Spoilers: Written after Hush, and about the events in the episode.
The Personal Journal of Riley Finn, Special Agent
3:22 AM
I just a left her.
She was sprawled face down, sound asleep on her friend's couch.
Her injuries from the fight and the emotional exhaustion from the past few days caught up to her and forced her to rest. The man, Giles, let me stand there, behind the couch, watching over her as he cleaned and stitched her wound. Let me see for myself that she was going to be fine. He somehow understood I needed to watch over her as her eyes slowly drifted close-he knew that I needed to know she was safe.
When he had finished his task, he joined me behind the couch. It was a silent companionship and the start of a vigil I knew would last all night for him. I wished I could join him. The tears I saw in his eyes told me just what she meant to him. The trust she displayed by falling asleep while he worked on her back spoke volumes of what he meant to her-communication without words. That was what these past few days were all about.
But, God, what is she? How could she hold off those things; no, not hold them off--beat the crap out of them? I had no idea she had been stabbed until after the fight--or should I say battle--was over.
She killed them by screaming. Screaming, of all things! And how she did she know how to kill them in the first place? How did she know about the box?
Okay, my mind is all over the place again. Walsh will want a report on my encounter with the demons. I had to report it, what with all that demon blood, or, fluid, or whatever it's called everywhere in the old clock house so I had to report it. Had no choice. We knew from what happened to Thomas over the summer that some demon fluids can contaminate a victim, so I had to call in the Haz-Mat team to clean it up.
It worries me, though. What are they going to say when they find Buffy's blood? It was thick and red...looked and smelled like blood, when I helped her up after she had collapsed, she was warm-is she human? How can she be?
She barely reaches the middle of my chest and I can span her waist with just one of my hands...yet the image of her swinging by that rope and knocking the demon at least 20 feet is burned indelibly into my mind and makes me wonder. I'm digressing again. Thank God Walsh lets me keep this personal journal, lets me organize my thoughts here first, before I have to write a legible report.
All right, I must try to put tonight's events into some form of order. I wonder if that Giles guy cleaned out the gash across Buffy's back well enough? If he didn't then she could get an infection. Or worse. They seemed so familiar; like he does that for her all the time. No, stop thinking about her. Or about Giles. At least I know, whatever she is, she isn't a hostile.
Okay, think. Focus. I have to write the report and be debriefed before I can go to bed. Or before I can do what I really want to do--go talk to Buffy. She was so out of it after the fight she couldn't explain. She tried, but what she said made no sense. Something about fairy tale monsters, and kissing me in a dream. No sense.
Okay, I have to admit it; I was pretty much out of it too. How do I explain I'm part of a top-secret government project that makes the X-Files look normal? I was glad Buffy was in no shape to talk after the fight. I should admit to myself at least that writing this now is more for me to get my thoughts together so I can tell her about me, the real me--no more hiding--than it is to write Walsh's report.
Oh, God Walsh! I'm worried the doctor may order a retrieval team to storm Giles' apartment and collect my girlfriend when she sees my report. I just can't help it, if Walsh does. I can't stop her, I can't lie. It's the truth. No, I'm sure Walsh won't do that, I hope.
Focus. Don't think of what if or what could. Think of what did happen. Buffy's safe and asleep at her friend's house.
Two days ago when everyone in the city of Sunnydale lost their voices, we shut the town down. We had no idea what was behind it. In the six months since The Initiative was created, we had never dealt with anything quite like it. The scientists on the project were equally divided on the cause. Some thought it was some sort of communicable or highly infectious disease. Others, Walsh included, thought it had demonic origins. I'm just a grunt so I had no opinion. At least none I was allowed. At first we were just sent out to maintain order. Walsh wanted to avoid panic, because if the people couldn't communicate they would become frightened, frustrated and then violent. The Initiative's goal is to save lives-anyway we can-so we were sent out dressed as civilians to help the police maintain order.
The first night I saw her. Buffy. I had been thinking about her all day, wondering if she was all right. Hoping she had stayed inside her dorm room, but knowing she hadn't. As the day wore on into night my worry for her filled my mind. It was the first time since I joined the project that I resented the responsibility of being a team leader. I wanted to go and find Buffy and hold her until the nightmare was over-not stay outside cold and hungry-breaking up endless fights.
I had just broken up what must have been the fiftieth fight of the day when she just magically appeared. I crushed her to me in a desperate bid for comfort. She was there and she was safe, for the moment. When I could force myself to let her go, I held her at arms' length so I see if she was hurt or injured and to soak up the sight of her. I know how corny it sounds but I really do find Buffy's beauty soothing. I have a hard time believing that she will even spend time with me. The idea that she could actually want to spend time with me is my fondest dream.
I don't know how the kiss happened. Oh, wow, "The Kiss." She held me so tightly, there was no awkwardness at all, we just seemed to blend together and become one. I just can't describe the emotions that coursed through me at the feel of her lips on mine. Relief, happiness, pleasure and mind numbing fear that I would lose her. What I found peculiar about The Kiss was that it wasn't sexual. Oh, I want her. I want her so badly sometimes I can't think, I can't eat, and I can't concentrate on my work.
