So this is my submission for this year's IWRY fic marathon. It's based on a few bits of headcanon I've had for quite a while. The fic is complete, so I'll be posting at least one chapter a day. There are seven chapters after this, plus a short epilogue. Most chapters are around 1K words long.
The Recent Past
Taking the dogs for a walk down to the river gave Riley plenty of time to reflect on how much his summer wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. He'd hoped being back in Huxley for a couple of months and spending time with his family would help him get past the fiasco of the Initiative and his honorable discharge, but he'd been wrong. His younger twin brothers were in the midst of ROTC training in Texas, and his older sister was preparing to present her doctorate research in the National Security Seminar in Pennsylvania, so he was the only one home for the summer. To his chagrin, neither of his parents was satisfied with the reasons.
His dad wouldn't stop hounding him about the discharge. As a highly decorated Vietnam veteran who was the son of an equally decorated World War II veteran, it was hardly surprising that the man would have strong opinions about one of his sons leaving the military for any reason other than extreme injury or death, no matter how honorable the discharge. His mother wasn't much better, though her focus was on the fact that Riley's grades had dropped so far due to how much study time the Initiative had consumed that he was on academic probation and his Master's thesis was going nowhere (which was partly because his thesis advisor had been gutted by her own Frankencyborg).
When his mother wasn't fretting over the state of his education, she also found a great deal to say on the subject of his love life. John and Emily were expecting their first child and one of the twins was engaged, so she wanted to know when he'd be moving things ahead with that nice blonde girl he'd raved about over Christmas break.
If Riley had had his way, Buffy would be in Iowa with him now—she'd have been the perfect buffer against both of his parents—, but she'd claimed a rain check in favor of keeping up with her Slayer duties in Sunnydale. He'd tried to compromise by suggesting she just fly over for one weekend of the month he'd be in Iowa, but then she'd switched tact and decided it was just too soon for that kind of step.
The more he thought about it, the more it rankled that even after over six months of dating, Buffy still claimed it was too soon for her to meet his parents. He'd already met both of hers (granted, meeting Hank had been more accidental than intentional, as he'd dropped in for a brief visit one Saturday when Buffy invited Riley to dinner with her and Joyce), so he didn't see how it was "too soon" unless that was just code for "I'm not as invested in this relationship as you are." But that was a mental can of worms he preferred to stay well clear of.
As if they knew he was in need of a distraction, Rex, Patton, and Aggie suddenly all started barking and tugging at their leashes. "Whoa!" he said, staggering forward a few steps before he was able to regain his balance. "What is it, guys?"
He looked in the direction they were straining towards and saw a column of smoke coming from the next farmhouse about a quarter of a mile up the country road. It belonged to the Andersons, the newest family in the congregation at church. They'd moved in a few months ago, and his mother had quickly made friends with Claire Anderson, despite her initial skittishness. She had just been telling them at dinner how Claire was so excited because her little boy would be released from the juvenile detention center in Des Moines for his outstanding behavior. She'd even baked the Andersons a casserole that afternoon to celebrate.
"Oh my God!" said Riley, and he took off at a sprint towards the smoking house, the dogs running and barking joyfully on either side of him. By the time he reached the Andersons' front yard, he could see the actual flames in two of the windows. Both of their cars were parked in the driveway, but nobody was outside.
Riley dropped the dogs' leashes and ran around to the back of the house. He turned the corner just as Seth was pulling a screaming Claire out through the window of the master bedroom. "No!" she shrieked. "We have to get Stephanie and Ryan! Let me go!"
"What's going on?" said Riley.
Seth wheeled around to face him. "Our kids are still inside!" he said, still holding onto his frantic wife.
"Where?" said Riley urgently. "How can I help?"
"Around the other side of the house," said Claire, looking close to fainting now, but at least calming down enough to have realized they weren't actually abandoning the kids.
"We'll get them out, Claire," said Seth. "Wait here."
Riley followed Seth around to the far side of the house. There were two windows there, and one of them had bars across it—a new addition since the previous owners of the house had hosted church barbecues in the backyard when Riley was in high school. Seth went for the other window, tore the screen away, and tried to pry the window open, but it wouldn't budge.
