destructo-girl.com

"Celestial Light "

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

A few minutes later, having said their good-byes to the girls, Buffy and Riley were in the car and pulling out of the driveway.

"All that stuff about Liam and the girls meant I get you again tonight, didn't it?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, I want you," she said, reaching her hand out to him. "Don't ever doubt that."

He glanced down at their hands and then back at the road. "So tell me about this living with Angel thing."

No biggie, she says. The love of her life and living with him is no biggie. "His hotel? After Spike?"

"You moved in with Angel while you were still with Spike," Riley said. "How exactly did Spike feel about that?"

She looked out the window remembering Spike's outrage when she was moving to L.A. To Angel's hotel, to be exact. His reaction wasn't a surprise by any means, but she still cringed when she thought about it. By that point, though, they both knew things weren't going to last, and she figured she didn't have much to lose.

"I'll bet," Riley said. Not that he felt too sorry for Spike, but still, ouch. "How long?"

"Eight years?" Riley asked, sitting back in the seat. Hell of a long time. "And you never…?"

"Never what? Slept together?" Buffy replied, an amused smile on her face. "Is that what you're going for here?"

He looked at her. "Why don't you want to talk about him?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. All these years later and she still kept it inside.

She looked down at Riley's hand in hers remembering a very similar conversation she'd had with Angel, except about Riley. It had taken her years before she could even talk about him, especially to Angel. Not that there hadn't been plenty of opportunity, starting with the night of her mother's funeral when Angel wanted to know why he was the one sitting there instead of her boyfriend.

The year that followed Riley's leaving had been so horrible, that it wasn't until months after he came back with Sam that she fully understood the impact he'd had on her life. The impact he could have had if he had stayed.

That realization had been part of the Reawakening, which is how she thought of the summer after Tara's death - when she started to make sense of things, finally taking a step back and actually looking at everything around her instead of feeling responsible for it all. Not until that summer, with Willow in England, with Xander and Anya avoiding each other, and with Spike out of the picture, not until then did she really start to think about her life - what had become of it, what she wanted it to be. And finally, after what seemed like forever, she started to get her life back on track, thinking how proud Riley would have been as she started her new job at Hellmouth High, as Xander called it. How happy Riley would have been that she and Dawn had stopped being at each other's throats all the time, but were instead watching each other's backs.

He probably wouldn't have been quite so supportive of her letting Spike back into her life, but Spike had been different; wounded - kind of like where she had been the year before - teetering on the brink. She couldn't help but hold her hand out and lead him to surer ground.

It took a long time to get beyond the anger, to deal with all the things Spike had done, but slowly, gradually, she came to know the man beneath the monster, the man with a heart that didn't beat, but with a newly found soul. And she fell in love.

The darkness, though, was never far away - as she strived to distance herself from it, he seemed to need to hold on to its threads. She had tried to ignore this, tried to pretend it wasn't there - and for a few years, she actually succeeded, thriving on the heat, the intensity of what they had. But intensity wasn't always a good thing, and when things got bad, they got really bad.

Not that she had ever feared for her life, because when it came down to it, she had no doubt she could take him; but she feared for her soul. The longer she stayed with Spike, the harder it was to keep herself from being sucked back in to that deep, black hole. She still hadn't been able to break things off, although subconsciously, she was now realizing, that was probably why she decided to move to L.A. for good - knowing that being with Angel, even if it wasn't with Angel, would be the final straw for Spike. Making the decision without ever having to actually face it. Taking the easy way out.

She had been living at Angel's hotel for almost six months when the break-up finally came. An awful break-up, mostly because of its lack of awfulness - no fireworks, no tears, no passion. Just an incredibly civil conversation ending with Spike saying, 'Call me when you figure it out, luv. If you figure it out.'

And she really tried to figure it out, what exactly was wrong with her. Why she couldn't make it work, not even with Spike, after all they had been through. Angel left because what they had was too dangerous. Riley left because he had needed more than she was able - willing? - to give. But with Spike - the second time at least - she tried to do everything right. And even that wasn't enough.

It was Angel who, in one particularly long, brutal talk at his kitchen table, had pointed out that maybe that was the whole problem - that she had been trying so hard. That maybe deep down she had been trying to find something that wasn't there. And maybe the reason she had stayed with Spike so long was that she was afraid to admit she'd made a mistake. That she was hoping to find with Spike the kind of relationship she'd had with Riley, something with steadiness and trust and normalcy. Or maybe she really did want what Spike offered, but was still fighting it and driving him away out of some kind of guilt. Either way, she was going to have to make up her mind what exactly she was looking for because otherwise she'd never find it and may as well just give up now.

Gee, Angel, thanks, she remembered thinking. But as upset as she had been, she knew he was right and that she had absolutely no idea of what she wanted. The exhilaration and passion and unpredictability of Spike? Or the warmth and generosity and kindness that Riley had given her?

Or could it just possibly be that she still wanted Angel, who had been a part of her life for so long? Who had been the standard by which she judged every other man since she was fifteen. Who was sitting right in front of her, looking at her with those eyes burning into her…

Too much. Too overwhelming. She had gotten up to leave only to turn and have him right behind her. Taking her into his arms and making love to her with his hands and mouth and finally, coming inside her, kissing away her tears because they both knew that this would never happen again. That the time for pure happiness was long gone, clouded with the reality of time and history; finally acknowledging that this love was no longer meant to be.

'Well, that answers that,' he had said with a sad laugh, reaching to turn off the bedside lamp. And later, after it was clear that neither of them would be able to sleep that night, 'So, I know the deal with Spike, but what really happened with Riley? Why don't you ever talk about it?'

And ironically, lying there in Angel's bed she had finally been able to bare her soul, letting all of it out - the anger at Riley's betrayal, the shock and hurt she felt in her gut when she thought of him with that woman - vampire - in his arms, the shame and sorrow when she realized she had driven him there, and the ache that she still felt when she thought of the way his arms felt around her, something she would never feel again. Everything she hadn't been able to tell Willow or Dawn or Xander or Giles. Only then had the healing begun.

Six months earlier she had broken free of her life as a Slayer, but it wasn't until that night that she had been reborn.

Unsurprisingly, things with Angel were never the same after that night. The surprising part, though, was that things became less awkward. The unreleased tension that had defined their relationship for so many years had suddenly morphed into something much more comfortable - student and teacher, patient and healer. Soul mates but not lovers.

Over the years he had taught her so much about where she came from and where she was going, as she did for him. And in doing so, they had both realized that for that one period in time their paths had crossed, but ever since then they'd been heading in different directions. His role now was one of redemption whereas hers was one of reward.

She had always joked that they could just stay in limbo and live happily ever after in an unfulfilled sort of way, but they both knew that eventually it wouldn't be enough. That eventually someone or something would pull them apart. And that whatever it was would be something worth moving towards, but she would always regret what it was she was leaving behind.

Maybe someday she'd be able to explain all that to Riley, but for now "complicated" was the best she could do when it came to describing her relationship with Angel. There had been something else, though, that had come out of all those years together. Something that she hadn't realized was happening over the course of countless hours of conversation but that had happened nonetheless.

