This MorningBy Liz
Great. That's just freaking perfect, Buffy thought as the rain outside started to fall even harder. 'Cause my mood so needs help sucking right now. She'd gotten home from a soggy, uneventful, and utterly unfulfilling patrol and tried to call Riley again. The beep on his machine had gotten longer all day, and she hung up without leaving another message. The first five would just have to suffice. She'd left "Call me" followed by "Hey, where are ya?" After that came "Anything wrong?" then "We should probably talk if you want" and finally "Hey, um, it's me again. I, um… we need to talk, okay?" Chances were, he just didn't want to talk to her yet. He was probably upset, and she couldn't blame him.
Xander was right, though, wasn't he? It wasn't her fault she didn't love him, was it? Maybe she had been preoccupied lately, but she had some pretty important stuff on her mind these days. Gee, Mom's only in the hospital having brain surgery while I try to protect my brand-new Key of a little sister. Still, she felt badly for how things had gone. She hadn't meant to hurt him – hell, she'd thought things were going just fine. But they obviously weren't. She just wished he'd quit this cold-shoulder thing and call her back.
She sat on a kitchen stool, absent-mindedly twirling a wooden spoon – the same spoon she'd almost staked Spike with when she'd found him drinking cocoa with her mother. Buffy gave a wry chuckle to herself as she remembered that night, two years before. Stupid jerk was right. Him and the Mayor both. She and Angel thought they could just be friends, but that was a miserable failure. Then they'd tried the non-physical soulmate thing, but that hadn't worked either. She'd been fooling herself to think she and Angel had any kind of a future together, and goddamn Spike had been the one to see it first.
Yeah, like he's one to talk about relationships. He went from being all hopelessly in love with Dru to dating Harmony. Harmony! That had to be about the sex. He certainly hadn't seemed to like her very much. Not that there was much to like about Harmony Kendall, of course. At least there hadn't been in high school, and Buffy doubted sincerely that being dead had improved her disposition. He probably didn't even enjoy her company – just kept her around for a ready shag. Nothing romantic at all, just a hot, hard…Buffy tossed the spoon back into the jar by the stove and stood up before she could continue that thought. Last thing she needed was a replay of this morning, when she'd heard his voice whispering in her ear, making her feel…
… like watching some TV. Now.
She went into the living room and flipped on the television, eager to embrace some mindless background noise. Grabbing an old afghan, she flopped down on the comfy brown couch and tucked herself in. The rain was still coming down outside. Not enough to qualify as a storm of any kind, just enough to leave little point in patrolling again tonight. Thank God for small favours. She had to hand it to the beasties of Sunnydale – at least they seemed to be considerate enough to stay in when it rained. Not all of them, of course, but by and large, most of your demons that located to southern California seemed to have a healthy distaste for icky weather. Or maybe it was just that there weren't a whole lot of humans running around in the rain to make it worth their time slogging through the wet. Hell, whatever worked. Just so long as she didn't have to make foul-weather slayage a habit.
The late show was on, some old detective series with Perry Mason in a wheelchair, but she wasn't really paying attention. She curled up on the sofa, trying to will the phone to ring, but it wouldn't cooperate. Buffy wished she at least knew if he was avoiding her today out of anger or hurt. Probably a little of both, she guessed. She still didn't know exactly what it was she planned to say to him, but it was clear they had to talk. Of course, since it was an easy guess he'd spent the day doing some thinking of his own, she had no idea what to expect when he finally decided to call.
Not for the first time, Buffy wished for something easier to face than this inevitable conversation. Maybe a nice giant Mayorsnake, she mused. You just haveta blow those sky-high and run. This was an entirely trickier situation. Not only did she have no idea what Riley had decided during his day alone, she wasn't even sure what she wanted him to say. She just knew, as Riley clearly had for a while now, that the status-quo wasn't going to work.
