Soundtrack. The new CD by Estopa (Spanish flamenco rumbas). Key songs: '�l de medio de los Chichos' ("he appeared to me in a dream/ and he told me / that in another life / I was a stray dog"), 'Exiliado en el lavabo' ("your girlfriend's left you ... I think I'm the only one still on your side."), "Me falta el aliento" ("I feel like sperm waiting in a test tube / frozen but alive.") and especially 'Sodomizarte' ("butt-fucking you so electrifyingly / that it even turns on my car's headlights."), and finally 'la raja de tu falda' ("I can't remember her eyes / or even what she looks like").
Dedication: Lord Chak Reigns!

*****
Prologue.

Fireside. Southeastern Yucatan Peninsula (in what will some day be Belize)
Date: 8 Cloud, 2 Turtle [that is, the 19th day of the 5th month of the 11th year in the 18th 20-year 'decade' of the 9th 400-year-'century' since the fourth creation of the world.]
(9 December, 801)

The boys gathered around the fire after having wolfed down their supper of banana-leaf wrapped tamales. The corn fields had been weeded, water had been carried from the cenote, dried corn had been ground into flour after being slaked with lime, and then mixed with fat and made into the life-giving tamales or mixed with water and patted into tortillas to be cooked on the pans over the open fire. The rhythms of village life continued as they had for generations, and would for generations to come.

Soon the great celebrations would take place at the pyramid, and the king would make the sacrifice of his own blood to Chak, Lord of Rain, ensuring that the rains would return. Since rain was the blood of Lord Chak, the blood of the ruler was required if his realm was to receive the life-giving rains.

Blood for blood. It was the way of the universe.

In the meantime, life was good. The last corn harvest had been plentiful, and the new crop was growing high in the milpas. There was enough to eat for all in the village. The hunting in the jungle had been good as well. The gods were clearly pleased with the sacrifices that the villagers had made. The village elder was pleased with the village, with the villagers, with the harvest, and with the hunting. All was well.

He looked around at the boys, and grinned. "What story would you hear tonight?"

"The ball game against the Lords of Death." One boy suggested.

"No," one of the younger boys countered, "The jaguar and the coyote!"

One of the older boys looked across the fire into the eyes of another boy, and said significantly, "The story of the Hero Twins". The elder smiled as he saw the other boy look down, clearly embarrassed, but not displeased. A good story, thought the elder, and probably appropriate for something that was going on. The village elder began:

"I am going to tell you the story of Xbalanke and Hunahpu, and how they were monkeys and then became men. And how together they outwitted and defeated the blood-hungry Lords of Death, and saved the world for the real people. And how they stayed together and became as one, closer than even the closest of brothers, and thus came to be called 'the Hero Twins' ..."

The village elder winked at the older boy who had requested this story, who had the decency to blush. The village elder leaned forward, making eye contact with each of the boys in turn as he told the story, the history.

"There were two monkeys, named Xbalanke and Hunahpu, who lived happily in the tops of the forest trees, playing together and eating only the best fruits of the trees. What they did not know was that they were really children of the first ones, who had been turned into monkeys by those who were jealous of their great strength and beauty. But when the Lords of Death threatened to take all the blood of the real people, a great shaman arose who knew that only Xbalanke and Hunahpu could defeat the Lords of Death ... "

*****
Part 1: Chopper

Sunnydale, California
Date: 3 Snake, 8 Mak [that is, the 5th day of the 14th month of the 7th year in the 19th 20-year 'decade' of the 12th 400-year 'century' since the fourth creation of the world.]
(9 December, 2000)

I was sitting there in the chopper, watching him standing on the pad, watching for her. Knowing that if she showed up, he'd be back with her in a sec, without even a wave to us, to me. I could see it in my mind's eye: The two of them embracing tightly, lost in their own little world, as the chopper took off. Because that would have been it. No more chances to come back in, to come back home. If he missed this chopper, he'd stay in Sunnydale -- and he'd be dead before spring. I knew the signs. Dude was killing himself slowly, when he wasn't trying to kill himself fast.

Next time I'd have seen him would have been at his funeral.

He didn't have to tell me about what it was like to love somebody who didn't love you. And that it didn't matter, you'd still be willing to throw it all away for'em. Knew that one.

Knew that one real well. Because my ass was on the line over bringing Riley back in. The Colonel had made that abundantly clear . He hadn't been convinced at all. He'd taken a look at the Initiative files on Riley. And he wasn't impressed that the guy had gone renegade with the slayer and the slayerettes. Even less impressed when he saw the bruise on my face that Riley had given me when I had been sent with the two junior G-man to get him to the doc. The Colonel had him pegged as a rogue agent and a trouble-maker who didn't know what was good for him. My responsibility, the Colonel had said. He meant my ass.

I had to agree that maybe Riley didn't always know what was good for him, even if I wasn't gonna tell the Colonel that.

And OK, silence from him in the chopper, cause there was really no way of actually having a conversation in one of those. Sometimes the worst thing about being in a chopper is that you were pretty much left alone with your own thoughts.

I looked over at the boy, he was staring straight ahead. The perfect picture of stoicism. I let out a bit of a sigh. Safe, because nobody could hear me, and nobody was looking at me.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't look at him. It hurt too much.

It had been hurting since that day when I had testified on his behalf at the hearing after the battle with Adam, telling the panel of senior officers how renegade agent Riley Finn had pretty much saved the day. That had earned me a hand shake from him, a 'thanks, buddy' and a brief hug, before he headed back to Sunnydale and his slayer girlfriend.