She turned to look at Riley in the seat next to her. "He helped me figure out what I wanted."

"This. Us," she replied, squeezing his hand. "You." Looking away from him she continued, "It just never occurred to me it might actually happen."

He was glad they had reached the exit for her house. Glad that it was only a couple more miles after the highway. Because he needed to be touching her, feeling her, to be engulfed by her - anything to prove that she wasn't some apparition sent here to play with his mind. To torture him by saying all the right things, telling him things that he hadn't even dared to dream about.

Pulling to a stop on the street in front of her house, he turned to her, only to find that she had already slid across the seat, not even bothering to wait for him to turn off the ignition before she was kissing him. There was nothing gentle about her touch - fueled by raw hunger, she was pulling at him, at his clothes, not meeting any resistance because he wanted her just as badly.

His hands on her hips, he lifted her until she was straddling his legs. As she pressed her body to his, she said, "I knew I should have worn a skirt tonight." She pushed against him, making him groan. "Just imagine what we could be doing right now."

He leaned his head back, watching her smile as she moved above him. "Guess I should start carrying condoms around with me. I don't think I need any more kids."

She shrugged. "I don't know. A while now. But it seemed pretty much out of the question until, well, yesterday."

He looked away. Sitting here, talking to the woman he would have given his life for, would have married without a second thought if she had given any indication that she had any interest whatsoever, and she was asking why it seemed strange that now, sixteen years later, she was suddenly talking about bearing his children. Of which he already had four, by the way.

"What am I thinking? Sorry," he said when he realized he had done it again. "I just… God. I don't know. You just surprised me." Which was as much of an answer as he was going to give because he didn't even want to contemplate more years of sleepless nights, potty training, and, God forbid, the Wiggles, not to mention dealing with adolescence when he was old enough to be getting senior citizen discounts. Oh right, and the thing about them just getting back together - yesterday.

"Buffy," he said, trying to get his mind around this. "Before last night I hadn't even…" He looked at her sitting there. How on earth was this happening?

He looked away again. "Sam and I never actually talked about it. Not the first time at least. It just sort of happened."

Riley looked up sharply. "You think maybe we could stick to one big thing at a time?"

He rolled down the windows. It was suddenly getting very warm. Not in a good way.

"Why was Nepal a big thing?" he said. "Because seeing you in Sunnydale wasn't exactly the best thing for my marriage. Because Sam decided she wasn't going to let it bother her. Because if either one of us had been thinking right and not so concerned about what was happening to us, we would have realized that she had missed her pills for three days straight and she was going to get pregnant before we were ready."

"Oh," Buffy said quietly. And then, "Wasn't that kind of risky what with being in the jungle and all? I mean, you have to take them at the same time every day or else they don't work and I'd think it would be kind of hard to stick to a…" Her voice trailed off as she realized Riley was glaring at her.

"Sorry." So maybe that hadn't been the most helpful thing to say. She looked out the window and said, "The twins weren't planned?"

"I didn't say… I never said I didn't want more, I just hadn't really thought about it. It's not something I ever expected to be thinking about again. I…" He sat back against the seat. "Kids change everything. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I want a family some day. I know that. And I'm not getting any younger, so if it's going to happen, it needs to happen soon."

"Well then I guess it's pretty lucky that you ran into me yesterday because otherwise you'd have to actually invest some time and energy into a relationship with someone who wasn't a vampire."

Buffy recoiled from the bitterness in his tone. "You think I saw you and said, 'Oh, goody, now I can cancel that appointment at the sperm bank'?" She folded her arms across her chest. "Trust me, I've had plenty of men who would have been happy to donate their services over the last few years."

Sighing, she said, "I know. I'm sorry." She reached across the seat and held out her hand. "You meant that this just all seems too easy. Like we got caught in someone else's fairy tale and any minute now the curtain's going to come crashing down on our heads. I keep thinking that, too." She closed her eyes, relieved when he took her hand in his. "I've spent my whole life worrying about that curtain. I'm tired of it. Maybe this isn't going to work and your kids will hate me or we'll decide that we don't even like each other any more. And I know it's only been a day, but still, I can't help but feel that someone up there finally decided that I get to have a dream come true at least once in my lifetime."

He still didn't seem totally convinced, but the look in his eyes had softened. That was a good sign at least.

"Look," she continued, "I know this is really big - scary, too. And after watching Anya go through it twice, after hearing about how not thrilled Sam was to be pregnant-"

"Wow. Sarah must really like you," Riley said, a smile escaping. "She's usually the one asking the questions, not answering them." He looked out the window. "She said Sam didn't like being pregnant?"

"Well, not exactly. More that Sam seemed to be angry a lot. Mostly at you and Graham," Buffy replied. "Since you're laughing, I take it that Sarah got it wrong."

"No," Riley said, shaking his head and still smiling. "Not wrong. Just not exactly right, either."

Sam had definitely spent the better part of all three pregnancies pissed off, but not because she didn't like being pregnant - she had actually loved it. More than she had expected. It was just the part where the doctors decided she was high risk and told her they'd put her on bed rest for six months if she even tried to do anything physical, including sex, something Sam happened to be particularly fond of. And Sam did not take kindly to being denied anything - not by the doctors who ordered her to slow down; not by Graham who ordered her to listen to the doctors; and especially not by Riley who refused to go against any of them.

"She just wasn't someone who liked to follow orders," he said, looking back at Buffy. "Sound like anyone you know?"

"I can follow orders. Sometimes," she protested. "I gave you the phone tonight when Angel said he wanted to talk to you."

"Right. And I'm sure you did that because he told you to and not because he was annoying you in any way."

"Yes, it's different. That was a phone call; this is everything: what you can eat, when you need to sleep, if you can even…train. And forget about any kind of normal life after the baby's born - feedings every two hours, day and night; diapers full of stuff more toxic than anything you've ever seen come out of a demon; pacing for hours on end with a screaming infant in your arms…" He shook his head.

She moved across the seat again, getting up on her knees so that she could look him in the eye. Brushing her hand through his hair, she said, "You loved every single minute of it, didn't you?"

"Are you kidding?" He glanced away and smiled when he realized that there was absolutely no conviction behind the words because she was right. The love and awe he felt for Sam as she carried new life inside her. The utterly trusting look in a newborn's eyes looking into his. Even the cries of an infant communicating in the only way possible. Some of the diapers he probably could have done without, but still… "Yeah. I guess I did. But teenagers are a whole other-"

"You are such a big sap," she said, leaning in and kissing him. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have a family with."

He put his arms around her, hugging her tightly as her lips moved from his mouth to his neck. It was a little too soon to concede, but, hell, he had always wanted a big family. "Is there a timeline I should know about here? Some master plan?"

