"Remember The Time"
Author: Indie & Tango
Email: indiefic@hotmail.com/tangofic@hotmail.com
Buffy eyed her daughters warily as they picked at their pizza. Neither of them, not even Joey, the bottomless pit, seemed interested in the food. Buffy hadn't even attempted, settling instead for yet another cup of coffee.
"Dad has an apartment," Samantha offered quietly. "Off Crestwood. In that new development next to the park."
Buffy couldn't help it, despite her miserable mood, she laughed. Willow, Joey and Samantha all looked at her strangely. "Sorry," she said, "but I know your father didn't pick it out."
"Daddy just needed some .. help," Samantha replied carefully.
Buffy took a deep breath. "How was your father?" she asked quietly.
"Good," Joey offered eagerly. "He looked good. I mean really good. We saw him at the shop at all these women were just swarming all over him. I think he might have started working out a lot more too – ouch!" Joey glared at her sister, nursing her sore shin.
"I see," Buffy said suspiciously, knowing full well that of all the ways her husband coped with stress like this. Doubling his normal workout and flirting with customers weren't in the rotation. Most likely, he'd been stinking drunk at his father's trailer for the last week.
"He's upset," Samantha said quietly. "But I think he's getting a little better."
Buffy nodded solemnly, trying to ignore how much the thought of Angel being miserable tore her heart to pieces.
Hours later, Buffy and Willow sat together on the couch, both nursing a small snifter of brandy. "So, Lindsey," Willow offered, "sounds like she's not Angel's favorite person."
Buffy took a gulp, wincing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. "*He* isn't Angel's favorite person," she corrected.
Willow's mouth made a perfect round ‘O'. "I see," she said. Silence hung heavy in the air and Willow finally mustered the courage to ask, "Do you care about him?"
"About Angel?" Buffy asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "Of course, I care about him. He's my husband."
"I mean Lindsey," Willow replied patiently.
Buffy winced guiltily. "He's ... " She trailed off, sighing loudly. "I don't know what Lindsey is. A problem mostly."
"Are you attracted to him?"
Buffy wouldn't meet Willow's gaze. "He's an attractive man," Buffy admitted. "He's funny and smart. He's a lot different from Angel. He's spoiled, lazy when he wants to be. There's a kind of coldness to him, something that makes you think he's been hurt really bad in the past. He always plays it off."
"And does this dark horse like you?"
Buffy blushed. "Lindsey's pretty up front about what he wants from me."
"And that would be ..."
"Sex," Buffy answered honestly. "I don't know if he wants anything else. I don't know if Lindsey is capable of anything else. But there is definitely a physical attraction between us and he does his best to exploit it."
"So I'm guessing Angel wasn't being totally paranoid."
Buffy frowned at her friend. "I have a ... flirtation ... with Lindsey. It's harmless. I mean, yes, I danced with him and I spent an entire week beating myself up over it. But nothing happened."
Angel wasn't sleeping well - or at all actually. He tried to sleep at night only to remember that he wasn't snuggled against Buffy as he had for the last eighteen years. Now that his daughters could find him, he couldn't wallow in alcohol anymore to help him sleep, as much as he dearly wished he could. Instead, he picked up hours helping out his father at the bar at night just to kill time. After closing, he cleaned the place from top to bottom, spending whole nights making the floors gleam. He was pretty certain no one had mopped the floor there since his father bought the place.
Three o'clock in the morning found Angel in the onsite gym of his new apartment complex making friends with the 24 hour accommodations. He worked out until every muscle burned, until he could barely move and then he went back to his apartment and showered. Sometimes he could get an hour of sleep or so, but usually, he just missed his wife.
He couldn't sit still or lay down for long. His arms ached from not being able to hold Buffy. He saw his daughters regularly since they loved his apartment so much and seemed to want to spy on him, but it wasn't the same. He wanted to be in his house, making love to his wife and sleeping for more than a few hours a night.
The rest of his time was spent at the garage, fixing everything that he could possibly fix. The long days at the garage however, were also spent with Faith. He started getting nervous around her, thinking about Buffy walking in at any moment. It got to the point that when Faith spoke him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Okay, what the fuck is going on, Angel?" Faith demanded finally after days of being treated like a bad habit. "You've been treating me like you think I'm going to start picking people off or something. What gives?"
"This isn't working," Angel groaned. "Look, I'm sorry about this, Faith, but you're fired."
She stared at him incredulously. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she spat.
He frowned. "Look I don't like this but – "
"But you're pussy whipped," Faith finished for him, a sneer on her face.
Angel nearly growled, advancing on Faith. "My wife kicked me out of my own goddamn house," he yelled. "This isn't a game, Faith, this is my family."
She stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. "Fine," she said, "I'm outta here."
Watching her go, Angel was wracked with guilt. But as much loyalty as he felt toward Faith, he had to get Buffy back.
"Uh ... " Angel looked dumbfounded at the bags of groceries sitting on the kitchen counter.
"Hello," Samantha chirped cordially as she proceeded to unload what were obviously supplied for some large-scale get together, stocking the cabinets and refrigerators.
"Are we preparing for a siege?" Angel asked.
Turning around, Samantha frowned at her father. "It's the Halloween party, Daddy. Remember, I told you about it."
"I remember you *asked* me about it," he said. "I also remember I said ‘no'." She rolled at her eyes, obviously unconcerned with his refusal. "Samantha," he continued, "I do not want thirty giggling girls in my apartment on Halloween night."
"Daddy, I know you're all prepared to brood and feel sorry for yourself or whatever, but it's *Halloween*. Joey and I have a few friends who are supposed to come over and we never thought you'd actually say no, so we invited them first."
She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against her lips thoughtfully. "I guess I can tell everyone to go to the house instead. I just thought you'd like company. I'm sure Mom'll be fine with us having people over at the last minute. When she asks why, I'll just tell her that you said-"
"Alright!" Angel groaned. "You're treading on thin ice, Samantha. I know when I'm being manipulated."
"I can't believe you'd think that," Samantha blustered in such a convincing tone, that Angel almost thought he was mistaken. He rolled his eyes. She was good but not that good.
"No alcohol," Angel growled, ticking the rules off on his fingers as he went. "No boys. No drugs. And no one goes in my room."
"Of course," Samantha said, nodding her blonde head in agreement.
"Keep the noise level down so the neighbors don't call the police," he added seriously. "And make sure your sister is here *inside* the apartment all night long, understand?"
"Perfectly," she sang out and rushed over to kiss him on the cheek. "You're the best, Daddy."
"Right," he said, rolling his eyes.
Buffy giggled as Lindsey followed her inside the house. It was well past midnight and the house was empty. She could hardly believe she had gone out somewhere on Halloween. Every year she stayed home with her daughters and had parties or helped them with last minute costume preparations.