After a little while, she closed her eyes. Maybe the rain would let up later, and she could get in a good slay. For now, though, she was tired.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
She'd barely begun to dream. A guy in a wheelchair was just about to offer her a new set of tires when a knock on the door startled her awake. Riley... She threw off the afghan and made her way to the door, hesitating a moment before opening it. However he looked – angry, sad, resolute – Buffy knew the conversation they were about to have was likely going to mean the end of their relationship. She truly wanted to remain friends, but that would probably be too much to ask from Riley. At least for quite a while. She took a deep breath, braced herself, and opened the door.
Riley Finn looked utterly miserable. He was drenched from head to toe - he'd obviously been walking in the rain for hours, and he looked dead on his feet. "Jesus, Riley, you look like hell!" She'd been prepared for anger or bitterness, but seeing him like this…
"I'm sorry I didn't call first," he ventured. "I just had a lot of thinking to do and…"
"And you can tell me about it after we get you dried off. Go wait in the kitchen while I grab some towels. I'll be right back."
Riley tried not to drip on the hallway rug as he made his way to the kitchen. He stripped off his ruined sweater, wringing it out over the sink while he waited for her to return. Buffy followed a minute later, loaded with towels. She watched the muscles play across his back as he squeezed the water from his sweater. His t-shirt was plastered to his skin, and she took just a moment to appreciate the way the fabric clung to his arms. Those are good arms to have, she remembered telling Willow, and she silently cursed the realization that she would probably never feel them around her again the way she had last night. She cleared her throat, "Um, I've got some towels…" She handed him one, resisting the urge to help dry his hair, and sat the rest on the counter next to him. Then she resumed her earlier post on the stool and sat quietly, not sure which of them should begin.
"I guess I should start," Riley said.
Buffy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. If you want to. I mean, seemed like you were up to some heavy-duty thought today, so if you wanna go first, that's…"
"Buffy?"
"Oh. Right. Sorry." She was nervous. She'd spent the better part of the day preparing herself for this, but that didn't mean it was going to be any easier. Buffy took a deep breath and tried to steel herself for his anger, or his tears, but she was surprised by the air of calm about him as he began.
"A couple things happened last night," he began. "And they really opened my eyes."
"I know, Riley, and I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner. Last night was…"
Riley turned to face her, and she quieted. He didn't look mad or hurt, just resolved to say what was on his mind, and she wasn't making that any easier by interrupting. She gestured apologetically, and he continued. "Thank you. Like I said, a couple things happened last night which really opened my eyes. At first, I just wanted to run Spike through with something long and pointy, but eventually, he started to make sense." Buffy's eyes blinked furiously at the name, but she didn't interrupt again. She had a feeling, though, that wherever this was about to go, it wasn't a good place. Either Spike had been here late last night, or Riley had left a lot earlier than she'd thought.
"I spent a long time looking for you to love me, Buffy, but it wasn't gonna happen. You needed something that just wasn't me. You said you wanted a normal guy, but then you didn't seem too happy about it. Me, I mean. All normal again. Soon as I had that surgery, I could barely get the time of day from you."
Buffy wanted to object, to be angry with him for saying such a thing, especially with her mother in the hospital. But he really didn't seem like he was accusing her of anything, just laying it all out. Besides, they both knew it was true. This calm approach of his was infuriating, though. If he'd been all pissed off, she could yell and break up with him and tell herself how unreasonable he'd been. But she didn't know how to counter this whole quiet resolve thing he had going. She also didn't know how much of this he'd thought about by himself or gotten from Spike, but whichever one of them it came from, it didn't seem very far off the mark.
He continued, "I just haven't been what you need. So that left me with two choices. Be satisfied with what I had, or leave."
He paused at that, and Buffy ventured a guess. "And that's what you were thinking about today?"
"Actually? I had that figured out before breakfast. I was outta here. Enough of the puppy-dog crap." Buffy blanched at the stony coldness that crept its way into his voice, but Riley continued, "I know, I know. Truth hurts and all that. But as a great pain in my ass once told me, you've got a type, and it wasn't me."
