Angel poured himself a cup of coffee and nodded mutely. "She asked me to," he said.

Rising from her chair, Samantha walked over to where Angel stood. "You don't trust her?" she asked, with her usual observant edge.

Taking a deep breath, Angel looked at his daughter. "I trust your mother implicitly," he said. "But … I don't know. I don't know what's wrong, but I do know that this isn't over yet."

"I've been reading up on depression," Samantha offered quietly. "Do you think Mom would talk to someone?"

"I don't know," Angel replied, his voice tinged with desolation. "Your mother has always been so strong, so self-reliant. She doesn't like admitting she needs help." He took a deep breath. "I can't make her get help."

---

Angel knew the girls had been informing him about Buffy's less than stellar physical condition to push his buttons. But he also knew they had been telling the truth. He had spent countless nights worrying about her, wondering if she was sleeping, if she was getting enough to eat. But living with her once again, he had to admit that seeing it first hand was even more devastating.

Buffy was no longer distant. Quite the opposite, she seemed to need the constant reassurance of his touch, which he was more than willing to provide. But she wasn't talking. When he came home for lunch on Tuesday and found Buffy sitting on the living room floor rather than in her Constitutional Law class, Angel had asked if she was going to school. Her only reply had been to burst into tears. Angel hadn't broached the subject again, but by Friday, he realized her bookbag hadn't been moved all week.

The weekend was quiet and a bit strange. The girls seemed to haunt the house, watching over their parents like they thought they would just fall apart at any second. Buffy didn't leave the house at all and Angel began to wonder if she had left since Tuesday. On Sunday, he made a quiet call to Faith to ask her to return to the shop for a week, maybe more. After demanding back pay for the time she wasn't working, she returned to her job and promised not to call him at all for any reason.

After his early morning phone call, he padded to the living room where Buffy was sitting on the couch. She was usually so full of energy, always doing something or performing some activity. It was definitely odd to see her just sitting there, staring out the window.

He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. It wasn't surprising at all when she climbed on his lap and nestled her face against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand over her hair.

"I love you," he said, after long moments of silence.

"I love you too," she answered. Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

"I was thinking it might help you to talk to someone about how you're feeling," he said softly. "Maybe someone who is objective."

"You think I'm crazy?" Her head jerked up.

Angel took a deep breath. "So much is changing in your life right now, Buffy," he replied calmly. "The girls are almost grown, you're going back to school." He paused for a moment. "I know that those two things have cast your life in a very different light. I know you look at Samantha and realize just how young we were. I know that you go to school and realize how much you missed out on by staying home with me and the girls."

"I'm a bad person," she whispered.

"No, baby, you're not," he assured her, holding her tighter. He closed his eyes, just basking in the sensation of being near her again. "I should have listened," he admitted, "but I was too caught up in what I was doing. I was so intent on building up the company, on leaving something for the girls, that I missed the whole point. I should have been there for you and them, physically and emotionally."

Buffy curled into him, her fingers idly toying with the material of his shirt. "You've always been there for the girls," she said, sniffling.

"Not the way I needed to be," he said seriously. "You're right, I let you be the bad guy because I didn't want them upset with me. I was so afraid of ending up like my father that I did the exact opposite. That wasn't fair to you or them."

"I don't want to see a psychiatrist," she said. Her voice was quiet but there was an edge to it that made him think twice about pressing the point.

"Will you think about it?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. Beginning to get upset, she shifted to move off his lap, but he held on more tightly. Her whole body tensed but she didn't struggle against him.

"Okay," he said. "It's okay. It was just a suggestion…and I have one more."

"I can't take this right now, Angel, please," Buffy pleaded, looking up at him with those luminous hazel eyes widened in something akin to terror.

"Shhh," he whispered, kissing her gently. "I was just going to suggest that you cancel your classes this semester and finish them next semester. I think you need a little bit of a break. What do you think?"

"Won't I be a failure?" she asked. The tears that had started to fill in her eyes were dangerously close to falling and he felt his heart clench at the sight. No matter how many times he saw her cry, he would never get used to it.

"No, baby," he answered. "You're just someone who knows when she needs some time off."

Relaxing a bit, she leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes. "Okay," she muffled against his shirt.

---

It took Buffy a week of prodding to finally drop her classes. Angel ended up having to bundle her into the car and drive her to campus to get her to do it. It seemed like all she wanted to do was sleep. Angel was still far too worried about her to even think about going back to work, so they both haunted the house day in and day out. He was as supportive as he could be, but it was difficult to watch her be so miserable, yet to unwilling to take any steps to make it better.

By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, the girls were avoiding both of them due to their bad tempers. Angel didn't even bother fighting when Samantha informed him that she and Joey were going to be staying at the apartment most of the break. Strangely enough, Buffy said nothing about their absence or what horrible acts of debauchery they could possibly be doing while they were on their own. In fact, Buffy was beginning to say less and less about anything at all.

