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Twenty Seven - It's Not A Cry You Can Hear At Night

He walked in and demanded that they talk. She'd told him she wasn't ready to talk, but he'd simply said, "Too bad," and then tried to pick a fight with her, right then and there. She'd been goaded into asking what the heck he expected her to say to him, and that nothing he could say would make this whole thing any better, and then she'd tried to walk away. He'd grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving, confessed that he knew all that, but that he just wanted her to hear him out. It had taken almost everything she had not to flatten him right then, but she hadn't; instead, she'd simply told him to take his hand off of her, and stood there waiting for him to explain. Not that it really mattered.

"Buffy, I think, when this thing started, it was just some stupid, immature game. I wanted to even the score after you let Dracula bite you," he started.

"I did not *let* Dracula…" She seethed, only for him to interrupt her.

"I know," He paused a moment. "On some level I know that. But I was still spun! I don't know, I … I wanted to know what you felt. I wanted to know why Dracula and Angel have so much power over you," His face, pleaded with her to understand."

"You so don't get it." She was only getting more exasperated with him.

"I wanted to get it, Buffy. I wanted to get you." He was getting more earnest. She was getting more incredulous.

"So this is my fault? Hey, gee, Buffy's so mysterious, I think I'll go out and almost die. I think I'll go and let some other w..." She couldn't finish that thought.

"This isn't your fault. It's mine. I feel like hell for what I've put you through. It's just... these girls…"

"Vampires. Killers." She corrected him.

"They made me feel something, Buffy. Something I didn't even know I was missing until…"

"I can't. I can't hear this," She said, turning away from him again.

"You *need* to hear this," He grabbed her arm yet again, forcing her to face him.

"Fine. Fine! Tell me about your whores! Tell me what on earth they were giving you that I can't." Incredulous couldn't even cover what she was feeling right then. After a moment he answered.

"They needed me." Boy, that was not what she'd been expecting to hear.

"They needed your money. It wasn't about you." The retort was somewhat satisfying, but not much.

"No. On some basic level it *was* about me. My blood, my body," he sighed. "When they bit me ... it was beyond passion. They wanted to devour me, all of me."

"Why are you telling me this?" It was really more a plea for him to stop, than a request for an explanation.

"It wasn't real. I know, it was just physical. But the fact that I craved it ... that, that I kept going back ... even if it was fleeting, they made me feel like they had such... hunger for me." Now he was pleading.

"And I don't ... make you feel that way?" Realization was beginning to dawn on her. His silence answered the question for him.

"How on earth can you compare me to that?" Now she was getting angry. Very angry. "How can you tell me you understand what those vampires are feeling? You aren't a passion to them, you are a snack! A willing, idiotic snack!"

"No, I know exactly what they feel when they bite me, because I feel it every time we're together. It's like the whole world falls away. And all there is, is you."

"And you think that I don't feel the same way about you? How dare you tell me what I feel?" She turned to walk away again, but he apparently had a big problem with taking hints. Even obvious ones.

"You keep me at a distance, Buffy." His voice seemed urgent then. "You didn't even call me when your mom went into the hospital." What the heck had he expected from her?

"Oh, I'm sorry. You know, um, I'm sorry that I couldn't take care of you when I thought that my mother was dying." God, he had some nerve!

"It's about me taking care of *you*!" That pleading was back. "It's about letting me in. So you don't have to be on top of everything all the time."

"But I do. That's part of what being a slayer is." He so didn't get it. She couldn't *not* be on top of everything all the time. "And that's what this is really about, isn't it? You can't handle the fact that I'm stronger than you."

"It's hard sometimes, yeah." Now *he* was looking at her like she was the one who didn't understand. "But that's not it."

"Then what? What else do you want from me, Riley? I've given you everything that I have, I've given you my heart, my body, and soul!" She gathered her anger around her like a shield. What more did he want from her?

"You say that, but I don't feel it. I just don't feel it." His flat, abrupt tone told her he was serious. And that really kind of pissed her off. She was trying. She was giving him everything she had. But apparently it wasn't enough for him.

"Well, whose fault is that?" She bit out, then decided to lay it all out for him. "Because I'm telling you, this is it, this is me. This is the package. And if it's so deficient that you need to get your kicks elsewhere ... then we really have a problem," she finished, quiet and calmly. She'd made sure to look him in the eyes as she'd said it, ensuring he understood just how serious she was, and then looked away, giving him a moment to process that.

