Entangled by Mariner

Spoilers: Season 4 BtVS through "Who Are You." This story is set between "Who Are You" and "Where the Wild Things Are."

Disclaimer: All characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Mutant Enemy and Fox Television. I'm using them without permission, for my own evil but strictly non-profit purposes.

VI

Felicia Howard died early the next morning. Forrest came down to the compound before breakfast to sign Wu's autopsy authorization, and tried to feel something more than sick relief that he was signing it for a stranger and not for Riley. A few hours later, as he was filling out the next day's patrol schedule, Wu came to see him again, and she actually looked pleased.

"I think we finally have results," she announced.

Forrest pushed his chair back from the desk, trying and failing to fight down the surge of hope at the words. "Define 'results.' "

"Dr. Ginzberg and I managed to complete the autopsy this time." Wu handed him a folder, which he barely glanced at. "We installed halogen spotlights in the lab to make sure the seedling stayed contained, and it worked. We were able to remove it and dissect it. We think it's some species of arthropod, possibly even a trilobite that somehow avoided extinction. Dr. Ginzberg has been looking through fossil records, searching for similarities, but nothing's come up so far."

"I don't give a shit what it is." Forrest tossed the folder onto the desk. "Is there a cure for it?"

"Not…" Wu hesitated for a few seconds. "Not exactly."

Forrest's fragile new optimism crashed and burned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, surgery is not an option." Wu tapped the report folder as if she actually expected Forrest to pick it up and look through it for explanations. "The blood work isn't quite done yet, but based on what we have so far, I believe that any attempt to put Finn under an anaesthetic, even a local one, would be fatal. The Vinranka toxin is specifically designed to keep the host awake and conscious. Dr. Ginzberg thinks the seedlings feed on the natural opoids produced by the human body to fight pain. That means we can't use morphine or any other opiate painkillers - they would actually speed the seedling's growth."

"That's your idea of results?" Forrest didn't even bother to try to keep his voice down. "A list of stuff you can't do? What exactly is the point of all this, then?"

Wu matched his glare, obviously unimpressed. "I think we have an antitoxin."

"You think?"

"It's not exactly something we can test, is it?" Wu snapped irritably. "The lab tests were promising. How it'll work on an actual patient, I can't say. But at this point, we might as well try it. It can't possibly make him worse."

"Fuck." Forrest leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Wu's cool, impersonal calm made him want to throw things and kick the furniture. He tried to think of it as a reassuring trait, a sign of professionalism and competence on her part, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was a lot more interested in Riley Finn the research opportunity than in Riley Finn the dying patient. "All right. Do whatever you need."

"Oh, I've already started the treatment." Wu sounded mildly surprised that Forrest might've thought otherwise. "I'm just giving you an update."

"Gee, thanks." Forrest rubbed one hand across his face. "Is he awake? Can I see him now?"

Wu shrugged. "Be my guest."

Whatever Wu had done to Riley, it hadn't had a visible effect yet. He looked no different than he had before: pale and still, like a bad wax effigy of himself. The heart monitor's beep echoed through the room, unnaturally loud, and the air smelled of sweat and antiseptic solution. Riley stirred a little when Forrest entered, but didn't speak or lift his head. Forrest wondered if he was disappointed to see him instead of Buffy, but refused to dwell on the thought. He put on his best grin, an expression that was beginning to feel rather brittle around the edges.

"Hey, Ry, how's it going? No, don't try to tell me, I can figure it out myself. Wu been sticking more needles into you?" He paused, waiting for Riley's nod. "Yeah, that's what I thought. It's actually supposed to do you some good this time, though, so keep your fingers crossed." He sat in the folding chair next to the bed, and nudged the boom box with his toe. "You want some music on, man? That beeping is like Chinese water torture."

Riley made a noise that sounded vaguely affirmative, so Forrest popped a Counting Crows CD into the box, adjusting the volume so that he could still talk over it without shouting.

"Man, I can't wait to have you back on your feet, just so I don't have to run this place anymore. Not that I'm not doing a brilliant job, mind you, but I swear, I didn't know there was so much paperwork in the whole world."

He spent about twenty minutes giving Riley the run-down on daily Initiative business, followed by some general campus gossip. He had no idea if Riley was listening, if he was even vaguely interested in any of it or if he was wishing for Forrest to shut up and go away. But if he had been in Riley's place, he'd have wanted people to talk to him, and he figured Riley might feel the same. So he sat and talked until a commotion outside the door attracted his attention.

"Hold on a sec," he told Riley, got up, and went to investigate the disturbance.

Outside, Davidson and Clarke were having an argument with Buffy Summers, who stood between them in a defensive stance, clutching a small box against her chest as if she was expecting them to try and take it away from her. As soon as Forrest flung the door open, they all started talking to him at once.

"Sir, she refuses to-"

"Forrest! Will you please tell them-"

"Sir, we were just trying to-"

"All of you, shut up!" Forrest stepped out into the hallway, shut the door behind him, and leaned his back against it. To his considerable surprise, they all did shut up, even Buffy, and fixed him with anxious looks. "All right, now tell me what's going on, one at a time." He pointed at Buffy. "You first."

She put one hand on her hip and held out the box to him with the other. "Call off the goon squad, Forrest. All I did was bring this for Riley, and they're acting like I'm trying to smuggle in a bomb."

"Sir," Davidson broke in, "Dr. Wu specifically said no contaminants of any kind-"

"It's not a contaminant!" Buffy… well… whined. Forrest suspected that he could shorten his life span by a few decades by telling the Slayer she whined, but there was really no other word for it. "It's just a candle, okay? One goddamn candle! What do you think it's going to do?" She held the box up higher, practically shoving it in Forrest's face.

