"A Cleansing Fire: An Elseworld's Fic"

Author: Indie
Email: indiefic@hotmail.com
Notes: FYI, Fescue is a type of grass. //memories// & /~thoughts~/
Dedication: To my lovely betas who are so patient with me, especially Trammie who has been an absolute godsend. ::smooch:: for you, Sweetie. And to Serena who was so mortified by the leggings that they have henceforth been banned from any future fics.

"Oh no, B," Faith said as she stared past her friend towards the entrance of the spectacularly adorned room.

Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and she knew without turning around exactly who had just arrived.  With much effort, she kept her expression neutral and took a sip of the expensive champagne.  She smiled easily at an attractive young man who brushed past her a little too closely even if the room was packed to bursting.

Tearing her gaze back to her friend, Faith asked, "Wanna get outta here?"

Shaking her head firmly, Buffy replied, "It's not like I can avoid him for the rest of my life.  If I leave, it would make him think I have something to hide.  I'm not going to run."

Faith smiled conciliatorily at her friend although she was fuming inside.  How could Xander do something so cold?  Even if he wasn’t privy to all the specifics, he should have known better than to invite Angel to the restaurant's opening.  Traitor.  Faith knew that Angel was a silent partner in Xander’s business, but he was very, very silent.  Surely Xander could have managed to misplace his invitation to the opening.  As far as Faith knew, aside from forking over a lot of cash to Xander, Angel had never shown any interest in this particular investment.

"Is he alone?" Buffy asked, despising herself for being curious.

Faith frowned at her friend, but glanced back towards the entrance, trying to be discrete.  It wasn't an easy task.  She squinted as she tried to make out the people making their way through the throng of patrons.  Damn it, she was going to have Lasik surgery as soon as she managed to save enough money.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy asked, "Why didn't you wear your glasses?"

Making a face, the brunette replied, "As if."  Squinting for several more moments, she sighed and looked back at her friend.  "He's with that hottie brother of his, Will, but I don't see anyone else."

Buffy sighed inwardly, careful not to let her relief show.  Apparently he didn't have a new girlfriend yet ... or he'd left her at home.  /~Probably the latter~/ she thought wryly.  Angel may have been easy, but he wasn't stupid.  Having a new girlfriend so soon after their split wouldn't look good while he tried to plead his case for an annulment.  Being seen without his requisite knockout blonde might have hurt his pride, but he could deal with that.  The wound to his bottom line, if Buffy was able to convince the judge that their marriage had been valid and that he was the one who had broken it, would be far more damaging.

She ground her teeth together in an effort to maintain her smile.  Annulment.  He was actually trying to get an annulment.  She had laughed when Lindsey had the paperwork delivered to her via courier.  She’d thought it was some horrible joke.  She and Angel had been married for seven years.  Seven Years.  How could you annul seven years?  A little digging and an appointment with a lawyer she could not afford shed a little light on the subject.  An annulment wouldn’t be easy.  Five years was usually the cut-off point, but Lindsey had found some loopholes and a very amenable judge.  It appeared there were ways to annul seven years, to legally decide that they hadn’t existed.

Leave it to Angel to kick her when she was down.  A divorce was bad enough.  But an annulment?  She knew how utterly cold he was capable of being.  She had seen the horrors his parents put him through and she knew that his struggles, his pain at such an early age had made him ruthless by necessity.  It had been integral to his survival.  He had done anything necessary to protect himself.

Apparently, divorcing her didn’t provide him with enough protection.  He had to pretend their life together had never existed.  Buffy sighed and blinked back tears.  Angel was feared and respected, but she knew underneath it all that he was defenseless and vulnerable as a newborn.  When left with no defense, humans will often adopt the ultimate offense.  He kept people away.  He let no one in.  He survived by keeping everyone and everything at bay and under control.

He was ruthless.  He was mercenary.  He would do anything in his power to keep her out of his life.

So why couldn’t she stop loving him?

---

"Hell of a turnout," Xander happily noted almost an hour later to Faith.

"Yeah," she replied sharply, "quite the crowd you have here.  Whoring yourself out as usual, I see."

Xander's brow furrowed at the slight as he studied his longtime friend.  "Okay," he said slowly, "are you going to tell me what I did wrong or are you just going to hold it against me for the rest of my life?"

Scowling at her friend, Faith hissed, "How could you invite Angel, Xander?  You know that he and Buffy are in the middle of a really messy split.  It's bad enough that it's probably going to drag on for months.  Why do you feel it necessary to make it harder on her?"

Xander blanched and studied something on the toe of his shoe.  He spent the last six months trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t be a problem, but he knew it had been a lie.  Approaching Buffy’s estranged husband to be an investor in his restaurant had been a sketchy move at the time, but now, with Buffy and Angel no longer simply separated, but actively ending their relationship, his actions seemed even more untoward.

"I just ... " Xander began.

"You what?" Faith countered.  "You thought it would be fun for Buffy to be stuck in a room with her cheating soon-to-be-ex and all of their former mutual friends and see who takes who's side?"

Xander shot her a hard look.  "You know that's not true," he said firmly.  "It’s business.  You know how much I love Buffy.  I would *never* do anything to hurt her."

"Trust me," Faith replied, "this hurt her.  She’s holding up really well, but it’s an act.  She was not ready to be stuck in a social situation with Angel."

"Buffy is my friend," Xander said with a weary sigh.  "She's always been there for me, and I owe her so much.  But let's face it, I would be nowhere without Angel’s money and connections.  Without him, I would be stuck flipping burgers in some diner.  There’s no way that I would be opening the hottest new spot in L.A..  If I turn on him, I will lose *everything*."

Regarding him with disgust, Faith replied, "Glad to know you have your priorities.  I thought you were different, but you’re not.  You’re a man.  First you ditch Willow and now you ditch Buffy.  Bravo, Xander, you'll be a member of Angel's inner circle in no time with moves like that."

Xander sighed and watched Faith walk away.  He had deluded himself with the belief that he would be able to remain friends with Faith and Buffy, but he knew that wasn’t true.  When he had accepted Angel’s capital investment he had started the fire.  By breaking it off with Willow two months ago, he had effectively thrown gas on the fire.  Odds were that his bridges would be burned before the evening was out.

Xander ran a shaky hand through his hair.  The evening was a success, but it was a meaningless one.  Without Willow there to share in his accomplishments, it meant nothing.  He never imagined that such a brilliant success could feel like such an absolute failure.

---

"How'd it go?" Willow asked cheerily as Buffy entered the apartment they shared.  The redhead's jovial mood departed as she saw the weary expression on her friend's face.  Quickly, she jumped off the sofa and hurried over to where Buffy stood in the entryway.

"Xander had a good night," Buffy replied with faux enthusiasm, biting back tears.

"Oh, Buffy," Willow said quietly as she enveloped her dearest friend in a hug.  Buffy slumped against her friend, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.  She had been successfully holding herself together for hours, but the stress had finally taken its toll.  Surrounded by Willow's comforting embrace, she gave in to the emotions she'd been holding at bay.

Long minutes later, Buffy was wrapped in her comfy pajamas, curled up in bed as Willow handed her a steaming mug of cinnamon tea.  She took it gladly, letting the warmth of the mug seep through her chilled fingers.  Angel had often kept her tiny hands tucked safely inside his own, knowing how quickly her fingers turned to ice when left to their own devices.  For months she had been forced to acclimate herself to having cold fingers again.  Roughly pushing away the painful memories, Buffy smiled weakly at her friend.

Willow had been a lifesaver when her relationship with Angel fell apart.  Everything happened so suddenly and Buffy was left adrift, in dire need of help.  Willow quickly stepped forward, offering her friend a place to live and even securing a job for her when Angel froze all of their mutual assets.  Buffy was deeply grateful.

"Want to talk about it?" Willow asked carefully.

"Angel was at the opening," Buffy said with a sigh followed by a sniffle.  "We didn't ... talk or anything . It was just ...  Everyone kept staring at me like they were waiting for me to make a scene or something.  It was so humiliating."

Willow looked at her friend, her gaze full of empathy.  She had warned against going to Xander's opening, but Buffy was too proud to let Angel cow her and too loyal to let Xander down.

/~Maybe I should have spoken up more~/ Willow thought to herself.  She had bitter knowledge of just how quickly the tides of friendship could change in the wake of a break-up, especially one as high profile as Buffy's.  Angel's friends were moneyed and powerful.   They doted on Buffy while she was a Roarke by marriage, but as soon as Angel and his money left her, so did they.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Willow said, brushing a lock of hair back off Buffy's forehead.

Buffy smiled pitifully, tears in her eyes.  "I'm sorry, Wills.  I know how hard tonight was for you.  I'm sorry I'm being so selfish."

"It's okay, Buffy," Willow replied easily.

The evening opened up a lot of wounds, not only for Buffy, but for Willow as well.  Her recent split from Xander was still extremely raw.  They hadn’t been married, but their relationship was long term and, at least Willow thought, deeply committed.  The fact that he seemed to be doing so well in her absence while she was having trouble making ends meet didn't make things any easier.  But Willow comforted herself with the knowledge that Xander didn’t possess Angel’s capacity for cruelty.  Poor Buffy was in for a rough time.

---

"Your ex was looking in fine form this evening," William Rayne drawled slowly as he took a sip of Scotch.

"Really?" Angel asked offhandedly.  "I didn't notice."

Will laughed lightly under his breath.  It was a bald faced lie if he'd ever heard one.  Although Angel had been very discrete about it, Will knew he had kept an eye on the petite blonde for most of the evening and they left only after her departure.  Not that it had been hard to keep an eye on the girl, she'd looked absolutely delicious in her little black cocktail dress.

"Afraid someone's going to come in and carry off your scraps?" Will asked antagonistically.  He knew from experience that it wasn't wise to push his older brother on a subject that he didn't want to discuss, but it was simply too tempting to leave alone.

Angel narrowed his gaze at William but held his tongue for almost a minute.  When he finally spoke, it was with icy control.  "Technically," he said calmly, "Buffy is still my wife.  Until the point at which she no longer is, I will treat any advances made towards her without my characteristic patience and understanding."

Will bit his tongue knowing full well that Angel was about as far from patient and understanding as a person could get.  His temper and capacity for revenge were notorious.  It appeared that anyone trying to put the make on his soon-to-be-ex would find themselves faced with a war they couldn't possibly hope to win.

Will shrugged and then frowned as a thought hit him.  "Speaking of which," he drawled, "why exactly *is* she still your wife?  It's been months, mate.  I woulda figured a neurotic businessman like yourself would have had the paperwork done within days of the split and little Buffy would be safely tucked away in some Italian villa waiting on her next alimony payment."

Scowling, Angel did not meet his brother's gaze.  He rose to pour himself another drink.  Will lit a cigar as he watched his elder sibling carefully, wondering how wise it had been to bait him.