"Let me," said Riley, and Seth moved aside long enough for Riley to slam his elbow through the glass, shattering it. He reached inside and undid the latch, then shoved the window open. Seth clambered inside, calling his daughter's name. He reemerged a minute later, cradling a coughing and gasping eight-year-old to his chest.
"What about your boy?" said Riley when Seth seemed prepared to head back around to where Claire was.
Seth looked around at Riley with an unreadable expression on his face, then carefully set Stephanie down. "Your mom's over on that side of the house, sweetie. We're all going to be okay."
Stephanie nodded feebly, still coughing, and Seth went back to the window and climbed inside. Riley followed, setting both feet on the glass-coated carpet inside Stephanie's room just as Seth reached for the doorknob and drew back with a yelp of pain. "The fire's already spread," he said.
"We'll get to him," Riley assured him. Seth stepped aside again, and Riley aimed a powerful kick at the door. It burst open, taking half of the frame with it. A wave of heat rolled into the room, almost powerful enough to knock them off their feet, and smoke billowed through the doorway. The hallway was aglow with fire, which was creeping forward at an alarming rate. Pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth, Riley ran into the hall, careful to skirt the flames, and made for the next bedroom. He didn't even spare a thought for the doorknob, but kicked this door in too.
Inside the room was a blond boy, maybe ten years old. He was sitting on the bed, looking utterly unaffected by what was happening in the house. But Riley barely allowed these unsettling observations to give him pause. "Come on, Ryan," he said, holding out a hand to him. "I'm gonna get you out of here. It's okay."
"There's bars on the window," said Ryan. There was no emotion whatsoever in his voice. "Mom and Dad want me to stay."
"Come on, we can go out through Stephanie's room," said Riley. Not waiting for Ryan's input this time, he grabbed the boy off the bed and ran back into the hallway. The fire had reached Stephanie's door by now, and the heat was even more unbearable. Riley had to jump over the flames to get into the room. Seth was nowhere to be seen. Praying he'd already gone back to Stephanie and Claire, Riley climbed out of the window with Ryan. The second he was outside, he let out the breath he'd been holding and gratefully filled his lungs with smoke-free air before succumbing to a violent series of coughs.
Sure enough, they found the rest of the family all grouped together in front of the house. Claire was looking around anxiously as she clutched Stephanie tightly to her, and Seth had a cell phone to his ear.
"Ryan!" Claire shrieked, letting go of Stephanie and dashing over to Riley and the boy. Riley gladly handed him over to her, and she dropped to her knees with Ryan, sobbing into his hair and holding onto him tightly.
Riley glanced over at Seth in time to see the expression on his face as he looked at his son. He was sure he was seeing things; the man couldn't actually be disappointed to see Ryan safe and sound.
"You got him out," Seth said to Riley, closing his phone and shoving it back in his pocket.
"Yeah," said Riley a little hoarsely. "It was a close one, but he's okay."
"Thank you," said Seth stiffly.
"Is there anything else I can do?" said Riley.
"The fire department is on its way," said Seth. "They'll probably want statements from everyone."
Riley nodded. Suddenly remembering the dogs, he walked a few paces away from the Andersons. He put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud, high-pitched whistle. He heard a distant bark, so he called out the dogs' names. Once he walked far enough away from the fire, they came running right back to him, tails wagging.
Fifteen minutes later, the two kids were sitting in the back of an ambulance, firmly wrapped in shock blankets, while a police officer interviewed Seth, then Claire, and finally Riley. Once the officer was finished with him, Riley headed back over to where Seth and Claire were watching the firemen blast water at the burning house, their backs to him.
"I thought we'd seen the end of this after L.A.," Claire was saying in a broken voice. "I thought he was better."
"I know, sweetheart," said Seth, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.
"I can't send him back to that place," said Claire. "I can't stand it. He belongs with us."
"We can't afford to keep uprooting everything whenever this happens," said Seth.