The night before Thanksgiving, or rather, the morning of, Angel was awakened from a sound sleep with his wife sobbing at his side. He blinked open his bleary eyes and pulled her closer, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his mind. The clock read 3:00 AM in bold, blue lettering and he fought the urge to growl in irritation.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked hoarsely.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring," she wept. Instinctively, he felt for the ring and realized that it was indeed missing. He groaned. He knew exactly where it was, not that the fact was going to help him now.

"It's on the dresser in the apartment," he explained. He brushed her hair back from her damp face and kissed her forehead. "I'll get it first thing in the morning, sweetheart, okay?"

"You took off your ring," she announced again, sobbing in earnest. "Why would you take it off unless you didn't love me anymore?"

"I love you, Buffy. I just took it off because-" Angel stopped in mid-sentence and stared up at the dark ceiling. There was no way he was getting out of this in one piece.

"Because you went on a date," Buffy wailed. "I didn't take off my ring. I never took it off cause, I still love you, but you did."

Angel rolled out of bed and fumbled for his clothes in the dark.

"Where are you going?" Buffy sobbed, her wail tinged with hysteria.

"To get the goddamn ring!" Angel snapped.

Buffy's only answer was more sobbing. Angel sighed. He flipped on the bedside lamp and dug around under the bed for Buffy's slippers. Finding them, he slipped them on her feet. She had been sleeping in a pair of yoga pants and one of his old t-shirts, so he simply grabbed a sweatshirt out of the closet and pulled it over her head. Buffy's sobs had almost subsided by the time she had the sweatshirt on and Angel grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.

She didn't say a word as he tucked her into the car and drove across town. He judged from the fact that her sniffles were stopping that she approved of his decision to go get the ring with her in tow. Angel was almost beyond caring. He just wanted a full night's sleep. He just wanted his wife to get through the day without having a complete breakdown. He wanted to be able to stop tiptoeing around her every second of the day and night.

He pulled into the parking space in front of his former apartment and shifted the car into park. He leaned over, kissing Buffy on the forehead. "I'll be right back," he said.

The key was still on his key ring, so Angel just opened the door and walked inside. After all, it had been his apartment up until a few weeks ago and even if he wasn't living there, he still had every right to barge in on his girls' privacy. Especially since they would be fast asleep. It was three in the morning, after all.

Angel came to a dead stop just inside the threshold. The scene in front of him just wasn't registering. For a minute, he thought he was in the wrong apartment. But no … that was Spike. Angel was really sure that was Spike. Even if all Angel could see was the back of his peroxide fried head. As Spike moved his head to the side, giving a glimpse of his partner's profile, another thought hit Angel. Spike was fucking Buffy up against the fireplace in the apartment that *he* was paying for.

Logic definitely didn't play into it. Otherwise Angel would have remembered that his nervous wreck of a wife was still sniffling in the car just outside. In fact, it wasn't until she spoke that it finally hit Angel that Spike's partner wasn't Buffy.

"Yes, Spike," she moaned, her perfectly manicured fingernails biting into the corded muscle of Spike's shoulder.

"Samantha?"

Angel took a tentative step inside and then another. His confusion was quickly turning to rage as he stared at Spike backing away from his innocent little princess and grabbing his pants. "I'll kill you," Angel snarled in pure fury.

"I know what this looks like, but…" Spike blurted, struggling to pull on his pants and back up at the same time. "Look, mate, I'm in love with your daughter."

"You pedophile piece of shit!" Angel roared. His wedding ring was completely forgotten as he charged across the room. As he chase Spike around the furniture and out the front door, the sound of Samantha's scream of horror barely registered in either of their minds.

---

Buffy was certain she was losing her mind. It was the only possible explanation for being in the car outside the apartment Angel should never have had to get at 3:00 AM. She was seriously considered the option that she had gone completely batty when Spike came running out of the building bare-chested and barefoot. She got out of the car when she saw Angel running in a full sprint behind him, but she stopped her in her tracks when Samantha came running out in a white silk robe.

"Mom!" Samantha screamed, while sobbing wholeheartedly. "Daddy's going to kill him! You have to stop him. He's really going to kill Spike."

Buffy's eyes widened as she realized the full weight of what had happened. Gasping in a breath, she turned to where Angel had pulled Spike into the grass and was raining blows into his friend's face. Flashes of the possible dire circumstances flashed before her eyes and as Samantha ran toward them, Buffy fell into step behind her daughter.

"Angel!" Buffy screamed as Samantha shouted, "No, Daddy!"

---

Buffy was fairly sure her head was going to explode any second. The pounding behind her temples couldn't continue much longer without something giving. Tara touched her gently on the arm and leaned over, "There he is."

