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With the candles meticulously placed around the room and soft music wafting through the apartment, he was ready. Ready that was until he found that they were all out of the strawberry massage oil that Anya enjoyed so much. Deciding to make the short trip to Pete's Pleasure Palace in order to make the evening that much more njoyable, Xander set off.

He was just about to cross over to Avalon when he saw a familiar figure. Xander couldn't believe his eyes, there he was in front of the apartment where he and Xander had spent many an hour watching baseball and discussing the NBA finals. His tall frame was hunched over a little, and as Xander approached him, he could see he was struggling with a grocery bag and the door to his apartment.

"Riley?" Xander said as he saw his friend turn in surprise.

"Xander...uh..wh...hey." Riley started, looking clearly uncomfortable. He shifted the grocery bag a little before turning back to the door. Finally finding his keys, he began to unlock his apartment as he heard Xander strike up a conversation.

"So when did you get back?" Xander was overjoyed at seeing Riley alive and well and back in Sunnydale. He knew that Buffy worried about the young soldier and often would get a far off look in her eyes when the stress of not knowing would get to her.

"Um..last night. I'm only here for a couple days to pack up my stuff." Riley said as the door swung open. Riley was just crossing the threshold when he heard the words that made his blood run cold.

"That's great. I'll have to tell Buff, she'll be glad to know your back in..." Xander never got to finish. Riley spun around so quickly, grabbing him by the shirt and pushing him roughly against the wall, that Xander had little time to react. Grabbing at Riley's forearm, Xander desperately tried to relieve the bruising pressure on his chest as Riley leaned into him, Xander's body rubbing harshly against the rough brick behind him.

"You tell her nothing. Nothing. You got that. You didn't see me. I'm not here. You tell her anything and I'll..." Riley hissed through clenched teeth, leaving the threat in the air. Riley pushed him hard against the wall one last time, hoping to get the point across, before dropping a stunned Xander to the ground. Grabbing the discarded groceries, Riley stomped into the dark apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

Xander sat on the pavement, staring at the space Riley had just vacated, disbelief playing on his face. His chest burned where Riley's nails had dug into him through his shirt and was sure he was going to have a large bruise from Riley's fist. Rubbing his chest, Xander slowly got to his feet.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain brought on by the encounter. Riley Finn had been his friend, a good friend, but the man he had just encountered couldn't have been the same Riley Finn that he knew. Forgetting the massage oil, Xander turned back the way he had come, replaying the event in his mind.

The early Spring rains pounded the window, as a flash of lightening lit the night sky in a majestic glow. For most it was a welcome relief from the dry winter that had fallen upon the Californian town, for him it was a reminder of a nightmare that threatened to never relinquish its hold on him. Riley eased himself into the chair, having grabbed another six-pack from the fridge, fixing his eyes on the basketball game.

The images on the television screen did little for him, the only reason it was on was for the company. The announcer's voice was loud and clear, a welcome relief from the voices of the past that filled the silent nights. Gripping a fresh beer in his hand, Riley settled in for yet another night of drunken bliss.

He hadn't been completely honest with Xander before. Yeah, he was here to collect his things, but mostly, he couldn't bear to face his parents in this condition. He couldn't stand the look of worry he would find in his mother's eyes, nothing could escape her attention. Rather than be a burden to his family, he would bide his time, dealing with the thoughts and memories on his own. He would return to Iowa only when the soul behind the face he saw in the mirror wasn't this shadow of a man. When he wasn't haunted by all he had seen in the jungles of Belize.

Riley sat in silence, the alcohol casting everything in a haze, allowing the events of the day replay in his mind. He had noticed the grimace on Xander's face as he threw him into the wall. The guilt of the whole encounter had consumed him since he had entered the apartment. He just couldn't deal with her, not now, not like this. Clearing his thoughts of her, he took a swing of from the half empty can.

