Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of Buffy, Angel, and any other show that are unfortunate enough to be used here belong to other people. Song Lyrics belong to the artist listed at the bottom of the page; in this case Billy Joel.


Chapter Four: Don't Ask Me Why

Riley stood at rigid attention inside Professor Walsh's office. Aside from a couple file cabinets, a desk, a pair of chairs, and a few personal items the room was devoid of any type of personality. The few objects that sat on the desk; an in and out basket, ink blotter, monitor, keyboard, and a neatly stacked pile of vanilla folders did very little to alter its appearance.

Standing in her office Riley wondered why Walsh had called him in. As far as he knew everything was operating well within parameters. Hostile Seventeen's escape had been the base's only miscue.

Now though, with her cool, unreadable gaze settled on him he wasn't so sure. Professor Walsh had never before been put out with him. Never before been angry with him or doubted his decisions. A knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and his shoulders felt like a compressed spring just waiting to be released. He didn't like the acid burning along his nerves, nor the ice coating his veins.

For several long moments she simply watched the tall, well built, Special Forces trained soldier standing at ease in front of her. Agent Finn had always been a top of the line operative. One she believed would never give her cause to doubt.

Just like every other soldier, technician, and scientist assigned to the Initiative; Riley Finn had been hand selected according to a very specific criteria. One that allowed her to pick those most susceptible to indoctrination. Those that had been subjected to dogma and propaganda all their lives. People that were not only use to having somebody else make the difficult decisions for them, but also preferred it.

Those with strong religious backgrounds were, by far the most malleable. It ran down after that, a strong military upbringing helped. Add in a healthy dose of racial bigotry and she had the perfect soldier to capture subterraneans and not ask any question about her research.

Or oppose her methods.

"Agent Finn." Her voice was firm, with a steel edge. It seemed to hold all the answers even before she asked the question, like that was simply a formality. "Recently some of your decisions have been… less then advantageous to our goals, to attaining the Initiative's objectives. This so called relationship with the Summers girl…"

"I don't see were who I date…" He began hotly. It was the first time he had lost his temper with her.

"When they're a threat to this operation," she cut in matching his tone before reigning herself in. Riley had to be handled carefully. Pushed and prodded and led exactly where she needed him to be. Shove him the wrong way now and she would lose everything. It was all within her grasp. So close she could almost reach out and touch it. Grab it.

"I'm sorry," she said taking a calming breath. "Normally; who you see socially, intimately, wouldn't be any concern of mine after a rudimentary background check." She took another breath as if preparing to give him bad news. Which for Riley she supposed it would be bad news. "Unfortunately when I'm presented with a breach of protocols of such magnitude I have no other course of action but to initiate an investigation."

"What breach of protocols?" He demanded. Then just remembering protocols he belatedly adds, "if I may ask, mam?"

"Buffy Summers claimed this young woman, May… no last name, is her cousin from New York?"

"That's right," he answered stiffly. His right cheek twitched slightly.

Walsh nodded thoughtfully as she hefted one of the vanilla colored folders. She flipped it open and casually scanned the contents. "I don't suppose it would surprise you to learn that Miss Summers has no relations; distant or otherwise, living in New York. She has an Aunt and a few cousins in Colorado, an Uncle in Los Angeles, and her father has been spending a good deal of time in the south of Spain."

"Where did… why would you run a check on Buffy?"

"Forrest was concerned about some of the decisions you've been making lately. Like your failure to report a possible HST."

"May isn't…"

"I was referring to Miss Summers," Walsh cut in.

"Buffy isn't a hostile," he responded heatedly.

"Really?" Walsh questioned looking down at the folder in her hands.

"Really," Riley answered with a note of challenge.

"Enhanced strength, speed, reflexes." Her finger slide across the page as she read from it. "Superior fighting skills." She looked up at Riley. "Shall I continue?"

"She's not a hostile," Riley insisted fiercely, but without the anger. He knew if he could just get Professor Walsh to listen to him that she would understand.