The box had no lid and appeared to be filled with tissue paper. Forrest lifted a couple of layers out of the way, and saw that beneath them there was, indeed, a candle, pale green in color, with a faint spicy scent. It was about as thick as his wrist and covered from base to wick with dense, small writing in an alphabet he didn't recognize, painted on with some thick black substance. Forrest peered at it suspiciously.

"What's it for?"

"Willow and Tara made it," Buffy said. "It has a sleep spell on it. I figured, since regular drugs are out…" She trailed off, looking faintly embarrassed. "Look, I know you guys don't believe in this stuff, but I'm telling you it works. You said you can't let Willow come here, so fine, don't. But don't tell me a candle is going to cause a security breach for you, because I'm not buying that."

"A sleep spell." Forrest plucked the candle out of the box, ignoring Buffy's yelped admonition to be careful and not smudge the writing, and turned it over in his hand a couple of times. "You're right. I don't believe in this stuff."

"Does it matter?" Buffy rolled her eyes. "We put it by his bed, we light it, worst thing that happens is I look like an idiot. Where's the bad?"

Put that way, it was kind of hard to argue. Besides, it would get some of that medicine smell out of the air. Forrest shrugged and opened the door again. "All right, go ahead."

Riley actually looked up and smiled a little when Buffy came in. She bent over and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Hey there. Got a care package for you from Will and Tara." She rooted around inside the box some more, dropping bits of tissue on the floor, and produced a frosted pink candleholder with little red hearts around the edge, absolutely the girliest thing ever to appear inside the Initiative compound. Forrest bit the inside of his cheeks and made a mental note to give Riley a hard time about it when he was better.

Buffy took the candle from Forrest, fit it into the holder, and put it on the bedside table.

"Got a light?"

"What, you didn't bring a little pink Bic to go with it?" Forrest patted down his pockets, finally handing her a matchbook from the Bronze. She made a face at him before leaning over to light the wick, then stepped back with an anxious look.

"Okay, you're supposed to think positive thoughts now. Tara says good vibes are important."

"Vibes. Right." Forrest looked up at the ceiling and thought about how nice it would be if Buffy Summers went off to fight demons in… oh… Tasmania. That was a positive thought, wasn't it? No violence involved, no ill wishing. Tasmania was supposed to be a nice place, right? Except for the devils, but a Slayer ought to be able to handle those… She could go and be happy there, he didn't mind her being happy as long as it was far away. She'd go, and he'd stay, and Riley would get over it, and then everybody would be happy…

"Forrest!"

"Sir!"

Someone was smacking his face, not hard, but enough to be annoying. Forrest blinked, shook his head, and found himself looking up at Buffy Summers' worried face. That made no sense. He blinked again, trying to concentrate. Either Buffy had grown a couple of feet in the last five seconds, or…

He was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his back against the wall. Buffy was bending over him, with Davidson and Clarke fidgeting behind her. How the fuck did that come about? He'd been standing next to Riley, thinking positive thoughts…

"What happened?"

"You fell asleep on your feet." Buffy held out a hand to help him up. "Gotta tell Willow - next time, put a time delay on the spell, so that people who *don't* want an instant nap can get out of the room."

"Whoa!" Forrest climbed to his feet, pointedly ignoring Buffy's hand. "You telling me that damn candle knocked me out?"

Buffy nodded. "And let me just state for the record that I think I've moved cars that weighed less than you."

The mental image of his own sleeping self being carried out of the room by Buffy was just too sickening to contemplate. Was it his imagination, or was Clarke suppressing a smirk? Forrest spared him a quick warning glare before returning his attention to Buffy.

"Why weren't you affected?"

"I was. I shook it off."

She shook it off. Just like that. Naturally. Forrest might've had a lot more to say on the subject, but he had a more pressing concern.

"How's Riley?"

Buffy gestured toward the door, smiling. "Sleeping like a baby."

Forrest peered through the glass panel, cupping his hands on either side of his face to keep out the glare. It still wasn't the clearest view, but he could see that Riley's eyes were closed, his breathing even, his face relaxed into a peaceful expression. The music on the boom box was faintly audible when Forrest put his forehead against the glass, but Riley seemed undisturbed by the noise. It was the best thing Forrest had seen in days. For the first time ever, he found himself feeling sincerely, unambiguously grateful to Buffy Summers. Not that he was about to say it or anything.

All the monitors at the back of the room went crazy at once, an explosion of high-pitched electronic screams and spiking displays. Riley's body twitched and thrashed, sending the covers to the floor, while his hands clawed at the sheets. Forrest reacted instantly, without thinking. He was through the door and three paces into the room before he realized his mistake.

The sleepiness enfolded him like a warm, soft comforter. His eyelids drooped, and his mouth opened in a yawn that threatened to dislocate his jaw. He took another step and felt his legs buckling.

No. Forrest blinked a few times, shook his head, and pinched his left arm, hard. That kept him awake through two more staggering steps, which put him right in front of the table where Buffy had left the candle. This close, the herbal smell was unbearably thick, and sleep threatened to overwhelm him again. He blinked again, focused on the flickering glow of the flame in front of him, and blew it out.

It took a few seconds for his head to clear. When it did, Forrest turned toward Riley and saw that Buffy was holding him down on the bed. She'd put a fold of her sleeve between his teeth to keep him from biting his tongue, and flung her other arm across his torso, pinning him down.

"Get Dr. Wu!" she shouted. "Get somebody!"