They were brothers, bound by blood, but they had never been close.  At thirty-two, Angel was eight years the elder.  While they had grown up together for the first two years of William’s life, they had been raised apart after their mother’s suicide.  William didn’t remember much of his mother, but what he did was not pleasant.  She had been deeply disturbed, and not been a fit parent.  After the funeral, William went to live with his paternal grandmother and Angel was sent to his father.

Jenny Roarke Rayne had not been a good parent, but gossip had it that she was fantastic in comparison to her abusive, alcoholic ex-husband.  Holtz and Jenny had been married for six tumultuous, violent years.  Despite the fact that William lived with Ethan’s mother, he still got to hear all of the tidbits concerning Angel and his father.  Even an income gap as wide as the one that separated William’s life from Angel’s couldn’t keep tongues from wagging and his grandmother had often openly lamented Angel’s fate.  Local opinion held that Holtz and Jenny’s relationship had been bad after the divorce, but previous to that, their marriage was nothing short of open warfare.  He shuddered at the thought of what it must have been like for a child to be forced to live with the two volatile tempers.  From what his grandmother had related to him, Angel had been little more than a pawn in his parents’ wars and after Jenny’s death, his father had taken out a good amount of his lingering rage on his young son.

After tossing back one drink and pouring himself another, Angel once again took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs that decorated the office of his expensive high-rise apartment.  "I'm not divorcing Buffy" he replied evenly.

Will frowned.  He knew his brother hadn't exactly been acting like himself lately, but he hadn't realized he'd gone totally mental.  "Um, no, Angel,  I'm really sure that you are getting a divorce.  Little Fluffy moved out and everything ... and your army of lawyers has been hanging around more than usual."

Angel regarded William carefully.  He detested having to explain his actions.  "I didn't say we weren't in the process of dissolving our marriage," he clarified.  "I said we weren't getting a divorce, at least not if I can help it."

"Come again?" Will said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Buffy wants a divorce.  I want an annulment," Angel explained.

"What's the diff?" he asked with a snort.

Angel sighed in exasperation.  Sometimes his brother really had problems following the action.  He didn’t remember his mother’s second husband well, but Angel was beginning to think the man must have been an idiot.  "If Buffy and I get divorced," he explained, "she will be generously compensated for her troubles."

Will nodded.

"An annulment, on the other hand, means we go our separate ways like our marriage never happened.  No division of property.  No alimony.  No ex-wife walking off with half of the Roarke fortune."

"Pretty slick," Will said with a low whistle.  "Leave it to you to figure a way to screw your wife out of her due.  I'll assume she's fighting this."

"Yes," Angel said with a wry grin, "she's fighting it."

Will frowned again.  "Shouldn't all of this have been agreed to before you ever put the damn ring on her finger?  You find a problem with the contracts ol' Lindsey drew up or something?"

Angel let out a bark of laughter.  Will stared at his brother, wondering if he’d finally snapped.

Angel smirked.  "There was nothing to find fault with," he said cryptically.

"Huh?"

"No prenup," Angel explained, finishing off the rest of his drink in one long draw.

Will actually gaped at the response.  "*You* didn't have a prenuptial agreement?" he choked.

"That's what I said," Angel answered quietly.

Will didn't think he could possibly be more shocked.  Angel was the type to painstakingly document *every* business arrangement.  He never left anything to chance.  Ever.  He was a complete control freak.  He had a lot of money that he guarded very carefully.

After the initial shock faded, Will asked, "Why on earth didn't you have one?  Don't you dare tell me that you were so bloody head over heels that you were certain it would last forever."

Angel smiled mirthlessly.  "I'm not that naïve," he answered dryly.

"Then what?" Will asked.  "California is a community property state, mate."

"I never thought it would last forever," Angel said, wearily spinning the empty glass in his hands.  "I just figured that when it finally fell apart that she would deserve whatever she got."

"Deserve?" Will asked in shock.  "You're an asshole, but there's thousands o' birds out there that would go through the horror of being married to you for a lot less than half.  What the hell did Fluffy do to deserve walking away with half your fortune?"

Angel studied the empty glass for a long moment.  "She was pregnant when we got married," he said quietly.  "I figured that as the mother of my child, she would be entitled to whatever she could get out of me.  I didn't trust my generosity to hold up through a divorce and I didn't want to deny my child anything."

Will was stunned into silence.  Buffy had been pregnant?  He knew for a fact that Angel didn't have any children, neither did Buffy.  His mind was awhirl with suspicions.  He'd never been overly fond of his sister-in-law, and this seemed to confirm his previous assumptions about her character.  "Pregnant, eh?" he snorted.  "Sounds like she got you good.  You were in such a rush to marry her that you got taken, mate.  One fictitious child and seven years later she walks away with half your bloody fortune without having to ruin her pretty little figure with a brat."

Angel winced.  What had possessed him to confide that information to Will?  He'd never discussed the matter with anyone.  /~Fictitious child~/ Angel pondered.  He couldn't help but think back to that night, waking to find Buffy next to him, bleeding, hysterical, shaking so badly her teeth chattered.  If only it *had* been a ruse ...  But it was not.  The lingering depression that followed the miscarriage, her devastation at the loss of their first child ...  Watching his wife go through that had worn on Angel more than he would ever allow anyone to know.  For all of their many problems, he knew that Buffy would never use a child, or the possibility of one, in such a manner.  It was far too important to her.

"Buffy *was* pregnant when we were married," he said in a tone that let Will know the subject was closed.

---

Buffy sighed as she wrapped the apron around her waist and prepared for another day of slingin' espresso beans.  Willow owned a small bookshop and coffee house named The Book 'n Bean.  It was similar to the first place where Buffy had worked after fleeing Iowa for southern California.  She didn't know what she would have done eight years ago without Willow, or three months ago for that matter.  It seemed like Wills was always there to help her pick up the pieces.

"You sure you're up to this?" Willow asked quietly, making sure the other employees wouldn't overhear their conversation.

Buffy shrugged and smiled wryly.  "It's not like I can let him bring my life to a screeching halt every time I see him, Wills.  People end their marriages every day.  I'll get through it."

Willow smiled and let the subject drop.  She'd always been impressed by Buffy's vocal pragmatism on life, but she also knew that she hid behind it a lot.  Buffy was much more of a softhearted optimist than she wanted anyone to know.

As Willow walked into the storeroom to check on inventory, Buffy smoothed her apron down.  It wasn't wrinkled, but she had to keep her hands busy or she would go insane.  Eight years ago she thought she had gone through the hardest thing she would ever have to face in her life.  How wrong she was.  Her flight to California was impulsive, a last ditch effort to preserve her dignity and independence.  Stuck in the stiflingly small town of Huxley, Iowa in the wake of what happened ... she would have drowned in the pity.  When Riley left her, almost literally at the altar, she was completely unprepared.  She was eighteen and thought herself desperately in love with the man who had been her boyfriend since junior high.  He was safe.  Maybe their relationship wasn’t perfect, but she had known him for as long as she could remember.  Buffy had her entire life mapped out.  She would have been content to spend the rest of her life with him, raising kids in Huxley, never longing for more.

But Riley was not satisfied with her.  Often times, he openly lamented that she was too meek, too predictable.  Buffy stoically held her chin up when he said things of that nature, telling herself that once they were married, Riley would settle down.  But he didn’t settle.  He said he wanted more out of life.  ‘More’ apparently entailed fucking around with resident debutante, Cordelia Chase.  Riley had not been ready for marriage, but rather than admit that, he blamed his fiancé for his faults.  Buffy found out that they flew off to Jamaica as she was getting ready on the morning of her wedding.  She could still clearly remember Riley's father, deeply embarrassed, showing up to tell her what had happened just after her mother had finished helping her on with her wedding dress.

//  "Honey," Joyce had said hesitantly, looking incredibly nervous, "there's someone here to see you."

Buffy spun around, watching in the mirror as the voluminous white skirt puffed out when she twirled.  Her face was lit by a radiant smile.  "Who?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

Riley's father appeared in the doorway.  His face fell as he saw the wedding dress and he flushed, unable to meet her eyes.  "Oh, Buffy ... " he said, his face tight with shame.  "Buffy, Riley ... isn't here."

Buffy looked at him, uncomprehending.  Something was wrong. "Isn't here?" she asked, her voice slightly frantic.  "Is he all right?  Has he been hurt?"

Riley’s father shook his head, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.  "I’m so sorry, sweetheart," he said.  "Riley left this morning ... ran off with Cordelia Chase.  He left this note."  //

Buffy walked around in a stupor for weeks.  For the first time in her life, her future was unknown.  Terror didn't even begin to describe what she was going through.  In a fit of desperation, she boarded a bus bound for the west coast.  She didn’t tell anyone what she was doing, she simply did it.  Weeks later, she sent her parents a postcard assuring them she was safe.

It was a lie.  She hadn't been safe.  She was scared out of her wits, homeless, jobless, with a total of about fifty dollars to her name.  She started hanging out in a bookstore that stayed open all hours.  The shelters were way too scary and she knew she would be easy prey if she stayed on the streets.  Eventually, the owner took pity on her and gave her a job and the name of an employee who needed a roommate.  Enter Wills.  Buffy had taken to the redhead immediately and in return, Willow had been the best friend she'd ever had.  They'd been inseparable ... until Buffy met Angel Roarke.

// Willow laughed, pulling Buffy into the stock room.  "Go see if he needs anything," she goaded.

"I can’t," Buffy said, her face burning with a blush as she merely thought about the idea of speaking to the incredibly gorgeous young man sitting at one of the small tables reading a financial newspaper.

"You have to," Willow said.  "He’s been watching you all afternoon."

"He has not," Buffy said.

"Has too," Willow replied with a confident grin.

"He’s too old," Buffy said.

Willow looked around the corner and made a dismissive gesture.  "Whatever," she said, "you’re nineteen.  He’s probably twenty-four or twenty-five.  Trust me, it’s legal."

"I can’t," Buffy said, mortified.  "Did you see the car he drove up in?  It’s a BMW.  I can’t even afford a bus pass."

"He doesn’t know that," Willow said.  "Now go on."  And with that, she gave Buffy a push out the door towards Angel.//

Shaking away the memories, Buffy rubbed her temples.  She needed to keep her mind off of Angel, at least until enough time had passed so she could think about the subject without wanting to scream or cry or vomit.  The ding of the bell over the door tore her from her wallowing and she plastered on a cheery smile.

---

Daniel "Holtz" Roarke snorted as he looked at his only child, his expression riddled with disgust.  "Figures," he said harshly.  "I knew you would find some way to screw it up, even with someone as mild mannered as Buffy.  You always were your mother’s son."

Angel's face was devoid of emotion.  Years of experience taught him well that showing any weakness to his father would only encourage the man to further aggressive tactics.  He started back blankly, his expression a perfect mask in inscrutability.

"What happened?" the elder man prompted when his son remained silent.  "You cheat on her?  She cheat on you?"