"They want me back, Buffy ... the military," He paused. "It's deep undercover, no contact with civilians. Transport's leaving tonight."

"Tonight?" Talk about being spun! "When were you gonna tell me about this?"

"I'm telling you now." His calmness was unnerving her.

"Are you going?"

"I don't know. If we can't work this out..."

"Then what? This is goodbye?" Was he really leaving her? Tonight? All he did was shrug in reply. And damn if that didn't piss her off even more! After everything that had happened, he was going to pull this kind of crap on her!

"You are unbelievable. You're giving me an ultimatum?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes you are! You expect me to get over it now or you're gone!" How the hell could he do this to her?

"I don't, Buffy! That's not what I meant."

"Well, I have heard enough. I will not take the blame for this." She needed to get away from here. She couldn't listen to anymore.

"I'm not asking you to!" He grabbed her arm again, and she almost swung her free hand around to punch him in the nose. But she didn't.

"Let go of me!" She sent him a clear look of warning and jerked her arm free.

"Or what? You'll hit me?" Was that sarcasm?

"Go ahead." He held his arms out in clear invitation. "Come on, do it!" He wanted her to hit him. Practically begged her to beat on him. Did she want her to punish him? Is that what he wanted?

"Get out of my way." She wasn't going to hit him. Not that she didn't feel like it, because she definitely did.

"I'm serious, Buffy, hit me. Hit… me..." He got right up in her face, practically daring her to do it.

She wasn't going to take the bait. Wasn't going to give him whatever it was he felt he needed. In fact, what she was going to do was walk away before she really did beat him into the ground. She slowly stepped around him, keeping eye contact before she turned and grabbed her jacket.

"I'm leaving, Buffy." He paused. She froze. "Unless you give me a reason to stay ... I'm leaving tonight."

This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. But if he wanted to leave so bad, then she sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. He'd already made his choice. Now she was making hers.

*****************************

A knock at the door abruptly ended the dream, giving her little precious time to process it. Then again there wasn't a whole lot to process, was there? Riley didn't feel like what she could give him, was enough; and it was tearing him apart. She glanced at the clock, noting it was already late into the morning. She quickly slid on a her plain cotton robe and headed for the door. There weren't a lot of people who knew where she was living, and with the exception of maybe Tara, she wasn't sure she wanted to see any of them right now. She peeked through the peep hole in the door and sighed. Between the dream and what had happened the other night, Riley was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. She sighed again, leaning her forehead against the door.

"Buffy, please let me in. We need to talk."

"I'm not ready to talk to you." The words were just as true now as they were in the dream.

"Please, just hear me out." A tear slid down her face. Sometimes she really hated the slayer dreams. Deciding that she couldn't escape fate, lord knows she'd tried, she opened the door and stood back in silent invitation. He took the invite and walked in, stopped next to the small desk in that occupied one corner of the room. She shut the door and turned to face him, half expecting him to start talking about Dracula.

"Buffy…" He started.

"I'm sorry." She interrupted him quietly. Which served the purpose of shutting him up before he could start telling her what she already knew was coming. Maybe she could speed this along? Skip the whole grabbing and wanting to hit him part?

"I'm sorry that I can't give you what you need from me, Riley." Gob-smacked was a good description of his current look, which made it easy to keep going. "I know you feel that I don't let you in. That you don't feel like I'm giving you everything."

She wasn't going to cry. She knew how this ended, but she was the one who was going to control when and how. "But this is it, Riley. I have nothing else to give. I can give you what I have, but I don't have in me what you want." She paused a moment, time to close the deal. "I think it would be best if you let me go. You deserve more, and…" She offered him a smile filled with sadness and regret that she'd dragged him into her world. "What I can give you isn't going to be enough for you."

Shocked wasn't too strong a word to describe the look on his face. But then, he did something really weird. The shock turned to what looked like acceptance. And then he had his own sad little smile.

"No, Buffy, it isn't enough for *you*."

And now it was her turn to look shocked. Somewhere in this little prerecorded Technicolor session, the needle had scratched across the record and everything was going all wonky.

"What?" Was all she could manage in her temporarily confused stupor. A state that made it handy when he gently approached her and suggested she might want to sit down.

"Look, there's a lot I don't know about you Buffy; but, there is one thing I do know. You deserve more than this, and you definitely need more than this. Pretty sure you want it, too."

