Oncoming Train

Author’s Note: Sorry about the time it took to put this up! Between having to do my taxes and moving to a new apartment, the days just got away from me! Thanks to Silvi, for giving me a great suggestion that expanded one of the following scenes. This is the longest story I’ve written, so any suggestions, from misspells to story/scene ideas, are much appreciated. No real action this chapter, sorry!

****
Sitting cross-legged on the mattress next to Riley’s prostrate form Xander steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he carefully considered his words. The vampires had agreed to leave them alone for a time, the two older men exchanging loaded glances and talking vaguely in what the teenager guessed to be Gaelic. Probably off to munch on someone, but Xander knew his lover was disciplined enough to stick to his ‘bad people only’ diet. The human blood would do them good and Xander could hopefully shine a light through Riley’s thick skull without all the unnecessary brooding.

“I understand why you’re upset with Angel, Ri,” he began, picking at the coverlet before tentatively touching Riley’s jean clad thigh. “The guy really doesn’t get the whole modern man shtick of sharing his feelings and listening to his partner. He’s from, like, the Victorian period with all those powdered wigs and fancy pants. Ever read any of Willow’s novels? Anyway,” he sighed, “that’s the human in Deadboy. Antiquated notions of being the man of the house, yadda, yadda. Doesn’t matter if you’re a guy too. They programmed them good back then.”

He took a deep breath, absently smoothing his hand up Riley’s hip and under his rumpled windbreaker to lightly massage his toned stomach. All of their clothing was starting to show over-wear, but the seer’s won for rips and bloodstains. “That’s human Angel. Demon Angel is even more antiquated than that. It’s sometimes good to think of them like wolves. Over aggressive, territorial, bad table manners, but complete wusses when you rub ‘em right. Demons also mate for life like wolves. Or unlife in Deadboy and Spike’s case,” Xander thoughtfully corrected. “That’s what ya got to understand, Ri. Angel claimed you for his mate. That’s not a lame word for boyfriend. It means you’re his in every sense and vice versa. There’s no going your separate ways or getting a divorce: the demon won’t let him leave you.

“You’re like air or something. He’ll feel better just being near you. . . Angel is love’s bitch, Riley, you just got to learn his signals. If someone tries to hurt you, he just won’t kill them, he’ll torture them for days as an example to anyone else who would dare lay a finger on his mate. That idea of you getting hurt, well, you saw. He goes a little Angelusy. Spike might like me dominating him in bed, but if I told him I was going to walk buck ass naked into a vampire nest he’d freak. There would be no reasoning and until he calmed down I probably wouldn’t see outside of the bedroom for days.

“Demons are very possessive. Very. Possessive. There is nothing in your history to compare. Accept it and you’ll know what it’s like to be the most treasured person on Earth for Angel. No one will come before you. The sacrifice is that you’ll have a possessive vampire wanting to protect you 24/7. Spike says its worse at first, that the need to tie you to a bed and shag you stupid fades to a more rational level with a little time. I know Angel is driving you nuts with his alpha male crap, but your new bond is making him loco with you getting these seer powers and the Initiative after you. He’s in full protect mode at the worst time in your bond. You bucking for independence is perfectly normal, but Angel isn’t in a sane mindset to deal with it. He needs reassurance that his chosen mate is safe and accepts him. Until he gets it he’s going to stay in asshole alpha mode.

“It’s up to you, Riley. The mating bond won’t let Angel hurt you, but it might drive him over the edge. Spike is afraid what he’d do then. Those Frenkhin demons are on their way and we’ve still got to figure out a way to get the Initiative to somehow stop them. The timing of all this sucks, but we need both of you operational. If you don’t think you can calm Angel’s beast, then let me know so we don’t have any unpleasant surprises hanging over us.”

God, he hated himself just then. Riley was seriously confused and scared about his mating to Angel and Xander had just manipulated him into surrendering to it. The duty bound soldier in him would not let his fears endanger the town or his friends. Xander was confident Riley would submit to Angel. He just prayed this wouldn’t sour and taint the future of their relationship. And that Riley wouldn’t break. If the light died in his friend’s eyes he would never forgive himself.