I could still remember watching him walk off, down the corridor of the base HQ, walking out of the Service, walking out on the mission, walking out of my life. I'm not gonna lie and say that I went back to my place and cried. I'm also not gonna say that part of me didn't want to do just that. Instead, I did what I usually did when life got a little rough.

I went to one of the bars, and stood there leaning against the bar, bottle in hand, scoping out the action. It was late, and it had taken seven or eight beers before I identified my target for the evening and had begun to so what I knew how to do best: identify, track, capture, and subdue the target. And I had him identified. Standing next to the far wall of the bar. He was a pretty hot guy, tall, short blond hair, looking like he was well built in his white T-shirt and jeans, playing up the all-American boy look to the max, giving everyone else in the bar major attitude.

I kept a stone face as I checked him out. But inwardly I was smirking. Because I knew I was gonna wipe that self-satisfied smile of that guy's face before the evening was over. And he was gonna thank me for it.

I hooked one thumb in the front pocket of my jeans, pressing my hand flat against the fabric, next to the bulge, and took a swig, staring straight at him. You wanna track something, sometimes it's best to show him some bait, and let him come to you. He'd been kinda checking me out for the last half hour. I was gonna give him a chance to make it easy on himself. He took it. He met my gaze, and gave me this friendly nod. I continued to stare him down, stone faced. I watched as his eyes went down to my hand. He paused, then looked back up at my face.

He nodded. Capture imminent. I took another swig of beer. He slowly made his way over through the crowded bar. From the way he almost stumbled a couple of times, he had had a few already. Perfect. Made my job easier. He never took his eyes off of me. He came up and stood inches from me.

"Hey." He gave me a smile that I'm sure worked on most guys. "I'm Derek."

I nodded and then looked him up and down. He was no Riley, but he'd do for the next hour or so anyway. I reached over and ran my hand along his shoulder, moving towards his neck. I wrapped my hand round the back of his neck, and rubbed his throat with my thumb. I met his eyes, staring him down. He blinked first.

I gave him the look, eyes piercing, jaw set, mouth curved into just the slightest hint of a smile, and said in a low even voice, "I think you need to get the shit fucked out of you, Derek."

He eyes went wide as he swallowed hard. He nodded slowly. Capture completed. I let go of him and chugged the rest of my beer. I put the empty bottle on the bar and headed out the door, not even bothering to look at him, knowing he was gonna be right behind me.

I fucked him face down in his bed, fucked him hard, and worked real hard at not crying out 'Ri!' as I came deep inside him. I pulled out and tossed the used condom in the trash can, and started to get dressed. He rolled over and jerked off frantically watching me. I got dressed slowly enough for him to bring himself off before I left. I decided I'd give him that much. He had been a pretty good lay.

I gave him a nod, "Later, Derek," and headed out the door.

I ignored his pleas for me to come back for a minute. I wasn't in the mood for any snuggling that night. Not with him, any way.

The chopper turned. I looked over at Riley. Still eyes front. Ignoring me, ignoring the world. I resisted the urge to put a comforting hand on his knee. I had no reason to expect him to be grateful to me, not given his reaction the last time I had tried to save him.

That hadn't worked out all that well. OK, we saved his life, which I guess is what mattered. It was just that I had been carrying around this idea in my head about what was gonna happen when I showed up in Sunnydale. A Riley-Finn style grin, a hug from the boy, him asking me how I was doing. Him being grateful that I had brought the doc. Me there at his bedside when he came out of it after the operation, and grinning up at me, telling me thanks for being there and all.

I sat there in the park watching him play pick-up b-ball. Leaning back on the bench and just watching him, drinking him in, the way he moved, how he just outplayed the other guys there, dominating the court. Going up for a jump shot like he was born to it. He was just fucking beautiful.

Then he saw me. And his face went stone cold. He walked off the court, tossing the ball away, walking right past me, throwing me a dismissive "Graham." as he walked past.

Not the reunion I had been expecting. And OK, it pissed me off. I had always been there for him, not just at the hearing, but before that, on his side, backing him up when Forrest laid into him about Buffy. Man, I had worked hard at being a friend to him, if that was all he wanted from me. I hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of attitude. I went after him and laid it out, trying to keep my temper in check. He had to get to the doc. Then he lashed out, looking me straight in the eye about how he wasn't gonna let me get him naked and helpless.

Like he knew exactly what I'd been fantasizing about, dreaming about since the first time I met him when I joined the Initiative. I was shocked, and yeah, maybe a little taken aback.

I tried to cover, but maybe my anger got the better of me. Telling him he had to get to the doc, now. And that I'd drag him there if I had to.

OK, I can take care of myself. I've been in more firefights and bar fights than most guys, more than most Marines. And I've been sucker punched exactly once in my life: by Riley Finn. I gotta figure that it was because he had just accused me of trying to do something that I had been dreaming about doing. I felt busted.

*****

And then I had to take all that crap from Buffy, who had turned into attitude girl. She called me in, I came to try to save her boyfriend, my best friend, and he decked me out of the blue, and all she could do is threaten to kick my ass. Fucking bitch. Like I need this crap. I put up with it, because I figured I was gonna need her help to find Riley. But count me out of the Buffy fan club.

Then I found out that Buffy had actually fucking gone to hostile-17 and fucking told him about Riley and the doc, and then the stupid cunt had the gall to be *surprised* when the vampire and his hell-fiend girlfriend kidnapped the doc. Maybe somebody needed to explain to her about vampires. Maybe slayer-strength saps the blood from your brain or something. Or maybe fucking vampires changed your point of view on just who the good guys were.

Buffy had fucking told the vampires where the doc and I were, and I ended up getting the shit knocked out of me, the doc got kidnapped and almost killed, and she still managed to paint it in her warped little mind that this whole thing was somehow my fault.

