Author’s Note: Thanks once more to Kar and my reviewers. This chapter took a long time for some reason. So thanks also for your patience. Please keep the feedback coming. Heading into the home stretch with this fic. Kinda hard to believe. Some dialog borrowed from episodes.

In our fourteenth installment Riley Finn returns to Sunnydale, his reception varies.


Chapter Fourteen: Reveille


Have you ever considered not putting four quarts of gel in your hair? It's kinda nice like this.

"Venti half-caff mocha latte."

Yes, because nothing says 'big bad' like poncy curls.

"Large iced chai and a grande mocha with a shot of vanilla."

Oh, I don't know. You still look pretty big to me.

But not bad, Slayer?

"Miss?"

But if you’ve been bad, I might have to punish you.

Oh, Slayer, I confess that I have been very, very bad indeed.

“Miss?”

"Um, sorry, could you repeat that?"

“Buffy, get it in gear, please.”

“Sorry. Next?”

I must say, I share your concern for Faith. I will speak to the Council about it.

Do you have any idea what it means, Giles? Who all those girls were?

It's possible they are Potentials, or perhaps previous Slayers, or even women who've survived due to your work.

So, in other words, no clue.

Quite.

"Here you go, have a nice day!"

The poem...

Frost, yeah, I know. We read it junior year. He was a poet, you know.

I know who Robert Frost is.

Not Frost, Spike.

I beg your pardon?

Spike was a poet, before he was Spike. Dawn swears he told her this while I was gone.

Well, that is most interesting.

"I said light whip. What the hell is this? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Um, I should probably tell you, Spike and I are... uh, see after you left we sorta...

My dear girl, I know. Please under no circumstance provide any details.

You're mad.

I am concerned. Do be careful, Buffy.

"Hi, what can I get-- You!" She blinked a few times. She was only half-there after all, lost in thoughts about Giles and Spike and handcuffs and whether Faith was going to get shivved in the joint. So she wasn't entirely sure that she was really looking at Riley Finn or just having some sort of caffeine-induced hallucination.

"Sorry to just drop in on you like this, Buffy. I need your help."

Buffy tilted her head up at him. He was so... large. "Were you always this tall?"

"I..." He squinted at her. "Look, this isn't the way I wanted it. But something's come up, something big. We don't have much time. You understand?"

Riley needed help. The last time she had seen him he was sporting fresh bite marks and giving her ultimatums. She hadn't thought she would ever see him again. Frankly, she was kinda hoping she wouldn't have to. But he needed help demon wrangling, and a sacred duty was a sacred duty.

She glanced at the clock. Lisa was due any minute. There was a line forming behind Riley. Chantal was barista-ing away like the pro she was. Maybe she could handle it until Lisa arrived. "You need my help?"

He nodded.

"Family emergency, Chantal. I gotta go."

"Got it!" the other girl called over her shoulder.

The customers groaned, but she ignored them. Buffy tossed her apron in the hamper and decided she'd come back for her stuff later. Riley marched behind her. "I want to explain, I just don't have time. I've been up for 48 hours straight tracking something bad, and now it's come to Sunnydale."

"Can you tell me anything about it?"

"I know that I'm putting you on the spot, showing up like this, but ... but you know, here we are. I need the best. I need you, Buffy."

She sighed and stopped with her hand on the door. "Riley, you can stop trying to talk me into it. In case you missed it, I'm already on board. Maybe you want to tell me what we're hunting?"

"Look, I'm sorry this is all so sudden. You know, if we get a minute, I'd really like to sit down..."

"Riley. What. Are. We. Hunting?"

He blinked at her and handed her something black and shiny from his pack. "Suvolte demon. Rare, lethal, nearly extinct, but not nearly enough. It's close."

She turned the toy-looking thing around in her hands and laughed. "Sorry. It's just ... you still carry around all that James Bond stuff. It's so cute! I forgot. Sorry." She gave him a mock salute. "Carry on, soldier."