***

Trapped in his unresponsive body Riley could do nothing but listen to Xander’s voice. The words themselves slipped in and around his head, but he tried to concentrate on them, afraid to lose that last foothold to the reality outside. His mind was not a place to get lost in. the Initiative, in their zeal to manufacture the perfect soldier, sometimes broke the model. Those imperfect failures were still floating around. The doctors assured him of such an impossibility, however. When they needed to start over he was safely mind wiped, like a system restore on a computer, one quick injection Walsh had tailored to his physiology. There were failsafes in his head, in his psyche, that kept him Riley. He just lost everything else. His recurring nightmares, he was firmly assured, were not old memories because he didn’t have any.

Assurances that didn’t explain why he would wake up screaming some nights, startling his roommates awake and into a panic. Spike never wanted to go near him when he was like that, shadowing the doorway until Xander would send him out to make coffee. The moody vampire had his own nightmares to contend with. It had only happened a few times but Xander seemed to learn the signs, somehow suspecting a bad night before Riley could. The younger man had also learned how to approach the distraught soldier, what tone to use and what strength of hand was needed to gentle. It used to be Grey’s voice but Xander had supplanted him. Riley was used to listening to Xander; used to the way he relaxed and comforted him, hugged and kissed him. Xander Harris was good at cuddling. A master cuddler. And somehow he made it safe to cuddle back.

Xander babbled and, as always, Riley listened. Sometimes Riley didn’t want to be touched and his friend would sit at the foot of his bed, just talking. On those nights Riley liked to be as small as possible, would think very small, invisible thoughts. Thankfully, Xander never seemed to notice, chattering about comics, television shows, work, whatever was on his mind. An endless litany that would uncurl the shuddering blond and let him crawl into that inviting lap, arms folding him up tight and keeping him safe. Xander’s voice made it okay to cry because it never stopped and drowned out any other embarrassing noises.

Other nights as soon as Xander rushed into the room Riley was on him, taking them to the floor. He needed Xander kisses and Xander hugs; needed that reassurance he was still human, still deserving of such. Desperate for anything and it was on those nights that he put complete faith in Xander, trusting the younger man to keep control. Those nights were the worse because he felt nothing.

Nightmares or flashbacks to memories he wasn’t supposed to have, Riley rarely made it back to sleep once Xander got him calmed. Instead they would join Spike in the living room, channel surfing and ready with coffee. Xander would sprawl out on the couch with a blond on either side, drink his coffee and zone. Even though the television was often on it somehow had always felt quiet to Riley. It had been good, to just lay there and settle back into his life. To let the nightmares of brutally killing people he might have known, of being tortured and cut open, of living a life too long for his short years; of letting all of it settle back beneath the surface.

The bed beneath him shifted as Xander stretched out alongside him, hand a solid weight on his stomach. “Still right here, Ri’,” the younger man said softly. “Right here, so no nightmares can come. We’re right here together.”

It still amazed him how canny Xander was in reading him, even paralyzed as he was. Almost at a whisper his friend talked to him, something about X-Files and the color schema of aliens. Nonsense that he could focus on and let his mind build itself back up.

They went on that way until the sound of the door opening interrupted Xander’s monologue. Something in Riley practically thrummed and he knew Angel was there before the dark vampire spoke. He couldn’t hear anyone breathing and didn’t smell cigarette smoke so he guessed his lover was alone.

“Xander, is he okay?”

His friend slowly sat up. “He’s fine for now. Did Wesley say how long he was going to be stuck like this?”

“He should be coming around soon,” Angel softly answered, a whisper of sound betraying his quiet approach to the bed.

The mattress bounced as Xander scooted to the edge. “Good, then you can take my place talking to him.”

“Talk?” The vampire sounded genuinely horrified at the prospect and Riley scoffed where no one could hear.