Buffy looked at the window of the heavy security door that separated the holding area from the waiting room at the Sunnydale Correctional Facility. There was a loud buzzing and then a clang as the door finally swung outward. Angel, still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans, though now stained with grass, dirt and blood, slowly walked toward his wife. Buffy stood up and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he hugged her. Angel glanced at Tara and mouthed, "Thank you." She smiled and quickly left the couple alone.

"Where's everyone else?" Angel asked pointedly.

Buffy pulled back out of his embrace and looked at him warily. "Joey went to the airport to pick up Dad and Jenny."

"Shit," Angel swore, having forgotten his in-laws had returned from their extended vacation for Thanksgiving.

Buffy took a deep breath. "And as far as I know Samantha is at the hospital with Spike."

"That daughter ruining piece of shit," Angel grumbled pulling Buffy close again.

"As soon as we can get you out of here, I want to go see if Spike is okay," Buffy said quietly, nervously holding the bottom of his shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he met her gaze and saw the fear in them he snapped his mouth shut again and nodded.

"Fine," he ground out.

---

Sunnydale Memorial Hospital was jammed packed full of people. He guessed the rumors about the holiday crazies were true because they were all out in force. He managed to persuade Buffy to go home and let him shower first before they headed over. Joey still wasn't back from the airport. Angel had held his tongue, but he knew Buffy had to be really out of it if she let her fifteen year old daughter drive her car. Of course, the odds of Joey being pulled over because she looked too young were definitely not good. On the other hand, the odds of Joey being pulled over because she was doing ninety in a school zone were really great. Angel pushed the worries away. Right now, Joey was on her own. He had to trust that she could at least make it to the airport without killing herself, someone else, or getting arrested. He was fairly sure Giles would insist on driving home.

The showers made Buffy and Angel look slightly more presentable, but they did nothing to improve either of their moods. Buffy was still fragile to the point of shattering and Angel was so pissed he couldn't give her the attention she needed.

It took them ten minutes at the information desk before they found out Spike's room number. Buffy nervously kept an iron grip on Angel's arm as they walked down the hall, afraid of what they might find, unsure of how to deal with Samantha and wary that Angel would say something to his friend that he might regret later.

Angel and Buffy paused the door, shocked by the sight before them. Spike was lying in the hospital bed looking beaten and bruised. His right eye was so swollen he couldn't open it and his face was a mural of black and blue. Samantha was perched on the edge of the bed, her makeup free face red and blotchy, her clothes wrinkled from being up all night and her hair pulled back in a pony tail.

Buffy stopped in her tracks. She was utterly stunned. She hadn't seen her daughter so unkempt since before she was in junior high. Samantha was always composed, always perfect. Her shaky hands traced Spike's face softly and then she erupted into sobs.

"Shhh, luv," Spike said through split lips. "I'm alright, pet. Just a little busted up is all."

"I can't believe Daddy did this to you," she gasped through her tears.

"This is all your fucking fault, Spike," Angel spat from the doorway. "My baby's crying her little heart out!"

"Came here to finish the job, eh, mate?" Spike asked, squeezing Samantha's hand in his before urging her away from the bed.

"You're goddamn right," Angel snarled, crossing the room in long, broad steps. He stopped to scoop the pillow off the empty neighboring bed and looked like a crazy man as he approached his long time friend.

Buffy realized that Angel meant to smother Spike. She leapt at her husband, linking her arm through his, throwing all of her meager weight, trying to stop him. Angel plowed ahead like she wasn't even there.

"Stop!" Buffy screamed.

Her outburst seemed to bring Angel back to himself and he stopped, looking at her. She was staring at him, eyes wide, her entire body trembling. He reached out for her. "Buffy?"

She twisted away from him, her arms wrapped around herself. She backed up until she hit the wall and then she slid down it, huddling in a tiny ball on the floor, whimpering.

Angel and Samantha both stared at her in growing horror. "Buffy?" "Mom?" They asked in unison.

---

"She's resting," the doctor informed Angel. "We had to give her a powerful sedative. It should help her sleep through the night."

"You're going to keep her here ... overnight?" Angel asked in disbelief.

"Mr. Roarke," Dr. Maganti said seriously, "I'm not sure you understand the gravity of this situation."

Angel shrugged. "Buffy's been pretty down lately," he admitted.

The doctor looked unimpressed. "Sir, there is a very significant difference between ‘a little down' and clinical depression. Your wife needs medical assistance."

Angel ran a hand roughly over his face. This was the perfect end to a perfect day. Joey had gotten stopped for speeding, but somehow managed to talk her way out of the ticket. Angel didn't want to know how. He assumed it considered flashing some skin. Spike had been released from the hospital and Samantha had taken him back to the apartment that Angel was paying for, thereby subsidizing his daughter's love nest with her child-molesting boyfriend. And now Buffy had fallen completely and utterly apart.

