Faith was leaning under the hood of a ’57 Chevy that had seen better days when she heard strange pitter pattering footsteps. She glanced up in time to see a little blonde girl, probably three or four years old, running into the garage. Jogging carelessly behind her was a young redheaded woman.

“Hey!” Faith shouted, waving her wrench. “Get your kid the fuck outta here! You think we want to be sued when she takes a header?”

The little blonde girl kept running until she got to a pair of legs sticking out from the ’98 Ford Contour in the other garage stall. The redhead did nothing to stop the girl and Faith was preparing to raise hell to get her point when the girl yanked on her boss’ pant leg.

“Out!” The little girl demanded. The pigtails in her hair bobbed as she tugged harder on the pants. “Daddy!”

“That’s strange,” he said. The smile in his voice was apparent. “I thought I heard a little Samantha voice out there.”

“Daddy!” she giggled, tugging again. “’Mantha out here, Daddy!”

Angel rolled out from under the car and grinned widely. “There’s my princess!”

Samantha giggled happily and smacked a kiss on his lips, making an exaggerated “mwah” sound. Angel glanced over at Faith, who glared disapprovingly. He was more than a little surprised. She had only been working for him for a couple of weeks and aside from her ability to take apart a carburetor with her eyes closed, she always seemed incredibly laid back about everything. He’d never seen her even irritated before. This was new.

“Don’t stress, James,” Angel said, referring to her by her last name as always. “My daughter is well aware of the rules of the garage, right sweetheart?”

Samantha’s nose scrunched up as she surveyed her father’s workspace. “Dirty tools,” she answered with obvious disdain. He pulled himself to his feet and walked toward the sink to wash his hands and Samantha trotted behind him, carefully stepping over any tools lying around. As he scrubbed up, he noticed Willow just inside, watching the action.

“Hey Will,” he said, nodding in her direction. “Buffy’s midterms going over?”

“Hey,” she said with a wave. “Yeah. She asked me to bring the squirt over.”

“Appreciate it,” Angel said, grinning. “Willow, meet Faith James, the newest employee of Roarke Autobody. James, this is Willow, my wife’s best friend.”

“Yeah.” Faith said, leaning under the hood of the Chevy again. “Whatever.”

***

Buffy walked through the front door, dropped her backpack and sank onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh. Angel walked around the corner whistling a jaunty little tune with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. He smiled at the picture Buffy presented. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a light blue v-neck blouse. He could see the circles under her eyes from the sleepless nights spent cramming for her midterms. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Leaning down, he pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. "Dinner's almost ready," he told her.

She pulled him down onto the couch and snuggled against him. "Have I ever told you that you're the perfect husband?" she asked.

"Yes," he told her seriously, "but honestly, I think I need to hear it more."

She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "I love you," she said sleepily.

"Ditto," he said, pressing a hard kiss on the top of her head.

After several minutes of snuggles, Buffy finally pulled away, stretching. She looked around, frowning. "Where's the munchkin?"

"Changing," Angel replied blandly.

Buffy cringed. "How many times is that today?"

"Four since we got home two hours ago," he said. "So really, it’s a pretty slow day."

Buffy sighed. Samantha would change clothes every five minutes if you let her. And though Buffy tried to be sneaky, the little girl was so particular. If she'd had something on for ten minutes, it was dirty and just had to be washed. Every now and then, Buffy could sneak something back into her closet, but Samantha was quick. She'd watch you like a hawk and more often than not, Buffy was stuck laundering clothes she knew were already clean. "I'll be so glad when she grows out of this," Buffy said wearily.

Angel looked at his wife, fingering the hem of her shirt. This was not the same outfit that he'd seen laid out on the bed when he left in the morning. "Grow out of it," he repeated thoughtfully. "And when exactly can I expect you to grow out of it?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, but ignored him. Her propensity for changing her outfits was an entirely different matter. Entirely. She walked into the kitchen, shadowed by Angel. Sniffing the heavenly scents, she lifted the lids on the various simmering pots. "Mmmm, Italian," she said. "My favorite."

"We aim to please here at Chez Angel, ma'am," he told her with mock seriousness.

Buffy ignored her husband's odd humor, turning around and levering herself up to sit on the countertop. "So how's James working out?" Buffy asked offhandedly.

"Okay," Angel said with a shrug. "Much better than Connor. I swear if that boy doesn't get his head out of the clouds soon he's going to have to find another job, family or not."