"No big plan, just something to think about," she mumbled between kisses. "Mmmm… Is that a cell phone vibrating in your pocket or are you really happy to see me?"
Laughing, he tried to reach his pocket, finally resorting to physically removing her from his lap so he could get it. "Finn." He batted away her hand, unsuccessfully trying to glare at her. "Liam. Hey - the prodigal son. So you blew us off for a night dive, huh? No, it's not too late - I was up."

She smirked and raised her eyebrows. "You certainly were," she whispered. "See you upstairs."

Buffy grabbed her purse off the floor and backed out of the car, closing the door quietly behind her as she blew him a kiss. There was no question that he really did love it - being a father, she thought as she crossed the street and unlocked the garage door, leaving it slightly open behind her. She had no doubt that he was pretty happy with what she had been doing right before the phone rang, but the way his eyes lit up when he realized it was his son on the line left no doubt in her mind how much he loved his kids.

Which was a good thing, considering he spent nearly every waking, non-working hour with them between baseball practices, soccer games, and Sunday night dinners cooked by all four, with Annie usually serving as the task master. Not to mention the Friday nights that were devoted to each kid in turn, guaranteeing that they got at least a few hours a month of one-on-one time.

All of which he had told her about in the car on the ride over to the soccer game earlier that day. She could see how he had managed to go eight years without dating given that schedule. If it weren't for the meeting in Toronto, it could easily be eight more years before they spent another night together. She was planning to make this one count.

She shed her clothes as she went up the stairs, leaving a trail behind her for Riley to find. Digging through her drawers for something sexy, but not shocking (she had never quite managed to get rid of some of the things Spike had given her over the years), she finally gave up and grabbed the halter-top she had been wearing that morning and put it on again.

The underwear she had on would have to do because everything else was either dirty or was just too ratty - had it really been that long since she had cared about someone seeing what she had on underneath the rest of her clothes?

She was still staring unhappily at her underwear drawer when she heard the stairs creak and the door open.

"I think you dropped this," Riley said, holding up the bra she had flung over the banister. "And these." He let the rest of her clothes fall out of his hands as he walked over to her.

"That was fast," she said. "I was planning to be all prettily arranged in bed before you actually made it upstairs. But I don't seem to have the right wardrobe any more."

"Then I think we might have to call it quits." He smiled. "The right wardrobe is the most important thing in my book. In fact," he said, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, "If you don't have the right wardrobe, you may as well not be wearing anything."

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down and sitting next to her.

She reached up and grabbed his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Moaning softly as his hand found her knee and then slowly moved up her thigh, teasingly brushing against her cotton panties before traveling up underneath her shirt. Her eyes closed as his fingers grazed her back; he undid the knot and loosened the ties.

"Now what was it I was supposed to be doing with this again?" he said, smiling as he remembered her words on the soccer field.

He pulled the top away from her body, letting the ends of the strings dangle and dance across her stomach and chest as he reached down for her hands and pulled them up until they were resting on the pillows above her head. Threading the top and strings around her wrists and hands, he pulled the ties tightly into a knot.

"Interesting design," he said, nodding at the headboard as he pinned her hands down and secured them by tying the halter's strings around a slat carved into the wood.

This, of course, had been one of the things she had in mind when she bought the bed, thinking how much Spike would have enjoyed its nooks and crannies. It had been incredibly difficult to keep a straight face talking to the staid, ancient salesman who had gone on in detail about the ways the "piece" would fit in her home. That although it was bigger than most beds she would come across, proper placement would ensure its integration into any decorating scheme. The only placement she had been concerned about was the placement of her body beneath whomever she decided to share her bed with.

She tugged on the strings, smiling and stretching languorously; he had tied it tightly enough to hold her in place, but not so tight that it would draw blood, which was a nice change. Spike had always liked the blood.

He grinned and leaned down, lightly touching his lips to hers, deepening the kiss as his hand roamed down her body and came to a rest between her legs. Moving away from her mouth and down to her throat, he was surprised for a moment by her sudden reaction to his kiss at the base of her neck - twisting and moaning, harshly thrusting her hips against his hand. His fingers slipping inside her brought about a sharp cry and another moan as he slowly pumped them in and out.

From the sounds she was making, he would have been afraid he was hurting her - if it were anyone else. But Buffy was different. So was he, for that matter - there probably weren't a lot of people walking around who knew that a vampire's bite didn't just leave behind a permanent scar. There was something that went far deeper - an animalistic, uncontrollable desire that went far beyond rational thought. The bruised skin always a reminder that you had been one step away from that fate worse than death, a terrifying, horrifying thought made all the more so by the fact that with one touch of that mark you ceased to care. One touch and all humanity slipped away, leaving behind a carnal being whose only wish was for pleasure. And maybe a little pain.

He pulled away from the scar. Maybe it had been too much, he thought as he let his fingers ease out of her.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking up, startled by the dark, wild look in her eyes. Sam had never mentioned that look.

It took a few short moments for Riley to strip the rest of his clothes off and get the condom on. Pulling her underwear off, he spread her legs, a little more roughly than he had intended, overcome by the hunger in his own blood. Fighting to stay in control - he could feel the scars on his neck and arms pulsing and burning - he hovered over her, savoring her body beneath him before dipping his head down. He ran his tongue along her deep folds, nipping at her clit and eliciting a low, throaty groan from deep within her. Her body writhing, he held her in place with his hands on her waist, slowly planting kisses on her hip and up her side, lingering as he reached the curve of her breast. Licking, lapping and finally tugging her nipple with his teeth, his hands holding her wrists down, the knots securing her to the headboard having long since given way. A quick, deep kiss at her mouth and then back at her neck, touching his teeth to her scar as he entered her, ready for the violent response this time, meeting her thrusts with his own. Not holding back either in terms of strength or roughness, pounding against her, going deeper and deeper inside as her cries became more frequent and frenzied.

Her strength overpowered his as she pulled her hands out from underneath his and grabbed onto his waist, rising up to meet him and pulling him flush against her body, wanting him as deep inside as it was possible to go. He snaked his hand between their bodies - back to that sweet spot, flicking his tongue against her neck and thumb against her clit at the same time, keeping the pressure there as she screamed and shuddered, taking him with her as she came.

"Guess I won't be wearing that top again," she said, breathless as she untangled the shreds of material from her hands. "Nice that the bed held up, though." She rarely lost control like that - it had only ever happened with Spike. Spike, who had taken great pleasure in teaching her the darker side of sex, and who had taken full advantage of the fact that with the exception of a wooden stake, they were both pretty much indestructible.

Her sex life since then had been spectacularly unsatisfying, and more than once it had occurred to her to make some kind of deal with Angel so she could, at least occasionally, be with a man that wouldn't be scared of her if she really let go. But that, of course, would have been wrong, with a capital "w."

She grinned sheepishly. "I honestly couldn't tell you." She shifted as he rolled off of her. "How did you know-"

"Is there a trash can in here?" he asked, hoping she wasn't going to pursue that line of questioning. He wasn't quite ready to talk about that part of his life with Sam, nor did he want to mention how he knew that the scar wasn't just dead skin.

