You left me unguided
You left me divided
With room to complain
So I say in this song
The wait is too long

The pounding at the door matched almost exactly the pounding in his head. This time, Riley was in no doubt as to who he'd see when he opened it.

"You look like a train wreck," the vampire said, appraising him.

"This isn't a good time, Spike," Riley said quietly. But he made no move to shut the door.

"Angel in?" he asked, craning his neck to see behind the boy. Riley shook his head and just stood there looking at him. Spike shifted under his gaze. "What is it, then?" At first he didn't think the boy would respond, but then Riley seemed to come to a decision.

"Angel thinks you're evil."

"Does he now?" Spike rocked back on his heels and smiled, flattered. "Was he warning you off me?"

"No," Riley replied. "He just said all vampires are evil. Are you evil, Spike?"

"Well," Spike said immodestly, "I am pretty bad."

"Yeah, but are you *evil*?"

It was a genuine question. So Spike quickly made a decision of his own. "I might be." He paused, hoping the risk would pay off. "I haven't been entirely honest with you, Riley. I haven't lied to you or anything - I mean, everything I've said to you is true. I just haven't told you everything there is."

The words had a familiar ring; Riley could almost hear himself speaking to Buffy. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"My visits, weren't entirely my idea. Don't get me wrong, I *wanted* to see you - but I got a little extra push." Riley's brow knit as he waited for Spike to continue. "Do you know who Darla is?" Riley shook his head. "She's Angel's sire. She made Angelus. Are you with me?" Riley nodded. "Right," Spike went on. "Well, she wants him back."

"So," Riley said slowly, "she sent you - for me?"

"That's right."

Riley shook his head slightly, not quite following. "But what did she expect you to do? You can't kill me."

"No," Spike agreed. "She wanted me to make you an offer you couldn't refuse." He watched as the light dawned on Riley's face.

"To turn me." When Spike nodded, Riley sighed. "So, you didn't really want me."

"Oh, but I did! I told you I meant everything I said to you."

Riley tried to digest what Spike had said. "Why are you telling me this now? Why are you telling me at all?"

Spike was one of the best liars around, which is what made him such a marvelous truth-teller. Because sometimes truth doesn't sound like truth, and you need an instinct for the right mixture to be convincing. "Because I think Darla means to betray me," Spike said. "Four is her magic number, and she only needs one more. She wants it to be Angelus, for, I dunno. Sentimental reasons. But if she can't get him, she wants you. She's taken a shine to you." He raised his eyebrows at Riley. "Either way, no room for Spike." He could see acceptance replacing doubt in Riley's eyes, though there was still a ways to go.

"But that doesn't explain why you're telling me all this," Riley said, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned in the doorway.

"I don't have anyone else to turn to. I don't think either Darla or Angel would hesitate to kill me if it came down to it, and Dru barely knows I exist anymore. And they are - or they were, my family. I can't go back to Sunnydale because Buffy hasn't forgiven what I did when I showed her-" Spike cut the sentence, and gestured vaguely in Riley's direction. The boy had the grace to blush at the reminder of that night at the vampires nest. "I'm pretty sure she'd happily stake me on sight. So you see, I've no one. Except-" Spike offered his hands palms-up helplessly.

Uncertain empathy flickered in Riley's eyes. "Except me?"

"Bloody ridiculous, innit?" Spike acknowledged.

"No," Riley said slowly, "just... confusing." He turned his head, lost in thought, not knowing what to think. He put a hand to his head, massaging his forehead as if willing his thoughts to come clear. A rumbling sound interrupted him and he looked sharply at Spike.

"Sorry." The vampire rubbed his stomach ruefully. "It's been awhile. You don't suppose I could have some bluh-" Riley looked at him so harshly that Spike couldn't finish the word. "No, not from you, Riley!" Spike explained quickly. "I know better than to ask that. I just thought maybe Angel could spare some?" Spike looked at Riley hopefully. Riley considered the matter, then told Spike to wait.

