The thing is...

The thing is yesterday was... Yesterday was so...

So fucking great. Couldn't have asked for a better day. Probably didn't deserve it.

But I should've known...

Should've fucking known.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
"What is that?" Buffy groaned. "Make it stop." She burrowed her head into the pillow and covered her ears but it did nothing to stop the phone from ringing. "Riley." No response. "*Riley*." She nudged him. "Riley - your phone."

Right. Phone.

Riley sat up slowly. Where was the phone? Could've followed the ringing if it hadn't already stopped. Oh. Good. Ringing again. How did the phone get to be up there? Or, better question, how did he get to be down here?

He reached his hand up to the desk and felt around for the phone. Found it after the second ring and answered it. "Finn." He felt Buffy roll over next to him, trying to get comfortable. How exactly was it they had ended up on the floor? "Yeah. Jack Larson? He's the distributor? Patch him through."

It was a damn good thing they spent a shitload of money on Larson's stuff, Riley thought, because the guy was none too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night from some customer who wanted information that was highly confidential.

"Yes," Riley said, with measured patience, "I realize your customers don't like to make themselves known, as I'm sure you realize who I work for. And I'm sure most of your highly confidential customers would be highly unhappy with a distributor who's offices had just been raided by the U.S. government."

"Can you do that?" Buffy whispered.

Riley shrugged. He had no idea what he could and couldn't do. Probably shouldn't be making outright threats though. "I'll tell you what. Let me give you a name. If it sounds familiar, we go from there. No one needs to know where the address came from – this is between you and me. And no one needs to take their business elsewhere."

There went that threat thing again. Oh well. Guy shouldn't be doing business with two sides of the same coin.

There were a few seconds of silence before Riley got the answer he was looking for. "Good. Glad you see it my way. His name is Warren..." He looked at Buffy for the last name. "Mears... Right," Riley said, "Warren from Sunnydale."

Cocky son of a bitch even used his own name. And he apparently wasn't too popular with the distributor, Riley thought, as the voice on the other end of the line unleashed a torrent of curses and said he would gladly tell Riley whatever he needed to know but it would have to wait because all his stuff was at his house and he was at his girlfriend's and the only reason he even answered was because the cell's caller i.d. said UCS and we all know who that is – heh, heh – but anyway he had told his wife he was in Reno with the guys and wouldn't be back until tomorrow night.

Riley was out of breath just listening to the guy talk. He jumped in at the first chance. "How 'bout you tell her you had to come home early? Like first thing in the morning early." Good answer, Jack. "Yeah. Call me in a few hours. They'll patch it through."

He closed the phone and put it back on the desk. Looking down at Buffy, he said, "So what exactly are you going to do to these guys? Take away their comic books?"

"Don't know. I'm sure it will come to me." She turned to him as he lay down next to her. "So?"

"So, what?"

"So where's the talk? You know, the I-don't-want-you-to-go-alone big protector man talk," she said, snuggling up against him.

He closed his eyes. Her body against him was pure heaven – her hair tickling his chin, her smooth cheek against his chest, her hand moving slowly down his side. "Big protector man got lost somewhere in Belize," he said.

It was the second tour through. Sam had already joined the team, but other than a quick introduction after their squads almost took each other out, he hadn't ever talked to her. Didn't think she had any business being there, in fact. Riley thought she should have been packed up and sent home with the other survivors of the massacre she had witnessed. She was a civilian, and civilians had no business being on this team. Of course, by the time Riley came back to the Army, Graham outranked him. And Graham being Graham had not only brought her onto the team, but had moved her to Riley's squad and ordered him to take over her training.

The first night after she switched to Riley's squad, they had almost lost six men. Had never been in danger of losing the one woman, though, because she had totally kicked ass and nailed the demon with one of the hardest non-Slayer hits Riley had ever seen. He had had a prime view of the hit because it happened right over his head as the demon was swooping down in what would have probably been the last seconds of Riley's life. More than enough time for him to regret the fact that the reason he and the other five men were lying on the ground was because he hadn't wanted Sam to get hurt and had ordered her to stay behind at the camp while his advance team went in, even though they had really needed a soldier in the lookout position, which was where she would have been if he hadn't been so chauvinistic and utterly stupid.

