Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and Sunnydale is not my creation. I'm borrowing (from Joss), I will return (to Joss) and I'm not getting any money for the borrowing.
Spoilers: Up to "Intervention"/"Dead End." I'm nicer to Tara than Joss is, though g
Rating: Guess we'll say the usual PG-13 and see what happens
Author's Note: I started this story towards the end of Season 5, based on rumors of the return of Ick Boy, but I put it aside in favor of other stories. After the recent rerun of "Into the Woods," however, I was inspired once again to vent. I've decided I...I mean Buffy...needs closure g
Epiphanies For Sale By GemThe demon was headed straight at her, sword extended and an ugly smile on his gnarled little face. Buffy turned around just before he struck, tossing another of his brethren through a boarded-up window to clear her field. Without pausing for a breath she kicked sideways, propelling her latest attacker backwards towards the far wall...and directly into a very familiar figure.
"Riley! What are you doing here?"
Another of Glory's minions was preparing to separate her ex from his head before he had a chance to reply. Buffy called out, "Duck!" and as he did so she threw the sword conveniently dropped by the demon she had flung through the window.
The sword cleanly decapitated Riley's would-be assassin, leaving the former commando stunned, and a little chagrinned. He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair and attempted the "aw shucks" grin Buffy had once found rather endearing.
"I guess some things never change," he said with a studiedly casual shrug. "I step in to help...but you've already got the world pretty much under control by yourself."
"Practice makes perfect."
She tried a shrug of her own on for size; it felt a little stiff, but she didn't have much time to refine it, or the rest of her answer. Three more of Glory's minions chose that moment to lay down their lives for their god and the ensuing battle left little time for thought, let alone conversation. It wasn't until the last demon lay dead on the floor that she remembered the extra presence in her little group.
"Xander," she called, "is Tara okay?"
"Fine," answered the witch herself as she made her way across the chamber, leaning heavily on Willow and Giles. "Glory was too busy telling those creepy little monk guys what they should do to me for them to actually do much of it."
"Gotta love a woman who knows how to delegate," Xander marveled with a shake of his head.
Once she saw that Tara was safely restored to Willow, Buffy cautiously approached her former flame; uncertain of why he was there, and still less sure of her feelings about the same.
"Umm, Riley, how did you know..." she waved her hand to indicate the carnage, some of which he had helped to create.
"I stopped by the house and Anya told me where you were headed." Riley looked at his feet for a moment before he faced Buffy again. "And Dawn told me about your mom. I'm really sorry, Buffy. About what happened, and that I wasn't here to..."
"It's okay," she said swiftly. It was hard enough to deal with her mother's absence on a daily basis; she didn't want to be responsible for making Riley feel better about it. "We're okay. We're surviving. One minute at a time."
One minute at a time, just as Angel had told her to do. A sad smile drifted across Buffy's face; for one of those minutes she could almost feel the comfort of his arms around her as they leaned against the tree next to her mother's grave. She could hear his low voice in her ear, and feel the gentle pressure of his lips brushing against her hair. It was those minutes that gave her the strength to face the other ninety-nine thousand minutes alone.
"Buffy."
Buffy came back from her dream world with a lurch, Giles' hand on her shoulder an anchor in an otherwise hostile reality. She glanced up at him, knowing deep within her bones that his comforting gesture meant she was going to need comforting.
"She's gone, isn't she?" Buffy asked quietly.
"I'm afraid so. But we are all safe, and relatively unharmed." Giles drew a deep breath. "I suggest we adjourn to somewhat less hostile territory and regroup. Riley, will you...that is to say would you like to join us?"
Riley looked over at Buffy, trying to read her thoughts on the matter. It didn't work; it had never worked. She was still an enigma to him, but he would never stop hoping he could unravel the mystery.
If she would only give him the time to do it.
"It's fine, you know, if you want to," she said diffidently. "You helped save the damsel in distress; I guess that rates you a cup of bad coffee."
"That's all right Buffy; I'll make the coffee this time," Giles offered. His intent was to be helpful, but his Slayer's answering glare seemed to indicate where his good intentions could take him. "Yes, well, why don't we, umm, get going? I daresay Tara could use a good night's sleep in her own bed."
"Well if you don't mind, I guess I will come with." Riley smiled hopefully at Buffy, though he was not encouraged by the pale copy he received in return.