Of course he knew where Angel kept the blood, though he never drank in front of Riley. But Riley also knew that Angel kept very careful track of his supply, and would surely notice if any were missing. In the kitchen, he took out a small knife and held it as if cutting an imaginary vegetable in his other hand. ~I'll just tell Angel it was an accident,~ he told himself as he took a deep breath in preparation. Then he quickly slashed his hand open, wincing at the expected pain.

Spike was slouched lazily against the doorway as he waited, but when he smelled the fresh blood he snapped to attention, eyes blazing golden as Riley approached, fixed on the bleeding hand he cupped carefully with his good one so as not to drip on the floor. He didn't look up until he was almost to Spike.

"I guess you'd better come in," he said quietly. "And shut the door behind you."

Spike didn't need to be asked twice. He was at Riley's side in less than a second, taking the bloody hand in both of his own. But Riley removed himself and walked backwards to the sofa, eyes never leaving Spike's as he sat down. When the boy nodded assent, Spike glided across the open space to sit beside him, taking the hand once again in his own. Before he could taste it, however, Riley said, "Only what's flowing, Spike. No teeth." His mouth inches from Riley's hand, Spike glanced at him and nodded his understanding as he pressed his lips to the cut, kissing it. He pulled back, savoring Riley's blood, his countenance imparting a silent gratitude as the demon slipped into place. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and began licking the blood that had run over Riley's hand and down his wrist, then returned to lap at the blood streaming from the wound. He found it awkward at first, just lapping at the blood without getting a good grip with his teeth... but soon he was lost in the sensation coursing through him, filling the coldness and emptiness in every part of his body, a rich living warmth, quickening him, better than anything, better than Darla's - this was *human* blood and there was nothing like it.

Spike was so lost in his delirium that he forgot himself and started to sink his fangs into the flesh of Riley's hand. Almost simultaneously, he felt the piercing pain inside his head as the chip was set off and a sharp blow to the side of his head as Riley clouted him with his free hand, hard enough to knock him to the floor. He scrambled out of reach and was kneeling up, clutching his head and reeling from the double shot of pain, when Riley approached him. Looking up with mistrust and apprehension, Spike staggered to his feet. Silently, Riley proffered his hand. Spike looked at him without moving, licking the remnants of Riley's blood from the corners of his mouth with a discreet tongue, eyes burning gold with carnal hunger.

Not wishing to intimidate him, Riley sat in the armchair. He leaned forward, knees apart, bracing his good hand on one knee as he held his offering outstretched to the vampire. "It's okay," Riley coaxed Spike back to him. "Go ahead. Just no teeth."

Spike's instinctual commonsense made him reluctant - what was the boy's game? But Riley's tone was so soothing and encouraging, and the scent of his blood, so near, so overpowering... his wantonness overriding any doubts, Spike slid across the floor, halting on his knees before Riley. He bent his head and began to work on the open cut again, tonguing it, slurping and licking for all he was worth.

While Spike fed, squirming in apparent arousal, Riley started to get a little turned on himself just by the pleasure he was giving Spike. He wondered if this was at all how Angel felt when he was with Riley. He slid off the chair and without breaking contact scooted around to sit behind Spike, giving the vampire a better angle of access. Holding the purring vampire against him, his arm around Spike's waist, Riley felt the beginnings of the thrill prickling through his body as Spike worked on him, mixing with the pain, creating something new yet wonderously familiar. More than familiar. Riley shivered. It had been so long... he knew it was wrong, but - just one more time, this would be the last time, he promised himself. He pulled his hand away slightly. Although he was nowhere near satiated, Spike stopped at once and tried to twist around to thank Riley. But even as he turned his head, he felt Riley's mouth at his ear, whispering "bite" as he pressed his blood-smeared wrist to Spike's lips.