It was only because she was so damn stubborn and had followed them anyway, that she had come upon them when she did. Riley's only comfort was that the demon was as surprised as he was. That and the fact that she actually killed the demon, whereas Riley got to walk away. He wasn't totally spared, though; Sam being Sam, and not caring whatsoever about things like orders and rank, gave him the harshest dressing down he had ever gotten. Ten times worse than anything Walsh had ever handed out.

It was only after they had been together for a while that she told him she had had no idea she could hit that hard, either – she had just been so pissed at him for leaving her behind. Luckily for him, she had taken it out on the demon.

That was the end of big protector man. Not that Buffy had ever exactly let him get away with it. She just had never called him on it in quite the same way.

He was startled when Buffy pulled away.

"Wow," Buffy said. "She was really something, huh?" Buffy had never lost him like that – especially when she was naked and in his arms. But wherever his mind was now, it was far away and not on her.

"Yes, actually."

"Do you miss her?" Buffy couldn't help but ask. She had managed to avoid this topic for an entire week and she still felt fragile after seeing Spike and Anya, yet she was the moth and the flame was calling.

"Yeah, I do." He had been wondering when this would come up. His own feelings were mixed enough when it came to Sam that he hadn't been able to bring it up himself. If Sam hadn't let him go, he never could have left her – another woman he would be in debt to for the rest of his life; but she had been right – they had shared so much, but it had never been this. Buffy was the only one who had ever made him feel like this. "Probably always will. But it's... You're different."

"How?" she asked.

How could she not know? Where did that lost, little girl voice come from? This was a side of Buffy he was still getting used to. It certainly hadn't been around much before he left. Maybe if it had...

No. No what-ifs or regrets. No trying to protect her and no asking things from her that she can't give. That's where he had gone wrong last time around and he wasn't going to make those mistakes twice.

"How?" he repeated, combing his hand through her hair. "Because when I touch you all I see is light. And when you kiss me I can't breathe. Because life without you is muted. Black and white. I can live that way; I can even be happy. But I want surround sound and technicolor – voices blaring, colors screaming, totally and completely crazy. I want the crazy."

She lifted her head up. His kiss was warm and sweet and tender. Different than the kisses he had given her throughout the night – kisses that had been hungry and rough and almost brutally intense. She had felt wanted – and she had wanted right back – but this was how it felt to be loved.

"Riley?" she asked, breaking off the kiss but not pulling away. She couldn't – she needed to be touching him. "I want... bed." It was hard to talk, she felt her heart pounding and she couldn't catch her breath, but she wanted to be on the bed. Like the way normal people did this. Not in some tomb on cold, hard stone. And not on the floor in some hotel room which, even with the pillow and blanket he had pulled off the bed was still just a cold, hard floor.

On the bed. On a soft, creaky bed. He was kissing behind her ear and her throat and his hands were moving slowly down her back. "Bed, but...don't...stop," she gasped as his hands made their way to more sensitive areas.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he sat up, grabbing behind her for the desk and pulled up slowly, his mouth never leaving her skin.

"You practice that?" she murmured into his neck.

"Couple hundred chin-ups a day. Knew they'd come in handy sooner or later." He laid her down on the bed and ran his hand down the length of her body. He always forgot how tiny she was. In his memories, she was larger than life. Flawless, too – funny how time had stripped away all imperfections. But she wasn't perfect – maybe she had been once, but not anymore. So how was it possible that that made him love her even more? How was it possible *to* love her more?

"What?" she asked as he looked at her.

How was he going to manage when she walked away?

"Riley, what's wrong?"

Spike had been right about a lot of things, as much as Riley hated to admit it. Maybe no one would ever hold on – even the monster couldn't get a strong enough grip, apparently. But it was better to be the one close to her; the one who got to wake up with her and stroke her face and kiss her lips. To be surrounded by the spirit even if he couldn't hold it in his hands.

"If you've waited until now to tell me I have spinach in my teeth, I'm going to be really mad."

He laughed and shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. I just..." His voice broke. "I just missed the crazy."

She reached out her hand and pulled him to her when he took it. She took his face in her hands and kissed him with more love in her heart than she knew she had left. And somehow he knew to be gentle. No teeth, no scars, no screams. Just kisses and caresses and a warm, gentle touch. Exactly what she wanted.

She didn't know how, but he knew.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
The phone didn't ring again until Buffy was in the shower. Riley took down the information and was incredibly proud of the fact that there was only a split second in which he considered not giving her the address. O.k. So big protector man wasn't totally left behind, but at least he could be contained.