* * * * *
Buffy had often imagined how she would confront Riley if he someday returned to Sunnydale; in fact, those first few days after his abandonment, her only pleasure had come from imagining creative punishments for his crimes when he finally came crawling back. After the first few unnervingly delightful visions, however, she had restricted herself to composing the smartest, and most humiliating put-down in the history of womankind. It had been a thing of beauty too, full of righteous indignation and four-syllable insults.
Now of course, so many months later, yet just when she could have used it, she couldn't remember a word of it.
Not that it mattered anyway; she had no desire to air her dirty laundry in public, and her friends seemed determined to leave her no private. As though totally unaware that this night might be different in some way from any other, they had followed her back to Revello Drive and speedily made themselves at home, in their own typical fashion.
First Dawn had to be reassured that all was well, and convinced that bed was the best place to be for someone with a history test the next morning. Then Tara's wounds had to be tended, along with the ones obtained by the others in her rescue, and Anya had to be convinced that Xander's bloody nose was neither life-threatening or particularly sexy. Xander's ego, of course, required a little stroking after hearing the latter, and the resulting replay of the battle they allowed him, for Anya's benefit as well as his own, became rather loud and drew Dawn once again from her bed.
Any other time Buffy would have appreciated the Scoobies' show of solidarity; she knew each of them, in his or her own occasionally weird way, was trying to stand by her in her time of need. They were family, and they would protect her from all her enemies, even those some of them still thought of as friends. But even as she told herself this, Buffy was still most grateful for Giles' quiet but firm shepherding of the troops into the kitchen for some post-rescue, pre-bedtime cocoa.
Much though she now dreaded it, this was something she had to do by herself, and for herself.
* * * * *
Riley alone had seemed unaffected by the tension in the air. When he walked in the front door, he had tossed his fatigue jacket on the same coat hook that he'd always used, and then calmly followed Buffy into the living room. Without a word, he had crossed the room to sit in his old chair by the fireplace and stretched out his long legs, as though this were any of a hundred nights he and Buffy had spent in this house. A few good kills on patrol, a little instant replay for the gang, and then some smoochies by the fire before bed; this was once the life of the Chosen One and her chosen one.
Buffy could see the memories play out on Riley's face, even as she unwillingly relived them herself; the whole scene felt so familiar, in a slow-motion train crash sort of way. For one crazy moment, habit started to propel her towards her own customary seat...on Riley's lap. Instead she began to pace, trying to outrun the awkwardness, or at least outmaneuver it.
"So, South America. Or was it Central? Mountain? Pacific?" Buffy didn't dare look at him; she just kept plowing ahead. "Okay, not important. Anyway, how was it? Hot, I bet. Or does it get cool in the winter? Or is their cool like our hot, the way our cool is like East Coast hot...and we're talking about the weather," her voice trailed off. "No, actually I'm talking about the weather. You're not talking at all."
"I was waiting for a lull," he said gently.
"Sorry. Nervous babbling. Bad habit."
"I remember."
She felt a flash of anger at his simple comment, and the fond smile with which he delivered it. How dare he pretend to know her so well? The whole reason he had given for leaving was that she didn't let him in to her life, so how could he claim this great inner knowledge of her mind?
"I'm surprised they let you remember anything," she sniffed. "I would have thought the Initiative deprogrammed you or something once they got you out of here. Lots of spotlights in your face, and a high-protein diet." She punched her fist in the air. "Go cheese."
"It was my decision to leave, Buffy."
Still the calm voice, the one that made her feel like he was trying to coax her in from her own personal ledge, where she was quite comfortable, thank you very much.
"That's the part I remember," she said coolly.
Riley got to his feet. "Look, maybe coming here was a mistake. I thought...I'm not sure what I thought. I guess I thought that if we had some time apart..."
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him in disbelief.
"What? I'd come to my senses? Realize what a great catch I let slip through my fingers?"
The scary part was that she had thought just that, for the length of time it took her to run to the helipad the night he left. Xander had done an amazing song-and-dance to convince her to take another chance on Riley, to take another chance on anyone but Angel, and she had bought the whole package. She had run through the town like a madwoman, hoping desperately for another chance to put things right. It wasn't until the helicopter blades stopped churning the air above her head that she noticed a traitorous flare of relief at her failure.
She was not about to let his sudden reappearance send her careening down those dark streets again.
"I thought maybe we could start over. Start fresh."