He'd paused. She guessed he was waiting for her to object. She could oblige him.

"What I want doesn't change what is," she offered. Which garnered her a small but exasperated sigh as he ducked his head down and look at the floor.

"Spike wasn't lying," he sighed out.

"You've been talking to Spike?" She couldn't keep the tremor from her voice. Oh god, how much had he told him? Why had he told him anything? She looked up to see Riley looking at her with a very pained expression. Oh god, he knew. He knew everything! Suddenly she needed to be anywhere but here.

She tried to scramble up and looked around wildly for her purse. She needed out of here now. But before she could spot the bag, Riley was suddenly there and had ahold of her shoulders trying to stop her from leaving. She violently jerked back automatically, trying to get away, but he held her firmly. Her training kicked in swift and violent, throwing her arms up inside his, loosening the hold enough that she could swing them out and slam her cupped palms over both of his ears as hard as she could, temporarily stunning him, and giving her enough time to make a break for the door. Just as she was yanking the door open, a dead weight hit her and it, slamming it shut again and pinning her to the door. Instinct took over and she began clawing and kicking at anything she could, screaming senseless words and pleas like a wild animal caught in a trap. And then just as quickly as it had hit her, the weight was gone; allowing her to wildly scramble away.

"Oh my god," she vaguely heard a faint voice say from behind her. But she kept scrambling. There, a door. If she could get to it. Her brain barely processed her name being called over and over, a little more urgently each time. And then he was there in front of her, on the floor between her and the door she'd been heading for, her name still rolling out of him over and over. Her brain desperately searched for an escape. She looked for anything she could use as a weapon. Seeing nothing, she scrambled backwards toward the corner, not knowing anywhere else to go, she just needed to get away. For whatever reason, he didn't follow her. He was sitting on his haunches a few feet away from her. He was blocking any escape, but at least not moving towards her. All she could do was sit there, trying to practically climb inside the wall, while he sat there staring at her, still calling her name.

*************************

"Oh my god." A dark realization came over him as he watched her devolve into a wild and feral state. She'd stunned the hell out of him with the smack down, but he'd recovered just enough to know that the wild state she was in could get her hurt if she ran out the door, so he'd stopped her. He hadn't expected this…this wounded wild animal that was clawing towards the bathroom. He tried calling her name, hoping that would break through whatever fog her consciousness was currently in, and pull her back to reality and him, but it didn't seem to be working. All he could think of was to put himself between her and that bathroom door. Dropping himself to her level, he did just that, still trying to pull her back from wherever she was. She'd looked around wildly, still scrambling and had ended up backed into the corner, clawing at the wall while keeping him in her sight. He backed off and sat on his heels, hoping it would calm her down a little.

It worked to some extent. After a couple of minutes, she quit trying to claw into the wood paneling and settled for watching him from the corner of her eyes as her body shook with violent tremors. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him and contemplated what to do now. Some part of him had thought Spike had been exaggerating when he'd said Buffy had been through nine kinds of hell. Sure she'd had some sort of breakdown the other night, but before that she'd been so strong and independent. She'd seemed so self-reliant and self-aware, so… hungry for life. That just didn't fit with what Spike had said.

Yeah, she'd been distant and then there was the whole breakdown the other night, but that didn't fit with what he was seeing now either. Something told him that was related to some whole other issue. There weren't a lot of things that could turn a human being into something this wild and wounded. And this level of reaction usually meant recent, like days or weeks; but she'd been here and in his bed for a couple of months, practically drowning him in her need.

Spike hadn't been lying; she was drowning. But how deep was the water she was drowning in? This kind of trauma was deep and dark, and at least a little old. She'd had enough time to do some serious self-defense training, the kind that took time to get this good at. He was sure it would be days or maybe weeks before his hearing would return to normal, much less his broken nose.
It was old enough that she'd reclaimed her sexuality; hell, developed a serious hunger for it. Not one for a lot of words, she practically screamed a need to be touched and to be physical, like it was the only way she had to communicate, her only way to…

And suddenly something else clicked into place, and he groaned. Jesus, how much *had* this girl gone through? Was it all the same person? Spike said it had gone on for twelve years. A relative? Parent? With that kind of time frame, at least some of it certainly was. She'd been raised in a violent physical world. One that she still lived in whether she knew it or not. She'd never developed any other way to interact or understand her world. And now what Spike said about her breakdown being a good thing was making a little more sense. No wonder she was one step forward and two steps back.