Let's recap: She asked for help, so I came to save the boy's life. Her response was to threaten to kick *my* ass, and then she told a couple of vampires where me and the one person who could save Riley's life were. Impressive? Thinking not.

With friends like her, you sure as hell didn't need enemies.

OK, thank God, it worked out in the end, and he got to the doc in time. And OK, maybe I needed to cut her some slack, because maybe she was just freaked out about Riley and maybe she did care for him. But I wasn't seeing a lot of love for Riley from her, just a lot of anger and a lot of being, dunno, all getting her nose out of joint that she was having waste her precious time dealing with this. Dealing with him.

I saw the other side. It was dead clear that Riley loved her. Completely, unconditionally, all that crap. But her! Damn. I was standing there, jaw dropping, as I watched her just walk out on him, and go back to her life. Dude had almost died and she couldn't wait to bail on him. Nice, real nice.

And OK, maybe I was kinda harsh with Riley afterwards. But I could see he wasn't gonna survive here. That girl was gonna get him killed. If he didn't do it to himself first.

All the way back to the base, I was just pissed off, and getting more pissed off, thinking that, OK, if that's what he wanted, let him have it. The time had come to write him off as a lost cause. He wanted to stay with her and end up dead, it was his choice. I'd done what I could. And gotten knocked out not once, but twice, for my efforts. My masochistic tendencies weren't so developed as to want any more of that shit.

I stopped by the club at the base and tossed down a couple of stiff ones. I almost bit Bauer's head off when he snickered at the bruise on my jaw, and asked where I'd gotten it. I caught myself, apologized and bought him a drink. He accepted and didn't push it when I didn't want to talk about it. "Just a rough day, OK?"

He nodded "OK, Miller." He raised his glass and gave me a friendly smile, "To better days." I clinked glasses and downed the shot.

He looked at me, "You need some sleep, man."

I nodded.

"Come on, let's get out of here." I let him lead me out and back to quarters.

I fell into bed, and tossed and turned for a bit before falling asleep. I had the dream for the first time that night. The dream where Forrest came to my bedroom and stood at the foot of my bed and just talked to me. About Riley, about me. And I knew I couldn't let it go. Couldn't let him go.

I woke up in a cold sweat that night. As I sat in the chopper, remembering it, I felt the same cold sweat. I looked down, and recognized the terrain. We were approaching the airbase. The transport would be loaded and ready. I followed Riley out of the chopper and nodded to the plane.

"Let's get it done."

He nodded and followed me. He was back in mission mode. It was good to see that. Probably the only mode he could operate in right now, because you don't have to think a lot when you're in mission mode.

We took our seats on the transport. Seats against the side of the plane. No windows to look out of. Nothing to look at but the guys seated on the side of the plane opposite you. Strap yourself in, hear the engines crank up, feel the plane start to lumber down the runway and suddenly break free and take off and turn and head south.

South to Belize, south to Belmopan.

I look over at the guy, and he was staring straight ahead, eyes focussed sharply on some random point of the far side of the plane, jaw set, muscles working tight. I kind of figured how to close to tears the big guy was. I glanced over at the Colonel, who, as I feared, had noticed Riley's condition.

I put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a bit of a squeeze.

"Good to have you back, Riley."

There was a hesitation, then he looked over and nodded, and tried to give me a comradely smile. He failed.

"It'll be OK, man."

He nodded, because it was the right response, not because he believed it.

*****
Part 2: Texas Dawn

We had a refueling stop at Lackland AFB near San Antonio. It was 0600 local time. Still pre-dawn. Most of the guys were sacked out. Riley was still up, still staring.

I unstrapped, and gave him a friendly slap to the shoulder, "Come on, let's get some air."

That hesitation, and then he nodded and stood up, and followed me out of the plane onto the tarmac.

He stared into the eastern sky, which was just beginning the glow light red, arms hanging loose at his side.

"You gonna be OK?"

Safe question, because it had to do with the mission.

He nodded, and then spoke for the first time, "Yeah. I'll be OK, Graham. I'll be good to go."

He broke his gaze from the glowing sky, and looked at me. "I fucked it up. Bad."

He was fighting back tears, barely holding it together.

I saw the Colonel watching us. Shit. I couldn't let the Colonel see him fall apart. The Colonel was no-nonsense when it came to a mission. He'd boot Riley off the plane and leave him here in Texas if he didn't keep his shit together. OK, from the Colonel's point of view, maybe he was right, Riley shouldn't be here like this. But I knew, I *knew*, that he needed to be here, and that I needed him to be here. With us. With me. I studied his face. Dude was wearing a fierce mask.

I glanced back at the Colonel, who was talking to some Air Force guy, but looking in our direction out of the corner of his eye.

"Sir!" I call over to him.

"What is it, Miller?"

"We got time for a cup of coffee, sir?"

He glanced at his watch and nodded. "You got maybe twenty minutes."

"Yes sir." I turned back to Riley, and put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on."

He nodded and let me lead him to the terminal. We walked in and nodded at the Air Force guys, who like all good Air Force guys, totally ignored the two Marines. I nodded inquiringly at the coffee urn to a sergeant who was standing around, he said "Help yourself." and turned his back on us, which was fine with me.

I handed Riley a styrofoam cup and then poured myself a cup, and waited for him to do the same. We walked over to a table in corner and sat across from each other. I took a sip and watched his face. He took a sip and grimaced, "The coffee hasn't gotten any better."

I was glad for that taste of the old Riley. "Nope," I replied with a grin and took another sip myself.

"You gonna be OK for this mission? My ass is kinda on the line here."

He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time that night. "Yeah, I'll keep it together. I'll be good."

"You'll let me know if ... ya know..."

