"Born Again"

Author: Samantha
Email: sammer77@aol.com

Riley sat at the bar, scanning each face around him closely, trying not to be too obvious about it. He was in search of someone-or something-familiar. He knew the face, though he had never seen it before. But he was positive that he would recognize it when, and if, he laid his eyes upon it.

He stared casually down at the glass in front of him, carelessly turning it between his hands, watching as the water puddle beneath it grew larger and larger. He looked calm on the outside, but inside, he was a completely different animal.

Wearily, he looked up, eyeing the bottles lined up behind the bar. He had tasted a glass of almost everything up there. And that was just tonight. He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there. The time seemed to move so quickly these days. Or perhaps it didn’t move at all. He wasn’t sure. But either way, time was no longer a friend of his.

Then he saw it. His own face staring back at him from between the bottles, haggard and worn. He was only 26 years old, but to any stranger he probably looked 40. That’s what life will do to you, he thought bitterly.

The bartender looked at him closely. There was something about this young man that was different from any other common drunk he saw on a nightly basis. He had a sadness behind his eyes that belied his outer calm. He had continued to serve the kid far beyond his usual serving limit. But each time, he watered the drink down more and more. The kid didn’t seem to notice as he put his lips to the glass and tilted his head back repeatedly. The bartender had been watching him all night. The kid had become a regular. But he always kept to himself, sitting at the end of the bar, not saying a word to anyone. He didn’t even ask for a drink anymore. He just sat down, nodded, and waited for the bartender to slide a glass in front of him. Then, he would get up, throw some money on the bar, and leave quietly. Lately, though, he had been coming in earlier and staying later. There was something that he was afraid of, but the bartender wasn’t quite sure what it was. He always seemed to be looking around cautiously, studying every face that came through the door, as if sooner or later, the one he was looking for would come in and rescue him from himself.

Riley noticed that the bartender kept staring at him. And he also noticed that his drinks were becoming more water than liquor each time a glass was set down in front of him. Oh well. He wasn’t there for the booze, although that was an added bonus. He could drown his sorrows and search for his salvation at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

Picking up the glass, he threw the rest of the liquid down his throat quickly and grimaced as it burned slowly to his stomach. He shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He had waited long enough for one night, he thought angrily. The bastard hadn’t come. Pushing himself off the stool, he gripped the edge of the bar tightly to steady himself, as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

The bartender watched him carefully, but didn’t move to help him. The kid obviously wanted no help from anyone, whether he needed it or not. So he just wiped down the counter silently as Riley threw a few bills on the bar. Another night, another dollar. Just to repeat the cycle tomorrow.

The crisp night air surrounded Riley as he stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the bar. As he looked around, he noticed that the street was almost empty. The few people wandering around either lived on the street or were working it. None of them interested him. Actually, nothing interested him anymore. But maybe if he were to finally see the face he had been searching for…maybe then, things would get interesting.

The quiet figure watched him from the shadows. Another night at the watering hole, he thought. That kid knows nothing about life. Nothing at all.

Casually, he followed Riley through the near-empty streets, knowing full well where he was headed next. The poor kid followed the same path every night. He could beat Riley there if he wanted to, instead of following behind and watching every excruciating movement. But that was his job. To follow behind, to stick closer to the kid than his own shadow.

Riley reached his next destination, stopping at the entrance, and staring into the darkness sadly. The same thing every night. He didn’t understand why he kept coming back. What use was it to sit in the darkness of the night when all he had to do was look inside himself for an even deeper blackness? But still, he set one foot in front of the other mindlessly, not needing to concentrate on where he was going. He had made the trip often enough…he could do it blindfolded.

The nighttime was the worst. He drank to drown his sorrows, only to bring them all back to the surface on the next leg of his journey. Every night, the same thing. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He walked the same path to the bar, sat on the same stool, took the same amount of steps here, followed the same trail to his present location, and stared at the same image he was staring at now. It was all so logical and yet so jumbled.

