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The next night she was patrolling alone- mainly to avoid the awkwardness that had characterised last night’s patrol with Spike- and continually cursing herself for being a complete idiot. Spike had hardly said anything to her all through their two-hour patrol and it had hurt more than she could describe. But maybe she deserved it for foolishly leading him along- which was what she had been doing for weeks now, she realised. But God, a part of her did want him, wanted him so much. There seemed no way to reconcile these two sides of herself though.

Sighing, she moved on through the graveyard, spinning her stake in her hand. Suddenly, she sped up as she heard sounds of a fight up ahead- and rushed over when she saw Riley clumsily trying to fight off a large demon. The demon backhanded him and sent him flying to the floor just as Buffy launched herself at it, lashing out with a high kick that sent the demon backwards. Glancing at Riley as he struggled to push himself to his knees, she moved forward and attacked the demon again, letting out all of her pent-up frustration on the demon. Finally, she broke its neck and it dropped to the floor, dead.


She turned to Riley then and frowned as he staggered as he finally got to his feet.

“I was doing fine by myshelf.”

She frowned again when she stepped closer and smelt a distinct waft of alcohol coming from the soldier.

“Sure you were. Are you drunk?”

“No, of courshe not. Just came out for a bit of fun.”

“Not sure your wife’s going to be happy about you almost getting yourself killed.”

“I’m shure she won’t care,” he slurred, bending to pick his gun and almost falling.

She was at his side in an instant, steadying him.

“Maybe you should get home.”

“What’s the point? Not like she wants me there.”

She sighed, not sure how to deal with the Finns’ marital problems.

“Yeah, well, maybe when you’ve both had some sleep, you’ll sort things out. Come on.”

Wrapping an arm around his waist, she ended up practically dragging Riley back to his house.



“Have you got a key?” she asked him as they reached the front porch, “I’m sure Sam doesn’t want to get woken up.”

“You know, she’s nothing like you,” Riley slurred and she rolled her eyes as she tried to steady him on his feet.

“Key, Riley?”

“I was still in love with you for a really long time.”

“That’s, err, nice. You should get inside,” she got out, trying the door in hopes that it was open.

“I think I still am, a little bit,” he murmured and she turned to him in shock.

Before she could say anything though, he grabbed her and placed a sloppy kiss on her lips.

“Riley!” she bit out, heaving him away as she wiped at her mouth, “I think you need to go to bed and sleep it off, don’t you?”

She was trying her best to stay calm but her patience was quickly waning.

“Why don’t I come to your bed?”

He moved towards her again, reaching for her clumsily, but she caught his arm, twisting it slightly until he stopped with a cry of pain. He pulled his hand away abruptly and she loosened her grip, her expression steady as she met his narrowed eyes.

“It’s always been him, hasn’t it?” he bit out.

“What are you going on about, Riley?” she asked wearily.


He moved faster than she would have expected, grabbing both of her arms, his face up close to hers.

“Were you sleeping with him when I was still here?” he shouted.

Forcing herself to stay calm and not lash out at him, she met his gaze squarely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now let go of me.”

“You’ve always wanted him. Even though he’s a monster. I’ve seen the way you look at him now. It makes me sick.”

“Right now, you’re making me sick,” she bit out, moving out of his grasp.

“Is that what does it for you, Buffy? Dead men?”

“Better than anything I ever had with you, Riley,” she bit out, sugary-sweet.

“You whore!” he spat out, reaching for her again, “You little vampire whore!”

Finally, her patience came to an abrupt end and she punched Riley in the nose, sending him flying back into the door. He hit the door and crumpled to the floor, unconscious. With a sneer at the unconscious man, she flexed her hand and turned away, making her way down the path without looking back.


She had only reached the end of the path when she stopped, sensing an all-too-familiar presence. She waited just a few seconds for him to show himself and, sure enough, a moment later, Spike appeared from out of the shadows. His eyes met hers and she saw immediately that he had witnessed the little scene between her and Riley.

“Walk me home?” she asked softly, meeting his bright gaze.

He nodded and fell into step beside her, a not-quite-comfortable silence descending over them.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Spike asked after a few moments of silence.

“Not even my feelings,” she answered with a slight smile and a shake of her head- even though her encounter with Riley had left her more shaken-up than she dared to admit. Not because he had scared her, but because she thought he might have been closer to the truth than she was comfortable with.

She kept sneaking glances at Spike out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction- but he kept his eyes forward, his face an expressionless mask. She sighed and turned back to her own inner turmoil, taking little comfort in the vampire’s presence beside her. They reached her house and he hesitated on the porch as she opened the door, but she turned to him and he tilted his head slightly, watching her.

“Come in?”

He studied her for a long moment, his eyes boring into her, and finally nodded, following her into the house and through to the kitchen.


Now they were alone in her house- except for a sleeping Dawn- she was suddenly hit by a wave of nerves and she fiddled with the washing-up, deciding against putting the dishes away. Spike stood just behind her but she could sense his every little movement and for some reason it was making her even more nervous. Riley’s words were racing round her head and she leant against the side, her hands braced on the worktop.

“Buffy, love?” Spike called, a cool hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

She let herself enjoy his cool touch for a second, before she turned to him with a tortured expression.

“I think he was right, you know,” she whispered, her hand- shaking slightly- raising to graze his cheek, “And it scares the hell out of me.”

“Buffy?” he asked, his voice low, rough, as he raised a hesitant hand to her arm, his fingers skimming over her bare skin.

“It’s always been you,” she whispered achingly softly, leaning into him as he gripped her a tiny bit harder. She flicked her eyes to his heavy-lidded gaze, her fingers stroking over his cheek and coming to rest against his neck.

“Always,” she repeated, and then their lips met in a tender kiss, his other arm winding round her gently. Her free arm twined around his neck and she pressed herself closer to him, wondering how she could have gone so long without his kiss.