Another of those damned hesitations, then the nod.

I nodded back. Good enough.

I stared at the cup of coffee. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

I had to look up to see if he was nodding. He wasn't. He met my eyes.

"Yeah, I know." He took another sip. He sighed. He stared down at the table, unable to meet my eyes. "I really fucked it up." He repeated. I nodded for him to continue. I needed to hear this, and more to the point, I needed him to say it, he needed to say it.

"Look, Graham, I just always kind of thought that if I found the right woman, I could ... you know, make it work."

I nodded, pretending to understand where he was heading.

His eyes pierced mine. "I found her, and I couldn't make it work. I mean, she was perfect. Beautiful, strong, smart. Her own person. Everything I thought I always wanted."

"But ...?"

"It wasn't enough. No matter what I did, no matter what I said. It didn't work. She never bought it. Never bought me."

"I kinda thought you two ... " I gave him a macho buddy grin.

He shrugged. "Yeah, teenager fantasy time on the sack front, Gray. When she was up for it, it was amazing. But the rest of the time she was always half-there, ya know."

"And you?"

He sighed. "Maybe she was half there cause I was half there. I couldn't take it, Gray, I just couldn't take it."

I nodded. Without thinking, I reached across and put a hand on his shoulder, near his neck, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. His eyes met mine for just a second like he understood.

Then they flicked back to the cup of coffee in front of him. I let my hand fall away, slowly, reluctantly.

"You know, I'm sorry about that time in the park ..."

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't you."

"I was just so fucked up, Graham. Totally fucked up. I thought I could make it work with her. I needed it to work with her."

"Hey, Ri. Come on. Yeah, it didn't work out. It's not the end of the world. I know it feels like it, but it's not."

He looked at me, like I didn't understand jackshit. Maybe I didn't. Never had a relationship thing, so I never fucked one up.

"She was the one, Gray. She was the one."

He was on the verge of totally losing it. I gave him my best good buddy smile and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, doing it a little roughly, so he'd know I didn't think he was a wuss.

"Fuck, I am just so pathetic."

I nodded solemnly.

"Ya could argue with me a little!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." I let myself smile at him.

I nodded at the scars on his arm. "You still been fighting the HSTs, though."

He looked at the arm, and quickly turned it over so the scars weren't visible. I dropped the subject.

"So what happened? She seeing somebody else?"

He shook his head. "I started ... Listen, can we not talk about this. I fucked up, big time. I had my shot at ... at her, and I just fucking blew it, OK? Can we leave it at that?" His eyes were begging me.

I nodded.

More than anything else, I wanted to hold him right now, hold him tight and tell him to cry, to get it out. That wasn't gonna happen. Unless maybe we got drunk enough. And I knew that one real well. Get the guy drunk, and watch it all pour out. I was pretty much the expert at getting guys drunk. Pretty much had to be, given that it was the centre of my social life.

Like that joke the guy in San Diego told me after we had shared an intimate yet anonymous drunken moment in the bathroom of some sleazy bar: "What's the difference between a straight marine and a gay marine?"

I knew the answer to that one: "A bottle of tequila."

Maybe it might be nice to have sex with someone who wasn't falling-over drunk. I kept telling myself I'd try that some day.

I looked up at the guy I wanted to try it with. I swallowed hard. I was pretty sure I could get him. It might take two bottles of tequila with good old agent Finn, but I knew I could get a leg over. It almost always seemed to work, it just took enough alcohol and persistence, and whispering the right stuff in the guy's ear.

Course, it was fun when the other guy turned out to be playing the same game, too.

But my whole romantic life seemed to involve that kind, well ya know, kinda the whole "Who let the dogs out" thing. Fun for a while, definitely fun while it was happening. But the next morning, it was just dirty sheets and a hangover in some dingy cheap motel, and a guy who couldn't even look you in the face, if he hadn't skipped out before you woke up.

I looked over at Riley, and yeah, I wanted to get the boy drunk and get down and dirty with him. Not like I hadn't planned it all out any number of times in my head. The lines I'd use that I thought would work on Riley, what I figure he'd be willing to try, and how I could lead him to what I wanted to try. I had it all pretty much figured out.

It would probably destroy him though.

Shit. I wanted to do it anyway. Put two drinks in me, and I know I'd fucking go for it. Play on him owing me for bringing the doc for him, for testifying for him at the Court Martial, get a little payback for that right cross when I had only come to Sunnydale to save his life.

I looked over at him, sitting there looking totally defeated and ... vulnerable. I sighed. I knew what that kind of vulnerability can mean: it meant that it would be all the easier to make him think he needed me, if only for the night. I'd seen it before, I'd used it before.

I shoulda been ashamed of myself for even thinking all this. OK, maybe I was. Didn't mean I wouldn't try it, though. Because I don't think I've ever wanted a guy as much as I wanted him. I was rock hard just thinking about it. Thinking about having him beneath me, writhing as I pounded into him, barely able to get out even a few pathetic moans.

Because all I knew is that I was ready to do anything to get this guy. It was like I had this need to be with him. He was creeping into all my fantasies, my daydreams, and even my thoughts, even when I was doing it with some other guy, wondering whether it would feel different, be different doing it with him.

Maybe that was obsession, or maybe that was just being horny and seeing a hot guy right next to you, or maybe that was love.

*****
Part 3: South

Flying south from San Antonio, Riley fell asleep, and I managed to grab some shut-eye.

I started to dream about Riley, about me and Riley, and that dream got interrupted. Again. By the same damned nightmare.

Forrest.

The real Forrest, the way he used to be before Adam got a hold of him and turned him into whatever the fuck kind of monster they turned him into.