Walsh tilted her head slightly while she looked up at him. Her expression was one of guarded curiosity. "If she isn't an HST, what is she?"

Riley took a deep breath. He knew this wasn't going to be easy for Professor Walsh to hear. It hadn't been easy for him to hear it either. "She's an ordinary girl…"

"Not according to this report."

"…with a destiny," he finished ignoring the comment. "She was chosen."

"By who?"

He shrugged uncomfortably as he said, "I don't know. God, the universe, the powers that be," he added with another shrug. "She doesn't know either. Just that since about her fifteenth birthday it's been her destiny to kill vampires and other hostiles. Since sixteen she's been doing that in Sunnydale."

Walsh rose slowly, drawing her cheeks in slightly as she ran her long fingers through her dark blonde hair. Setting her feet she faced Riley squarely. She had already heard most of what he had just said from Forrest, only without the passion.

It gave her the opportunity to craft the response best suited to reign Agent Finn back in. She didn't believe in god – any of them. If it couldn't be measured, studied, dissected, or quantified then it had no place in her universe. Believing somebody had some sort of golden destiny handed down from on high was tantamount to heresy as far as she was concerned.

"Maybe," she conceded. "But don't you think it's far more plausible that what she is telling you is a carefully crafted lie; a lie she may not even be aware of. A lie passed down from her parents so that she wouldn't know, or even suspect the truth about herself, or where her super human powers come from? Perhaps it's something that has been told for generations? Perhaps the Summers side is ashamed of their heritage and May is here to bring them back into the fold? Maybe that's why there are no records of relatives in New York? Don't you think that would be the kind of thing Buffy would want to know about? One way or the other. Wouldn't she be grateful for finally knowing the truth?"

"I suppose?" Riley said with feigned certainty. Fact was he didn't really know anything, except that Professor Walsh was going to go after Buffy no matter what. Which meant he had to get to Buffy before she did.


"Don't see why you had to get yourself all gussied up for a bit of B and E… a little petty larceny on the side," Spike commented dryly while he blatantly strolled down the middle of the wide hall. The thud of each heavy footfall on the white specked, gray linoleum tiled floor echoed with alarming clarity.

As far as May was concerned anyway.

She clung to the ceiling, scurrying along silently like the arachnid that gave her father his powers. What little noises she did make were covered up by the robust din Spike was making. Noise that made May wince internally with every sound.

Her red and blue costume melted into the shadows, making the girl all but invisible. She glanced down at the dark clad vampire. She often wondered why it wasn't more disorientating; walking, talking, seeing the entire world upside down. For her it just seemed that was the way things were meant to be.

What amazed her more then anything though, was the fact that she was walking – unconventionally as it was – down a dark corridor with a vampire and her spider-sense was emanating that same low level buzz she felt everywhere in this town, unless Buffy was around, without being any worse. Once they had gotten a respectable distance away from Giles apartment – flat as the watcher liked to call his living space – her spider-sense had returned to that dull throb she had become accustomed to.

It told her that, for whatever reason, Spike felt he needed to come across as extremely aggressive and overly hostile. From the brief interaction she had witnessed May couldn't fault Spike. If people treated her like they did Spike she doubted she'd spend anymore time around them then necessary. May knew she was probably reading more into the situation then it actually meant; she normally did. After all she didn't know these people, not really, not after just a few days. It simply felt right.

It struck her as odd that she didn't get a stronger sense of danger from him. The vampire in the alley had caused her spider-sense to jump all over the place when they were bantering; never mind when she had been within touching distance.

May put it in perspective with simplicity.

Then she had been fighting for her life; somebody else's life. Right now she was committing a felony.

"Don't feel like having my face plastered all over the late night news," May finally answered after a brief pause.