This year had been different. Sure, it felt a little odd, but at the same time it was liberating. The regular group from school met up for a party at McGee's, their favorite club. There was a costume contest and lots of alcohol. Buffy had dressed up as a Brownie Cookie Girl ... well, okay, a naughty Brownie Cookie Girl. While the outfit was basically similar to the ones Samantha and Joey had worn as children, it was definitely tailored for an adult. Made from form fitting, slinky material, the dress clung to her curves. It was also low cut enough to flash generous amounts of cleavage. Buffy couldn't remember the last time she'd worn something so blatantly sexy in public. While Angel had no issue with her wearing sexy clothes in private, he got decidedly territorial if she tried to leave the house in them.
Lindsey had dressed up as well. Buffy wasn't sure what she thought of the pirate look, but she had to admit the hook had possibilities. They were both laughing and Buffy tried not to stumble as they finally made their way inside the house.
"Wait here," Buffy said. "I have to go change into something more comfortable."
Lindsey eyed her wolfishly. "Need any help?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "I don't mean more comfortable like that," she chastised. "I mean actually more comfortable. These shoes are killing my feet. Wait here."
Buffy was humming to herself, dancing around her bedroom as she shed the Halloween costume in favor of an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Lindsey had invited himself over for bad horror movies and against her better judgment, she had relented, but if Lindsey thought he was going to get inside her cute little costume, he was sadly mistaken. She was just pulling her hair back in a loose ponytail when she heard Lindsey yelp her name. Quickly, she hurried down the stairs.
Buffy glared, crossing her arms over her chest as she realized that Angel had Lindsey cornered in the living room. Angel was rumpled and shirtless as if he had been sleeping, which, needless to say, was odd. She hurried across the room and pulled on her husband's very cut and noticeably muscled arm.
"Angel, what the hell are you doing?" Buffy demanded, tugging on his arm until he turned to face her.
"What am I doing?" he growled, looming over her angrily. "What the fuck are you doing? What is *he* doing in *my* house with *my* wife?"
"Don't you mean your *whore*?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. She looked venomous and he took a step back.
"Baby…" he said, his voice just above a whisper. He had all but forgotten Lindsey's presence.
"Why aren't you at the apartment with the girls?" Buffy demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "You left them all alone there?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I left them alone there so I could try to sleep here. They're squealing and giggling and running around in…Buffy, they're barely wearing clothes. Three of them actually hit on me before I got out of there!"
"Well you're going back right now," she clipped. "They probably planned to get rid of you and then were going to have boys over. Samantha is dating a boy with a red sports car! Joey could be making out with some pierced thug! You have to go back right now!"
He looked so miserable, she almost felt bad for him. "Fine," he grumbled, clearly uneasy with the thoughts of some hoodlums molesting his little girls.
Buffy watched the play of muscles in his back as he walked over to the couch where he had obviously been sleeping and shrugged back into his shirt. Satisfied that he was indeed intending to leave, Buffy walked into the kitchen to get his mail. She returned to the living room just in time to see Angel smirk at Lindsey. Without waiting for Buffy to say a word, he grabbed his mail and headed out the door.
For nearly a minute, Lindsey's wide eyes were fixated on the closed door. He swallowed thickly, turning to face Buffy. "*That* is your husband?" he squeaked.
"No," Buffy countered, "he's some indigent parolee I let sleep on my couch."
Lindsey frowned. "This isn't funny, Buffy," he snapped. "You could have at least mentioned …"
"Mentioned what?"
"That guy's an animal," Lindsey nearly hissed. Try as he might he couldn't banish the mental image of Buffy's very large, very muscled, very tattooed and pissed husband. He knew that Buffy was upper middle class and her husband ran a large corporation. Lindsey had expected someone much older, much paunchier and a whole lot less capable of cold-blooded murder.
"Angel's not an animal," Buffy said quietly. "He's just … overprotective and meddlesome."
Lindsey snorted. "And why exactly was he sleeping on your couch?" he asked. "I thought you kicked him out."
"I did," Buffy rejoined irritably. "You'll notice he left to go back to *his* apartment to check on our daughters."
"Yeah, I got that," he snapped, "but why was he in your house in the first place? How did he get in?"
Buffy shrugged. "I'm assuming he used his key."
Lindsey stared at her dumbfounded for a moment. "Key?" he parroted. "Your estranged husband still has a *key* to your house?"
"Well, yeah," Buffy said, motioning helplessly. She bit her lower lip and looked over Lindsey's stunned expression for a moment. "What if there's an emergency? He needs a key to the house. Besides, what if something breaks?"
"Jesus Buffy," Lindsey said, shaking his head. "You're a law student and a man who looks pretty familiar with the prison system has a key to your house."
"He's my husband, Lindsey, and the father of my children. We've been married for eighteen years," Buffy announced, exasperated. "Besides," she mumbled, "he's only been to jail a couple of times."
"A *couple* of times?"
"Short times," Buffy amended, "and really they were just misunderstandings."
Buffy sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know," she said, "maybe we should just call it a night."
As much as Lindsey wanted Buffy, he had to admit she had a point. Being threatened with dismemberment by her husband had been quite enough to put a damper on his evening. Giving Buffy a quick kiss on the cheek, he left, vigilantly checking to make sure Angel wasn't waiting for him behind a tree.
Buffy slipped beneath the sheets with a heavy heart. Biting down on her lip, she stared at the telephone on her nightstand. Giving in to temptation, she picked it up and dialed the number from memory. This time she actually let it ring.
"What?" he snarled into the phone.
"Never mind," she mumbled.
"No, wait," he amended frantically. "Buffy?"
"I just wanted to make sure everything was okay when you got back to the apartment," she explained, hoping her excuse didn't sound as transparent to him as it did to her.
"Yeah, after I kicked out a couple of Hell's Angels that Joey invited over, everything was okay," he said tightly.
"Well, okay," Buffy said, "I just wanted to make sure."
He was silent for a long time and she could hear him take a deep breath. "Buffy, I miss you," he said softly.
Tears immediately sprung to her eyes. "I have to go," she said quickly, grateful her voice didn't crack. "Goodnight, Angel."
Buffy woke the next morning feeling completely drained. Thankfully it was a Saturday and she didn't have to do anything more taxing than study. Not even mustering the energy to put on real clothes, she merely pulled on a robe over her pajamas and headed downstairs. She was irritated with herself for her behavior last night; irritated that she missed Angel so intensely.
He was still as overbearing and bullying as he had ever been, maybe even worse. What she wanted and needed from Angel was respect. She was tired of being treated like the helpless wife and mother, like more of a piece of property than a partner.
Buffy sighed, knowing she was being overly melodramatic. She knew Angel loved her and she knew that he did respect her, but the mere fact that he was able to say things that were so hurtful to her, that he could disregard her feelings so completely, wounded her more than she ever imagined. She was going to be a lawyer, dammit, and she was going to have friends and she was going to go out and have some fun every now and then without feeling like she was betraying her family. She loved Angel and she loved her children, but she owed it to herself to have a life outside of them.
Feeling more resolved, Buffy lifted her chin. She saw the kitchen light was on and found Samantha sitting at the table going over paperwork. Pouring herself a cup of coffee that Samantha had obviously made, Buffy asked, "Little early isn't it?"
