Chapter Eight:

The wind was howling through the trees as she ran recklessly through the thick underbrush, branches catching and ripping her clothing and slapping across her face. She was afraid to look back, afraid she'd fall or find him right behind her, reaching for her. Her hand went frantically to the shoulder rig she wore, reaching for the 9mm that she kept in the holster.

Empty!

Her heart raced, breath whistling in and out of her lungs as she pushed herself to go faster. A clearing loomed ahead, the moon shining dimly through the clouds. She'd have to cross it to get through to the other side of the park. Terror gripped her as she reached the edge. Her head pivoted frantically as her eyes searched the gloom of the trees for the figure that was stalking her. A snap of a branch made her whirl one way, the brush of a leaf against a body turned her the other. The low gasping sounds of her breathing seemed incredibly loud to her ears. Every shadow seemed to claim an indistinct figure, every trembling branch caused by a dark form pushing past.

Buffy forced herself to try to be calm, shoving the damp wispy bangs off of her forehead with a trembling hand that left a streak of dirt to mix with the blood from where a branch had cut her face. She searched the clearing and the surrounding woods as carefully as her fear would allow, flinching at every sound. The waiting was killing her, waiting to see if her pursuer was still following, if maybe she had lost him. She couldn't stand it anymore.

She found a nice size branch that had blown down in the last storm and picked it up like a club. Then she took her first steps out into the clearing. She looked like a doe, her head up, nose to the wind to check for scent of predator. Her movements were slow, almost jerky, her body shaking in fear.

"Ahh, there you are." His voice sent chills of terror skittering down her spine almost making her freeze.

Buffy turned quickly, spying him at the edge of the clearing, his body a dark blurry presence in the sheltering shadows.

His white teeth flashed though, showing brightly in a grin of perverse pleasure at her fear. "Are you scared?" He laughed, his head tipped back. "You should be. I've waited for months to find you like this, to be alone with you like this. You owe me and now," she saw his body move as he shrugged his shoulders, "I get to kill you."

Buffy started backing away, the branch held out in front of her like the blade of a sword. It was feeble protection at best but it was also all she had.

The man started forward, slowly following her into the midst of the clearing, enjoying his game of cat and mouse. He would move off to his side, forcing her to turn to keep him in her sights. Her steps would change direction and soon she was heading back towards the dense part of the park and away from the relative safety of the lights. She tried to keep him in sight and also to glance around, searching for escape.

He reached out suddenly, the knife a glimmering blur as he slashed at her. He missed, but his eyes gleamed in the light and she knew he meant to miss her that time.

Suddenly screaming as loudly as she could, she brought the branch down, trying to hit him with it. Instead, he ducked back and the momentum carried her around, knocking her off balance. She stumbled, desperately trying to stay up, her ankle twisted, sending shards of agony through her and she collapsed down on the ground.

He was on her before she could move, knocking the branch away from her and pushing her down to her back. His bigger body knocked the air from her lungs and he took the opportunity while she struggled to catch her breath, to grab her wrists. Using a zip tie he pulled from the back pocket of his pants, he fastened them together, and held them above her head with one hand. His other held the knife, a huge thing that glittered evilly in the dim light of the clearing. She fought against him, fought his seemingly massive weight as he ground his hard body into her softer one. His hips pressed against hers, his thighs forcing her legs apart until she had no choice but to feel him, hard and throbbing through the layers of their clothing.

He let the knife slide down her cheek, watching as her eyes followed its path, the tip barely pressing against the softness of her skin. It slid down over her jaw line, leaving a thin, red line against her throat before stopping at the top button of the blouse she was wearing. She struggled furtively under him only stopping when the tip of the knife pressed into the upper swell of her breast, pushing through the skin.

The pain was horrible, a red hot slash that had a scream backing up in her throat. She instantly stopped moving, her breath a furious panting. He watched the small wound fill with blood and start to drip, leaving a trail of red that in the dim light of the clearing shone an eerie black.

"Why?" she heard herself cry out and berated herself for the weakness. Men like these didn't need a why. Men, no, animals like this one did it for the pleasure, for the thrill, to dominate and to subjugate. There was no why here, only pain and most probably death. She had to find a way out.