Even with the television blaring, the first of the voices would begin, whispering inside his head, scratching his nerves, gnawing at his mind. Grabbing the remote, Riley was quick to increase the volume until he could hear nothing but the game. Beyond the soft glow of the television, his mind would conjure up images, pale faces contrasting with the dark room around him. Faces, etched with pain and horror, faces all too familiar to the young commando.

Stumbling to the light switch near the door, Riley flood the room with the harsh light from the overhead bulb, effectively chasing away the images of friends long since dead and buried. Wandering through the apartment, Riley switched on every light available, hoping that will some how stay a repeat of the earlier images.

Settling back into the chair, Riley resumed his mindless activity, chugging down several beers, drowning his sorrows in the cool amber liquid, staring ahead, driving all thought from his head. Riley sat there long after the programming had ended and the picture was nothing but snow.

Shaking out of his stupor, he hoped he was drunk enough that he would make it through the night without waking. Pushing the empty cans from the comforter of his bed, Riley climbed under the warm blankets, praying that when the lights turned off sleep would take hold of him quickly. For once his prayers were answered.

Xander slammed the book down on the table, eliciting annoyed glances from the two Wiccans sitting opposite him. Huffing, he slumped down in a chair before angrily delving through its contents. His foul mood did not go unnoticed by his friends. Willow, Tara, and Giles had watched him stomp around the Magic Shop all morning, but had figured that he and Anya had just had a fight since the ex-demon also appeared to be on the grouchy side. Xander slammed his book shut once again, surprising Tara, who let out a nervous yelp.

"Uh, Xander, did the book do something to ya?" Willow asked, raising her eyebrows at his behavior. Xander just glared at her before picking up another book from the stack.

"He's upset with me." Anya said as she approached the group at the table, her arms full of even more books that Giles hoped would contain some information about Glory.

"What?" Xander asked, surprised by her statement.

"He's withholding sex from me." She stated matter-of-factly to the two witches.

"I'm not withholding sex." Hoping to defend himself, Xander stumbled over his words. "I uh, just..., uh, well, I wasn't in the mood." Receiving disbelieving looks from the three women, Xander knew they had caught his bluff. "Okay, I was a little sore. I had an accident, it's no big deal."

"An accident? What kind of accident?" Anya, protective of her man, began checking his body for damage. He had been so distant last night that she could barely get two words out of him. Their romantic evening was spoiled without even an explanation.

"Anya, hey, not in front of...ouch, that hurt." Xander hissed in pain as Anya came in contact with his sore chest.

"Xander, what happened?" Anya's concern touched him as he noticed the rest of the girls trying to look at his black and blue torso. "Are those finger nail scratches?"

"It's nothing, really. Let's not worry about it." Xander said, pulling away from Anya, he began re-buttoning his shirt, before returning to the book in front of him.

"Was it a demon?" Willow asked, perplexed by her friends evasiveness.

Coming in at the end of the conversation, Giles put down the shipment of eye of newt and joined the girls in their query. "Demon?"

Xander sighed, knowing the questioning would not stop until it was out in the open or he went insane. Choosing his sanity, Xander began his story of his recent Riley encounter, his bitterness over the encounter clearly evident in his voice. "He was seriously crazed, I don't think we should tell Buffy."

"Tell Buffy what?" Turning toward the training room, the gang found the young slayer entering the Magic Shop through the back entrance.

Xander, in attempt to cover, picked the first thing that popped into his head. "That, um, well, your hair, it just isn't looking its best today." Cringing, Xander ducked his head down, trying not to notice how Buffy's hand instinctively touched a curled lock. He knew he was risking life and limb, commenting on a topic considered taboo for his sex, but the only other option was honesty. And honesty also included the threat of losing his life and considering right now he had witnesses and faith that at least some of the people would come to his rescue if Buffy decided to kill him, he chose to lie.

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed before swatting her best friend on the arm. "He's joking, Buffy, your hair is fine." Looking toward the others for support, knowing she would receive it, Willow approached the blonde, who was now searching through her duffel bag for a mirror. "Buffy," Willow placed a hand on her arm, grabbing her attention. "It's Riley."