"Type? Riley, what the hell are you talking about?" Buffy heaved a heavy sigh, bracing herself for his Psych 101 routine. This conversation wasn't going like she'd pictured in her head. She had expected him to say he could change, or to ask her to change for him. Be a better girlfriend or something like that. Ask for some reassurance, maybe, or jump to some self-deprecating conclusion that would make her feel like shit. But there were no recriminations or pleas. Just this unnerving frankness he approached her with now. This was new from him. Different. And she didn't know what to make of it.
Riley eyed her and stepped around the center island towards her. Buffy, for her part, unsuccessfully fought the impulse to take a step away and scooted backwards off her stool. If he noticed her growing discomfort, it didn't seem to bother him. He continued, scratching his chin and casting his eyes about in mock deliberation. "Hm. What type could that be? Maybe… dangerous? Rough? Occasionally bumpy in the forehead region?"
"Jesus, Riley. Angel again?!" This, she thought, was familiar ground, and as loathe as she was to revisit it with him, it was at least something she knew how to react to. "Not everything is about him, you know? He's history! Ancient, in fact! And I wish, just once, you could quit bringing him into things every time you feel insecure!"
If Buffy expected him to answer her challenge, she was disappointed. He didn't yell or huff or demand reassurance or any of the things she had expected him to do. Instead, he just hung his head and laughed. "No, Buffy, it really isn't about Angel at all, is it? It's about you. And it's about me."
"Riley…?"
"Take a good look, Buffy, and tell me this isn't what you want." Her stomach lurched as she heard a too-familiar shifting of bones, and Riley lifted his face to her. His new face. Buffy's scream caught in her throat, trapped between her sadness and horror, and a sick chill washed through her legs, turning them to stone. Her feet wouldn't move. She had to move. Had to run. Had to… Riley's hand shot out to grab her arm, and he smiled wide, showing his new fangs proudly. "Hey, hey," he cooed impossibly, "what's with the fear and loathing? Come on, Slayer, I thought you liked a little monster in your man."
The kitchen had long since faded away, swirled into the ice that was seeping through her veins. All she could see was those eyes, so green a moment ago, now twinkling golden as if something wonderful had happened. From miles away, she could feel her hand slowly raising to his face. She had to touch it. Make it real. Or push it away, wipe it clean. This wasn't right.
This isn't happening. It isn't real. I'm going to wake up, and Riley's going to come talk, and we'll break each other's hearts, and this isn't him, and he's not hurting my arm, and he's not standing here, not looking at me with those eyes and oh god Riley's not dead!
But her fingertips brushed the ridges now marring his face, and he leaned into her touch, welcoming it. This was real. Riley was dead, and what stood before her was a mockery of everything he'd been. She was shaking. Petrified. Grief-stricken. Furious. There – there was an emotion that could help her. Anger. Howling against this thing that wore Riley's face, she tore her arm from his grip, only vaguely aware of the crunch of her shoulder as she twisted it away from him. As she spun, her legs finally came back to life, and she landed a desperate kick to his ribs, sending him sprawling. Then she launched herself towards the back door. She wrenched it open, too aware of the delighted laughter behind her, and flung herself out into the night.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Buffy ran.
Her mind raced frantically to wrap itself around the horror that was chasing her, but she couldn't accept it, couldn't let it be real. The rain that continued to fall mixed with her tears, stinging her eyes, blinding her. She had to get away. But no matter how hard she ran, he was still behind her, gleefully taunting her as he gave chase.
"Come on, what's the matter, Buffy? Afraid of little kittenish me?" The thing that was once Riley Finn let out a howl of laughter. He was overjoyed – she finally saw him as her equal! But if she wanted to play "hard to get" now, so be it. He would win her. "I have to admit, lover," he called after her, "it wasn't my idea, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"
Truthfully, Riley had left Spike's crypt the night before prepared to pack his bags and be out of her life for good. Maybe even call Graham about going back in. But when a gang of vampires ambushed him on his way home, he'd been unable to fight them all. Half their number had fallen before he succumbed, but in the end, the eight of them were just too many. Just as well, this fledgling thought. He was once again the powerful fighter she'd wanted him to be. And this jackrabbit act of hers was turning him on…
No! her mind raced. This can’t be happening! But no matter how fast she ran, clutching her injured arm to her side, the ugly truth was still behind her, gaining. She had to kill this… this thing that wore Riley's face. But she hadn't had time to grab a stake, or any other weapon, before she'd fled. And so far, none had presented themselves.