Samantha grunted and shrugged in a response that was pure Angel. Smiling and shaking her head, Buffy began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. Samantha finally looked up as Buffy set the plate of waffles down in front of her and took the chair on the opposite side of the table.
"You need to eat," Buffy said firmly.
Samantha rolled her eyes, but decided to humor her mother. As she pushed the paperwork aside to pull the plate closer, Buffy looked at it carefully. Her brow furrowed as she read the Roarke Enterprises letterhead on the paper. "Are you working for your father?"
Samantha cocked an eyebrow at her mother. "For Daddy?" Samantha repeated. "No."
"Explain," Buffy ordered.
Shrugging, Samantha said, "Well, Daddy obviously took the ‘you work too much' line to heart. He's at the shop a lot now, but he dumped almost all the day to day business of Roarke Enterprises on Wesley."
Buffy looked at her daughter carefully. People tended to write Samantha off at a glance. She was a pretty little princess with a wealthy, overprotective father. They seemed to put her firmly in the ‘bubblehead' category without so much as a second thought. But Buffy knew her daughter. She knew how much Samantha noticed things that other people would miss. "You don't trust Wesley?" Buffy asked cautiously.
"It's not that I don't trust him," Samantha countered. "It's just ... " She trailed off, looking at her mother with pursed lips, as if debating how much to reveal.
"I don't think his business prospectus for the company is aggressive enough," Samantha blurted out.
"Does your father know you plan on giving advice to Wesley?" Buffy asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"I plan on talking to Daddy about it," Samantha said quietly. "I think I have some fresh and innovative ideas that can really make a difference. I've been talking with Wesley on and off for the last week or so when he's trying to talk to Daddy. He needs help and Daddy is so busy trying not to think about you that he can't think about anything else."
"Sweetheart," Buffy said softly, "I think you would be a wonderful bonus to Roarke Enterprises. You should really talk to your father about helping out in a more official capacity, instead of just giving Wesley advice."
"Why don't you talk to him for me?" Samantha asked almost venomously. She took a deep shuddering breath and looked over at her mother. "I'm sorry. I really don't understand what happened, Mom. I keep waiting for you to explain it to us but you haven't."
"It's complicated," Buffy said quietly. She struggled to say more until her eyes filled with tears. "He hurt me, Sammy. I've lived my entire life with Angel. I've never known anything else but him. Now I need to take some time and figure out what I want."
"Mom, I don't know if this helps or not," Samantha said, "but he really, really misses you."
"I know he does, sweetie," Buffy said. "And I know he loves me, but sometimes, it's just not enough."
Samantha swallowed thickly, but squared her shoulders. "Do you regret having me?" she asked bluntly.
Buffy paled, her eyes wide. "Honey," she said, shocked. "No. Never. How could you think that?"
Samantha sniffled slightly, shifting uneasily on her chair. "It just seems like you're trying to make up for lost time," she said. "To make up for all the things you didn't get to have because of me."
"Samantha Roarke," Buffy said firmly. "Look at me. I do not regret having you. I do not regret marrying your father so young."
Reluctantly, Samantha met her mother's eyes and smiled weakly. "Okay."
"Sweetheart," Buffy said wearily, her grip tightening on her coffee mug. "Your father and I were so, so young when we got married. And like I said, I don't regret it. But there are issues. We grew up. Circumstances changed. I love your father," she said firmly. "But in so many respects, he wants me to be the same person that he married and I can't."
"Why not?" Samantha asked pitifully.
"Because I would be living a lie."
It took three good jabs at the pipe with her father's screwdriver to make the water leak noticeably. Joey grinned at the damage and snuck back upstairs. She had to edge along the wall to keep her mother and her sister from seeing her during their weepy heart-to-heart. Samantha could take the direct approach if she wanted for now, but Joey knew that in order to get her parents back together some serious conniving needed to take place.
She slipped through the front door and ran down the street and swung herself onto the Harley behind…Freddie? No, Eddie.
"It's really fucking early for this shit, Joey," Eddie announced as he started the Fat Boy onto the street toward her father's apartment complex. Joey grinned at the back of his skullcap helmet and let her hands caress just shy of his groin while her lips made their way over his throat. She didn't try to speak over the roar of the engine, but instead just hung on molding her body tightly with his.
The six minutes it took to get to the apartment was more than enough time for Joey to convince him that he had made the right choice by meeting her at the crack of fucking dawn. He pulled into the parking lot, out of sight of her father's apartment and Joey swung around, climbing over his body until they were face to face. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and kissed him, grinding herself in his lap.
"Thanks for the favor so early in the morning," she crooned, allowing him to place his hands on her ass and haul her in closer.
"No problem," he mumbled. "Now what do you want to do?"
Smiling coyly for a moment, she swung her leg over him and hopped down. "I gotta go, baby," she laughed. "My Dad'll wake up any second wondering where the fuck I went."
"Well…what about tonight?" he demanded.
"We'll see," she said, backing away, swinging her hips and smiling. "Talk to you later."
Joey took off running once Eddie was out of sight and toward her father's apartment. She stopped at the front door and caught her breath before sneaking in, pulling off her leather pants and crawling back into the sleeping bag between her friends. She closed her eyes again and smiled. Her mom should be calling any minute
An hour later when her mother still hadn't called, Joey was starting to get nervous. Thankfully, Samantha appeared at the door just as she was debating going back and doing more damage. Samantha's expression was drawn, her lips pursed together as she stepped over the still-sleeping bodies in the living room and found her father standing in the kitchen looking blindly out a window.
"Daddy," Samantha said softly, "you better go over to the house."
Angel's head immediately snapped to her. "What's wrong?" he asked, his posture immediately going rigid.
Samantha shrugged. "Some plumbing problem that mom's trying to fix by herself. If you want anything from the basement to be salvageable, I suggest you go over there right now."
Angel narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "Is this some ploy to get me out of here?" he asked suspiciously.
Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. We're going to start the rave any second."
"Samantha," Angel said, his voice rife with warning.
"Seriously," she said. "Go help before the entire house floods. We're not doing anything except hanging out and really, it's better if you're not here for that."
Still somewhat suspicious, Angel grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.
Ten minutes later, he found Buffy on the edge of a nervous breakdown, standing in ankle deep water in their basement.
"I don't know what happened," she blustered, gesturing around hysterically. She was soaking wet desperately trying to stop the spray of water with her robe by tying it around the leaking pipe. Her silk pajamas were clinging to her body seductively and Angel had to take a deep, calming breath before he approached her.
"Buffy, come on," he said, tugging her away. He peeled back her robe to briefly examine the pipe and then took her hand, leading her in the direction of the stairs.
"It's still leaking!" she announced. "The whole house is going to flood!"
"I'll fix it," he said, pulling her gently toward the stairs. Buffy allowed him to take her from the freezing pond that was quickly filling in her house. They slopped water everywhere as they reached the main level.
"I want to be self sufficient," Buffy said petulantly. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Angel. "Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen."
Despite his better judgment, Angel smiled and kissed her forehead. "Pretend you called a plumber. I'll be back. I have to get some parts."