"Room service?" she asked, clapping her hands. "You ever wonder how food so bad can be so exciting?" She bit into a piece of soggy bacon.

"Never actually considered it that exciting," he said.

"Oh, come on! Someone brings you the food all wrapped up in nice packages and then when you're done you just leave it? And someone actually takes it away? Isn't that neat?"

"It really is the little things, isn't it?" Riley asked, an amused smile on his face. It was nice to see her happy. Even if it only came and went – that smile didn't surface that often.

"No," she said, looking down. "It's the big things, too. It's really nice to have some big things."

She looked up tentatively as though she hadn't believed a word he said the night before. He leaned across the table and kissed her.

She smiled, eyes on the floor again. "Sometimes... It's just hard to be back. Things don't always feel real."

"Back from...?" He stopped as she drew her finger across her throat. "Oh. Right. Sorry. I keep forgetting." Well that had been a ridiculously dumb thing to say, Riley thought. Of course, when he left Sunnydale, he had never expected to see her again. He figured the life expectancy in each of their jobs didn't make for good odds. He thought more about the fact that she actually wasn't dead than he did about the fact that she had been.

"So – address?"

He handed her the piece of paper. "Jack says to tell Warren that his bill is overdue."

"What are you up to today? More things to sign? Phone calls to make?" She had laughed when he told her what his days were like, much to his chagrin. She figured it was only a matter of time before he made something happen – he was nearly jumping out of his skin. And she was amazed he had yet to say anything about patrolling. Then again, he had been careful to keep his distance. He would come to the house and hang out for a while, but that was pretty much it. No patrolling, no talking about anything personal, and no touching. Except for demon night. And the next night. Well, and last night.

"Nope," he said, "Field trip. To the desert. Weird readings keep coming up so I thought I'd take a look."

She couldn't help but smile at the glee on his face. He looked like a little kid who had just been given permission to jump in the puddles. "Helicopter and all?"

"Unh-uh. This isn't exactly approved. They keep telling me it's just the equipment going crazy but I think they're missing something."

"Riley Finn. Disobeying orders? Will wonders never cease?"

He grinned. "It's these damn women in my life. They have no respect for authority. Seems to be rubbing off on me."

"But I do have respect for heavily armed men. Please tell me you're at least taking some with you."

He leaned down and pulled a pair of boots from under the table. "No, but the car has a torpedo launcher."

Buffy's smile disappeared. "You let Dawn drive a car that has..."

"Kidding. No torpedo launchers," he said laughing. "Didn't think you'd actually believe that one." A napkin came flying at him. "Is this the 'throwing things' thing you were talking about?"

"No, but if you don't watch out it will be. Why aren't you taking anyone with you?"

"In case of evil sand? The only thing I'm concerned about is the snakes." He started lacing up one of the boots.

"I've seen some pretty big snakes," she muttered.

"You do see the irony here, don't you?" he asked, pulling the second boot on. "Notice how I'm very specifically not asking you the same question."

She glared at him. "They're nerds, Riley. Short and squirrelly and, well, nerdy."

He could tell he was in trouble without even looking at her. "Yeah, and they've managed to evade you for how long?"

"Because I haven't gone after them. I had other things on my mind."

"I know. I..." He looked up, the lightness gone from his voice. "I need to be able to do this, Buffy. I can't go back to what we were."

It was hard to read the look in his eyes. Defiance was there as was stubbornness, but so was that pleading look – the one that was asking for her to meet him halfway, something she hadn't been able to do before. She stood and came over to him, her arms around his neck as she sat on his lap. "It's just... This is hard. I'm not ready to lose you again," she said, kissing him. "So be careful, o.k.? I'm expecting you to come back this time."

He smiled. As though anything could tear him away. As though anything could ever tear him away again.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
Should've known.

Should've fucking known.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
Riley had forgotten what California looked like – the real California, not the one where the lawns were watered on a timer and houses took up every possible space. He was looking forward to the drive and the chance to get reacquainted. He hadn't really had a chance to do that yet.

He had barely paid attention to the scenery when he and Sam had driven in a couple weeks earlier. Sam had never been to the West Coast, and when they drove in together, he had gotten a kick out of how excited she was. They had been all over the world together, but there was something about California that lit her up inside. He had been more interested in Sam's reactions than in what she was reacting to.