Riley was about to make his presence known when Claire burst out, "But the demon is gone! It was supposed to be over once the demon was gone!"
†
Ever since his apartment—and Angel Investigations headquarters along with it—was destroyed in the explosion, Angel had been crashing at Wesley's flat. They hadn't had many cases since their latest altercation with Wolfram & Hart, but that was probably for the best, at least until Wesley's injuries finished healing.
One afternoon in June during a particularly long stretch between cases, Angel was just lying down on the lumpy living room sofa to try to grab a few hours of sleep before nightfall when someone hammered on Wesley's front door. He got reluctantly to his feet to answer it, but the visitor let herself in before he could get there. It was Cordelia.
"What's wrong?" he said, immediately alert.
"Did you have a vision?" said Wesley, who had just emerged from his office to see who had knocked.
"Hi, Cordelia, it's so nice to see you on a Saturday when we don't officially have work! I'm planning on paying you overtime just to show my appreciation!" said Cordelia, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.
Angel and Wesley exchanged brief, knowing glances. Wesley was the first to respond. "It's absolutely smashing to see you, Cordelia," he said, a little too brightly.
"Eight out of ten," said Cordelia, unimpressed. "Aren't you supposed to offer me tea?"
"Even if that particular cultural stereotype were true, it would only apply to expected company."
"Chamomile, please. Extra honey, but only milk if it's skim."
"Coming right up," said Wesley in defeat. "I put the kettle on a few minutes ago anyway." He trudged over to the tiny kitchen and disappeared from view.
"Thank you," said Cordelia primly as she took a seat on the sofa. Once settled, she looked expectantly at Angel. "And my overtime?"
"I already gave you a raise," he said, amused. She continued to stare at him, so he added, "It's also good to see you."
"So did you have a vision, then?" came Wesley's voice.
"God! What is it with you two and your extreme aversion to small talk?" said Cordelia.
"Well you did just show up unannounced like it's some kind of emergency," Angel pointed out.
She shot him a dirty look. "Oh, fine. Yes, I did have a vision. I'm not sure what the Powers expect us to do about it, though, because it looked a whole lot more like the past than the future."
"How could you tell?" said Angel.
"My first clue was the horses and buggies mixed in with Model Ts, and everyone was wearing vests, suspenders, dresses, and hats."
"And this was in Los Angeles?" said Wesley.
"Not unless everyone in L.A. was all 'Ciao!', 'Andale!', and kissing each other on the cheeks back then," said Cordelia. "And the war posters on some of the windows definitely weren't in English."
"Why would you have a vision of something that took place in World War I era Italy?" said Angel, just as Wesley reappeared with a steaming cup of tea, which Cordelia took.
"How should I know?" she said, raising the cup to her lips and taking a sip.
"What was happening?" said Angel. He leaned back against the nearest wall and folded his arms across his chest while Wesley sat down in the armchair.
"A lot," said Cordelia. "It kept flashing around, but it was all centered around this one guy. He was executed for murdering his sister, her husband, and her husband's parents."
"Was he guilty?" said Wesley.
Cordelia nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah," she said, taking another sip. "And that was only what he got caught for. He also burned down a few buildings—one of them a hospital—but they couldn't prove he was guilty for any of those."
"Wes and I can look into that," said Angel. "There's bound to be a record of it. Let us know if you remember any more details."
So it occurred to me while I was writing this that we have almost zero knowledge of Riley's family situation back in Iowa, except that his life is like a Grant Wood painting and that his family is probably Christian. So I took the liberty of giving him three siblings plus a brother in law, almost a sister-in-law, and a niece or nephew on the way. And I made his whole family both military and education oriented. Also, I named one of his dogs after my family's new dog, Aggie, which is a subtle hint that Riley's twin brothers are in ROTC training specifically at Texas A&M. Anyway, the connection between what Riley's up to with the Anderson family in Iowa and Cordelia's vision will become clear in subsequent chapters. In the meantime, any guesses? If you want a hint, I'd recommend rewatching "I've Got You Under My Skin" in Angel S1.