His eyes were fixed in front of him, unable to venture away in any other direction. He was transfixed on the image in his gaze, staring as though he did not want to forget a single detail, but knowing that a thousand years could never erase the mental picture he now held in his mind. He never wanted to forget, but he couldn’t bear to remember. He couldn’t stand to look, but he couldn’t pull himself away. The never-ending struggle inside his head clamored on painfully.

"Riley." A voice through the darkness.

Riley turned, startled, and searched the darkness for the source of the interruption. His eyes fell upon a tall, slender man standing half in the shadows, half in the faint moonlight. He could barely make out the face, but he knew that it was the one he had been waiting for. His salvation.

"W-Who are you?" he managed, squinting through the dim light to catch a clearer glimpse of the man’s face.

"They call me Nelson. But who I am is not important. What is important is what I have to tell you." He watched Riley closely. The kid was so lost, but even behind the hopelessness, there was a glimmer. The fire had not completely burned out. Yet. He had come just in time.

"I know you. I don’t know how I know you, but I do." Riley took a step closer, his breathing shallow.

Nelson smiled slightly. "I seem to have that effect on people. You’ve been expecting me?" He wasn’t surprised.

Riley nodded slightly, unable to take his eyes from the familiar stranger’s face. "You’re going to save me," he whispered.

Nelson laughed slightly. "Nope. That’s your job, kid. I am not in the life-saving business. I’m just here to deliver a message."

"A message? From who?" Riley inquired curiously.

Nelson always hated that question. What did it matter? he asked himself. But mortals-they always need to know who, what, where, when, and why. He would never understand them. "From the folks who blessed you with your greatest gift a few short years ago, my friend."

Riley thought about that. His greatest gift? Then it dawned on him. "The Powers That Be."

"That’s the million dollar answer, kid. You’ve got it."

Riley looked over his shoulder briefly before he turned back to Nelson. "What do they want now? Haven’t they taken enough from me? What could they possibly want that I haven’t already lost?" he asked bitterly, starting to tremble.

But Nelson was unmoved. He had witnessed a lot of pain in his lifetime, had seen a lot of anguish first-hand. This kid’s sorrow was no different. "Look, don’t kill the messenger. I’m just doing my job." He stepped completely into the moonlight and closer to Riley.

Standing his ground, Riley felt his heart start to pound. "Just tell me and get it over with. I’m not in the mood for riddles."

Nelson shook his head slowly, methodically. "Good things come to those who wait, my friend." He grinned slightly at the cliché, enjoying its effect on Riley. Being a messenger was dull enough. He had to get his kicks somewhere. He walked past Riley and stood behind him, causing Riley to turn and look at him impatiently.

"What the hell do they want from me?" Riley asked again, becoming agitated. He caught a glimpse of what he had come here to see in the first place; the image silently mocking him from behind the not-so-benevolent stranger. A lump rose in his throat.

Nelson watched the kid as he retreated back into himself, hiding behind the thousand walls he had constructed around his soul. The anger of a few seconds before drifted away like so many leaves from a frost-covered tree and the kid was left standing there, staring into the emptiness of his own heart.

"I think you know why I’m here, Riley." Nelson’s voice had lost its mocking edge. "You tell me."

Riley tore his eyes away from the cold image long enough to focus them on Nelson’s face. He was silent for a few moments before slowly beginning to shake his head. "I don’t understand."

"Think, Riley. What did the Powers give you?" Nelson needed Riley to see it himself. Telling him outright would bring him no benefit.

Riley blinked as he thought back, fighting the booze and the layers of pain to remember. His voice shook slightly as he spoke. "Emma."

"Exactly." Nelson watched as the light began to come on behind Riley’s sad eyes. "The Powers want to give you that again."