"I see no reason to discuss the specifics," Angel said, his voice betraying none of the rage he felt at his father’s prodding.

"Oh, but there is," Holtz countered aggressively.  "I didn't build this fortune from nothing to see you piss it all away on divorce settlements.  You didn't even get an heir out of this.  Your mother was a psychotic bitch, and a lying whore, but at least she was smart enough to produce you before she ran off with that drunken con man."

//"That’s it, Daniel!" Jenny screamed.  "It’s over.  Over.  I’m leaving and you’re never going to see your son again!"

Four year old Angel tried to remain upright as his mother dragged him down the hallway, striding for the door, trying to reach it before his father caught up.  He turned and the look on his father’s face scared him to the core. His face was almost unrecognizable, contorted with rage.  He reached out and grabbed Angel’s trailing arm.  Holtz pulled hard enough to bring both his son and wife to a stop.  Angel let out a high pitched scream as his little shoulder dislocated.

Neither of his parents seemed to notice. Holtz kept pulling on the dislocated arm until Jenny was forced to let go.  He pulled Angel around behind him with enough force to send the little boy sprawling onto the Persian carpet that ran the length of the darkly paneled hallway.

Angel bit into his bottom lip to keep from crying out.  His shoulder hurt so much, but making noise would only make them pay more attention to him.  He blinked through his tears, cradling his arm to his body and turned back towards his parents.

"You bitch," Holtz seethed as he pulled back and struck Jenny across the face with enough force to send her to her knees.

Jenny lay on the floor, staring up at her husband, her eyes wide.  Blood stained the corner of her mouth.

"You aren’t going anywhere with that little bastard," Holtz said.

Swallowing harshly, Jenny glared up at her husband.  "Your little Angel is not a bastard," she said, her voice thick with scorn.  "I sure as hell wouldn’t have ever had the brat if he wasn’t your issue.  Do you think I wanted him?  Do you think I wanted to get fat and have to listen to his constant complaining?  I did it for the money.  For your money and you can be damned certain that you’re going to give me a lot of it if you ever want to see him again."

With a growl, Holtz lifted his wife off the floor and slammed her into the wall, causing the back of her head to crack loudly against the wood.//  

"Yeah," Angel said dryly, shaking off the unbidden memory, "she was real smart when she had me."

Holtz was quiet as he studied his son’s face.  If Angel hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was something close to remorse that momentarily stole over the old man’s grizzled features.  But Angel knew him too well for that.  Holtz Roarke prided himself on his ruthlessness.  There was no room for regret.  That was a lesson he had taught his son very early.

Holtz coughed loudly, clearing his throat.  "Well?" he prompted harshly.

"Neither," Angel bit out.  "No third parties, it just didn't work out."

Smiling sardonically, Holtz said, "I don't believe you, boy.  But keep your secrets, I'll find out the truth eventually."

Angel fumed quietly.  He knew it wasn't an idle threat, his father's network of spies and informants was legendary.  Angel had his suspicions about Buffy’s infidelity, ones so strong it had led to their subsequent separation.  But he had no hard proof, much to his chagrin.  And Buffy still maintained her innocence no matter how hard he pressed.

His own innocence was an entirely different matter.  Part of Angel secretly hoped that she had taken back her wayward lover.  The idea that he had suspected her of something untrue was too horrible to contemplate.  It would mean that he truly was the monster she had accused him of being.

---

"Buffy?"

She turned quickly, but her spirits sank as she saw who was calling her name.  Riley was not at the top of her list of people to see.  She had long since forgiven him for deserting her at the altar - secretly thanking him in fact - but he seemed to bring her nothing but trouble.  She'd been planning on a quiet day of studying in the park not far from her apartment building, but her peaceful moment had been only that, a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern as he jogged up to where she sat with her algebra book.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Buffy replied, "I'm fine.  Why would you think otherwise?"

Riley smiled in that condescending way of his and took a seat at the picnic table next to her.  Leave it to him to try and play knight in shining armor when she was in absolutely no mood to be rescued, least of all by him.

"I saw Faith yesterday," Riley said by way of explanation.

"Uh huh?" Buffy answered innocently.

Riley frowned.  "She told me about Xander's opening last week," he said, his voice slightly admonishing.

"What about it?" Buffy asked, continuing her dumb blonde routine.  It never failed to work on him.  He was convinced she was an idiot.  Of course, she returned the favor happily.  Despite their long history, Riley had never bothered to look beneath the surface where Buffy was concerned.

Beginning to get irritated, Riley said, "I know Angel was there.  Are you okay?  Did he hurt you?"

Buffy looked at him incredulously.  "Of course he didn't hurt me," she said, her voice thick with censure.

Giving her a look of disbelief, Riley said, "Don't play it off, Buffy.  I heard those things he said to you.  I know he's capable of violence."  Unconsciously, Riley rubbed at the bump on the bridge of his nose.

Buffy sighed.  Riley had experienced first hand her husband's capacity for violence as well as hearing some of Angel's more colorful and inventive threats.  Angel had attacked Riley, and hurt him badly, breaking his nose and knocking out a few teeth.  He hadn’t even felt bad about it.  Buffy was certain that given another go at it, Angel would gladly pound Riley a second time.  But to suggest that he had raised a hand to her ...  Buffy knew about Angel’s parents’ past.  She knew that his father had often been physically violent.  Holtz hadn’t thought anything of beating his ex-wife in front of their small son and though Angel wouldn’t admit it, Buffy suspected his father had been physically abusive with him as well.  Those events had scarred Angel deeply.  There was no way he would have ever lifted a finger against her in violence.

"He was just angry," she said seriously.  "Angel would never hurt me."

"If you believe that, you're setting yourself up to be a victim," Riley said in his "professor" voice.  He was a GTA in the psychology department at UCLA and he never let anyone forget it.

Buffy growled and snapped her textbook shut as she rose to her feet.  Staring down at him she growled, "I am *not* a victim, Riley.  I was married to the man for seven years and I know for certain that he would never harm me.  I know what you heard him say, but it was all for show."

Riley didn't look convinced, but he backed down.  "I just ... I've known you for so long, Buffy.  I know how trusting you are.  I would hate to see you hurt again."

"What?" she snapped.  "You mean you don’t want him to hurt me the way you hurt me?  Trust me, Angel didn’t abandon me because I wouldn’t sleep with him."

Riley flushed.  Eternally the Boy Scout, he would feel guilty for deserting her for the rest of his life.  Good.  She only wished that Angel was as susceptible to guilt.

/~No~/ she thought sharply, she didn't wish that.  She would never attempt to manipulate her husband the way she did Riley.  Riley could take it, Angel couldn’t.  Angel had a hard life despite all the money and power.  Love, compassion, tenderness, they were things no one had ever shown him, least of all his parents.  Angel was one of the most closed off, distrustful human beings Buffy had ever known.  Somehow, she managed to get inside him, to make him feel something.  She had loved him and he had loved her back, maybe not with complete abandon, but it was the fullest of which he was capable.  Riley was happy and articulate, he wore his emotions on his sleeve.  Angel was closed up and closed off, deeply guarded and reserved.  Still, Buffy knew that she had the ability to wound Angel a thousand times more deeply than she could Riley.  Riley had the ability to bounce back, to recover.  Angel did not.  He had been burned one time too many, betrayed by those who were supposed to love and protect him.

Picking up her backpack, Buffy quickly shoved her books inside.  Riley got to his feet and stood around nervously, obviously looking for something to say to placate her anger.  To her eternal relief, he kept his mouth shut.  Without a word, Buffy stormed off to her sensible Japanese car, the only mutual asset she'd taken with her when her marriage had crumbled.

"Buffy," Riley half called, half whined behind her.

She didn't turn, instead piling all of her things in the car and driving off.  The irony of the fact that she was furious with Riley for making accusations about Angel was not lost on her.  She was upset enough with Angel to strangle him herself, but if anyone else tried the same, she'd defend him to the end.   Her husband was spoiled and self-righteous and perfectly capable of acting like an overgrown three-year-old when he didn't get his way, but he was not abusive and even his faults were not without reason.  He had been taught that loving someone meant letting them hurt you, physically and emotionally.  He had learned to keep his distance, to trust no one but himself.  At first, Buffy had thought he was just self-centered, but as she delved deeper, she learned that it was simply a form of protection.  Underneath it all, he was the terrified little boy looking for someone who would keep their promises, protect him, love him.  After she peeled back all the armor, he was hesitant but gentle and sweet and loving ...

But that was all years ago.  Before she took the love he had given her in an act of ultimate trust and used it as a weapon.  Buffy sighed.  Even if Riley's intentions were good, she still resented his prying.  No one knew the real reason behind the breakup, Buffy wasn't even sure she knew herself what had happened.  All she knew was that she had wounded Angel more than either of them had ever thought possible.

Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment building, Buffy grabbed her book bag and nearly sprinted up to the fourth floor apartment she shared with Willow before breaking down into tears.  Willow was gone, busy at work and Buffy was secretly glad.  She didn't enjoy having an audience for her little spells.  She cried long and hard for all of the bittersweet memories that she kept with her day after day, for all of the "what ifs", for all of the pain.  It was a good long while before her sobs finally quieted.  She drew in harsh, ragged breaths.  Wiping at her eyes, she blew her nose loudly.

She'd been plagued by these violent mood swings since the first miscarriage.  It had taken her months to pull it together again, but she eventually had with Angel's help.  He'd been incredibly supportive and understanding, finding compassion and patience that neither of them had known he possessed.  Buffy's breath caught as another sob broke from her throat at the memory.  Nobody knew Angel the way she did.  No one.  Not his family, not his friends, not his employees.  When they were alone he could be so loving and tender.  He'd let her see a side of himself that the rest of the world wasn't aware existed.

Several years into their marriage, they'd decided to try to have a child again.  The first time had been an accident, but the second pregnancy was planned.

//Buffy’s expression was pensive as she looked her husband up and down.  He felt her watching him and set down the financial magazine he was leafing through.  "What?" he asked cautiously.

"I’ve been thinking ... " she said quietly.

Angel nodded, scooting closer to her on the bed.  She looked at him, entranced by the way the light played on his bare chest.  He pulled her close, cradling her against his body tenderly.  He kissed the top of her head.

"Thinking about what?" he asked.

She sighed heavily and pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes.  "The first baby," she said, her voice catching.

Angel’s face was a mask of concern as he touched her face lightly.  "Buffy?" he asked anxiously, worried that she was slipping into a depression again.

She smiled, trying to reassure him.  "I’m not upset," she said.  She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to gauge how she thought he was going to react.  "I was wondering if maybe it was the right time for us to try again," she said, unable to look in his eyes.

He put his finger under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.  He was smiling broadly.  "You want to have a baby?" he asked.

Buffy bit into her bottom lip again.  Cautiously, she nodded.

His smile grew.