Fresh air circled around her skin as the knife made its slow path, cutting off the buttons to her blouse until her upper torso was bare but for the lacy, thin covering of her bra. She felt his tongue against her breast, licking at the trail of blood. His mouth opened over the wound, his tongue laved at it sending bright flickers of pain and making her moan.

"Just as I thought," he hissed, staring down at her, the light behind him leaving his face still shadowed and unrecognizable. "You're just like the rest of them. A little force, a few kisses and you all want the same thing, every one of you. You want this," he said, thrusting his hips against her groin, letting her feel him heavy and thick against her. "You're a slut. I thought you'd be different, I'd hoped ... But it doesn't matter now, it's too late. You'll die like the rest of them, screaming and begging for mercy."

She cringed back as his face came towards her, felt the heavy, hard strength of his fingers twisting her jaw cruelly and holding her still as his mouth ground down on hers. He kissed her brutally and with such strength that her lips mashed against her teeth, cutting the fullness of them so that blood filled her mouth. Her body bucked and fought under this new onslaught. She had to fight, she just couldn't allow him to take her, to amuse himself with her body while she lay like a dead piece of meat. She knew that he'd kill her. She knew it. This, the sex, for him was nothing more than foreplay leading to the final thrill. Her death.

Buffy tore her mouth out from under his, feeling blood from her torn lip dripping down her jaw. She fought, writhing under him, trying to dislodge him from her body. Her hands throbbed, the zip tie digging into the flesh of her wrists, making them bleed. She heard a strange keening sound and knew it was coming from her but she had no more control over her actions and only one primal thought left, to get away, to live.

He cut through the waistband of her jeans pushing them off her struggling legs with barely a sign of effort. Bare now, her legs gleamed in the shadowy light. She used them, kicking at his legs, at his thighs. She screamed, long and loud and he just laughed.

With a flick of the knife, her bra was sliced open. He pulled the cups to the side, admiring the rounded perfection they exposed. The knife tip traced across the firm buds of her nipples, pricking with tiny precise flicks of his wrist.

He dropped the knife next to him but out of her reach, moving to grasp the delicate lace of the tiny red silk panties she wore and ripping them from her easily. Then his hand moved and she felt it fumbling at her stomach as he undid his own clothing. A mere moment of fumbling and suddenly she felt the hard head of his cock nudging at the dry flesh between her legs.

The light of the moon shone out from behind the clouds that had dimly veiled it, giving her, finally, a chance to see her attacker. Her heart stuttered, disbelief and horror warring with pain on her face. Her breath stilled in her chest as it suddenly became full of more than pain, betrayal a worse sort of emotional angst that tore at her heart. Her head shook slowly as she tried to deny what her eyes were seeing.

"You're doing this? You're killing..." She shut her eyes, trying to ignore the harsh, poking thrusts between her thighs, thrusts that burned and hurt as he started to force himself into her unprepared body. "Why?"

He leaned over her, holding her hips still with one hand, the other still above her head. "Because of you," he whispered eerily into her ear and thrust hard into her.

Buffy sat up, screaming and pushing the smothering blankets off her body. Her heart raced as she stared around the room, looking for him. The pain faded as the dream did until it's hold upon her was psychological instead of physical and she grabbed a pillow, holding it to her stomach as tears streamed down her face. "Just a dream, Buffy," she whimpered, rocking herself. "Come on, it was just a dream, get yourself together."

A sob caught her unprepared. She forced herself out of bed, staring in horror at the clock. She'd slept no more than two hours, but knew she wouldn't be going back to bed. She couldn't climb back into that bed right now, not with the horror of that dream still fresh in her mind.

Why would her subconscious chose him to portray the brutal rapist and killer in her dreams? She knew a psychologist would have a field day on her right now. Murder cop with night terrors that deal with psychopaths that are killing her and they have the face of the man she thought she was falling for. Yeah.

