Riley was still struggling to come to terms with the revelations brought forth by the musical spell just yesterday. Struggling with what had happened to Buffy. God, what she must be feeling now. She had been ripped from her peaceful rest back into her life of violence and every reaction she had had since then made more and more sense.

It was only at the beginning, when she had been so disoriented, that there had been any sign of what she had revealed – but then she had hid it. She had firmly placed her mask on and had got on with her life, hiding this huge secret until it finally came out with disastrous effect.

He had felt it like a kick to the stomach and not for the first time, he wished he had spoken up when he had first heard of Willow’s plan. If he had just told Giles, there might have been a chance that Buffy could have been left in peace. Instead she was now dragging herself through a life that held even less appeal than before, yet still trying to play the same role as always. He should have seen it before, should have glimpsed what hid behind the mask, but he had been blind.

Now he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she had gone through – what she was still probably going through – and there was only one solution to that, as always: a drink and a few wise words from an old vampire.



He found Spike slumped in his armchair, already working his way through a bottle of whiskey. Riley settled beside the vampire without a word and took the bottle handed to him, taking a large mouthful. He let the liquid slide down his throat, savouring it for a moment, and returned the bottle to Spike.

They continued this silent routine for several long moments, until Riley finally spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking about Buffy.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

“About what she’s been through.”

Spike still said nothing but Riley spotted the dark shadow flit across his face.

“I just can’t believe it,” he murmured, “She was in Heaven.”

“Don’t see what’s so bloody unbelievable about it,” Spike huffed, “She was a warrior, a protector of the people. Killed the bad things.”

Riley studied the vampire’s angry expression for a moment and then spoke up in realisation.

“You knew.”

Spike had already known, before her revelation, and had had time to process this crippling news.

“Yeah,” the vampire confirmed a moment later, “She told me.”

He didn’t want to deal with the pang those words caused and he focussed on the vampire’s grim expression.

“How is she coping?” he found himself asking and regretted it as soon as the vampire gave him an angry but bewildered look.

“How do you think?”



He fell silent and took the bottle once more, taking a larger mouthful to drive away the bad taste in his mouth.

“They shouldn’t have done it,” he murmured, glancing at the vampire and then returning his gaze to the floor once more, “The spell.”

“Too right they bloody shouldn’t have,” Spike replied, his voice weary rather than angry now.

They continued their silent drinking for several minutes, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. It didn’t exactly make them great company for each other, Riley mused, but Spike’s abrupt truths always made him think more about what was happening around him. The vampire saw so much that he seemed to miss. He guessed that was the benefit of hundred years of being around people.

“She’s been miserable,” he mumbled, half to himself.

He felt Spike’s eyes on him but then the vampire settled back in his chair, retrieving a new bottle from beside his chair.

“I reckon so, yeah. Been bottling it up for too long as well.”

“She always did.”

Spike looked at him and nodded before tilting his head back and taking a long swallow from the newly-opened bottle. Once more, they fell into a comfortable silence.



A moment later, the door flew open and they both quickly turned to it, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in Buffy’s form. She stopped in surprise and as he got the distinct feeling she hadn’t expected to find him here, he felt that pang of jealousy once more.

“Hi,” she got out weakly, looking slightly pale – and as if she hadn’t slept well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, considering the events of the night before.

They both greeted her and she moved further into the crypt, her eyes darting between the two of them. For the first time in weeks, she was not hiding her agitation or weariness as well as usual and he could see just how close she was to breaking.

“Look like you need a drink,” Spike spoke up and she gave the vampire a tired smile.

“You know that didn’t turn out so well last time. Buffy and alcohol are not very mixy,” she explained, relaxing ever so slightly as she moved into the crypt and sat on the cabinet opposite them.

“Was amusing for those of us observing.”

She scowled at the vampire and Riley felt himself distinctly the outsider in this interaction. Buffy stopped a moment later though and turned to him.

“Your head looks better now.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “It healed up okay.”

“What happened?” Spike asked curiously.

“Got myself into a fight I couldn’t win,” he explained with a wry smile.

Spike raised an eyebrow and gave him a smug smile.

“Anyway, I was about to go patrol,” Buffy spoke up, drawing their attention back to her, “Anyone up for it?”

He was about to reply but suddenly felt himself getting inexplicably sleepy. His blurry gaze flicked to the vampire beside him – and moments later, everything went black.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~



He woke with a start and took in the sleeping forms around him. On his left, a man with bright blonde hair, dressed entirely in black, was slumped in a battered armchair and just opposite them, a young blonde woman was slumped on a cabinet. Even as he watched them, they started to stir and the man in black jolted awake, looking around in a flash and jumping to his feet.