The thrill rippled through him fully as Spike's fangs penetrated. Riley's shivery sigh turned into a low moan as Spike's renewed efforts launched the bloodrush-pull. The sucking was almost better than he remembered. His hand flat against Spike's stomach, Riley pulled him even closer. And from the tremor that went through Spike, Riley knew the vampire could feel his hard-on. He slipped his hand down and without prelude began jerking the vampire off. He smiled as Spike bucked in response, taking his mouth from the bloodflow just long enough to exclaim, "Oh fuck me, Riley!", and then he was back feeding. Any skepticim he had about Riley's intentions fell away as Spike gave himself over completely, sucking frantically at one hand while pumping into the other. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but the way Riley was holding him that way so firmly excited him even more. He thought that Riley was either a natural or that Angel had trained him well, and decided that no one had taught the boy that pleasure/pain, give/withhold dominance principle. He was a natural. ~I bet you fuck like a demon, Riley Finn. If only someone would let you out.~ As he came, Spike thought that he actually might turn Riley for real, for himself, and not share him or deliver him to Darla.

Riley was undulating rapturously with Spike as the vampire's cum spurted out, splashing his hand. He knew he was on the verge himself, but kept telling himself not to come: because this wasn't Angel and he couldn't pretend it was; he knew too well the feel and aroma and taste of Angel - and he didn't want to come with anyone but Angel.

Even after he came, Spike continued to suck in ecstasy at Riley's wrist for a few moments. When he finally took his mouth from the wound, he twisted around to plant a crimson kiss on Riley's mouth, then delicately licked the blood off the boy's lips. Riley let go of him then to lie back on the floor. Still sitting between the boy's legs, Spike pivoted around and regarded him: although his erection was still visible, Riley was lying still with a somber expression.

But now was not the time for regrets. So reaching for Riley's zipper, Spike said, "Your turn." But the boy was quickly up and out of range, going to sit on the sofa with his face down-turned, hugging his knees to his chest. He was still bleeding, but he didn't seem to care. Spike stood and zipped himself as he went over to the sofa. At his approach, Riley spoke without lifting his head.

"It'll be okay." His voice was muffled. "I'll just tell him I had a relapse. I was out and I couldn't help myself. He doesn't have to know it was here. He doesn't have to know it was you."

"Riley," Spike said gently, crouching by the sofa. Riley turned his head, resting it on his knees as he looked at Spike. Shame and remorse, but no tears. Spike leaned in to kiss him but Riley swiveled away, so Spike kissed his neck just below the jawline. He knew the tremor that vibrated through the boy's body was not one of fear. Carefully he reached between Riley's legs and squeezed him lightly, his risk justified as Riley's cock stiffened without further coaxing. Riley turned his face completely away, heart betrayed by the body that so badly wanted Spike's touch.

Spike looked at the tense, twisted body before him. "I'm not gonna rape you, Riley," he said, letting go. "It's not about what I want. It's about what *you* want." Riley looked at him then. "It's about what I can give you."

Riley unfolded himself to sit up properly. Spike sat beside him. "I don't want sex," Riley told him bluntly.

"Okay," Spike nodded. And since they were being so direct, he added, "What about the gift?" When Riley didn't reply, Spike said, "I'm just saying - you gave me what I wanted, more than I asked for. Now it's only fair-"

"Since when do you care about 'fair'?"

Spike grinned and shrugged. Then he turned serious again: "What *do* you want, Riley?"

Riley opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. Finally, he said, "Nothing you can give me. You should just go."

"Don't be so sure," Spike said, cuddling up to Riley. He enfolded the boy in his arms, pulling him down when he felt Riley yield to the embrace. Lying on the sofa, Riley allowed Spike to hold him, and then shifted to put his arms around the blond vampire. He closed his eyes, breathing shallow yet steady. A dim part of his brain protested that this was completely wrong, at least as wrong as what he'd done earlier; that he was making things worse, not better. But the rest of Riley just wanted this one little moment to hold someone and be held, without fearing that he would twitch and the someone would be gone. Just this one little moment, then get Spike out of here and clean up this mess before *he* got back, but first just this one little moment....

For his part, Spike was bored near to tears. But he stayed where he was because, one, it was what Riley wanted and he was here to give Riley whatever he wanted; and two, now that Angel had failed to walk in on them 'in flagrante delecto,' how perfect if Angel were to find them like this! So Spike was ready when he sensed his sire approach....