I woke up in a panic, breathing hard.

Damn!

I thought that nightmare was gonna be over with, now that Riley was back inside, back on the team, back where he belonged.

But it was the same damned dream. Forrest just standing there, telling me with a sad smile that he was all right now. That he barely remembered the bad stuff, that his memories were all of the good times, the three of us hanging out, shooting the shit, and being there for each other. Telling me I was a good guy, when I was ...

But that part about me having a soul of ice, and being a stray dog ... that hurt, man. That hurt.

Forrest was telling me that I had to take care of Riley. Like it was my duty or something. The Forrest in the dream, I mean. Which I guess it was. You didn't go through what we had gone through together without owing something... And you didn't feel what I felt for him without wanting to do something, do anything. Fuck! Like Riley cared, like he even fucking noticed... Slayer dropped a book on his head, and he was gone. She was the only person in the universe.

Forrest had me sussed out a long time ago. He had caught the looks I had been giving Riley, and then I caught his smirks. But I worked at being a friend to Riley. I saw how he looked at Buffy, saw how he felt about her. It would have been tons easier to hate her, try to break them apart. But Riley looked so damned happy with her, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Besides, trying to boff your squad leader wasn't usually a good career move.

I knew from the slightly sly grin on the dream-Forrest's face that he wanted to tell me 'I told ya so' about Buffy and Riley. He had said from the beginning that she was gonna fuck up his life. And OK, he had been right. Riley had hooked up with the slayer and within months he went from being the finest Marine I'd ever known, the toughest guy I'd ever met, into being a total basket case.

And OK, Buffy was amazing in action. You had to be impressed. I'd totally want her on my side in a fight in a dark alley. But what kind of whack-job was a girl who used to have a fucking vampire for a boyfriend?

OK, maybe I didn't have any room to be too judgmental about who somebody fell for...

================================

OK, as far as towns go, Belmopan wasn't much. Capital of a country, right? More like a bunch of buildings in the middle of tropical nowhere. Not that it mattered, we didn�t see much of it. They marched us off the transport and into a truck and we hightailed it west out of town along a road. OK, what passed for a road, more like a dirt track, barely wide enough for the truck. Didn't get to see much because they kept the back of the truck closed, so as not to arouse suspicion among the locals of an American invasion or something.

We were joined by the local liaison guy, some guy from the Belize national police. Don't know why, but I sort of thought that Belize being in Central America the guy would be some Latin guy named 'Jose' or something. But this guy was seriously Black, and talked like he came straight from Jamaica or one of those islands. "Belize used to be British Honduras, mon. British colony," he said with this laugh when I asked him about it.

He gave us a briefing while we were being jolted around The truck must have made a good 20 miles an hour over the road.

One of the guys made some comment about taking the bad road, and the Belizan guy just laughed and said we were lucky we weren't here during rainy season, when it was really slow going.

Kinda had Belize figured out for one of those places that had two speeds: slow and stop.

The Belizan cop started the briefing as we jolted through along the rutted road. "What we got is some trouble in the West, near the border. We been getting these reports from the villages that missionaries been disappearin'. We send a constable in, and don't hear from him again. Only real story we get is from this Mayan village. Seems like there is a tribe of some kind of demon creature takin' over the area. Can't tell you much more than that, except the activity seems to be centered in this area." He pointed to a spot on the map where there was three points in a triangle. Didn't know that symbol from my map-reading course.

"What's that place?"

"Mayan ruins. Thousand years ago it was the center for the whole region, now it's a bunch of old temples overgrown with jungle."

"How about the local villagers?"

"They're not sayin' much. Some mumbo-jumbo about Xibalba, the underworld, and how it's turning over and covering the land, and a cenote that they're saying is the portal between the underworld and this world. Seems like somebody opened up the portal."

"Cenote?" the Colonel asked.

"Yeah. The whole area is covered with 'em. Giant sinkholes in the limestone, filled with water. In the old days, the Maya used to throw their sacrifices down 'em, appease the gods or demons or whatever."

I looked over at the map, and found Belmopan and the road we were on. It didn't come close to where we were supposed to be headed. It sort of dead-ended at a river.

"We move in by boat?" I asked.

"Only way in."

I nodded. I glanced over at Riley. He wasn't paying us any attention. He was cradling his weapon like it was his only friend, and staring straight ahead at the canvas covering of the truck.

We reached the river and pulled the two inflatable rafts off the roof, and launched them, just like in training. In less than a minute, they had gotten the outboards going and we were headed upstream. Into some kind of dark green wilderness, complete with the requisite stinging insects and snakes swimming across the water. One of the guys sort of reached out at a snake as we went by and got a sharp "Careful, mon!" from the Belizan cop. "He bite you, you dead within a minute."

The guy yanked his hand back in-board real fast, and then looked to see if the constable was pulling his chain. He wasn't.

It seemed like we were on that river forever. Trees overhead, the sounds of these chattering black monkeys everywhere, all kinds of birds and crap. Perfect place for that eco-tourism stuff, if it weren't for that pesky demon infestation.

Riley was sitting beside me, almost motionless. I could tell from the way he never let go of his weapon that he was itching to use it. I was hoping that he was just ready to get back into action, get back on the team.

Last thing I needed, we needed, was for somebody to be going all Rambo on us.

Finally after about three hours, the Belizan cop pointed to a clearing on the river bank and we pulled over and pulled the inflatables out of the water. The Colonel called for chow, and we pulled out the MREs and dug in. The Colonel discussed the sitch with the constable and then called me and Bauer over.

"Two squads. You two take point. Bauer and I'll take the right flank, Miller'll take the left. The Mayan ruins are about half a click in. We move out in ten. Keep your eyes open."

