Something icy pulled at Buffy's insides and she quickly dried her hands. Striding to the front door, she pulled it open and called "Samantha, you need to come inside now."

Turning, Samantha frowned at her mother, but ever socially perfect, she never let on to her would-be boyfriend that anything was wrong. A few more smiles and laughs and she was soon waving goodbye as she carefully made her way up the front steps in impossibly high heels, looking as immaculately put together as she had when she left that morning.

Once inside, Samantha turned to face her mother, taking advantage of the fact that in three inch heels she was an inch taller than Buffy, who was in bare feet. "I'm eighteen years old and it's the middle of the afternoon," Samantha huffed. "Nothing was going on."

Frowning, Buffy said, "I know, it's just … " She trailed off. "Never mind, honey."

Shaking her head, Samantha turned and made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Buffy sighed, walking into the living room and collapsing onto the couch. Turning, she looked at the pictures decorating the mantle. A lifetime of memories stared back at her from the artfully arranged frames. The newest picture was Samantha's senior portrait. Samantha was an absolutely lovely girl, the mirror image of her mother at the same age, same long, blonde hair, slight build, perfectly creamy completion and mutable hazel eyes, though slightly more petite.

Buffy looked from Samantha's picture to the picture of herself and Angel taken their senior year in high school. Buffy had been three months pregnant at the time. "Gods, I was just a baby," she whispered, looking at herself and Angel smiling at each other, absurdly happy.

Buffy winced as she heard the back door slam loudly, but was too overwhelmed to get off the couch at that particular moment. She heard several minutes of obvious cabinet raiding before the inevitable "Why isn't there any fucking food in this house?" boomed from the kitchen.

Sighing, Buffy yelled, "Language!"

Pushing herself up, Buffy walked into the kitchen to find her younger daughter riffling through the refrigerator. Josephine "Call me Joey or I'll break your fucking nose" was as much her father's child as Samantha was her mother's. In her bare feet, Joey was nearly six feet tall and her body looked like it belonged to a twenty-five year old, not a fifteen year old, all lush curves and toned muscle. She was wearing her ever present leather pants and tight babydoll t-shirt. Her unruly dark locks were clipped short and spiked up with gel.

"There's popcorn in the cabinet," Buffy offered.

Joey frowned at her. "I'm not a bird," she snapped. "Samantha eats that crap. I want some real food."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy pushed Joey aside and carefully plucked the items necessary to make a sandwich out of the refrigerator. "There," Buffy said, motioning to the counter.

Joey stared at the food and then looked back to Buffy, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "Mom," she whined.

Sighing, Buffy proceeded to make her daughter a sandwich.

Joey was sitting at the small kitchen table, her walkman blaring, flipping through a magazine as she ate her sandwich. Buffy cleaned up the newest mess and went about finishing washing the dishes.

Angel burst through the back door and headed upstairs without so much as a hello. Ten minutes later, he reappeared in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of black slacks, his hair still wet from his speedy shower. "You're not ready to go," he said to Buffy.

Carefully refolding the dish towel, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her husband. "Ready to go where?" she asked.

He huffed, looking at her incredulously. "We're supposed to be having dinner with the Nabbits in half an hour," he said shortly.

Buffy shook her head. "Angel, I have study group every Tuesday night. You know that. I told you last week I couldn't go."

He looked at her like she wasn't even speaking English. "These are the Nabbits," he said seriously. "They're considering investing in the new complex we're trying to open in San Francisco."

"We don't need the complex in San Francisco," Buffy informed him impatiently. She was getting very tired of having this conversation. "We hardly see you as it is now. And we definitely don't need the money."

Angel sighed, shrugging into the white button-up shirt he had been holding. "If I can get Nabbit as a partner, I'll have more time."

Buffy turned away, walking past him and up the stairs. He followed on her heels. "You always say that, Angel," she said. "But with every new investor you get, it just means more work for you."

"The other situations were different," Angel continued. "This time, I promise. I'll have more time."

Buffy turned around, staring up at him. "You always say that," she said wearily.

He frowned, leaning down to wrap his arms around her waist as he pulled her against his body. Buffy sighed, leaning her head against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I promise," he said. "With Nabbit, things will change."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she informed him.

Angel released her as she continued down the hall to the bedroom. He followed her inside and closed the door. He sat down on the bed, pulling on his socks as he watched her shimmy out of her clothes with avid interest.

But as she pulled on a pair of low rise jeans and a red sweater with a deep V, he asked, "What are you doing?"

Turning, she looked at him. "I have study group," she repeated very slowly.

Angel dropped his shoe. "You're honestly not going with me tonight?" he asked, obviously shocked.

"Angel, dammit, I’m in law school," she said. "I waited years to do this, for the girls to be old enough for me to devote this much time to something. It's hard. I can't just drop everything every time you have something you need me to do. If I don't study, I'm going to flunk out of school."

"Baby," Angel groaned, pulling himself to his feet. "Can’t you miss it just this once? This meeting is really important."

"My education is really important too," Buffy threw back before heading toward the door. "I told you I couldn’t go but you don’t listen!" With that, she headed toward the door and flung it open. She hurried out of the room and down the stairs, scooping up her backpack from its resting place in the living room before she headed out. Angel caught her at the front door and spun her around.

"Angel-" Buffy started, but found herself tucked into his arms, his lips covering hers. She relented briefly but pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. He frowned at her when she backed out of his arms.

"You’re really going to the study session," he stated plainly, looking into her angry and determined face.

"I’ll be home late," she said, shaking her head and went through the door, letting it slam behind her.

---

"The basic idea of negligence is that they are required to perform in the way a reasonably prudent person would act under the circumstances," Buffy said, leaning over the table at the Espresso Pump to make her issue. "The police could have dropped off the plaintiff pretty much anywhere, like, oh, I don’t know, some place safer. That’s not exactly prudent."

"But we haven’t studied negligence yet, Buffy," Lindsey argued. "Even if we had, there’s no cause for action because they didn’t restrict his physical freedom when they gave the kid more freedom than he would have had without a lift from them." Lindsey met her eyes with a slow smile and took a sip of his coffee. He wished for beer but swallowed the hot liquid without complaint. One day soon he was getting Buffy into a bar instead of a coffee shop.

Buffy almost laughed, shaking her head. "Of course you would already know everything there is to know about what we haven’t studied yet."

"Fourth generation lawyer, darlin’," Lindsey drawled leaning back in his chair. "I’ve heard more about negligence than you can shake a stick at, besides Property and Tort was my grandfather’s specialty."

"My father’s a librarian," Buffy countered, "but I don’t know anything about the Dewey Decimal system."

"Well, he probably didn’t make you spend your summers in the library either," Lindsey said, chuckling. "Anyway, you study enough for both of us. I say we’ve beaten this case to death. Let’s go get a cold one to tide us over to the next chapter."

Buffy rolled her eyes and checked her watch. It was already 11:30 and she was exhausted. "One more hour here," she said, "and then I’m going home to bed. A beer would knock me off my feet."

"Would that be so bad?" he asked, dispensing with all subtlety as his eyes raked over her form. He was twenty-four and Buffy was thirty-six, but he'd had older lovers in the past. And Buffy was a gorgeous woman with a mind to match. "I promise I'd be there to catch you."

Buffy's good humor evaporated and her spine stiffened.

"Oh no," Lindsey bemoaned, "here it comes."

"I'm married," Buffy said shortly. She genuinely enjoyed Lindsey's company. He was smart and easy on the eyes with a biting wit and a healthy dose of good ol' boy charm that no doubt secured him invitations into the beds of any available women. But Buffy wasn't available.

"I know you're married," he said. "And I know you're older than me. I also know I don't care. I want you."

Buffy's breath caught in her throat and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't break eye contact. There was a fluttering low in her stomach and her heart beat far faster than it should. This was wrong, so very wrong. But she couldn't deny that she was most definitely physically attracted to Lindsey. And the sensations he wrought in her were undeniably fascinating, all sparkly and new. What she had with Lindsey was completely different from what she shared with Angel.