+++

Angel had chased Darla through the streets and seedier establishments of Los Angeles for close to an hour before he'd finally lost her. Of course she'd known he was following, and he didn't know why she'd led him on this merry chase - but he was sure she'd had a reason. She was probably just fucking with him. Briefly, he feared that she'd led him away and ditched him just to go back for Riley... but he was so close to home. Surely she wouldn't risk it, with him this nearby. But you never could tell with Darla. As Angel hurried back to the hotel, he berated himself for not warning Riley about her. He knew Riley was smart, but in the state of mind he'd been in lately, he might let her in trying to help her... Angel increased his speed.

As he approached the front door, Angel sensed another vampire within. Riley's safey was his only concern as he kicked in the door in preference to fumbling for his key. The instant he saw the two supine figures on the sofa, dark and light blond, his fears were confirmed. But in the very next instant, even as they raised themselves and turned to him, he recognized that the light blond was too light to be Darla: that it was not Darla but Spike lying with Riley - and that Spike could only be inside if Riley had taken him in. The scent of blood mixed with cum hung heavy in the air. And in that instant, Angel let go.

Angelus was upon them before they could fully extricate themselves from each other. He tore Spike from Riley's arms and flung him half across the room. Spike tried to scramble to his feet but Angelus was already on him again, slamming him to the ground, pinning the smaller vampire beneath his superior weight, furiously pounding his face, easily deflecting the blows Spike tried to return. The bone-breaking impacts and the growling from Angelus were the only sounds in the oddly still air. Bloodied and battered, Spike gave up trying to fight back and merely tried to defend himself as Angelus continued to pound his face and arms. Abruptly Angelus stood and waited for Spike to make a move. As soon as he tried to roll to his side, Angelus booted him back and knocked him unconscious with a particularly vicious kick to the head. Satisfied for the moment, Angelus hauled the beaten vampire to the open doorway and tossed him down the steps. Then he whirled on Riley.

The boy had the gall to be sitting on the sofa, watching him. Did he think this was a performance, a show, some archaic display of honor-defending? Enraged, Angelus swept across the room. Riley's head tilted up to meet his gaze, and Angelus couldn't stand the look in his eyes. Acceptance. Nothing but silent acceptance. Angelus grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the nearest wall, whirling to slam him against it, holding Riley by the throat with one blood-smeared hand. He gave the boy no words, just a cold stare. ~You always want me to look at you. Now I'm looking. How do you like it?~ Riley met his gaze steadily, afraid yet not afraid. It was intolerable. He began pressing the heel of his hand against Riley's windpipe, almost but not quite cutting off his air. Riley's breath went shallow. ~How do you like what you see now?~ Angelus kept staring and gradually increasing the pressure, until he finally got what he wanted: fear flickered and dominated in Riley's eyes. ~You *should* be afraid of me.~ He released Riley then and stepped back as the boy dropped to his knees, hand at his throat. Angelus turned his back, expecting to hear Riley's footsteps retreat up the stairs. But when the footsteps came, they went to the door. Angelus fought himself and won the battle not to follow or even turn around. He stood alone in the room long after the door that, had it not been kicked in, would have closed.

*****
Part 9:

He stood perfectly still for so long after Riley's departure that he almost convinced himself nothing had happened. But then he turned around and saw the open doorway, a partial footprint in the trail of blood. He listened and heard no rustling of clothing, no breathing, no heartbeat. He felt the emptiness everywhere. And all hell broke loose.

Wildly he tore through the hotel on a rampage of demolition, smashing everything to smithereens in a blind, undirected rage. There was no life within these walls to destroy, but he could obliterate the memories every object in every room might hold, starting with the sofa where he'd found them. From there he moved through room after room: overturning the refrigerator and crushing its contents underfoot as he split apart the cupboards in a violent parody of the first night he'd fucked the boy; splintering with his bare hands the dresser the boy had painstakingly restored; storming through the halls, ripping down picture frames and breaking mirrors, punching holes in the walls at random intervals; wrecking at least one thing in each room of the hotel that the boy may have ever entered. He skipped his own master bedroom - nothing to annihilate there, no memories or reminders, for this room was his sanctuary and he'd never let anyone inside it.