Riley stared at her for a moment, then just shook his head and adjusted the weapon for her, pressing her finger to the trigger. His hands were so hot. And huge. It felt strange.

There was a nasty roar in the distance. "I think that's our quarry," he informed her.

"Let's go!" she agreed.


--------------

Willow followed her little glowy light, feeling a touch nervous alone in the dark. And tracking Buffy to a spooky old dam? Not feeling safe and secure, at all.

When Buffy called and said she was helping Riley chase some big demon and could she help, Willow was all over it. And her futile watch of the Wells, Meeks, and Levinson houses for signs of basement habitation wasn't exactly exercising her brain much. She'd take about anything to distract herself from thoughts of her little one night stand with Tara, which was apparently a mistake and something they were not ready for.

Or at least that's what Tara had said in the morning. Willow? She was pretty much ready anytime. At least she had succeeded in talking Tara into a coffee date. They could start slowly. She could be patient. Tara was worth it. She knew she was lucky to be getting a second chance with her at all. She’d try and just, you know, avoid thinking about sex in the meantime.

Which Buffy was making difficult. Not that she'd been bubbling over with details of her sex life now that she knew Willow knew about Spike. But based on what little she had said -- which was still too much -- and the perpetual post-orgasmic glow? Willow couldn't help being a little jealous. About the sex-having, not the Spike-having, which was so not her scene.

"Forestry Service! Stay back, ma'am!"

"Um, right. It's Willow, Riley." She peered down over the edge of the crater they were down in. Buffy, Riley, a stranger in black, and a huge dead demon.

"Wills!" Buffy called. "Stay there. We're coming up."

Willow leaned against a tree and waited while they climbed out. Buffy looked jumpy. Willow wasn't sure that the stranger introduced as Mrs. Finn was the problem, but she could tell the couple thought so. "So, mission accomplished?" she asked after a few pleasantries had been exchanged.

"Hardly," Sam Finn explained as they loaded into the car. "That was the mama. She's looking for her eggs and she's way pissed that someone raided her nest."

"We've got to get some rest but then we need to start asking around," Riley went on. "Rumor is some demon in town has them and is looking to sell to the highest bidder."

"We should ask Spike," Willow suggested. Buffy shot her a panicked look.

"Yeah, he's first on my list," Riley agreed.

"What?" Willow exchanged incredulous looks with Buffy. "You think Spike is selling demon babies? I meant he might know something. He kinda keeps his ear to the ground for us these days."

"Yeah, Riley, I, um, would have noticed if there was a stash of eggs in his crypt. I’m there a lot.” Willow saw her wince as Riley’s face went all excuse me. “I... meet him there when he patrols with me,” Buffy covered.

Sam, Riley's wife, looked a little confused. "You're the Slayer and you work with a vampire?"

Buffy chewed her bottom lip. "Spike is... different."

"Hostile Seventeen," Riley said to his wife, who nodded in understanding. "Still want to question him, Buffy."

Buffy was getting pissed off, Willow could tell. At least they were on Revello Drive now. "I can handle Spike, Riley."

"I'll say," Willow whispered. Buffy elbowed her and gave her a sly grin.

"Riley, I'm sure the Slayer knows what she's doing," his wife agreed.

They pulled into the driveway. Inside, Joyce was laying out food, and Dawn was sitting on the couch with a cold look on her face. “Well, looks who’s still alive?” she spat. Willow was glad that for once the anger wasn't aimed at her.

Buffy pulled her aside after a few minutes of uncomfortable chit-chat.. "I have a big favor to ask." Willow nodded. "My stuff is still at The Pump, and I'm hours late to meet Spike." She huffed. "Why doesn't he get a phone?"

"I've got it, Buffy," she assured her friend. “And I’m just gonna guess you want to keep your destination under wraps?”

Buffy stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “It’s so very none of his business and I just don’t want to hear it, you know?” Willow knew. "I'll be back soon."