Wu was probably on her way already. She would've started running as soon as the monitors went off, but Forrest reached over anyway and punched the alarm button above the bed. He kept right on punching it, over and over, until Wu burst into the room at a sprint, followed by a nurse wheeling a tray.

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Forrest stepped aside to let her approach the bed. "One minute he was sleeping quietly, the next he-"

"Sleeping?" Wu spun around and glared at him accusingly. "What did you do? What's this?" She snatched the candle off the table. "Who brought this?"

Forrest and Buffy both started to answer, but Wu was already turning away. "Never mind. Tell me later." She put the candle back down and took a hypodermic needle from the nurse's tray. "Just hold him still."

It took Buffy and Forrest's combined efforts to hold Riley down long enough for Wu to administer the shot. Even then, he struggled for a few more seconds before finally going still. Forrest watched him cautiously for a while longer, then stepped aside to give Wu some room.

"What did you give him?" he asked.

"Another dose of the antitoxin. I guess now we know it's working." Wu scribbled something on Riley's chart, then set about reinserting the IV needles he'd ripped out during the seizure. Forrest left her to it, grabbed Buffy by the arm, and hauled her out of the room. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, he swung her back against the wall.

"Get the fuck out of here," he growled. "Now."

"What?" She stared at him with startled eyes for a moment, then twisted her arm from his grip. "Wait, you can't just-"

"Get. The fuck. Out." It was a struggle to keep his voice steady. Forrest could still feel his heart pounding, the sweat trickling down his neck. The fear - no, the pure cold terror he'd felt when Riley's seizure started was quickly transforming into anger. Anger at this goddamn blond bitch with her voodoo candles and her disregard for rules, or common sense, or anyone's feelings but her own, going through life expecting everyone around her to just fall in line. She even got him going along with it for a while, and Riley almost died.

"I'm done with cutting you slack," he told her. "You ever come near this compound again, the guards will have orders to shoot." He took hold of her shoulders and pushed in the direction of the elevator bank.

Or tried to push her, rather. Buffy stood fast, and Forrest found that he couldn't budge her, not even when he put all his strength and weight into the shove. Just another unpleasant reminder that this was not a human being they were dealing with. She must've been too startled to react back in the room, or he never would've been able to drag her out.

Forrest started to bark out an order, but Clarke and Davidson were already there, stepping sideways to put Forrest out of their line of fire, and leveling their taser rifles at Buffy. With a commendable show of sense, they both stood back far enough to ensure that they'd be able to get a shot off if she tried to jump either one of them.

"You heard the man," Clarke said quietly. "Get out."

Buffy glared at each of them in turn. Forrest could see her tensing, as if gathering herself for an attack. His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to make a move. Come on. Do it. Give me an excuse. Please.

She held still, though he could see it took an effort. "Look, Forrest, we don't have to do this. Whatever went wrong with that spell, Giles and Willow and Tara can figure it out and fix it. But it was working, he was asleep-"

"Shut up!" Forrest fought down a childish impulse to clap his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear another word out of you. Start walking."

Buffy set her jaw, folded her arms across her chest, and stayed where she was. Forrest shrugged and looked toward Clarke, who still had his rifle up.

"If she doesn't move in three seconds, shoot her."

Clarke didn't even blink. "Yes, Sir."

Buffy started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. She gave Forrest a cold, measuring glare, spun around on her heels, and marched off down the corridor. Forrest, Davidson and Clarke followed a few paces behind, trailing her all the way to the front door of Lowell House.

VII

Dr. Wu was furious, as livid as Forrest had ever seen her. She paced in front of Forrest's desk, bristling like a pissed-off cat, occasionally pausing to shake a lump of mottled green wax in front of his face. The wax was all that remained of Buffy's candle now that Wu was done with her lab tests.

"I can't believe you let her bring that thing into Finn's room!" she snarled. "How many times do I have to say 'no contaminants' before you get it through your thick skull?"

"It was only a candle," Forrest protested weakly, well aware that he was parroting the Slayer's words. Wu gaped at him as if she couldn't quite believe that a grown man could say something so stupid.

"Yes! It's a candle." She smacked one hand down on the desk, sending a cascade of half-completed paperwork spilling to the floor. "A scented candle. A chunk of wax permeated with chemicals, which get released into the air when the wick is lit. And one of those chemicals triggered a response from the Vinranka. For a few minutes there, it almost doubled its toxin production. If we didn't have the antitoxin, Agent Finn would probably be dead now."

There was no good answer to give to that, so Forrest didn't bother trying. Instead he asked, "Do you know how that candle worked? How it made Riley sleep? If we could still use that somehow-"

"No," Wu said irritably. "That is, no, I don't know how it worked. The chemical analysis showed nothing unusual, just an ordinary store-bought candle, painted with ordinary water-based ink. Nothing that would cause the instant sleepiness you described." She shook her head, looking puzzled and slightly embarrassed. "It's the damnedest thing… we must be overlooking something in the tests, but I have no idea what it might be."

"Don't spend too much time on it," Forrest told her. "Concentrate on Riley."

"I am." Wu scowled threateningly at him. "Just try not to poison him again before I can cure him." And she stormed out of the office, leaving Forrest to grumble to himself as he cleaned up the spilled papers from the floor.

---

Willow and Tara were crushed. It took Buffy nearly ten minutes to convince them that she wasn't mad at them, and even then they kept trying to apologize.

"I don't understand it," Willow declared for what had to be the hundredth time. "It's a totally harmless spell. I've used it on myself even, when I was all twitchy and insomniac during midterms. I've never heard of anyone having seizures."