And of course he had been thinking about Buffy. Wondering whether she would actually speak to him, much less help him. Wondering whether she'd have any reaction whatsoever to his reappearance in Sunnydale. Whether she had ever felt anything even close to what he felt about her.

The second time he came back, only days after he and Sam had left, he had been too overwhelmed to notice anything beyond the road in front of him. First there was the whole guilt thing – that he had accepted Sam's decision without questioning it. The circumstances of their marriage had been unusual, but it was a marriage nonetheless, and that should have been enough. Should have been, but it wasn't.

It didn't matter that logically he knew Sam was right. Their love and affection was real, that had never been an act, but it wasn't earth-shattering or world-stopping for either of them. There was safety in that and a steadiness they had both needed. In some ways, it was an easy way out. Not a lot of risk on either of their parts. But as time passed, so did their need for that kind of comfort, and Riley figured something would eventually give. What he didn't figure was that he would be the one to leave, and regardless of the reasons why or the fact that it was with Sam's blessing, there would always be a part of him that felt he shouldn't have left.

His guilt was of course compounded by the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about Buffy. How the terror he felt when he thought of seeing Buffy only days before was nothing compared to going back again, knowing full well what chance he was taking – the odds of him winning this war were so small and the price of losing so big. It had been hard enough to keep the car headed in the right direction, much less actually pay attention to what was passing by the windows.

So yesterday, when he decided to field test some of the new equipment that had come in, he knew that he was going to head out to the desert and lose himself in the land for a little while.

There was something about the California desert that spoke to him. He had hated it with a passion when he first saw it – the harsh, arid, colorless terrain that was so different than the lush, vibrant farmland that he had grown up on. But he soon saw that underneath the surface was a world teeming with life: prickly cacti, ugly creatures, and countless grains of sand. He found it inspiring that something that seemed so dead could not only be alive, but could somehow hold its own against the brilliant blue sky that it met far off in the distance.

It wasn't until the soil samples came back with traces of protein that had no business being there, that he decided to head all the way out to Death Valley – after all, Command had never actually ordered him to stay away from the hot spots, just said there was nothing to be concerned about. He had even thought about bringing his camping gear so he could sleep out under the stars. He figured it would be good to get away from the intensity of Sunnydale and being around Buffy – of holding back around Buffy – even if only for a night.

Of course, that had been yesterday afternoon, or, more specifically, before last night. At this point he couldn't think of anything short of death that would keep him away from her for another night.

A few hours after he left his room at the hotel, he pulled into Death Valley National Park. Heading into the ranger's station, he flashed his badge – the real one, not the Forestry Service one – and within minutes was sitting in the Administrator's office with pictures and topographical maps laid out before him. Riley had had countless meetings like this over the past year, and he knew how to ask the right questions without arousing suspicion or concern.

Plus it was so much easier when the person he was talking to had a military background, as the Administrator did, because they tended to not ask the hard-to-answer questions that civilians always managed. Most of the time, Riley actually liked the challenge of dealing with civilians – it added another dimension to his work and kept his mind alert – but today he wasn't in the mood for challenges. He was reveling in the beauty of the earth and the big, open spaces that made even him feel small. And the fact that everything reminded him of Buffy – her skin against his, blanketing him with her warmth like the heat of the day; her scent all around him in the scorching desert air; and her voice, a breathless whisper dancing in the breeze.

According to the Administrator no one had seen anything unusual. No injuries and no suspicious deaths – human, animal or vegetation. They had detected a slight temperature variation at the same coordinates the UCS sensors had picked up, but attributed it to old equipment. And no problem for Agent Finn to head out to the dunes. That area was closed off to the public, so no one would bother him. They'd send a ranger as an escort, but once he was out there he'd be on his own.

Which was absolutely fine with him, Riley thought once the ranger had left. Deserts were tricky. It was easy to get lost in the rainforest – the jungle so dense that the path you had cleared closed up as you worked your way through. But you knew the dangers and you took the right precautions.

The desert, however, was misleading – so open that you thought you could see exactly where you came from and where you wanted to go, the sun and moon and stars always above you, ready to guide you home. Wasn't until you realized that you had been there for hours and the wind had already blown the sand across your trail and the sun had moved across the sky with its shadows playing tricks on you that you knew you were lost. That you knew you were never going home.