She pointed to the floor on the other side of the bed. There was no way she was letting him off that easily. That hadn't been something he had just stumbled upon. Spike said it had something to do with the whole sire/childe thing. That even if someone hadn't been turned the bite would always be with them, in their blood. It was why it was the only scar she had, despite the infinite number of times her body had been broken. Even Slayers couldn't completely heal.

And she knew, of course, that Riley had been bitten - as if she could ever forget. But this was something different. "You slept with them, didn't you?"

So much for trying to change the subject. And there was no question of who the "them" referred to. He pulled the sheet up over his waist and leaned back against the pillow, turning to her as he rested his head on his hand. Trying to gauge her expression in the murky moonlight that the skylight let in.

For a brief moment he thought about lying. Probably would have if this conversation had been happening years earlier, but she deserved the truth. Even if it meant her kicking him out of her bed and her life forever.

She didn't answer right away. Sitting back against the headboard, she brought a pillow up to her chest and hugged it. "I guess I always thought it didn't get that far. I mean, yeah, stupid, I guess, seeing as you were half naked when I saw you that night, but still-"

"Buffy, no," he said, sitting up and taking her hand as he realized what she was thinking. "Not in Sunnydale. God, no. I would never do that to you. I never wanted that from them. Not when I had…" His voice faltered. As though he had ever really had her. That had been the whole problem. "Not when I was with you."

"No?" she asked, tentatively, the confidence and assurance she had built over the years precariously close to slipping away.

"No. Of course not. I only ever wanted you." He could tell she was close to crying, and he wanted more than anything to take her into his arms, but he wasn't sure if she'd let him. Decided not to try and find out.

Right. If he only ever wanted her how was it she had caught him in some other woman's arms. "It was so powerful. Something I couldn't-"

"No," she said, bluntly, cutting him off. "I understand the biting. I get that part." And she had long since come to terms with why he had sought that out. The role she had played in that. "But then how did the… How did the other part happen? When did it happen?"

The "how" part was still a mystery to him. Not that he didn't understand the logistics of it - man, woman. Or rather man, female vampire. It was how he had slipped so far down that he still didn't get. Or the part where it had happened so quickly.

Two weeks after they landed in Belize. Stuck in Belmopan while the Big Wigs ironed out some territorial dispute between Belize and Guatemala. Roaming the streets alone, unable to avoid listening to Graham's phone call to Sarah in the tiny hotel room that they'd been given to share, but unable to stomach the love pouring over the lines.

There had been two of them in the bar he wandered into. They worked as a team; not a very good one - he knew he was being played - but, God, were they beautiful. Tall and tan. Long black hair piled high on top of their heads; huge, brown eyes that made it impossible to look away. With the exception of the captivating eyes, the complete opposite of Buffy.

He had been so out of it that he hadn't even realized they were vampires. Thought they were just a couple of college girls, trying out their English on some unsuspecting American soldier - a gee whiz soldier who'd be paying more attention to two gorgeous girls than to where his wallet was disappearing to. But it wasn't his wallet they were looking for.

Riley figured sex would be part of the deal. The fact that he didn't really care should have tipped him off to how messed up he was - sex had never been something he took lightly - but at that point he had decided that doing everything the way you were supposed to hadn't gotten him anywhere; maybe there was something to being a cold, hard son of a bitch. It certainly hadn't hurt Spike.

Wait 'til Graham hears this, Riley remembered thinking as they brought him to their apartment, plying him with cheap wine. One of them kissing him while the other knelt in front of him. What guy hadn't had this fantasy? And who would have believed he, of all people, was actually doing it. Twins, for God's sake.

Leaning back on the couch, lost in what Graciela had been doing between his legs, he hadn't been paying quite as much attention to Nicola's wandering hands and mouth. He hadn't quite noticed that Nicola had pinned his arms back in such a way that it was almost impossible for him to move.

And he certainly hadn't noticed how strong she was until her teeth sank into his neck as he came, bucking into Graciela's mouth, finally realizing that she had never once paused to take a breath, wasn't breathing through her nose. That Nicola's kisses and obvious arousal hadn't been accompanied by the heavy breathing that was part of most of the make-out sessions he'd been privy to. Not that these thoughts came to him in any rational way - more like little snippets of clarity as he could feel his life draining away.

Even though he knew that he was close to dying, he almost didn't care. Not because he was ready to die, although he was probably more on the brink than he ever thought he'd be, but because this was unlike anything he had ever known. And he and Buffy had had some pretty heady experiences, but still, nothing like this. Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt - worse than the bites he'd gotten in Sunnydale, worse than Adam's skewer through the rib cage, worse than the piece of glass that he'd plunged into his own chest - white-hot, piercing, mind-numbing pain. But the pain was nothing compared to the ecstasy. He had never felt anything like it in his life. Beyond intense; beyond the scope of anything he had ever even imagined.

Every nerve in his body tingling with life; every cell on fire, burning from inside. Overcome by ravenous desire for more touch. Enraptured, understanding now why people begged to be turned. Anything - he would do almost anything - to feel this again.

The mistake they had made was that they didn't kill him right then. And that they didn't think he spoke Spanish.

He was as close as possible to being passed out without actually being unconscious when, through his haze, he heard them trying to decide whether to turn him or to just kill him. Nicola, apparently wanted her turn - she hated it when they paid more attention to Graciela than they did to her, even if it was only because of the blow job - and she always thought it was better to make the decision while she was astride her begging victim, having already given him a hint of the power she held. Or so she said as she pushed Graciela out the door, telling her to find another plaything for the night.

He somehow found the strength to drive the stake through her chest. And by the time Graciela got back, he had recovered enough that he could actually walk to the door when he heard her coming, and stake her before she knew what hit her.

That had been the first time, but not the last; he developed rules as he went along, the two main ones being never let them tie you up and never let them be on top. Despite a couple of close calls, he had managed to not only stay alive, but to keep his extracurricular activities secret from the rest of the squad, knowing that at worst they thought he hit the bars a little too often. Not minding that they thought his late night forays back to camp had been because of alcohol.

It took several months to catch up to him, in some run down shack in the Philippines. He had gotten cocky, heading out when he knew there were teams still out there finishing up their rounds. It was pure luck that it was Sam who had stumbled upon him during a routine patrol and not one of the other guys, mostly hard-asses who would have probably put a bullet in his head and then staked him just in case he had turned.

She dragged him out of the bed and threw him up against the wall, whirling around and staking the woman that flew at her before ducking her head out the door and yelling an all clear to the rest of the squad.

She cleaned the blood off his neck and got him dressed, holding him until he could walk again. Getting him to the medics who asked how it was that this soldier had lost so much blood. 'It's a jungle out there, Doc,' Riley remembered her saying. 'Shit happens.'

It was how he had fallen for her so quickly and so hard. She never judged him, never made him feel like he had to explain, but also never allowed him to make excuses. Just gave him an unwavering support and strength as he struggled to come to terms with everything that had happened.

Glad that in the darkness she couldn't see him blush, he said, "No. It didn't hurt."