Confusion washed over Riley’s face as he looked into Nelson’s eyes, which revealed nothing. "What are you talking about?" He averted his eyes from Nelson’s again, only to have them land on something that he had momentarily forgotten; the very thing that had drawn him to this place every night for the last six months. And as he realized what Nelson was saying, tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Emma? They want to give Emma back to me?" He looked frantically from Nelson to the headstone behind him. The one that marked his daughter’s grave. Not long ago-although it felt like two lifetimes-he had lost her. He had lost them both. And ironically, it was in a car accident. After everything that Buffy had fought through, had battled against in her lifetime-to die in such a common manner seemed so unfathomable. A variety of strange and unusual fates had awaited her in her line of work. Something as simple as a car accident could never take her life.

But that was exactly what had happened. Buffy had finally learned how to drive with Riley’s instruction. It had taken her three tries, but she had finally passed the driving test. The first few days after she had gotten her license, she wanted to drive everywhere. She even went so far as to use the car to go get the mail. Riley had laughed and teased her incessantly, but Buffy hadn’t minded.

The fateful day came six months ago. Buffy had driven enough to feel comfortable about driving with Emma in the car. Before, she would always make Riley drive with Emma. But she had needed to go grocery shopping and Riley had been at work. So she decided to go to the store and brought Emma along.

Riley remembered the message waiting for him when he got home. The words on the machine rang through his mind now like it had happened yesterday. He rubbed his eyes roughly. He didn’t look at Nelson. He kept his eyes on the two headstones behind him. The only things remaining of his family. Buffy had spent half her life in cemeteries. Now she was stuck in one for eternity. Riley shuddered at the thought. He fell to his knees in front of his daughter’s grave.

Nelson watched Riley’s painful display, uninterested. Mortals-they were so complicated. He stepped closer to Riley and laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly. "No, you misunderstand me. Emma is not coming back. A life that is taken cannot be returned."

Riley didn’t seem to hear him as he looked through his tears and the clouded haze at the two headstones glowing in the moonlight. Two headstones with his name on them, but neither was for him. And both were for him. For all intents and purposes, his life was over. All that remained was the shell of a once vital man.

Shaking his head sadly, reliving the loss, he stared at the ground and let out his breath in a soft hiss. Breathing seemed to be such a chore these days, but something that he couldn’t stop. Even the simple things seemed impossible to do.

"Go away," he muttered to the tall, dark figure hovering over him. He was intruding on sacred ground, treading too heavily on consecrated terrain. He didn’t look up, but instead traced the outline of the name "FINN" on his daughter’s headstone with his finger. The marble was cold and damp under his skin and Riley wondered briefly if Emma was warm where she was. She had always been afraid of the dark and had hated being cold and Riley hoped it was warm and sunny where she was. A tear slipped down his cheek as he remembered his daughter’s words. "I love you Daddy ‘cause you’re so warm."

Nelson seemed to read what Riley was thinking because he said out loud, "She’s fine, Riley. I promise you."

Riley turned his head up towards Nelson’s, his eyes wet with tears. "You’ve seen her?" he asked hopefully, suddenly needing reassurance that his little girl was alright.

"She’s happy. She’s with her mother." Nelson’s voice was low and even, unemotional.

Getting to his feet, Riley grasped Nelson’s arms tightly in his hands and looked into his eyes. "Buffy? She’s with Buffy? How are they? Are they okay?" Riley’s mind was racing with a million and one questions.

But before he had a chance to ask any more of them, Nelson spoke up. "I told you, they’re fine." He shook Riley’s hands off and stepped back. "But that’s not why I’m here."

Riley stared at the messenger wide-eyed. "Can’t you just…give me something? Anything? I just need to know…can they see me?" He was grasping for anything that could serve as a lifeline, something that could help pull him out of the abyss that he sunk deeper into every day.

Nelson sighed loudly, his impatience starting to show. "Yes, they can see you. The PTB can see you. I can see you. Everyone can see you, Riley. You’re not freaking invisible." He took a deep breath. He was getting nowhere. "Look, I have been following you for weeks. Watching your every move. And frankly, your life stinks. Which is understandable, if you look at it from your perspective. Beautiful wife and daughter-gone in an instant. There’s nothing left for you. Your life is over." He looked at Riley, watching him as his eyes slowly grew more distant. He had to do something quick or he would lose him for good. "Or so you think."