If you wanted to make it out, you needed to know what you were doing. Riley had had a good teacher – a Khoikhoi guide in the sand seas of the Namib Desert; an ancient man, just five feet tall who had barely uttered a sound. Yoda, as Sam called him, much to Riley's dismay, had only been with them for a few weeks, but in that time managed to teach Riley things about patience and perception and focus that could only be learned from a man who's age was measured in generations rather than years since birth.

Death Valley was nothing like the Namib Desert – not nearly as poetic or awesome or timeless. It was still young and awkward – almost simplistic. But it was just as dangerous and certainly not to be underestimated, Riley thought as he sat on the hood of the car scanning his surroundings and scoping out the lay of the land; trying to distinguish patterns among the sand dunes as he found reference points against the mountains on the horizon.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for – he was fifty feet away from the exact location of the odd readings. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about that particular spot. It was at the base of a medium-sized dune; no vegetation nearby, but that wasn't unusual for this area. Shifting shadows mirrored the sand as the breeze carried it from dune to dune and the sun shimmered in the heat, but other than that no movement.

Riley could feel his skin beginning to burn – sitting on a black hood in the California desert at high noon wasn't exactly a brilliant idea. He figured he had a good enough sense of the land, good enough at least to do a little exploring. He jumped off the hood and went around to the back of the car, pulling off the sweat soaked bandana as he walked. After opening the back, the first thing he did was take a long drink of ice cold water from the cooler. He poured some over his head before putting the bandana back. Slinging a rifle over his back – he hadn't been kidding about the snakes – and clasping a knife to his belt, he grabbed a box and pulled out a handheld sensor that could read temperature, radiation, pheromones, protein, you name it. Even had GPS. He had never seen anything quite so small do quite so much. Well, except for Buffy, but that was totally different.

It was so quiet and peaceful that Riley didn't want to turn on his radio, but the cell phones were useless out here and he knew he had to check in. Plus, he was testing the communications equipment, too, so he was going to have to do it sooner or later.

He clicked it on and called in, surprised at how loud his voice sounded after the hours he had spent in silence.

"Go ahead." The voice came crackling through the radio.

Turning on the sensor he said, "Can you read my position?"

"Affirmative. Forty-two feet from the hot spot."

Riley had been looking at the sensor, but his head jerked up. "Hot spot? It's there now?"

"Affirmative, sir. Do you see anything?"

Nothing. Not one single thing that seemed out of place. Maybe it really is just the equipment going crazy, he thought, looking back at the sensor in his hand.

"Sir?"

"Yeah," Riley said, walking closer to the spot, thankful for the sudden cool breeze. Other than the shimmering heat, he didn't see a damn thing.

"I'm getting other readings. Six-"

The radio was out of Riley's hand before he knew what hit him. He saw a flash of color as he was thrown through the air. He scrambled up as soon as he landed, rifle in firing position, looking for his attacker. Nothing.

He could hear the radio squawking but couldn't see it and couldn't make out any words. Backing up against the sand dune, his eyes swept the area. Whatever hit him was big – too big to have completely disappeared. What the-?

This time it took him from above. Slamming him into the ground, pushing his face into the sand so that he couldn't breathe. He tried to get the rifle out from under him but there was no way to do that and still be sure it wouldn't go off. Since he was the one who'd get it in the gut, he thought that probably wasn't the best solution.

He brought his elbow back and connected with something hard. He must of hit something sensitive because he could suddenly breathe again and he gulped in a mouthful of air. Twisting, he found himself looking into the eyes of a creature covered in scales – ugliest thing he had ever seen. And cold. Despite the heat of the desert, Riley was freezing. Shivering, teeth-chattering freezing.

Another elbow back and the thing was off him. He pushed up off the ground and spun around with his rifle to where the monster should have been. Should have been, but wasn't.

What the fuck?!?!

He unhooked the rifle from its sling – never would have carried it that way if he had expected a fight – and threw the strap on the ground. Trying to look four ways at once, he saw the sensor lying on the ground ten feet from where he was standing. He hadn't noticed anything on the sensor when he first approached the spot, but he had been looking at the GPS readout, not the temperature readings.

He moved cautiously to the sensor, not actually looking at it as he bent down to pick it up. He dropped the rifle – can't fire at something you can't see. A shiver ran up his spine. Recognizing now that this wasn't a breeze at all, but instead the creature coming up behind him, he whirled around, pulling the knife out of its sheath as he turned. He thrust it forward, surprised when he actually hit something. Riley couldn't see what the blade connected with, but it definitely connected – he could feel the resistance and hear the scream, a bloodcurdling, piercing scream that echoed off the dunes.