"Yeah," she finally said. "I think that's one of the reasons I stayed with Spike so long after things went bad. It was hard to give that up."

"You're actually o.k. with this?" he asked, amazed at how there was no anger there. No disgust.

Dropping the pillow she was holding, she crawled over and snuggled up against him. She was so not o.k. with this, but not for the reasons he thought. More because she knew what he had gone through - the price he'd had to pay for the incredible highs: guilt, shame, hating yourself so much that you wanted to die. Everything she had felt in those first months with Spike.

"I won't judge you, Riley. I'm in no position to do that." She ran her fingers down past his shoulder, stopping at the white marks that stood out in contrast to the tanned skin on the inside of his arm. Bending down, she kissed him, applying more pressure as he groaned and clutched her arm.

"But it's nice to know that I'm not the only person in the world who has this weird, sick turn-on," she said, smiling as she sucked on the skin and felt his hardness against her hip.

"And, you know…" she said, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist. Bending down to the scar that she had noticed on his neck the night before. "When life hands you lemons…"

Before she had a chance to answer he started talking again. She could hear his muffled voice saying, "Annie, I'm not kidding. Change it or you're not going anywhere."

"Oh, right," he said, laughing. "Yeah. She's got on some outfit that barely qualifies as being dressed."

"Exactly. On my nineteen-year-old girlfriend it worked great. When it's my fourteen-year-old daughter-" He cut off as Liam asked him a question. "No - you can't take the skateboard to the game. And don't forget your sweatshirt."

"Yeah. See why I think adding a baby to this mix is a little crazy? What? … No, Jack. No one is having a baby. I was talking about Sam … Yes, I know she's three. That's close enough to being a baby. Kate - help Jack with the rest of this, o.k.? And he doesn't get to touch the oven. Chicken comes out in five minutes if I'm not back yet."

There was silence and then the sound of a door closing before Riley came back on the line. "Buffy? Sorry. I don't spend much time on the phone; I forgot how hard it is to carry on a conversation when they're all around."

"Oh. We were in crisis mode yesterday. I've barely talked to Mom since Wednesday morning."

"Neither. Boyfriends. Annie and Charlie had a huge fight. We set a record - six hot fudge sundaes."

"Are you kidding? I did learn something from you and Sam. So, what did you call about?"

Which, of course, she knew it did. God, was he looking forward to Sunday. "Sorry I missed you," he said. Really sorry. "Next time call the cell phone."

"O.k." She wasn't sure why she had balked at calling him in his office. A little afraid that maybe in the daylight the magic would disappear. And it seemed silly to call him to say she had new underwear. "Your turn - why'd you call me?"

"You did?" She knew she was grinning like an idiot. It had been a long time since so few words had made her so happy. "I missed you last night. My bed seemed so empty."

Riley looked at his watch. Twenty minutes before he and Liam needed to leave for the game. Feeling incredibly guilty that he wanted to spend that twenty minutes talking to Buffy rather than eating dinner with his family, he said, "I guess I need to-"

"Call me tonight? When you get back?" She didn't care how late it was. Just knew that if she couldn't have his body she at least wanted his voice. "Wish me good night?"

"Yeah," he said, softly. "I will." Damn, he wished he didn't need to go another full day before seeing her again. Hanging up with a smile on his face, he opened the door and headed to the chaos in the kitchen.

"You guys are o.k. with Grandma driving you to soccer practice tomorrow, right?" Riley said to Annie and Kate as they sat eating their breakfast. Including Jack and Liam in the next part, he said, "And then Grandpa's treating you all to dinner afterwards. There's plenty of ice cream in the freezer. If you need anything else, just ask-"

"What's your deal, Dad?" Liam asked as he grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator. "You go away all the time. We've got this stuff down."

Overcompensating. Because even though Riley traveled for business fairly often, he had never gone a day early so that he could spend most of that day in bed with his girlfriend.

He gave all the kids hugs and kisses, thanked his parents for yet another few nights of babysitting, and headed out the door. By the time he got to the airport, he had worked himself up into a huge case of guilt. Walking to the gate and checking in, he went through all the reasons why he had no reason to feel guilty. As Liam said, it wasn't as though Riley had never taken a business trip. And when he was home, he tended to spend most of his non-working hours with his kids - probably more than they would have liked, judging by the loud round of complaints every time he suggested a game night. Plus, if you didn't count the four or five painfully awkward blind dates while Jack was still in diapers, Riley hadn't even looked at a woman in ages, much less taken time away from his kids for one.

The thought - and all feelings of guilt - faded away as he came within sight of Buffy, sitting in the corner with a magazine in her lap and laughing at something the man next to her had just said. Back when they were in school, Riley would have wasted no time going over and staking his claim, making sure the other guy knew that she was spoken for. But now he just wanted to appreciate her for a minute when she didn't realize he was watching - the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when it fell across her face. Her tan skin glowing against the white, tailored shirt, unbuttoned low enough for a hint of white lace to be peeking out. The outline of her legs against the long, dark, flowing skirt. And the best part of all - the way her eyes lit up when she saw him walking towards her.

The man was gone by the time Riley reached her. "Hey," he said, sitting down next to her.

"No talk," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it to her chest as she leaned in to kiss him.

"Mmm," he said, not entirely trusting himself to speak. If he had any voice at the moment, it would probably be really squeaky. Like a twelve-year-old boy's.

He let go of her hand and turned to face her. "Are you doing this to me on purpose?" Now actually feeling like that twelve-year-old boy whose dick had suddenly become completely uncontrollable. He was grateful to see that at least his voice worked.

She gave him an evil grin. "Just wanted to make sure you were suitably turned on."

She sat back in the seat and smiled. Picking up her magazine, she said, "So, have you? Done it on a plane?"

He had forgotten how playful Buffy used to be - inexperienced, maybe, when he first met her, but game for just about anything. Of course, when your first time was with a vampire, and then spending however many years with Spike… Riley didn't even want to think about that, but he was sure their life together had been pretty interesting, at the very least.

"Not commercial," he answered, amused by her look of surprise. His years with Sam hadn't exactly been dull, either. "The bathrooms are kind of small."

She closed her magazine and looked up at him. "And the bathrooms on military planes are that much bigger?"

"No," he said, taking the magazine from her and paging through it. "But, you know, lots of camouflage around. You get good at blending in when necessary. How 'bout you?" he asked with a deliberate nonchalance.

"Hmm," he said, trying to pretend he was much more interested in the magazine article.

"Oh, we are so trying this out," she muttered, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Figured as much." He glanced at her, almost laughing at the determined look on her face. "Gotta love a woman who's always up for a challenge."

The airplane thing didn't work quite as well as they had hoped, but it was a lot of fun trying. Too much fun, in fact, seeing as their laughter attracted the attention of a very angry flight attendant.

It took a little more work to placate her than it had the policeman earlier that week, but Riley turned on the charm and played up the college-girlfriend-who-he-hadn't seen-in-almost-twenty-years angle, finally managing to convince her not to report them. He couldn't believe that as he was walking away she actually stuck her phone number in his back pocket.