This report being exhibit A; but during the kiss my libido took a powder. I just wanted to hold her and be held by her-to know that there was someone who made all the sacrifice the Initiative calls for to be worth while. For me, Buffy Summers is that person.
God if Forrest read this he would get physically ill. I'm happy he reported in an hour before I did. Grant's safe too, and is most likely in bed sound asleep. Sleep is something that won't be happening for me tonight.
Report Riley, the report. Walsh was just in here again. She gave me a look, her patented "look."
Okay, so by tonight, or last night, we knew the voice loss was demonic in origins. Walsh ordered us out with live weapons and body armor. As she put it, "enough with the touchy freely maintain order business we need to find and capture the demon behind the situation." The three bodies that the local police discovered without hearts put us all on edge.
We normally don't patrol the town because there always seemed to be very little demonic activity in Sunnydale proper. Though that had been changing since fall. The number of demonic attacks had been steadily increasing in Sunnydale while decreasing on the campus. Which led Walsh to believe that Hostile 17 had gotten word about The Initiative out to his to the demon underground. But last night was different: last night we were sent out into the town. To cover the entire town we had to split our normal three man teams up. We were each given a sector to cover. Extremely dangerous work with us alone and no real way for calling for help.
I was pumped on adrenaline long before I noticed the faint outline of shadows in the old abandoned clock tower. I should have stopped and called for back up before I approached and entered the dwelling. In my defense I didn't know if the shadows were demons or just the homeless seeking shelter, so I went to investigate. And was jumped as soon as I entered the door.
I was able to fight off the first attacker, only to be overwhelmed by a second demon. I heard something crash through a window but had my hands full just surviving long enough to recover my weapon. For some reason the second demon disengaged and I was able to retrieve my weapon-only to find myself facing the business end of a very wicked looking crossbow. It was what was holding the crossbow that turned my world upside down. Buffy.
Buffy had the damn thing pointed right between my eyes, and she looked like she knew how to use it. In fact, less than thirty seconds later she adequately proved the fact that she was an expert, by nailing a demon in the heart. The fight raged on and I was only able to glance up a few times to check on Buffy-the time when she went sailing through the air like Tarzan and when she ran up the stairs to the tower.
I was able to kill the remaining demon and I ran up the stairs after her. What I found turned my blood cold. Buffy was being held by three of the demons we had fought downstairs as another strange man closed in on her with a scalpel. The crime scene photos flash across my mind-the victims with their hearts surgically removed.
There was a fourth demon standing next to the other three blocking my aim at the scalpel baring man. So I took careful aim and fired. I was able to rapidly knock the fourth demon down and then take out the strange man.
Buffy then made an impossible, movie type move to get free from the three other demons holding her. I stared in amazement for a moment but when two of the demons were able to throw her off her feet I snapped out of my stupor and joined the battle once again.
Just like with the fight downstairs I don't remember much of the battle. I let my instincts take me over completely, its just act and react when fighting. After a time I heard Buffy banging on some kind of wooden winch and turned to see her being choked my the lone remaining demon. Or so I thought. In turning around I noticed that the people I thought were just strangely dressed men were actually demons, too.
In the split second that I looked at her and realized my mistake about the men I also saw her frantically pointing at something on a table. I was so proud of myself for breaking the jar that the disappointment in her face tore at me. But, when she made it clear that it was the box that needed to be smashed I didn't hesitate and brought the, now unless, weapon down.
The demons' reactions were immediate; they flung poor Buffy away and started to try to escape. As soon as Buffy regained her balance she screamed. She screamed and that killed the demons-all of the demons-I still can't believe it. Blew their heads off in an extremely gory display of yuck. I am still amazed. How did she know? What is she?
After the demons died we just looked at each other for a few minutes. Trying to calm our racing hearts down from the fight and, I think, trying to figure out what to say. As Buffy calmed, adrenaline no longer pushing her, her injury caught up to her and she just seemed to deflate. Slowly crumbling over onto her side.
I rushed over to her thinking that maybe she had broken ribs. From the way those demons had been flinging her around she could have hit something. But when I started to turn her onto her back I felt wetness and pulled my hand away, it was covered in blood. She tried to sit-up then and ended up propped against me. Her eyes were so dilated they appeared black. "I have to get you to a hospital." I told her forcefully, expecting resistance.
I wasn't disappointed. "No, I'm okay." She lied. "Just help me up." To prove my point I lifted her to her feet, once up I backed away from her. She stood swaying like a drunk, then her knees gave out and I had to catch before she hit the ground.
"Point proven." I said smugly. Then regretted my words as a sear panic flashed across her expressive face.
"Please, just help me to Giles' house, it's only a few blocks away."
So I did. I carried her.
She was so light in my arms it wasn't hard. At the time it hadn't occurred to me that she could be a demon. But, how else can I explain her freaky strength and the panic I saw on her face at the mention of a taking her to a hospital?
I was only thinking about her as the woman I loved. It was on the short walk to her friend's house that night's events hit me. I knew she was peculiar but I never could have imagined how right I was....
We have to talk.
We are going to talk, today, as soon as I can get out of here, we are going to talk.