Riley took a quick step towards her, half-expecting her to step backwards to evade him. The resignation in Buffy's motionless form was somehow worse; she feared contact no more than she desired it. He wouldn't let himself give up, though; the battle had been lost, but not the war. Not yet.
"Buffy, I've done a lot of thinking the past few months. Not that I wanted to, at least not at first." Riley grinned, hoping to inspire a similar expression on her face. Despite his failure, he persevered. "I'm really sorry for the things I did towards the end. I wish I could take them back, but I can't."
"I know," she said, snapping her fingers. "It is so hard to find a hooker who gives refunds these days."
"I know it was wrong, and I know I hurt you," he continued steadily. "But that's not what I wanted to do. I really was trying to do something good...in a wrong sort of way."
Buffy snorted in disbelief. "Speaking as one who actually went to hell once for my good intentions, you're not racking up a whole lot of sympathy points here." She cast him a sour smile as she curled her legs up beneath her on the sofa.
He sat down as well, keeping a watchful eye on her face for any signs that he was getting through to her.
"We had something special, Buffy, but it could have been so much more. I think it still could be, if you're willing to try again."
She drew a deep breath. There it was: the elusive second chance. Buffy knew they didn't come often in life, and she thought she had exhausted her supply when Angel came back from hell. But here was Riley, offering her another opportunity for a quasi-normal life.
She knew he wouldn't stray again; he wouldn't dare. She also knew if she took him back he would do all the appropriate boyfriend things to apologize; he was nothing if not appropriate.
He would be a solid, dependable presence in her life, from this day forward, in sickness (probably his) and in health (hers, give or take a few fractures); in good times (there had been some, hadn't there?) and in bad (those were a gimme on a hellmouth). Forsaking all others (if he valued his life)...
Till destiny did them part.
"Riley, I..."
"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Xander said breezily as he entered the room. "But Giles says we're out of cocoa and he's now on the lookout for java junkies. Anyone here qualify?"
Buffy glanced from Xander's carefully cheerful expression to Riley's anxious face. What her own face revealed, she did not know. All she did know was that this conversation could not be completed within the context of her normally chaotic house.
Buffy swiftly uncurled her legs and stood up. "Sorry, Xand. All qualified applicants are going elsewhere."
* * * * *
The streets of Sunnydale were strangely quiet that soft spring evening; even the demons seemed to have retired early. Buffy would actually have welcomed the distraction of a staking or two, but as usual the forces of darkness conspired to thwart her hopes.
Instead, she and Riley walked slowly down the almost deserted streets, where once they used to run to get back to his dorm room, or his apartment. They passed the cemeteries where they would have patrolled, in days of old, using slaying as the favored method of foreplay. A red light forced them to pause in front of a coffee shop where she remembered telling him any potential relationship between them was doomed.
Buffy couldn't help but admire the symmetry.
"Let's go in here," she said quietly.
He followed her in, and then quickly moved around in front of her to pull out her chair. Ever the gentleman; she remembered that about him too.
Well, except for the vampire prostitutes. But even then, she reflected grimly, he probably said 'thank you' as he paid them.
"I'll get us some cappuccinos," Riley promised, starting to back up towards the counter. "Double shot, right?"
He looked pleased with his memory, until she shook her head.
"Just a small black coffee, please."
Buffy found herself staring at her hands while she waited for him to return. Her nail polish was chipped almost completely away; she hadn't bothered with fixing or removing it in weeks. When Riley was around, she had made time for such things; it was the least she could do for subjecting him to the freak show that was her life. Polished nails, pretty clothes, long shiny hair, making him feel 'the man.' It didn't seem so much to ask...until she didn't have time for the games anymore. Until her friends started to drift away, and her mom got sick, and her sister was being stalked by an angry hellgod.
Then it became a little on the 'too' side of much.
"Here we are," he said, pushing the cup between her hands before he sat down opposite her. "What shall we drink to?"
"A world without evil," she answered, half-heartedly raising her cup to knock against his. "And lots of pull-through parking places."
He grinned, feeling his spirits lighten at her sarcastic tone. This was the Buffy he knew, the one who could laugh her way through the worst of times.
"Okay, you lost me on the second one," he admitted.
"I'm not really good at backing up yet," she explained, "and I think the world would be a better place if the Slayer didn't run people over in parking lots." Buffy blew across her steaming cup before taking a small sip of the bitter coffee. "Forwards is getting better, but backing up...I guess it sounds too much like backing down." Her lips turned upwards in a small smile, though the expression never reached her eyes. "Not much good at that either."