---

Angel stayed the night in the hospital with Buffy scowling by her side. He didn't understand why everything had to fall apart at once, why every single thing was just crumbling in his hands. In the morning, Buffy had a session with Dr. Maganti while Angel paced in the hallway irritably. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, without Spike taking advantage of his baby and his wife loosing it every second and Joey being the troublemaker. The world was not as it should be.

After two hours, Angel was called into the office where Buffy was curled up on the end of a comfy looking couch, but she looked…almost afraid. He glared at the doctor with extra menace than he had originally intended because obviously the fucker was making Buffy more uncomfortable. Angel slid into the seat next to Buffy, took her hand in his and kissed her temple firmly before glaring back at the doctor.

"Mr. Roarke, Buffy is going to be going through some intense psychotherapy, and despite my suggestions to the contrary, she has decided on an outpatient program. She will be spending her days here in our facility but she will come home in the evenings."

"All day?" Angel echoed.

"Yes," Dr. Maganti answered calmly. "It was also my suggestion and your wife agrees, that you would benefit with meeting with Buffy and I in one of our sessions twice a week."

"Me?" Angel sputtered. "I don't need therapy."

"I think your presence will help Buffy's progress and I'd like to explore some anger management techniques-"

"I don't need any fucking anger management!" he growled. "You help Buffy. That's why we're here."

"No, that's one of the reasons we're here," Dr. Maganti replied. "We're also here because you put your friend and apparently your eldest daughter's lover in the hospital."

"I don't want to open up. I don't want to learn and share and grow. I'll be supportive of my wife but that's where it ends."

"Angel," Buffy said quietly. "I want you to come to the sessions."

"I don't have anger issues, Buffy. I'm fine. Do I fucking look angry to you?"

"Either you come to the sessions or I will accept the inpatient program and you won't see me for a month," she added, ignoring his outburst. She didn't flinch when he yelled or when he jumped to his feet to pace around the office.

"This is blackmail!" Angel snarled.

"You have a choice," Buffy said softly, pleading with her eyes, "but I really want to be at home with you."

---

"How did you feel when Wesley informed you that Buffy had been at a party with," Dr. Maganti checked his notes, "Lindsey?"

Angel lifted his head from where he had been cradling it in his hands and glared at the doctor. "How did I feel?" he repeated incredulously. "How did I feel when my wife of eighteen years, the mother of my children, went out with some college boy, got drunk and made out in front of on one of my friends? How exactly do you think I felt?"

Dr. Maganti seemed completely unphased by Angel's show of temper. "Yet these events were not discussed as part of your reconciliation with your wife."

Angel ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at Buffy. "No," Angel admitted, "they weren't."

---

Buffy and Angel came home that night to the television blaring while Joey and some boy ate the greasiest pizza ever made. Angel noted that for once Joey's friend seemed to be the same age as her. Of course, he noted wryly to himself, for all he knew, Joey could be dating Wesley. The thought further ruined Angel's already foul mood.

"Honey," Buffy chided gently, stepping into the living room, "is that … nachos on the pizza?"

Angel walked upstairs before Joey could regale her mother with how she managed to bring pizza to new culinary lows. Angel was sick of talking. He was sick of thinking. It was all he could do not to leave the house and head straight to his father's bar and drink himself into oblivion. At least that way, he wouldn't have to think anymore, he wouldn't have to have every second stretch over his skin, slicing away at what he'd been building for eighteen years.

What had he done that was so wrong? Why didn't he have a right to be angry for what his wife had done? He was sickened by the thought of Buffy allowing that boy to touch her, infuriated that she had kicked him out and confused by why he was never good enough. After all these years, he had tried so hard to be the perfect father, the perfect husband. He got up every morning and went to work, making his business larger and more successful so his girls would never want for anything. He pulled himself out of the shit heap his father raised him in and made a life for them. He was fuming and he couldn't even make his thoughts line up. He just couldn't see why nothing was ever good enough.

He looked up and saw Buffy standing in the doorway, looking a little awkward and sad…and incredibly beautiful. It hit him just like the first time just then, looking over her lithe body in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Some days he wasn't struck by her beauty. Some days she was just Buffy, his wife, his mate, the mother of his children, but tonight, with all that rage inside him, he knew how lucky he was again.

"I just wanted to tell you something," she said, clearing her throat.

"What?" Despite his efforts, he snarled the word.

"I love you, Angel," she said. She fought to keep the tears from filling her eyes as she spoke. "No matter what has happened, no matter what I've done or you've done, I love you. You and the girls are the most important thing in the world to me." She watched him for a second, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his hands clenched in tight fists. He stared at her but said nothing.

"Okay," she added, "that's all I wanted to say."

She turned around and headed down the hallway, defeated. Never since she had known him, had he ever not responded when she said she loved him. The rejection was a little more than she could take and she knew it was going to be a long road to recovery if they could save their marriage.

