Rating: PG
Classification: B/A angst/fluff
Disclaimers: If the Buffy and Angel characters were mine, they would not be in different cities now, broken apart from each other. So you honestly think I own them?
Feedback: Sure, why not?
Spoilers: Um... none?
Author's Notes: Michelle posted a birthday challenge like... way back on the 24th, and okay, so it's a little late, but I liked it, and I'm working on it... so here you go! Enjoy!

I had this teddy bear growing up. It’s a color I call "baby pink"(which others might call "petal pink" or simply "light pink"), with white ears and a white snout and belly. On it’s belly are the words "I LOVE YOU," written in bright, bold letters that are starting to peel off. By pressing the right paw, one can hear the song "Unchained Melody." There’s a smile sewn on its face - very poorly, I might add.The bear as a whole is so incredibly tacky that if I saw it on a shelf in a toy store, I’d probably laugh at it.

But this is my favorite stuffed animal ever. It’s really faded and worn from all the use its gotten through the years. I still sleep with it every night, which I think annoys my husband. Everyone always asks me what I see in "that worthless mass of shredded cotton."

True love.

My parents died when I was thirteen years old, before I really got to find out the whole deal behind them. They weren’t my parents at birth,but I loved them just the same, if not more so. When they died, my older sister, my younger brother, and I were sent to live with our parents’ friends, the Harrises. The only time we ever returned to our old house was to claim some of our parents’ possessions. That’s when I found the bear.

Only then did I remember the story behind it.

I was only eight years old when it happened. My older sister, Katrina,was turning fourteen in a few days, while my brother, Patrick, was onlyfour. We were living in a two-story house in the suburbs of Sunnydale,California. The only thing I remember from that house is the windowseat in my bedroom. My mom and I would curl up on there under a blanket and talk or read or simply relax.

I should have seen it coming. I had all the clues in my hands, and Ifailed to see the truth behind them. Maybe it was for the best.

It was a week, exactly, before Katrina’s fourteenth birthday. I wa ssupposed to be asleep, having been tucked in an hour earlier. However,I had needed to use the bathroom, and seeing as my parents’ door wasajar, the lights still on inside, I had decided to sneak a peek.

My dad was just settling under the covers, having just brushed his teeth. He turned out his light, turning to my mother, a thoughtful lookon his face. "They’re beautiful children, Buffy. Isabelle has your hair, and Patrick has your eyes. I can almost see you reflecting back on them."

My mother froze in her nail-filing, her back to my father. "Funny,because they’re not our children."

"Then whose are they?" Dad asked her, only a bit of a challenge behind his voice. If anything, he seemed concerned. Perhaps slightly defensive.

She turned to face him. "Angel, we adopted these kids! Why do you always have to act like they’re really ours? We’re never going to have kids of our own. Don’t you understand that?"

His voice was quieter, but there was an edge to it. "Buffy, don’t throw this at me now. You knew long before the wedding that I would never beable to give you children."

She sighed, making a face, turning to him. "It’s not just about the children, you know."

He sat up a little straighter. "What do you want from me? You want meto sleep with you? You want the demon to return? Is that you what you want?"

"No," she replied firmly."Buffy, I know how hard it is for you. It’s hard for me, too. Watching you want these things, knowing that you could be with someone who could give them to you. Do you know how tough it is knowing that I held you back from a normal marraige?" he demanded quietly, Dad’s brown eyes focused intently on her.

"Don’t start that ‘normal’ bull-shit with me, Angel!" she shot back in a whisper. I couldn’t see her face, for her back was to the door. But I could hear the anger in her voice. They had had this argument many times before.

However, Dad’s face was turned towards me. Suddenly, his eyes flew to the open bedroom door, and before I could escape back to the safety of my own bed, he summoned me in, asking what I was doing up at such a latehour. It was weird, I remember thinking. Both of my parents were smiling sweetly at me, their angry tones and sharp looks gone. It wasas if the fight had never happened. I suppose I was grateful for that.

But I shouldn’t have ignored it.

That fight seemed to take place every night. Maybe not the exact same one, but certainly similar. I could hear their whispered arguments through their closed door every night as I snuck out of my room. I used to sit against the door, one hand playing with my golden hair, the other hand with my thumb stuck in my mouth. I don’t suppose their fightinge ver bothered me much. I assumed it was how they always were. And if they were always fighting, it must have been okay.But it wasn’t okay.

Two days before my sister’s birthday, the fight happened again, only this time, it was stronger, louder. There was yelling. This night they had chosen to leave their door open, so once again, I was able to catch a bit of the action as it started.

My mother was already under the covers, working on something she had brought home from her job. Dad was reading next to her. They both seemed at peace, but as it went, peace always came before the storm."Riley came back in town today," Mom said casually, highlighting some text on the papers in her lap.

Dad glanced at her from the corner of her eyes. "Riley, as in boyfriend Riley?"

"As in EX-boyfriend Riley," Mom corrected him sharply. She set down her pen and looked at him. "You’re not going to get jealous of him, areyou?"

Dad tried to shake his head and dismiss the subject. However, even I could see right through him. He was jealous. "No, not at all," he lied. "It’s just that whenever he’s around, there’s always trouble."