"M-maybe we did s-something wrong," Tara suggested in a small voice. She was sitting on Willow's bed with her hands clasped between her knees and her shoulders hunched, looking as miserable as anyone Buffy had ever seen. Willow patted her knee gently.

"I'm sure we didn't. Not after going over it three times. And Buffy says Forrest fell asleep too, at first, and he didn't have a seizure." Willow's face scrunched up into the familiar "don't bother me, I'm thinking" grimace. "It has to be the Vinranka. Maybe it felt the energy from the spell… or just sensed that Riley was asleep… and reacted." She turned toward Tara, eyes wide with concern. "We have to tell Giles. He'll need to adjust the cure spell."

Tara nodded. "He can add a m-masking element. We should've thought of that when we made the candle." She looked up at Buffy with a stricken expression. "I'm so s-sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. You were trying to help." Buffy was getting a little tired of saying that, especially when she didn't entirely mean it, but anything was better than another round of apologies.

"The important thing is that Giles gets it right," Willow said firmly. "His spell is the one that will really count."

Buffy didn't bother pointing out that unless Forrest changed his mind, Giles' spell wasn't going to count for anything either.

---

She actually considered, briefly, storming the Initiative compound, as she had once planned back when Riley was wounded by Adam. A few lingering remnants of common sense, aided by Giles' patient arguments, put a stop to that plan.

"Say you do succeed, what then?" Giles asked. "Are you going to barricade yourself inside his room and prepare for a siege? Sling him over your shoulder and carry him out? Believe me, Buffy, if I thought it would accomplish something, I'd let you attack that compound just for the stress relief. But you're likely to do Riley more harm than good."

I>What else is new? Buffy resisted the impulse to punch the wall. She'd already made a crack in Giles' coffee table when she'd kicked it in frustration a couple of minutes earlier. "What am I supposed to do, Giles? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs while I wait to see if he dies tomorrow or the day after? I can't deal with this. I'll go postal."

Giles put down the book he'd been poring over, adjusted his glasses, and ran one hand through his already thoroughly mussed hair. "Buffy… I know this sounds trite and facetious now, but don't lose hope. I'm almost done with the work on this spell. Once it's finished, we'll do what's necessary to make sure it gets cast. Until then, if you must beat something up, go ahead and do so, as long as it's not the Initiative."

So Buffy went out patrolling. The Hellmouth was kind to her for a change, providing a nest of four vampires in one of the cemetery crypts and a couple of Fyarl demons in the parking lot behind the movie theater. No sign of Adam, which was frustrating, but at least there was violence. It kept her relatively sane until morning, when she made the mistake of going to class. The effort of keeping still for an hour while her Art History professor droned on about the Pre-Raphaelites proved to be the mental equivalent of Chinese water torture. Buffy endured it for twenty minutes before collecting her books and leaving the classroom at a run, ignoring the professor's indignant protest behind her.

Punishing a punching bag at the gym for an hour calmed her down somewhat, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was going to be enough, until she knew what was happening with Riley. So Buffy made Willow sit down with the laptop, and hovered over her shoulder until she hacked into the Registrar's Office computer and looked up Graham Miller's class schedule.

Graham didn't look at all happy to find Buffy waiting in the hallway at the end of his Cognitive Psych lecture.

"Buffy." For a moment he looked as if he might bolt, but Buffy put one hand on his arm, and he stayed put. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"I won't tell if you won't." Buffy drew him into the drinking-fountain alcove, where they could talk without being jostled by the converging streams of students leaving their classrooms. "Come on, Graham, I'm not looking for state secrets here. I just want to know how Riley's doing."

"He's… okay… stable." Graham was clearly trying to sound reassuring, but the catch in his voice totally spoiled the effect. "Dr. Wu's antitoxin is doing some good, apparently. She says that as long as he keeps getting regular doses, the seedling won't be able to develop to the point where it kills him."

"That's not a cure."

"No. But it buys time until we find one."

"We might have one soon." Buffy looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening, and lowered her voice. "Giles is working on a spell. He's almost finished. But we'll need to get close to Riley to cast it."

"It's not up to me, Buffy, you know that."

"Forrest is your friend. Talk to him."

Graham shook his head. "I'm not sure Forrest is anybody's friend right now."

"I bet he's still Riley's friend. I'm hoping you are, too. Talk to him."

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Graham blinked and looked away.

"Tell me when you have your spell ready," he muttered. "I'll talk to him then."

---

Three days passed. Buffy patrolled pretty much around the clock, stopping to eat and sleep just enough to keep herself from collapsing. Giles, Willow and Xander all expressed concern, but they just didn't understand. She couldn't stop. When she stopped, the bad thoughts crept in.

Would it kill you to say it back to him, just once? Forrest's angry words seemed forever stuck in her memory. You could always take it back if he lives. She told herself over and over again that he was only trying to be nasty, but that was small comfort against the thought that Riley might die thinking she didn't care. Especially now, when she couldn't be there with him… what would Forrest have told him about her absence? Would he bother with an explanation at all? Did Riley think she had just walked out on him?

She'd wanted to tell him. She'd rehearsed the words in her mind a thousand times. I love you, Riley. Not so difficult, really. But somehow, they always stuck in her throat. Because once she spoke, Angel would no longer be the only man she'd ever said it to, and something in her resisted that final, irrevocable step. It had never occurred to her that silence could be irrevocable too.