Riley didn’t seem to hear Nelson’s last words. Or if he had, he didn’t seem to comprehend their meaning. But as they sank in, he raised his head slowly, looking Nelson squarely in the face. "What do you mean, ‘or so you think’?" He felt himself begin to tremble.

"That’s what I am here to tell you. You did not lose everything in the crash." Nelson watched silently as Riley processed his words. He wondered if the kid was too far gone to understand what he was trying to tell him.

"No, not everything," Riley whispered as he turned around and faced the headstones again. "Just the things that mattered." His empty stare focused on the cold marble tablets shimmering in the pale moonlight.

Nelson grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him. He got right into Riley’s face. "Look, kid. You’re not hearing me. Let me spell it out for you," he said gruffly. "The Powers spared your daughter and gave her to you over three years ago. They want to do the same thing again. They want to give you your kid, Riley. Your son."

Riley couldn’t breathe. Son? He didn’t have a son. "I…I…" he managed breathlessly.

Nelson, knowing that he would never be able to withstand this torrent of utter wordlessness, explained. "The PTB are always watching you. You and Buffy were two of their favorites. You two always fought the good fight, their fight. Their plans for you had only begun to be realized when tragedy struck. Accidental deaths are not in their bag of tricks. They mourned the loss as much as you did. Only, they mourned for three lives and not just two. Unbeknownst to all but them, Buffy carried another life with her. A son. Your son, Riley." Nelson let him go.

Riley just stood there, speechless, trying to put the pieces together. He stared blankly at Nelson. "Buffy was pregnant?" he asked, incredulously. He was astounded at first, but as the realization set in that he had lost not one, but two children, the grief overwhelmed him once again. "Oh God…oh God…" he whispered, shaking.

"Not was, Riley. Is. Buffy is pregnant." Nelson waited for Riley to understand, to comprehend what he was telling him. With everything that was going on, unforeseen and self-inflicted, the wheels in Riley’s mind were turning very slowly.

"Buffy is…pregnant? How is that possible?" Riley’s eyes were becoming clearer as the fog began to lift. He stepped closer to Nelson, staring at him attentively.

Nelson continued. "The PTB. They didn’t want to see one of their best fighters live out the rest of his life in the bottom of a bottle. And believe me, kid, that’s right where you were headed. So they found a loophole to make sure that didn’t happen." He smiled slightly.

"Loophole? What kind of loophole?" Suddenly, Riley seemed to understand what Nelson was trying to tell him. A moment passed between them as the puzzle pieces locked in place. "My son. I have a son." A spark lit up behind his eyes as he looked at Nelson with newfound hope.

"By George, I think the kid’s finally got it," Nelson said sarcastically. "Yes, Riley. You have a son. That is what I have been trying to tell you. They were unable to save the lives of your wife and daughter, but they were able to spare your son because his life had yet to begin when the others’ lives ended. A life that has yet to be lived cannot be taken away."

Riley stared into a pair of eyes that he thought he would never see again. Their green hue was even more distinct than he remembered. And as he stood speechless in front of his beloved wife, he felt the weight of the last six months melt away.

Nelson had taken him to see the PTB-the second part of his job. Having fulfilled his duties, Nelson had bid Riley farewell at the entrance. He was on to his next assignment. He wished Riley luck and left him standing alone at the invisible entrance, waiting impatiently, his mind racing, his heart a mixture of anticipation, nervousness, and fear. He had no idea what waited for him inside.

But here he stood now, every dream he had dreamt in the last six months coming true. He was with Buffy. He could see her, smell her, even touch her. Which he did suddenly, as he reached out and embraced his wife in his arms, burying his face in her hair.

"Oh, Buffy. I have missed you so much," he whispered through the lump in his throat.