“Yes, Deadboy, talk. You want to be with Riley, well, this is part of it. Sometimes, he gets lost in his head and needs someone he can trust to do what needs doing to get him back on solid ground. I don’t know if he needs it right now, but I do know he doesn’t do well with free empty time.” The bed gave a final jiggle as Xander bounded to his feet. “Kinda like someone else I know. Having nothing to do lets him think too much, get depressed, and a depressed Riley is soon a screaming you awake Riley. So talk to him. Keep it not-broody. Touch him, kiss him, and when he can, make sure he tells you about his happy times with the Initiative. He needs to trust you with this, Angel.”

Great. Way to calm the domineering vampire, Riley mentally groused. Mating to someone as fucked up as him was going to give Angel ulcers. But Angel didn’t growl or indulge in any other posturing. “I . . .have an idea, Xander, from things I have heard over the last few days and my own experiences with what can haunt a man.”

“Ah,” the teenager wisely breezed. “Angelus keeping you warm at night?”

Silence. Then, so softly Riley almost did not hear the underlying steel. “Why don’t you leave me and Riley to work this out? I promise, we will talk and I will keep my temper with my contrary mate.”

“Okay.” Xander sounded farther away, possibly moving to the door. “Riley still needs to eat, so why don’t you bring him down in a few?”

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Angel snapped, sounding more petulant than growly.

“That’s good, ‘cause I see one more bruise and I don’t care how in-law we are, Riley will be bringing you to Passover in a baggie.”

Angel must have thought on that one, but after the longest minute of Riley’s life the vampire responded to the teenager’s threat with a dry wryness. “Thank you, Xander.”

The man had to be channeling Gandhi or maybe Wesley had whopped him with a spell. Riley listened to Xander leave, Angel locking the door behind him. Two thumps that he guessed to be Angel’s shoes and then the vampire was easing himself onto the bed, stretching out to fill the space Xander had vacated.

“This should be wearing off soon, Riley,” the brunette said quietly near his ear. His hand palmed Riley’s hip, getting him onto his side. It put the blond’s face into Angel’s chest, but gentle fingers along his jaw and chin tilted his head so he could breathe easily. “We have lost control, of our tempers and this, but we can have that conversation later.” This? Did he mean this relationship? Was the guy afraid of the word? Too modern a term? Strong fingers kneaded at his hip, pulling Riley back into the room, working their way to the small of his back as Angel started to talk. If he’d been able Riley would have moved into the one-handed massage, enjoying that hard strength reducing his tensed back muscles to so much putty. Damn, but the man had experience at this.

“Talk,” Angel mused aloud. “Did I tell you Cordelia wants to re-do the offices in salmon? That’s a fishy word for pink. She’s convinced it’s a soothing color, but no self-respecting vampire does pink. Or salmon. Do they have salmon in the military? I tried to picture it, make it work, but all I could see was Wesley in one of his tweed jackets having his tea in a pink room. Too British,“ and he emphasized his revulsion with a small shudder.

“Did you know I’m Irish? Very typical Irish. Hated to work and loved to drink. Wasn’t a very good Catholic though. My father and I . . . The night Darla found me I’d been given an ultimatum by me Da: a job out on one of our cousin’s farm or enlistment. Da’d had enough, so it was farming or soldiering or making me own way. I think on it now, and the boy I was then, and I would have beat him bloody. I was a right pain in the ass. There was this one time I stole Mr. Hagan’s milking goat and snuck it . . .”

And Angel proceeded to tell him a tragically humorous story about Mr. Hagan’s unfortunate goat, the town rectory and a young woman named Margaret whom Angel could claim good authority to know was not near as pristine as she swore herself on her wedding day. His brogue thickened in the telling, but his gentle touches stayed strictly above the belt. almost absent minded as Angel fell into his story. The man was good at it, pulling Riley in so deeply that he didn’t notice the sluggish slide of his leg against Angel’s, settling himself more comfortably. Angel shifted to accommodate him without breaking stride. By the time the constabulary was called in the seer was mostly back in control of his extremities, gratefully smiling to feel his hand smooth up his lover’s silk clad side of his own volition.