He tried to pull the knife out, but it was in too deep. This was absolutely bizarre, Riley thought, glancing down – he could see the car directly ahead of him, but the blade was clearly buried in something solid, the only thing visible being his hand on the hilt. The creature was obviously in front of him, but completely transparent.

Not dead, however, Riley realized as it came at him again, dislodging the knife and falling on top of him. Not dead, and really pissed. Which Riley could see now that the creature was visible again. But it was injured. Riley rolled over and sprang back off the monster which promptly disappeared. He reached down to where it had been, and as his hands connected with the ice cold body, the creature reappeared.

So that's how it works. Good to know, Riley thought as he let go and lost it again. Idiot. Have to be touching it to see it.

It grasped Riley's ankle and pulled him down again, grabbing at the knife and turning it on Riley. The blade sliced into his arm, but since the creature seemed to be aiming for his neck, the arm didn't seem so bad.

This is sick, Riley thought. He had been aching for a fight like this for two weeks. This is actually fun. Painful, but fun. Beats soil samples any day.

The knife was coming down again, but Riley grabbed onto the demon's wrist before it connected. His arm throbbing with pain and hand numb where he was holding on, Riley brought his knee up wondering if this species had the same weakness as warm-blooded males.

Yup.

The creature jumped back, trying to get away, but Riley held it by the wrist. He needed to see it if he was going to fight it. Of course, the creature knew that and was pulling away, with more strength then Riley had left. Riley reached up his other hand, unwilling to let go, swearing as the pain from his arm blinded him.

The thing was still screaming – a horrific sound. Bloodcurdling didn't begin to describe it. It took all Riley had to not cover his ears against the noise, which was probably the point – some kind of defense mechanism. But there was still one more thing left in the arsenal, and Riley looked up to see shimmering orbs of gelatinous ice come pouring out of the demon's mouth, searing black tracks into Riley's arms. It hurt like hell, burning and freezing at the same time.

It also pissed Riley off, knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold on. He was just about to let go when the screaming suddenly stopped and the creature's scales blew off its body showering down all around.

This can't be good. Adrenaline surging, Riley rolled and reached for the rifle that was lying a few feet away. Swinging it in the direction that the shot had come from, he sprang up and found himself looking down the barrel, make that barrels, of three nasty-looking guns, attached to three faceless men, covered head to toe in desert cammo.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

Riley sank down to his knees in pain and exhaustion, letting the rifle drop as he heard the familiar voice coming up behind him.

"I need a medic at these coordinates – code red! Code fuckin' red!" Graham yelled into a radio as he whipped off his goggles and pulled the gear off his head. "Stand down!" he shouted to the three men whose guns were still on Riley. "Arms. Riley – arms!"

Riley groaned as he lifted his arms up. They felt like lead. Burning lead.

"Fuckin' told you to leave it alone! What the hell are you doing out here?" Graham pulled the rifle's strap off the ground and tied it tightly around Riley's arm just below where he had been slashed by the knife. "You crazy? Come out to the fucking desert all alone? The fact that you're not dead yet…" Graham said as he shook his head.

"It's barely bleeding," Riley said through clenched teeth.

"The blood's not the problem," Graham said, sitting back on his heels. "It's the burns. You got any ice in that truck?"

Riley nodded. "Cooler in the back. But ice doesn't...

"McKenna!" Graham shouted before turning back and muttering, "Different kind of burn, man. Different kind of burn."

Riley looked back to see two more soldiers standing by the car. One of them went around back and brought out the cooler.

"Fuck," Graham said, his eyes on Riley's arms.

Riley looked down. The tracks that had been thin black streaks were now bands, starting at his wrists and inching upwards. He couldn't feel his hands any more. Couldn't move them either. He looked up at Graham. "What is it?"

Graham shrugged. "We've been tracking it for six months. Never actually saw it 'til today. In," he said, pointing to the cooler.

Riley put as much of his arms as was possible into the cooler. Cooler wasn't that big. Tears sprung to his eyes at the sudden pain and he had to force himself to keep his arms in the icy water. "So the hot spots weren't nothing."

Graham glared at him. "Told them not to put you in Sunnydale. I knew you wouldn't let it go. What the fuck they were thinking...He picked up his radio again. "Where the hell is the medic?...don't *have* ten minutes. Get him here faster."