Angel. Her husband. Her mate. Her lover for nearly the last two decades.

"On second thought, maybe I should go now," Buffy said tightly, closing her books and efficiently packing them away into her satchel.

Leaning across the table, Lindsey caught her wrist lightly in his grip. "You can't run from this," he said.

Looking up, Buffy met his eyes for a brief second. "Watch me."

---

Buffy was in the office, the desk strewn with books, none of which could secure her attention. She was forcing herself to study, trying to put the recent, jarring encounter with Lindsey out of her mind. It was late, she should just go to bed, but Angel wasn't home yet and she didn't like sleeping alone.

She heard the front door open and close and several minutes later, Angel appeared in the doorway, lounging against the jamb. He'd taken off his suit jacket and the top few buttons on his shirt were undone. Buffy swiveled her desk chair around, facing him.

Mutely, he crossed the distance to where she sat. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her lap. Buffy sighed deeply, running her fingers through his hair.

"You're my whole world," he said. "You know that, right?"

Her eyes misted and she whispered, "I love you, Angel."

He straightened up, still kneeling between her legs. He pulled her closer, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Buffy melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she deepened the kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held tightly to him as he stood and made his way to the bedroom. After twenty years of carrying his wife around the house, Angel knew the way by heart and continued to focus on kissing her as he went.

He was three steps from their bedroom door when they pulled from each other and cocked their heads in the direction of the stairs. Angel held Buffy close and tiptoed toward the stairs, listening ever more closely to the sounds coming from the living room. Thirty seconds later, he set Buffy lightly on her feet, kissed her forehead and made his way down the stairs where he found Joey on the couch with a guy who looked like he fell face first into a barrel of metal. He was pierced so randomly and frequently, Angel thought it couldn’t have possibly been on purpose. He had a huge tattoo on the side of his neck and one of his hands was moving over his baby girl’s chest.

"Hi, honey," Angel said casually. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes were almost black with rage as he bared his teeth at the boy. His movements were unhurried and fluid as he made his way down the steps.

Joey jumped up from the couch and backed away from the metal faced kid. "Daddy, don’t freak out. I thought you’d be asleep already."

Joey’s boyfriend pulled himself from the couch to look at Joey’s dad. His eyes widened as he took in the huge frame of the man who stood only a couple of inches taller than his daughter and still managed to look huge and menacing. It was the murderous glint in eyes that matched his daughter’s that made him back toward the door.

"Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?" Angel snarled, moving closer to circle the couch.

"This is Eric," Joey said, standing in the way of her father, "and he has to *run.*"

Ever interested in self-preservation, Eric did run for the door. Joey attempted to get in the way, but Angel carefully plucked her off her feet and set her aside effortlessly as he pounced on the very dead man who had been groping his baby. Eric was pinned to the wall with Angel's forearm quickly cutting off his oxygen supply when Buffy said, "Angel, you can't kill him."

"I beg to differ," Angel growled, pressing his forearm even harder into the idiot's windpipe.

"Angel!" Buffy snapped.

Glowering, Angel pulled back far enough that Eric could breathe, but he didn't release him.

"Eric, how old are you?" Buffy asked calmly.

Eric glared at her, but when Angel increased the pressure, he squeaked out, "Twenty-two."

Buffy nodded, taking a moment to give her daughter a glare that could have frozen ice. "Well, Eric," Buffy said. "I don't know what my daughter told you or if you even asked, but she's fifteen."

Eric's glower faltered and then finally failed completely as he gaped at Joey. "She's not fifteen. My kid sister's fifteen. Fifteen doesn't look like that."

"Trust me," Buffy said seriously, "she's fifteen and unless you want to add a few more felony charges to what is undoubtedly an impressive rap sheet, I suggest you never, ever come near her again."

Eric swallowed thickly and looked at Angel, "I didn't know, man," he said seriously. "I swear, if I'd known she was just a kid, I wouldn't have dreamed of it."

Angel growled, leaning in closer to his prey. "I know my wife was talking about felonies," he whispered, "but I assure you if you touch her again, you won't have to worry about the police. I'll just kill you."

Eric read the pure truth in Angel's eyes and nodded frantically. Two seconds after Angel released him, Eric was out the door and running down the sidewalk. In tandem, Buffy and Angel turned to face Joey, their arms crossed over their chests.

"What were you thinking?" Angel bellowed. "Do you know anything about that guy? He could have been dangerous. He could have hurt you."

Joey rolled her eyes, trying to appear unconcerned with her parents' obvious anger.

"Why on Earth would you bring a delinquent like that home?" Buffy asked. "What are you trying to prove? You're fifteen, Josephine. Do you want to throw your life away?"

Joey looked at her mother with pure contempt written on her face. "Worked for you, didn't it?" she bit out.

Buffy's eyes went wide and she gaped at her daughter. For her part, Joey obviously understood she'd gone too far. Her confidence seemed to wane.

Angel took a step forward, his face set in perfectly hard lines. "You're grounded for a month," he said. "No parties, no dates, no gigs, no band practice. You will be with either me or your mother or Giles and Jenny every second you're not in school."

"Daddy," Joey whined, her eyes welling with tears.

That pout from his baby girl could usually reduce Angel to mush in record time, but not tonight. His expression never faltered. "Upstairs," he said. "Now."

---

Buffy was already in bed, turned toward the wall when Angel finally walked into the bedroom. He set his toolbox in the corner. Buffy didn't need to ask. She knew that he'd nailed Joey's bedroom windows shut. She watched him undress and climb into bed, where he immediately pulled her against him.

"Did you talk to her?" Buffy asked after a long pause.

"Yeah," Angel grunted. "Apparently his ‘wicked cool’ motorcycle was parked down the street and he’s in some death metal band from Los Angeles."

"Twenty-two, Angel," she muffed against his chest, before sitting up. "That’s almost as old as us! He could have done anything to her! She’s just a baby. She thinks she understands the world but she doesn’t."

"I know," Angel said quietly. "I talked to her about it, but I think she needs to hear it from you."

"Why?" Buffy sniffed. "Cause you spent the time shouting expletives and threatening to kill him?"

"For only part of it," Angel grumbled back. He gathered her closer against him and kissed the top of her head. He waited for the inevitable smartass reply and looked down to see she had fallen fast asleep.

---

Buffy woke very pleasantly, her back arching as a moan broke past her lips. "Angel," she groaned, arching her hips insistently against his talented mouth. He suckled her clit as he added another finger to the two already inside her clenching channel. Her fingers twined through his hair, pulling as she climaxed.

Buffy was still dazed, only semi-conscious as Angel made his way up her body. He stopped, pressing his face against her abdomen as he always did. It was his ritual, pressing long kisses and laving with his tongue the scars that bisected her stomach. The scars were old, but still prominent. Initially, it had bothered Buffy that he gave something she deemed so unsightly such reverent attention, but he'd been insistent. He said the scars reminded him of how close he'd come to losing not only her, but Samantha, and of just how lucky he truly was.

He gave the scar one last kiss before moving further up her body, capturing a nipple between his teeth. Buffy murmured contentedly, wrapping her legs around his hips. Angel took it for the invitation it was and slid inside her body, nearly purring in satisfaction.

---

An hour later, Angel finally collapsed onto his back next to his wife. She turned into him, pressing a hard kiss to his tattoo-covered shoulder. "You're going to be late to work," she murmured.

Angel groaned and turned over to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He cursed under his breath and rose quickly, pulling open the closet doors. "I forgot to tell you," he said as he rummaged through a large number of Buffy's shoes before coming back out with a suitcase. "Nabbit and I are going to San Francisco for a couple of days to tour the site and discuss what needs to be done."

"Today?" Buffy echoed irritably as her afterglow quickly faded. "Angel, I need you here! Someone has to be around to keep an eye on Joey and although Samantha hasn't been any trouble she's been dating a guy in a sports car. A sports car, Angel. A red one."

"I'm sorry, baby," Angel cast in her general direction as he pulled clothes from the closet. "I know this is last minute, but it'll just be for a couple of days. The girls are old enough to be by themselves for awhile if you can't be here."