I can't do this again!
When Angelus returned, so many had people died before she found the strength to kill him. Miss Calendar and her uncle Enyos. Kendra. Even Theresa from gym class and who knew how many faceless others… Unbidden, Buffy saw Angel's horrified eyes retreating from her as Acathla swallowed him whole. He'd loved her, and she'd had to send him to hell. Now another man who'd given her his heart was lost to the same darkness. She knew Riley would never have chosen this fate, that he'd rather she stake him outright before he became a killer. Oh god, what if he’s already… She had to kill him now, but she couldn't gather herself to turn and face the demon behind her.
So she ran.
Riley Finn was in ecstasy. He could swear he felt his heart beating wildly as he gave himself over to the joy of the chase. He'd been chasing Buffy Summers since long before he died, but tonight he would finally claim her. Buffy had shunned him after he lost his Initiative-given strength, but he was stronger now than he'd ever been. He felt the power coursing through him and shouted his triumph into the night. Finally, he could be what she wanted! Finally, she would see him! "This is amazing, Buffy!" he called after her. "God, I can hear your heart racing!" He could have followed with his eyes closed. The pounding of her heartbeat drew him along behind her, and the scent of her fear mixed with the wind and the rain as it whipped past him, spurring him onward. She is such a tease! Nice to know some things never change…Buffy's legs began to ache as they pulled her along, almost out of instinct, to a familiar place where she might be able to make her stand. She couldn't believe the latest horror the Hellmouth was visiting on her. Her dead lover was trying to kill her, and of all the places she could go to feel safer, she was headed to a cemetery. She could still hear him behind her. His voice, once so tender and loving, was calling to her roughly, taunting her with promises of what he'd do when he finally caught up to her. How good she would taste. The dull ache in her shoulder was getting worse as the adrenaline she'd been running on started to fade. The injury was slowing her down. He'd be on her in minutes, if not sooner, and she still needed to find a weapon. A branch, a rock, something!
She wished someone were here to help her now. Giles, Xander, Willow… someone to give her strength and help her face this thing, but as soon as the thought registered, she said a silent prayer of thanks that she'd been alone when he came. She was grateful beyond belief that Dawn was at Xander's tonight – Dawn had been terrorized enough when Angelus jumped her at the school that horrible night when he'd returned, looking to send Buffy a message… except that it hadn't really been Dawn, had it? Buffy shook her head, trying to clear the images of that night from her mind – right now, she needed to concentrate on surviving. And on finding a way to kill this thing behind her. To kill Riley.
It's not Riley, damnit! Riley's… Riley's dead…
As Buffy bolted past the gates of the cemetery, she could still hear his ghoulish promises. He was finally what she wanted now… She wouldn't have to pretend anymore… Her blood would taste so sweet… He'd make her like him. That last promise chilled her to the bone, and she knew she had to end this now, before he could wear her down any further.
Casting her eyes about again for some kind of weapon, she finally spied a branch that had broken off a nearby tree. It wasn't very big, but it would have to do. She lunged for it, knowing he'd be on her in seconds. As her fingers wrapped around it, she landed on her injured shoulder with a thud. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she crumpled onto the muddy ground. Then she heard the most frightening sound yet. Silence.
She couldn't hear him anymore. Buffy tried to brace herself for his attack, but it didn't come. The taunts, the laughter, the gleeful threats – they had all disappeared, but she knew he was still there. He was toying with her now. She wiped the water from her face, trying desperately to sense him, and she stood cautiously, carefully. She tried to tell herself this was just another hunt. Just another vampire to dispatch before she could crawl into her warm, safe bed.