Buffy hooked a toe through Angel's belt loops and pulled him close, pressing a smacking kiss against his cheek. Connor, Angel's teenage cousin, was always a sore spot. The boy was constantly goofing off, being more of a hindrance than a help. Angel was trying to be nice, offering him a job, but it was turning out to be much more hassle than it was worth.

***

“Thank Gods! Free at last.” Buffy groaned, flopping down on the blanket Willow was sitting on in the middle of the quad. After Midterms were over that day, she and Willow had planned a celebratory picnic. Will had gone over board with all the different foods, beverages and dessert. Buffy picked through the contents of the basket eagerly.

“Hey,” Willow chided, brushing her hands away. She scooted her basket closer to her side and gave her friend a little warning look. “No fingers in the food until everyone’s here.”

Buffy groaned, but laid back on the blanket and looked up at the blue, blue sky. She was elated that Midterms were finally over and she was so tired, she could have fallen asleep right there. She was looking forward to a little friend time though. Cordy should be heading over soon, as well as Oz. Xander, Angel and Samantha were all coming from off campus to share in the feast. It had been a really long time since they’d had a picnic.

Buffy closed her eyes just for a moment, half listening to Willow’s excited description of how well her tests went. She opened her eyes when a shadow fell over her. Expecting only Angel or Oz to approach that silently, she was already smiling when she opened them, only to see Parker Abrams standing over her.

“Worn out?” he asked, with a knowingly grin. Buffy propped herself up on her elbows and smiled back.

“Yeah. Beat,” she answered. “You all done too?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head regrettably. “One more.”

“Too bad,” Buffy answered, stifling a yawn. She chitchatted with Parker for a few moments, while he scanned the campus, checking out the girls who passed by. She rolled her eyes. He was a nice guy, but really a total slut.

“Damn, look at this guy,” Parker said, nodding across the campus. Buffy looked over in that direction and saw Angel walking along. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans. His arms and chest bulged with his muscles and half of his tattoos peaked out from the sleeves. Samantha was resting on his hip, too prissy to walk in all that grass, she supposed with a grin. Her daughter looked like she was chatting all too happily about whatever it was in his ear. He listened intently, cocking his head toward Samantha.

Engrossed, in her family’s approach, she missed half of what Parker was saying. “…looks like he belongs in a bar fight not on campus. I bet he doesn’t go here.”

Buffy scowled at Parker and pulled herself to her feet. Brushing off the imaginary dust on her clothes, she started walking toward Angel.

“Where are you going?” Parker asked.

“To greet my husband and daughter,” Buffy said, spitting irritation with her words. Parker watched in shock as the little girl jumped from her father to her mother and wrapped her legs around her mother’s waist. Now that he looked closer, he could see the resemblance. He turned away as she kissed the bruiser and found himself looking at Willow.

“That was really mean,” Willow said, holding her basket even closer. Any thoughts of sharing just flew out the window.

“How was I supposed to know she was married to that thug?”

“Does it matter?” Willow said, frowning at him. “You just think you’re better than everyone else?”

Practically sneering, Parker looked Angel up and down. “I don’t just think it, honey. I know it. People need to stick with their own kind.” He nodded toward Buffy and Angel. “Their relationship does them both a disservice.”

“That’s not true,” Willow said vehemently. “They love each other.”

Parker shrugged. “What’s love anyway? A reaction in the brain, that chemically speaking at least, isn’t too different from eating large amounts of chocolate? It doesn’t last Willow. If you have any desire for a long term bond, you need to find a partner with the same life experience, the same goals as you.”

Willow snorted, rolling her eyes. “How boring.”

Shaking his head, Parker said, “I’ve seen you and your boyfriend. You’re another prime example. He’s a musician, gone on the road for weeks at a time. I saw his band the Doggies – “

“Dingoes.”

“Dingoes, whatever, playing at the Bronze the other day. The lead singer for Shy guest vocaled on a few songs. There’s some definite heat between the two of them. They fit together, cut from the same mold – “

“You can leave now,” Willow said forcefully, glaring at him. She wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of poophead, Parker.

He smiled condescendingly at her. “Have a good day, Willow. If you ever feel like pulling off you blinders and seeing how the world really works, you know where I am.”

Willow scowled at Parker’s retreating form. “As if!” she yelled after him.

“As if what?” Oz asked, sitting down next to her.

Turning, Willow looked at her boyfriend, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Oh, just stinky Parker man being a jerk,” Willow said. “He doesn’t know anything.”

“So, where’s the food?” Buffy asked, sinking down onto the blanket with Samantha as Angel did the same.

***

TBC...