She needed to do something, she needed action to put this out of her mind. She quickly stripped out of the boxers she'd slept in, and throwing on a pair of bike shorts to go with the tank top she still wore, she went into her office. She bypassed the weight equipment, needing something fast and physical, something that would sweat the poisons of the dream out of her system. Her heavy bag hung in the corner, her light gloves hanging next to it from a hook. She ignored the gloves, wanting to feel the punishment on her hands today. Stretching her legs, she could feel the muscles protesting slightly then starting to warm. She stretched one arm above her head, grabbing it with her other hand just at the elbow and pulling. She repeated with the other, shaking and rolling her head. She stepped barefoot to the bag, lifting her hands and fisting them as she eyed her opponent.

The first tentative punch sent a slight zing up her arm, the next, not quite so tentative, tingled the muscles. She punched and ducked, weaving a little around the bag, using her knee to kick and then the side of her leg. As she warmed up, her movements became more sure, her fists punching the leather harder. A duck then a sweep with her leg under the bag, made her smile at the rightness of the movement.

Her mind took over, numbing to all else around her. The bag took on features of different people. Adam Walsh received a snap kick to his face and then a punch with all the force she could put into it. The captain got a broken nose for his troubles. Sweat streamed down her body, plastering the lightweight tank top to her curves. Her hair clung to her head in wet ringlets.

And when her arm was grabbed, startling her, she turned, leading with a right hook.

Riley jumped, staring at the fist that stopped just an inch from his nose. "Whoa, I give up. Take it easy slugger."

Buffy dropped her arms, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. "What are you doing here?" She went to the tiny fridge she had next to her desk and grabbed a bottle of water. Breaking the seal, she opened it and drank half of its contents in one long pull. She grabbed a towel from off a shelf and wiped off her face, looking at him while she waited for his answer.

"Killer? Bodies? Police officers?" He sighed. "Any of this sound familiar to you?"

"You're a riot, really. Why don't you go make some coffee and I'll grab a quick shower."

He smiled and tugged at the towel she'd thrown across her shoulders. "I could scrub your back?" he offered. "I know, it's a rough job, but some..."

"Shut up and go make coffee." She took the end of her towel away from him and snapped him with it when he turned around.

Smiling, she went to her room and into the bathroom beyond, stripping out of her sweat soaked workout clothes to get in the shower.

The hot water pounded on her body, finishing the job of releasing all the stress the dream had given her. She stood under it, just enjoying the steady pulsing flow after washing. She finally felt she could think now.

The shower door opened, startling her. A cup of steaming caffeine was shoved at her. She took it, staring once more at Riley's face as his eyes roamed up and down her naked body.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she almost shrieked at him. Turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wrap around her slim frame. She pushed past him, shoving the mug of coffee in his stomach and stood across the room, leaving water to pool on the tile floor. "I can't believe you. What the hell is going on in your head?"

Riley grinned, unrepentantly. "Buffy, you know I've always wanted to take you to bed. Come on, don't you wonder what it would be like between us? Admit it." He sat the mug down on the long counter and took the two steps that brought him in touching range of the mostly naked beauty. "I really care for you, Buffy. If you'd let yourself, you know you care about me the same way."

Shock kept her still and allowed him to push his fingers into the deep cleavage caused by the towel she'd wrapped around herself and yank her towards him. Surprise is what kept her from pushing him away as he pulled her wet body against his, holding her securely in his long arms. Amazement kept her from knocking him to the floor with a well placed knee when his lips came down on hers.

His lips were firm and moist, talented upon her own as he rubbed and cajoled her into a response. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting faintly of coffee and mint, tangling with her own as she felt the first inescapable stirrings of passion. Her body responded, her arms slowly sliding up his long body, her hands sliding into his hair. She heard him groan and pull her closer, his body the only thing holding the towel to cover her nakedness.

"God," he groaned. His mouth captured hers one more time, his hands fiercely running over the smooth skin of her naked back. He cupped her buttocks, lifting her until she sat on the cold Formica counter, pushing her slender thighs apart to fit himself between. "I've wanted to do this a long time."

Whether it was his words or the cold of the Formica under her naked bottom, Buffy suddenly realized what she was doing. She couldn't have sex with him; he was her partner, a member of the same police force she worked for, and her best friend. She pushed him back, struggling with him when he tried to kiss her again.