"Passes all around," Buffy said, showing Riley the slip of paper with the phone number of the man from the airport. "Mine said he'd be up for a threesome. How 'bout yours?"

Riley just shook his head, laughing as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, not opening them again until they touched down half an hour later.

He stopped walking and shook his head. "Gonna show," he whispered as he bent down and kissed her.

His phone rang as they started walking again. "Hey, Jack … Yeah - it was a great flight. Pretty much uneventful," he said, grinning as Buffy squeezed his hand. "Tell everyone I said hi and I'll call tonight … I love you, too."

"He follows my flights on the Web. He's been nervous about my traveling lately."

"Actually, it's pretty normal at this age, or so the doctor tells me. Annie went through it, too. Started having nightmares whenever I'd have to fly. She got over it after a few months; Jack's o.k. as long as I keep checking in when I'm away."

"Nancy Hanover? Yeah, we've worked with her a couple of times. She's good with the civilians. Why?"

"I have an appointment with her on Thursday. Giles set it up for me a few weeks ago. Said she knew about Slayers and stuff."

Riley nodded. "She and Walsh were classmates back in the day. Except, as far as I can tell, Nancy stayed sane," he said, sliding into the back seat of the cab and giving the driver the name of the hotel.

"Oh," Buffy said. "Then maybe I shouldn't mention your name when I ask about birth control pills."

There goes that twelve-year-old boy thing again. "No, probably not." Not that Nancy knew him well enough to really care, but still…

"I don't want to wait that long," she said, pulling him down for a kiss and not letting go until they reached the hotel.

Check-in couldn't have possibly taken longer and the ride in the elevator was excruciatingly slow, with stops on what seemed like every floor.

"I swear," Buffy said under her breath when the key didn't open the door at first, "if that doesn't work, I'm kicking down the door."

Feeling the same way himself, Riley was relieved a few seconds later when the light turned green and there was a clicking sound as the door unlocked. He didn't want to waste a minute of today talking to management about a broken door.

Door open and slammed shut. Bags dropped to the floor. Buffy's arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he pushed her up against the wall. He tugged her shirt out of the waistband of her skirt and managed to unbutton it without tearing it off. Knowing that these weren't the things you were supposed to thank God for, but nevertheless, sending up a silent thanks when he saw that the bra had a front clasp.

"I was hoping this might happen," she said, seeing his eyes light up. "Thought I should be prepared."

She ran her hands through his hair as his mouth went to her breast and his hands to her waist. Working her way down his back, then around front and fumbling with his belt, button, zipper, pushing his pants down just far enough.

Gasping as he felt her wet and warm against his skin, he fought the overwhelming urge to just slip inside, wanting more than anything to forget about things like consequences and responsibility.

Closing his eyes, he nodded. One minute. He leaned his head against her as she guided him in. Groaned as the walls closed tightly around him. Clenched his jaw as she sighed and arched her back. Pulled out quickly because it was just too damn much.

She reached for his wallet and pulled out the condom, dropping to her feet as he put it on, only to find herself back up against the wall seconds later. Lifting her skirt and tilting her hips and oh, God, that felt so good. Her heart was pounding as he drove into her again and again, holding her in such a way so that each stroke rubbed up against… Oh, God.

Not even sure what she was saying at the moment, she moaned and pleaded for him to go faster, harder. Just like that. Uh-huh. Just…like…

"You seem to be missing something," he said, running his hands up her legs and kissing her before easing her down to the floor.

"You were supposed to notice that in the cab," she said, smiling as she dug her underwear out of her purse where she had stashed them after the aborted mile-high club attempt. It wouldn't do any good to be in the meeting tomorrow, rooting around for a pen, only to pull out black lace.

"What do you think about ordering some lunch?" she asked. "I'm hungry. Seem to have worked up an appetite."

"How come I'm the one that has to move the bed if you're the one with super-human strength?"

"Because," Buffy replied, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, "I have to change into something a little more comfortable."

He glanced down at her. "That kind of thing is only going to work so many times."

"Yeah, but I'm still within the grace period." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek then grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom.

Smiling as he turned back to the window, he shook his head and started moving furniture, glad that they had a room big enough to accommodate redecoration.

They had gone out for lunch after deciding that the room service menu wasn't really cutting it. As they walked back to the hotel, she opened her arms to the sun, throwing her head back and saying how she couldn't get enough of it. That for years with Spike and Angel she had wanted so much to just go out for a walk on the beach as the sun rose and the rays kissed the sand. Or at high noon, to sit on the edge of a fountain, feet dangling in the cold water while the sun warmed her back.

Not that she couldn't do those things alone, which she sometimes did. But not being able to share that began to take its toll, a constant reminder that there were two different worlds, and very few people lived in both. At least not successfully.

It had irritated her that even just thinking about the sun could set her off on that whole questioning of her existence thing, and when she started to drift down that path, she would try and think back to the time in her life when she lived in the light. To when she shared her bed with a man who didn't turn to ash when the curtains blew open in a soft breeze.

The men that came after Spike couldn't understand why she craved the daylight. At best, they humored her; at worst, they complained about yet another walk as the sun set And not one of them ever followed through on going with her to Mexico - to a place where the patio doors opened up to the ocean. Where the bedroom had no walls, only shades. Where she had spent an incredible weekend, bathed in warmth and love and pure contentment. Ages ago.

Hadn't thought much about it at the time, just thought it was the best birthday present he had ever had. But in years of traveling to the world's most exotic locales, he had yet to find someplace as magical as that had been. In his memories, it was paradise, but thinking back on it now, it seemed more likely that it had been such a carefree time in their lives, that anything seemed possible, even Heaven on earth.

Sam hadn't quite gotten the sunlight thing either, not that she ever complained. She never, however, needed it as proof that she hadn't succumbed to the darkness. But Riley did. He understood why Buffy saw daylight as a haven. One of the few places she could go that they couldn't. And somehow, even though the demons could roam freely 24/7, they were never quite as scary. It was the vampires that set your heart on edge. They were the ones that got under your skin, into your blood. But even they couldn't touch you in the sun.

Which, of course, went for Angel and Spike, too. They had never been able to see her outside of the dark. Never been able to touch a strand of her hair, set on fire at sunset. Never traced the dancing shadows on her skin as the leaves shifted on a cool spring morning. Did they remember what the sun felt like? Did they know what it was like to have this angel framed by celestial light hovering above you, whispering your name? If you could live forever, but not have that? Wouldn't be worth it.

"Were you always this bossy?" he yelled back as he pushed the bed against the wall.

He pulled the drapes away from the window, glad that on this Sunday afternoon, not too many people would be in the high-rise office buildings across the street. It was one thing to be on a deserted beach in the middle of nowhere; totally another to be putting on a show for the office workers of Toronto.