Buffy held on to him tightly, not wanting to let him go. She had spent every day since the accident watching him. She watched helplessly as he gave up, as he drowned his life away. So many times she had wanted to reach out to him, to speak to him. Tell him that everything was alright with her and Emma, that they were safe and that they loved him. She couldn’t bear to see her once-strong and capable husband, the man she adored so deeply, wither away. But the PTB had told her that his time would come, that his sorrow would not last forever. Soon something wonderful would happen to make him want to live again. But they hadn’t told her what it was. She had to wait and find out for herself.

Which she had. She kept wondering why she had been brought here, to live among the PTB. Surely she hadn’t deserved to be bestowed such an honor. But she soon learned that it wasn’t her they were nurturing, nor was it Emma. It was the life that she carried inside her. A son, they had told her. She was having a son. That would be her gift to Riley. His salvation. And although Buffy was thrilled that she would have another child, that not only would he live, but he would help Riley learn to live again, she couldn’t help but mourn the fact that never again would she be able to walk the Earth with her husband. She would never again be able to hold him or talk to him.

Until now. Here he was, standing in front of her, barely recognizable. He looked so old, so tired. And if it weren’t for his eyes, she wouldn’t know for sure if it was really him. It felt good to be in his arms again, to feel his breath on her skin. But the pain of knowing that it couldn’t last was almost too much to bear. She pushed away from him, turning away, trying to hide her tears.

"I can’t stay, Riley. I won’t be here forever…" her voice trailed off sadly as she wiped at her eyes. She didn’t want Riley to see her like this. After so many months of being apart, she wanted to enjoy the moment for however long it lasted, not lament the fact that it wouldn’t last forever. She couldn’t go back; she had tried to accept that. But it was hard to take, knowing that this would be the last time they would be together.

Riley came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She turned under his hands, facing him, looking up into his eyes. She put a hand on his cheek. "I love you so much, Riley. Please know that. I will always love you." The tears fell down her cheek slowly and she closed her eyes. She rested her head on his chest like she had done a million times before. She needed to feel his heart beat beneath her cheek, to know that he was alive and strong.

"I know, Buffy. I love you, too. I never got a chance to tell you before…" But he didn’t have to finish. Buffy understood.

"That’s okay, Riley. I always knew." She stepped back, running her hands gently over her protruding belly. "We all did."

Riley held his breath as he surveyed his pregnant wife. He had forgotten, in all his happiness to see her, the reason he was brought here. His son. Their son. He fell to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face against their unborn child. Fear gripped him.

"Oh God, Buffy. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do." He squeezed his eyelids against the tears that were stinging his eyes.

Buffy ran her fingers through his hair gently, trying to soothe him despite her own sorrow. The tears had not let up on her end either, and as she spoke, she fought to keep her voice calm and fearless.

"Don’t be scared, Riley. Please don’t be scared. You were a wonderful father to Emma. You will be a wonderful father to our son. I promise."

Riley pushed away suddenly and stood up, looking around. "Emma. Where is she? Is she here? Can I see her?" He scanned the area repeatedly, searching for his daughter. He walked past Buffy, calling her name. "Emma? Emma?"

A tiny voice sounded from behind him. "Daddy?" Riley turned towards the voice. He saw the tiny girl that belonged to the tiny voice. His tiny girl. His Emma. A smile spread across his face as he kneeled down to scoop her up in his arms. "Oh, my baby. My girl. How’s my girl?" he asked against her ear.

Emma wrapped her little arms around his neck. Riley thought he had never felt a purer joy than the joy her embrace brought him. "Oh Daddy!" She wriggled away and looked into his face, her own suddenly solemn. "I’m okay, Daddy. Me and Mommy are okay." It was strange to him that his three-year-old daughter was the one comforting him after so many years of him providing her that service. She pointed to Buffy. "Mommy’s having a baby. Did you know that?" She smiled sweetly at him, like she was sharing her biggest secret.

Riley thought his heart would break at the innocence of her words. "Yes, honey. I know Mommy’s having a baby. That’s why I’m here."

Emma looked at him curiously. "You’re going to live with us? Here?" Her face was hopeful, her eyes bright. She grasped Riley’s hand tightly.