“I think Mr. Hagan ate that goat the next year. Probably to keep it from his wife.” Angel was right there, chuckling darkly into his ear, and Riley hummed in response. It was really good, feeling the hard press of Angel’s body down the length of his own, and know that this was all his. Xander was a good friend and a great kisser, but he had been borrowed comfort. Once everything was back to normal in their odd little friendship Xander always returned to Spike. Kisses and hugs could only do so much when you knew they were not yours to keep. This was much nicer.

“Good story,” he husked, swallowing spit to moisten his throat. “You and Spike sound a lot alike. At least you back in the day.”

Angel kept rubbing his back though the brogue noticeably faded. “Liam and Spike were similar, I suppose, but Liam . . . He was not a strong man. In too many ways, neither was Angelus. That was my biggest trial, learning to be strong.”

“Yeah,” Riley whispered, wondering if he could make the same claim. Xander was right, but did he have the strength to do this? He remembered feeling ashamed and humiliated when he had told the Scoobies; remembered their looks of pity and horror. The thought of Angel looking at him the same way made his stomach roil. He didn’t want the man’s pity.

“Whatever this is, Riley,” his lover said, somehow sensing his conflict, “just remember who I am. I’ve seen and done worse than any of the Scoobies could imagine. Given my past, I am the last person who will judge you. You want to tell me everything or just what needs to be said, fine. There are things in my past I never want anyone to know, so I’ll respect your privacy. But I need to hear something to explain Xander’s behavior.”

Now he needed an explanation for Xander’s behavior? “Xander is kinkier than he looks,” Riley muttered, his glib response earning him a rebuking glare, Angel pulling back to meet his opening eyes. When the blond tried to look away fingers caught his chin, drawing him back. Riley jerked free, but did not retreat but to press his forehead to Angel’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’m as young as I look.”

The fingers on his back briefly stilled before their motion resumed, more gently than before. “How old do you think you are?”

“No idea. I have memories of growing up in Iowa, of loving parents and a slew of brothers and sisters, but none of them call me and I vaguely remember the last time I visited home as a while ago. I guess I’m saying I don’t know if they’re real. I don’t know if I’m real.”

A hand that could too easily communicate the vampire’s innate violence delicately cupped his nape. “Do you think this is all a dream, leanbh?”

Riley punched his arm, hard enough to make him wince. “I’m not insane, you ass! I’m trying to say I don’t know who I am! For all I know Riley Finn doesn’t exist and my name is really Bob Harley or something! The Initiative, they’re a lot older than anyone thinks and they’re interested in more than killing hostiles. When Buffy led that attack on their base here in Sunnydale it gave me the distraction to steal my file. Most of it was too heavily encrypted for me to make any sense of but I learned about my experiment status. The language they used, they talked about me like I was a computer program. A nothing that could be erased, re-booted at will. Reading that, the nightmares I couldn’t shake suddenly made sense. They were old memories, I don’t care what they say otherwise. For whatever reasons I’d been erased before. With my practically non-existent cell degeneration I have no way of testing for my biological age. They could have erased my memories dozens of times, forget whoever I was to begin with.”

Thinking about how much of his life they could have taken lapsed Riley into a heavy silence, but Angel’s voice quietly prodded him back on track. “So why did you return?”

“I needed help,” Riley gave a minimalist shrug. “I confronted them about what I knew and they promised not to mess with my memory, though they wouldn’t give me anything more about my past. Grey swore he wouldn’t let them hurt me, that he’d watch my back. I belong with the Initiative. No one would tell me if I was someone else or a clone or something even stranger, but they knew how to fix me. The drugs they gave me stopped the nightmares. At the time I didn’t care if they were really memory suppressors or what. I just wanted to feel normal again.”

“No one can fault you for that,” Angel vehemently fired back, “but you don’t belong to them. Do you hear me, Riley? I will never let you go back to them.”