So what all was he looking at? Years of physical abuse, which never came without mental abuse; rape, pretty violent if her current state was any indication; death, Spike had mentioned that the guy she was in love with had died about a year ago. If he was Spikes brother, he was probably somewhere close in age. Dying young usually meant either very violent or very sick, always tragic. Parental violence usually meant single parent, either death or divorce, which meant more loss. That would explain the closing off. Was there more? Wasn't that enough? Hell, one of them would be enough to keep a person in therapy for ages.

But until today, he'd had no clue that "whatever this was" involved this level of hell. She's seemed as normal as anyone else. So, how did she get to this level of ok, and still have not learned to cope with all of these things? Because the woman in front of him was absolutely not coping. Had no one gotten her any help? As intent as Spike was on "saving" her, he couldn't imagine he'd never tried to get her help. But then, hadn't he said she didn't want any? That she didn't think she needed or deserved any?

And that was when the epiphany hit him, as everything snapped into place. It suddenly all made a lot of very scary sense. This creature in front of him was the real Buffy. This was what she'd been hiding from him, from everyone probably. This is what's left when the mask falls away. She'd never faced what had happened to her. As more trauma occurred, she'd just added it to the pile. Instead of learning to cope with everything, she'd simply pushed it to the side and kept going, dragging it all along with her without even realizing it.

The problem with the monsters in the closet is that if you don't slay them, they keep coming back. And the kind of monsters she was fighting? If she didn't kill them, then they were going to kill her.

So now what? He looked back over at her. She was still hugged up against the wall, but her posture was a little more relaxed. Had she fallen asleep? He hoped so. If what he suspected was true, she probably hadn't slept well in years. Should he move her? If he woke her, she might or might not be lucid. If she woke up in the corner, the confusion might send her right back into her feral state. He approached her slowly, making his body ache with the coiled tension with which he was holding his muscles. The closer he got, the more certain he was she'd fallen asleep. More gently than he thought himself capable, he picked her up and moved her to the bed. He pulled a blanket up over her, and then grabbed a chair and started his vigil.
How she was in the morning would determine what happened next. If he couldn't get her to willingly face her demons, then he was going to have to take her somewhere that could. She'd probably hate him forever if he did; but, she couldn't go on like this. It was killing her.

And he had a sneaking suspicion that it was killing Spike, too. That gravitational field was looking more like a massive black hole. Could they escape it, or had their failure to face everything sealed their fate? Now who was being fatalistic? He was beginning to understand Spike, now. He'd jumped into the event horizon willingly, knowing that neither of them might every make it out alive, but hoping that against all odds he could pull them both out.

*******************************

She awoke slowly, coming to consciousness with her head feeling a bit like it was full of cotton. A little too much pressure, and not exactly certain what had happened. She was in her bed, that much was clear. What she didn't remember, was going to bed. She started probing her memory to see what she did remember. That was when flashes of images and feelings came flying back at her, and she started to scramble back. She would have fallen flat in the floor if someone hadn't caught her. She froze. They'd caught her again.

"Buffy?" His voice cut through the fog.

"Riley?" She looked up at him, unsure if she was hearing things. Please let it be him.

"It's me. I've got you. You know where you are, Buffy?" He asked.

She looked around and sent up a prayer of thanks that she was in her dumpy little rat hole room, and it was Riley holding her, and not… She closed her eyes and banished that thought.

"Must have been some dream." She gave him a watery smile.

He lifted her back onto the bed, and then handed her a glass of water.

"How long have you been here?" She asked, after drinking most of the water.

"What?" He leaned in a little closer and turned one side of his head slightly towards her, like he was having trouble hearing her. The implication of that slammed into her full force and she started to panic. What had happened here?

"Buffy, breathe!" He held his hands up in clear surrender. The action drew her attention to him, and helped to focus her just a little.

"Come on, just breathe in and out, Buffy. You're safe, no one is going to hurt you."

She followed his lead as he slowly breathed in his nose and blew out of his mouth. Bringing her heart rate and panic level down about six levels. Once she'd finally calmed enough to settle back on the bed, he sat back in his chair and let her finish calming herself down. Which unfortunately gave her lots of time to think while he stared at her. She was still having a hard time sorting out exactly what had happened. As she continued to breathe and definitely not focus on how intently he was staring at her, she tried to piece out the events. Dream. Talk. Talk about… her breath caught… he knew. And she'd tried to get away, but he'd grabbed her and she'd… her breathing was ratcheting back up again…

"Buffy, slow your breathing down." He was breathing with her again.