Riley couldn’t look at her any longer. He turned his face away, looking at Buffy helplessly.

Buffy answered for her husband, quickly walking over to them and taking her daughter’s hand. "No, sweetie. Daddy can’t stay with us." She was fighting back her tears.

Emma looked back and forth between her mother and father. She was trying to understand. "Why not?" she asked, looking up at her mother.

Buffy kneeled down until she was eye-level with her daughter. "Emma. Listen to me. You know I have a baby inside me, right? Your little brother?"

Emma nodded silently.

"Well," Buffy said, her voice shaking, "Daddy’s here to take him home. To take care of him."

Riley couldn’t listen to any more. It hurt too much to watch his daughter try to understand why he couldn’t stay with her. He stood up and took a few steps away, his back turned to them.

Buffy followed him with her eyes briefly before turning back to their daughter. "Do you understand?"

"But why can’t Daddy stay here? With us? I don’t want him to go, Mommy." Her big blue eyes pleaded with Buffy. Emma grasped Buffy’s hand tighter as she looked in the direction of her father.

Buffy started to cry softly. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She grabbed her daughter’s arms tightly, turning her so that Emma’s face was right in front of her own. "I don’t want him to go either, baby. But he has to. He can’t stay here. I told you that." She spoke slowly so that Emma could follow along. Her daughter just stared at her, her mouth slightly open.

Buffy bowed her head momentarily, trying to find the right words. How do you tell a three-year-old that she will never see her father again? How could she explain it to her daughter when she refused to understand it herself? She began to shake as her sobs intensified.

"It’s okay, Mommy," Emma said softly, smoothing Buffy’s hair gently. "It’s okay."

Riley had been trying to drown them out. He didn’t want to hear his daughter or his wife crying. But Emma’s words compelled him to listen. He turned around to face them, watching quietly as his daughter tried to calm her mother.

"We’ll be okay, Mommy. I understand. We are going away soon and Daddy can’t come with us. He has to take care of Michael." She looked at her mother closely, trying to make her feel better. Then she turned her face towards her father’s. "Right, Daddy? You have to take care of Michael."

Riley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His daughter seemed to understand the situation better than the rest of them. She knew. She understood. "Michael? Emma, who’s Michael?" Riley stepped closer, a questioning look on his face.

"The baby. That’s his name-Michael," Emma said matter-of-factly.

Buffy looked up. Her tears had stopped and she looked at her daughter in amazement. She wondered how Emma had come up with that name. They had never known anyone named Michael and Buffy was sure Emma had never heard that name before. But she didn’t question it. "Michael," Buffy repeated, whispering. She ran her hand absently over her unborn son. She looked at Riley.

He shrugged slightly, amazed as Buffy was at his daughter’s wisdom. She had barely been in the world long enough to forge her own path, but she was wise well beyond her years.

One of her hands was held in Riley’s, the other in Buffy’s. She studied her parents closely, happy that they were together. She had missed being with her dad. And even though she knew that he had to go away again, she was happy that he was with her now. She looked at her mother. "Michael’s coming soon, Mommy." She smiled.

Riley took his wife’s other hand in his and squeezed it, suddenly at peace. It had been an eternity since he was at such ease with himself. He grinned widely at his two girls. "I am so happy right now," he whispered wistfully.

Buffy squeezed his hand. It was an affectionate squeeze at first. But it gradually intensified in power as Buffy clung to him. "Riley!" She sunk to the floor, her eyes wide, her breathing ragged.

Panicking, Riley watched as his wife fell to the floor, holding her belly. He couldn’t think. What was he supposed to do?

"Riley…the baby," Buffy gasped. "He’s coming." Her forehead glistened with sweat and she tried to regulate her breathing. She could do this. She had done it before.

Think Riley, he thought to himself. You were there the first time. What did they do? He couldn’t remember. He had been a little preoccupied when Emma was born. He hadn’t exactly paid much attention to the actual process. He had been too busy praying that she wouldn’t be taken from them.