At least once a day, she made a point of cornering Graham somewhere on campus. His progress reports were always depressingly the same. Riley was "stable." Forrest was "edgy." Dr. Wu was "working on it." Buffy knew none of it was his fault, and that he was taking a risk just by talking to her, but it was getting more and more difficult not to lash out at him just because he was there.

At the end of the third day, Giles pronounced that his spell was ready. "Or at least," he amended immediately, "as ready as it ever will be."

Buffy looked at him dubiously. "This isn't the ringing endorsement I was hoping for, Giles."

He gave an apologetic little shrug. "It's the best I can offer, I'm afraid. This isn't exactly something we can test or predict. I can tell you that all the necessary spell components are in place, that their energies should balance, that there have been no ill omens at any point during the preparation. But in the end, we won't know the result until we actually do it."

"We?"

"Myself, Willow and Tara. The ritual requires three people."

"Which means I have to get all three of you into the compound." Buffy ran one hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on a snarl. "That ought to be fun."

"I take it the Initiative hasn't had a change of heart?"

"Not according to Graham, it hasn't." Buffy hesitated, considering her options. "I could talk to him. Get him to take a message to Forrest. But if Forrest says no, it'll be that much harder to get in on our own. They'll be expecting us."

"And the odds of Forrest saying no are…"

"Pretty much certain," Buffy admitted reluctantly. The prospect of sneaking the entire spell-casting portion of the Scooby Gang past Initiative security was not especially cheering. But she remembered all too well the cold anger on Forrest's face as he and the Initiative guard escorted her from the compound at gunpoint. "I guess there's no choice, really. We break in."

VIII

Forrest felt as if the world had shrunk around him. There was his office, and Riley's room, and the stretch of corridor in between. He left the compound only to sleep or shower, eating at his desk, and spending all his spare time at Riley's bedside. He was aware of the men watching him with varying degrees of sympathy, puzzlement, and concern. They thought he was overdoing it. "I know they're supposed to be best buds and stuff," he overheard Mason whispering to Graham once, "but shit, man, you'd think it's his mother dying in there or something."

Graham, who had received his share of Forrest's drunken confidences over the years, replied with a noncommittal grunt. He, too, gave Forrest a lot of concerned looks, but he kept his comments to himself. He was also the only other person who came to visit Riley on a regular basis.

Not that Riley was in any condition to notice. Wu insisted that he was still conscious and aware of his surroundings, but Forrest saw no sign of it. Riley no longer reacted to anything that went on around him - no movement, no sound, no little shifts of facial expression in response to anything Forrest said. His body could no longer handle food, not even the liquid stuff Wu had been tube-feeding him, so now there was another IV dripping nutrient solution straight into a vein in his chest. He might as well have been a vegetable lying there. Forrest no longer really believed that his visits made any difference, but he kept up anyway, because to stop would be to admit defeat.

"You should've been there last night, man. Graham's team came across a new class of Hostile. They got it cornered in the parking lot behind the gym, and you know what it did? Turned around, lifted up its tail, and sprayed them. Kinda like a skunk, except skunks smell like gardenias compared to this shit. We had to stick the entire team in the shower for three hours, burn their clothes, and toss all their gear. Graham's talking about shaving his head, 'cause he can't get the smell out of his hair." Forrest paused to catch a breath, and to gauge Riley's reaction to the anecdote. Nothing. Not the slightest flicker of understanding in Riley's eyes, no change in the labored rhythm of his breathing.

Forrest moved his chair a little closer to the bed and took hold of Riley's hand, which was as demonstrative as he ever allowed himself to get. "I talked to Dr. Wu and Dr. Ginzberg this morning. They've been tinkering with the antitoxin formula. Wu thinks they might have a better version in a few days. And Ginzberg said something about radiation treatment. I really think they'll-"

"Forrest?"

The word was spoken so softly, Forrest almost missed it. Then he thought he must've imagined it. It had been days since the last time Riley spoke. Forrest leaned in closer.

"Riley? You still with me?"

"Forrest…"

"What is it, Ry?"

"Tell them to stop."

"What are-" Forrest choked back the question as his tired brain belatedly processed Riley's words. "No way."

"Please. I'm…" Riley stopped and took three slow, ragged breaths, as if gathering strength to finish the sentence. "I'm too tired."

"No." Forrest's throat felt tight and painful, and he could barely choke the word out. "Don't say shit like that, man. I know you don't mean it."

Riley said nothing, obviously exhausted by his earlier effort. The look in his eyes was clear enough, though. Forrest fled from that look, leaving the room at a run, not stopping until he was back in his quarters at Lowell House with the door locked behind him.

He didn't mean it. Forrest sat on the floor, feeling too tired and shaky to even make it to the bed. Riley couldn't mean it. It was the pain talking, or the Vinranka controlling him somehow. Because Riley would never just give up like that, would never ask to die, would never…

Please help him. It wasn't really a prayer. Forrest had never been the religious type, but this was as close as he'd ever come in the course of an eventful life. Please. Just let him be okay. I'll do anything….

His beeper went off.

---

Graham Miller always went to lunch right after his Applied Statistics class. Buffy caught up to him on the path between Mulcahy Hall and the cafeteria, jogging up from behind to grab his arm. He didn't look surprised to see her, just resigned - until she hauled him off the path onto the grass.

"Giles has a spell to help Riley," she hissed into his ear. "We need to get him, Willow and Tara into the compound."

"All right." Graham nodded, looking tense and cautiously hopeful. "I'll talk to Forrest."

"Forget it. We both know he's not going to listen. No, you're the one who's going to get us in."

Graham shook his head. "I can't authorize-"

"You don't need to authorize anything." Buffy smiled coldly and tightened her grip on his arm. "You get to be the hostage."