"So you're finally learning to drive; that's great."
Buffy stared blankly at him for a moment before she moved her shoulders in a tiny shrug.
"I didn't have much choice. The pizza place delivers, but not the mall. Dawn needs clothes...and books...and friends." Her eyes drifted to a point on the wall just over his left shoulder. "I never realized how much time Mom must have spent just doing stupid errands like picking up dry-cleaning. Kind of makes me regret all the bloodstains I got on my good minis." She cleared her throat, realizing she was revealing more than she'd intended. "You know, aside from the whole 'earth tones are out' aspect."
Riley dropped his own eyes, suddenly remembering what Buffy had been through the past few months, all the hardships she was very carefully not mentioning. He had been so excited to see her again, so lost in the old breathless feeling of being in her presence, that he had forgotten how she had suffered in his absence.
"Buffy, I wish I had been here for you," he said awkwardly. "With your mom and all that. If I had known..."
"You couldn't," she said quietly. "No one did. It just...happened."
"So how are you? And Dawn, how is she dealing with everything?"
He wasn't trying to ingratiate himself; she could tell that he honestly cared. It showed in his voice, his body language; he had never lied about that, no matter what else he had deceived her about.
"I'm...getting by. It's kind of tough handling school, you know, with Dawn and with Glory and all the joy that is slaying. But I'm handling it. Dawn, though...she's, umm, not doing too well. She misses Mom so much and..." Buffy's voice quivered, and then grew stronger. "And so do I, but I'm strong. Stronger," she corrected herself. "I also don't have to deal with being the Key to the gates of hell, so I have it a little easier."
Riley blond eyebrow's knitted together in a frown. "What are you talking about? What key?"
Buffy drew a quick, stunned breath. "I forgot; you don't know. Dawn is the Key that Glory was searching for. She's, well, sort of not my sister." The blank look on his face set her babble-mode on stun. "At least not originally. Well, originally if you're only counting her time as a human, because this is her first go around the block like that. But she spent a lot of centuries as a mystical light bulb before the monks made her try flesh and blood on for size."
"Mystical light...monks? And this makes her the key thing that you needed to get to before Glory? When did you find all this out?" He had a feeling he wasn't going to like her answer; a feeling confirmed by the turn of her head and her carefully modulated voice.
"When I did that spell to allow me to see other spells. You remember; magic sand and stinky incense galore."
He looked at her with wide, hurt eyes; shining in his memory were the kisses and the soft words between them before he left her alone to do that spell.
"Yeah, I remember. But Buffy, that was months ago. A lot more months than I've been gone."
"I know."
She faced him again; all signs of guilt or regret now vanished. He took a moment to absorb her confession, and process the inevitable conclusions.
"And the others? Do they know?"
It was merely a formality to ask; he knew the answer long before she nodded her head.
"At first I only told Giles, but after we found out that Glory is actually a god, not a demon, I realized they needed to know too. To help me protect her."
"Wait, Glory's a what?" Riley shook his head impatiently and spoke again before she had a chance to answer. "It doesn't matter. I'm just wondering why you didn't think I could be of any help. You told Giles, but not me?"
He didn't bother to disguise the bitterness in his voice; let her feel his pain. It was about time she acknowledged her hold over him, and the damage it could cause.
"I needed him." It was, at least to her, an obvious answer.
Riley laughed sharply. "Well that pretty much says it, doesn't it? I suppose you told Angel too?"
"Not then," she admitted softly. "When he came back, after Mom died...that's when I told him."
That one hurt, even more than finding out he still ranked behind her friends. Angel had been there for her when he couldn't be. When Riley had left to save himself, Angel swept in to save Buffy. Had she called him, or had he somehow just known? And which was worse?
"So he came back here after your mom died?" Riley forced himself to ask coolly. "Yet more I've missed. I suppose you've been in touch with him the whole time, haven't you?" He shook his head. "Good old Angel, stepping into the breach whenever any of Buffy's relationships go south. Never mind that he's the reason they crash and burn in the first place."
"He is not the reason we ended," she protested, a warning edge in her voice.
"No, he's the reason we never began," he countered, choosing to ignore her danger signals. "You won't let yourself feel anything for any other guy as long as he's around, because it's safer that way." Riley leaned across the table and laid his hand over hers. "Buffy, when are you going to stop living in the past? He's history. Literally. I could be your future, if you'd only let me in."