Buffy's eyes grew wide at the mention of her MIA boyfriend. Fearing the worst, Buffy dropped her bag, spilling its content's onto the floor, as her hand covered her trembling mouth. Fighting back tears, Buffy mumbled softly, "Oh God, Riley."

"No, Buffy, he's fine, well, sort of." Willow said, knowing right where Buffy's mind had gone. "In a crazed, homicidal way, he's fine."

"What?" Buffy looked at Willow, confusion furrowing her brow, before turning to the others for answers. Not getting anything but nervous shuffling, Buffy went into Slayer mode, taking a stance that spoke of confidence and authority. "Tell me."

Grabbing a box from the pile by the door, Riley moved to his desk, ignoring the pain in his leg as he had done for the last couple of days. Glancing at the items littering the top of the dresser, he quickly took inventory of what he would keep and what he would discard. Carefully placing the family portrait on the bottom of the empty box, he began filling it with the mementos he had gathered over the years during his life in Sunnydale. The stress ball that Forrest had given him shortly after hearing he had become a T.A., the pictures of his comrades from the early days of the Initiative, the baseball he had caught at a Padres game, all finding a home in his box.

Then there were the items that spoke of a year of lies and pain. The picture of him and Buffy, holding each other tight, grinning like the fools they were at the camera. The stuffed animal she had won for him at the carnival last summer. The ticket stubs from the Ice Capades. Those he left, untouched, to be discarded later with the rest of the junk.

As he moved to put the box on top of those already packed in the corner, his eye caught something gleaming in the corner. Bending over, he picked up the small coin nestled in his uniform. He had forgotten about it. The penny had been Graham's, and he'd claimed it was lucky. He had given it to Riley shortly after arriving in Belize, believing Riley could use it more than himself. Boy, had he been wrong. Closing his eyes, Riley could still hear the shouts of his friend filling his ears, not more then a whisper, but sounding like a freight train in his head. "Riley, come on, man. Move!"

Fighting back tears and memories, Riley flipped on the stereo, turning up the music, concentrating on the beat and lyrics. Wiping his eyes, he shoved the penny into the pocket of his jeans, saving the painful emotions that came with it for another time. Right now all he wanted to do was some good physical labor. Leave the therapy for later. As he began on the books scattered about the room, he heard a knock on the door. Groaning, he knew it could only be one person. Not wanting to deal with her right now, he chose to ignore it, instead focusing on the Psychology books before him.

She could hear the thumping of the music behind the closed door, but there was no answer, so trying again, she pounded a little harder, hoping to be heard over the loud music. Getting no response,she took a deep breath, before gripping the door knob. Surprised to find her access unbarred, Buffy entered the apartment, finding Riley bent over a pile of books. Taking time to appreciate his form, his muscled back, his tapered waist, his butt encased so perfectly in his jeans, Buffy jumped in surprise when he addressed her.

"What do you want?" Riley rose, but didn't turn. Reaching over, he flipped off the stereo, hoping to finish this as quickly as possible.

"I..uh...I heard you were back." Buffy said, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

"Yeah, for a couple days." Riley said, as he resumed packing the box.

"Oh. I just figured maybe we could talk. Things were left pretty..."

Riley turned around, crossing his arms, taking a defensive stance. "There's nothing to talk about. Please get out."

Buffy stood there for a moment, her mouth agape, disbelieving what she had heard. "Look I just think.."

"Get out!" Riley said, his teeth clenched, trying to fight down the anger he felt welling in him.

"Riley, please." Buffy noticed the muscles in his jaw working, indicating he was upset, but she really needed to talk to him, if not to discuss things, then to at least make sure he was all right.