He heard the bathroom door open. "Can we at least keep this one closed?" he asked, holding the sheer curtain up in front of his face as he turned around. "See? Sunlight gets through but no one else can…"

The curtain dropped out of his hand completely unnoticed, as he sat down on the bed. What the hell was it about black lingerie? And stiletto heels. Which should look ridiculous when paired with what was, essentially, a nightgown, but instead just looked like…

"Uh-huh." Funny. He never really thought about the fact that there were words it was possible to say without closing your mouth.

"Oh, I hate these things," she said, stopping halfway across the room so she could reach down and pull off the shoes. "I used to be so much better at the seductive thing."

"Yeah, because with all the sex we've had in the last week I really needed seducing." He laughed and shook his head. Certainly didn't hurt, though.

"Thank you for moving the bed," she said, sitting down next to him and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Anytime," he said, watching as she lay back, a smile dawning as the sun hit her face.

"Don't you love the way it feels?" She held her hand out to him, pulling him towards her.

God, yes, he thought, kissing her, loving the way her hands felt running through his hair. Down his back, to his waist. Pushing his shirt up over his head and twisting so that she was covering his body as he lay on his back.

She pushed herself up so that she was sitting over him. Tracing her finger down the scar on his forehead, she asked, "How'd you get this one?"

"I only have the one - I don't really scar," she said, pushing him back down. Not on the outside at least. "So?"

"Bar fight. Do we really have to do this now?" Now, when she was straddling his waist and biting down on her lip in an incredibly maddening way?

"Shhh. This is the first chance I've had to really look at you." She sat back, her eyes stopping briefly at the cluster of scars on his neck before roaming over his chest. "Where'd this one come from?" she asked, pointing to a jagged mark that dipped down below his waistband.

He shook his head. "Lion. Stumbled on her cubs while we were tracking something."

She had been captivating - mesmerizing eyes fixing on her prey. Stalking it. A streak of gold darting out of the tall grass. Smaller than you'd think when seeing her up close, but there was no denying her strength once she had you in her grasp.

He could still remember the struggle to free himself as her claws dug into his side. Literally looking into the jaws of death, yet again; feeling the impact of the darts tearing through her body, lifting it up off of his.

Graham's hands, roughly yanking him up into the jeep. Sam tearing what was left of his shirt away as she tried to stop the bleeding, holding him still as he swore - Goddamn Murphy, always taking his Goddamn time. What the hell was he thinking? Firing the tranq gun after the lion was already on top of Riley instead of while she was pouncing. Could have fucking gotten him killed.

'But he didn't,' Sam had said, her lightly spoken words betrayed by the concern in her eyes. 'He saved your life. You barely even lost any blood, Finn. I've seen worse nosebleeds.'

"What?" The image of Sam disappeared, replaced by Buffy's worried face above him. "Sorry."

She stared at him for a minute and then looked down at his shoulder. "Why an eagle?" she asked.

She was focused on his tattoo - an eagle with its wings spread in flight, four tears falling from its eye. Tiny, nearly illegible letters formed the feathers on the underside of the wings.

"'I will fear no evil, for thou art with me,'" Riley said, watching her try to decipher them. "Or something along those lines."

"Do you believe it? That Sam is still with you? That someone is watching over us?"

How in the world did they get from black lace to the existence of God? "You tell me. You're the one who was there." He took her hand as she shook her head.

He couldn't blame her for not wanting to talk about it - it was inconceivable to him that she had actually been dead. Part of him wanted to know everything - every single detail of what it was like. If she could see the earth below her. If she'd dispatched angels to the Sunnydale graveyards to protect her friends from the evil things they had to face alone. Or if her mother had been waiting for her; if there really was someone on the other side. But despite his curiosity, he still wasn't sure if he wanted answers to those questions. What if this was it? If once you were gone, you were really gone?

He'd always had this vision of Sam protecting them from above; of joining her there someday. Watching over their kids and grandkids and somehow being a presence in their lives even if he was long gone. Fanciful notions that first appeared in Sunday school and were perpetuated over the years, every time he stepped into a church.

And yet how else to explain how the things he had seen were kept at bay? Alternate universes and demon dimensions. Vampires who had lived for thousands of years. Spirits that came alive in the wind. So much evil. There had to be something good balancing it all, keeping the world liveable. Something that gave him the strength to lift his weapon when there was no way he should even be standing. Something that kept Buffy alive all those years, kept him alive.

"Yeah, I believe." He pulled her down kissed her. "How else would it be possible to have you here with me?"

She pulled away, sitting up again. "How else would it be possible for you to still be alive with the beating you've taken over the years?" Her hand made a path from his neck to his waist, lingering at the places where his skin had never quite healed. "Someday you'll have to tell me about the others."

"Someday," he said, his breath catching as her fingers closed around the bulge in his pants and she bent down to kiss his chest.

"I like the way you look in the light," she said, her mouth moving down to his waist, lips caressing the scars she passed.

"It's not fair that after all this time you barely have a mark on you and I look like, well, this." Not that he spent a lot of time looking in the mirror and thinking the Elephant Man looked better, but he certainly wouldn't be winning any beauty contests.

"This is good." Not a monster; a warrior whose entire life was written on his skin - faded, white lines intersecting with angry, red marks. Raised, toughened skin that she had wondered about over the past week, realizing that even with the desk job he was still out there risking his life. That just because he had made it this far didn't mean he would stay safe. But this time she wouldn't let it scare her so much. Couldn't. Because if she did, those walls would go up and she would lose him. And she couldn't go through that again.

She had his pants and boxers off now, noticing his legs hadn't escaped unharmed, either, though the scars there weren't nearly as bad, visible only if you were really searching. Working her way back to his chest, she said, "Any more chips in there that I should know about?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." I.d. chips embedded in his hip, the back of his hand, and the base of his skull - his unit had been the guinea pigs, but now they were standard issue throughout the military. "You know," he said, "if you keep talking, the sunlight's going to be gone."

"Mmm," she said, lifting the short black skirt over her hips and settling back so that he was almost inside her, but not quite. "That probably wasn't very nice of me." She liked that look in his eyes - the one where he was working so hard to keep the animal inside, fighting to be a gentleman and letting her have her way despite his obvious desire to go caveman.

Easing him inside for a second or two at a time, watching him grab at the sheets and clench his jaw and close his eyes while he tried to breathe. Letting him lift his hips but not allowing him to touch.

"Shhhh," she said. She held his shoulders down, brushing his lips with hers. A light kiss to the base of his neck, but moving up further, because she didn't want the animal to come out, she wanted this to be all him.

Even when she didn't touch the places where he'd been marked by the vampires he could barely control himself. Especially after she had been sitting on what had to be the biggest erection ever for the past half hour. He pushed himself up, startling her and toppling her onto her back. Spreading her legs and lowering himself down and groaning as he slid in.

"Riley…wait. You…can't." If only he could, because this was really nice, but... "Riley…"

Right. God, she had to get on the Pill. It was getting too easy to get carried away. He reached past her to his pants on the floor, grabbed for the wallet that was still in the back pocket.

Rolling the condom down slowly, letting her fingers roam, she was making him think that condoms weren't so bad after all.

