Introduction and Disclaimer: A story which I hope will feature my pairings from my previous Buffy stories (Robin/Faith, Xander/Dawn, Buffy/Riley) with guest appearances by Willow/Kennedy and a celebrity guest to be revealed nearer to the end bit. Or not. Still writing it. Allons-y.

Prologue

"I'm Shirley Yang, and this is Action News at 9. Thank you for tuning in, our top story tonight: Rain. After four and a half years of record drought, the rains have returned at last. We are seeing sustained rains across our viewing area, with more precipitation predicted through the weekend."

She turned slightly as the 2-Camera picked up the shot, smoothly keeping eye contact with her audience. The outside shot graphic superimposed behind her showed a steady shower, dropping and dripping and gusting slightly in the evening breeze. Here and there the moon shown down through gaps in the clouds, making columns of silver against the night.

"While amateur gardeners may cheer, Scott Pankonin in Weather Center 12 tells us we might want to hold our applause. But first, the California Republican Party Primaries continued to surprise today, as Los Angeles City Councilman Lindsey McDonald continues to pick up steam in the race for Governor…"

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: May Showers

by Reverend Killjoy

I. Into Each Life, Some Rain Must Fall

Robin Wood sat, his long legs folded into lotus, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. He sat on mat of rushes, before an altar of the Buddha. He appeared at peace, Zen, to be dwelling in the place reached through that struggle for the place that cannot be reached through struggle.

He was not at peace. His body was still, but his heart was heavy, his mind racing. Master Chen, the ancient practitioner who had introduced him into the ways of meditation many years ago would not have been impressed.

Just before her hand touched his shoulder, he felt Faith, the Vampire Slayer, slide up next to him. More precisely, he felt the air parting before her fingertips. Of her arrival, he had felt or heard no trace at all. She'd been practicing.

"Hey."

Her voice was soft, shockingly so to those who had only known her in the past. Lately, her voice had been softer, kinder. It didn't help, between them, but it didn't make things worse either. She slowly folded, coming to her knees beside him, her fingertips lightly touching his shoulder. He smelled, now, her shampoo, and the citrusy soap that she scrubbed with after a hard workout.

"You didn't come to bed."

It sounded like a statement. It could have been a question. It felt like an accusation.

"Not sleepy," he lied. It was easier than explaining that his body was tired but his mind refused to listen. It was the kind of lie he'd been telling a lot lately.

"I could fix that, maybe, if you came to bed," she said, with just a hint of a purr at the beginning, which trailed into a flat expressionless statement by the end. She still tried, but it was difficult for her, too.

He rose, swiftly but not suddenly, and she followed. He turned at last and looked at her, her dark beauty glowing in the night, calling to him, tightening the muscles in his chest slightly as she always had. For a moment, no. No, he'd listened to that impulse before.

"Going for a walk," he said. "Just for a bit. You go on to bed."

Neither could hold the other's gaze. He slipped his feet into a pair of soft shoes and threw a long duster coat over his shoulders. She turned, looking out the window, at the gentle rain drifting down through the hazy night of Anaheim, the shops signs, streetlights, and apartment TVs glowing through it all in a fairy haze. She didn't watch him leave, but she didn't go to bed either.

Outside, Wood's feet quickly became wet through his shoes, and his bald head gleamed darkly with beaded water like dew on a mahogany stump. After he'd walked maybe 60 yards, he shook himself like an animal, and water flew away in tiny arcs around him.

"Damn, Wood." His voice sounded only in his head, but he heard it clearly and persuasively. "What are you doing?"

He looked around at the rain-spattered street corner, the water dripping off of eaves and awnings in irregular fountains down the block. There was nothing. No danger, no threat, no allure. Just rain, and streets, and a 60-yard, squelching walk in wet shoes back to the apartment over the dojo, back to his bed, and back to his wife. He turned, and began the walk home.