"That isn't the point!" Buffy fumed. "You're never here. You went on a business trip last week and you promised you be around for a few weeks before you left again."

"I know," Angel sighed. He turned and watched her fight with her robe for a moment before briskly tying the silk sash around her waist. "I didn't know he'd be so anxious to see the site. I need his partnership so I can be around more. I'll be home as soon as I can. Two days tops. He's going to be leaving for Europe for a business trip next week and won't be back for a month. I need to seal this before he leaves."

"Why?" Buffy groaned. "Why does this mean so much to you? Why can't you be here with your family?"

"I'm doing this for you and the girls," Angel said, crossing the room to her and bracing his hands on her narrow shoulders. "I want our daughters to have something important, to know that we've built a company that they will inherit one day."

"When will you realize that we love *you*, not the businesses or the money or what you've made of yourself? You aren't that guy in high school anymore Angel. You're a father and a husband. Your children and your wife need you here!"

"Two days," Angel promised. "And then I'll be here. I just want to finish this one and then I'll take a break for awhile."

"You always say that!" she shouted angrily. "I'm so fucking tired of this, Angel!"

Angel watched her storm out, stunned by her fury over the situation. He stood there and listened to the bathroom door slam behind her and seconds later when the shower turned on he cursed out loud. Now he wasn't going to get into the bathroom for an hour at the very least.

"Fuck!" he growled and turned to toss more clothes in his bag.

---

His foul temper getting worse by the second, Angel quickly made his way down the stairs. He dropped his suitcase by the front door and turned to grab his jacket off the coat rack. He stopped mid-motion, noticing Joey sitting on the end of the couch, suitcase in hand. "Where do you think you're going?" he snapped.

His daughter gaped at him, glaring at him with unbridled irritation. "With you," she replied nastily.

Angel's brow furrowed and he turned to look at Buffy as she walked into the living room, dressed for the day and holding a cup of coffee. "Nuh uh," she said, shaking her head at Joey. "Go change. You're not wearing that."

Defiantly, Joey crossed her arms over her chest. "No."

Buffy's gaze narrowed. "With all that metal, it's going to take you two hours to get through airport security. Go change. Now."

Huffing in indignation, Joey stomped up the stairs to her room. Angel turned to look at his wife. "What's going on?"

She smiled tightly. "You're taking Joey to San Francisco with you," Buffy informed him shortly. On that note, she turned on her heel and leisurely made her way back to the kitchen.

Angel followed directly on her heels, huffing in exasperation. "Are you insane?" he finally managed in a strangled whisper. "I can't take my fifteen year old daughter on a business trip of this magnitude."

Buffy spun around, pointing at him with her index finger and Angel knew he was in trouble. "Oh yes you can," she informed him darkly. "Remember when my great aunt Lydia died? We were all supposed to go to the funeral and you had some last second emergency down at the shop. I took a newborn and a toddler, both of whom were sick at the time, on an international flight by myself and then got to drag them all over England."

"That was fifteen years ago," he countered irritably. "Why are you still pissed about that?"

"Because nothing ever changes," she yelled, slamming her coffee cup down onto the kitchen island so hard the hot liquid sloshed everywhere. She groaned in frustration, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes for several long moments. When she finally dropped her arms, she was still glaring at him. "I am always stuck with the kids while you're off living your life," she informed him coldly.

"That's not fair, Buffy," he said seriously. "'My life' as you insist on calling it, is all for you and the girls. I do my best to provide for this family."

"I'm not denying that," Buffy said. "But I also know that your presence is more important than the money you make." She sighed deeply, turning around and wetting a dishcloth before wiping up the coffee she had spilled. Angel watched her mutely. She rinsed the cloth and draped it over the side of the sink. Finally, she turned back to him.

"I'm sick of it, Angel," she said wearily. "And I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm tired of being the one that always has to be the bad guy. You're the one that grounded Joey and now you're taking off, leaving me here to be the focal point of all of her tantrums and rebellion."

Angel looked at his wife, his brow furrowed. "It's not really that bad, is it?" he asked softly.

"I get to be the monster and you get to be the world's greatest dad," Buffy informed him seriously.

Angel was at a loss for words, simply staring at Buffy's weary countenance. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked defeated in a way Angel had never imagined she could.

Buffy cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're taking Joey with you to San Francisco," she told him.

---

Buffy watched from the front door as Angel and Joey stormed to the car wearing twin snarls on their faces. The car roared out of the driveway and she could see as Angel backed out that he and Joey were already yelling at each other. She padded across the room, curled up on the end of the couch and closed her eyes. She wasn't going to feel guilty for sending Joey with Angel. For the last eighteen years, she had been the bad guy. Angel could try it out for two days and see where that took him.

Buffy was startled awake when she heard the clickity, clackity of designer high heel shoes coming down the stairs and she quickly checked her watch. She must have fallen asleep and now she was going to be running late. Buffy hopped up from the couch and walked briskly to the stairs, intending on freshening up before she went to class, but stopped when her daughter paused on the second step down and appraised her mother.

"You let Joey ditch school to go to San Francisco with Daddy?" Samantha asked coolly, as if she didn't already know the answer.

"This isn't a field trip," Buffy grouched. "She's been punished for her behavior."

"And going shopping and having a free tour of another city is a punishment?" Samantha asked casually as she appraised her perfect manicure.

"Go to school, Samantha," Buffy growled.

"You know Daddy is going to give her his credit card and send her someplace out of his way so he can have his meeting!" Samantha shouted, stomping her petite foot on the stair. "If that's punishment, maybe I should let some boy grope me in the living room."

"Go. To. School," Buffy said, brushing past her to head up the stairs.

"Mom!"

"Now!"

---

"Kellerman is such a prick!"

Buffy looked up, watching as her fellow student, Amy Madison, flopped onto the old library sofa next to her. "He's particular," Buffy admitted. She rather liked Professor Kellerman. She was one of the few. She actually liked the old man's dry wit and gruffness, having no trouble seeing through it to the concerned teacher underneath.

"He's a slave driver," Amy groused, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

"He has his moments," Buffy offered. She often kept her opinions to herself around her classmates, not wanting to single herself out anymore than she already was. The vast majority of her classmates were in their early twenties and their outlook on life and the world in general tended to be different from Buffy's more seasoned view. She didn't take every homework assignment as a personal attack on her social life, nor did she see her life crumbling before her if she didn't do as well as expected on a test.

Sighing, Amy looked at her day calendar. "Hey," she said, nudging Buffy in the shoulder, "you going to Virginia's party tomorrow night?"

Buffy was about to respond when Lindsey and another classmate, Justine Cooper joined them in the small study alcove. "Yeah," Justine goaded. "You have to go."

"Nope, look at that face," Lindsey said, slumping into a chair, his legs stretched out carelessly in front of him. "Buffy's about to give us all the brush off once again."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy said, "I have a family. I can't party like I'm in college."

"You are in college," Justine pointed out.

"And how old are your kids?" Amy asked tactlessly. "Surely they can take care of themselves for a few hours. Or is this about your husband? Does he not like the little woman gettin' a social life of her own?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Angel's fine with me going out," Buffy said, knowing it wasn't precisely true. He never admitted to having an issue with her occasionally going out with her classmates, but he did tend to pout a good bit. "And it's not because of him, he's actually in San Francisco with our youngest daughter – "

"Good then," Lindsey interrupted. "You can go."

Buffy opened her mouth to respond and realized Lindsey was right. Angel and Joey would be out of town until Saturday afternoon. "But Samantha ... " Buffy began.

"Is eighteen years old, isn't she?" Lindsey pressed. "Buffy, she can take care of herself. Just go to the party with us."

Buffy sighed in defeat. "Okay," she said. "I'll go to the party tomorrow."

---

"So what did Joey do today?" Buffy asked, her voice taut, her fingers biting into the receiver. On the other end of the phone, Angel was quiet and Buffy knew he was trying to think up an excuse that would work. "Dammit, Angel," Buffy cursed. "She's supposed to be being punished."