Three hours later the leak was fixed, the basement was draining its water and Buffy and Angel were seeing what had been sitting on the floor previously that could be salvaged. After the fourth time Buffy had to tear her eyes off her husband's body to finish her work, Buffy cleared her throat loudly.
"Thanks Angel," she said, "I really appreciate your help."
"You're welcome," he answered.
"What started it?" she asked as Angel simultaneously said, "Did you sleep with him?"
"What?" they both blurted.
"Did you sleep with him?" Angel repeated plainly, far beyond the point of politeness. "Did you let him stay here with you last night?"
"Angel, that is none of your-" she started, but she didn't have time to finish before he pulled her up and on top of the washing machine. He kissed her possessively and groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Rather than fighting with the clinging silk, he ripped her pajama top open and bent to take one of her tightly erect nipples into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to keep him there, to relish in his familiar and arousing touch.
Suddenly the world dropped away and Angel wasn't standing in half a foot of cold water and he wasn't living in an apartment, estranged from the only woman he'd ever loved, he wasn't staying up nights racking his brain on how to make things better. For that one suspended moment, it was just him and his mate, his other half, working their way up to finally becoming one again.
Angel switched to her other breast, greedily sucking her neglected nipple into his mouth. He was starved for her and knew she felt the same when she began tugging at his wet t-shirt, struggling to get to his bare skin. He reluctantly released her breast long enough to remove the shirt. He tossed it away somewhere behind him and ignored the wet plop it made as it slapped against the remaining water.
They both hurried, moving frantically at getting each other out of their clothes before someone remembered this was not what they were supposed to be doing. They were eighteen again taking advantage of each other in the library while Giles wasn't looking.
Angel shredded her pajama bottoms as he had the tops, aching to be inside her again. She worked his belt buckle expertly, and pulled at his jeans until she freed his rock hard sex. She wrapped her hands around him and guided him inside herself. They groaned in unison as he filled her, stretching her delicate channel to accommodate him. It had been so long they nearly sobbed together with the sheer pleasure of it.
Angel slammed inside her and she bucked back, violently taking him. Buffy exploded seconds after he was inside, and again moments after that. Her body hadn't been so sensitive, so ripe and ready for so long and she cried out for him not to stop. He growled his agreement, plunging inside her again and again, lost in her scent, in the silk of her skin, in the taste of her.
When he finally felt the familiar tightening of his loins, he knew he was almost over and he gritted his teeth to keep it from ending. Reaching between them, he twisted her throbbing center between his fingers. She tossed her head back and jerked, squeezing her thighs against his hips and her inner muscles clamping down as she came. Devouring her mouth, Angel released inside of her.
She knew she should take charge of the situation, but it just felt so good to rest her head against Angel's shoulder as he ascended the stairs with her wrapped around his body. It felt natural to tighten her legs around his hips, to feel the flex of his muscles against her. He laid her back on the bed and she did nothing more than revel in the taste of him, in the pleasure of his touch.
She whimpered his name, more unashamedly wanton than she had ever been. He responded in kind, reacting to her not with words, but with soft, animal sounds, with teeth and tongue and body. She twisted, assuming the dominant position as she sank down on his once-again aroused body and rode him hard.
The coupling lacked their usual tenderness and playful banter. It was a near violent; animal and raw. Buffy dug her nails into his chest, arching her back to take him deeper. His rough palms found her breasts, kneading them as he rolled her nipples between his fingertips.
Angel bent his knees, shifting his weight onto his shoulders and bracing his feet against the mattress as he used the leverage to thrust up inside her. She mewled, raking her nails down his chest. With a growl, he threaded a hand in her hair and pulled her down for a carnal, possessive kiss. He bit at her lips, using teeth and tongue to mark his territory.
She broke off the kiss, nipping along his jaw before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as his fingers bit into her hips, pulling her down harder and harder against him. She keened, her sheath fluttering around him as she bit down on his neck, hard. Shouting her name, Angel joined her in release.
Ten minutes later, Angel was still trying to catch his breath. "Fuck me," he cursed, groaning.
"I don't think I can," Buffy rejoined with a short chuckle. "None of my muscles want to work."
Angel turned his head, finding her lips and kissing her gently as he rolled them both over onto their sides, their chests pressed tightly together. "That was ... "
"The most amazing sex we've ever had," she finished helpfully.
"Pretty much," he said with a tired sigh. "I hope you don't want a repeat performance because I don't think I'm up to it at the moment."
Her reply was a small snore.
Samantha and Joey were always embarrassed about the fact that their parents humped like bunnies. Other people's parents didn't seem to engage in these overt displays of affection. Other kids never mentioned their parents making out on the living room couch like mindless, hormonally driven teens. Joey figured it was because of their obvious love for one another that she and her sister never saw their break-up coming. It hit them both like a ton of bricks. After tending to Daddy for a few days, she saw it hit him just as hard.
So on Saturday evening when they came home and found the leak in the basement fixed and tattered clothing strewn all over the floor, they figured the plan had been a success. They were still embarrassed by the fact that the coupling between their parents had to have been somewhat rambunctious, but they both let it pass without comment. They were willing to put up with a great deal of naughty behavior if it meant their parents would be back together.
They never saw it coming when Buffy tossed Angel back out of the house that evening. Angel never saw it coming either. One moment they had been sleeping off their earlier activities, snuggled together in a bundle of warmth and afterglow. The next moment, Buffy was telling him he couldn't stay the night.
"What?" Angel asked groggily, looking at his wife like she had sprouted a second head.
"You can't stay here," she said quietly. "It'll only confuse the girls."
"The girls?" Angel echoed. "What about me? I'm confused as hell here, baby."
"I'm not ready to be back together," she said, kneeling beside him in bed.
"You're my wife," he growled.
"We're separated."
"Not legally."
"Do you want it to be legal?"
"No," Angel groaned. "I want to come home and live with my wife and children. I want to hold you every night and wake up with you every morning."
"I'm not ready," she repeated. "Angel, nothing's changed but sex, and as good as that is, it's not enough. I need to be on my own for awhile and so do you."
"Are you going to be seeing Lindsey?" he demanded furiously.
"Maybe," she answered. "I don't know."
"But you're not going to sleep with him," he prodded. Her silence tore out his heart and he stared at her for a long time, waiting for a miracle to happen. "Buffy please…"
"Just go, Angel."
For Angel, that was the last straw. Buffy was his life and hearing her tell him that he wasn't wanted ate at his soul like acid. Her initial rejection had shocked him into a stunned stupor. The eventual realization that he couldn't just come home had left him wallowing in a pit of despair. But this … this was too much.
"Fine," he spat venomously at his wife, throwing back the covers. He was sick of pining over her while she acted like he had no vested interest in whether or not she was fucking her little school buddy. He wasn't a goddamn doormat.
Buffy watched him stomp around the room, growling as he dug through drawers for some clothes he hadn't taken when he left. He eventually found an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt, harshly pulling on the clothes while he muttered and cursed under his breath.
He turned around, glaring at her with such animosity that she shrank back into the pillows. "This is bullshit," he bit out, "absolute bullshit. I'll leave, but this is the end of it, Buffy. I'm done begging you to let me come home. If you decide you want me, you know where I am."