She pushed him back on the bed. No more teasing. Sinking down onto him and rolling her hips as she placed his hands on her waist. Savoring the way his fingers felt, tracing circles on her stomach and up her chest.

He pulled himself up to sitting, shifting her position slightly as he bent down, his mouth closing over her breast. Smooth, satiny silk; rough, scratchy lace; and her rock hard nipple under his tongue. Cool fabric shimmering against his body as she rocked slowly, he fought the urge to speed things up, wanting to take her hard and fast and not wait a minute longer.

But instead, he eased back down, lying back on the bed, watching her get lost in the sensation. Bringing his hands down to her legs and trying to keep his eyes open so he could see her. Not always managing - it felt too damn good. And the sounds she was making weren't exactly helping him with his control.

She grabbed at his hand, pulling it between her legs. Leaning back, her hands on his thighs as she thrust her hips forward. Crying out as his free hand went to her breast, playing with her there and down below.

She became more and more frenzied, and he tried to just watch. Tried not to follow her there because he wanted to see that look come over her face. Pure abandonment and pleasure. A vulnerability that she rarely let surface.

She was practically purring, moaning his name. Writhing above him, a vision of black lace and golden skin. His hands back on her waist, thumbs applying pressure; pulling her down as he arched up into her, matching her pace.

Her legs began to tremble and he could feel her muscles clenching around him. So tight it was almost painful. Almost. She was suddenly leaning forward, pulling him up, her hand behind his neck. Burrowing her head in his chest, her arms wrapping around him.

He bent down and kissed her neck, harder as her whole body started shaking. She was completely incoherent now. He could hear sounds that might have been his name, but he wasn't really sure. Nearly keening as she came, clutching at him. Breathing heavily on the way down, putting her hands on either side of his face and kissing him. Gently at first, and then attacking him with her tongue. Pressing against his chest, her hands in his hair.

"Open… your eyes," she said, gasping, holding his gaze as she rocked and trembled through a second orgasm.

That was it. Over the edge. He pushed her on her back and climbed on top. Drove into her until he couldn't take it any more, and he was the one screaming. Thanked God that she had the strength to go yet a third time, because her shaking and moaning beneath him sent him so high that he was afraid he would break when he came back down.

"How do you do that?" he asked, running his hand down the leg that was still wrapped around his waist.

"You weren't so bad yourself," she said, kissing him again. Reluctantly releasing him from her hold so he could get up.

"Can't come soon enough," he muttered, settling back into the bed. Already feeling sore where she had been grabbing him. "Did you get stronger?" he asked, rubbing his shoulder.

"Had to make my own mark," she said, noticing the redness of his skin. That one was definitely going to show. She rolled over so that her back was to his chest. Basking in the warmth as the sun shone over them and his body surrounded her. "I love you, Riley."

He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, closing his eyes and letting the moment sear itself on his brain. He kissed the back of her neck, and smiled as she settled into him, drifting off to sleep.

When he woke up, she was sitting in the bed, leaning against the headboard with her legs stretched out in front of her, her hair wet from the shower.

"What time is it?" Riley asked, looking at the shadows on the building across the street.

Buffy smiled and put down what she had been reading. "A little after six. We have dinner reservations at seven so you can sleep some more if you want."

"Anything interesting?" he asked, nodding at the papers in her lap as he sat up.

"Transcripts. The ones you guys sent over. There's really not that much to go on, is there?"

He shook his head. After countless readings, Riley and Graham still had no clue as to how these people had died or where to begin looking for the missing hikers.

"What do these notes mean?" She pointed to something scribbled in the margin. "They're on some other pages, too."

Riley glanced at the familiar handwriting. "Graham thinks that something's missing from the interviews. One of the policeman said they were turning the tape back on again, which seems to indicate that something important was said while they weren't recording."

"Was that the interview with…?" She shuffled through the papers, trying to find the right one.

He shrugged. "We're grasping at straws, but that's all there seems to be in this case."

"She hasn't returned our calls. We're planning on trying to catch her at home tomorrow night after the meeting's over."

"Because of Jessica Cain?" Buffy asked. She hadn't met her client yet, but neither Riley nor Angel had had anything good to say about her.

"Oh," she said, a bit taken aback. She didn't think she'd ever heard Riley say that about anyone. Even Spike had only been an "idiot." "Is she really that bad?"

Buffy watched as he crossed the room and went into the bathroom. Almost a week. He had been back in her life again for almost a week. It was hard to believe that before Tuesday, she hadn't seen him in so many years.

That last night together, the night before he left Sunnydale - the first time - was still so vivid. She had tried to block out the twenty-four hours that had followed; tried to focus on the good things. That seemingly perfect night.

Looking into his eyes and thinking that she could happily stay in his arms forever. Writing off his vague distraction as concern for her mother. Ignoring the way he had flinched when she touched his arm; turned so she wouldn't kiss his neck. It was still her Riley. Things would be fine in a few days, once things were back to normal. Yeah, right. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

And now, after being with him this past week… So much about him was what she remembered, what she had loved. But a lot was different, too. He was damaged. Flawed. Not even close to the unblemished man she had first met. Harder than he had been. But also softer. She had been in love with him, then; as much as she could be at the time. But she had been so naïve.

Thinking that what she'd had with Angel could never be surpassed. That forbidden kisses could sustain her for a lifetime. Of course, when a lifetime had been defined as twenty, twenty-five years, max, maybe it would have been enough.

But at thirty-six, things looked different. To find someone who made her feel young again, but could make the phrase "growing old together" be a gift rather than a life sentence. Someone who made her feel like the world was a better place, despite all the horrible things she had seen. Plus, human - bonus. Riley knew all of her weaknesses, knew her at her worst, but he still loved her. Still wanted to be with her. He thought his scars were a sign of weakness, but all she could see was strength and courage of body and soul. Someone who had seen the darkness, but stayed in the light. Like her.

To this day, those good times with Riley were some of the best she'd ever had - no worrying about the fate of the world with every kiss, or about the black cloud that was sure to descend. But they had held back too much from each other; had each tried to protect the other from too many things. Doomed from day one by youth and good intentions.

This time around, though, they were much more experienced in life and in love. Much more in sync when it came to needs and wants. And she was not one to squander second chances - her relationship with Angel was testament to that. Spike, Take Two, hadn't been quite so successful, but they had given it a good try. Now it was Riley's turn, and she actually felt optimistic, not her usual state of affairs. Content with how far she had come? Yes. Accepting her lot in life? Yes. But optimistic? Not until now.

So she could happily live with the friends who weren't quite so meddling, the mom who wasn't quite so disapproving, the kids who didn't exactly love her, but didn't seem to hate her, either. And she would deal with the stolen nights and interrupted phone calls; with the way his life was. Because it wasn't any less complicated than it had been all those years ago, but it was still worth it. More now than it had been then.

She heard the water turn off; smiled as she lay back in the bed. Maybe they'd make it to dinner tonight; maybe they wouldn't. She honestly didn't care. He loved her. She loved him. And tonight, nothing else mattered.