"Yes, sir," Bauer and me both said.

I got my squad together. "Come on, Finn." He looked at me for a second, like he couldn't quite grasp that he wasn't leading this time. He swallowed once and nodded, grabbed his weapon and stood up.

I looked at him, "This gonna be a problem, Ri?"

He shook his head.

"OK, guys. This is a simple clean and sweep. We move in on this Mayan ruin place. We track the HSTs, we find the HSTs, we kill the HSTs. There may be villagers or the missionaries around. Stay alert. I want minimum collateral damage. Any questions?"

There were no questions.

OK, maybe this old Mayan city was only half a click in, but the jungle was so thick that ten meters in, you couldn't even tell that there was a river back there. I headed down the jungle path, eyes darting left and right, ears listening for anything out of the ordinary, the sound of someone's -- or something's -- footfall. Full alert mode.

*****
Part 4: Out of the Forest

Suddenly we were at the edge of a clearing in the jungle, and there it was, rising out of the flat terrain, rising stories in the air, a man-made mountain of stone, overgrown with green. There was another overgrown building off to left, forming the corner of a sort of plaza. We all stood there for a moment taking it all in.

The Colonel gave a hand signal, and we all snapped back into mission mode. My eyes opened, scanning the surroundings, I undid the safety on the flame thrower and carefully fingered the trigger. I took a deep breath, and got myself calmed down and ready. I glanced over at Riley, who held his weapon at the ready. Riley glanced over at me and we exchanged nods. I nodded towards the smaller ruin, Riley nodded back and carefully made his way over, while I headed towards the side of the smaller building next to the taller pyramid.

The Colonel went with Bauer as he led his squad towards the pyramid.

As they approached the building, I picked up the sound of ... chanting. But more familiar. I motioned for the other guys to hold up. I cocked my head. then moved closer, slowly, quietly. Still listening.

Riley made his way silently towards the doorway. I moved in from the other side. From the trampled plants in front of the stone lintel, it was clear that this doorway was being used, a lot.

The report had been that the demon tribe had been preying on the missionaries. I leaned just outside the stone doorway and listened carefully.

Not chanting. Preaching, in that rhythmic preaching style that I remembered from my youth. I began to make out the words. English, with an American accent:

"For it was the *human*, in the garden,
who had the disgrace to go first
in that horrrrrrrid transgression
of their first parents
that has been the source of ALLLLL our misery ... "

There was a demonic chorus of 'Amen's.

"And many sons and daughters of Eve
would yet stray from virtue..."

There was a stream of laughs and applause from the congregation, and more 'Amen's.

I swallowed hard. The Colonel's report had it wrong: the demonic tribe wasn't preying on the missionaries. The demonic tribe *were* the missionaries.

Probably preying on the locals. I had to smile at that one, preying on the locals instead of praying for the locals.

OK, I got a childish sense of humour.

I quickly motioned for the squad to be ready to move in. A signal to Riley to watch the other side of the door, and for two of the guys to circle round to see if there was another entrance. I worked hard at controlling my breathing, staying calm. Keeping my body ready for action.

It seemed like forever for the two doing the recon to report back, both shook their heads. Ok. One way in, one way out.

I looked at Riley and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Riley gave me a curt serious nod in return: Ready.

I nodded slowly once, twice and on the third, we both eased inside, weapons at the ready. There was just enough light from the candles to see about 25 demons facing an altar of sorts, above which a guy was hung upside down, his throat slit, a trickle of blood still dripping down into a shallow bowl.

The demon preacher saw us. "Humans!" He screeched. The demonic congregation turned as one.

I opened up on them with the flame thrower even as Riley sprayed them with his machine gun.

Two other guys from the squad burst in and joined in the massacre.

Riley practically had to cut the preacher in half with bullets before he stopped his charge.

The whole thing took maybe 40 seconds. But I knew that in my dreams, it would seem like hours, remembering every detail as bullets and flames hit the demons, as the light from the flame-thrower illuminated the body hanging upside down of the demons' latest ... and last ... victim.

Riley and I checked out the rest of the building looking for other demons or other demons, as the squad pulled the rest of the bodies out, some still smoldering. They tossed them in a pile in front of the building, and once we had swept the building, I came out and emptied the flame thrower on the pile.

The plaza reeked of kerosene and burning flesh. Almost like human flesh burning, but slightly sweeter. It was starting to worry me a bit that I was beginning to be able to distinguish the smell of different species of HSTs burning.

I looked around, the Colonel waved me over. I started to pull the empty tank of my back. "Ri, gimme a hand here!"

Riley nodded and came over and helped me get it off. "Thanks, bro."

He nodded. It had been good to see the old Riley, the real Riley back.

As I headed over the Colonel, I put a hand on Riley's shoulder, "Glad you're here, Ri."

"Thanks." Riley said softly and then nodded manfully, like it was an effort.

I strode over to the Colonel. "Yes, sir?"

The Colonel looked grim. "Around back ... " He looked down. I sighed. Worst part of the job. The guy hanging up wouldn't have been the first of their victims. I nodded. The Colonel led me to the back of the pyramid. There was a pile of bodies, human bodies. Maybe twenty of them. All of them drained of blood. Some were fresh, some were decomposing, some were almost completely decomposed. It was clear that this had become a favourite feeding place for a number of jungle animals.

I turned away, the stench was overwhelming. I was working hard to choke back the urge to puke.

*****
Part 5: Corn Farmers

"Colonel!" One of the guys yelled.

The Colonel and I trotted over. There was a sort of pit, lined with stone. Looking up were the faces of people who clearly hadn't eaten in days. Indian faces. They had that look of total desperation, of having given up all hope.