She had almost reached the steps when he gripped her arm and whirled her around. He pulled her down the hall and slammed the door behind them before grabbing both of her upper arms and yanking her against his chest.

"I do love you, Buffy," he said through gritted teeth. "I wish I didn't love you so fucking much and maybe this wouldn't be so hard."

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me then," she rasped, letting the tears spill from her eyes.

"You betrayed me," he said, holding her more tightly. "You let him touch you. You were going to give your body to him. You threw me out and moved on to someone younger and smarter and richer."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I was confused."

"And if he hadn't seen your scars, baby, what then? If he had tossed you on *our* bed, who would be with you right now?"

"I love you, Angel," she repeated, collapsing into sobs. She leaned her head against his chest and ignored his bruising grip on her arms. "I love you," she repeated again.

He growled in frustration, but forced himself to gentle, hugging her against his body. Eventually, her sobs subsided and she pulled away. Reluctantly, Angel let her go, sitting down heavily on their bed.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Neither one of us had mothers," she said quietly.

"No," Angel agreed.

Buffy nodded, sniffling as she continued. "And I think that both of us put some very unrealistic expectations on me, on what it means to be a mother to our children."

"You're a great mother, Buffy," Angel said wearily.

"Yes, but I'm a great mother at the price of losing me." Admitting that out loud to Angel and herself was more shocking than Buffy had thought possible, and tears streamed down her cheeks again. She shook her head, forcing herself to continue. "I spent so much time and effort trying to be everything to our girls, trying to make up for the childhood that I didn't have and you didn't have that I lost sight of what it means to be Buffy. And now our kids are almost grown and I don't know who I am."

"Buffy," Angel said softly.

"You did the same thing," she continued. "You were so hell bent on not being your father, on providing a perfect stable home and family that you worked too much, you were gone too much and you spoiled the girls rotten."

Angel snorted. "I did a great job on that last one," he said. "My oldest daughter is sleeping with someone old enough to be her father."

"That's my point, Angel," Buffy said seriously. "We did all these things … and life still turns out however it turns out. Nothing you did made Samantha turn to Spike. She fell in love with him."

"She's a child," Angel snapped. "She doesn't know what she wants."

"Like we didn't know what we wanted?" Buffy asked.

Angel was silent. "That was different," he said gruffly.

"I was eighteen and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," she said seriously. "I knew I wanted to have your children."

Angel looked at his wife and smiled harshly. "And now you don't know what you want?" he asked quietly.

Buffy smiled at him, her bottom lip quivering. "I'm very confused right now," she said. "But I always know how much I love you."

---

Samantha rubbed her shoulder, glaring at her sister. "Hit me again and you lose the hand," she promised darkly.

Joey snorted and rolled her eyes. She leaned in closer, so Giles and Jenny wouldn't overhear. "Isn't that Lindsey's car?" she asked as they made their way up the front walk to the outpatient facility behind their grandparents. They were there for a group counseling session.

Samantha looked at the car. "It is," she confirmed.

Once inside, Giles and Jenny started heading down the appropriate hallways. The girls hung back. "We'll be there in a minute, Grandpa," Samantha said with an innocent smile.

"Okay," Giles replied, nodding. His expression was sober and he was deeply concerned about his daughter.

Joey and Samantha scurried around the corner to the front desk and found Lindsey loudly arguing with the receptionist. "I just want to see her," he growled.

"I'm sorry, sir, you're not on our list of approved visitors. You cannot see Mrs. Roarke."

He opened his mouth to argue again when Samantha purred, "Lindsey."

He turned around and automatically smiled. However, as they came closer, his brow furrowed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I thought you were Buffy."

She extended her hand, smiling. "Samantha Roarke," she said. "Buffy's daughter. This is my sister, Josephine."

"Ah," Lindsey said, but his brow was still furrowed. While he logically understood that Buffy had an eighteen year old daughter, it was clear he really hadn't worked that one through. Her daughters were beautiful, and all grown up. It was sobering to realize Buffy had children so old. "Well, uh," he said awkwardly, "what can I do for you?"

"Leave," Samantha said cheerily.

It took a moment for Samantha's words to sink in, but Lindsey bristled. "Excuse me?"

"You hurt my mother," Samantha informed him, "and you're trying to destroy our family."

"Buffy's an adult," Lindsey countered shortly. "She's responsible for her own decisions."

"You're trying to take advantage of her while she's in a bad situation," Samantha replied, her cheerful mask fading away.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he said. "Now if you *ladies* will excuse me."

"I have something you should see," Samantha told him, keeping her emotions under perfect control.

Lindsey stopped his retreat and came back. Without hurrying, Samantha extracted a small envelope from her purse and handed it to him. Lindsey took the envelope and leafed through it. His posture went perfectly rigid, but he put on his best poker face. "I guess you've been busy," he said.