Her voice just seemed to inflame him more as he crossed the room in three strides, grabbing her roughly by the arm. "Get OUT!" He hissed as he throw open the door, yanking her with him, and then shoving her through the doorway. Surprised, Buffy had little time to prepare for the outburst and stumbled when he let go of her arm. Losing her footing, Buffy went crashing to the ground, scraping her hands on the cement as she tried to brace herself. Her knees banged the ground, eliciting a gasp from her as pain shot up through her legs. Buffy turned, watching as Riley slammed the shut, effectively ending their conversation.

Rage and hate flowed through him, and all he saw was red. Walking over to his dresser, he tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths, closing his eyes to shut out the thoughts that flooded his mind. But opening them only brought him face to face with her again as she grinned back at him through the glass in the frame. Clasping the wooden frame tightly in his hand, he hucked it across the room, shattering the glass and splintering the wood against the opposite wall. Grabbing more of the reminders of her, he began throwing items left and right, shattering glass and ripping paper until nothing was left on the top of the dresser.

With nothing left to take his frustrations out on, he began pushing on the dresser, knocking it over. Snatching a chair, he hurled it into the bookcase, breaking the chair and shelves. Feeling the hot tears sting his eyes, he let them over take him. Slumping to the floor, the young soldier let the grief, pain, and anger wash over him. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he buried his head, his body shaking as tears flowed freely down his face.

Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up I cannot see
That there is not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now
- "One" by Metallica

Night had fallen by the time Buffy made her way through her neighborhood. Rubbing her arm, she could still feel a slight throbbing sensation where Riley had grabbed her. If she had been a normal girl, he would have bruised her. The hurt she felt at being brushed aside was nothing compared to the fear she had tasted gazing into Riley's eyes. There was something there, something that scared her. Anger, rage, and maybe somewhere in the back, buried by the ire, a hint of helplessness.

Pausing at the door that led to the kitchen of the Summers home, Buffy wiped away tears that had begun to form as she calmed her breathing. Joyce was starting to get back on track after the tumor and Buffy was trying desperately to make things as pleasant as possible, especially after all they had been through.

Entering the darkened kitchen, Buffy was relieved to find that both her mother and Dawn had gone to bed. Months of pretending things were all right had worn on the Slayer and she didn't know how much more she could take before she just broke down.

The stairs creaked slightly as she ascended to her room. Listening for any movement, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief after closing her bedroom door behind her. Crossing the room, Buffy sat down on her bed, her mind replaying the encounter with Riley. Her left hand snuck beneath the pillow, searching for the object she knew was there. Feeling the cool, heavy paper brush her fingertip, Buffy pulled the photo out from under the confines of her bedding. Running her finger over the picture of the smiling couple, Buffy once again realized all she may have lost.

Covering her mouth, Buffy allowed the tears that had been threatening to spill over to have their reign as a sob erupted from her chest. Curling into a ball on top of her comforter, she held the photo of Riley and herself close to her chest as she cried herself to sleep.

The air was heavy with smoke and ash as the jungle around him burned. Machine gun fire roared about him and just above that he could hear voices of fallen friends, creating a haunting melody of pain and anguish. Riley watched in horror as the demon foe trapped a fellow marine, igniting the young man in a blaze. The fire quickly consumed the unfortunate man, though that did not prevent his cries from piercing Riley's soul as he moved along the ground, trying to find cover.

The smell of charred flesh penetrated his senses as Riley watched helplessly as another man from his unit was disemboweled, his hands going instantly to his stomach as he tried to prevent his intestines from spilling from his gut. Luckily for the soldier, the demon showed mercy, using the long blade of a sword to cut cleanly through the soldier's neck, killing the young man instantly.

Over the smothering cries of the injured, dying men, Riley heard the shout of "abort." Gaining his footing once again, Riley joined the other men making a hasty retreat into the dense jungle. Peering back into the inferno that had been the demon's lair, Riley saw the remnants of the mission hanging from a sharpened pole. Graham's mouth hung agape, his one eye glazed over in death, the spear piercing the other as his head hung lifelessly from the bamboo.