"Jesus!" The Colonel yelled at the guys standing around looking down at the human corral. "Get 'em out of there!"

There was a chorus of 'Yes, sir's.

The villagers came out slowly. A few nodded in thanks, but most just walked away with a completely fatalistic stoic look on their faces. There was none of the hugging and kissing the rescuers that I used to fantasize about when I day-dreamed about being the hero. But I realized that all of them had seen family members and friends yanked out of the pit to be sacrificed to the demons, probably had to listen to it too. Tough time.

One of the guys, older and maintaining a certain air of dignity, stayed in the pit, helping the others out. Finally he was the only one left. I reached down and the man took hold of my arm. I slowly stood up, pulling him out of the pit as he held onto my forearm.

He stood up and faced me and really looked me over. He looked me up and down carefully. He stared into my eyes intensely, his head slightly cocked, like maybe he recognized me. Then he spoke with this odd mixture of accents, that Belizan Caribbean English and a soft almost monotone Mayan Indian. "Xbalanke?" He said softly, like he was unsure. "Thank you for coming to defeat the Lords of Death."

I grinned, "I sort of had some help."

"Of course." He grinned at me like I'd made a joke, and shrugged. "There is never Xbalanke without Hunahpu."

Before I could ask him what the fuck that meant, he said, "Come with us to the village. There will be food."

I nodded. I fell in beside him. The Colonel nodded and the rest of the guys fell in. We walked in silence down the jungle path. The other villagers shied away from me and the rest of the guys. He glanced over at me. "My people have a fear of soldiers and uniforms. We do not have a happy history with soldiers."

I nodded. I wanted to protest that we were the good guys here, but didn't. These people had a right to be cautious and afraid.

The path to the village was well-marked, although it didn't look recently used. As we approached the village, we passed through fields hacked from the jungle. Riley reached over and plucked a young ear of corn from a stalk, and peeled back the husk and examined it as we walked along. I grinned. Once a farm boy...

The villagers were checking out their huts, some of the women were building cooking fires. Others were checking out their stores to find stuff that the animals hadn't gotten to while they were captives.

We stood around in the middle of the village in a huddle. The Belizan constable looked at the sun and suggested we not try the river at night. The Colonel agreed. Better to do one more recon for any straggling demon missionaries in the morning, and then head back down-river, be in Belmopan by lunch, back on the transport by one, back stateside by supper. Clean and sweep, and clear out. Wait for the next hot spot alert. The new routine.

Riley was sitting by himself on a rudely carved bench in the village clearing, drinking out of his canteen. I sighed and went over and sat next to him.

"You OK?"

He nodded. He stared straight ahead for a moment, then looked over at me, "Thanks, Gray."

"What for?"

"Bringing me back. Getting me back in."

I nodded, "It's where you belong, Ri."

A hesitation. "I know."

I wanted to hug the guy right then and there. I settled for a light friendly momentary hand on his knee, just a touch of a squeeze and then the hand safely removed and back at my side.

The village leader guy was watching us, sort of indirectly. He nodded at me. It felt like a summons, so I stood up and walked over to him.

"Your friend, he has pain."

I nodded. He watched Riley very closely.

"He has been touched by the demons." It wasn't a question. I looked at him, trying to figure out what the fuck he was talking about.

"Your friend, he has been .." He searched for the words, "... making ready to become kiwil, a sacrifice. That is not good."

"What are you talking about?"

"The demons need blood. Your friend tries to give them his blood." He looked at Riley for a long time, then returned his gaze to me. "We are corn farmers. You are not. Your friend, he is a corn farmer."

I grinned at that and nodded. "Yeah. How did you know?"

The village leader shrugged. "Corn farmers know about these things."

I was pretty sure he was pulling my leg.

He walked over to Riley, I followed. Riley looked up at him. He was still holding his weapon.

"The demons are dead, corn farmer. Put the gun down."

Riley smiled at the 'corn farmer', as he laid his weapon down.

"Show me your arm, corn farmer."

Riley held out his right arm. The leader shook his head. Riley sighed and held up the other one. The leader guy examined it and sighed. Riley looked down at the ground, clearly ashamed.

"You know what you have been doing?"

Riley nodded.

"You will die if you continue, you know that?"

Again, he nodded without looking up.

I blurted out, "Riley, what the *fuck* have you been doing?"

Riley didn't answer. The village leader continued with quiet authority. "If you want to be a sacrifice, do it right. Let your blood run, and then throw yourself into the cenote so that your blood will serve as an offering to the Lords of Death and they will make our corn grow. Or, you can live as a man, even as a hunter, instead of a corn farmer. But you must choose. Soon."

Riley didn't look up, didn't answer.

The village leader grunted and dropped Riley's arm, and turned away. I watched him walk away, and then turned back to Riley, who was sitting there, head down, breathing hard, arms limply at his sides.

"Ri!" I whispered sharply.

No response.

My voice came out little more than a whisper, but it had all my anger behind it. "Talk to me, or I swear to God I will kick the ever-living shit out of you. What the hell have you been doing? What the hell was that guy talking about?"

He looked up at me, pain in his eyes, then looked down at the ground again. I sat on my haunches in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

"You gotta tell me, Ri. Now."

It took him a minute, but he looked up and met my eyes.

"I've been letting vamps ..." he slowly turned his arm so I could see the scars.

"Jesus!" I whispered. "Riley!"

He looked down at the ground again. Silent. He had switched off. This conversation was over. I wanted to kick his ass as badly as I wanted to take him into my arms.

Instead I just stared at him, stone faced, so no one could tell how close to tears I was.

*****
Part 6: K'iwil

I couldn't look at Riley any more or I was going to lose it.