He saved Riley's room for last. In his wrath, all he could see was the bed. Snatching up the pillows in one hand, he used his other to shatter the window before tossing out the pillows, ripping the comforter and sheets off, flinging them after the pillows, and finally grappling with the exposed mattress. He dragged it to the window and heaved it up, folding it in half and shoving - but it was no use, it just wouldn't go. Incensed, he yanked it back in and pounced in attack, raking his nails down its length, shredding it to the bare coils. He continued to grate his hands over the mattress when there was nothing but the wire frame left, metal slashing through the skin on his hands.

Finally he sat back in the middle of Riley's room. After a moment, he put his head in his bloody hands. His body shook silently.

+++

Riley hadn't had a plan when he'd left. He'd been relieved to notice that Spike was gone when he went down the stairs, so he just had to worry about himself. He tore a strip from his shirt as a makeshift bandage for his hand and started wandering. With his mind on other things, he'd ended up back at the hotel he'd been staying in when he'd first come to L.A.

Not long after he checked in, just as he finished stitching and dressing his wound, there was a knock on his door.

"It's me, Riley," came the familiar cockney voice. Riley opened the door and was appalled at the shocking state of Spike's face.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside.

"I followed you here," Spike said as he entered, although Riley had not asked for any explanation. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. I didn't know what Angelus did to you back there." He looked closely at the boy.

Riley sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That wasn't Angelus; it was Angel really angry."

"Don't kid yourself," Spike said simply.

Riley didn't reply at first. Then he asked quietly, "If that had really been Angelus, do you think either one of us would be alive right now?"

Spike looked at Riley. Christ, the boy had it bad! He let go of the argument and instead offered, "You can come with me, Riley."

"Why should I go with you?" Riley questioned. "You've tried to ruin my life twice now. How can I believe you, when everything you've said has been a lie?"

"Not everything," Spike said, softening his voice.

"No, you're right: it's been worse than that." Riley turned his back and walked to look out the window. "Everything you've said, everything you've done has been meant to hurt me."

Spike knew he was treading on shaky ground, and would have to step lightly. "Not to hurt you, Riley. To make you see yourself and what's around you." He crossed to Riley but didn't touch him as he continued, "To open your eyes to certain possibilities in this world."

Riley sighed deeply. He looked out the window for another moment before turning to Spike. "Is this the part where I say, 'You're not my father! I'll never join you!'?"

"No." Although it was painful with his injuries, Spike smiled slightly in recognition of the reference. But this was a serious matter and he chose not to reply in flippancy; sincerity was required: "I know you'll do what's right for you."

It was a couple of seconds before Riley said, "You should go now, Spike."

"I know," Spike said. "And I won't bother you again. But you should know that you can always call on me." Before he left, he reached for the pen and notepad on the nightstand to scribble down a number.

+++

>I'd like to watch you sleep at night
>To hear you breathe by my side
>My hands feel empty, no one to hold
>It's not the same with you gone

When there was a knock at his door a couple of hours later, Riley hoped against hope that it would be Angel. But when he opened the door and his stomach turned over at the sight of that beautiful, deceptively human face, he thought he should be careful what he wished for.

"May I come in?" Angel asked politely.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Riley replied. "Right now I don't know who you are." He shut the door in Angel's face.

"Please, Riley." Angel stood on the other side of the door, palm resting on it. "It's Angel."

~I know you're Angel,~ Riley thought, his heart breaking as he sat against the door. ~But right now I don't know you.~

"It's not. I'm not Angelus," Angel continued reassuringly, still misunderstanding. "I promise I won't hurt you." There was no movement within. "I need to speak with you, Riley. I'll stay here as long as it takes. I'll be outside your door when the sun comes up. And when it goes down again. As many times as necessary. I just want to talk."