Joey and Samantha watched in stunned silence from their positions on the couch as Angel stomped down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind himself with such force that the entire house reverberated. From her position at the top of the stairs, Buffy couldn't tear her eyes from the now closed door. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, willing herself not to cry. While she had spent countless weeks grappling with her life and Angel's place in it, being faced with the prospect of that outcome now being out of her hands rocked her to her foundation.
Angel stared at Rebecca's retreating form, almost unable to fathom what he had just done. When she glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled, he forced himself to return the gesture. He swallowed thickly. He had a date.
Sitting down heavily in the chair, Angel was overcome by a violent mixture of emotions. On one hand he felt vindicated and self-righteous. If Buffy could traipse all over town with her little boy toy, Lindsey, Angel was damned well entitled to do the same. But on the other hand, the whole situation felt so completely alien and wrong.
As he considered his daughters' reaction to the news, he actually cringed. They didn't understand Lindsey's role in Buffy's life and they wouldn't understand Rebecca – should she become someone they would notice.
He growled to himself. Rebecca was beautiful and sophisticated. In a different situation he would have been thrilled to be dating someone like her, but the horrible truth of the matter was that he just wanted Buffy. He wanted to sleep with Buffy and wake up with her. He wanted to make love to Buffy and fuck her like a mindless fool until they were melting into each other. Hell, he wanted her to bitch and yell at him when he worked too much or left his clothes on the floor. Anything but being tossed aside like he hadn't given his whole life to her.
He shook his head clear. He would date Rebecca. If he could, he might even sleep with her. Buffy could fuck the entire godamn school and he wouldn't care. He mentally berated himself for even thinking that outright lie and pushed himself back from his desk. He would be thankful if he could keep himself from killing that smartass little college boy before this was all over.
Buffy spent the rest of the weekend in a dazed regret that she hadn't expected, but she didn't cry. She was very proud of that fact. She didn't cry and she hardly slept and she barely spoke to her daughters. This whole thing was like a nightmare coming to life and the worst part of it was that it was all her fault. She was the one who was unsure of her relationship. Angel never had a second of wavering that she had noticed. He might have been angry with her but he never mentioned leaving her, never said he'd had enough.
She was a poophead. She broke the heart of the only man she'd ever loved and she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She didn't know what to think about the rest of her life, but the thought of living forever without Angel made her blood run cold. She was confused and hurt and terrified. None of that made her choice easier though. She had done this for a reason and she had to remember that. She wasn't making her family's life hell just for kicks.
Samantha was understanding or she played it off perfectly if she wasn't. She gave her mother a wide berth and was careful to be especially considerate at all times. Joey, on the other hand, was furious and confused. She planted that glare on Buffy that was identical to Angel's every chance she got, but she didn't say a word.
Monday morning, Buffy dropped the girls off at the shop before school per their request. She didn't see Angel and she was grateful for that. As she headed to the UC Sunnydale campus, she felt like she was underwater. She hadn't slept well in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time the thought of food was vaguely appealing. If she didn't find a way to pull it together soon, she was going to fail all her classes.
Buffy was seated in one of the uncomfortable little desks looking at her daily planner when Lindsey slid into the seat next to her. He was whistling a jaunty little tune as he reached over and placed a steaming cup of coffee onto the corner of her desk. Buffy managed a weak smile. "Thanks, but I don't think I can," she said wearily. Caffeine on top of how she was feeling was bound to make her nothing but jittery.
Lindsey's brow furrowed with concern. "You okay?" he asked.
She smiled tightly and nodded. "Fine," she said. "Just had a taxing weekend. Basement flooded."
"Damn," Lindsey said, "I hope you got it taken care of."
"Yeah, Angel fixed it," she mumbled.
Lindsey shot her a disapproving glance. "You know, Buffy, it would probably be a good idea to stop seeing your estranged husband."
"Oh trust me, I know," she said. "He told me as much on Saturday."
Lindsey was quiet for several long moments. So, Angel was finally getting tired of being dicked around. This was a very interesting development indeed. "Well, I guess you're free for our regular Tuesday night study group then," he said blandly.
Buffy looked from her planner to Lindsey and back again. Thanksgiving was in two weeks. This would be the first holiday where she might be alone. The first of possibly many. Her heart ached. "No, Lindsey," she said. "I can't." Regardless of what she might have told Angel, Buffy's attraction had little to do with matters. Yes, she found him handsome and intriguing, but it was more Angel's opposition to her friendship with Lindsey that made her want to pursue it than the friendship itself.
"Dad," Joey barked, kicking her father in the hip as he worked under one of the cars in the shop.
"What?" he snapped.
"You have to pick me up after practice," she said, completely unconcerned with his show of temper.
Angel pushed himself out from under the car and frowned at his daughter. "Can't Spike just give you a ride over to your mother's?" he asked. After replacing both Angel and Devon, Spike and Oz had gone on to be part of a phenomenally successful band. They had been so successful that Spike was free to spend his time doing nothing more taxing than traveling around the globe and, when he was in Sunnydale, helping Joey's band. But truth be told, Angel had totally forgotten about Joey's band practice…because he had a date. He couldn't exactly drag Rebecca along to pick Joey up. Well, okay, he could, but it wouldn't be recommended.
"Da-ddy," she whined, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
Angel's resolve was strong. "I'll talk to Spike and work it out with him," he said shortly.
"I don't want a ride from Spike," Joey complained. "I want a ride from you, besides, Spike's…busy. Yeah, he's really busy."
"Joe," Angel warned, rolling back under the car. He ignored that she kicked a tool across the garage and that she stomped out pissed off. If she was ever going to grow up, she would have to learn to live with disappointment now and then. Besides, he wasn't going to give up his first date in eighteen years because Joey had a preference on who picked her up. A twinge of guilt snuck up, but Angel held firm. It was ridiculous for him to feel guilty about choosing some woman over his daughter.
"Mom," Samantha said. Buffy had nearly made it out of the front door. "I need to go pick up Joey from band practice or you do."
"What?" Buffy echoed in confusion. "Angel always brings Joey home when Spike can't."
"Well, Spike wasn't there tonight and Daddy says he has plans and can't make it. Course, I'm sure he told her earlier he couldn't pick her up. She just doesn't think Daddy will ever really mean no," Samantha said, deliberately putting a clipped tone in her words.
"Plans?" Buffy asked, lost in thought. "Is he working late?"
"Not if some sexy, brunette wannabe actress is working," Samantha growled. She put her hands on her hips and glared at her mother. "Chloe works at that new Italian restaurant and she saw him walking in with her. She was in some teensy, little red dress. Slut. I hope he knows that if he hooks up with some tramp, I am not pretending to like her."
Samantha tossed her hair back irritably and pulled the keys from her Mom's lax grip. "I'll go get Joey before she starts making out with some metal head freak."
Pausing, Samantha gently guided Buffy into the kitchen. "Mom, you look all pale. Maybe you should have a glass of water while I'm gone."
"Wait," Buffy rasped, blinking at her eldest child. "He's on a…date?"