“I don’t want to go back. I won’t,” the seer promised. His lips quirked. “Can’t seem to stay away from you.”

Angel’s chest beneath him vibrated with the vampire’s low growl. “I didn’t want you like this, please believe me. Once we are free of here you have my word as the Master of the House of Aurelius, I will do whatever it takes to get you control of these powers.” Riley nodded against Angel’s shoulder and the imposing vampire briefly hugged him tighter, forcing a small grunt out of the blond. “Do you want to tell me about the nightmares?”

Not really. Suddenly tired of the sharing Riley shook his head. “Not right now, okay?” Easing back he propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand finding its way across Angel’s chest. The master vampire let him explore, his own hand resting placidly on Riley’s flank. “I remember my vision about the Initiative and I’ve got an idea on how to get them here, but I’ll need your help.”

Angel stared at him for a long minute, but finally let them move forward. “What do you need me to do?”

***

Graham was sitting against the wall when he heard an unsteady footfall on the stairs. He kept his head lowered as a pale and weaving Riley shuffled in and out of the circle cast by the overhead light bulb, using the wall for support as he came ever closer. Once he hit the bars of the cell he used them until he came abreast of Graham’s still figure. His fingers were white wrapped around two rusted bars and his breathing grew more ragged as he stared about the dingy room.

“Graham?” he whispered and he sounded so lost the other Marine could not deny him. With a hiss of chains he was at the bars, wedging an arm through to catch his former best friend about the waist. There were the bars between them but Graham didn’t feel a one, breathing in the blond’s sweet scent and gingerly fingering his rumpled hair.

“Riley, what has that bastard done to you?” The slightly taller man felt too light against him, his stubble shadowed cheeks too hollow.

The blond shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you not to worry about me?”

“Iowa.” How did he expect him not to worry?

“No, Graham. No.” Something hard was shoved into his pocket. “There is an army of demons coming to this town and they will kill everyone in it.” He shook his head sharply when Graham opened his mouth, cold hazel eyes staring hard into bluish grey for several tense seconds before Riley’s jerked away. “Don’t ask how. There are going to be thousands of them. I need you to stop worrying about me and start doing your job. They plan to hit the high school first. You can’t let this town be wiped out.”

An army? It was a worst case scenario for the Initiative, open warfare between demons and humans. “Why the high school?”

“They believe there is an open conduit to Hell buried beneath the school.” The blond winced at the Marine’s skeptical expression, drawing away, but Graham didn’t relax his hold and Riley settled. “Look, I’m not saying it’s true. They believe it and are coming. They are the threat, not the Hellmouth.”

This portal even had a name? Watching avidly, Graham saw the man he secretly worshipped once more start to lose his all too brief stability. The tortured hazel eyes squeezed shut under his scrutiny, Riley starting to struggle in earnest in his grip. “Riley, Riley, calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.” He touched a pale cheek, hoping physical contact would help re-center his friend. The blond gasped, eyes flying open though he didn’t seem to be looking at anything. Then it hit him suddenly, with enough force to throw him backwards, his shout part surprise and part confused pain.

//They were surrounded, too many vampires and too little ammo. The marsh was muffling and echoing the screams of his men as they broke and ran. Something large came out of the bushes to his right virtually on top of him. Too late to aim before his vision exploded in agony and darkness.//

//He laughed as he tossed the lanky figure onto the pillow submerged bed, Riley playfully wiggling about until Graham had him pinned beneath his greater weight. Wide, loving hazel eyes blinked up at him and he couldn’t resist that pouting mouth. Riley opened with a greedy noise that went straight to his already leaking interest and he ground himself down onto the blond’s matching hardness.//

//Don’t worry, sir. He will never feel a thing.” The voice of the technician rolled past his ears as he stared in at the body strapped to the bed. Riley was hooked up to so many machines it was difficult to actually make out his thin person amidst all of the tubes, wires, and blinking lights. The dirty blond hair had been shaved off and a bandage glared whitely across his forehead. There was a feeding tube filling his mouth and opaque goggles blocked his vision if he were to ever open his eyes. Which he wouldn’t. Since the last experiment Riley barely registered any brain activity. There was some curiosity if he would grow back the removed brain tissue but right now he was a vegetable.//

“Oh God,” Graham moaned, vomiting up his last meal as a multitude of visions continued to assault his senses. Each one felt as real as the last, like often visited memories or nightmares. Slowly they began to fade, but he knew they wouldn’t truly go away. Some of them he didn’t want to lose, remembering those where he and Riley were together.

