

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