"Well, yeah," Samantha said, as if she were confused by the question. "I mean, I guess he was. He had his hand on her leg. Chloe said she has great legs too. You just *know* she's a slut if Daddy's already feeling her up after, like, five seconds. Anyway, I'll be right back, Mom, then you can go to your study session."
Briskly, Samantha pecked her mother's cheek and teetered out the door in her three-inch heels. She grinned once she got inside the Jeep and headed over to the garage where they practiced. Spike was waiting outside the door, smoking a cigarette and she slipped to her feet and sauntered over to him.
"Been waiting for you, luv," Spike said, flicking his cigarette away. He smoothed his hands over her hips and pulled her close. She allowed him one long, slow kiss before she pulled away.
"I have to get back home," she whispered, biting his neck. "Later."
"I'll be ducking through your window in an hour, pet," Spike said. "I expect you to be there."
"I might," Samantha said, tossing her long blonde locks over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
"Listen to me," Rebecca said in a self-deprecating tone, rolling her eyes, "poor little rich girl."
"We all got problems," Angel replied seriously. He liked Rebecca. She was intelligent and intriguing, if a bit too mysterious and self-absorbed for his taste. Talking to her was nice. Hell, enjoying a mutual attraction with someone was nice.
They chatted for a long time. Angel had just taken a drink of his wine when what he saw nearly caused him to choke. Before he could speak, Samantha and Joey both pulled up chairs at the table, looking expectantly between him and Rebecca.
"I'm sorry," Rebecca said, clearly confused by the interlopers.
"We're his kids," Joey said boldly, glaring at Rebecca. "The kids that live with him. The kids that are constantly at his shop. The kids that are going to inherit everything he has so no gold digging second wife could ever get her paws on a single red cent. The kids that could track him down more efficiently than a pair of bloodhounds if you ever even thought about taking a romantic vacation somewhere. The kids that – "
"Thank you, Josephine," Angel bit out, gripping his daughter's hand in his own. He smiled at Rebecca, his face flaming in embarrassment.
Rebecca recovered quickly. "Angel mentioned he had two daughters," Rebecca said politely. "I guess I just expected you to be ... younger."
"Got an early start," Angel said tightly.
"What about his wife?" Joey continued. "Did he mention her? Because he's still married. They're not even legally separated. He's just using you to get back at her."
"Inside now," Angel barked, glaring at his youngest daughter with barely veiled irritation. He walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel.
"But Daddy, I just – "
"You insulted Rebecca and you embarrassed me," he bit out. "I do not expect you to be happy about the situation between your mother and I, but I do expect you to be civil to my friends. If you cannot be civil, I expect you to bite your tongue."
"Really Daddy," Samantha said, sliding into the front seat before Joey could and crossed her legs, "we were just helping you out. Joey may be a bit excitable and rude, but she has a point. If you could have seen Mom's face when I told her about Rebecca-"
"You told your mother?" Angel asked tersely, pivoting in his seat to glare back and forth between his daughters. Joey bravely tried not to shrink back under her father's glare, but Samantha studied her perfectly manicured nails.
"She turned white as a ghost and I had to make sure she didn't pass out," Samantha said coolly. "I don't think I've ever seen her that upset in my entire life, so we decided to break up the date before something happened that we couldn't repair."
"Your mother made her choice," Angel snarled, putting the car in drive. "I don't want you two trying to manipulate me into feeling sorry for her."
"She hasn't been sleeping," Joey shot in from the back. "Or eating. In fact, her clothes are hanging off of her. She can't even concentrate to study."
"Thank you, Joey," Angel answered. "Let me make this plain. I know you two want us back together, but you're creating more problems, not helping. Now please, let us work this out."
"Yeah, cause you're both doing such a bang up job," Joey snorted loudly.
"What the?" Spike murmured under his breath as he climbed over the ledge to Samantha's window. Her lamp was on and he had no trouble making out her trembling shoulders or her tear stained face.
He padded quickly to her bedside, gently sitting on the mattress next to her. With a sniffle, Samantha half climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head.
Spike adored Samantha. Sure, he felt weird and more than a little pervy dating a girl he'd known since before she was even a glint her father's eye ... but self-loathing aside, he couldn't deny his feelings toward her. While he looked upon Joey with the affection of a beloved uncle or family friend, grinning at her antics and reveling in the misery she brought her parents, Samantha had always been a different story entirely. He'd never had the easy camaraderie with Samantha that he'd had with Joey. Which was just as well, because it could have made the time Angel brought his daughters to one of the stops on the band's farewell tour two years earlier even more awkward than it already was.
Spike hadn't seen Samantha in years and at first glance, he had thought she was Buffy. But upon closer inspection, he realized that the gorgeous young creature was Angel's daughter, not his wife. Samantha had been reserved, as always, guarding herself with icy control. But over the course of the night, they'd spent a good deal of time talking. He managed to draw her out of her shell and discovered that behind the rigid control, lurked a flirtatious and daring young woman. Upon that realization, he had quickly cut the night short, and gone back to the hotel to take the coldest shower in the history of man.
It was Samantha that had pursued him, surprising him with telephone calls so racy that his toes had curled. They spoke on the phone and over email for months. Spike tried, he really did, but Samantha wouldn't be dissuaded. And truth be told, he didn't want to be dissuaded either. He fell in love. Hard.
So, for the last year and a half he'd been sneaking around with one of his oldest friend's daughters. He pretended to be the doting family friend while he spent his nights sneaking into her room and praying her father wouldn't overhear. Luckily, Buffy and Angel were usually so busy themselves that it wasn't an issue.
Spike sighed, hugging Samantha tighter as her sniffles gradually began to subside. As much as he was in love with her, as much as he would do anything for her, Samantha had always maintained distance. Not just from him, but from everyone. She was always set apart, always in control of the situation. You never knew what she was thinking. And Spike had never, ever, seen her fall apart like this. "Sweetheart," he whispered, "what's wrong?"
She sniffled one last time and pulled back, blinking up at him with damp eyes. She seemed to be considering how much to trust him and Spike held his breath for interminably long seconds.
"My parents," she finally admitted sadly. "I just thought they needed the right push and they'd get back together, but now I don't know."
Spike nodded, brushing a few strands of hair back from her beautiful face. Though he had to admit, he found it much less stressful sneaking into the house now that Angel wasn't actually living in it, he knew that it was hurting Samantha.
Still sniffling, Samantha told Spike about what had happened that evening with her father and Rebecca. She told her about her mother's reaction to the news and about the flooding basement episode. Her tone was defeated and it struck Spike deeply. Samantha was never defeated. Ever. He always thought that she had been in control from the moment she came into the world. She did what was necessary and everyone else was expected to fall into line. The lost little girl sobbing on his shoulder was breaking his heart.
"So, Buffy's still seeing that lawyer ponce?" Spike questioned thoughtfully after a long, calming pause.
"Yeah," Samantha said. "He's a cocky son of a bitch. I really hope Daddy gets his hands on him someday."