"What do you want me to do?" Angel demanded. "I'm in meetings all day."

"That doesn't mean you have just hand her cash and let her run loose," Buffy countered grouchily. "The hotel has cable. She could have parked her butt in the room and worked on all the homework that she can never seem to remember to turn in."

"Buffy – " Angel started and it was almost a whine.

"You just hate being the bad guy," Buffy snapped. "You'd rather spoil Joey than risk having her mad at you. I hope you know you're not doing her any favors."

"They're my little girls," Angel countered gruffly, his irritation growing. "Why is it a bad thing if I want to see them happy?"

"Happy?" Buffy bit out. "Well, I'm sure Joey will be deliriously happy when she manages to flunk out of school and ends up pregnant by some recent parolee from San Quentin."

"Now you're just being unreasonable," Angel rejoined.

"No," Buffy fumed. "In fact, I am tired of being the only reasonable one." As if on cue, Samantha strolled through the front door, looking freshly beautiful as always. "Samantha wait," Buffy said loudly.

"What are you talking about, Buffy?" Angel asked warily.

"I'm going to a party tomorrow night so don't call," Buffy huffed. "And since Samantha shouldn't be punished when Joey was the one that misbehaved, I'm taking her shopping tonight. How much did Joey spend?"

"Why?" Angel asked quietly. He could feel the storm of his wife's temper coming through the phone and although she had been angry with him before about spoiling the girls and business trips away, he felt a shiver go through his gut. It didn't have a damn thing to do with a college party or money.

"Because Samantha is spending twice as much," she barked. Her blazing hazel eyes met those of her daughter's widened in shock. "She deserves her good behavior to be reinforced," Buffy continued angrily. "You keep Joey in the hotel tomorrow. If she so much as goes to McDonald's by herself you're sleeping on the couch."

---

It was late when Samantha and Buffy finally made their way home. Buffy set her shopping bags down on the kitchen island and touched the blinking red button on the answering machine. As Joey's voice began to bellow out of the little speaker, ranting about being held prisoner, Buffy turned the volume down so it was inaudible.

"You think Dad's going to hold his ground?" Samantha asked cautiously.

"He better," Buffy muttered. She knew that statistically speaking, it was a toss-up. While Angel could be one of the most intimidating, harsh men she'd ever met, his little girls never got to see that side. With them, he was a complete marshmallow. Even with Joey, who was by far the more difficult of the two.

---

"Well, when will you be home?" Buffy asked. Samantha had just called to let her know that an emergency school board meeting had been called. As president of the student body, Samantha had to attend.

"Late, mom. I don't know. The last one ran until two in the morning."

"Well, okay," Buffy said, "but you take your cell phone. Call me on mine if you need anything."

"Will do. Later."

Buffy hung up the phone and looked down at the outfits spread across her bedspread. She couldn't decide what to wear to the party. On one hand, she didn't want to look like some sad old woman trying to hang out with kids half her age, and on the other, she didn't feel like looking like anyone's mother either. Sadly, her closet was lacking in club wear. When she and Angel had a free night, which was rare, they usually preferred to spend it together. In bed. So while she had plenty of attire for those kinds of nights, none of it could be worn outside the bedroom, much less outside the house.

She tried on outfit after outfit, finally settling on a black spaghetti strap tanktop that played up her nicely toned arms and cleavage, a long gauzy gray skirt and strappy black sandals. It was playful without seeming slutty and didn't make her feel either like a child or an old crone.

Just as she was finishing up the final touches, her doorbell rang and she scurried down the stairs to answer it. Expecting Justine, she smiled brightly, only to have her smile fall away when she saw Lindsey. He looked damn good leaning casually against her doorjamb with his jacket thrown over his shoulder. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously and his full mouth quirked in a crooked smile.

"Evenin'," he said, raking his eyes over her body hungrily.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy whispered in frustration. She looked around to see if any neighbors were watching.

"Justine had a last minute thing. She asked me to come pick you up instead," Lindsey answered, standing up straight but moving casually and almost sensually slow.

"Yeah right," Buffy said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Do you have any idea what this looks like? I have neighbors. And I guess you already know that my husband isn't here."

"He isn't?" Lindsey said in mock surprise. "Well damn, I wanted to size up the competition. Guess I'll just have to take you out and party your sexy little legs off anyway."

"He isn't competition. He's my husband. He has no competition."

"Course not, darlin'," he drawled.

Irritated, Buffy grabbed her jacket and followed Lindsey out to the car. She reluctantly allowed him to open the door for her. Trying to make the best of the situation, Buffy pushed her anger aside and made chitchat with Lindsey. It was easy to do. He was a good conversationalist. Before long, the indiscretion was forgotten.

They pulled up in front of one of the trendy little Mexican restaurants not far from campus. Buffy looked at Lindsey curiously. "Slight detour," he said. "The girls wanted to meet here for appetizers and drinks before Virginia's party."

Following him inside, Buffy looked at the brightly colored sombreros tacked to the walls. Before long, they were being led upstairs to the open patio where Amy, Anya, Justine and Graham were seated at a large table. It was early October and the air was somewhat brisk, but not uncomfortable. Lindsey ordered another pitcher of margaritas and sangrias along with chips and salsa.

Before long, the pitchers were empty and had been replaced by more. Buffy had never been a big drinker and the three sangrias were enough to make her very giggly. The conversation around the table was bawdy to the point of obscene and had Buffy not been drinking, she would definitely been uncomfortable.

"Gods, what's it like?" Anya asked, eyeing Buffy speculatively.

"Huh?" Buffy asked, caught scooping a chip and salsa into her mouth. She quickly chewed. "What?"

"Being married to the same person for that long. I mean, sex with the same person. Don't you miss dating?"

Buffy shrugged, smiling. "Angel's the only person I've ever had sex with," she answered easily.

Justine, Amy and Anya gaped at her. "You've got to be kidding."

Buffy shook her head. "Nope. Just Angel. I mean, it's not like I had a lot of time to date. I got pregnant either the first or second time I had sex. Lucky me."

Across the table, Graham just looked at her. "Wow," he said, obviously shocked.

"Don't you wonder what you're missing?" Amy pressed. "I mean, don't you want to know what it's like to have sex with someone else?"

"Honestly?" Buffy asked. "No." She shook her head. "I mean, well, sure there's some curiosity, but it's not like I'm not satisfied. I have a lot of issues with my husband, but none of them revolve around the bedroom. That aspect of our marriage has always been very, very good."

Amy laughed. "Go, Buffy," she said, slapping her on the shoulder.

Lindsey smiled tightly, masking his discomfort. He didn't want to know that Buffy still had a fabulous sex life with her husband. He just wanted to know how he could get closer. Looking at his watch, he said, "Well, ladies, it's about time."

Everyone agreed and they paid the check and headed for their cars. Buffy was swaying and was forced to hold on to Lindsey's arm. Virginia's party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Buffy was aware that Virginia's family was very wealthy, from the old money side of reality, and Virginia's lavish home announced that fact. Everything was understated and sophisticated while being incredibly expensive at the same time.

Buffy had seen college parties and been to several of them while she was in school, but this was her first Law School party. She wasn't entirely sure if everyone was less like a party animal and more like a dance club because Virginia's home was so nice or that they all fancied themselves more sophisticated.

She leaned on Lindsey and allowed him to guide her around the party, took the drink he handed her and danced with him when he nudged her out on the floor. After all, she wanted to dance. He pulled her in close but her third drink had made her freer than she was sober. She wasn't used being on her guard. Every time she had ever been tipsy she'd been with Angel, so when Lindsey pressed their bodies together she allowed it and when his lips brushed the side of her neck she shuddered in delight.

By her fifth drink, Buffy was well past tipsy and sailed closer to intoxicated. She felt irresponsible and wild…and free. She never had time to party and act crazy when she was younger. She was changing diapers and doing her husband's laundry when everyone else was out misbehaving. A small twinge of guilt floated through her clouded mind as she realized that she wanted to be the one to have fun for once.