"What happens in ten minutes?" Riley asked.

Graham ignored him. "Any other open wounds? Fresh bruises? Or is that the only one?"

"Only one I know of."

"Where else did it touch your skin?"

"Bare skin? Back of head. Hands. Why?"

Graham pointed to a purple mark on Riley's neck. "That new?"

"Define new."

"This isn't a fucking game," Graham said, looking at the sky for the chopper. "Did the demon do that, or not?"

"No."

For a second, Graham looked relieved. "Good, the less..." He stopped and shook his head. "Friggin' Sunnydale. Buffy or vampires?"

"Which one would piss you off more?"

With a harsh laugh, Graham said, "Don't know, but I actually hope it was Buffy and you got a chance to tell her whatever it was you had left to say."

"Graham - what happens in ten minutes?"

Graham pointed to Riley's arm. It had slowed, but the black marks were still spreading up. "That burn reaches that cut? You don't want to know." He looked away. "We figure the burns are from where the demon touched you."

Riley shook his head. "There were things that came out of its mouth. Like balls of ice."

Graham's eyes scanned the sky. "O.k. You have about eight minutes to tell me everything you can about this demon, 'cause if that chopper doesn't get here soon..."

Riley looked down. Well, shit.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
The thing is?

I could've gone out on a day like that. If that was my last day on earth, I would've died a happy man. I mean, hell, it's only a matter of time, I figure. So sitting there with my best friend in the world? With the taste of Buffy still on my lips? After a brutal fight where I gave as good as I got?

Couldn't have asked for a better day.

I should've known.

Should've fucking known.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
Riley woke up cursing – his arms felt like they were on fire. A doctor came in and asked him some questions – name, rank, who the president was, what year it was.

"Trust me," Riley said, eyes closed tight against the pain, "my memory isn't the problem."

The doctor asked, "Can you feel your arms?"

"Shit, yeah. Wish I couldn't."

"Hands?"

Riley nodded.

"We don't know a lot about what this thing does, but as far as I can tell, you beat it. Whatever this is seems to act quickly – two hours ago you had third degree burns; now it's barely a bad sunburn. We'll keep you overnight to be sure, but I see no reason you can't go home tomorrow."

Graham stood up as the doctor was talking; he had been sitting in the corner of the room. He pulled the chair up next to the bed and waited for the doctor to leave before saying, "I still can't believe they gave you Sunnydale."

"Kind of surprised myself."

"Yeah. I'll bet." Graham fixed his eyes on Riley's. "So you're back with Buffy. Already."

"Hey, Graham," Riley said, wincing as he sat up. "Nice to see you. How've you been? Gee, thanks – I'm glad I didn't die, too."

"How long?"

So diversion wasn't going to work. How about outright hostility? "Is this really your business?"

"It is if you lose your shit again. Once going through that was enough." His tone softened as he grinned. "And yeah, I'm glad you didn't die. Just wish you wouldn't keep coming quite so close."

"What does this thing do?" Riley asked, looking down at his arms.

Graham said, "First guy we found? Arms, head and torso were totally black. Everything inside frozen through and through. Next guy we actually watched it happen – started with his hand, worked its way up to his shoulder; within thirty minutes he couldn't talk; ten minutes later he was dead."

"Shit."

"Tell me about it. We've lost seven guys so far – you're the first one that made it. If the burns reach an open wound..." Graham shook his head. "It seems to feed off warmth. We actually managed to get the last two guys back here before they died. The lab coats just figured out that ice slowed the burns down. You were the first one we tried it on."

Riley sat back against the pillows. "Well, thanks. Damn." That had been much closer than he had come in a while.

Graham leaned back in the chair. "So Buffy. How long has it been? Two whole weeks?"

"Graham, I really don't need this. Not from you."

"Just saying..."

"Well don't."

They were quiet for a few minutes before Riley asked, "You heard from Sam?"

"Was wondering when-"

"Graham – just cool it, o.k.? That's between Sam and me." Riley looked down. "And the stuff with Buffy – it's not the same as it was when I left. She's not the same. Neither am I."

"I know. And I'd rather not see you back there."

Considering how much Graham had put up with, Riley couldn't really blame him. "That makes two of us." He stretched his arms out in front of him. His hands felt stiff but he could move them; and his skin stung, but the pain was much less intense than it had been, even just a few minutes before. "So I'm the guinea pig, huh? They don't know if the burns will come back?"