Buffy’s brow furrowed as she looked at him and shock played across her features.  "Are you ... happy about this?" she asked.

He laughed and squeezed her.  "Why are you looking at me like you’re waiting for me to get upset?" he asked.  "Of course I’m happy about this."  Quickly he added.  "I mean, if we can’t have children it won’t be the end of the world, but if you want one, I’m not opposed to trying."

Slowly, Buffy smiled at him.  "You really want a baby?" she asked.

Angel looked at her seriously.  "Yes," he said.  "If you do, I do."

"I do," Buffy said.

Angel smiled.  "Well, then so do I."

Her expression was still one of slight disbelief and Angel sobered.  "Why don’t you think I want one?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged and looked away.  She knew Angel didn’t like to be reminded of his past.

"Buffy?" he prompted.

Reluctantly, she met his eyes.  "I just ... you’ve mentioned some of the stuff that happened to you when you were little.  The first pregnancy wasn’t planned, so there never was a really a question of whether or not you wanted it.  I just didn’t know if you would want to be a father."

Angel looked at her, his expression grave.  "My childhood was a horror show," he admitted.  "If you had asked me six years ago if I would ever want a child, I would have told you no, unequivocally.  But now ... with you.  It’s different.  We aren’t my parents.  You sure as hell would be a thousand times better mother than mine.  I think we could make it work."

Buffy smiled at him, tears glistening in her eyes.  "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied, pulling her close for a kiss.//

They read books, consulted with the doctor and everything seemed fine.  They had *a lot* of fun trying to get pregnant.  Angel seemed to take his job very seriously and Buffy had no complaints when he would show up in the middle of the afternoon when he was supposed to be in a board meeting.  They conceived after only two months of trying and the pregnancy was progressing normally.  They made plans, talked about what they were going to name their son or daughter.  Angel joked that Fescue would be a wonderful name for their child because he was convinced he or she had been conceived in their back yard.  Buffy vetoed the name although she suspected that he was right about the place of conception.  Either the backyard or his office at work.  Buffy hoped it was the backyard.  Deskblotter seemed even worse a name than Fescue.

Things were going wonderfully for the Roarkes which of course was when everything went to Hell.  One of Angel's former lovers, Darla insinuated herself back into his life in the guise of friendship.

There was trouble from the get-go.  Buffy openly loathed the interloper.  Darla was one of Angel’s oldest friends and confidantes, one of the few people he actually trusted.  Angel was cautious and guarded.  He did not make friends or lingering attachments easily.  Years of practice gave him faith in his instincts.  He trusted Darla.  She was a friend.  The fact that she was a former lover didn’t mean anything to him.  Their relationship was long over, he valued her as a confidant, but nothing more.  His heart belonged to Buffy.  She was the center of his world.  Even at their most involved, his affection for Darla hadn’t come anywhere close to matching what he felt for his wife.  He and Darla were much better as friends.  He enjoyed her company, her ruthless humor.  She grew up in the same world he had.  They had a shared history.

Buffy had no warm and fuzzy feelings towards Darla.  It was war from the moment they met.  In front of Angel, Darla was a paragon of respectability and propriety.  In private, she was evil incarnate.  The bitch had been completely open with Buffy about the fact that she intended to steal her husband.

Buffy had been in a rage, bristling at the mere mention of the other woman's name, but Angel seemed incapable of seeing what a monster Darla was.  He trusted Darla and thought Buffy was simply overreacting.  He blamed it on hormones, convinced her jealousy was unfounded.  He was wounded that she did not trust him.

// "This is insanity, Buffy," he said, his temper short.  "You honestly expect me to believe that Darla told you she plans to take me away from you?"

"She did," Buffy said, incredibly wounded by the fact that he did not believe her.

"You're just overwrought," he said patronizingly.  "You need rest.  You haven't been sleeping and that isn't good for the baby."

"So what?  Now I'm a bad mother on top of being a liar?" she demanded, getting progressively more upset.

"I didn't say that," he said softly, trying to appease her.  "You just need to take it easy."

"I can't take it easy with that woman in our house!" she screamed.

He shook his head and looked at her as if he didn’t even know her.  "I love you," he said, his voice sounding oddly defeated.  "You know that no one could ever come between us."

She glared at him.  "I want her out, now."

Angel looked at her desperately.  "You can’t be serious," he said.

"You have no idea how serious I am," she snarled.  "Either Darla goes or I and the baby go."  //

Too late, Buffy discovered the chain of events her ultimatum set off.  Desperate, Darla had resorted to playing as dirty as possible.  When they had started dating, Buffy had been put off by  Angel’s drinking, especially after he confided in her that his father had been an alcoholic for nearly thirty years.  As a caveat of her agreeing to date him, she had insisted that he give up drinking.  At the time, it had seemed a small price to pay and he had done as she requested without a second thought.  But in spite of his promise, that night, Angel was upset, stressed to his limits, worried about his wife’s mental and physical health and about their child.  Darla, the good friend, suggested they go out for a few drinks before she left town.  Angel eventually agreed and Darla managed to turn the few drinks into a few bottles.

When Buffy burst in to their bedroom, the scene was very compromising.  In Angel's defense, he didn't appear to be an active participant in the events, too intoxicated to even understand what was happening.  However, Buffy understood.  She physically attacked Darla, blind with anger.  Wesley had to pull the two apart, after which Buffy collapsed.
 
Buffy woke in the hospital the next morning.  A disheveled looking Angel explained to her in a weary voice that she lost the baby.  The next week was a complete blur as Buffy became a virtual zombie.  Angel kept a constant vigil by her side, too guilty to leave her alone.  Four weeks after the loss of the child, an expert in reproductive medicine informed the Roarkes in a somber voice that Buffy would be unable to bear children.  The information pulled Buffy out of her haze and sent her straight into a tailspin.

She refused to talk to a therapist or even see the family doctor.  As her mental state deteriorated, she became progressively more abusive to her husband.  Angel had always been the protector, the provider, but he was completely unequipped to deal with a problem of the magnitude with which Buffy was dealing.   Weeks stretched into months until a particularly violent outburst in which Buffy held Angel personally responsible for the deaths of both of their children.  She raged for hours.

//  "It's all your fault!" she screamed, hysterical.

"Buffy, you need to calm down," he said in a near whisper, inching towards her.  "If we can just talk about this rationally."

She was seething with rage, as he attempted to grab her, she grabbed a glass figurine the size of her fist that sat on her nightstand.  She threw it at him as hard as she could and managed to clip him in the temple.  He flinched and stopped. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

"You and your whore are to blame for this!" she yelled.  "You killed my babies!"

On the last word, she dissolved into tears, crumbling to a heap on the floor.  Angel watched her, helpless.  His presence only seemed to enrage her more.  Neither of them had been eating or sleeping.  And it was all his fault.  He walked over to the door, but did not go through it.  Turning, he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to huddle on the floor.   From a distance, he watched Buffy sob pitifully, unable to do anything to help. //

In the aftermath, Angel retreated into himself.  He could no longer deal with her problems.  The entire situation threatened to overwhelm him, to destroy what little was left of his heart.  He did the only thing he could.  He walled himself off from everyone and everything.   When he met her, Buffy had been a vibrant, warm, loving creature.  He was the one who had done this to her.  He had poisoned her.  Watching the vengeful, wraithlike being his wife had become, Angel wondered if the same thing had happened to his mother.  Had Jenny been a gentle, fragile creature turned into a monster by his father’s cruelty?  Had Holtz ruined Jenny the way he had ruined Buffy?   He remembered his parents.  He remembered just how much their relationship had deteriorated before they finally called it quits.  He remembered being taken to see her in the hospital after a particularly vicious beating.  He had hurt Buffy, he knew that, but he didn’t have to make it a repeat of his parents’ relationship.  He would not let it come to that.  Seeing him exacerbated her problems, so Angel made sure she wouldn’t have to look at him.

He was personally overseeing his father’s business in England when Willow managed to push her way past the housekeeper and pick the lock to Buffy's bedroom.  The scene Willow found had chilled her to the bone.  A call to 911 and Buffy was admitted against her wishes for immediate medical treatment.  The usually tiny blonde was deathly thin and not in a healthy mental state.  Willow called Angel in England, but it was weeks before he finally returned, before he could trust himself to see her.

When he arrived home, he found Buffy still physically weak, but mentally stronger.  She was no longer in either a fog or a rage.  She was mostly quiet, deeply depressed but no longer abusive or suicidal.  After a month in a live-in treatment facility, she came home to see what was left of her life.

Her relationship with Angel was deeply strained.  He continued to blame himself for her miscarriages and the entire episode with Darla.  Buffy was still too fragile, too wrapped up in healing herself to deal with his pain.  They became strangers, living in different worlds, sleeping in separate bedrooms.  They purposely avoided seeing one another, communicating through Angel’s personal assistant, Wesley.

By the time Buffy found her way back to herself, Angel was out of her reach, physically and emotionally walled off from the world. Their physical relationship was dead and buried.  They hadn't been intimate since the beginning of the whole Darla incident.

Angel started spending more and more time with his good for nothing half brother, William.  Buffy knew he was drinking again, hanging out with the shady friends he’d had before they started dating.  He did everything he could to bury his pain with vices.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that if he picked up one bad habit again, he had probably picked them all up.  Buffy didn't know for sure, but she seriously suspected that Angel had taken lovers.  He was a healthy male with extreme physical appetites that she remembered well.  Given the fact that she wasn't sating them, she figured someone else was.

The realization was difficult for Buffy, but she accepted it as part of her punishment, confident that she would one day be able to win back his trust and love.  She was placated by the fact that he obviously hadn't given his heart to any of his new lovers.  He still looked every bit as miserable as she herself felt.  She took some measure of solace in that.

As Angel returned to his old friends, so did Buffy.  She began spending more and more time with Willow, her live-in boyfriend Xander, and made a new friend in Faith.  They had undoubtedly thought it odd that Buffy went out so often without Angel, but none of them had said anything openly.

Out of the blue, Riley walked back into her life.  Apparently things fell apart rather quickly with Cordelia, and he was in Los Angeles trying to build a new life.  He had a GTA appointment at UCLA, where Buffy was working on her bachelor's degree.  Despite all of the painful history between them, Buffy and Riley started spending time together.  Their past was simply too intertwined and they were both too far from home to stay estranged.  They were friends and Buffy took comfort in that relationship, especially since she assumed Angel was largely indifferent to anything she did.

Buffy found out how badly she miscalculated Angel’s emotions the night he discovered she was friends with Riley.  Months of cool apathy dissolved into maddening rage as Angel attacked her former fiancé, mindlessly bellowing a litany of threats at both of them.  Angel pulled her bodily out of the stunned college eatery and dragged her back to their home.  In the hours that followed he accused her of multiple infidelities with everyone from  Riley to Xander to Wesley.