"I tried, Riley." Her tone softened as she saw the real pain in his eyes. "I did the best I could, but...but I guess wanting to do something isn't enough."
"The trouble is you didn't really want to," he countered. "You prefer the image in your mind of your perfect, romantic Angel. No guy could compete with that."
"I never asked you to compete. I just wanted you to be with me, but that was obviously too much to ask for." She pulled her hand away, almost knocking her coffee cup over in her haste.
"Oh come on, Buffy; be straight with yourself for a change. You measure every guy to him. To a demon. Was I just too normal to measure up?"
"Don't go there, Riley," she warned. "I'm trying to be adult about this and talk to you, the way you say we never did. So could you do me a favor and meet me halfway? At least aim for late adolescence."
Riley's whole body stiffened, but he choked back the harsh retort that sprang to his mind. The Slayer in Buffy fought back savagely when attacked, and he had no wish to become yet another casualty left by the wayside. He was in this for the long haul.
"Okay, fine," he ground out. "So it was just me; there was something I wasn't doing that made you shut me out from the very beginning. So what was it? Did I come on too strong? Not strong enough?"
"No, that was never...there was no strength problem. Really."
She winced when she heard her own words, and the inevitable reminder they brought to Riley.
"Really...I mean Riley," she stammered, suddenly forced on the defensive. "Riley, your approach was just fine. Honest."
He put it aside; those months he'd spent in the jungle gave him plenty of time to deal with her physical prowess as compared to his, and it no longer bothered him.
Really.
"So it wasn't the intro," he said smoothly. "Then I guess I flunked the hearts and flowers portion of the exam. Wasn't I Suave-and-Romantic-Guy enough for you?"
"You were very romantic," she said helplessly. "At least you tried to be, as much as the hellmouth would let you. I liked that about you from the start."
Even when she was the angriest, in the first few days after he abandoned her, she could not deny Riley's romantic nature. He had taken her on picnics, and swan boat rides, and kissed her on the top of the Ferris wheel. He had given her silly gifts just to make her smile, and carried her books to class.
"Did I forget to laugh at your jokes? Was I rude to your friends or your family? Did I kick your non-existent dog? If it wasn't Angel, then what was it that kept you from ever letting me up to the plate?"
"You keep on acting like I planned this," she snapped. "I tried, or at least I thought I was trying. And you were fine; there wasn't a single boyfriendly move you messed up...until you decided to be a vampire soda fountain." She saw his mouth open, ready to protest, and hastily raised her hand. "I know; this is about how I could have prevented all that if I'd made you feel needed. Or maybe, just maybe, if you'd let me know you didn't feel needed."
"Look, we both made mistakes," he allowed, reasoning that there was no need to lose his advantage by being a poor loser. "And I think we're both sorry for them, and we've learned some important things from them. I want to move on from there, if you'll let me. I think maybe we have a chance now, if we're always this honest with each other."
Buffy bit her lip, trying to find the words he spoke of, the honest ones.
Riley sensed her resolve was weakening and reached out for her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to do this alone, Buffy. I'm here, and I won't go anywhere unless you want me to."
She heard the comparison loud and clear, though he was gentleman enough not to complete the thought aloud. Unlike Angel, Riley would not leave her for her own good. Unlike Angel, Riley would not tear huge rents in her soul and expect her to fill them in with someone better than he.
Riley could give her sunlight, and silly gifts, and sweep her off her feet with his devoted attentions. He could make her smile, and care about her nail polish, and feel like a girl again, all with a few flirtatious glances from his baby blues. Looking into those same eyes tonight, she suddenly realized that when he left, she had missed all of that so much more than she had actually missed him.
She'd been looking for a chance at love without pain, and she'd found it. And then she found it wanting.
"Riley, I'm really glad you came back," she said slowly, forming her thoughts only instants before she gave them breath. "I think I needed to talk to you to finally put some things to rest. Things like where we went wrong, and where I went wrong."
Buffy gently pulled her hand away from his, this time for good.
"You were right; I was living in the past. But not the past you thought I was in." She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I was living the life I used to have, before I became the Slayer. Before I met Angel and I discovered how much love can hurt."
"It doesn't have to hurt," he said softly, forcing back the fear that it was hopeless. Ignoring the voice that said she was already gone, if she had even really been here to begin with.