After awhile Angel sat down against the wall to wait. He estimated it was nearly forty minutes before the door finally opened. He got up immediately. Riley just stood there without looking at him. Angel flinched when he saw, faded but still visible, the red mark of where he'd pressed against Riley's throat. Anything to kiss that mark, to heal it. He could see Riley's pulse beneath the mark on his throat, that throat temptation incarnate... his fingers reached for Riley, but the boy was too far inside the door and so Angel ran his hands through his own hair instead.

"I'm sorry, Riley," he said.

"I know you are," the boy replied, something indeterminate beneath his neutral tone.

The tremors in Riley's voice and body probably would have gone undetected by human sensory perception, they were that slight. But Angel noticed them and knew they meant he hadn't lost Riley completely yet. He waited for his invitation. When it didn't come, he asked quietly, "May I come in?"

"No," Riley replied. "But you can talk."

"I don't know what to do, Riley. This is all so hard for me-"

"You think this is easy for me?" Riley interrupted, his face still turned down. "You think it's easy realizing that I'm." He stopped, a self-deprecating smile as he tilted his head to the side. "Well, that I'm not strictly heterosexual?"

Angel was caught off-guard completely. "That's not what I'm talking about."

Riley himself didn't know where that outburst had come from, and wondered how much more he was suppressing. He sighed. "What are you talking about, then?"

Angel paused, uncertain of how to proceed. "I have some things to tell you. I think you may be in over your head with Spike. I think there's someone else behind all this."

Riley felt sick at the way Angel was talking. Not a trace of emotion. For the first time, he could believe in a soulless version of Angel. He tried to roll away his despair as he nodded and said, "Darla," to indicate he was following the conversation though he still refused to look at Angel.

Angel swallowed his surprise. "So you know about Darla? You know who she is?"

"Spike told me."

Angel's heart sank. Maybe he had lost Riley, after all. "Are you in love with him?" he heard himself ask.

"I'm in love with *you*," Riley replied, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"But you want him." Angel felt defeated as Riley paused.

"I want, some of what he offers me."

The silence that followed Riley's admission grew as Angel marshaled himself. "Riley, I can't stop you if that's what you want. The decision to turn is up to you."

"Is that what you came here to tell me?"

Angel couldn't read Riley's voice. "I can't give you what you want, Riley," he said quietly.

"Do you even know what I want?" The bitterness was unmistakable. Angel couldn't answer. For the first time, Riley looked at him. "What do *you* want, Angel?"

When Riley raised his eyes to Angel's, what Angel saw there was enough to bring him to his knees. Concern mixed with the compassion, confusion, longing, pain and love in Riley's eyes as he knelt down to be level with Angel.

"When it comes to you, Riley Finn," Angel said unsteadily, "my reach far exceeds my grasp."

Riley rested his fingers on Angel's cheek and said gently, "It doesn't have to."

"Oh, Riley-" Overcome, Angel got up, Riley rising with him. "I'm sorry." Choked, he turned away and quickly left.

+++

After Angel's visit, Riley's mind was racing so fast he couldn't think properly. He tried unsuccessfully to distract himself with the t.v. for a little while. Then he picked up the phone and his fingers dialed almost automatically. If anyone could help him figure out Angel/Angelus, it was the woman who knew them both best.

She answered on the second ring, alert despite the wee morning hour, fully prepared for any emergency. "Hello?" Actually hearing her voice, suddenly he couldn't speak. "Hello?" she said again. There was a slight pause before she whispered, "Riley?"

He hung up immediately.

+++

Angel started when the phone rang; he couldn't imagine how he'd missed pulling out the phone wires earlier. Unless Darla was calling to gloat, it could only be Riley. He scrambled to answer it.

"Hey, it's me," Buffy said. "May I speak with Riley?"

Surprised, Angel replied, "He's not here."

"Do you know where he is?" she asked. "He called me..."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, he hung up." He heard worry creeping into her voice. "Angel, what's going on?"

Angel badly wanted to tell her, but he didn't know how, let alone where to start.

After a long moment, Buffy said, "Look, if. If you and Riley are... Willow seems to think...." She paused again and drew a deep breath. "OK, I still care about you. Both of you. If the two of you are, together now - I can handle that. But make no mistake, Angel, if you hurt him, if you are the cause of his harm in any way - I *will* come for you. In Slayer mode. Are we clear?"