But there wasn’t much time to debate the issue. Michael was coming-quickly. He wasn’t going to wait until his father figured things out.

"Emma, honey. Go to Mommy. Hold her hand. Talk to her," Riley said to his daughter, letting go of her hand and pushing her gently in the direction of her mother.

Emma knelt down by Buffy’s head, resting it gently in her little lap. "You’re going to be okay, Mommy. I promise."

Her words were utterly soothing to Buffy. Emma’s tiny voice reassured her and calmed her fears. Her daughter seemed to know something that no one else did and Buffy put her trust in her. "Thank you, Emma."

"Okay, Buffy. Listen to me. He is coming out like gang-busters. One or two good pushes should do it. You with me?" Riley said confidently. Like Buffy, his daughter’s words were reassuring and he knew that everything would be alright. He looked over Buffy’s raised knees and into her glistening green eyes.

Buffy looked back at him, suddenly calm. She wasn’t scared anymore. In her heart, she knew that Riley would take care of everything. "Always," she whispered.

There was a silence between them-a moment of clarity. And as the two lovers looked at each other, concentrating on nothing but that moment, there was a connection, an unspoken promise between them. The pain of the last six months burned away like fog in the early morning sunlight.

"I love you, Riley." Buffy spoke softly, afraid to break the serenity of the moment. She smiled at him.

Riley’s broken heart healed in an instant at the sound of his wife’s words. He had been terrified at the concept of raising their son alone. He needed Buffy. How could he possibly do any of it without her? But in one brief moment-in the time it took for Buffy to speak those four short words-Riley knew that he would never be alone. Buffy had always been with him, even in his darkest moments. And she would never leave him.

"Let’s meet our son. What do you say?" he asked, his voice calm and confident.

Buffy nodded. "I’m ready." She squeezed Emma’s hand tightly. "Ready to meet your brother?" she asked her.

Emma smiled. "I can’t wait!" she exclaimed, covering Buffy’s hand with her own free one.

With one last look at Riley, Buffy nodded and began to push. She didn’t seem to feel any pain. And before she knew it, it was over. Riley sat on his knees, holding their newborn son in his arms, grinning from ear to ear. "He’s beautiful, Buffy," he said, his emotions playing tag in his voice. "And I’m not just saying that." He laughed. He scooted over to his wife’s side and held Michael out to her, letting her gaze upon him.

Buffy grabbed Riley’s hand. "He looks like you," she whispered. "Especially the nose." She smiled up at him and giggled.

"Poor kid," Riley said jokingly. He looked down at his son and then back at his wife. He noticed that Emma was straining to see her baby brother, leaning over her mother to get a better look. Riley held him out further so she could see him. "What do you think, kiddo?" he asked Emma, smiling.

Emma seemed to think about it. She reached over and touched his face gently, feeling the softness of his skin. "He’s real soft. Kinda squishy, too." She looked up at her father, who was laughing.

"He is, huh? Well, so were you when you were his size." He cradled Michael against his chest protectively.

"Riley, look." Buffy sat up, pointing to a light in the distance. They watched silently as the light came closer, becoming brighter and brighter.

Riley looked over at his wife, holding her hand. They both knew what was happening. It was time to go.

They didn’t fight it, or cry, or scream in argument. Instead, Buffy stood up slowly and took Emma’s hand. She looked into her husband’s eyes silently. Riley remained sitting on the floor, holding their son.

"We have to leave this place," she said softly. "But that doesn’t mean we’re gone." She looked at her two boys lovingly, sad that she had to leave them, but knowing that they were going to be just fine.

"You are never gone, Buffy. I can feel you with me all the time. Both of you," he said, looking at his daughter.

Buffy leaned down to Riley, her eyes closed. Riley met her lips in a gentle kiss, relishing the warmth and softness of her mouth. They held the kiss for a long moment. When they pulled apart and opened their eyes, the room was completely filled with light. Buffy planted a soft kiss on her baby boy’s forehead, saying a short prayer before straightening up.