In the wee morning hours, Buffy found herself snuggled in an oversized chair with Lindsey and laughing hysterically with her friends. Tears peaked at the corner of her eyes as she giggled uncontrollably at Anya's Man Policy, which included a list of sexual acts that were illegal in most states.

Buffy choked on her laughter as Lindsey's hand moved just under her right breast. He caressed the tender underside with his thumb, keeping the movements slow and soothing. Much to her embarrassment, both of her nipples hardened immediately. She swallowed a gasp as she realized that she was aroused by him.

"Are you going to try and take advantage of me?" Buffy whispered in a slurred voice, "Cause Angel'll kill you."

"I don't take advantage of drunk women," Lindsey whispered against the shell of her ear. He was close enough to her that she could feel his lips moving. "That doesn't mean I won't have you in my bed very soon."

"Angel," she slurred again, scooting away. "Married to Angel."

"I'll have you, Buffy, and sooner than you think," he said in a low, soothing voice.

"Don't be stupid," Buffy whimpered, suddenly more aware of how his body pressed against hers. She moved toward the edge of the chair and repeated. "I'm married."

"I know exactly what you are," he answered.

---

Buffy was starting to sober up by the time Lindsey's car was approaching the house. Full awareness hadn't returned yet, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd done some very stupid things.

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop before she had the door open and was running for the house. Ever the consummate chess player, Lindsey let her go without a word, waiting until she was safely inside before he pulled out of the driveway.

Buffy woke the next morning with a pounding headache. Her mouth tasted like she'd spent the evening licking an ashtray and she barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited the meager contents of her stomach. By noon, she was vaguely human, though she was creeping around the house in her bathrobe, avoiding Samantha's pointed looks. She took a shower, but she couldn't look at herself in the mirror.

What had she done? Buffy cringed at the mere thought. She'd gone out with Lindsey, gotten extremely drunk, let him grind against her and cuddle with her. She was a married woman!

But even as Buffy berated herself for her actions, she couldn't deny that she'd had fun. Touching Lindsey was a rush. A very bad, forbidden rush, but a rush nonetheless. He was so young and handsome and charming. Touching him was all sparkly and new. Sure, Angel's touch got her hot like no other, but she had a whole train full of baggage with Angel. Buffy knew it was stupid. Undoubtedly Lindsey had his own baggage, but at least she wasn't privy to it. From where she stood, he could look perfect because she wasn't forced to dig beneath the surface. With Angel, she knew everything there was to know about him, the good, the bad, the ugly, the sexy as hell. Dammit, Angel drove her insane, but she loved him beyond measure. He was her lover, her other-half, her perfect complement. And yet, she'd let Lindsey touch her. Buffy groaned loudly, burying her head in her pillow.

By the time Angel and Joey got home in the late afternoon, Buffy had managed to be downstairs for awhile instead of glued to her bed and had even eaten a couple of pieces of dry toast. She ignored the fact that she and Samantha hadn't spoken all day. She had no interest in answering any questions that her daughter might have about why she was so hung over. The idea of being drunk was suddenly connected with Lindsey's face and she felt herself flushing with guilt again.

Joey was the first one through the door, hauling her backpack with her and stomping. She spied her mother on the couch and practically snarled at her. "Thanks a lot for ruining our trip to San Francisco," she snapped. "Daddy wouldn't let me do a fucking thing and thanks to you he was in a bad mood for half the time we were there."

"It wasn't a vacation, Josephine," Buffy said, trying to keep her voice even. "You are still grounded no matter where you are."

"I hate you," Joey shouted. "You are such a fucking bitch!"

"Language!" Buffy tersely responded and gaped when Angel came into the house. He looked furious. He sized her up briefly and then turned back to his daughter, who he had gripped on the upper arm and turned to face him.

"You are angry with your mother," Angel said quietly. "I understand that, but you will apologize right now for speaking that way to her and I will never, ever hear you say something so hurtful to her again. Do you understand?"

"Daddy-"

"Do you understand me?" he repeated very slowly.

"Yes," she whispered back. Glancing over, she muttered, "Sorry, Mom."

Without waiting for a response, she ran upstairs, taking them two a time and seconds later her bedroom door slammed so hard Buffy thought the ceiling was going to tumble into the living room. Angel left his bag sitting in the hall and shut the door behind him, before walking into the living room to look over his wife. He loomed over her with his arms across his chest and glared for a second.

"You're hung over," he announced.

"I drank too much last night," she answered quietly. She swallowed a needed breath of air and felt guilt for her actions swamp over her again. She loved Angel, truly, almost desperately some days. There was no excuse for what happened with Lindsey.

"I got an interesting call from Wesley before we boarded the plane this afternoon," Angel said, still standing over her. His eyes seemed to be growing darker with every second. "He's been seeing Virginia on and off for the last year, so naturally he was at your little party last night."

"R-really?" Buffy stuttered. It took every ounce of will power to keep her eyes on his face and to hide the wild panic that filled her. Her heart was stampeding in her chest.

"Yes," Angel growled. "Please tell me that the gorgeous blonde in a skimpy little outfit he saw wasn't you."

"Angel," Buffy whimpered, scooted further into the couch as if it could make her disappear.

"Please tell me that you weren't the woman who was drunk off her ass and who apparently came and went with a man that is not me." His voice was dangerously low and predatory as he looked over her. Even his anger couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes and he finally sat down on the couch next to her, running a hand through his hair.

"I didn't do anything with him, Angel," she pleaded. "I didn't cheat on you."

"Getting drunk with another man and performing a mating ritual that apparently serves as dancing isn't cheating on me?" he asked in a rasping voice.

"I love you," she said, reaching out to touch him. He pulled back as if her touch would burn him and rose from the couch.

"I love you too, Buffy," he answered. "I can't believe that was you last night. I told Wes he was obviously mistaken because my wife wouldn't have acted that way."

"I…I just wanted to have a good time, that's all," Buffy said, tears filling her eyes. "I just wanted to be carefree for one night. I didn't do anything with Lindsey."

"Lindsey," Angel repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Well, I hope you had a great time being fucking carefree."

---

By the time Buffy mustered enough courage to venture into the bedroom, Angel was already in bed. All the lights were off and he was on his side, facing away from her. Quietly as possible, Buffy slipped beneath the covers next to him. She could tell from the rigid line of his shoulder and his short breaths that he wasn't asleep, but he was pretending - pretending so he didn't have to look at her or talk to her or think about the fact that she'd made a fool of herself with Lindsey.

Buffy curled up into a little ball, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't allow herself to sob. She didn't want Angel to know that she was crying. She was afraid he would think she was trying to manipulate him into feeling sorry for her.

She was awake for a long time, watching his silhouette. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell asleep, unconsciously shifting onto his back to get more comfortable. Swamped with guilt, but needing comfort, Buffy inched nearer and nearer to him until she was pressed against his side. In his sleep, Angel sighed, turning so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

---

Buffy had never been a morning person, so it wasn't a shock that she had slept later than Angel. But his absence from their bed on a lazy Sunday morning pulled at her heart. How was she ever going to gain his forgiveness? Buffy was no longer hung over, but her heart was so heavy that it was almost as physically painful.

Angel was sitting at the kitchen table when she finally went downstairs, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. He did not glance up as she entered the room, but she saw the muscles in his jaw flex. Oh, he was mad.

"Angel," she ventured quietly.

"I am not ready to talk to you yet, Buffy," he said coldly, turning the page of the paper.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her own waist. She deserved whatever he could dole out.

---

Buffy had a constant headache for the next week. Between Joey's incessant bitching about being grounded, Angel's icy cold shoulder and upcoming midterms, she was so frazzled she hardly knew where to turn. Her school matters also weren't helped by the fact that aside from attending class, Buffy did not do anything else with her classmates. Lindsey she refused to even look at, and she backed out of all the group study sessions, making sure she was home each night.