Refocusing. Ok. Ears. Escape. Door. He'd slammed the door shut and then it all got fuzzy after that, because suddenly she was right back….

"NO!" She screamed out angrily, balling the blanket under her into her tight fists. Not going back there. Not reliving any of that again. At least she wasn't in panic mode anymore. The anger made it better. Helped her focus. She deliberately focused her breathing and senses and told herself to calm the heck down.

"Buffy?" His soft voice broke through the silence of the room.

She opened her eyes to look at him. He knew. She looked up at the ceiling, cursing the cosmic fates that had so cursed her life. She sank back into the bed, and for several seconds tried to figure out how to proceed.

"How much did he tell you?" She asked, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice.

"He didn't," came the simple reply, causing her to snap her attention to him. "Only thing he ever said was that your boyfriend died about a year ago."

She drew in a deep breath. That was all he knew? No, the look on his face earlier clearly indicated her knew way more than that.

"Please don't lie. I can tell that you know…" he breath hitched again. "He obviously told you more."

"No, he didn't." He assured her. "Kept saying it wasn't his story to tell."

That gave her pause. If Spike hadn't told him, then how did he know? She groaned as she internally smacked herself upside the head. She'd practically told him herself. If her addled brain was any indicator, she must have given him one heck of a show.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He might as well have asked for the moon and stars. She shook her head.

"Have you told anyone what happened?" She nodded. "Did you tell the police?" Another nod. "Anyone else?" She thought about it. Had she told anyone else? "No."

"What about the rest?" She gave him a sideways look. He'd guessed about the attack because she'd gone mental on him. But if Spike didn't tell him anything, then what did he mean by 'the rest'?

"Was it your mother or father?" He asked. His resolute expression clearly communicating he wasn't budging until she answered. What she couldn't figure out, was why she was answering him.

"It was my dad."

"All of it?" Again, with the resolve face. She just shook her head in response.

"Buffy, I can go on playing twenty questions, and something tells me it's the only way I'll get any answers, but this would go a lot quicker if you would just tell me."

She shook her head again. He sighed.

"Right. Father, but not all. Is he the one who…?" He left the question hanging, but she couldn't help flinch at the word he didn't even say. She shook her head.

"Then I'm guessing you had lots of 'accidents' as a kid. The kind that ended up with lots of visits to the hospital?" She nodded.

"But he never…?" She shook her head vehemently.

"Did he let someone else? Without your permission?"

How did she answer that one? Images and feelings of old Mr. Buchannan flashed back though her mind before she quickly shut them down. She nodded.

"More than one?" She shook her head. "More than once?" She shook her head again. "Did he help?" She shook her head vehemently again.

"Buffy, God, how do I say this? What I saw here, was this something separate from that?" She nodded.

"Jesus, Buffy," He whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"What I saw, this was violent. Caged animal, scared for your life, kind of violence. Did they try to kill you?"

Again, how did she answer that. They had beat her and pounded her head into floor until she'd blacked out, twice, and then left her to die in a pile of trash in an alley. She nodded.

"Before your boyfriend died?" She shook her head. Then decided to correct him.

"Fiance. We were engaged." Another sigh.

"Was he sick?" She shook her head. "Accident?" She nodded, and then just kept nodding. Finally she fell over on the bed as she couldn't hold back the tears any more.

"Is there more?" He still pressed.

She shook her head. She couldn't go any further. No more. He'd already guessed enough. The rest didn't matter.

"Buffy, you said you haven't told anyone else about what I saw here. Does that include Spike?"

She froze for a moment, going slightly stiff. And apparently Riley saw that and didn't like it.

"Did he do this to you?" His voice practically dripped with venom. She remained frozen. She hadn't told Spike. He'd seen. "I'll kill him!" Riley shouted.

"NO!" Buffy bolted upright. "He didn't do it, Riley! He didn't…. he didn't have anything to do with what happened."

Riley visibly took a moment to calm down as he sank back down in the chair.

"Have you told him what happened?" She shook her head again.

"He's the one who found me. After. He got me to the hospital."

"How did he know where you were?" Riley asked with confusion.

"Didn't. He was buying cigarettes. As he was leaving, he happened to see them when they were dumping me in the alley." She wrapped her arms around herself.