Buffy had been too weary to defend herself as she watched him rage.  What had happened to the sweet tempered man she married, the one who swept her off her feet like Prince Charming out of a fairy tale?  She had no idea who the irate stranger before her was.  Part of her died as she realized that she was the one who had made him into what he was.  She listened dispassionately as he informed her that their marriage was over.  She watched with dead eyes as he destroyed most of her possessions.  None of it had seemed real.

/~But it was~/ Buffy thought as she blew her nose for the thousandth time.  She lost two children, and in her mindless grief laid the blame for their deaths at her husband's feet.  He retaliated by retreating into himself so far that she no longer knew him.  He betrayed and abandoned her while she sat by and accepted it because she thought she deserved to be punished.

But it wasn't over yet.  The horror that was the dissolution of their marriage was going to stretch out for months and every one of these painful events was going to be dredged up and made public record.  All for the sake of the Roarke fortune.  Buffy sighed as she looked at her left hand, the fourth finger now conspicuously bare.  Angel had ripped off the platinum Claddagh ring the night he kicked her out of their home.  For all she knew, he threw it in the ocean or gave it to a new girlfriend.

She laughed bitterly.  Angel's money didn't mean anything to her.  Buffy had been of very moderate means most of her life.  Pinching pennies was nothing new.  But she'd be damned if she'd let him annul their marriage and pretend that they'd never shared a life together, pretend that he'd never loved her, that their children hadn't been real.

Aside from the night that he dragged her out of the restaurant, Angel had treated her with an icy politeness that made her burn with anger.  His rage and his passion she could deal with, but not his indifference.  She wanted to elicit a response from him, and the surest way to do that was through his wallet.

With a final hiccup, Buffy rose from the couch to give Willow a call at work.  Perhaps she'd be up for seeing a movie later.  Lord knew Buffy couldn't sit around rehashing her past ghosts all evening.  She'd had her pity party and now it was time to dry her tears.

---

Buffy frowned as she placed the last bag of groceries into the trunk of her car.  Willow had been unable to get away for a movie and for complete lack of something better to do, Buffy had gone grocery shopping.  It had seemed more tempting than Must See TV or studying for her midterms.  Wheeling around a cart and looking through boxes of muffin mixes and cake decorations wasn't exactly what she wanted to be doing with her evening, but since Wills doubted she'd be home before morning, Buffy had improvised.  It wasn't odd for the owner of The Book 'n Bean to pull an all nighter doing inventory or bookwork.

Sitting at home moping was not a luxury Buffy would allow herself more than once a day.  She'd already reached her tears quota, and now it was time to bake.  By the time Wills got home, there'd be a plethora of breakfast items awaiting her.

Closing the lid on the trunk, Buffy hopped in the car and pulled out onto the heavily traversed street.  Caught up in her forbidden angst over Angel, she never saw the car coming.

---

"Miss, miss!" someone was yelling frantically.

Buffy came awake very slowly, irritated at the prolonged shrieking noise she couldn't place.  Blinking several times, she realized she was slumped against the steering wheel of her car, leaning on the horn.  With great effort, she pushed herself back in the seat and the noise stopped.

Awareness came to her gradually, but she eventually realized she must have been in a car wreck.  She wasn't sure how bad it had been since her airbag hadn't deployed.  /~Of course, maybe her car was just a piece of shit~/ she thought.  Buffy laughed at the thought and quickly regretted her actions.  Her head was killing her.

---

"So it's not broken?" Buffy asked the young intern impatiently.

"Ma'am, it's a very bad sprain.  You're going to need to stay off it for a couple of weeks."

Buffy growled under her breath as the intern scurried away.   This was the last thing she needed.  Now much more alert, she'd been checked over by the doctors and pronounced fit, except for the sprained ankle.  She also had a cut on her forehead, but it hadn't required stitches.

"Ma'am, I need to have a word with you."

Buffy turned her head and saw the police officer standing at the end of the bed on which she was sitting.  Of course, she thought wryly, he would need a statement about the wreck.  Good luck, Buffy thought.  She didn't have any information of use.  She’d been too busy thinking about Angel to notice anything.

"Sure officer," she replied.

"I really hate to do this, ma'am, but I'm going to have to take you in."

Buffy watched in shock as the police officer placed a set of handcuffs around her wrists.  The officer truly looked sorry for what he was doing, and noting the look of utter confusion on Buffy's face, he explained, "Ma'am, the car you were in was reported stolen several weeks ago."

Buffy's brow furrowed and then she growled again as she realized what had happened.  "That was a mistake," she explained.  "My husband and I are in the middle of a divorce.  He was upset when I took the car and he reported it stolen.  He said he worked out everything with you guys to have the report rescinded."

"I'm afraid he didn't, Ma'am.  We're gonna have to take you to the precinct for holding until all of this gets sorted out."

---

Angel didn't say a word as the statuesque young blonde sidled up next to him at the bar.  She wore a skintight red dress that showed off her voluptuous figure perfectly.  He noted in a detached manner that being obscenely rich and single was rarely boring.  However, he wasn't in the mood for company.

"Drinking alone?" she asked, her voice lightly accented, east coast.

She took careful notice of his attire, dark, lightweight sweater, black slacks.  It all looked perfectly casual, but the exact fit of the clothes betrayed the fact they were expensively tailored.

"For the moment," he answered vaguely, ignoring her approving glance.

"Waiting on your girlfriend?" the girl asked with a provocative smile.

Angel didn't answer.  Carefully looking over his bare fingers, she cocked an eyebrow and pointedly asked, "Or a wife maybe?"

"No," he answered honestly, tiring of her questions, "she's not here tonight."

The blonde laughed lightly.  "Would she be upset if she knew you were talking to me?"

"I doubt it," Angel answered with more than a touch of bitterness, "we're in the middle of a split."

This time the blonde raised both eyebrows.  "What happened?  Did she turn out to be a cold fish?"

Angel smiled wryly.  "No," he said firmly.  "She was the love of my life and I destroyed her."

The answer definitely wasn't what the blonde had been expecting.  She couldn't find a way to turn his response into witty banter, so she gave him a sad, pitying smile.

"Good evening, miss," Angel said dismissively.

The blonde's lips formed into a tiny pout, but she retreated.  Angel swirled his glass, watching the ice cubes and bourbon glint in the dim lighting.  Funny that he could only be completely honest with himself when he was half tanked out of his mind.

At times like these, he knew that it was he, not Buffy who was to blame for the demise of their marriage.  Whether or not she'd slept with her ex-fiancé didn't even matter.  Lord knew he hadn't been faithful to her after the second miscarriage.  Was it any wonder that she'd turned to another man in search of the comfort that her husband was unwilling to provide?  Angel hadn't even been able to bring himself to sleep in the same bed with her after she regained her sense of self.  He'd been too afraid of having her push him away, of having her resent any physical hungers he still had for her.

He spared her his physical attentions because his hunger for her was nothing short of overwhelming.  He was terrified that being intimate with him would remind her of finding him with Darla or worse, a reminder of the fact that their union could never produce a child.  Angel didn't have any idea why he hadn't forced himself to talk to her about it, to ask her openly if she still had any desire for him.  Rejection would have crushed him, but at least he would have known.  He wouldn't be stuck with the lingering question of "what if".

But that question was destined to remain unanswered and in an act of ultimate stupidity, he had attempted to sate his hungers elsewhere.  Up until the moment he cheated on his wife, Angel had never really understood the difference between sex and making love.  As he had taken physical pleasure with the voluptuous brunette, the distinction became clear. He loved Buffy.  Being with her was making love.  Everything else was just sex.  Somehow the realization wasn’t enough.  He kept trying to make it go away.  He kept trying to not pretend that every woman he was with was Buffy.  It never worked.

Tossing back what was left of his drink, he thought back to the first days of their relationship.  Buffy had been so sheltered, so naïve that it was no effort at all to seduce her.  She'd been so helpless, so absolutely trusting that it had nearly broken the heart he hadn’t known he possessed.  Initially, he pursued the relationship as a physical diversion.  She was beautiful and young, he simply wanted to bed her.

//  "What's your name?" he asked.  He’d been watching her all afternoon as she waited on customers and chatted with friends.  Coffee shops and bookstores weren’t his speed, however, he’d been dragged inside by his friend, Penn.  Now, Penn was gone and he still lingered.  He wasn’t used to having to chase women, but for this one, he would make an exception.  In the tiny blue sundress, with her long blonde locks loose down her back, she was absolutely stunning.

Her smile was blinding as she looked him up and down.  He was so handsome, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a black dress shirt unbuttoned over a white tanktop.  "Buffy," she said with a surprisingly seductive smile.

He smiled back and her blush intensified and she had to look away.  So beautiful, but also so shy.  She looked like she was straight off the bus.  "What are you doing here, Buffy?" he asked.

She shot him an adorable, exasperated look.  "I *work* here," she said.  "Some people do that, you know."

He laughed.  "You don’t think I work?" he asked.

"It’s two o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday.  With a tan like yours and the car you and your friend drove up in?  No.  I don’t think you work," she said.

Angel whistled softly.  Cute and observant.  Intelligence wasn’t a necessity for his bedpartners, but he did enjoy someone who kept him on his toes.  "You’re right," he said, "but that’s a good thing because I won’t be jeopardizing my employment with all the time I’ll be spending in here."

"All the time?" she asked skeptically.  "I’ve worked here for six months and this is the first time I’ve seen you."

"But not the last," he assured her.  //

The tryst hadn't turned out the way he expected.  The more he got to know Buffy the more amazing she became.  There was absolutely no pretense to her, none of the female manipulations with which he was so familiar.  It became glaringly obvious that a fling with him would probably wound her irreparably.  But just as he came to that realization, he came to another about himself.  He didn't want to use her.  He had no desire to do anything to jeopardize her trust and adoration for him.  Buffy was the first person in his life who had ever loved him completely, in spite of all his multiple flaws.

When they finally became intimate, her innocence shocked him to the core.  Who expected to find a nineteen year old virgin with a body like Buffy's?  And a heart.  And a mind.  She was perfect and for the first time in his life, he didn't screw it up.  He didn't play games with her and he didn't lie to her.  She was terrified and upset and ashamed when she found out she was pregnant, but Angel had used it as the perfect excuse to tie her to himself for the rest of her life.

// "Buffy?" Angel called.  He could hear her sobbing, but couldn’t tell where she was.  He ran through the apartment and found her on the bathroom floor, crying.  He crouched down in front of her.  "Baby, what’s wrong?" he asked frantically.

She sobbed louder and handed him a little plastic stick.  He looked at it.  "What’s this?" he asked, confused.

She stopped crying and looked at him, her irritation almost comical after her near hysterical state.  "It’s a pregnancy test," she said bluntly.

He dropped the stick like he’d been burned and then sheepishly looked at his girlfriend.  "Pregnancy?" he asked carefully.

She started sobbing again.  "My mom is going to *kill* me," she whimpered, looking totally miserable.