Samantha smiled. "I show those pictures to my mother and she won't want anything to do with you," she told him flatly. "Walk away now and nobody ever has to know."

"You know it wouldn't do anything but hurt your mother if you showed her these pictures," Lindsey replied defiantly. "I don't think you would want to cause her unnecessary pain."

"More pain than you would bring her?" Samantha offered. "More pain than being divorced from my dad would cause her? I don't think so. I'm not bluffing, Lindsey. Walk away. And while the pictures of you and me might upset my mother, the ones of you and Joey could get you a very long time in prison."

Lindsey snorted, looking at the pictures of him curled up in bed next to the obviously nude brunette. "I don't think there's anything illegal about two people enjoying themselves," Lindsey told her flatly. "But nice try."

"She's fifteen. Think again."

Lindsey's head flipped around to Joey who just smiled brightly. He swallowed thickly, paling slightly.

"You could never practice law," Samantha said darkly.

Lindsey eyed her up and down. "Remind me never to piss you off again," he said, tipping an imaginary hat at her.

"Goodbye, Lindsey."

Turning, Lindsey headed for the exit. Unfortunately, at that moment a very, very irritable Angel rounded the corner, looking for his daughters. They collided, causing Lindsey to drop the envelope as the pictures scattered on the ground.

"Oh, sorry," Angel said reflexively, dropping to his knees to pick up the pictures. As he picked them up, he glanced at them. Angel went perfectly still. His expression murderous, he looked up, his gaze landing on Lindsey.

"Oh fuck," Joey whispered, as she watched her father slowly rise to his full height and crumple the pictures in his hands, before dropping them slowly to the floor. Lindsey immediately began backing up but not nearly quickly enough. Angel sprang, slamming his fist into Lindsey's face once, hard enough to send him hurling toward the floor.

"You," he snarled. "First my wife now my little girls, you miserable fuck?"

Angel dropped to his knees and crunched his fist down again. Samantha skittered forward, sliding in her heels on the slick tiled floors and nearly losing her balance. Visions of her father returning to jail terrified her enough to launch herself against him and tug him back.

"Daddy, Daddy," she shouted. "Daddy, listen to me!"

Angel turned away from the unconscious law student to face his elder daughter. "What?"

"We set him up," she mumbled.

"What?" he echoed, now in confusion, rather than anger.

"He never touched us, Daddy. We drugged him, posed him and took pictures," Samantha announced. "It was insurance for our family."

"You took off your clothes and got into bed with this home-wrecker?" Angel asked through gritted teeth, looking back and forth between his daughters. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped away from Lindsey's unconscious body.

"Well, he was knocked the fuck out, Daddy," Joey explained. "It's not like he was enjoying the view or anything."

"I wanted to make sure he stayed away from us, from Mom, to be specific," Samantha said, looking directly in her father's eyes. "Obviously nothing was going to keep him from pursuing her, so I made sure he had no choice but to back off."

"Sweetheart," Angel said, "occasionally, you are a very scary little girl."

Samantha raised her chin defiantly. "Nobody fucks with me and mine," she said, casting a quick grin to Joey for stealing one of more common phrases. Angel's eyes widened and then he laughed out loud and pulled his daughters into his arms. They might be manipulative and intrusive and disobedient, but they were his angels and he never felt luckier to have them.

"Come on, Daddy," Samantha said, pulling on his hand. They all glanced back at Lindsey. They needed to be gone before anybody found him.

*
Six Months Later
*

"Okay, I think that wraps things up," Samantha Roarke said, standing at the head of a giant, glossy conference room table. She looked over the members of the board of directors for Roarke Enterprises and gave them her best cool, professional smile. Taking her cue, they began filing out of the room. Keeping her head lifted high, she strolled across the room to the other end of the table where the company's CEO sat.

"What do you think, Daddy?" she whispered, perching on the table near his chair.

"You were brilliant, Samantha! Simply brilliant," Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, CIO, blustered. "They were all taken with you!"

Samantha smiled at him and fought the urge to roll her eyes before giving her father an amused look, which he echoed in his dark eyes. "Thank you, Wesley."

"I agree completely, sweetheart," Angel said, grinning. He rose to his feet and kissed her cheek. "You're the perfect person to run the company. They'll all be at your feet in no time."

"We should celebrate Samantha officially taking over the reins of Roarke Enterprises," Wesley announced, glancing at his watch. "I'd say the day is about finished. Shall we go have a drink?"

"I'll have to take a rain check, Wes," Angel said, slapping him on the shoulder. "I have a date tonight."

"Oh god," Samantha groaned. "Daddy, don't you think you're taking this dating thing a bit too far? You're supposed to be an adult."

"I am an adult," he beamed. "I'm an adult who is taking a beautiful woman out for a night on the town and possibly, if I'm lucky, some debauchery will follow."