"What... ?"

She was saved from an explanation as her phone rang and his pager went off at the same time. She managed to push him back, sliding off the counter while wrapping the towel securely around her and grabbing her robe off of the back of the door as she went to answer the phone.

He followed behind her, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed some numbers and said hello almost the exact same time as she did.

Buffy listened, grabbing a pen and wrote an address down on the back of an envelope and then ran to get dressed.

He came in as she was adjusting her shoulder rig, checking the load on her 9mm before slapping it into the holster and securely snapping it. She turned, anger shooting from her eyes, before she grabbed her brush and ran it through her wet hair quickly. "We got another body," she said, trying to control the violence she was feeling toward him now.

"Yeah, I know. Look, Buffy," he ran a hand through his own hair, shoving the tangle blonde mass off of his forehead. "We need to talk about what almost happened in there."

"Yeah, but we got a case to work. The job is more important. And the only thing that matters." She grabbed a light jacket to throw over her rig and started to walk by him.

"What do you mean, the job's more important? Do you not know how I feel about you?" He tried to take her in his arms again and she held him off with just a look, rage, confusion and a surprising need blazing from her green eyes.

"Dammit, Riley. We can't talk about this now. We have another dead girl, and a killer who isn't taking much time between kills. We don't have time to talk about how big of a mistake we almost just made. So, unless you want me going on my own, shut up and let's move." She grabbed his arm and shoved him out of her room.

They took his car, him speeding all the way there, his red and blue bubble light flashing off the dash as they flew by other traffic. Buffy clutched onto the door handle and held her breath every time he'd take a corner, seeming to come up on two wheels.

She berated herself for what happened, blamed him, and worried what this would do to their relationship.

She only spoke up once on the nine minute long drive across town. Another car, one with Canadian license plates pulled in front of them, he'd swerved, narrowly missing clipping the car next to them. Horns blared and she'd had to brace herself, sure that they were about to crash. The words that came out of her mouth weren't for him though, only a prayer to whoever was listening that they should get there okay.

She could see the lights flashing ahead of her and the traffic became a mess as people slowed to a crawl to rubberneck at all the cops. Riley cursed and smacked his hand down on his steering wheel, finally pulling over to the side of the street and stopping the car. "It'll be faster if we walk."

Riley got out and locked the car, hurrying forward to almost run the next two blocks.

The body was in the park, and they skidded their way down a steep hill instead of walking around the next two blocks to get to the entrance. They could see the white sheet covering the body from the top of the hill and had to push through a group of photographers to reach it.

Buffy snapped at the first uniform she saw. "Get those fucking news people behind a barricade and do it now." She then hurried forward to catch up with her partner, hearing the muttered "bitch" come from the uniform's mouth. Yeah, she was a bitch. She knew it. And he would find out how much of one she was next chance she got.

Riley was kneeling over the body, which was lodged against a half buried rock. Her hand and most of her leg were floating in the river she was lying next to. She croched down next to him, peering under the sheet that he lifted higher for her. A gasp came from her throat and it was all she could do not reach up and rub her eyes in disbelief. The body, naked again, was of a slim, tiny brunette about twenty years of age. She'd been stabbed, but no where near as bad as their first victim. Little stab wounds could be seen, around her breasts, on her stomach and thighs, across the bare flesh of her sex. Her throat was slashed; a deep cut that had almost decapitated her.

The smell of blood was still heavy in the air, the body cold but not in full rigor.

"She hasn't been dead long. What is it, about eight? Damn, he couldn't have left her here not two to three hours ago." Buffy scooted around, almost stepping into the water to get a better look. "Not enough blood under the body, this is a secondary crime scene. Maybe even a body dump."

Riley turned and looked at the long hill they had just come down and the distance between where they now stood and the top. "No way he tossed a body that far. With the beginning of rush hour traffic on the road, no, he had to have brought her in from the park entrance."