Angel sat back on the floor and watched Buffy cry.  Pregnant.  She was pregnant.  They were going to be parents.  He knew Buffy well enough to know that for her there would be no other alternative.  She would have the baby and keep it.  He couldn’t lose her, so he was going to be a father.  Terror threatened to overwhelm him, but he remained absolutely still.  He loved Buffy and she was going to have his baby.

The terror melted away and he pulled Buffy into his arms.  She didn’t fight him, burrowing into his embrace.  "She's not going to kill you," he said softly.

"Oh yes she will," Buffy said, her voice sounding slightly hysterical.  "Trust me, having a grandchild born out of wedlock will not make Joyce a happy woman and my dad will probably come after you with a gun."

Angel took a deep breath and hugged Buffy tighter.  "He can’t kill me," Angel said firmly, "and the baby won't be born out of wedlock."

Her confusion was palpable.  "What do you mean?"

"Marry me."

She was quiet for several incredibly long heartbeats, searching his face for some sign that he was joking.  "Is that a proposal?" she asked.

"Marry me," he repeated, this time smiling as he said it.

Her answering smile was slow, but it intensified exponentially.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Yes."  //

They eloped to Vegas without telling anyone about their plans.  It was one of the happiest moments of Angel's life, second only to the day Buffy found out she was pregnant several years into their marriage.  The first baby had never seemed real to Angel, Buffy had lost it so soon after the wedding.  He'd been too overwhelmed with caring for his wife to deal with the loss of his child.  Only now, after he'd lost everything, did the full impact of the situation hit him.

He was alone, utterly and completely.

Sure he had his father, and even William, but they were a pitiful excuse for a family.  Neither of them had ever loved him in the unconditional manner Buffy had, the way their children would have. He threw it all away in a self-righteous tantrum that was completely hypocritical.  And now not only was he not with the woman he would always love more than life itself, but he was embroiled in a bitter war with her for control of his family's fortune.  He knew Buffy didn't care about the money, that she was merely making a point.

Surprisingly, he found that when it came down to it, he didn't care about the money either.  But his father did.  Given the fact that Holtz was just about the only thing he had left in this world, Angel felt the need to try and please the man.  He had always been driven by that desire, but to date, he had never been able to fulfill his father’s expectations.  He couldn’t stand the thought of having to explain to the man that half of the family fortune would be going to Buffy.  He didn’t think he could stand anymore of Holtz’s loathing censure.

With a weary sigh, Angel paid the tab and headed for his car.  So much for a relaxing and diverting evening.  Upon opening the door, he realized his phone was ringing.  With much irritation, he answered it.

---

It took Wesley nearly an hour to track down his employer on his way home from the bar, and though Angel tried to expedite the process, Buffy had been in the holding cell for nearly two hours before he had everything straightened out.  He was waiting in the lobby when they brought her out.  He cringed at the look on her face.

She was mad, more than mad, she looked ready to kill him.  But she also looked wonderful.  Gods he missed her.  Hard as he tried at times, his memory never did justice to the reality of her beauty.  Her light floral print skirt was wrinkled and slightly dirty from her taxing evening, and there was a spot of blood on her blue shirt, probably from the cut on her forehead, but she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Trying to assist her as she walked with a pronounced limp, Angel found himself pushed away roughly.  "I can do it by myself!" Buffy hissed, looking as amenable as a wet cat.

"Buffy, I'm sorry," Angel said, doing his best to grovel.

"Sorry?" she bit out.  "I was *arrested* because you forgot to take care of things like you promised!"

"I thought it had been taken care of," he explained.  "You can't honestly think I wanted you arrested."

"Oh really?" she sniped.  "Maybe I think that's exactly what you wanted."

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

"I don't have a fucking clue how your twisted mind works," Buffy retorted impudently.

Angel winced at the cut.  She had a very valid reason to be pissed at him.  The car was the only one of their mutual possessions that she'd taken, and she’d been arrested for her troubles. To top it all off, now she didn't even have a way to get around.

"Let me give you a ride home," he said as gently as he could.

"I don't want you near me," she replied coldly, pulling her arm out of his grasp again as she tried to limp on one leg.

"Don't be a brat," he admonished.  "I'm here, I have a car.  You can barely walk.  How do you think you're going to get home?"

"I'll call Faith," Buffy replied, her chin sticking out proudly.

Angel's brow furrowed.  "Where's Willow?"

Scowling, Buffy replied, "She's going to be at work all night.  Some people have to do that, you know.  Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth."

Angel rolled his eyes at her pitiful attempt to insult him.  "You're going to call Faith, who lives clear across town, to come and get you while I'm standing right here?" he asked in irritation.

"Yes," Buffy replied firmly.

"It's almost midnight," he pointed out, "you really want to inconvenience her like that?  I'll bet she has to work tomorrow."

Buffy scowled at her husband, but she knew he had a point.  It would be selfish, and rude, to call Faith when Angel was right here.  "Fine," she said in a huff, "you can give me a ride home."

Angel sighed inwardly as he helped her hobble towards the car.  It was slow going and with a growl of frustration, he picked her up and carried her to the parking lot.  Buffy bristled, but she let him carry her.  It had been a taxing day to say the least and she wasn't sure she had the strength to make it to the car.

"Wait," Buffy said with a jump.  "We have to go back, I don't know where my backpack is."

"It's right here," Angel said, motioning to the bag thrown over his shoulder.

Buffy sighed and slumped against his strong frame.

"So what's the story on the books?" Angel asked as he made his way out of the building towards the parking lot.

Buffy scowled.  No doubt he'd gone through her things as if he had every right.  "If you must know," she said haughtily, "I'm going to school."

"School?" Angel asked, his brow furrowing.  "I didn't think you liked school."

"I didn't," Buffy noted wryly.  "At least I didn't like it when I was nineteen.  I guess I've changed because I'm actually enjoying it."

Angel smiled gently.  "What are you studying?"

"Right now just basic courses," she said.  "I think I'm going to go into education.  I'd like to work with little kids."

Angel's heart clenched at her quiet admission.  Buffy probably thought teaching was the only way she'd be able to be near children.  He was quiet as he continued walking towards the car, until a realization hit him.  "How long have you been going to school?" he asked.  It had to be the middle of the semester.

"Since before you kicked me out," Buffy said, slightly mollified by the fact that it had been such a shock to him.

Angel swallowed hard.  "I didn't know that," he said quietly.

"That's why I was with Riley that night," Buffy said, taking advantage of the fact that he was listening rather than lecturing.  "We were studying.  He was helping me with my algebra.  I would have told you that if you'd given me a chance to explain."

Angel was quiet on the remainder of the walk to the car.  When they reached their destination, he gently helped Buffy in before sliding behind the wheel.  "You know," he said as he turned over the key, "this is the most civil conversation we've had in almost a year."

"Yeah," Buffy said quietly, "I know."

The drive to her apartment was made in silence.  Buffy didn't bother asking Angel how he knew where she lived.  It wasn't a shock that he'd kept tabs on her.  Spying seemed to run in his family.  After pulling into a parking space, Angel once again lifted his wife from the car.  This time she didn't complain as he held her. Upon reaching the door, Buffy pressed the code that kept non-tenants out of the building after hours and directed him towards the bank of elevators.  As much as she would have liked to watch him walk up four flights of stairs while carrying her, she wasn't in the mood to rekindle their mutual animosity.

When they entered the elevator, much to Buffy's surprise and - oddly - her relief, Angel didn't put her down.  She couldn't help herself.  All of her months of longing washed over her in a moment and she lay her head on his shoulder, breathing in the achingly familiar scent of her lost mate.  She was hyper-aware of his strong arms around her, of the hard expanse of chest to which she was pinned.  He still felt exactly the same.  Though her mind knew the score, her heart and body only knew that they missed him more than they could bear.

Angel tensed as a tiny hiccupping sob broke from Buffy's chest.  He screwed his eyes shut tightly as he felt her tears wet the fabric of his lightweight sweater.  He knew what was wrong because he felt the pain with equal intensity.  Being so close was too familiar, too right to ignore.  But there was still so much pain between them, so many disturbing memories.  Turning his head, he brushed his cheek against hers as he whispered, "Don't cry, baby.  Please don't cry."

His gentle plea only served to make the tears flow faster, and in short order, Buffy was sobbing openly as she clung to him in desperation.  The elevator doors opened and Angel blindly made his way to the door of her apartment.  Suddenly aware of where they were, Buffy pulled herself together enough to locate her keys.  Angel took the proffered key chain and opened the door.

Buffy's weeping did not subside once they were in the safety of her apartment.  If anything it intensified.  For long moments, Angel simply held her, wanting desperately to offer her comfort.

"Baby, which one is your bedroom?" he asked quietly, his lips brushing gently against her forehead as he spoke.

Buffy sobbed.  She didn't want him to take her to her room because it would only hasten his departure.  For all her weeping, she was content to be held by him, to pretend that he still loved her as much as she loved him.

When she didn't answer, Angel asked again.  Still, she did not respond.  Angel knew the source of her reticence.  She didn't want to be parted.  Fortunately for her, he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere.

Bending his head to slide his lips along hers, Angel kissed her gently.  Buffy gasped as his flesh touched hers and she leaned her head back.  As her lips slowly parted, Angel deepened the kiss.  They clung together like that for long moments, slowly exploring the textures of their lost mates.

Pulling his head back far enough to look into her eyes, Angel asked again, "Which one is your bedroom?"

One look in his eyes and Buffy knew exactly why he was asking.  "The one on the right," she answered quietly, having no idea if she was doing the right thing or not.

Angel smiled against her lips, unable to disguise his joy at the fact that she still wanted him.  Upon entering the room, he shut and locked the door and then set Buffy on her feet.  He studied the sanctuary of his wife's new bedroom and it shamed him deeply.  Gone were all the trappings that had adorned the room they shared eons ago.  No giant four poster mahogany bed, no luxuriously soft imported sheets, none of the expensive jewelry he'd loved to shower her with.  The room was small but functional.  A desk and nightstand were crowded against one wall.  Her bed was tiny, looking like something meant for children.  Of course, with her diminutive stature, it was more than big enough, but it definitely didn't leave any room to share.

"Sorry," she said, noticing him looking at her single bed, "I haven't had to worry about company."

"It’s okay," he replied huskily, dipping his head to kiss her again.  "I'm sure we'll make do."

Buffy sighed tremulously as his lips pressed against the flesh of her neck.  Despite the tension she could feel suffusing his body, his kisses were gentle, his lips tender, almost reverent.  Picking her up, he laid them both down on her tiny bed.  The space was cramped and his legs hung off the end, but he couldn't imagine anywhere more inviting.

He took infinite care to wring every response from her lips and tongue as he moved to crouch over his mate.  Buffy wanted to weep at his hesitant treatment.  His large body loomed over hers, yet his presence was not dominating.  He wasn't possessing so much as protecting, almost as if he understood exactly how vulnerable and raw she felt in spite of, or maybe because of, all the time that had passed.