"I'll tell you what, pet," he said softly, kissing the tears on her face. "Why don't we take Lindsey out of the picture? Your mother's picky enough. She won't find someone else worthy of her for quite some time if he's not threatening the issue."
"What could we do to get rid of him?" Samantha asked quietly.
Spike gave her a dazzling smile. "Lawyer boy will never see it coming," he answered.
Buffy changed clothes three times before her Wednesday night date with Lindsey. It was in the middle of the week and a school night. She should be studying but she couldn't get the picture out of her mind of Angel with another woman, touching her, making love to her. Just Samantha's description of his hand on the woman's leg was enough to make her insides twist.
She stared into the mirror and shook her head in disgust. It wasn't her clothes that were wrong. It was her. She had lost weight and since she was thin to begin with, it made her look haggard. Dark circles rounded her eyes so dark, cosmetics couldn't completely cover it. The most noticeable was the look in her eyes – sad, desperate, wild.
For a long time she stood staring at her reflection until she thought she could see right through herself. Her daughters and her husband were barely speaking to her. She was falling apart. This date with Lindsey would do nothing but help her hate herself just a little bit more.
When Lindsey arrived to pick her up, she forced herself to be far more cordial than she felt. Lindsey was the perfect gentleman, helping her with her jacket, opening all the doors. His car was a Mercedes, black and sexy as hell. The restaurant he picked was in the historic hotel downtown. Buffy had never been inside it before. When she suggested it to Angel, he just snorted saying it was too stuffy for his taste.
Buffy smiled at Lindsey as he poured her a glass of wine. She took in the atmosphere, the jazz combo playing lightly in the background, the soft, candlelit atmosphere. It was nice. Very nice. Buffy couldn't help but chuckle at the novelty of being wooed. She and Angel had just sort of fallen on and for each other. There was really no dating. It was like one second they didn't even know who the other was and the next moment they were spending the rest of their lives together. It had all seemed so perfectly natural. It wasn't this awkward, somewhat stilted rapport she had with Lindsey.
She smiled, taking a large drink of wine. She had to admit that the recent stress had taken a toll on her relationship with Lindsey. While she still liked him and found him attractive, she couldn't look at him without thinking about all the problems with Angel. More and more, Lindsey wasn't worth all the trouble. But Angel was moving on. That, more than anything, urged Buffy to see if she might have a spark with Lindsey.
By halfway through dinner, she was fairly sure whatever spark may have been there had been drowned. And at the moment, drowning sounded rather appealing. As Lindsey motioned toward her wine glass, Buffy nodded with a smile. Three glasses of wine were improving her outlook on things.
"Your place or mine?" Lindsey asked boldly.
Buffy smiled at him, slipping into the car as he held the door open. "Mine."
Buffy wasn't sure when she had noticed them, but she had. The dark haired couple sitting several tables behind Lindsey. They looked stunning together. The guy lacked Angel's raw masculine appeal, but he was handsome. The young brunette across the table complemented him perfectly. He wore a wedding ring, she didn't. Logically, Buffy knew it wasn't Angel and Rebecca, but looking at the couple chatting, hands brushing against one another, their inviting smiles ... she couldn't stop the images she had of Angel and his new fuck toy. Not caring if she looked like a lush, she'd finished off the bottle of wine.
Lindsey smiled at her without comment and drove them to her house. Buffy leaned against the soft leather seats and smiled. The wine had helped tremendously and her whole body felt so much better. Short minutes later, Lindsey was opening her car door and escorting her inside. He led her directly up the stairs and to the bedroom with a little direction from Buffy.
Once the door was softly closed, Lindsey pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Buffy pressed herself against him, enjoying the thrill of kissing someone who was not Angel. Lindsey's hands roved over her body more quickly and less expertly than Angel, who had memorized every plane of her years before. The more he touched her the more her heart began to race and she fought the urge to back away or jerk when he caressed more intimate places.
She threaded her fingers through his hair defiantly and tried harder to lose herself with him. He was sexy and although different, his touch was arousing. She kept very still as he unzipped the back of her dress and moved down to kiss her throat as he smoothed his hands over her bare back.
She tried to relax as he slipped the dress from her shoulders, trailing his fingers down her arms. She assured herself that she was attracted to him and wanted him to see her naked body. She wanted to give herself to him. She was so busy reassuring herself in a monotonous mantra inside her head that it took her a second to realize he had stopped touching her.
She opened her eyes. Her dress was pooled at her feet, leaving her just in her matching black lace bra and panty set and Lindsey was staring at the scars marring her abdomen. She had been so nervous, she had forgotten about them completely. Now, tears sprang to her eyes as she crossed her arms over her stomach and backed away, nearly tripping over her dress.
Lindsey had been, and still was, staring at her in utter horror. The scars were ugly, sure, they were definitely not something you'd see on a pin up girl and Lindsey clearly hadn't been expecting them. Angel always kissed them when they were in bed and often splayed his hand over her stomach, caressing them when they were just lounging around together. To him, they were a beautiful gift. To Lindsey, judging by the way he'd gone green, they were not.
Choking on a sob, Buffy ran to the gathered the bundle on the floor at Lindsey's feet and ran to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and crawled into the tub, clutching her dress and purse to her belly. Curling into a little ball, she began to sob. She heard Lindsey's voice through the door, but ignored it as he begged her to come out and talk to him. Nothing he could say would change the look on his face. The absolute revulsion in his eyes was enough for her to know everything she needed to know.
Angel had been at the onsite gym of his apartment complex attempting to work out some of his recent stress when Buffy called his cell phone, sobbing. He felt like his heart had flung out his chest at the sound of her desperate tears. Barely able to understand her, he figured out, as he ran out of the gym to his car, that she was at home, Lindsey was with her and something about her stomach. Whatever it was, he felt panicked as he raced the few miles it took to get home.
He used his key to get in and took the steps two at a time to the bedroom to find Lindsey talking to a closed bathroom door. Lindsey jerked up and looked at Angel before backing slowly away from the door. Angel hurried to the door and knocked on it, knowing he would have plenty time to kill that home-wrecker later.
"Buffy?" he called. "It's Angel. Let me in, baby."
He didn't say anything else, but stood waiting in silence for a minute, maybe more, until a little click sounded and the door was opened a crack. Shooting a prideful glare at Lindsey, Angel slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He found Buffy curled in the tub in nothing but a bra and a pair of panties, and a dress draped over her middle.
Immediately, Angel fell to his knees and tugged at the material across her stomach. "Buffy, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"
She gripped the material with white knuckles, holding it against her scarred belly. New bouts of sobs over took her as she closed in on herself.
"Baby, it's just me," he whispered soothingly, trying to inch the material away. "Let me see what's wrong."
When he was finally able to pull the dress away, he looked at her stomach in confusion. There was nothing wrong with it. It looked perfectly normal to him. He moved closer, trying to inspect some hidden hurt but could find nothing.
"I don't understand," he whispered, climbing into the tub and easing himself behind her. She nestled against his chest and let him hold her. "What were you hiding, sweetheart?"
"M-my stomach," she finally blurted. "He saw," she sobbed, her whole body racked with the force of her tears, "and he just s-stared. Repulsed by…my sc-scars."