Willow smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "No you won't."

--------

They had already had the night from hell, driving all the way to Los Angeles and then back with a carful of extended Harris family. And then arriving at Chez Summers to find the Finns? Xander had a feeling the night was going to get even longer.

With Anya happily grilling Sam about their ceremony, it fell to him to chat with Riley. Everyone else was either ignoring the guy or shooting him cold glances. “So, married life; how is it?” He handed the soldier a beer.

Riley nodded his thanks and took a swig. “Why, you nervous?” he teased.

“I love Anya,” Xander pointed out.

“You implying I don’t love Sam?”

Xander sighed. He had been going for friendly but managed to put Riley on the defensive instead. Well, if that was how he wanted to play it… “Just making conversation here, Riley, trying to be polite because I’m still a little sore at you for making me look like an ass.”

He really, really was. Willow said it was because he had a ‘schoolboy crush’ on Riley, which Anya had helpfully explained didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with Riley, just that he thought Riley was super neat and liked being around him. Which sounded about right. He still wasn’t quite sure what women saw in men, much less entertained the notion himself. But there had been a kick in having another regular guy around, even if Riley was a fairly exotic flavor of regular.

“How’s that?” Riley demanded, breaking into his reverie.

Xander flinched at the memory. “Right before you flew off, I gave Buffy some big speech about love and risk and what a great guy you are. Of course I didn’t know at the time that you were renting yourself out as a snack because you couldn’t deal with loving someone stronger than you.”

“You only wanted me around because it was like you boning her by proxy.”

“I—what!?” Xander stared at him incredulously.

“You’re into Buffy. Even now. That’s why you’re so panicky about marrying Anya.”

“I’m only jumpy about the wedding. I’m psyched about being married to Anya.”

“Sweetie?” Anya was suddenly in the doorway. “What do you think about disposable cameras? Sam says we should put them on the tables at the reception so the guests can take pictures and leave them for us.”

Xander took a deep breath. “It sounds like we’d be paying a bunch of money to develop grainy pictures taken by drunken amateurs?”

“I had not considered the expense involved, Xander. You’re so clever!” Anya beamed at him. Right. He totally wasn’t head over heels for this. “Oh, I apologize for interrupting your awkward and heated conversation, but Willow asked me to tell you that Buffy left, and that she called the Sunnydale Arms. They’ve got vacancies.”

“Buffy left? It’s so late. Is she living in the dorms again?”

“Oh, she went to see Sp—special new guy, her special new guy.”

Riley drained his beer. “She didn’t mention a new guy. Good for her.”

Good for her? Yeah, maybe he was.

--------

Dennis startled her by coming out of the walk-in fridge as she was coming out of The Pump's employee bathroom. She'd finally made it back to The Espresso Pump for her stuff and she was in a hurry. Chantal reported that some blond guy had coming look for her and didn't seem to like it when she explained about the man in black and the family emergency.

Buffy just hoped he was home. "Spike?" She cracked the door open. She could hear music, low and moany, so she went in. "I'm sorry I'm late. You really need to get a phone."

He was in his chair, shirtless, a bleeding gash on his arm and a bottle in his hand. "Thought you'd be off snogging soldier boy."

She crossed her arms. "What? You thought I would ch--" cheat on you. That was what she was going to say. Which implied that they were a couple. Like, really a couple. Hadn't they been one for a while, really?

Apparently she needed to make that clearer for him. She crossed the room and straddled his lap. "I wouldn't do that, okay?" She kissed him. "Is that why you're drinking by yourself, sitting in the dark listening to The Cure?"

He snorted. "The Smiths, Slayer. Completely ignorant, you are."

"Whatever," she snitted. She gave him a hard time, but really the only ones he played that were so heavy they gave her a headache were the Sex Pistols. The Ramones were kinda fun. And it wasn’t all punk; there was a spooky overlap with Giles’s music collection, actually. "You really think I'm that kind of girl?"