He tensed, and Buffy could see he was going to try to bolt. She quickly stepped closer, still smiling, and wrapped her free arm around his waist. She kept an eye out in case anyone was watching, but people were hurrying past without a second glance. There was nothing unusual to see after all, just another couple flirting on the lawn. Buffy kept up the charade by giggling and resting her head on Graham's shoulder.

"If you try to run," she told him sweetly, "I'll rip your arm off and beat you over the head with it."

"In the middle of campus in broad daylight?" He sounded half-surprised and half-amused. Buffy gave his elbow a little twist, eliciting a grunt that didn't sound amused at all.

"Yes. Do you believe me?"

"This isn't going to wo-"

"Do you believe me?"

"Ow. Yeah, I believe you."

"Good." Buffy let go of his waist and led him back to the path, maintaining the pressure on his elbow. "Don't fight me on this, Graham, I don't want to have to hurt you. Besides, you don't really want to stop me, do you? I'm trying to save Riley's life here."

"I still think we should talk to Forrest," he said. "You're not going to save anyone if you get yourself shot."

"I know. That's what you're here for."

Giles, Willow and Tara waited for them in the student parking lot behind Stevenson Hall. Giles had Buffy's weapons bag, Willow and Tara had their backpacks full of magical goodies, and they all looked suitably grim and determined. Buffy gave them a cheery wave.

"Hey, guys, you remember Graham Miller, don't you? He'll be our designated hostage for today. Say hello to everyone, Graham."

"Hello," Graham said blandly. Buffy patted him on the head.

"Good boy. Now, we need a back entrance, somewhere out of sight of Lowell House. I assume there is one. Show me."

Graham hesitated, took a long look at Buffy's face, and sighed. "Follow me."

The back entrance turned out to be a broom closet in the basement of one of the senior dorms. Graham shoved the brooms and buckets out of the way, recited his name and security code into an unseen mike, and the closet's back wall slid sideways to reveal a narrow, dimly lit shaft with metal brackets embedded into one wall to form a ladder.

Buffy made Graham climb down first and kept a watchful eye on him as she followed, but he made no suspicious moves. When Buffy dropped down next to him, he solemnly held his arm out to her.

"Just don't rip it off by accident, okay?"

"No, if I do it, it will definitely be on purpose," Buffy promised.

There was a thud and a clang as her weapons bag landed at her feet, followed by a belated "Heads up!" call from Giles. Buffy dug through the contents quickly, producing one of her larger and nastier knives.

"There. That should convince your buddies you're in mortal danger, don't you think?"

Graham eyed the serrated blade with a deeply unhappy expression. "Is this really necessary?"

"Don't worry. If I slit your throat, it'll be on purpose too."

There must've been a security camera hidden somewhere very near the shaft, because the first batch of commandos appeared while Tara was still making her way down. Buffy heard them stomping long before they showed up and had Graham in front of her, knife under his chin, by the time they came into view.

"Stop right there," Buffy snapped, and they stopped right there, squinting coldly over their rifle barrels but making no move to attack. "Put down the guns and back off."

They didn't move. There were three of them - Mason and two guys whose names Buffy couldn't recall, though she remembered seeing them around - wearing identical pissed-off expressions. They all looked ready to stand there until hell froze over. Or until reinforcements arrived, which was probably more to the point. Buffy let her knife hand twitch a little, which got an answering twitch out of the three commandos and an unhappy hiss out of Graham.

"Better hurry," she told them. "My arm's getting tired. I might slip." That was almost true. Graham wasn't especially tall by Initiative standards, but he still towered over Buffy, and she had to raise her arm at an awkward angle in order to get it around his neck. It wouldn't actually make her slip, but it was certainly increasing her annoyance quotient.

"Buffy." Mason took a cautious half-step forward, freezing when Buffy twitched her hand again. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to help Riley. We have a spell that can cure him. Just take us to him, and-"

"A spell?" Mason gave a short, angry laugh. "Like the one you tried the last time, you mean? Forrest told us what happened. Riley almost died."

"Yeah, but this one is diffe-" Buffy broke off, wincing. Okay, that was just a tad lame. "Look, let's get back to the subject at hand, okay? Put down the guns and back off, or I start doing damage of the gross and bloody kind."

Mason looked annoyingly unimpressed. "You're a Slayer. You don't kill humans."

"Not normally, no. But I'm feeling unusually cranky today."

A long, tense silence followed this declaration. The commandos glared. Buffy glared. Giles, Willow and Tara hung back, looking nervous. Graham held very still. Buffy wondered what she would do if Mason called her bluff. Killing Graham - or anyone else, for that matter - wasn't really an option, but the prospect of trying to fight her way past three well-armed soldiers didn't fill her with enthusiasm. And if they stuck around much longer, the rest of the Initiative was going to show up, and then they'd really be-

"Mason." Graham's voice held a very convincing note of panic. "Get Forrest down here, now."

"Graham…" Buffy lifted the knife a little higher, forcing him to tilt his head back. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to stop this from turning into a firefight," he whispered. "I told you this was a stupid plan."

"Getting Forrest involved is not going to-"

"Yes it will. He issued the order to keep you out, he can revoke it. Mason's not going to back down. This is the only way." Graham raised his voice. "Come on, Mason. It's Forrest's call. Get him down here."

Mason hesitated for another couple of seconds, then reached for his cell phone.

Forrest arrived about three minutes later, and Buffy found herself genuinely shocked at his appearance. He looked … well, maybe not like Hell - she had seen enough of Hell not to make such comparisons lightly -but at least like Purgatory. If he'd slept a wink since Buffy last saw him, he was doing a fine job of hiding it. He stood with one hand braced against the wall, and she suspected he needed the support to keep from keeling over.