Little by little, Angel thawed. He was undoubtedly angry with her, but her guilt was genuine and he had to know nothing significant happened with Lindsey. By Wednesday night, he hadn't even fallen asleep yet when he spooned against her back, burying his face in her hair. Friday morning he actually said hello to her. Saturday afternoon when he returned home from work to find Buffy and the girls watching a movie, he wordlessly picked Buffy out of the overstuffed chair before sitting down, depositing her in his lap and proceeding to eat her entire bowl of popcorn. Sunday morning, when he reached for her, Buffy giggled in relief. Hours later, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair back from her face and swore vehemently, "I love you, Buffy, forever."

---

Monday morning after her first class, Buffy went to the garage to see if she could catch Angel. Even though he spent the majority of his time managing the new developments, Roarke Autobody was still his first love. He worked alongside his employees regularly. He liked the physical labor and enjoyed getting his hands in the thick of the matter.

The day was bright and lovely and Buffy was in a terrific mood. She was so overwhelmed with happiness that she had avoided losing Angel and she just wanted to bask in his presence for a little while before she went back to classes.

She walked into the garage and saw it was deserted. No one was working. She smiled to herself. She knew they all liked to sit around in the late morning and have coffee together from time to time. She approached the office door and immediately bristled as she heard Faith's voice coming from inside. Shaking off her negative attitude took a second and she stood behind the door. Faith was an employee and nothing else. Buffy needed to remember that.

"I never got a chance to thank you for coming to dinner with the Nabbits." Angel's deep voice rumbled.

"No problem," Faith answered in her low throaty voice. "You needed a hot chick to make that nerd boy stumble all over himself."

Buffy veins turned to ice as she pushed open the door and eyed Angel furiously. All the happy, floaty thoughts she had mustered disappeared in an instant. Faith was sitting on the corner of Angel's desk. As always she had enough cleavage showing to leave nothing to the imagination. Buffy wasn't even sure how she got under cars with her skin tight clothing on, but somehow she managed.

"Faith," Buffy greeted coolly.

"B," Faith said with a nod. Turning to Angel she said lightly, "Well, I guess break time's over."

Faith barely got through the door when Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, cocked out her hip and planted a severe glare on Angel before speaking through gritted teeth. "You tortured me for a week or more for going out with Lindsey! You wouldn't even speak to me or touch me. I went through hell and you…YOU went out with Faith!"

"It was a business dinner," Angel said, rising to his feet. "It's not the same thing."

"No!" she shouted, "It's worse! You know how I feel about her being alone with you after the times she tried to seduce you. I can't believe you would do that to me! I was in HELL and you had the audacity to treat me like I was not even worth a discussion!"

"I had dinner with Faith," Angel shouted. "After you repeatedly turned me down for your study group with LINDSEY!" He was furious, breathing hard as he glared at her. "I needed a fourth person to round out the dinner, Faith was willing and able. She did it as a favor, nothing more. This is in no way on par with you getting drunk and going to a college party where you let some … some … BOY paw you like you were a two bit whore!"

Buffy stared at him in open shock. Angel straightened his spine and stuck his chin out, posturing in exactly the same manner Joey did when she knew she'd stepped over the line.

"A whore?" Buffy repeated in a near whisper. "That's what you think of me?"

Angel's mask of indifference vanished in a second and he quickly crossed the distance to her, his hands held out in a placating gesture. "That's not what I meant," he quickly amended.

Buffy jumped back, hissing at him in blinding fury. "Don't touch me!"

Angel paced around the room in a tight circle, dragging his hand through his hair. "Buffy, you just … you just have to understand. Do you have any idea what it's like for me? You have all these new friends, these *young* new friends. This Lindsey kid is what? A dozen years younger than you?"

"So what," Buffy spat. "I can't be friends with someone younger? I'm so old and decrepit that I couldn't possibly have anything in common with someone so vibrant and young?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Angel said seriously. His face fell. "Buffy, it's just that … do you have any idea how this feels for me? That you would prefer the company of some stupid, hotheaded kid to me? What do you think people think when they see you with Lindsey, even if you are just friends?"

"I don't know," Buffy countered angrily, "that we're classmates, that we like the same jokes, that we're FRIENDS!" She glared at him for several more moments and then it all clicked into place. She felt bile rise at the back of her throat as she was swamped with disgust.

"Is that what this is about?" she demanded. "Has your precious male pride been wounded because I'm friends with a younger man?"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw set hard. But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh. My. Gawd!" Buffy yelled angrily. "That's it. You're afraid that people think maybe you're not doing your husbandly duty so some kid is stepping in to fill the void."

Angel snorted. "Yeah, well, is it really such a stretch?" he asked her pointedly. "He is young and different. He's a brain and goes to law school with you. You can have conversations with him that you could never have with me. He's from old money."

Buffy shook her head. "You're not turning this around on me," she said. "I'm fairly sure that by the mere fact that I'm *married* to you, that I gave you two *children* that people can figure out whose company I prefer. So I'm friends with Lindsey. So what? You made me feel like shit for dancing with him and all the while you'd taken that lying, cheating, skanky little whore to dinner with your business partner without so much as mentioning it to me."

"Faith is my friend," Angel said tightly. "Nothing more."

"Yeah," Buffy said with a snort. "Your friend with the blow-up doll body who it just so happens has been trying to nail you for the last fifteen years. Your friend who shares all your stupid little jokes, who knows how to fix cars, who can drink any Hell's Angel under the table down at your dad's bar. The friend that I had specifically asked you not to see."

Angel growled in frustration. "What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

Buffy stared at him defiantly. Impetuously, it came to her. "Fire Faith," she said flatly.

Angel stared at his wife for a moment and then shook his head in exasperation. "I can't fire Faith," he said. "She runs the fucking shop. Without her, Roarke Autobody would never turn a profit."

"I don't care," Buffy said coldly. "With Roarke Enterprises taking over California, Roarke Autobody doesn't need to turn a profit. Fire her."

Angel looked at his wife, convinced she was having some sort of meltdown and that everything would be better when she calmed down. "I won't fire Faith," he informed her shortly.

"Then I want you out of my house," Buffy told him, tears glittering in her eyes.

Angel stared at her dumbly. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Out. Today. And I'm not kidding."

He tried to reach for her, but she twisted out of his grip, snarling like a thing possessed. He quickly released her, but could do nothing more than stare at her back as she stomped out of the shop.

---

Angel thought a lot about the week that he didn't speak to Buffy. He thought about the many times he hung around with Faith when he knew Buffy would not approve. It had been difficult to remain angry with her so finally he just gave it up. Seeing the sorrow on her face was more than he could stand, but this…this was so much worse. In the years they had been together, she had never kicked him out, never actually made him sleep on the couch even when she threatened it and never for any reason flung herself away from his touch like that.

Fear twisted in the pit of his stomach when he went home late that evening. He worked hard all day and even booted Faith off the last car and sent her home just so he could absorb in the task. Nothing worked.

He stepped into the house tentatively and looked around. Joey and Samantha were sitting primly on the couch side by side. The television was off, there were no books, no conversation. They simply sat there.

"Where's your mother?" he asked quietly. He could tell by their faces that his fear was not in vain. Something was very, very wrong.

"She's upstairs," Samantha said quietly.

"She's packing your stuff," Joey added. Simultaneously, she jumped off the couch and burst into tears. "She's not really making you move out, is she, Daddy?"

He kissed her forehead lightly and then pulled away, saying nothing. What could he possibly say to his daughters? He didn't even truly understand why she was kicking him out. He headed up the stairs and approached the bedroom door cautiously. Three suitcases stood in a neat row by the door and she stood there with her arms crossed, waiting.

"Baby, I know you're angry with me," Angel said quietly, "but we can work this out. Let's just sit down and talk about it."

"I want you out," she said. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red and swollen, announcing that she had spent a great deal of the time crying. Her voice was hoarse and if that wasn't enough, it seemed like her entire body was shaking.

"Please don't do this," Angel pleaded quietly. "I love you, Buffy. I'll make it up to you."

"You lied to me," she said, struggling not to cry. "You called me…you called me a whore. Get out of my house."

"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered, daring to take a step closer.