He was her only lover and despite his accusations to the contrary it seemed he understood that all too well.  He was the last person with whom she had been intimate and that had been almost a year earlier, before Darla, before the loss of their child, before he told her to leave ...  He wanted her with an unearthly hunger, but he would not rush things.

Buffy sighed as he moved off her and rolled them both onto their sides facing one another as his strong arms cradled her against the muscled wall of his chest.  He placed butterfly kisses over the abrasion on her forehead, and Buffy burrowed into the solid warmth of his body.

"Are you sure you want this, baby?" he asked quietly.  "I know you've had a bad night."

She laughed lightly.  "It's getting better."

Angel groaned and his mouth found hers again.  "Let me make love to you," he breathed against her lips, his entire body taut with need.

Buffy nodded her assent, knowing she was probably making a huge mistake.  If this didn't lead to something more, how was she going to watch him walk away again?  As one of his large hands sifted through the material of her skirt, she decided she didn't care.  It was about the moment and at that moment she loved him and she wanted him.  Tomorrow be damned.

As his hand slid up the outside of her thigh, working around to gently grasp the swell of her buttock, Buffy moved against him involuntarily, feeling her body respond to his touch.  With a groan, Angel worked the tiny zipper of her skirt and pulled the material down her legs, tossing it on the floor.  He paused a moment to inspect her swollen, blackened ankle.

"Are you okay?" he asked, mindful to not jostle her wounded appendage.

"It's only a sprain," she answered, suddenly very conscious of being clad only in her white bikini underwear and her light cotton top.

It appeared that Angel too was aware of her semi-nakedness, and he set about remedying the situation.  Buffy didn't resist as he pulled at the hem of her shirt until it too lay on the floor in a heap.  Silently cursing herself for her overly sensible choice in undergarments, Buffy shot her mate a withering gaze.  A matching white cotton bra and panty set weren't exactly designed for seduction.

Angel didn't seem to mind in the least.  He smiled his beautiful lopsided smile in return and rose from the bed to shed his clothes.  Buffy's mouth went dry as she looked at his powerful body, so familiar yet so foreign.  He was thinner, she noted.  His body had a leanness that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him like this. The corded muscles of his frame were etched in harsh relief.  It was as if he could no longer abide any softness.  Buffy silently wondered if her own body reflected the same sentiment.

Joining her on the bed once again, Angel startled at the shocked look on her face.  He followed her line of vision to the simple silver chain around his neck.  It wasn't the chain, he knew, it was the ring strung on it.

"Is that?" she asked quietly, gently fingering the ring.

He closed his eyes, but answered, "Yes.  It's yours."

Buffy smiled wistfully.  "I thought you would have gotten rid of it," she said.

Desperate to change the subject, Angel frowned as he studied her skin.  Looking down, Buffy saw that there were deep bruises on her flesh from the wreck and while not particularly painful, they were rather unsightly.  As she attempted to cover herself, Angel stopped her, dropping his head to press feather light kisses to the abused skin.  Buffy gasped, instinctively reaching for his shoulders as he crouched over her, kissing along the tops of her breasts.  Gently, he reached behind her, undoing the clasp before sliding the white cotton down her arms.

With a moan so soft, Buffy wasn't sure she'd heard it, his head moved lower.  The descent continued until he could take one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth.  His tongue reverently traced her areola, laving the flesh gently before he tugged lightly with his teeth. Buffy hissed in pleasure and arched her chest against his mouth in silent entreaty.  He was thrilled at her response, but continued to take his time.  His hand came up to slowly massage her neglected breast as he began to suckle at her sensitive flesh.

Buffy's response was immediate and intense.  Blinded by her growing need, she draped her uninjured leg over his hip, arching against him.  Her movement pressed his engorged cock roughly against the softness of her inner thigh, and he groaned in pleasure.  Shifting his weight onto one arm, he moved his hand from her breast down her body to the apex of her thighs.  He grabbed the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs.  She aided him, shimmying to get free of the material.  Bare at last, she instinctively spread her legs as his skillful fingers sifted lightly through the downy hair covering her sex.

As his digits carefully spread her nether lips for his plundering, Buffy mewled in response, gently kneading the corded muscles of his shoulders.  His explorations were slow and gentle despite the urgency of their combined need.  He took his time, tenderly massaging her sex, emboldened by the honey seeping freely from her body.  As one of his talented fingers slipped inside her sheath, Buffy's mouth fell open in a pant.  Angel met her gaze, staring deeply into her eyes as his thumb slowly circled her slick nub.  Eyes screwing shut of their own accord, Buffy arched against his hand with a whine of need.

The sound was Angel's undoing and before she had to ask, his cock was situated at her entrance.   He didn't plunge into her as he wanted, instead taking deep breaths to calm himself.  When he was once more under control, he bent his head and captured her lips in a demanding kiss.  As her lips parted, his tongue made a gentle foray into her mouth at the same time his hips pressed forward to push his cock ever so slightly inside her warmth.  His game continued for long drawn out minutes, his tongue and cock working in tandem, teasing, mimicking each other's movements until at last both were seated fully inside her welcoming body.

Angel broke off the kiss, resting his forehead gently against hers as they both panted harshly.  The sensation of being one, of being whole again after such a long absence swept over both of them.  The feeling was incredible, but eventually they had to move against one another as the hunger of their flesh won out over the hunger of their souls.

Burying his head in the juncture of her shoulder, Angel thrust against his mate, his movements a seamless glide as she eagerly accepted his engorged flesh.  She arched under him, grasping his shoulders tightly as he continued to stroke in and out of her body.  Buffy mewled again as she felt her crisis fast approaching and Angel did everything in his power to hasten her release, angling his hips to press against her where she needed it the most.  The sensation broke over her like a wave and she arched against him sharply, throwing her head back as a cry of release tore from her throat.

Angel's movements intensified as ecstasy overtook his mate and soon he was pounding against her, their flesh meeting with a wet slapping noise as her inner muscles rippled around his sex.  The feel and scent of her was too much and with a harsh shout, he joined her, his muscles cording as his cock touched the mouth of her womb, his thick, warm cum pouring into her liquid depths.

Long moments later, Buffy lay boneless on his chest, the couple having switched positions.  Gently, Angel stroked her back as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.  Idly, she fingered the chain around his neck.

"Sorry," he said with a sleepy laugh.

"'Bout what?" Buffy asked, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"That should have lasted longer," he said with a wry smile.

Buffy grinned, unable to muster the energy to look at him.  "It was perfect," she pronounced.

Angel chuckled silently.  If she wasn't inclined to complain, neither was he.  Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he drifted off to sleep.

---

Hours later, Buffy managed to maneuver herself out from under a sleeping Angel.  The bed really wasn't big enough for him, let alone both of them.  Their second round of lovemaking had left him blissfully unconscious, and she took a moment to study his sleeping form.  He was still sinfully beautiful, but there was a harshness to his face that was new.  Tiny wrinkles had begun to appear at the corners of his eyes.  How many times had Buffy noticed the same things about her own appearance?  Bending over, she placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, but he didn't stir.

As quietly as possible, she removed her robe from her closet and padded out into the kitchen.  She found Willow sitting at the table, reading the paper over a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," Willow said, sounding very tired.  As she looked up at her roommate, she froze.

Buffy realized what she must look like, her hair was going a thousand different directions.  She was hobbling on her sprained ankle, and her face and neck... and a few other parts of her body, had slight abrasions from Angel's unshaven face.

"Interesting evening?" Willow asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You could say that," Buffy murmured as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table.

"Do tell," the redhead prompted with a grin.

Buffy laughed lightly.  "Let's see, first there was the part where I totaled my car, then the hospital,"

"Buffy," Willow gasped, obviously worried.

"No wait," she continued, "it gets better.  Then I got *arrested*."

"Arrested, what for?"

"Grand theft auto," Buffy said wryly.

"You stole someone's car?" Willow asked in confusion.

"Yeah, *mine*."

Willow's brow furrowed and Buffy sighed.  "Angel was pissed when I took the car so he reported it stolen.  He was *supposed* to have taken care of it, but he didn't and after the wreck yesterday, the cops arrested me."

Willow was stunned into silence for several seconds, and then she asked, "So how did you get out of jail?"

"Angel," Buffy replied soberly.  "He came down and sorted things out with the cops ... and then he brought me home."

Willow frowned.  "Angel brought you home?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, refusing to elaborate.

"Okay," the redhead drawled slowly, "so when did he leave?"

Buffy guiltily studied the front page of the paper.

"Buffy?"

"Okay," the blonde huffed, "he's asleep in my room."

"Asleep?" Willow said in a screeched whisper.  "Are you *crazy*?  You just slept with your ex-husband."

"Technically we're still married," Buffy noted without meeting her friend's gaze.

"Technically you're in the middle of a divorce," Willow clarified.

Buffy sighed, bringing her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she wrapped her arms around herself.  "I know, Wills.  I know how bad it looks but ... I was so tired and upset and *lonely*.  And it's been like a *year* since I had sex.  I'm not a nun!  I mean, Angel may be a jerk a lot of the time, but he's still the only guy I've ever slept with.  There's a certain level of comfort being with him."

"Yes," Willow said, "I'm sure there is.  And don't think he doesn't know that."

Buffy frowned.  "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, Willow rubbed her temples.  Raising her head she looked at her friend and said, "When you and Angel first got together, he was like some guy out of a fairy tale."

"Yeah," Buffy said glumly, "your point is?"

"He didn't stay that way, Buffy.  I know that a lot of things happened between the two of you that I don't know about, but I'm not stupid.  I know that there were other women.  I know that he shirked a lot of his responsibilities."

"You're right," Buffy replied stiffly, "there is a lot of stuff you *don't* know."

Willow nodded, accepting her friend's anger, but continued, "I'm not everyone else, Buffy.  I'm your best friend.  You can lie to Faith and Xander and your parents, but don't lie to me.  I saw you that morning I took you to the hospital.  I saw how sick you were.  I also called Angel in England and talked to him.  It was *two weeks* before he came back, Buffy.  Two weeks.  I'm not sure Angel is capable of caring about anyone besides himself."

Buffy blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks.  "You don't know him," she said in a near whisper, not looking at her friend.  "You don't know all of the horrible things his parents did to him, all the horrible things *I* did to him."

"I know you want to believe that," Willow said soberly, "but Angel is a master of manipulation.  It sounds just like him to desert you, to cheat on you, and then to make you blame yourself for what happened.  Last night may have just been part of his game, Buffy."

"Gee," Angel said from where he was leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, "it's nice to know I'm still so popular."