Minutes passed before he was able to make sense of the cell about him, gradually returning to the present. He could hear someone crying hard, hiccupping and sobbing wetly. Lifting his head he could see Riley collapsed on the grime heavy floor, shoulders shaking. Standing a few feet beyond him the vampire Angel was watching with a carefully blanked expression.

“Well, that is a new development,” the brunette’s voice was soft, but Graham could hear the edge of control.

Riley tensed at hearing the vampire. “Angel, please,” he whispered, and Graham flinched at the desperate, pleading tone. “Please, stop it. I can’t see anymore.”

Those visions were from Riley? Angel sneered at the blond. “I have nothing to do with it. You know what you have to do.”

Riley’s head sunk to his clenched fists, his shoulders spasmodically jerking though he seemed to have stopped crying. Frozen in his cell, Graham could only bear witness as Riley slowly gathered himself to crawl to the vampire’s feet. His heart constricted to watch his best friend debase himself, kissing the vampire’s feet before working his way higher. Ankles, calves, knees, thighs; Graham could no longer watch, shamed he could do nothing to stop this humiliation. The bastard had royally fucked with Riley’s head if those fantasies he had projected were anything to go by. If the sadistic fuck held the remote for controlling the delusions he could too bitterly understand Riley’s willing desperation to play whore.

“Good boy,” Angel growled lustfully, and Graham jerked his eyes up to see Riley mouthing the vampire’s sizeable erection through the leather pants. When his trembling fingers fumbled for the zipper Graham opened his mouth to protest, but Angel stopped him, hauling the blond up into his arms. “Have we learned our lesson, then?” the brunette quietly asked, gently carding the sweat damp hair, Riley’s face buried in the larger man’s neck. If it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing Graham wouldn’t have heard him, but he did, suspicions confirmed. Angel was playing some twisted game to ensure Riley’s obedience. Shamefully aware the Initiative had used similar tactics on Walsh’s finest achievement he wasn’t surprised when Riley nodded, pulling back only long enough to whisper, “Yes, sir,” before again hiding his face.

Carrying the full grown man with the ease another would exert with a child, Angel stalked to stand just within reach of the bars. Riley seemed to have passed out and didn’t open his eyes at the cruel tone to Angel’s voice. “You look a little peckish there, boyo. Didn’t you like your sampling of the future?”

“Is that what you’ve told him, that he’s seeing the future? You pump him full of hallucinogens and sell him on what? That you’re the best he can hope for?”

He didn’t expect the vampire to laugh, features rippling into his demonic mask. “You people don’t believe in vampires even when they’re sucking you dry. I should have expected you wouldn’t believe in a power to grant someone the vision to see the future. Very American, to deny the reality about you. Believe or do not. It will not change what Riley has become.”

After the vampire left Graham pulled out the key Riley had slipped him. If it opened his chains he’d still need to get out of the cell and vice versa, but it gave him a chance he hadn’t had before. The question, of course, was what to do once free. Was Riley now insane or was this town truly in danger?

TBC.

Krimson - I did write Wesley as somewhat distracted in this, but that was what I liked about him, before he went all broody. Hopefully this chapter will have answered some questions. So much has happened in just a couple of days!

CC- sorry this took so long! One of my challenges in this story was to show a man who is trying to integrate two personalities into one. I probably won’t know if I’m successful until the end, but thanks for sticking with me!

Rude Much - his ass is only going to get more so!