"Yeah, actually it does sometimes," she told him, looking deep into his innocent blue eyes. After all the evil he had faced, he was still a child in so many ways. "It's not the part of the deal I like, but I guess you don't get anything worth having without paying for it. Except I tried to...when I met you."
Buffy paused for a moment to regroup; it was harder than she'd thought, trying to face the past she'd buried with such resolution.
"I wanted...I wanted to be 'in love' the way I used to believe it ran. You know, heart-shaped boxes of candy on Valentine's Day and you giving me your umbrella if I forgot mine. But that's just the surface stuff, the stuff you tell your girlfriends about to make them jealous. The real stuff is too special...and sometimes just too painful...to talk about."
"You've got it all wrong, Buffy. God, you've taken enough psych by now to realize that the love equals pain theory is a first class ticket to an abusive relationship. Is that what you really want for yourself?"
"I want...I want to feel again. I'm scared of it, so scared it makes me sick," she confided. Riley wanted honesty, and like it or not, he was going to get it. "I loved my mom so much, and now she's gone and I can't make the hurt go away. And Dawn; she means the world to me, and Glory is getting closer and closer to finding her, and if she does I might lose her too. And Angel is so far away, and he has problems of his own, and it's not like anything has changed between us...but that's the point. The feelings between us haven't changed anymore than the situation. And I suddenly realized I'm glad about that."
"You're crazy," Riley said flatly. "You can't have a relationship; you know that and so does he."
"But we already have one." She smiled wistfully. "It's not all that it could be, or what I want it to be, right now, but it does exist. I love him, and he loves me. Through the worst of it, we've always loved each other."
"And you think that's enough to solve the problems between you? We both know you need things that he can never give you." He looked away, uncomfortable with what he knew he had to say. "I may not know the inner workings of your mind, but I spent enough time in your bed to realize sex is important to you."
"Says the man who needed to donate blood to get a...never mind."
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but refrained from giving way to the anger brewing inside of her. Riley had known her body, known it very well, but he had never known her heart. And no matter what he had felt while they were having sex, it could not compare to what she had known with Angel that one perfect night, when love was given and received in full measure. There was no way Riley could understand.
"Riley," she tried again, "I'm not denying that I...enjoyed...the physical part of our relationship; I did. And I liked being, well, 'courted' is the word you used once, I think. It was really nice for a change. No high drama, no life-or-death decisions; just plain old-fashioned Barbie and Ken go to the Homecoming game. It was a nice escape from the daily Slayer grind."
"So now I'm a Ken doll. Swell."
Buffy growled in frustration. She was trying to be tactful, trying to thank him in a way, and he chose to take it as an insult.
"I'm not saying this right, but I don't know how to make you understand. I've done a lot of growing up the past two years, especially the last few months. The me who started at Sunnydale U wanted to be Carrie Coed...but I guess I'm closer to plain old Carrie." The corner of her mouth twisted upward in a half-smile. "I'm never going to be the girl you want me to be."
"How do you know who I want you to be, or need you to be? You're just putting up barriers so you won't have to deal with reality, Buffy." But he could help her deal; he knew he could help.
"No, you were my barrier against reality, Riley. That's why I have to let you go."
* * * * *
Riley was quiet on the walk back to Buffy's house. She had hoped to avoid the inevitably tense situation by going home alone, but he insisted. Slayer or no Slayer, girlfriend or not, he was the man and he would walk her home.
It was a part of his homespun Iowa "charm" she had once thought kind of sweet, but now found stifling. Yet another thing not to be missed, and wasn't it embarrassing to admit to herself how many of them there were. Who exactly was the Buffy who'd been running her body all these months, and where did the real Buffy go to get a refund for that lost time?
Finally the interminable, and silent, walk came to an end on her front porch. They both paused on the doorstep, neither sure of how to say the final words.
"I'm back for a few weeks, you know, if you need any help," he offered. "Just stop by Donnelly House; if I'm not there one of the guys will get the message to me."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," she said quietly, meeting his gaze without flinching. If he was expecting a sudden change of heart, she wanted to make it clear he was hoping in vain.
"I hope you know that I'm always here for you." Riley suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I mean I know I wasn't before, but I am now. And if that has to be as your friend...I'm willing to go back to that if you are."
She cocked her head to the side, considering his words.