"Like what?"

"The Initiative," Dad grumbled under his breath.

"Ha!" Mom exclaimed with a smile. "Angel, you are so jealous! The Initiative was fifteen years ago! You can’t still think he was responsible for that mess."

"Look, Buffy, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?" Dad said, a little too sharply.

Mom got suspicious. She had a habit of doing that. "What’s wrong, Angel?"

Dad sighed, setting down his book and marking the page. He couldn’t bring himself to look my mother in the eye. "I know you two had some connection… and…"

"Wait! You mean to tell me you think that because my ex is in town, I’m going to just sleep with him?" Mom demanded. She sent him a hurt and angry look. "Angel , what Riley and I had between us… It doesn’t compare to what we had. What we have. Since when don’t you trust me around other guys?"

"I do trust you around other guys," Dad pointed out, adding later, "Just not ones you’ve dated."

"Angel, in case you haven’t noticed, I chose you! I chose to marry you! I chose to spend the rest of my life with you! I chose to live with you and grow old with you and die with you by my side! What more do you want from me? You want me to just cut off my life from the outside world? Is that it?"

"You’re overreacting," Dad insisted calmly.

"No, I don’t think I am!" Mom cried. "Look at me, Angel! Tell me whatyou want from me. I have given up every desire, every ounce of my willpower to be with you! I gave up my dreams of having children, of making love to someone, of being with someone in the sunlight. So tell me what else you want me to do!"

Dad shook his head firmly. "Don’t do this, Buffy. Don’t you do this to me now! I gave you a chance at a real life! I backed out of your life and left to make my own. You were the one who came to me. You were the one who said your ‘I Do’s. So don’t you dare act like it’s my fault you can’t have those things. No one was holding you back from marrying anyone else."

She climbed out from under the sheets, walking over to the closet and pulling out a suitcase. Quickly, she began to pack.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked nervously, his eyes widening at thesuitcase.

She threw on a long overcoat over her pajamas. "I’m leaving. I need toget out of here for awhile. I need some fresh air." Her suitcase clicked shut, and she started to leave.

"Buffy…" he started.

"I’ll call you," she declared dryly, heading quickly for the door.

I quickly darted away, running for my bed. I made it in the nick of time, for just as I closed my eyes, Mom popped her head in to check onme. She checked on all three of us kids before she left, perhaps saving an image in her memory, perhaps to make sure we would be safe not knowing.

However, the next day, both my sister and my brother were hounding my dad with questions about where Mom had gone. Katrina was upset bythis. "It’s my fourteenth birthday tomorrow, Dad! She can’t just miss it!"

"She won’t," Dad insisted, quietly munching on his bowl of Frosted Flakes. He took Katrina’s hand in his. "Look, your mother cares about you too much to not be there. She’ll be back soon."

"Why’d she leave, Daddy?" Patrick asked, swinging his legs vicariously underneath the table as he dug into his Fruity Pebbles. Dad was right.Patrick had Mom’s eyes. They were deep and inquisitive, and there was something behind them that no one could quite put their finger on. He looked so innocent sitting there, wanting his mommy back.Dad looked at him and smiled briefly.

"Mommy just needed a break.She’ll be home, I promise."

No one seemed to notice the lack of questions from my end. I knew the truth in why she left. I suppose Katrina knew it, too. She was up far later than I was allowed to be, so I’m almost positive she had heard their fighting. We just never talked about it. It was as if the three of us kids walked around blindly in this house, trained to ignore certain, darker aspects of our lives.

Dad was true to his word. Mom returned later that night. She showed upon our doorstep, hair drenched from the rain. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her lower lip was trembling. I sensed trouble evenbefore I answered the door. Something wasn’t right.

"Where’s your father?" Mom asked me as I stood in the doorway.

"I’ll go get Dad," I declared, leaving the door open as I went in search of my other parent. He must’ve seen the open door before I found him, for when I returned to the entryway, he was standing there, looking out on her. I don’t think either one of them noticed me.

"Come in, Buffy," he said, his tone soft. I think they were both nervous around each other. Their relationship wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be happy.

"I don’t wan…" she started before her throat caught. "I can’t stay long." He reached out to her, but she pulled back. "Don’t touch me,Angel. I’m no good to you anymore."

"What happened?" Dad asked, his voice full of worry.

Once again, her lip trembled. She started crying before the inevitable truth came out. "I slept with Riley last night." She couldn’t even look at him.

He stiffened. "Why?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face like the rain outside our doorstep. "I don’t know."

"Why’d you come here?" he demanded, not able to actually speak. His voice would not go above a whisper.

"I don’t know! I don’t know!" she cried.

He started crying, too. I think that that was perhaps the first time I had ever seen him cry. I didn’t even think he was capable of it. At the time, I didn’t understand why there were tears or what exactly my mother had done. I just sensed that things weren’t going to be the same. Not for awhile, at least.

My mom left the front stoop soon thereafter, both of my parents still in tears. Dad watched her go with sad eyes. I don’t think he’d ever been that sad. After her car had rolled down the street, out of view, he turned away from the front door, closing it, locking it, and heading for the bedroom. He didn’t leave the room for the rest of the night, leaving us kids to wonder.