Spike snorted softly as his booted foot scuffed the floor leaving a black mark. "Don't have to worry 'bout that little problem myself. Vampires don't photograph… film doesn't hold our image, sort of like how mirrors don't show our reflections… unless you got yourself some kind of mojo in the works." A fond smile slid unnoticed across his lips as he remembered one of his first encounters with the slayer; when he filmed a fight between her and one of those nameless drones that had served the Annoying One.

Before that she had just been another in a long line of slayers he had tracked down; one of the few he had actually managed to locate. The first time he had fought Buffy, with her mother coming out of nowhere to save her life; he had known she was different.

That she had broke the rules.

Reminded him a bit of Nikki Wood like that.

Spike had given her the chance to walk away. He wasn't about to kill her in front of her kid. He might be a monster, but he wasn't Angelus, not that the Grand Poofter would ever challenge a slayer to a one on one fight, not till he had softened them up a bit first by taking away every reason they had to live. For Angelus, Wood's little nipper would have been the coup de grace.

For Spike it had been the reason to walk away.

If she hadn't picked the fight up a few hours later… some other nasty would have sunk its teeth into her. He wasn't about to roll over and play dead for her. She knew the rules of the game; she was a hunter, a killer, just like he was and she wanted to dance just like he did. No rules, with quarter neither asked nor given. Just two warriors doing what they were born to do.

He gave his head a morbid shake.

When he had first fought Buffy he thought she and Nikki were a lot alike. When he watched that video he realized just how wrong he was. Buffy was her own slayer; spunky and sassy, inventive as all hell, with a biting retort or sharp quip always at the ready

Buffy didn't break the rules.

She had never bothered to learn them in the first place.

Demonstrated by the fact that instead of staking the Grand Poof like any good little slayer would have; she consorted with him, tried to help him, fell in love with him, and finally had to destroy him.

It was tragic really.

If she had done what she was supposed to do in the first place she would have saved herself years of pain and suffering. She would have been speared so much anguish.

Spike gave himself a mental shake. No need to start feeling pity for the bloody chit, he scolded himself. "What is it we're doing here? And don't hand me that special flavor Kool-Aid crap either."

May smiled remembering their previous conversation earlier that night; when she had quickly changed from her street clothes and into her costume. He had asked where they were going and she had made some offhand comment, that she couldn't even remember a couple minutes later about a special brand of Kool-Aid.

Spike had been more interested in attempting to get a good look at her hidden treasures – fortunately she had mastered the art of the quick change long ago, down to under four seconds – to make much of the comment at the time, but she knew he had filed it away somewhere in that brain of his. May had seen it in plenty like him; they just seemed to remember everything; waiting for that opportune moment when you were vulnerable, off guard, or out of sorts…

And wham.

They hit you with it.

Sinking you a little deeper.

That wasn't what Spike did; but then Spike wasn't all that evil either. Sure he could be a jerk. That by itself wasn't a criminal offense. It just made him a jerk.

The pair came to a stop as they reached the heavy door barring their path. Spike eyed the door speculatively, "want me to take care of this?"

May shook her head as she said, "thanks, but I'd rather not set off any silent alarms." She moved back to the air vent in the ceiling. "I need to replenish my supply of webbing and I'm hoping the chem. lab here will have everything I need to make a fresh batch." The vent popped off quietly after her working on it during her explanation. "Up you go."

For a moment a disbelieving expression creased his brow. If he was running this show it would be a solid boot to the door and grab what he wanted. Only if he was running this show they wouldn't be here. A collage chem. lab possessed nothing he wanted.

If he was in charge they would be rousting some all night liquor store and having themselves a little party later. Her figure was trim and athletic; the red and blue spandex she wore fit like a second skin yet left everything to the imagination. She wasn't buxom like Harmony, and she gave the impression that getting her out of that red and blue get up would take him infinitely more effort then it took her to get into. Some things were worth the effort, and one thing a hundred and twenty years as a vampire gave him that he had lacked when he was human, was confidence.