"I'm not sure we really were friends, Riley," she said at last. "I'm not saying I don't want to be, but I think that's a 'going forward' kind of thing, not back. I mean, everything happened so fast, I don't think we took the time to be friends first."
"It kind of swept us away," he agreed with a small smile.
"You're talking waves rushing back out to sea," Buffy awkwardly corrected him. "I'm thinking more of the broom Xander bought Willow as a gag gift. I wanted so badly to make the pain go away, and I thought the best way to do that was to get right back up on that horse and...and suddenly not liking the sexual undertones of this metaphor," she confessed with a blush. "Let me try again."
"It's okay; I get it." Riley's tone was uncharacteristically sharp as he silenced her, but he had no regrets; even Prince Charming would have a tough time being gracious as he listened to the love of his life relegating him to Step 13 on her road to recovery. "I don't agree, but I get it."
"I'm not trying to hurt you; I just want us to be clear. We've already tried to have a relationship based on misunderstandings and mixed signals." She forced a pained smile. "Funny thing, though; it didn't work."
"I can't argue with that."
Buffy was silent for a moment, and then stepped a fraction closer to him. "I'm sorry for that, in case I didn't say so before."
Short sentences seemed to serve Riley best right now, preserving both his anger and his pride. If he lost the first, he would surely throw away the second.
"You didn't."
"Well, I'm sorry for my part anyway," she answered defensively. "I didn't force you to go bungee blood-letting; that was your own brilliant idea."
That one stung him. As though she still didn't know it had all been for her.
"I just wanted to know..."
"Yeah, I know; you wanted to know what the fascination was for me," she interrupted him briskly. "I didn't buy it then, and it's not selling any better in the suburbs tonight. Come on, Riley; you're the big psych major. You were acting out, to get attention. Because even negative attention is better than none."
"Which, you admit, is basically what I got," he flared.
Buffy sighed; so much for a quick and graceful exit. She settled herself on the porch steps and patted the space next to her.
"Sit."
He sat down, trying not to crowd her. She was talking to him, for the first time in months. Maybe for the first time ever. He wasn't going to blow it now.
"You're not the only one who has been doing a lot of thinking since we broke up," she began slowly. "And it hasn't exactly been a pretty sight on this end either. You were right when you said I didn't give us a fair chance, and I'm sorry for that. But you know, you could have said something sooner; you didn't have to hire vamps to suck your blood just to make me see you. It was stupid, and risky and selfish."
"Selfish? How the hell do you figure that?"
"Wasn't there a little portion of your brain that was gloating about how guilty I'd feel if you got yourself killed? You know, since you were only doing it 'to understand me better.' Tell me that thought didn't cross your mind."
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, challenging him to be as honest with her as he claimed he wanted her to be.
"I never thought that, Buffy," he protested.
She said nothing, only arched a delicate eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. Maybe just a little, tiny bit," he capitulated. "But that wasn't the main reason. I really did want to understand you." He clenched the wood beneath him with tight hands as he stretched out his legs down the length of the steps. Anger was fading, but the bitterness that was replacing it clawed at him more fiercely with visions of what might have been...if only.
It seemed, however, that only vampires with souls got the benefits of an "if only."
"Unfortunately, what I came to understand was that you weren't about to let me in, no matter what I did. You trusted your friends, and Giles, and even Angel. But you never trusted me that way, not with what you were feeling."
"I never intended to shut you out, Riley; it just...happened. I don't trust a lot of people, and even those I do, I don't always trust with everything. You can ask the gang; I've kept some major secrets from them." A vision of Angel in the early days after his return from hell sprang to mind as an example, but she doubted Riley would appreciate it. "Most of the time I get up the nerve eventually, but sometimes I don't say a peep until I'm forced into it."
"Except to Angel, of course," Riley commented bitterly.
She shrugged her shoulders; if he wanted to bring Angel into this too, so be it.
"It doesn't do much good to hide things from him; he always knows when I'm lying, and he won't let me keep anything secret if he thinks the keeping will hurt more than the telling."
"Because he knows you so well."
"Yeah, he does, because we're alike in a lot of ways. I can't help that, Riley. I can't help my feelings for him either, and God knows I tried." She clasped her hands together and wrapped them around her knees. "I guess where I screwed up was letting us both think that I could."
