Chapter 16

“Can I come in?” Buffy asked, tossing the basketball back and forth between her hands in order to keep herself busy.

Taken by surprise, Riley nodded. “Yeah, sure. I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then gestured vaguely. “Have a seat.”

She glanced at the bed, and a wave of disgust went through her at the thought of touching it. Ignoring his invitation, she said, “Riley, this needs to stop.”

“What?” Sinking back down onto the bed, he furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Spike. I’m talking about your goons attacking us. I’m talking about you shooting him with a tracking whatever and then chasing us all across town!”

Riley leapt to his feet again, reaching out to her, but she jerked away from him. “Buffy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there – they didn’t tell me until we were already –”

“And that makes it better?” she interrupted. “If I wasn’t around, you’d still go after Spike, hunting him down like he’s some kind of rabid animal?”

“Buffy –”

“He’s a person! You can’t treat him like that.”

“He’s a vampire.”

“Well, he’s someone that I care about!” Buffy snapped, getting as much in Riley’s face as her five-foot-three frame would allow. “And I’m going to protect him. Come after Spike again, and you’re gonna find out what a Slayer really is.”

Riley held up his hands defensively. “That’s not my call, Buffy. I’m a soldier; I have to follow orders.”

It wasn’t strictly the truth – Professor Walsh hadn’t actually made retrieving Hostile 17 a priority since his escape back in the fall. She hadn’t even known he was still in town until Forrest had reported the sighting during the Polgara mission. Still, he couldn’t very well tell Buffy the real reason why they’d been pursuing Spike.

“Yeah, but you’re close with Professor Walsh, and she’s the one in charge, right? You’re her favorite; she’ll listen to you.”

“You can’t ask me to –”

“I’m not asking.” Her tone was ice cold, and her eyes met Riley’s in a hard stare. “You’re gonna go to Professor Walsh, and you’re gonna tell her that you think it’s in the Initiative’s best interest to leave Spike alone. And if you think I’m bluffing, you just remember that I’ve fought more demons than your entire squad combined. I’ve faced apocalypses – plural – and I’m still standing. So, if you think you can take me on, you better be ready, because I am not kidding around.”

Riley took a step back, stumbling when he bumped into the edge of the bed. “I believe you. Jesus, Buffy, you don’t have to threaten me.” He remembered all too well what it felt like to fight her, and she’d been holding back with him then. He really didn’t want to see what she was like fully unleashed.

“So, you’ll do it? You’ll talk to Walsh?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” Or at least talk to the guys, he thought. Get them to lay off for a while, until I figure out what to do next.

“You promise?” she demanded.

“Yes. I promise.” Riley sighed, shaking his head. “We’re not the bad guys, Buffy. I know this thing with Spike’s made you think – but we’re on the same side, you and me. Or we should be. Slaying vampires is your job, or – or your destiny, or whatever, and we –”

“You kidnap them and experiment on them,” Buffy cut in. “It’s cruel, and it’s wrong, and –”

“And I don’t see you asking me to take Spike’s chip out,” he said pointedly. “If it wasn’t for that chip, you’d still be trying to kill each other, instead of playing boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when she realized Riley was right. She didn’t want the chip out; she needed Spike muzzled. It was the only reason she’d trusted him. She thought back to their conversation in the graveyard – “I’ll do my best,” he’d said, but he’d been quick to remind her of his natural vampiric tendencies, restrained as they were.

It was a risk she couldn’t take. If the chip came out, and Spike’s best wasn’t good enough… she couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t kill another boyfriend.

“That’s what I thought,” Riley continued, noting her silence. “On behalf of the Initiative, you’re welcome.”

Suddenly feeling much less intimidating than when she’d walked in, Buffy turned to go. She glanced down at her hands where, in her fury, she’d crushed the toy basketball into a crumpled orange mess. “Uh, here. This is yours,” she said, passing it to him and slinking out of the room.

*****

When Buffy got back to her house, Spike was sprawled on the couch watching cartoons, making her question her earlier assessment. He can’t be evil anymore, she told herself. He’s not. Look at him.

Indeed, he looked as innocent as could be, blond head resting on the arm of the sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest as he watched the TV through drowsy, half-lidded eyes. One leg dangled unceremoniously off the edge of the cushion, burrowing the toes of his bare feet into the carpet.

“Hey, you,” Buffy said, drawing his attention away from the cartoons as she climbed on top of him and stretched out lengthwise.