"Slayer," he muttered darkly. "What's it going to take to get you out of my life?"

Buffy resisted the temptation to point out that it wasn't his life she was in. Instead she repeated, in the most reasonable tone she could manage, the sales pitch for Giles' spell. She tried to gauge Forrest's reaction as she spoke, but his eyes were hooded and his jaw set, and she couldn't read his expression. When she finished, he looked not at her, but at Giles.

"Will it really work?" he demanded.

Giles shrugged diffidently. "There's a decent chance."

Forrest nodded, stared at the floor for a few moments, then lifted his head and finally met Buffy's eyes.

"All right," he said. "I'll take you to him."

---

"I'd like to state for the record," Dr. Wu announced to the universe at large, "that I'm here under protest, and that this entire procedure is being performed over my vehement objection."

"Noted," Forrest muttered.

"Object all you want," Buffy told her. "Just keep out of the way."

The three of them were hovering in the hallway outside Riley's room, taking turns peering through the glass panel to see Giles and Willow painting concentric rings of incomprehensible symbols on the floor around Riley's bed. They had been at it for nearly an hour now and had covered most of the room. Tara, meanwhile, had sprinkled water from a silver bowl over Riley's face and chest, and was now sitting in a chair off to the side, grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. Riley himself had been stripped naked, disconnected - over more of Wu's vehement objections - from all medical equipment, and strapped to the bed in 4-point restraints. Buffy had talked to him during the preparations, trying to explain and reassure, but she had no idea how much he had heard or understood.

Now there was nothing to do except wait. Giles had tried to suggest that the hallway might not be the most comfortable place for a vigil, but Buffy knew she'd go crazy unless she was close to the action. Forrest, she suspected, had similar reasons for his presence. And Wu was standing by with a crash cart and a syringe filled with antitoxin, in case Riley had a seizure. It was not a cheerful gathering, but Buffy did her best to be optimistic.

"I have the new antitoxin ready," Wu grumbled. "And you hold me back for this… voodoo?"

"It's not Voodoo," Buffy told her. "Giles made both Willow and Tara swear on their graves to never, ever try Voodoo. He says it's too specialized to be handled by amateurs, and the Loa are a dangerous, unreliable bunch who'd just as soon eat you as talk to you. This is Runic magic, not that I have any real idea what that means and you think I'm a total loon, don't you?"

Forrest and Wu were both staring at her as if she had two heads. Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't freak, you two. It's going to work. Giles explained the whole thing to me. It's kind of like an exorcism - I actually gave him the idea when I said that Riley was possessed. They're going to force the Vinranka into non-corporeal form, then expel it. Sort of like a physical exorcism instead of a spiritual one."

Neither Forrest nor Wu looked especially reassured by this, so Buffy gave up on further explanations and looked inside the room again.

Giles and Willow had finished with the floor. As a finishing touch, they produced a small glass jar painted with a similar design and placed it exactly halfway between the bed and the door. Now Willow knelt at the foot of the bed, eyes closed, and chanted something in a voice too soft to hear while Giles drew a rune on Riley's chest using the same inky stuff he had used on the floor, and Tara lit candles.

Forrest shifted from foot to foot, looking tense. "This is what started the trouble the last time. It's not the same kind of candle, is it?"

"Totally different," Buffy said quickly. She had no idea if that was actually true, but she knew she had to keep Forrest calm, or the whole thing could blow up. "Besides, I think that chant Willow's doing is a masking spell, so the Vinranka won't notice what's happening until it's too late."

"Too late for whom?" Forrest grumbled darkly, but he made no move to interfere.

Tara sprinkled a pinch of herbs over each candle, knelt down next to Willow, and took up the chant. A few seconds later, Giles switched off the overhead lights and joined them. Their voices grew loud enough for Buffy to hear them through the closed door, but she couldn't make out the words. When she placed her hands against the door, she could feel a faint hum in the metal as the power of the spell built inside the room.

"What's going on in there? Let me see." Forrest tried to shoulder her aside. She held her place just long enough to show him that he couldn't, then moved just enough to allow him to stand next to her and look.

Giles, Willow and Tara continued chanting. They were beginning to show the strain: Giles' forehead was beaded with sweat, Tara kept clenching and unclenching her fists, and Willow swayed from side to side, looking as if she might faint. The candle flames around them flickered, as if a draft was blowing through the room, but nothing else appeared to be touched.

"Nothing's happening," Forrest complained.

The runes on the floor glowed with a white light, faint at first but brightening steadily. All three spell-casters faltered for a moment, then linked hands and resumed the chant. On the bed, Riley's body began to shudder and twitch.

Forrest made a move to open the door, but Buffy blocked him with one arm. "Don't. Break the spell now, and you might kill all four of them."

"They're hurting him-"

"I don't think so. I think the spell is working."

The mark on Riley's chest was glowing too now, and he was bucking so against the restraints, Buffy began to fear he might actually break them. The door was throbbing like a drum beneath her hands, and even the floor seemed to vibrate. Just how much power was this spell conjuring, she wondered. And what would happen if it got loose?

Riley screamed. A green mist streamed from his mouth and nose, steamed from his skin, swirled in the same invisible breeze that was stirring the candles. The swirl became a funnel, a mini-tornado that bounced off the walls a few times before being sucked, with a furious, wailing sound, into the painted glass jar. Willow disengaged her hands from Giles' and Tara's, lurched forward, and slammed the lid down.