He knew he could get her out of that costume if he wanted. All he would have to do is turn on the charm and he would have her eating out of his hand. He could be charming when he wanted, he had Harmony after all. Though thinking about it he realized that really wasn't saying very much; now if he had been bedding the slayer that would have been something to boast.

With a growl he wiped the smirk from his face and the image of the slayer's nude form from his mind. He didn't know how it had gotten there. "Things I put up with," he gripped in a loud whisper. He shrugged indifferently then jumped, slid into the small opening that was just wide enough for his narrow, leather clad shoulders to fit through. He grabbed the lip, and like everything else he did, pulled himself up much too noisily.

May sighed as she listened to him. Slowly she backed into the air duct and pulled the vent back into place behind her.


Buffy tossed restlessly as she tried to sleep; her blankets a tangled mess. With the dreams that kept her up most nights it wasn't that unusual for the slayer. Her sleep tonight wasn't interrupted by prophetic dreams depicting horrific events.

Tonight it was concern for a friend's well being.

May had left Giles' apartment in Spike's company. While she didn't trust Spike, nobody with an once of intelligence would trust Spike as far as the tiny blonde was concerned; she did however think that Spike knew he would be nothing but a pile of dust in the proverbial heartbeat if he got any of her friends hurt, or god forbade, killed.

Not that any of her other friends would have gone off alone with Spike.

Something else she was going to have a talk with May about.

For somebody that seemed to have a deep well of common sense; May certainly did make some rather dubious decisions.

When Willow had told her about May going off with Spike, Buffy had wanted to blame Giles and the redhead and all of her other friends. It was something of a minor miracle, but Buffy had managed to hold her tongue and not stick her foot in her mouth. After a moments thought she realized that none of them would have been able to stop May even if they had tried.

Buffy didn't start to get worried though until she had a brief conversation with her mother. She had been rather circumspect and didn't let on that May wasn't with her. She hadn't seen any need to worry her, not when Joyce had taken such an instant liking to the May. It was very similar to her reaction to Faith.

Back in Los Angeles Buffy never would have taken her mom to be so… mothering. It was the only way she could describe her.

Before the divorce, and their move to Sunnydale, her mom had been something of a socialite who was a little too found of the ambrosia. That all changed since they came here, although Buffy thought she used her Gallery showings as…

A soft knock on her door pulled Buffy out of her light, fitful doze. She was on her feet in an instant; with nothing more on then a pair of baggy shorts and a loose fitting tank top she made her way to the door. She didn't have to worry about waking Willow since she was studying with Tara, a witch she had meant when they had all lost their voices.

Pulling the door open Buffy blinked in surprise. Riley stood in her doorway. While she was always happy to see her boyfriend, in the early morning hours wasn't their normal time to get together.

Riley saw Buffy standing in her doorway; a sense of wonder filled him as it always did whenever he gazed upon her. She was a bright ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak world. He didn't care what Professor Walsh tried to convince him of, he would never believe anything else of Buffy.

She saw the sat of his jaw, like he had the worst news in the world to tell her.

A sense of dread filled her.

"What happened?" she demanded harshly. She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. It didn't work.

"We need to talk," he said in quiet seriousness.


Don't Ask Me Why - Billy Joel

All the waiters in your grand cafe
Leave their tables when you blink
Every dog must have his everyday
Every drunk must have his drink
Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

All you life you had to stand in line
Still you're standing on your feet
All your choices made you change your mind
Now your calender's complete
Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

You can say the human heart
Is only make-believe
And I am only fighting fire with fire
But you are still a victim
Of the accidents you leave
As sure as I'm a victim of desire

All the servants in your new hotel
Throw their roses at your feet
Fool them all but baby I can tell
You're no stranger to the street
Don't ask for favors
Don't talk to strangers
Don't ask me why

Yesterday you were an only child
Now your ghosts have gone away
You can kill them in the classic style
Now you, "parlez vous francais"
Don't look for answers
You took your chances
Don't ask me why
Don't ask me why