Instead of answering directly, Angel decided to confide in her. "How much do you know about what's been going on with Riley?" he asked.

"I know about the bites," Buffy said in a calm tone that revealed only hours on end of trying to come to terms with it.

"Spike?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's the one who showed me."

Angel was momentarily caught off guard. "No," he said, recovering, "Spike and Riley - have, a thing..."

"What?!" Angel could feel her alarm and confusion through the phone wires. "Okay," she said, taking charge of her senses and the situation, "I'll call Giles right now. Willow and Tara would be good for this, too. We can be there-"

"No, Buffy," Angel interrupted, "let me handle this."

Buffy neither protested nor agreed immediately. "Okay," she finally said. There was another pause before she said, "Angel"?

"Yeah?"

"You are *Angel*, aren't you?" she asked tentatively.

"I'll call you if I need help, Buffy," was his only reply.

But as he started to put down the receiver, her voice called him back insistently: "Angel!" He put the receiver to his ear but didn't speak. "Angel, I know you're there." There was a pause. "I know you hear me, and I hope you understand: I know *you* are there, Angel." There was nothing more for either of them to say, and so he hung up.

+++

/Can't stay still forever
/Got to get it together
/If you'd seen with these eyes
/And lived with these lies

Riley sat looking at the phone. He didn't know why he couldn't talk to Buffy, when she was the only one he thought he *could* talk to, the only voice he wanted to hear. Well, besides Angel, of course. He thought about what Angel had said to him. And he thought about Buffy. No wonder those two were drawn to each other: they had so much in common. They couldn't let anyone in. And he must somehow attract it - or be attracted to it, to those who couldn't love him. Not because he was unlovable, but because they were incapable of real love.

But he knew that wasn't true - Buffy was one of the most loving people he knew. She just couldn't love Riley the way he needed her to. And Angel...

Riley became overwhelmed as he thought of Angel. All the tears he couldn't shed for weeks, maybe months, gathered at the base of his throat the way they had sometimes before - but this time instead of threatening, they broke through. Tears welled in his eyes, trickled down his face, the first ones tracing along his nose, falling warm and salty to his lips. And then they were a flood he couldn't hold back, flowing in a torrent down his face, soaking his arms and the pillow he held. His chest heaving, his body wracked with sobs, he couldn't stop, it was all too much to hold in any longer and he cried until he thought he going to puke, coughing and dry heaving, but the tears kept coming and coming....

Even when the tears stopped, Riley couldn't stop shaking. He shuffled to the bathroom, hoping that a long shower would soothe his nerves. Under the hot water, he tried to organize his jumbled mind and everything that had happened in the past several weeks. All he could see at first was that everyone had been right, and everyone had been wrong. Including himself. "Right" and "wrong" didn't mean much to him anymore, so what he needed to do was figure out what was really important. He thought about everything Angel had said, and everything he hadn't. Or couldn't, if that was a worthy distinction. He thought about everything Spike had said, and how much Spike had to gain by lying to him. But the more he thought about Spike, the more he realized that not everything out of the vampire's mouth had been deceptive. In fact, Spike had said the one thing that might lead him out of the darkness he'd fallen into most recently: maybe it wasn't, as he'd believed, all about what Angel wanted. Maybe it was, as Spike suggested, all about what *he*, Riley Finn, wanted.

As he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, he wasn't sure if he knew anymore what he wanted. He toweled off and went back to his bed, thinking about what everyone could, and was willing, to offer him - not just Angel, not just Spike and Darla, but Sunnydale, the U.S. government, even Huxley. And beyond that, what the world could offer him. What he could offer himself. Lying on his back under the covers, Riley tried on path after path in his mind. Some didn't fit at all, others were a rough fit; and then there was one that clung in all the right places and was loose where he wanted it to be. Keeping that one on his mind, he turned onto his side and drifted off to sleep.

He slumbered soundly until late afternoon. When he awoke, he went to get a hearty meal at the diner across the street. Then he returned to his room to make the call.

*****