"Please," Samantha said, turning a little green. "Don't overshare."

Angel laughed and buttoned his jacket. He headed for the door, whistling a jaunty tune, looking forward to the night's events. Just before he reached the door, Spike stepped in.

"Ready, pet?" he asked, focusing on Samantha. He took him a second to notice Angel's presence and began backpedaling but was too late to dodge the fist that collided with his face. Spike, much to his credit, ducked back out of the room before he could hit him again.

"Dammit Daddy!" Samantha growled. "He's my husband now. You can't just hit him every time you see him!"

"I don't," Angel said, looking mildly offended. "I didn't hit him at the wedding, remember? Just like I promised. I think I should get some credit for that."

"You hit him at the reception," Samantha said dryly.

"Once," Angel returned. "And I promised the wedding. Nothing was said about the reception."

"I think it should go without saying that my husband shouldn't be decked on our wedding day."

"See you later this week for dinner, sweetheart," he answered, as if the conversation hadn't happened. Resuming his whistling, he let himself out of the conference room.

---

"Right there! Right there! Harder!"

Angel's fingers bit deeply into her hips as he slammed her down against him. As her climax washed over her, he growled, pressing his face against her shoulder as he let himself go.

Buffy giggled, collapsing against him. "We should have sex in the car more often," she said languidly.

He smiled wryly in the darkness. "I think Joey's getting sick of finding your underwear," he noted.

"Too bad," Buffy countered unrepentantly.

Turning his head, Angel found her mouth and kissed her long and deep. "I love you," he whispered. She replied with a goofy grin.

Several minutes later, Buffy was once again sitting in her seat rather than straddling Angel. She righted her clothes and smoothed down her hair. "Where now?"

Angel frowned at her. "Well, I had plans," he said. "But unfortunately, our little detour means we missed our dinner reservations. Everywhere else is going to be packed on a Friday night."

"How about your Dad's?" Buffy offered.

Angel shrugged and started the ignition. "Joey's working there tonight, so it'll be a great time to see how she's doing."

"I'm still not completely comfortable with her working there," Buffy said, eyeing her husband in the dark. "It's a bar."

"She's busing tables, baby," Angel answered, turning toward the seedier part of town. "Besides, Pop would kill anyone who even looked at her the wrong way. Don't worry about it. How much trouble can she get into washing glasses and wiping off tables?"

"Knowing our daughter, considerable trouble. Besides, Jake shouldn't let her work there at all. She only just turned sixteen." She turned in the seat and stared at her husband's profile. "He's paying her under the table, you know."

"If it gets out of hand, we'll make her quit," Angel said, gathering her hand in his and smoothing his lips over her knuckles. "Besides, it cuts into her necking time."

"All the freaks and weirdos she dates probably hang out there," she groaned, but flushed as he slipped one of her fingers into his mouth. The afterglow she was basking in was heating up quickly and as she unbuckled her seatbelt to slide across the seat, he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. She sighed, reaching for the door handle. Angel pulled her on her hand to get her attention and shook his head.

"Wait for me," he said, leaning over to pull her into a heated kiss. "It's a date. I get to open the door."

"Okay, Romeo," she giggled and watched as he got out and bounded around the car like a lovesick teenager. He opened the door with a flourish and took her hand as she stepped out, letting his eyes rake over the flash of toned thigh. Growling, he shut the door before pressing her against it and raking his fingers through her hair. He kissed her slowly, teasing her with little nips, raking his teeth over her lower lip. Smiling against her lips, he slipped the spaghetti strap of her little black dress down her right shoulder, moving to kiss a trail over the delicate column of her throat.

"Oh, no you don't," she giggled, pushing him away. "You're buying me dinner. We have to have the date part of the date."

He groaned and cupped her breast in his hand, pinching her nipple lightly. "I'll make it worth your while," he whispered, resuming his trail of kisses. Buffy's head fell back and she groaned, rubbing her body against his. A truck pulled into the parking lot and the two men inside catcalled and whistled, jolting them back to reality.

"Inside, now," Buffy said, frowning up at him.

He smiled his killer, crooked smile. "That's exactly what I had in mind," he said, grinding his pelvis against hers.

She couldn't help it, she smiled. "You're incorrigible," she chided.

"And you love it," he countered.

"I do," she admitted with a wry smile, "but I still want to go check up on our daughter."

Angel frowned. The one sure way to get his mind off of sex was to imply that one of his daughters might be in trouble. Reluctantly, he pulled away and held his hand out. Buffy took it and walked with him to the door.

The bar was exactly the way it had been when she stumbled inside two decades earlier. Honestly, Buffy couldn't say that she had ever warmed to the place. It still filled her with apprehension, even now, and she couldn't imagine why Joey would want to work here. As her gaze fell upon a table with a group of young, pierced bikers playing cards and tossing back shots, she amended that thought. Maybe she did know why Joey wanted to work here. She rubbed her temple, trying to ward off the growing headache.