He looked at her long and hard, watching the way the fickle moon painted her face in silvery lights and sable shadows. He had fallen in love with her the first time he saw her, so small and cute and fluttery. Later, when he discovered the steel at her core, he had thought himself even more fortunate. She could be sweet and shy with him, even as she was beating a demon senseless with her bare hands. She was the most exotic creature he had ever met, and for a little while he believed she belonged to him.
"This is really it, isn't it?" he asked bleakly. "Even with what you said before...I thought if you were still mad at me, then I still mattered. At least enough to rate a second chance someday in the future."
Someday in the future, when it dawned on her that Angel's absence was permanent, and she was the better for it. He'd clung to the belief that day would come, but he couldn't hold on any longer.
Buffy got to her feet, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder as she looked down at his fair head.
"You do matter, Riley," she said gently. "But not in that way, not to me. I'm sorry."
He laughed harshly. "Me too. Gee, maybe if I'd let one of those vampires turn me..."
"Oh yeah, that would have solved everything," she scoffed. "Cause the world so needs another undead grad student with a gun."
"It wasn't the world I wanted to need me, and it's pretty obvious you never did. If you had...maybe then you would still be mad."
"I was, a long time ago. And if you had stayed so we could have fought about it some more, I probably would've stayed mad longer," she admitted. "But you left me with no one to fight but myself...and I had other things that needed doing more." She shrugged as she took a backwards steps towards the door. "I'm sorry if you were hoping for flying objects as proof of my enduring affection. Slayer or not, I'm fresh out of fight tonight."
Another step towards the door, her hand poised to turn the knob.
"I really have to go, Riley. I, uh, kind of have a phone call to make."
"To Angel, right?"
"Good night, Riley."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Riley Finn more alone than he had ever felt before.
* * * * *
Buffy stared at the white phone resting on her bed, just inches away from her outstretched hand. She'd been staring at it for ten minutes now, ever since she closed her door and sat down on the bed, but she had been unable to do more than pick it up off of the nightstand and lay it down next to her knee.
She tried to tell herself that she was waiting for the line to be free, but since Dawn was in bed and her friends had finally all gone home, it wasn't a very convincing story. So she tried to tell herself that Angel might be in bed already, but that made even less sense.
She almost won herself over with the idea that now was not the right time to be thinking of herself; Glory was an ever-present threat and Dawn must be her first concern. But Angel gave her strength; he didn't drain it as Riley had inadvertently done with his insecurities and his neediness. If anything, blending her life with Angel's would help her deal with Glory, not to mention Dawn.
She was left with one inescapable conclusion: she, the baddest, if not the biggest, of all the Slayers, was scared to death of making a phone call.
She knew Angel still loved her; if she had ever doubted it his words and actions after Joyce's funeral put those fears to rest. And she knew her love for him was as strong, if not stronger, than it had ever been.
What frightened her was not a lack of love, but an abundance of it. After all these months, now turned to years, of floating along on the surface of love, was she strong enough to plumb its depths again? And what about Angel, whose love was so encompassing he felt her safer without it than with it; was he finally ready to let her decide about her own future?
And if he was ready, did that mean he loved her more or less than before, when no choice was offered?
Too many questions, too many fears, stilled her hand just inches from the instrument that could provide the answers. The minutes ticked away, every one inserting more space between Buffy and her heart's desire, but she couldn't force her hand to move.
Until she heard a sound drift up from her front porch.
She was off the bed in an instant, personal concerns firmly put aside until her slayer senses could determine the nature and extent of the danger. A glance out of the window initially revealed nothing, until a quick movement beneath the old sycamore tree next to her porch caught her eye. It was the same tree she had used as her preferred exit until her mother knew the truth about her nighttime world. The same tree Angel had climbed up so many times to reach her bedroom window, back when life was much more easily-defined.
For one brief shining moment, she thought it was Angel standing at the base of the tree, waiting for her to come down. Then the moon slipped out from behind a cloud and shone on a golden head resting against the trunk.
Riley. Still here, still hoping.
Buffy choked down a bitter laugh as she ducked behind the curtains to keep him from seeing her. Here was good old Riley hanging in there even when she told him not to, and somewhere in LA Angel was roaming the night without her, when all she wanted was to be by his side.
The phone was still lying mutely on her bed. A few quick steps took her back to it, and this time her fingers did not hesitate to punch in the numbers that would reconnect her to her world. She had done her best tonight to send Riley off on his own path, and now it was time to do as much for herself.
* * * * *
To Be Continued