"Didn't know that I had a claim on you."

She rolled her eyes. "You're my guy now," she whispered against his lips. “Okay? Is that official enough for you?” She gestured for emphasis. “You, me, together.”

"That so, Slayer?"

"That's so." She took the bottle away and guided his hand into her jacket so he could feel everything she wasn't wearing underneath it. "You're hurt," she remarked, examining the wound on his arm.

He waved her off. "Just a scratch. Already healing up. Ran into a nasty Faryl on patrol."

"You patrolled without me?" She pouted at him. It had the desired effect. He pulled her in tight, working one hand between them so he could unbutton her coat while he kissed her.

"You were busy," he reminded her while she caught her breath. "Running around with G.I. Joe."

"Yeah, there was a big demon and there's this whole mystery going on..." His tongue swirled around a nipple. "Which I'll tell you about later," she decided aloud.

Spike laughed and the vibration sent a trill up her spine. "Thought you'd gone from me, Buffy."

He turned his attention to the other breast. When she could speak again she told him "Don't want to go from you." She pulled back so she could see his eyes. "Come to the wedding with me."

His face was all confused looking, but he didn't stop stroking her breast.

"Come to the wedding with me," she repeated. "You know, like a date. We'll drink cheap champagne and do the Electric Slide."

He snorted, trying to cover how pleased he was, but she was getting pretty good at reading him. "Not bloody likely."

"Oh come on, Spike," she teased, reaching down to cup him through his jeans. "I'll make it worth it. Besides," she popped the button on his fly and tugged at the zipper, "you know you wanna dance."

The floor of the crypt was cold under her knees, and she dimly realized that she hadn't done this since regaining her visibility. He hadn't asked and it hadn't really crossed her mind because they were so busy doing other stuff. The shower would have been a good time. She'd remember that the next time her mom went out of town.

She eased her lips down the cool length of him and twirled her tongue around him on the upstroke. He moaned in a gratifying way and clutched at the arms of the chair. She hadn’t done this much, period. With Riley it had been like a diversionary tactic when she didn’t feel up for much or needed to get home to study. Get him off and get out. Spike would be up again in five minutes.

Which was insane and wonderful and intense. And would he like her hand wrapped around what wouldn’t fit in her mouth?

"Christ, Slayer."

Yahtzee. Anyway, comparing Spike-sex and Riley-sex was …. It’s not like sex with Riley had been bad, it had just been… well, not vanilla. More like Neapolitan. Sex with Spike was like all thirty-one flavors plus chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He wasn't really a man, but real men were so delicate. Spike wasn't delicate, at least not physically, and he knew she wasn't either.

"Oh, Buffy."

And she hadn't been enough for a real man. She was enough for Spike. He let her know that every time she was with him, that she was his world. And at the same time, he asked so little of her. Of course, he was probably afraid to ask for too much. Hence the lack requests for blow jobs or dinner dates.

"Your mouth, oh yes, harder - like that. Ah..."

He was so utterly hers. Her own scary, sexy, devoted vampire.

"So good, Buffy. Do any sodding dance you like, love."

She laughed around him and he spent. He wore an expression of utter contentment for a moment and when he looked at her, his eyes were dopey with love. She felt a thrill she knew she shouldn't. "Didn't have to do that, you know. I'd have gone anywhere with you just for the asking."

"You complaining?" she asked with a wry smile.

He snuffed and grabbed her hand to kiss it. "Come up here, pet, let me thank you properly."

Buffy settled into the chair with him once more. "Do you love me?" she asked quietly.

The hopeful look on his face was hard to see. She wished he'd give up on the idea of her loving him back. Because she couldn't do that. Even if she was starting to like him to an extent that kinda resembled love.

"You know I love you, Buffy." She closed her eyes for a moment. Riley had said that too, but then he's stopped somehow. How long would Spike love her? "You're my girl," he told her, his tone making it sound like a prayer. This one just might last.