Angel was torn. On one hand, Lindsey's aversion to Buffy's scars was no doubt what had kept the insolent whelp from fucking his mate. But on the other hand, Lindsey's rejection had wounded Buffy deeply, made her doubt her self-worth. Angel sighed, cuddling her closer. "I love you, Buffy," he whispered.
Her sobs stopped and they were silent for a very long time. Eventually Buffy groaned, hating herself. "I'm a mess," she whispered desolately.
"You're just confused, baby," Angel told her, pressing a soft kiss to the space beneath her ear.
She sobbed again, her entire body shaking with the effort. "I'm just so unhappy," she cried. "And I don't know why. I'm upset with you, but we're still sleeping together. And I love you, but I still go out with Lindsey. Then I want Lindsey to touch me, but I freak out when he's not you. My daughters hate me. Samantha thinks I regret having her. Joey's going to end up on welfare - "
"Shhh," Angel hushed her gently, turning her around in the confined space so she could bury her face against his chest. His hands smoothed up and down her back until her sobs finally subsided. When she was reasonably calm, he sat on the edge of the tub and lifted her into his lap. With one hand, he leaned over and started the water in the bathtub, pouring some of her favorite bubble bath into the water. Methodically, he undressed her and ever so gently, set her in the warm, bubble filled water. Standing, he shed his own clothes and quickly joined her in the tub.
Buffy lay back against his chest with a weary sigh. She let Angel gently wash her body as he murmured soothing words into her ear, telling her how much he loved her, how absolutely beautiful he found her, how she was his life. With Buffy now exhausted and wrapped in her hooded chenille robe, Angel cracked open the door. The bedroom was empty. A very cursory glance out the window showed that Lindsey's Mercedes was long gone. Returning to the bathroom, he scooped Buffy up in his arms and carried her to their bed.
"What the fuck are we doing?" Joey demanded, glaring at her sister.
Samantha merely smiled knowingly. As Lindsey stomped out the front door and jumped in his car, Samantha started the engine. Her parents were going to have to worry about each other. Right now, she was going to take care of Lindsey. Samantha had merely been intending to follow him home and find out where he lived, but Lindsey wasn't going home. He was going to a bar.
Angel's daughters sat outside Willy's for two hours before finally venturing inside in search of their prey. Samantha grinned wickedly when she saw him bent over the bar drowning in beer. If he was three sheets to the wind, this would be really easy, just like Spike said.
"Okay," Samantha said quietly. "You go order a beer."
"Me?" Joey gasped. "You're the older one."
"Yes, but you look twenty-five and I look twelve," Samantha explained. "Now go."
Shrugging, Joey sauntered across the bar and sidled next to Lindsey. Although he was aware that Buffy had two daughters, Lindsey had only seen the pictures in the house. Hopefully, he would be too drunk to recognize her right away. True to form, Joey immediately started flirting with both the bartender and Lindsey. Samantha grinned. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Samantha strolled across the bar, pausing to wink at a drunk guy who shouted at her. She had no trouble controlling the male species. While Joey attracted them like flies and then let them have their way, Samantha attracted men and dangled them on their little hooks until she had a use for them.
She slipped the roofies into his beer and hoped it would both dissolve and not turn his drink blue. She would definitely have to ask Spike why he would know so much about the date rape drug. His dark beer didn't appear to have a blue tint, but it was dissolving a bit too slowly. At this rate he would have chunks in his brew. Samantha took a deep breath and then caressed his shoulders. Joey did her best feminine huff of disapproval as her sister took over the show.
"Buffy," Lindsey slurred, "I'm so sorry."
"Drink your beer and let's get out of here," Samantha whispered. She stayed partially to his side, hoping the drunkenness and the partial view would fool him long enough.
"I didn't mean ta hurt your feelin's," he said.
"Of course not," she crooned. "Come on, finish your drink, sailor."
"You sure this is the right place?" Joey demanded. She was breathing hard, laboring from the effort of trying to support Lindsey's largely unconscious weight.
"It's what's on his driver's license," Samantha said, taking Lindsey's keys and opening the apartment door.
"You know, this is just too choice," Joey grumbled. "I'm supposed to be the bad kid, but you're the one drugging people and breaking into houses."
Haughtily, Samantha looked over her shoulder. "I do what needs to be done," she said shortly.
Together, they managed to drag Lindsey through his apartment to the bedroom. Samantha had to admit that he had great taste. The apartment was decorated with an artist's eye. Oh well, too bad. They managed to dump Lindsey on the bed. "Take off his shirt," Samantha ordered, reaching for the hem of her own blouse.
Joey stared at her dumbfounded. "Wanna run that past me again?" she asked.
"His shirt," Samantha said, pulling her blouse over her head and carefully folding it. "Take it off."
Joey was too shocked to protest. Gracelessly, she pulled Lindsey's shirt over his head. Samantha shrugged out of her bra and crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, now, there's a camera in my purse," she said, crawling onto the bed with Lindsey and wrapping the covers around both of them.
"This is bullshit," Joey muttered. "Why am I the one that's always grounded when you're clearly the juvenile delinquent?"
Samantha merely smiled at her sister with a superior smirk. "The art is not getting caught," she countered.
Still muttering under her breath, Joey began snapping pictures.
Slipping beneath the covers with Buffy, Angel carefully removed her robe and tossed it aside. He cradled her against him and held on to her, stroking her stomach lightly with his fingertips. He traced the scars one by one. He had long memorized them. He knew each stitch that had been placed in her flesh, just as he remembered each moment he sat by her bed praying he wouldn't lose her.
Buffy fell asleep, lulled by his familiar touch and Angel held her for a long time, much longer than he had intended. He didn't know what to think or where his life was going from here. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay there in bed with her for as long as he could, but he knew it wasn't possible. She had said that she still loved him, that she was confused and although it wasn't everything he dreamed she would say, it was enough. He could hold on to that little tidbit and be okay.
With a deep sigh, he carefully extracted himself from her body and prepared to go back to his apartment. She had made it abundantly clear that he was no longer welcome in his own home. As he tiptoed to the bathroom, Buffy roused from sleep and looked anxiously around the dark room.
"Angel?"
"I'm here," he whispered back softly. "I was just going to get my clothes. Don't worry, I'm going to go home before the girls know I spent the night."
"Don't leave," she whispered. She rose from the bed and almost trudged toward him. She took his hand and pulled lightly to lead him back to bed.
"Alright. I'll stay the night."
"No," she said, shaking her head. He watched her hair sweep over her shoulders in the dark and reached out to touch a strand.
"No?" he asked in confusion.
"Will you…will you please just come back home?" she said hoarsely. He couldn't clearly see the tears in her eyes, but he heard them in her voice.
"And if you change your mind tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep his tone calm. "I'm not going to jump in and out of your life, Buffy."
"I'm sorry, Angel," she choked. "I love you so much. We still have things to work out but I want you to stay. I…I need you to stay."
He pulled her closer, hugging her against his body. "Okay, baby," he whispered. "If that's what you want."