All the candles in the room went out at once. The surge of magical energy broke off with a silent but powerful snap, like a psychic thunderclap. Buffy staggered back from the door, vaguely aware of Forrest and Wu doing the same. She recovered her footing first and ran forward again to peek through the glass, but the runes had stopped glowing and the room was now dark. Buffy shoved the door open and ran one hand against the wall until she hit the light switch.

Giles, Willow and Tara were still on their knees on the floor, clinging to each other and gasping with exhaustion. None of them looked as if they were about to die, so Buffy ran over to the bed to check on Riley. His eyes were closed, and he didn't react when she undid the restraints, but he was breathing evenly.

Wu hurried over, all cool and business-like, checking Riley's pulse and lifting his eyelids to shine a pen light at his pupils.

"Vital signs seem normal," she murmured, sounding more puzzled than pleased. "I think he's fainted."

"What a good idea," Giles sighed, and keeled over.

EPILOGUE

Buffy shuffled sideways through the door, lugging a box under one arm and a dozen mylar balloons in the other.

"Hey, you!" she called out to Riley, a second before realizing she wasn't the only visitor in the room. "Oh, hi, Forrest."

"I was just leaving," he grunted and hurried out. Buffy shrugged, dumped her box on the floor, and set about tying the balloons to the bedpost above Riley's head.

"I was going to get flowers," she said, "but Xander said it wasn't manly enough, and Willow thought you might not be too fond of plants right now, even though the Vinranka really wasn't one, but it being all green and leafy and stuff, and I'm totally babbling, aren't I."

"I like to hear you babble." Riley smiled, and it was almost like his usual broad grin. He had slept for four days straight and woken up hungry, both of which Dr. Wu had pronounced to be favorable signs. He was still too pale and thin for Buffy's comfort - he'd lost over fifteen pounds in a week - but the lines in his face had smoothed out and his eyes were clear. When Buffy cupped his face to kiss him, his skin felt warm but not feverish.

"You're in luck then, 'cause I'm bubbling with babble today." Buffy sat down in the chair Forrest had vacated, and ripped open the box at her feet. "And gifts. Babble and gifts, all for you, though not all from me. The balloons are from me." She tossed the cardboard lid aside and began unpacking smaller boxes and containers. "The chocolate chip cookies are from Willow. The little crystal doodad is from Tara. You're supposed to hang it above the bed and it focuses positive energy or somesuch. Looks pretty, anyway. The Electronic Battleship set is from Xander and Anya, and the thermos is from Giles, I think it's got tea in it. I can pour it out in the sink if you like."

"No, leave it here." Riley took the thermos from her and put it on the bedside table, next to a "get well" card with a picture of a girl in a bikini and army boots, all scribbled over with several dozen signatures. "Tell the gang thanks for me, okay? I feel better already."

"Well, how about a little extra from me, then?" Buffy leaned forward and kissed him again. She meant it to be a quick, casual smooch, but Riley responded with more enthusiasm than she would've expected from a man who was at death's door less than a week ago. And the smooch turned into something more like a swoon, which ended with Buffy sprawled on top of Riley, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"I think we'd better stop," he whispered when they came up for air. "Not that I'm not enjoying myself, but I'd rather not have Dr. Wu come running in here to see why my heart monitor is spiking."

"Wuss." Buffy laughed and planted a kiss on his shoulder. "How about a nice, safe cuddle, then?"

"I think I can manage that…"

So Buffy curled up against Riley's side, closed her eyes, and listened to the strong, steady sound of his breathing as he held her. It was… comfortable. Warm. A nice glowy feeling, and she found herself wondering for the thousandth time if this could be love. It seemed impossible to take this peaceful feeling and the heart-wrenching intensity she'd felt for Angel, and call them by the same name. Because she had loved Angel, there could be no question about that. All the pain they'd put each other through, put the people around them through - it had to be for love, because otherwise it was for nothing. And if that was love, then what did she and Riley have?

He'd made no more declarations since he'd woken the day before. And he told her, when she dropped a few hints about it, that he had only vague recollections of anything that went on during the week he'd been possessed by the Vinranka. Buffy had no idea if that was really true or if he was just letting her off the hook, but she was willing to go along with either case.

"I have to go," she whispered after a while. "I'm thinking of doing something really radical today, like actually going to class again. See you later tonight?"

"I'll be here." Riley kissed the top of her head and let her go.

Forrest was waiting for her in the corridor when she left the room. Buffy stopped, instantly uncomfortable, unsure what to expect. He just stood there and looked at her, silent and intense, and though he wasn't actually blocking her way, she didn't feel easy just turning her back on him and walking by.

"What?" she finally asked.

Forrest stared at the wall above her head rather than meet her eyes. "You saved his life," he said. "You and your friends. You saved him when we couldn't. It's not really gonna change anything, but… I'm grateful."

"He would've probably died in that sewer," Buffy pointed out. "And me and Xander, too, if you and your guys hadn't shown up. And sure as hell would've died before Giles could finish designing the spell if your Dr. Wu hadn't been such a competent bitch." She sighed, tired of all this tension and hostility. "It's not a competition, Forrest. Riley's okay. Do we really need to sit here keeping score about who did what?"

"No," he muttered grudgingly. "I suppose we don't." He looked directly at her for the first time, and managed something vaguely resembling a smile before turning away again. Buffy made herself smile back. Things would never be comfortable between them, that was clear enough, but they didn't have to be at each other's throats all the time.

"Truce?" She offered.

"Truce," he agreed. "Come on. I'll walk you out."

The End