"GET OUT!" she raged, tossing the first thing she could find at him, which happened to be the alarm clock. "Get the hell out of my house, Angel!"

"I'm your husband, Buffy!" he shouted back, ducking the alarm clock. It barely missed his temple and crashed into the wall in the hallway. Desperate to stop the inevitable, he kept talking, "We have children! Think about this, Buffy. You don't want me to leave."

"Get out, Angel," Buffy growled, "or I'll have you thrown out."

Giving into her wishes was the last thing Angel wanted to do, but he knew it would be for the best. If her winging the alarm clock was any indication, she was far too angry to attempt any rational discussion of the situation. And truth be told, Angel couldn't stand the thought of his daughters hearing their argument, seeing their anger. As much as it tore him to pieces, he knew he had to leave or both he and Buffy were going to do some things they would really regret.

Morosely, Angel took the suitcases downstairs. As soon as she saw him, Joey burst into hysterical sobs. Angel had been prepared for Joey's reaction, but at the sight of Samantha, his ever-composed little princess with tears streaming down her cheeks, his heart broke. Taking great care to keep his voice even and his expression neutral, Angel set down the suitcases and beckoned his daughters closer. They both latched on to him, sobbing and Angel did his best to soothe them, kissing the tops of their heads.

"Everything will be fine," he told them. "Don't worry about it. Me and your mom will get this all worked out."

Joey sniffled loudly and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Where are you going?"

Angel stared at her blankly for a moment. He had no idea where he was going actually. "I'm not sure," he said. When that set off another crying fit, Angel shushed her. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I have my cell phone with me, call me if you need anything."

As he pulled out of the driveway, watching his daughters who were standing in the open doorway, a tear trickled down Angel's own cheek. He quickly tried to shake it off. This was just a fluke. Buffy was irrationally upset. Tomorrow he would talk to her and they would get everything sorted out. He wouldn't even have to unpack.

---

The first week was absolute hell. Buffy had been prepared for Joey's rebellion. Lashing out was how her younger daughter reacted to any sort of stress, it only stood to reason that in this situation, she would be a hundred times worse. And she was. Three times, Buffy was forced to have a very stilted phone conversation with Angel, informing him that he had to come over to the house and make sure Joey went to school. As far as Buffy knew, Joey had gone to school, but Buffy took great care to make sure she wasn't present when Angel arrived. If he called and wanted to talk to her about one of the girls, Buffy grit her teeth and forced herself to be civil, if he wanted to try and guilt her into letting him back into the house, she merely hung up the phone.

Samantha's reaction, however, had come as a shock. Samantha was always composed, impossible to ruffle and exceedingly headstrong. Buffy had expected her to take her father's relocation in stride the way she took everything else. She didn't. Samantha didn't act out the way Joey did, but she had her own ways of expressing her unhappiness. The entire week after Angel moved out, Samantha did not utter a single word to her mother, did not shoot a single glance in her direction.

Buffy had just spent Saturday morning being treated like she didn't exist when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Willow on the other side. "Will," Buffy said, so startled she almost dropped her coffee cup. "What are you doing here?"

Willow smiled guiltily. "Angel called me," she said.

Buffy's smile faded. "He had the nerve to call my best friend and ask you come all the way from Seattle to see me?" she fumed.

Stepping inside the house, Willow frowned at her. "Did you really kick Angel out?" she asked quietly.

Buffy flushed. She glanced into the living room where her daughters were still pretending they lived alone in the house. "Let's go upstairs," she said to Willow.

They were quiet as they walked upstairs to Buffy's bedroom, closed the door and sat down on the bed. Buffy's hands were clasped tightly around her coffee cup. "I kicked him out," she said seriously.

"Buffy, what happened?" Willow asked, slightly frantic. "I mean, I know you and Angel have had some rough spots, but I never expected this. Why didn't you call me?"

Buffy stared at her hands. Of course, Willow had a point. How could she do something so momentous without even mentioning it to her best friend?

Willow cleared her throat quietly. "Angel says you have a lot of new friends," she offered.

"Classmates from law school," Buffy said offhandedly.

"He said that you've been spending a lot of time with them, one in particular."

Buffy's head snapped up and she looked at Willow. But Willow's expression wasn't judgmental. It was confused and slightly hurt. Buffy laughed punchily. "Yeah," she said derisively, "my new friends. Did he mention his old friends?"

"Old friends?" Willow repeated, confused.

"Faith," Buffy said, spitting out the woman's name like a curse.

Willow nodded solemnly. She well remembered their junior year in college when Angel hired a new mechanic at the shop. Like Angel, Faith had a rough life. They had a lot of similar experiences, a lot of things to commiserate about. While Angel insisted he saw Faith as only a friend, Faith wasn't so noble. She went out of her way to try and snag Angel, doing everything she could to undermine Buffy and Angel's marriage. Somehow, Buffy and Angel managed to get through that time, but it was always a touchy subject.

"I went out with a friend from law school, Lindsey. Had a few too many drinks, went dancing ... Angel didn't speak to me for a week. He called me a whore – " Buffy clamped her mouth shut, choking back a sob. "And all the while, he'd taken Faith to this damn dinner meeting without even mentioning it to me. It's like if he doesn't think it's a big deal, it isn't. He has no respect for my opinion on the matter. He tells me I'm being paranoid, but when the situation is reversed, he makes me feel like trash." She buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

"Oh, Buffy," Willow said, pulling her close.

---

"Come on."

Joey looked up sullenly at her older sister's very determined countenance. "Why? Where are we going?"

"To find Daddy," Samantha said evenly, her high heels clicking on the floor as she headed for the front door. Joey fell in line behind her sister and they both went through the front door without so much as a shout in their mother's direction to let her know they were leaving.

Samantha slid behind the wheel of her mother's SUV and carefully checked all of her mirrors, before buckling herself in and checking that Joey had done the same. Joey was sure ten fucking minutes had passed before her sister finally backed from the driveway.

Their father wasn't at the garage, which was the first place they checked. He wasn't at Grandpa's bar, so they headed directly for Grandpa's house. Both girls groaned in unison when Samantha announced that was their next destination. Despite the fact that their grandfather had never bothered to move from the hovel trailer he lived in, he married a woman who was the same age as their parents. They stood tensely side by side and knocked on the door, bracing themselves for whatever came next.

"Girls!" Harmony, their un-grandmother squealed when she opened the door. Samantha eyed the woman her grandfather had married with one severe sweep. Harmony had her long blonde hair hanging freely down her back with no discernable style. Samantha, whose golden locks never dared to stray from her rule, was tempted to snarl. Apparently at one time Harmony had been in her mother's inner sanctum and had lived by fashion laws. Samantha could see some of that in Harmony as much as it pained her to admit it. Harmony's dress was only slightly out of style, but it was designed for a much younger woman.

"I'm so excited to see you! We have so much to talk about," Harmony panted at her step-granddaughters.

"Is our father here?" Samantha asked politely but briskly. Joey opened her mouth to add a comment but Samantha squeezed her arm gently and shot her a glare that made her quiet instantly.

"He's in the living room watching television with Jake," Harmony said, waving off their question. "We should go do stuff! I never get to see you."

"We're really in a bit of a hurry," Samantha answered in the same brisk tone. "Maybe some other time." They brushed past her and went into the living room which was about four steps from the front door. Their Grandpa and their father sat side by side engrossed in some sort of motorcycle race. They both were nursing beer already and from the look of the scattered bottles around the trailer, they had been at it for quite some time. Angel was slumped in a pair of dirty jeans and a wife beater.

"Daddy!" they both gasped.

"Dammit Harmony," Angel slurred drunkenly. "I told you I didn't wanta see anyone."

Joey gaped at her father, tears welling in her eyes. Samantha merely crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"Don you take ‘at tone with me," Angel slurred, pointing a finger at Samantha, totally missing the fact that she hadn't actually spoken yet. "Ya look just like yer mother."

Turning, Samantha looked at Joey. "Get his suitcases and put them in the Jeep," she ordered. Joey opened her mouth to protest and Samantha just snapped, "Now!"