I stood up and turned around, looking for the village leader guy. He was comforting one of the women. I walked over towards him. He saw me and said something softly in Maya to the woman, who gave me a hint of a smile and then nodded and went off.

"I didn't know." I told him, looking down at the ground. I was desperate. I had thought that Riley was back on side. Back home. Back with us. Back with me. I thought he was safe now.

He nodded. "Your friend, he is in great danger. He does not understand what he does."

"Can you do anything?"

The village leader nodded. "If he wants to live, he can. You must help him."

"What can I do?"

"What you must do, is not ... easy."

I nodded, "OK." I relaxed a bit, so long as there was some hope �

He looked at me seriously. "You have not heard what you must do."

I glanced over at Riley. "If it'll save him, I'll do it." I looked back at the man. "You're sure it'll work, right?"

He looked at me seriously. "If you want to take his blood away from theLords of Death, you must give them blood in return. Your blood."

I nodded.

"Your friend has only given them his outer blood, the blood of his arm. You must give them your inner blood."

OK. Confused now. "All blood is inside."

He shook his head. "You must make a k'iwil, a proper sacrifice of blood, the sacred blood." He looked significantly at my crotch.

I swallowed hard. OK, sounding less fun suddenly.

"You still wish to save your friend?"

I nodded, trying not to hesitate.

He searched my face. Then nodded, satisfied. "After we eat, bring him to me."

He looked at me quizzically, head cocked. "You know that he is not your brother?"

"I don't understand."

"Sometimes, men who work together in the milpa, the corn-field, or when they are taken to go in the army, they become like brothers to each other, they look after each other. But sometimes they become closer, like Hunahpu and Xbalanke, the ..." Again he searched for words, "what do you call it when two children are born of the same mother at the same time?"

"Twins?"

"Yes!" His face brightened, "Twins. Sometimes they become like the two who were monkeys and became men, and became ... as one. Like twins. They fought together, and ... stayed together."

OK, I thought. I wasn't sure if he was saying what I thought he was saying. So I didn't say anything.

He grinned slyly, "The priests and the missionaries did not like it when two men became like twins, became like Hunahpu and Xbalanke. But, we like them, we like the twins. They save the world from the Lords of Death."

OK, so he was saying what I thought he was saying. I had to smile a bit. I was busted.

He looked at me carefully and asked softly, "Do you have the dreams?"

I startled. Then asked slowly, "What dreams?"

He grinned, "I thought so. Tonight, after we eat. You must bring your friend to me. You must be with your twin. Make your sacrifice. But now, you must tell me your dream, all your dream. Who is the xibal, the dead one, who speaks to you in your dream? It the xibal a friend or an enemy?"

I swallowed hard. I hadn't told anyone about this dream. "He was a friend, and then he ..."

The guy completed my thought, "He was taken by a demon." He nodded. "Does he come as the friend or as the demon?"

"Friend."

"Ah, that is good. What does the xibal tell you?"

My shoulders slumped. "That I have to take care of my friend." I nodded over at Riley.

He nodded. "Sit down."

I sat on the grass. He sat as well, his knees almost touching mine. "How often do you have this dream?"

"Every night."

He nodded. "Tell me the dream, all the dream."

So I told him how Forrest would appear, and would tell me that I was in charge of Riley's course, that he was alone, and that I was to open the door and the windows of my house to him. And to be Forrest's messenger and tell Riley.

"And have you told your friend?"

I looked down and shook my head.

He lectured me like I was a schoolboy. "The dreams continue because you have not done as the xibal tells you." He cocked his head, "There is more to your dream. Tell me."

"In the dream, he tells me I have a good heart, I am a good man, but that I have a frozen soul, and that I've been a stray dog."

"'Stray dog'?"

"A dog without a home, a dog that runs wild."

He looked at me hard, and then nodded with a sly grin, "Ah. An 'utiyu'. Yes, I see that. Part of you is still the utiyu, the stray dog."

I was pretty sure I didn't like that, maybe because I felt like that sometimes.

"Your friend who became a demon and died is a good friend." He said with finality. "It is not easy for those who become demons to return to the real world and speak. For him to come to you every night means that he is a good friend. You must listen to the xibal and do what he says. You must tell your friend."

I wasn't happy about this. "Why doesn't he just come to Riley, tell him himself?"

The man looked over at Riley and considered it carefully. "I think it is because your twin must have killed the xibal. If the xibal came to your twin in a dream, it would make your twin go crazy. He knows this and so does not come to him."

I swallowed hard. I knew Riley had taken out the demon that Forrest had become. Riley never talked about it. Buffy had told me, or maybe it was that old English guy, when I asked about Forrest after the battle. I didn't understand how this Mayan guy could know that. Maybe it was better not to know.

He searched my face carefully. "You have not ... become as one with your twin, have you?" He made a pretty unambiguous gesture with his two hands, in case I didn't understand the 'become as one' thing.

I hesitated and shook my head. I could feel the flush in my face. He smiled kindly. "Do you want to save him?"

I nodded.

He shrugged. "Then you must. Not now. But soon."

I must have turned white. I couldn't even stammer out a protest.

He grinned at me. "You are worried that your friend ... " He indicated Riley with his chin. Riley was now watching us intently. "... does not want to be your twin."

I hesitated, and nodded, looking down at the ground.

He shrugged. "He *is* your twin. This is what the xibal, the dead one, is telling you in the dream. Your friend fights against being your twin, inside. This is why he tries to die. He went away from you, to be with another. This cannot be. It destroys his soul. He is your twin or he dies. You are Xbalanke, he is Hunahpu. It is simple."

He stood up. I followed suit. "After we eat. Now go sit with your twin."

*****