Riley looked up at the ceiling as he slowly breathed in and out. She wondered if he was praying or cursing the same powers she cursed when she did that.

"And the black hole gets bigger and bigger," he mumbled. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Buffy, have you ever talked to anyone about all this?" She shook her head. "Not even Spike." Again, she shook her head.

"He tried. He always tries. But…" she trailed off.

"You can't figure out how to tell him?" She nodded.

"Because you never learned." He was looking at her earnestly. "All you've ever known is the physical world, and how it interacted with your body. It became the only way you knew how to talk because it was the only way that anyone ever talked to you."

"Did Spike tell you that?"

"No," he looked confused. "But, I'm betting he told *you* that. Didn't he?" She nodded.
"That's what the other night was about, wasn't it? When you broke down? You realized what he said was right, didn't you?" Riley probed. She nodded.

"Buffy, I want to ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me. Can you do that?" He gave her a piercing look. She nodded.

"Have you ever seen a counselor to learn how to deal with all of this?" She kind of nodded a moment, but then changed and shook her head.

"I'm taking that as a no?" She nodded.

"Jesus, Buffy, no wonder you went native earlier. Did you ever face *any* of the stuff you went through?"

"Of course I faced it! I did what I had to and moved on!" She was getting a little of her fire back.

"No, you didn't. You did what you had to do, yes; but you haven't moved on Buffy. You just realized two nights ago that your body is the only way you know how to connect. You never talked to anyone about all of this, because then you'd have to say it out loud. Give it meaning. Face how it made you feel. Accept what happened and actually deal with it. What happened here today? This isn't what happens when someone has learned how to deal with their past, Buffy. This is what happens when someone buries it inside and never faces it. It hides inside you, and it burns and tears you apart until you can't hold it in anymore and then it comes clawing its way to the surface."

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. Buffy, think about it. Did you ever seriously face any of it, or did you just try to forget it? Did you really face it? Or did you turn your back on it?"

She let her silence answer the questions for her.

"You know you can't go on like this, right? It will kill you in the end, and it will poison everything and everyone around you."

"Why do you think I've tried to leave them all behind? Everyone around me dies!" She broke down again.

"Buffy?" He asked. Oh hell, she hadn't meant to say that. She couldn't look at him.

"Buffy, who is 'everyone'?" She shook her head. She couldn't do this anymore.

"Please go."

"Not until you talk to me."

"Didn't you just say that I don't know how?" If felt a little good to throw it back at him.

"Who is 'everyone', Buffy?"

"I can't!" She was pleading with him now.

"Who?" He pressed.

"All of them!" She screamed out. "Mom, Jenny, Angel, Gabriel. All gone, because of me!"

Well, that did it. He looked pretty thrown. She'd finally gotten him to shut up.

"How?" Or, maybe not.

"Was it all the same accident?"

"What do you want from me?" She begged.

"I want you to face it, Buffy! I want you to meet it all head on. Stop running from your demons, Buffy. Face the monsters and kill them all!" It seemed like he was almost begging her, by the time he finished.

"Who are they, Buffy? Tell me." She shook her head again.

"Who is Jenny?" She couldn't stop the tears. "You said your mom and then Jenny. Who's Jenny?"

"A…Angel's mother." She took a gulping breath. "We were living with them when…" She couldn't finish.

"When the accident happened?" He guessed. She nodded.

"Gabriel?" He pressed.

She met his eyes. Her own eyes wild, pleading, begging, as she shook her head so hard that she thought her brain might rattle.

"Angel's father?" He asked. She shook her head less vehemently.

"I can't. Riley, I can't. Please!"

"Brother? Spike and Angel's brother?" She kept shaking her head. "Your brother?" She was trying to look away from him, and kept shaking her head. "Your dad?" Couldn't he understand. She can't do this.

"Who is Gabriel, Buffy?" He had moved around to the side of the bed where she was trying to escape, blocking her way. "Who is Gabriel, Buffy?"

She continued shaking her head, and now her whole body was shaking, as she tried to avoid him.

"Who… Is… Gabriel?" He was in her face now, close to shouting.

"HE'S MY SON!" She screamed, as she shoved him away with every bit of strength she could muster, send him flying back to land hard on his ass.

"He's my son," she crumbled into a heap on the floor next to the bed.

"You have a son?" Riley's small voice betrayed his shock.

"In point of fact, she has two," Spike said from the doorway. "Think it's time we all had a chat."





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