Turning back to Angel, Samantha summarily pronounced, "You're a mess, Daddy."

"Thank you, sweetheart," he rejoined sullenly.

From his recliner, Angel's father watched Joey lug the suitcases out the door. "I guess you're leaving," he said, trying to hide a smile. Jake Roarke was mean to everybody, it was just his nature, but even though he was overly gruff with his granddaughters, he adored them completely. Both those girls had some fire in their veins. He knew his son didn't stand a chance.

"Get up, Daddy," Samantha ordered. "We're leaving."

Angel opened his mouth to argue with his daughter but fell silent. He'd seen that look on her face before and he knew there was no use fighting. Samantha usually made a concerted effort to go along and get along, but when she finally put her foot down, there was no changing her mind. And besides, while he appreciated the fact that his dad let him crash in the spare room, he really wanted to get away. Harmony's grating voice was about to drive him insane. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and followed his daughter out the door.

Two hours later, Angel was finally sober and nursing a very serious headache. He was sprawled across the Jeep's back seat as Samantha and Joey sat in the front arguing over apartments in the classified ads.

"Daddy, wait here, Joey and I are going to go look at this place," Samantha called.

Angel couldn't do anything more than grunt in her general direction, wincing as the car doors slammed.

Joey followed Samantha sullenly up to the apartment complex's office. She was scowling like mad as the leasing agent walked them through one of the display apartments. Smiling politely to the leasing agent, Samantha grabbed her sister's arm and dragged her inside one of the bedrooms. "What's your problem?" Samantha demanded.

"Daddy doesn't need an apartment," Joey seethed. "He needs to move back home."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Think of the big picture," she said.

"What big picture?" Joey demanded in exasperation. "Mom kicked Dad out of the house and now you're helping him find an apartment. You should be helping him get back in the house."

"He and Mom are going to get back together," Samantha informed her sister flatly. "But in the mean time, he needs a place to stay. Mom's not going to want him back if all he does is go over to Grandpa's and get drunk. He needs to be appealing, independent. We need to show mom what she's missing."

"Oh," Joey said, struggling to follow the logic.

"And besides," Samantha said, "when he moves back in, I get the apartment."

"Hey," Joey said, her eyes lighting up. "An apartment would be cool."

"I said ‘I', not ‘we'," Samantha countered.

"If you want my help, it's we," Joey said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Samantha seemed to consider it for a moment before snarling, "Fine." She looked around the apartment. "Daddy can't stay here," she pronounced. "There's no natural light."

It took most of the day to find a place that was adequate for their father and more than adequate for the girls' future use. They finally found what they were looking for on the richer side of town. The apartment was absolutely stunning with newly refinished hardwood floors, three large bedrooms and a fireplace. A set of sliding glass doors led to a veranda perfect for getting uninterrupted rays. There were two full bathrooms, one off the Master Bedroom and another in the hallway. The apartment was perfect and they managed to talk the leasing office into letting them have it right away. The girls were thrilled, and stunned when Angel was not.

"Daddy, maybe you didn't notice the crown molding," Samantha urged gently. "This place is perfect."

"Honey, the rent is ridiculously high," Angel said, trying to keep the groan from his voice when every syllable made his head pound a little harder. "And I don't want crown molding or natural light. I want a bachelor pad. I want stained carpet. I need a veranda-free environment."

"Sorry, Daddy, but we can't always get our way," Samantha quipped, pushing the paperwork toward him. "You need natural light and a beautiful spacious place. I'll not have my father living in some place like that."

"Does your mother know about this?" He asked eyeing them curiously.

"Are you fucking kidding?" Joey said with a laugh, eyes glittering with rebellious fun. "She doesn't even know we took the Jeep!"

Angel's eyes narrowed and Samantha elbowed her sister. "I beg you not to help me."

Samantha brightened her best smile for her father and pulled the lease smoothly from his hands before handing it to the wary leasing agent. The guy knew that Angel Roarke was a very wealthy man, but he looked like he belonged in a different part of town.

"Daddy, do you want to come along to buy your furniture?" Samantha asked brightly.

"You bet. I'm not leaving you alone to get me some frou-frou couch. I want a bachelor couch and a bachelor bed," Angel growled.

Samantha clucked her tongue disapprovingly at her father. "You're not a bachelor, Daddy."

Joey nearly choked to death to keep from laughing. She always thought she was the bad one, trying to pull the wool over her parents' eyes, but Samantha steamrolled her father like nothing she had ever seen. It was absolutely terrific.

---

Angel turned in a slow circle, taking in his new, hopefully temporary, home. While agonizingly hung over in the back of his estranged wife's SUV, Angel had warmed somewhat to the idea of having a place of his own. When Buffy had first booted him out of the house, his reaction had been disbelief. When it finally did sink in that she was serious, he'd been overwhelmed by fear like he'd never known. Buffy was his life, his love, his entire world. If she didn't want him, what good was he?

But it wasn't in Angel's nature to wallow in his misery, so he'd become defiant. If Buffy didn't want him, then fine. He'd just destroy himself and see how she liked that. Granted, getting drunk and hanging out at his Dad's trailer wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And he was relieved by the time Samantha arrived and ordered him outside.

While he still would have preferred to go home to his own house, his own bed and his own wife, he was forced to consider the merits of having an apartment. Angel realized he'd never lived on his own, not counting the couple nights a month his Dad would kick him out and he had to crash with Oz or Spike. Nope. Angel had gone right from living with his Dad to living in Buffy's basement. So the idea of having a place that was his, that could be a guy hangout was very novel.

As he lay there trying not to let his head explode from the pounding, he had visions of some dank little hole in the wall where the only working appliances were the microwave and the fridge. He had visions of all night poker games and having no fear in renting all the porn a man could watch.

Somehow his fantasy bachelor pad hadn't had vaulted ceilings, skylights, natural hardwood floors and a membership to the onsite gym. He sighed in defeat looking at the tasteful, yet functional, furniture Samantha had picked out.

Of course, this was for the best. Samantha was right, if his baby girls were going to be staying with him at least part of the time, he couldn't live in some rat infested apartment. And hopefully, he wouldn't have to stay here long either.

---

Willow looked out the kitchen windows at the quickly darkening sky. "Are you worried about the girls?" she asked.

Buffy sighed. "No," she said. "I'm sure they're with their father. Samantha and Joey don't do anything social together."

"They're angry with you," Willow said. It was more of a statement than a question, but its intent was passed along. Willow was worried.

Buffy nodded as Willow turned to face her. Buffy's took a deep breath and struggled not to cry as she looked mournfully at her best friend. "They think I'm this ogre who made their perfect father leave," she choked out. "If you could have seen the look on his face when he called me a whore, Will, you would understand. I devoted my entire life to him and our children and all he does is work. He just wants to make money and then come home and be the good guy all the time."

"It's okay, Buffy," Willow whispered, pulling her into a hug. "Everything is going be okay. You'll see."

"I don't know how to live without him, Will," she sobbed. She held on for dear life and poured her heart out, crying so hard her entire body shook. "And I'm so angry with him. I can't stand it, Will. I can't stand it."

---

"Holy shit," Joey whispered, her mouth dropped open in shock.

Samantha shushed her sister and watched in awe as her mother cried in her best friend's arms. She had seen her mother upset and had even seen her eyes well with tears, but never in her entire life had she seen something so heartbreaking as what she had just witnessed. She only wished they had been close enough to make out the sobbed words her mother was speaking.

After a few minutes, Joey backed away and Samantha tiptoed after her. Joey went straight to the front door, opened it and slammed it closed again before shouting. "Mom?"

"We're in here," Willow called back, louder than necessary.

"When's dinner?" Joey shouted back, still trying to shake off the image of her mother sobbing to so openly. "I'm fucking starving to death!"

"Language!" Buffy shouted back in a voice that was almost clear. Almost, but not quite.

Samantha took Joey's hand in hers and squeezed it, her hazel eyes gleaming with challenge and hope. "We're going to fix everything, Joe," she whispered.

"You bet your candy ass we are," Joey whispered back.

More