Joey was behind the bar drying mugs as they approached. Jake leaned against the counter, watching her. "Don't you be nippin' off the fuckin' tap back there either," he growled. "I'm not about to get closed down because of you."

Joey curled her lip into a snarl and flipped him the bird. "Fuck off old man," she yelled.

Jake just smiled and turned around to rejoin his card game. Buffy shook her head. She would never understand the bizarre relationship that Joey had with her grandfather. As far as she could tell, it consisted mostly of insult flinging and growls. But it seemed to work for both of them, so she never interceded.

"Oh great," Joey groaned as she spotted her parents enter. "It's June and Ward Fuckbunny. Are you guys checking up on me?"

"Josephine," Buffy chided. "Could you not use that language every time you open your mouth?"

"Look, thanks for looking in on me, but Gramps keeps me from the taps and the bikers, so it's all good. Thanks for stopping in though. Bye, bye," Joey answered, waving in mock cheerfulness.

"Nice try," Angel said, stepping behind the bar and nudging his daughter aside. "What would you like to drink, my love?"

"I'll have a Chardonnay," Buffy answered, beaming back a smile. "And does your Dad still have those little pizza thingies in the kitchen? I love those."

"I'm not sure that goes with white wine, but Joey will go see," Angel said, winking at his wife while he wrapped his arm around his daughter.

"Daddy!" Joey whispered harshly, pulling away. "You're my *parent*. You can't hug me in public!"

"Yes, Angel, what were you thinking?" Buffy asked, with obvious amusement. Jake ambled over the bar to greet them. Buffy was always taken back on what a large man he was. Ever since she first saw him, she had been intimidated by his size. It wasn't until he stood next to Angel that she realized he wasn't all that big anymore. In fact, her husband's arms were larger.

"Joey, go get your mama some pizza rolls. Christ knows she needs a fucking meal," Jake ordered gruffly.

"I was about to do that before Dad made with the PDA," Joey growled, stomping toward the back, mumbling. "Can't even have a job for a goddamn second without them butting in."

"Hello Jake," Buffy said, unable to hide her grin. Something about him just made her smile these days. It wasn't until her daughters were old enough to verbally spar with him that she understood. He was just a gruff old man wrapped around the pinkies of his grandchildren.

"Buffy," Jake nodded. "I see you got my son into shape again. You had him cryin' in his beer like a little pussy. You sure crack that whip, don'tcha?"

Buffy looked over at Angel and took his hand. She couldn't believe she had actually contemplated living her life without him in it. She couldn't fathom how she thought she would live a life without Angel. "Well," she said, glancing back at Jake, "a woman's got to keep her man in check."

"Well, someone needs to control him," Jake said, slapping Angel on back hard enough to shove him forward. Angel shook his head, glad he had already set down Buffy's wine glass before that happened.

"How's Joey working out, Pop? She doing alright?"

"Well, she's a damn sight better than you ever were," Jake gruffed, leaning against the bar. "She knows how to clean a fucking glass."

"Hey, I worked my ass off," Angel countered irritably.

Jake rolled his eyes. "You were such a goddamn martyr," he informed his son shortly. "I know I was a screw up and I accept that, but you – " he poked Angel in the chest. "You were a fucking handful. Couldn't work a single goddamn night without bitching and moaning every second. I couldn't keep a fucking waitress for more than a week because you were always nailin' ‘em in the back room and then breakin' their little hearts. And to top it off, you're one of the shittiest bartenders I've ever seen."

Joey returned from the back room carrying a plate of pizza rolls, which she set before Buffy. Jake hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her back for a gruff hug. "Nothin' like Joey here," he said affectionately. "This girl knows how to tend bar."

Joey grinned brightly at both her parents. Angel let the subject drop. He still firmly believed his father had been a horrible parent, but twenty years of living had given him a little perspective on the fact that maybe he had been a little difficult to get along with, he realized. This was all relative as he noticed his daughter's shirt.

"Joe," he groaned, "I asked you not to wear that shirt."

Joey just smiled in satisfaction and smoothed her hands over the material. It was a tight little babydoll t-shirt at least two sizes too small. The material was black and it had glittery red writing that spelled out "jailbait". Angel had vowed to burn the shirt the last time he saw her in it, but she'd managed to hide it where he couldn't find it.

Buffy grabbed Angel's hand and urged him to join her at one of the barstools. Reluctantly, he did so, leaving his daughter to her job. He took a seat and Joey set a bottle of Bud in front of him. Angel cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't serving," he said.

"You'll need it," she assured him.

"For what?" Angel asked warily.

"For when I tell you my underwear matches the shirt."

Angel took a drink and didn't put the bottle down until it was empty.

 

The End

 

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