“What the bloody hell?!”

His cry startled the blonde woman and she sat up stiffly, taking in her surroundings uncertainly.

“Where am I?” she asked, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms around her defensively as she looked at them both suspiciously.

“I’m not sure,” he answered gently, hoping to reassure her, “But I’m-“

He paused, unable to remember his name. His eyes went wide in surprise and as he glanced at the other two, he noticed the same sudden panic cross their expressions. He patted down his pockets but found nothing there.

It was only when he suddenly felt cold metal against his throat that he reached for his neck and the chain there. He tugged it off and examined the army issue tags.

“Finn. Riley.”

He looked up and found the other two searching for something to identify themselves but they found nothing and the woman looked forlorn. The man in black gave a shrug and pulled out the only thing he did appear to have found in his clothes – a packet of cigarettes.



They passed a moment of awkward silence as the man in black lit up a cigarette but he found himself becoming irritated.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda rude?!” he asked, addressing the man.

The man quirked an eyebrow at him and blew out a ring of smoke in defiance.

“Don’t go thinking you’re in charge here.”

“I don’t see you doing anything useful.”

“Not all of us fancy ourselves the top dog.”

“Well, looking at the state of you-“

“Would you two shut up?!” the woman cried, silencing them both as she glared at them, her petite figure doing nothing to diminish her daunting expression as she crossed her arms across her chest angrily. He knew better than to argue with a woman as fiery as this and gave out a sigh, sinking back into the chair.

“Obviously, something weird has happened to us,” the woman spoke up, throwing a glare at the blonde man as he snorted.

“We just need to figure out what.”

“And just how do you reckon on doing that?” the blonde man asked with a smirk, “With no memories?”

Although she glared back at the blonde man, he saw her shoulders sag and she sank down on to the cabinet once more.



A long silence passed and as he glanced at the other two, he saw both brows creased, deep in thought. As he risked a second look at the blonde man, their gazes clashed and the blonde man smirked.

“No bright ideas yet, Soldier Boy?”

He ignored the barb and turned to the blonde woman, watching her worriedly. She had her gaze fixed on the floor, eyes closed and a strained look on her face – as if she was desperately trying to remember.

“Maybe we should try to figure out your name,” he spoke up, drawing her attention, “It might be a start.”

She smiled weakly and gave a little shrug.

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe you can make one up, just for now. So we know what to call you.”

She thought for a long moment and then looked at them.

“I like the name Joan. I’m going with that.”

“Nice to meet you, Joan,” he replied with a smile, glad to see her spirits lifted ever so slightly.

They both turned expectantly to the blonde man and he rolled his eyes.

“Call me whatever you bloody want, I don’t care. Doesn’t stop the fact that we can’t remember bugger all.”

Seemingly ignoring this last part, Joan spoke up with a tiny smile.

“How about… Brad?”

He could have sworn the man gave out what sounded like a growl and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t bloody think so.”

“You said you didn’t care,” Joan pointed out with a smirk of her own now, “Brad.”

The blonde man narrowed his eyes at her but she only smiled in reply, her hazel eyes sparkling. It was with a start that he realised just how beautiful she was, especially now she was smiling, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring.



Unknown to him, the staring match between the two blondes continued, until finally the man gave in, drawing his attention back to the present.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Throwing his finished cigarette to the floor, the man stood up, crushing it under his boots.

“I’m going to look around, figure out where we are.”

“Are you crazy?!” Joan asked, getting to her feet once more, “We have no idea what’s out there.”

“Scared?” the man teased.

“No,” she snapped back, “I just think we should stick together.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll look after you,” the blonde man got out with a wink. Joan rolled her eyes but Riley could have sworn he saw the faintest of blushes cross her cheeks.

“You comin’ or what, then?” the man asked and was already moving toward the door when Joan grabbed his arm, drawing him to a halt.

“Look, can’t we just stay here until we figure something out?”

He hesitated for a moment and she continued.

“Please? We have no idea who we are, where we are, what the hell happened to us. I think it’s just safer to stay here, don’t you?”

After a long moment, the man finally softened imperceptibly and nodded.

“Yeah, alright.”

She smiled her thanks and released his arm nervously, turning back to the room.

“Maybe we could watch some TV?”