Spike’s face lit up with a soft smile. “Hey,” he greeted her, slipping his arms around her waist. “You’re back. How’s Red?”

“She’s good. Minorly freaking out, but good.”

“And the other thing?”

“Taken care of.” She grinned, the good news nearly bursting out of her. “It should be safe to go back to your crypt now.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You mean…?”

“Yep. Got the Initiative off your back.”

“How?”

“I just gave Riley a friendly reminder that their neighborhood Slayer would wipe the floor with their sorry asses if anything happened to you.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, pulling her head down for a kiss. “Although… you sure they’ll do what you say? Could just stay here instead, yeah?”

“Not so much,” she replied, shaking her head. “My mother’ll be back from San Francisco tomorrow, and I really don’t want to get her involved with all this Initiative crap. I mean, she’s pretty okay with the slaying thing these days, but I want to keep it as far away from her as possible, you know? Besides…” Sliding a hand under his shirt, she lowered her voice to a suggestive tone. “We could do things at your place that we couldn’t do if my mom’s… and oh, my God, remind me to disinfect the countertop before she comes home,” she finished, abruptly abandoning her flirting.

Spike gave her a wicked grin. “Well, then. Might as well give it one more go before you clean, pet.” Buffy squealed as he sat up, scooping her off the sofa and carrying her into the kitchen.

*****

“So… when are you going to tell the others about Spike?” Willow asked, glancing up from her studying to where Buffy was lying on the bed, reading. “’Cause I’ll be honest, I’m pretty much going crazy not being able to talk about it.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t want it to be a big deal, you know? Besides, they definitely don’t need all the details. Just, you know, Spike and I are together now, so…”

“So you better be nice to him?” Willow suggested.

Buffy chuckled. “Something like that.”

The conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. The girls exchanged curious looks, neither expecting a visitor. Willow got up to answer it, her eyebrows shooting skyward when she opened the door. “Riley!”

“Hey, Willow,” he said, already peering over her shoulder to look for Buffy, a sense of urgency about him. “Can I come in?”

Buffy scrambled off the bed, tossing her book aside. “Look, Riley, I’m not going to change my mind about what I said, so don’t think you can –”

“I know,” he interrupted. “That’s not why I’m here. So, uh, can I come in? Can we talk?”

Buffy nodded, and Willow stood back to let him in, slipping out into the hallway herself. “I’ll be, you know,” she said, waving one hand vaguely in the direction of the lounge as she gave Buffy an encouraging smile behind Riley’s back.

“What’s up?” Buffy asked, once the door was closed.

“I was cleaning my room, and I found something you should see.” Riley held up a blue polo shirt. “This was under the bed.”

“It – it’s not yours?” she asked, though she knew the answer even without him saying it. The shirt was about three sizes too small for Riley.

He shook his head. “I didn’t know where it came from, but I figured, maybe… that night, you know? If you could figure out who it belonged to…”

Slowly, she took the shirt from him, staring at it in disbelief. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she said, “I know who it belongs to.”

How could she forget? She’d grabbed a fistful of that shirt to drag him away from another girl. On anyone else, it would’ve been commonplace, but on him…

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Tryin’ to blend in.”

She clutched the shirt in her hands, digging her fingernails into the fabric until the threads began to separate.

“Buffy?” Riley’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “Are you okay? What happened? Who was it?”

Buffy just shook her head, unable to voice her suspicions. It couldn’t be; there had to be some mistake. Maybe it was a set-up. Maybe Riley was just jealous, and this was some scheme to turn her against Spike. There was no way, not after everything they’d shared. He couldn’t have been lying to her the whole time he was comforting her, supporting her… making love to her.

He just… couldn’t.

“I need to go,” she said quietly, choking back tears as she pushed past Riley to the door. “I need…”

How she got to the cemetery was a blur, but suddenly she was standing in front of his crypt, her stomach churning like the ocean during a hurricane.

She slammed the door open with a crash, startling him. He leapt out of his chair, muscles tensed to attack, relaxing slightly when he realized it was her. Trembling, she thrust the shirt at him, shoving it into his chest so hard he stumbled backward a step.

“You want to explain this to me?”

Spike looked down at the blue polo in his hands, obviously trying to conceal the unease that bled through his expression. “That my shirt? Haven’t seen it in ages.”

“It was under Riley’s bed,” she gritted out. “You wanna tell me how it got there?”

He glanced up at her, met her gaze, and she knew.