"Do you want me?" she asked coyly, sliding her hands up his sides to his shoulders. She could feel the answer already.

"Always," he assured her. He gave her his best rakish grin and captured her mouth in a fierce kiss.

She couldn't love him, but she intended to enjoy him.

----------


Waking up with the Slayer in his arms was never going to get old for Spike. In the beginning she'd barely deigned to stay in his bed and rolled away from him when she did. Since the row over the dead girl, she'd been increasingly sweeter. Maybe it was finding out about Forehead Junior. Either way, more and more often she’d burrow under the covers with him, making him warm and dozy, leaving him longing for her that much more when he went to bed alone.

The previous evening flashed across the back of his eyelids as he nuzzled her shoulder. After declaring a number of times that he was hers, she seemed to want to test the extent of his submission, and he was only too willing to comply. The Slayer was familiar with chains for her work, but took to the repurposing like a natural. Surprised him by digging up a scrap of silk for a blindfold, and then proceeded to torture him with a series of alternating soft and sharp caresses until it was nearly impossible to obey her order not to come until she said so. Then when she had worked him back up again, she’d removed the blind so he could fully experience her going at him with the desperation of a sailor on leave. Bouncing hair, heaving breasts, pretty pink mouth calling his name again and again; her eyes glued to his as she clenched around him.

He was almost, but not quite, enough of a ponce to say that this was even more fantastic. To have her cozy and hot against him, her golden hair brushing his arms and torso, tight bum resting against his waking erection, throat bare and undefended because she knew he was hers; this was what poems were made of. But he’d found other ways to channel his creative impulses. In fact, he could think of a number of creative ways to wake her up, but he wasn’t interested in performing for this particular audience.

Then again waking up with Buffy in his arms with Riley sodding Finn as witness? That was just, well he wouldn’t normally use the word, but delicious. He nuzzled her shoulder. “Wake up, pet. We’ve got company.”

Buffy mumbled something incoherent and squirmed against him. But when Riley finally lifted his jaw off the floor and managed to say her name, her eyes went wide. Spike braced himself.

She goggled at Riley and pulled the covers tighter around her. “I’m… what time is it?” she asked, her voice drowsy. Under the blanket her fingers brushed against his thigh. He felt his eyebrows creeping up. Perhaps she had really meant it, all her sweet talk last night.

“What time is it?” Soldier Boy repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me what time it is?”

Buffy blew a stray strand of hair off her face. “Yeah. I was supposed to meet you guys, right? Am I late?”

Cardboard shook his head. “He’s got the eggs, Buffy. And if he’s not keeping them properly refrigerated, they could hatch any minute.”

Spike sneered at Finn. “What the bleeding hell is he on about?”

Buffy sat up, pulling the blankets up with her. “He thinks you’re suddenly an international arms dealer.”

“Well, isn’t that neat.”

“Someone’s selling Suvolte eggs. Riley thinks it’s you.” She screwed up her face. “Was this just a hunch, or did someone give you some bad intel?”

He puffed up all many like. “We got a very specific tip that the dealer is someone who works with the Slayer. Willy said he even chose his codename because of you.”

“Oh well, Willy,” Spike snorted. “There’s a reliable source.” Dealing in Suvolte eggs? Bloke would need a lot of stupid or a lot of swagger to pull that off.

But the Slayer had a thoughtful look on. “What’s the codename?”

“The Doctor.”

“Ohmigod!” Buffy pulled the sheet tight and stood up, leaving the rest of the covers to pool around him. “It’s Dennis.” Buffy grabbed some clothes and disappeared behind a beam.

“Who or what is Dennis?”

“Slayer’s coworker at the coffee place. Lushokite.”

Buffy shot him an apologetic look. “I’ll be back soon.” She turned her gaze to Riley. “He should be on first shift. Let’s go.” Riley nodded.