"We should check it out anyway." She called another uniform down and got him to round up a group of about ten officers. She had two check out the hill for signs of blood or a body falling, but with the traffic coming down the hill, any signs of disturbance could be someone's heels. Unless blood was found, there was no way to be certain. They put out a call for tracker dogs and closed down the park. The chief, after a heated discussion with Riley, called the Mayor to get it approved. Blockades went up at all entrances as a detail started making a slow but thorough sweep, the dogs were brought in and given the scent from a scent pad pulled from the body.

Buffy stayed with the body, watching the crime scene crew as they finished taking there samples and fingerprints. Finally, the coroner's van was allowed in to take the body. She stared at the face of the girl before they covered her up, a face that held an expression of horror and pain, an expression she recognized as the one that had been on her own face during her dream this morning.

Tape was set up, marking the location of the body, and the gurney carrying her was taken away. Buffy stopped to speak to the CSU techs. "I need your reports as soon as possible."

Daniel Osbourne, a member of the crime scene unit and someone she'd worked with many times before, nodded. "You got it Buf, as quick as we get anything."

"I need the print card you took, I want to check the prints out myself." She stared into Oz's eyes, deep and filled with sympathy and understanding.

"You know I'd do anything I could to help you out. But, that's our territory, not yours." He looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. "Okay, damn it. But I didn't give you this, got me?" He took the card that was tucked safely into an envelope and handed it to her.

"You're the best, Oz," she said, smiling at him and patting him on the cheek. "I won't forget this."

"You'd better not, because you now owe me." Oz packed up the rest of his stuff. Until the primary crime scene could be discovered, he was done.

Buffy, card in hand, went to find her partner.

Riley wasn't difficult to find, a sudden baying and barking of the dogs leading her right to where he was. They had found the primary kill spot. S

he walked up, careful of her steps and stood next to him as they took in the horror. Clothing, female and lacy, lay in cut up slices, thrown in different directions from where a large pool of blood was slowly soaking into the ground. Red pump heels were within ten feet of each other, one with it's heel broken off. Both showed signs of being dragged which Buffy could see from where they were standing. Something sparkled in the grass, caught in a ray of sunshine. An earring, the post bloody, lay in the grass. She closed her eyes, going back into her mental file to the body. Was she wearing the other one? Could the killer have taken it as a souvenir? She wasn't sure.

"Those clothes don't look like what someone would wear for a walk in the park," Riley said as he gestured towards the shoes with their mile high heels. "I can't even see trying to out run anyone in those."

Buffy remembered her own recent hatred towards a pair of heels and sighed.

He heard her and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing the tense muscles with delicate strength. He found a twist of knots and dug in with his thumbs feeling her relax slightly and moan, her head lolling forward. Then she tightened back up and pulled away from him, skirting the edge of the crime scene. "Buf," he said quietly, waiting until she looked away from the grizzly scene and looked at him instead. "We need to talk about what happened."

She nodded her head. "But not here, and definitely, not now."

He could hear the crime scene techs coming toward them and stepped aside to let them do their work. His hand snaked out and grabbed the hem of her jacket as she tried to walk away from him once more. "When, then?"

Dammit, she thought. It was a mistake, why couldn't he see that? "Later," she sighed, feeling her irritation level rise as he still tugged at the jacket.

"When later?" he persisted. "Tonight? I could come by your place? I could bring dinner," he offered.

"No, not tonight. I have a date." She lifted her head and looked into his face, seeing a fleeting look of hurt settle then disappear.

"The doc again?" The look might have been fleeting but his voice sounded like it would take a team of doctors to mend.

"Yeah, he's coming over tonight for dinner. I'm sorry." She turned to face him, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to them.

Everyone was working, the CSU techs doing their thing, collecting samples, taking pictures. The dogs and their handlers were gone, a few uniforms were stringing crime scene tape. And them, that was it.

She put her hand on Riley's arm. "That kiss was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened." His face turned stony and hard and she knew she was losing him. "We're partners, and we're friends. Anything more, well, it just complicates things too much. You know that."

A multitude of emotions flitted across his face, disbelief, hurt, anger, and then finally, resignation. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. You've got this, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Where are you going?" Concern made her reach out and touch his arm again, and she flinched when he pulled away.

"Move my car. I'll be back soon and then we can go into the office." He turned and almost trotted off, his long legs eating up the distance as she watched him go.