Written for the ultimate multifandom drabbleathon and the prompt, "Maggie Walsh/Riley Finn, every breath you take." Set in season four.

Maggie Walsh lays awake again. Same thing night after night. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she came to Sunnydale and she couldn't tell of it was from the tedious and petty university politics or her real work.

Tree branches rap at the windows as the wind picks up outside.

Her sensibly slipper clad feet take her to the computer and she brings up the camera feeds. Its a familiar program and she finds the specific feed with ease. She had been watching it more and more as of late. The program loads, the tiny pixalized hour glass turns, and Maggie puts on her computer glasses.

The feed pops up, fuzzy and grayscale, in a small browser. She clicks, tired fingers pressing too hard on the mouse, to make it larger. She smiles at the shirtless young man sprawled out on the bed. No covers, of course, California was hotter than usual this spring and the fraternity house's air conditioner had been broken for days. She made a note to remind Riley tomorrow about calling a repair man.

For the first time in weeks, Buffy Summers was in her own bed. Presumably.

Maggie wasn't sure if she liked that girl anymore.

Despite the quality of the film, she can see his features. His chest rising up and down in placid sleep. Its soothing to her on levels she didn't dwell on. Zooming in, she searches his face as if it could be the answer to the riddle of room 314.