Spike sighed and shifted on the mattress. Then something caught his notice. “Um, love?” He uncovered his left foot and rattled the chain. The others they’d undone before falling asleep, but apparently they’d missed the one. She sighed and searched the floor for the key, then tossed it to him.

“You keep him chained up?”

“Oh, uh, no.” Buffy turned crimson. “Those are just… recreational.”

Yes, delicious was indeed the word.

------------------------------

Joyce brought the young man his cup of coffee and took a seat across from him. Upstairs the shower was still going and an awkward silence was settling in as they waited for Buffy.

“I heard your health is much better, Ms. Summers,” Riley ventured.

Joyce took a sip of coffee and looked over the rim of her cup at him. “Yes, thank you. You look well, Riley. Married life agrees with you.”

“Yeah.” His smile looked genuine enough. “Sam’s great.” He set his cup down and leaned forward, elbows on knees, like he had a secret to share. “I’m worried about Buffy though, Ms. Summers.”

“She’s been through a lot since you were last here,” she reminded him. She had liked Riley well enough, but she hadn’t been terribly surprised when things ended. How things ended, well, that had been more of a shock. He did seem so terribly normal.

“Yeah. I get that. Death is not a minor event.” He stirred his coffee. “Still. The whole thing with Spike…” Joyce hid her expression by taking another drink. “You know she’s in love with him, right?” She raised her eyebrows. “The look on her face, when she talks about him… If she’d looked at me like that just once, I never would have gotten on that helicopter.”

“Ugh. I didn’t think I was ever going to get all the yolk out of my hair,” Buffy announced as she descended the staircase.

“Egg yolk is good for your hair,” Joyce informed her daughter. “It’s a natural conditioner.”

“Even when it’s blue?” Buffy challenged.

Joyce lifted her hands in defeat. “It was nice to see you again, Riley. Be careful on your mission.” She rinsed out the coffee cups while Buffy and Riley said their good-byes on the porch. “That seemed pretty civil,” she commented when Buffy came back in.

Her daughter shrugged. “We’re both sorry about how things ended, even though it’s good that we ended.” She shook her head. “Married though. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Did you ever think you and Riley would get married?”

Buffy studied her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. I never really thought about it very seriously. I mean, I had all these dumb fantasies when I was in high school about Angel magically becoming human and how we’d live happily ever after. That just feels like a million years ago now.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll never get married.”

Joyce leaned against the sink, feeling a bit weary. “What, no floral arrangements for us to argue over?”

“You can do that with Dawn,” her daughter said glibly as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. “Dawn will get married and probably have a whole passel of kids that I’ll never get to s—sit for often enough for her,” she covered.

That I’ll never get to see. Worse than knowing Buffy didn’t think she had long to live was seeing that she was resigned to it. Joyce made a note to herself to call Giles again. The ‘birth to legions’ prophecy could be another red herring, or turn out to be something horrible, but she was holding on to the idea that if nothing else, it indicated some sort of future for her daughter.

“I have Saturday off,” Buffy reminded her. “Wanna rent a movie or do some retail therapy? Play like you’ve got a nice normal daughter who didn’t just rinse demon goo out of her hair?”

Joyce patted said hair. “I’d like that, but Buffy, I don’t want to feel like you have to pretend with me.”

Buffy smiled. “When I’m with you, it’s not pretending. Then it’s just part of who I am.”

Who you are, Joyce mused. A little blond shoe hound with a part-time job in a coffee shop and a full-time job fighting evil who has fallen for a vampire and doesn’t seem to know it yet. Who might not live out the decade. Truth be told, no, Joyce wouldn’t mind pretending that things were nice and normal for a few hours.

-----

So, I just couldn’t bring myself to have a bash-a-thon or to have Riley catch them flagrante. And I fear the Joyce section is a bit weak, but this chapter just exhausted me somehow. Next time: the wedding day.