She smiled widely, her face and body outlined with a soft, illuminating glow. Emma stepped forward and hugged her dad tightly, whispering, "Bye, Daddy." She gave her brother a soft kiss on his cheek. "Bye, Michael." She returned to her mother and took her hand.

Riley watched silently as his two girls turned and walked away, towards forever.

He opened his eyes. Stretching, he looked around. Something was up. It was too quiet. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and swung his feet to the floor. "Mikey?" No response.

Riley stood up and walked into the hall, scratching his head absently. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in a very long time, but he could swear by the cotton in his mouth that he had a hangover. He really needed to brush his teeth. But first, he had to find his son.

"Mikey?" he asked again as he walked down he hall towards his son’s room. He peeked his head through the door and scanned the room. The place was a mess-toys everywhere, clothes on top of those. The kid had everything but the kitchen sink in there. But Riley knew that if that ever turned up missing, he would probably find it in there. He chuckled to himself. Yup, everything but the kitchen sink. And the kid himself.

Shaking his head, Riley yawned and turned from the door. That’s when he heard it-a huge crash sounded from downstairs. Suddenly wide awake, Riley bounded down the stairs.

He searched around the living room. Nothing. Then he heard a soft whimper coming from the kitchen. Riley ran through the door. What he saw was almost as bad as the scene in the bedroom he just came from. His son was standing in the middle of the mess, trying to figure out how he would fix it before his dad came down. He had no idea that Riley was standing behind him. Well, not until his dad spoke, at least.

"Michael Jacob Finn. Come over here. Now." Riley spoke to his son in a calm, but authoritative, tone.

The little boy jumped at the sound of his father’s voice. He turned slowly, his eyes focused on his feet, unable to look at Riley. He walked slowly over to his dad, trying not to cry. He knew he was in trouble.

Riley almost laughed out loud when Michael turned around. The entire front side of his pajamas was covered with God only knew what. And whatever had exploded in the kitchen covered his little face as well.

Kneeling down in front of his son, Riley tried to remain stoic. "What happened here?" he asked, trying to remain angry.

Michael didn’t answer or look up. He just continued the intense study of his feet.

"Michael, look at me." Riley was insistent. He waited patiently for his son to follow his instructions.

Knowing that his father wasn’t joking, Michael fidgeted a few moments longer before lifting his big green eyes to meet his father’s. He was trying his hardest to keep from crying.

"Just tell me what happened. I promise I won’t get mad." He looked carefully at the dirty little boy standing on trembling knees in front of him, hiding his smile.

Michael finally found the courage to speak. "You already are mad," he said quietly.

"No, I’m not. Cross my heart," he said softly, making an "X" over his heart with his finger.

Pausing a few moments, trying to get the story straight in his head, Michael started slowly. "Well, I woke up and I was hungry. So I came down to get something to eat. But," he paused again, taking a deep breath, "but when I got down here, I thought about how maybe you would be hungry too when you woke up. So I decided to make you something to eat too. So we could eat together before you went to work." He held his breath nervously, waiting for his punishment.

But Riley no longer had the desire to punish him. He knelt there, watching his five-year-old son gather his defenses as he prepared for the worst. Michael had wanted them to have breakfast together, something they rarely ever did. Riley was always up and off to work in a hurry, just grabbing a cup of coffee while Michael ate his Cheerios. And on weekends, they both usually slept in, which meant that breakfast time was over by the time they got up.

Riley shut his eyes briefly before refocusing on his son. "It’s okay, Mikey. I’m not mad," he said, grinning at him and messing up his hair.

"You’re really not mad? Honest?" Michael asked cautiously, hope seeping back into his sad green eyes.

"Honest," Riley reassured him. He stood up and surveyed the destroyed kitchen. He would never understand how such a little boy could make such huge messes. He shuddered briefly at the thought of what his son’s teenage years would be like. He shook his head. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. He looked down at Michael, who was standing next to him, also looking at the mess. "Now go get cleaned up. I’ll make us some breakfast."

The End

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