Graham shrugged. "Nope. For all they know, your brain could just totally freeze on you. Or you could drop dead. No way to know."

"Great. Something to look forward to."

"Don't you love this job? Every day's a risk," Graham said, grinning.

"Exactly!" Riley said. "Which is why it only took two weeks."

Graham just shook his head.

Riley looked around for his cell phone. "I should give her a call. I said I'd be back tonight."

Graham stood. "She's probably already asleep. She called about an hour ago. Was pretty pissed when I told her what happened – something about rushing in with no back up?" He smiled as Riley had the decency to look contrite. "She wanted you to know that patrolling was a bitch and she could've used a massage, but she'd just have to settle for a long, hot bath."

Riley knocked his head back against the wall. "That was evil."

With a totally innocent look on his face, Graham said, "And Dawn is spending the night at Janice's."

"You're making that up."

Graham laughed. "Nah. Couldn't have come up with that on my own." He headed out the door. "Hope you're sleeping better these days. I can warn the nurses if you want."

"Thanks, but I'm fine. The dream's not coming tonight."

Graham nodded, his face serious again. "Just be careful this time around, o.k.?"

Riley smiled as he closed his eyes and sank down against the pillows. "Don't worry. This time's going to be different."

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
Should've fucking known.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
Riley woke up the next morning in a great mood. The burns were completely gone. The doctor had no idea of long-term effects or prognosis, but Riley had been tagged enough times by now that the uncertainty no longer bothered him. If he could walk on his own and talk on his own, he figured he was good to go.

He and Graham were heading to the local diner for breakfast – had the best French toast for miles around. Well, o.k., the only French toast for miles around, but it was still damn good. After breakfast, Graham would drive Riley back to the SUV which was still at the park in Death Valley. From there Riley would head back to Sunnydale. He'd have to come back for a debriefing and the doctor wanted to see him again, but not for at least another week.

They had already been on the road for an hour when Xander called.

Graham watched the veil come over Riley's eyes. It was a look Graham had seen too many times in the past year; one he never wanted to see again. Cold and hard; jaw tightening and knuckles turning white. The voice catching as Riley turned and said, "Get me home, now."

Fuck.

Graham pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. For as much shit as Graham gave Riley about Buffy, Riley had seemed really happy. And he deserved that. He deserved to finally be happy again. Not to lose her so suddenly. Not so soon after finding her again.

Riley didn't say another word for the rest of the trip. Just sat there and looked out the window. Graham knew Riley wasn't seeing a damn thing.

 
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 
I had a lot of time yesterday to think about the day she died. None of them talk about it. How could they? How could you possibly relive that? Say the words out loud and make it happen again?

The thing is, Dawn deserves so much more. She should have her mom and her sister. A kid can't do it alone; it's hard enough as it is.

I mean...

God, I can't even breathe.

I mean – how do you move on? How do you watch the woman you love die in your arms? How do you let her spirit drift away knowing there's nothing you can do to hold on? How do you possibly move on?

Willow... Sweet, kind, innocent Willow. How do you possibly move on?

And Xander. To see that light go out twice. Three times, actually. Maybe you get to the point where you just expect her to come back. Maybe you just expect some miracle will bring her back again. How else do you watch her do what she does every day?

Jesus. Tara's dead. I hope it was quick. I hope the last thing she saw was Willow's smile. I hope she never knew what hit her.

Buffy... Shit.

The thing is – it must have pissed her off. A gun. Warren fucking Mears' gun.

She should have at least been given the chance to fight. To go down in a face off against a thousand year old vampire. Or jumping off a tower to save her sister and stop the end of the world. Hell, even saving Angel. But not like this. It shouldn't end like this.

The thing is... I thought we'd have a little more time. I wasn't even thinking long-term here. Just taking it one day at a time. Just one more fucking day.

The thing is yesterday was...the kind of day you dream about. You get the girl, you hit the open road, you go out in a blaze of glory. The odds are good I won't make it to thirty, you know? So if I had to pick a day, that would have been it. Yesterday was so...

It would've been the day to go. It was that kind of day.

So fucking great. Couldn't have asked for a better day. Probably didn't deserve it.

But I should've known...it was never meant to be. The light can only burn for so long. You can't hold on to a spirit.

Doomed from day one.

I should've known.

I should've fucking known.

 
THE END