Buffy and Willow both startled at his appearance.  Buffy cringed, fearing how much he'd overheard, but Willow met his hard glare with one of her own.  She didn’t care if he had heard every word she said.  As far as she was concerned, she spoke nothing but the truth.  Angel’s expression remained neutral.  Buffy took in his rumpled appearance, noting the fact that he wore the silver chain outside of his clothes.

"I need to get some sleep," Willow said and rose from the table, stiffly walking past her unwanted houseguest.

Buffy stared blankly at the wall as Angel sat down in the chair Willow had vacated.

"So, do you think last night was just a game?" he asked harshly.

"I don't ... I don't know," she said, toying nervously with the edge of her robe.  She wanted to scream no, that it wasn't just a game, that she still loved him and that she needed him to love her in return ... but she couldn't bring herself to make a sound.

Angel stared at his wife, slowly feeling his insides turn to ice.  Last night he felt alive, truly alive for the first time in a year, and now ... This was worse than before.  Prior to their evening together, he was numb, but this was like allowing a man dying of thirst only a sip of water before pouring the glass out on the ground.  He was better off living with his memories.  As it was now, he could still smell her on his body, still taste her sweetness in his mouth ... but she didn't want him.  She didn't believe in him.  She was abandoning him just when he needed her the most, just like everyone in his life had.

"I'm glad I could be of some ... comfort," he said coldly.  "If you ever get that lonely again, give me a call, I can probably free up some time."

Buffy couldn't watch as he left the room.  She was vaguely aware of the door to the apartment opening and closing.  She couldn't cry, she was too shocked.  Somehow she managed to screw it up again, to wound him when he was at his most vulnerable.  Comforting ... that was how she described making love with him.  And it had been.  It had been comforting because he was the only person she would ever allow herself to be that free with.  But the description had been lacking.  It made him sound ... convenient – as if she had merely needed release and he had been handy.

Buffy sighed, blinking back the tears she knew she could not keep at bay.  She wrapped her arms around her middle.  She would not fall apart.  She took a deep, fortifying breath and lifted her head high.  She would survive this.  She would survive Angel.  She had no other option.  With determination, she headed for the shower.  The need to wash his scent and his seed from her body was overwhelming.  Things were never going to work out between them, and she had to let him go or it was going to be her destruction.

---

"Mr. Roarke," Dr. Sanga said, motioning for the older man to have a seat.  "I have gone over your test results."

Holtz scowled.  He had always been a robust, healthy man.  He never got sick. He could stay up for hours on end, drink anyone else under the table, indulge every appetite without feeling ill effects, but lately his health had been failing.  Preliminary test results pointed to cancer, but he had recently undergone a barrage of tests to verify exactly what the problems were.

"The drinking has got to stop," Dr. Sanga said bluntly.  "Your problems are not directly related to your abuse of alcohol, but it will cause serious complications if you do not stop completely.  The chemotherapy drugs you will have to take will react badly with alcohol and your liver simply cannot handle the stress."

Holtz swallowed harshly, but remained silent.

"I am being quite serious," Dr. Sanga continued.  "You have put your body under a great deal of stress throughout your lifetime.  Frankly, I am shocked that you have not suffered the consequences sooner.  If you wish to continue living, you must stop drinking.  If you do not, you are going to die.  I do not wish to waste either my time or yours on such a fruitless endeavor."

---

"Nice wheels, B," Faith said appreciatively.

Buffy smiled, feeling intensely conspicuous driving the new car Angel's lawyer had sent a week earlier.  It was a new Volvo sedan, sleek but very safe.  Some part of her wanted to believe he'd sent that particular car because he had some interest in her well being, but another part was convinced that he'd probably just told Wesley to take care of things.  "Thanks," the blonde said quietly.

"Maybe I can get somebody to hit my piece of shit," Faith said almost to herself.  "Lord knows a  new car would be nice."

Buffy smiled, not bothering to clarify that it was her estranged husband and not the insurance company that had provided the new car.  If only it had been the insurance company, she thought wryly.  Then maybe whenever she looked at her new car, she wouldn't be reminded of her husband, her ex-lover.  As it was, she was still worried they weren't going to pick up the tab on her little trip to the hospital.  It was imperative to her that they did, especially since she'd have to go back and have her ankle checked again.  She didn't relish the idea of begging Angel for the money and she knew she couldn't afford it on her salary.  She was barely paying the bills as it was.

"That's a hell of a bruise on your forehead, B.  Are you sure you should be driving?"

Buffy shot her friend a wry glance.  The bruise did look bad, but she suspected Faith simply wanted to drive the car.  That was so not going to happen.  Faith was the queen of fender benders and speeding tickets.

"I think I can make it to The Book n' Bean," Buffy said firmly.

Faith sighed in defeat and slumped down in her seat.

---

"You're pissier than usual," William noted with a snarl.

Angel glared at his brother and then dismissed Lindsey with a nod.  The lawyer quickly scurried off to work on the papers they had been discussing.  "I'm busy," Angel said once they were alone.

"What's with all the commotion?" Will asked.  "I've been trying to get ahold of you for a week."

"I've been working on the annulment proceedings," Angel growled.  "I'm sick of dragging this out. I want it done."

Will cocked an eyebrow speculatively.  "Something happen between you and Fluffy?"

Angel's glare was the only response he received.  Will sighed and decided to take his chances.  "This is hopeless you know," he said offhandedly.  "No judge in his right mind is going to grant you an annulment without Buffy’s consent.  The amount of time you two were married combined with the fact that you cheated on her ...  You don’t have a leg to stand on and you know it."

"We'll just have to wait and see about that, now won't we?" Angel snapped.  He knew that William was right, but he also knew that Buffy was broke.  Provided the judge didn’t throw his case out, he had the financial reserves to win out.  Buffy couldn’t afford a prolonged legal battle regardless of how much her pride had been stung.

---

"It looks like business is good," Buffy said to Xander as he joined her at the secluded table.

He nodded, licking his lips nervously.  He hadn’t seen his friend much in the weeks since his opening.  "Buffy, I just want you to know that I'm sorry about what happened," he said in a rush.

Buffy smiled at her friend.  "I understand, Xand," she said.  "I wish you would have given me a heads up or something, but I know why you did it.  Angel gave you the money to open this place.  He did it to get back at me, but I’m sure he didn’t let you in on that tidbit.  You don’t know him well enough to understand his motives.  He played you.  I get that, I really do."

Xander sighed, feeling like an even bigger jerk.  "I just need to know that things are okay between you and me," he said quietly, too ashamed to meet her eyes.

"We're of the good," she reassured with a smile.  "I mean, I have to be mad at you on Willow’s behalf.  What you did to her was pretty despicable.  But between you and me, no, I don’t have any hard feelings about the opening or about your business deal with Angel."

Xander nodded, but still looked distracted and more than a little twitchy.  Buffy took time to really look at him.  He looked haggard, his skin was puffy, pasty and pale, there were dark circles under his eyes.  Success was apparently not all it was cracked up to be.  "How have you been?" she asked gently.

He looked at her and his expression was one of abject misery.  "How is Willow doing?" he asked meekly.

Buffy pursed her lips together as she regarded him.  "She is really angry," she admitted honestly.  "She feels very betrayed, rightfully so and when she mentions your name, it is generally not nice."

Xander flinched and stared at his hands which were laced together on the tabletop.  Buffy reached across and laid a gentle hand on his forearm.  "But she misses you," she said.  "If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t be so angry.  But don’t read into that too much.  She may still love you, but she is very, very upset."

Xander raised his eyes nervously, like an abused dog scared of being kicked again.  "Do you think she'd talk to me if I called her?" he asked.

"No," Buffy said baldly.  "She is madder than I have ever seen her and she has every right to be.  She supported you both emotionally and financially.  She worked two jobs so you could afford to go to cooking school and then when things started looking up for you, you dumped her.  She’s very bitter."

Xander’s expression was utterly crestfallen.  "I made a mistake, I know that now," he said quietly.  "I love her so much.  I don’t know what happened.  I got scared.  I had all these people around me telling me how much money I was going to be making and how much fun I could have if I was single.  They told me that she was holding me back and I was enough of an idiot to believe them."

"You were an idiot," Buffy agreed.  "You know Willow better than I do.  You know how long she can hold a grudge."

"Yeah," Xander said dejectedly, "I do."

"But," Buffy said, "she still loves you and she misses you – even if she does tend to curse your very existence several times a day."

Xander looked at her, tears in his eyes.  "What can I do to make it right?" he asked pitifully.

"Grovel.  Convince her," Buffy said.  "Make her believe that she can depend on you.  Talk to her, pursue her, and when she pushes you away, don’t listen.  Make her believe that you are serious, but be willing to deal with her rage, because trust me it’s there and there’s a lot of it."

"I deserve it," Xander said resolutely.

"Yes you do," Buffy replied.

Xander smiled.  "Thanks, Buffy," he said with genuine gratitude.

---

Willow frowned at Faith as she opened the door to the apartment and stepped aside.

"What?" the brunette asked.

"I don't think you guys are going anywhere tonight," Willow said with a wry expression.

Faith sighed.  She and Buffy had been planning their Friday night outing for weeks.  They were supposed to be going clubbing in one of the trendier new nightspots.   It had taken Faith forever to convince her friend to go.  "What did Angel do this time?" Faith snapped, stepping inside the apartment.

"She's in the bathroom," Willow replied, and then followed quickly on the brunette's heels as she headed to see Buffy.

Faith leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at her friend, slumped on the floor next to the toilet.  "You look like shit, B," Faith said bluntly.

Buffy gave her a miserable excuse for a smile and handed Faith a set of papers she had clutched in her hand.  The brunette took the documents to study, but was unable to make heads or tails of them.  "I know this has something to do with Angel," she said in irritation, "but I'm afraid you're gonna have to explain it to me."

"They're court documents," Buffy said quietly.  "Angel is proceeding with this stupid quest for an annulment.  We have a court date next Thursday."

Faith gaped at her friend.  "That bastard!" she gasped.  Buffy nodded miserably and instinctively placed her hand to her mouth.  Faith looked away as her friend dry heaved into the toilet.  "Are you sure there’s not something really wrong with you?" Faith asked with a grimace once Buffy had herself under control again.

"I'm fine," Buffy answered wearily, "just the stress getting to me."  She wiped her mouth with a piece of toilet paper.  She’d been sick for the last couple of days and it didn’t seem to be letting up.  She prayed that it would go away.   She couldn’t afford a visit to a doctor and even getting  a prescription filled could put her in a serious financial bind.

Faith frowned at her response, unconvinced, then looked at Willow who wore a similar expression.  "I don't know, B," Faith said.  You smacked your head pretty good in that wreck.  Maybe you have a serious problem."

"She's right, Buffy," Willow chimed in.  "I know you're really frayed right now, but this looks like more than nerves.  I think you should see a doctor."

Buffy scowled.  "Fine," she said in a defeated voice, "I have an appointment on Monday to have my ankle looked at.  I'll tell the doc about my other symptoms.  No use making two trips."

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