Things only got worse from there.

************

On Katrina’s birthday, there seemed to be no joyous mood around the house. There certainly wasn’t the usual "wake up the birthday person" celebration. There definitely wasn’t a cake, or balloons, and there were no presents lying on the coffee table. In fact, when I woke up that morning, I thought I had woken up in a nightmare. The feeling was…empty, hollow, dreary. Everything seemed like a shade of gray.

It didn’t help that my dad’s idea of a birthday celebration was taking us to a bar to watch him get drunk with old truckers. We were there from sunset till about 4am, at which time, I was almost asleep. Patrick had fallen asleep somewhere around 10pm, and Katrina vowed not to leave our table. We even headed to the bathroom together, afraid of some of the big and burly men in the bar.

It was amazing we got home alive. Dad drove crazy - like a drunk. It was bad enough he nearly stumbled out of the bar singing an out-of-tuner endition of "Happy Birthday," much less passed out as Katrina tried desperately to hold him up. I was left to carry Patrick to the car. I think all of us voluntarily climbed under the covers as soon as we reached home - normally an oddity in the house. Dad stayed up, though.He sat in the living room, lights off, suddenly looking extremely sober. And terribly lonely.

That’s how things went on in my house. School started up again. Kat was off to high school, me to third grade, and Patrick still in preschool. Dad slept through most of the day. He was distant when he wasn’t sleeping, and I felt like there was very little I could do to reach him. Occasionally, his barrier with the world would disappear,but soon a picture or phrase or some memory of her would rebuild it, and we’d be left alone again.

And it wasn’t as if we were completely alone. Occasionally, we would head to the Harris house to stock up on Twinkies and listen to Xander’sarmy tales and play with their many kids. Anya wasn’t terribly great to be around, though, for she was several months into her fifth pregnancy,and the mood swings were in high gear. Sometimes Cordelia and Doyle would drop by with food for us, even if it was somewhat unedible. Doyle would check up on Angel while Cordelia would sit around with us. Willow was the nicest of all, though. She would invite us over to her and Oz’s house for home-cooked meals many nights a week.

When Mom returned again, I almost hated her for what she had done to the family. Not only had she abandoned us, but she had taken my father down with her. However, when I saw her standing at our front door, looking around so timidly, all my hatred and anger was forgotten. I was just happy to see my mother.

My dad came to the door shortly after I did. I backed off, but stayedin the room. No way was I missing out on one second of seeing my mother. Especially since I had gone months without her gentle touch or soothing voice or comforting smile.

"You… you look good," Dad commented nervously.S

he examined herself briefly, but did not respond to her comment. She simply cut straight to, "I understand if you still hate me, Angel. Ihate myself for what I’ve done to you, and our children. And I just wanted to say that I am soooo sorry!"

Dad didn’t do anything for a moment. I don’t think he could, had he wanted to. "Where’ve you been?"

I think the fact that he didn’t seem to acknowledge her apology stungher… hard. Her eyes grew wide, and she looked at him as though he had slapped her across the face. It took her a minute to regain her composure. "I stayed with some friends."

"Who?"

"Friends," she repeated firmly, her eyes telling him she would say no more. Mom looked over his shoulder. "Things look good here."

"Well, they are," Dad answered briskly.They looked at each other for a moment, and then Dad’s shoulders slumped. He gave in. "I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you so much!" she cried, looking on the verge of tears.

"Watching you go… I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before," he started.

"Shhhh…" Mom took him into her arms, her eyes closed tightly shut. I think I saw a tear roll from the corner of one of her eyes. Several more followed when she opened her eyes again.

It took awhile to get her situated again. Katrina and Patrick were both overjoyed to see her, as was I. She seemed regretful for what she had done and sorry to have missed out on so much. Mom stayed with us and talked while Dad went to the store.

He returned with a bouquet of pin flowers and a little, pink stuffedbear with the words "I LOVE YOU" written on the belly in magenta letters. He lit the place with candles, leaving only one on the table unlit. It was during dinner that both my mom and dad let the wick burn. It was a friendship candle, as I would later find out.

Together again, Dad never seemed more happy. Mom never did, either.Sure, there were the tense moments when I was sure a fight would start,but nothing ever became of those moments. They were just momentary memories of pain, something they were both willing to accept.

I didn’t find out the total truth behind my parents till after their deaths. Of all people, a vampire (yes, you read that right - a vampire) named Spike was the one to tell us "The Tale of Bloody Poof and Blondie." There were some obvious biases in his storyline, but from what I gathered, my parents had something timeless about them. They were so meant for each other, and yet they couldn’t be together without consequences. Still, they were willing to work at it.

I still have pictures from their wedding in my office desk. How happy they looked. And the rings on their fingers. They had made their vows,and through their trouble, they had survived. Someone once told me that only true love could survive all. I guess… no, I know… that’s what they had. And wherever they are, I know they’re together.

So that’s what this bear means to me. It’s not a junk toy that I would ever dream of selling. It’s not even a real childhood memory. What it is is a sign for me. True love. It does exist. And it does outlast it all.

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