But this wasn't just any vampire. It was Riley. Someone who'd patrolled at her side, even when she told him she didn't want him to come. He knew her. Her strengths. Her weaknesses. And right now, he was waiting for her to come to him. She knew he could be behind any one of the headstones and crypts that surrounded her, and she tried to will her heartbeat to calm, for all the good it would do. He would still hear it. She might as well have been shouting to him. Still, she crept silently as she could, cradling her throbbing arm.
Buffy rounded stone after stone, finding no sign of him. She could swear she felt his eyes on her as she searched, and a wave of dread washed over her as a realization struck. She wasn't the hunter here. He was. And right now, he was no doubt sizing up his prey for a final strike.
No sooner did the thought cross her mind, than he sprang. He lunged from his perch atop a nearby crypt, sending her sprawling in the mud. She shook her head to clear the inky clouds swirling behind her eyes and felt his weight on top of her, pinning her to the ground. "You never do think to look up, do you? Man, that was too easy!" He threw back his head and howled in laughter, thrilling in his victory.
His celebration was premature. Buffy took that opportunity to drive the heel of her hand up underneath his chin, snapping his head further back, and he rolled away from her, wincing. As they both scrambled to their feet, though, she could see the smile still hadn't left his face. "That's more like it!" he applauded. He positively glowed, now that she had finally joined the fight. Eagerly, he charged her, but she sidestepped him, lashing out with her right leg. She caught him squarely in the stomach, and as he went to his knees, she followed with a furious uppercut that landed him on his back. As he lay dazed, Buffy hefted the stake and took a steadying breath.
I can do this, she assured herself, as she took a last look at Riley.
But the moment's hesitation was one moment too many. Riley lunged for her again, and she staggered backward, falling. Her head cracked against a tombstone as she landed, a sickening thud that would have rendered anyone else unconscious. She thrust the makeshift stake at him, but he batted it away. "Come on now," he laughed, "I'm starting to think you're not giving me your best here." Riley wrenched her shoulder, and she screamed in pain. He was on top of her now, pinning her legs with his as she fought to dislodge him. Healthy, she could have freed herself. Uninjured, she wouldn't have missed with the stake. But with an arm that was fast becoming numb and a nasty gash in her head, she just couldn't find the leverage to throw him off her.
Swimming through aching nausea and panic, Buffy could feel herself weakening. Her left arm was now completely useless, and she was losing blood. She lashed out with her right fist, but he caught it effortlessly. He grabbed both her wrists, holding them over her head, then he leaned over her. He buried his face in her neck, and she tensed. Please God I can't die like this… But the bite didn't come. Instead, he ran his tongue along her scar, laving it with rough kisses. "Mine," he growled, daring her to resist. Tears coursed down her face again as he raised himself up to scent the air around her. "You smell so good, Buffy. The fear, it's…" He groaned as a shudder ran through him.
Weaponless, her strength fading, Buffy fought to remain conscious as he continued his assault. "Come on, Buffy. You know this is what you wanted. Don't get all shy now. We don't want you to miss the big finish." As if to punctuate his words, he released her left wrist and brought his hand to her chest. It hovered over her breast a moment before he tore at the fabric, exposing her to him. Then he descended on her, raking his teeth across her flesh, drawing blood. He licked at it as he took her breast in his mouth roughly, bruising her. The tender lover that had been Riley Finn was gone. This thing, this vampire shuddered again, swallowing in ecstasy as he thrust against her, lost to any thought but the need to devour her utterly.
Buffy mewed weakly, still trying in vain to throw him off her, and he smiled at her determination. "Please, Riley," she heard herself cry, "don't do this! I can't… you can't…" But her words only served to urge him on as he continued to plunder her exposed flesh, working his way back to the scar at her throat. Tonight, he would make that mark his. His. No more Master, no more Dracula, no more fucking Angel. Buffy would be his forever. Driven by the pulse that throbbed beneath his lips, he opened his mouth wide, and Buffy screamed.