The demons were hot on their trail as it became every man for himself. The swift demons overtook the retreating figures as the jungle erupted into a blood bath. To his left and right, Riley saw his comrades fall victim to the demon's wrath. Riley felt the world begin to spin as faces became nothing but a haze as the violence continued, single faces blurred into a multitude of visages, all screaming in agony as their lives were slowly and brutally taken from them.

The cries crescendoed to an unbearable pitch as Riley found himself backed against the trunk of a tree. Covering his ears, hoping to block out the pleas for help, Riley shut his eyes tightly, slowly lowering himself to the hard dirt below. Gently rocking himself, Riley felt the tears begin to form. A low keen was the only thing he could hear and as it continued to increase in pitch and volume, Riley realized he was the one screaming as he sat up in his bed, sweat soaking his clothes and sheets.

Balling the sheets in his fists, Riley tried to calm his erratic breathing, his body shaking from the chill that had settled on his skin. As the apparitions of the past faded into the shadows of the room, Riley took a deep breath, still smelling the phantom scent of scorched flesh. The tortured cries still rang in his ears, the taste of ash clogging his senses and as he closed his eyes he fought back a wave of nausea. Knowing he was going to lose this battle, Riley threw the sheets off as he dashed into the bathroom. Flipping the seat up, Riley fell to his knees as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain below.

Coughing as he drew a shaking arm across his mouth, Riley tried to regain composure over his body. Sliding a leg under himself, Riley leaned his head back against the door as his vision continued to swim. The nightmares had been getting consistently worse over the course of his stay in Sunnydale.

Swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the young soldier tried to push the haunting memories from his mind. Yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see them. Every face frozen in terror, etched forever on his mind. `Deep breaths' he told himself as he swallowed ragged gulps of air. Focusing his eyes on the tile floor, he counted the squares to keep his mind occupied.

Feeling his frazzled nerves begin to calm a little, Riley felt his muscles begin to relax. The throbbing in his head was dulled considerably by the pulsating injury in his leg. Glancing down at the wound, Riley noticed how dirty the bandage had become. Days, perhaps weeks had gone by since he had really taken a look at the wound.

Wrapping a fresh bandage around his leg after his morning showers had been all he had done to care for the deep scratch. He now found the wound throbbing in an insufferable way. Peeling back the gauze, Riley found angry, fiery skin below, moist with infection. Flinching, Riley recovered the battle wound, content to leave it for a while longer.

The nausea having abated, Riley slowly raised himself off the cool floor. Leaning heavily against the sink, he gazed at the young man in the mirror. Hair slick with sweat, face wan with fatigue, he barely recognized himself. The lack of food had taken its toll on his body, as had the massive amounts of alcohol he had consumed.

Opening the medicine cabinet, as much to drive the image away as anything, Riley found what he was looking for. Requisitioning the bottle of Tylenol, he stumbled out of the bathroom, using the walls as support. Scattering the empty cans and bottles that littered the floor of the apartment, Riley made his way to the small kitchen.

He cursed as he stepped on the broken glass of a picture frame that had been destroyed during his earlier tantrum. Bending, he picked a shard of glass out of his big toe, before entering the kitchen. Setting the bottle of Tylenol on the counter, Riley opened the refrigerator, looking for something to wash the pills down with.

A bottle of pickle chips and a box of baking soda the only items available, Riley cursed softly. The last of the beer had been consumed hours ago when he had sought the oblivion of drunken bliss. And now that he desired that numbness again, there were no means with which to reach it. Slamming the fridge door shut, Riley knew he wouldn't make it through this night without help.

Doing the only thing he could think of, Riley moved back into the main room and locating his pants, he slipped them on. Pulling his jacket on, he made his way to the door, making sure to grab his wallet on the way out. Stepping out into the cool night air, Riley wrapped his jacket around him as he headed down the sidewalk in search of a late night liquor store.

To be continued...