Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Buffy and certainly not CSI. I'm just borrowing the characters.

AN: First off, sorry for the delay. This weekend was a real killer.

Don't know where this takes place seeing as Riley would be in Sunnydale at this time and John would be in Miami. The only advice I can give is that you don't think too hard on it. Takes place just before Riley leaves and right before John commits suicide.

This one is for mmooch who wanted Riley and John to have a talk about Buffy/Calleigh who are too strong and independent for them. It turned out a bit … weirder than I was going for. Forgive me and happy holidays!

Riley slumped lower in the booth with a sigh. He could feel the alcohol doing its job, turning everything slightly hazy and his eyes drooped in a long blink. Still, his mind wasn't here in this dirty little bar. His thoughts were with Buffy–his strong, confident, kick ass girlfriend. Except, was she his girlfriend? Middle of nowhere, Iowa had taught him many things. It taught him how to fight, gave him a love for his country and taught him always to protect his woman. It might have sounded whiny, but Buffy didn't need his protection. If anything, it was usually him that needed protecting.

He took a large gulp from the bottle set before him at this thought. He could just imagine what his father would say–him, a big strong soldier, needing protection from tiny little thing like Buffy. He snorted in disgust; not that he would ever be able to tell his father as then he would have to mention vampires and demons. They were likely to have him committed.

He pulled himself from his drunken pity party as the booth across the table suddenly became occupied. Riley turned his gaze around the room, finding many an empty table. God, just what he needed, to be hit on at a time like this.

Except, the man next to him didn't try to hit on him. This caused Riley to take a closer look; he squinted bleary eyes, taking in the military-esque cut of his hair, the slightly rumpled suit, and the cop's eyes that were looking back at him. There was also a hint of something else in those eyes. Riley couldn't place it exactly but it reminded him of Forrest's eyes, a hint of madness lurking in them. Where did it come from? Forrest's madness had come from the realization that the monster under the bed was real, and that it probably had tried to eat him as a child. What could possibly have happened to this man to put that look in his eyes?

The man took a sip of his drink, liquid courage, before he tipped it towards Riley, "To women; the ones you hate to love but can't live without."

Ah, that explained a bit, not the madness but the sadly beaten down look. It was the look that military men, the protectors, got when they dated a woman stronger than them. It didn't necessarily mean that the woman he was dating was physically stronger than him but she was the one wearing the pants in their relationship.

Riley tipped his own glass with a nod. The man was a kindred spirit in the dating ring. "So, what's she like?" He found himself asking. Anything to get his mind off his own relationship problems. Maybe hearing someone else's would make his own seem not so bad.

The man snorted into his drink. "Tiny little blond thing with more balls than any man I've ever met."

Ouch, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The man, need to ask his name, had just described Buffy to a 'T'. Riley swirled the last of his beer around the bottle, raising his hand to flag down the waitress. A moment later had him supplied with enough alcohol to, hopefully, get through this conversation.

The man relaxed into the cheap, sticky booth with a sigh. "What about you?" He looked vaguely embarrassed for a moment. "I'm John, by the way, Detective John Hagen."

The explained the military cut, the cop eyes, and some of the madness. He wondered if the madness came from undercover work or something else. "Riley," he nodded. There was no use giving rank or a last name. It was better not to anyway. No use dragging someone into the dark if they tried to find or investigate him. "And my girlfriend is much like yours, tiny and blond and chock-full of snark and protective urges."

"We wouldn't love them so much if they weren't the way they were, but do they have to castrate us all the time?" John asked sadly. "I got into this job to make a difference, to be somebody but anytime I try to do something good she's right there telling me I'm doing it all wrong–or looking at me like I'm the devil incarnate," he groused in disgust.

Okay, so their problems weren't exactly the same no matter how much their girlfriends might sound the same. Riley had gotten into the military out of some form of obligation. His transfer to Sunnydale showed him that he could do good … until he realized what a complete nut Walsh was. He had jumped at the chance of helping Buffy, of doing some real good. Was that why he was still with her? He loved her but she wasn't the kind of woman he dreamed of marrying. His thoughts turned to Angel and her almost obsession with him … Riley didn't think he was the kind of man she had dreamed of marrying either. So why were they still together?

"Why do you stay with her?" Riley found himself asking. He really was turning into a Scooby, wasn't he? His brain to mouth filter had just vanished.

A feverish light entered the man's pale eyes. It made Riley wary. It seemed the man had latched onto this woman and that was never a good thing. He remembered the time Forrest had become interested in a woman and it hadn't ended well. The only reason the woman had survived was because of Graham's quick thinking. After that, they had watched Forrest all the closer. "I love her. She just doesn't understand that I can be a hero too. Everything would be perfect if I could just make her see."

Maybe it was time for a strategic retreat. He wasn't running, Riley thought. He wasn't. And if he were it certainly wouldn't be because the crazy man was scaring him. He finished the last of his beer quickly and made his excuses.

Riley took one last look back at the defeated slump of the man's shoulders and had a horrible wave of premonition. The feeling was so bad that it had him digging out his untraceable phone.

"This is Agent Riley Finn and I've got a recruit for you."

John Hagen wanted to be a hero, fine, Riley just hoped he could live with the knowledge that came with that occupation.

Fin