*****

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Buffy groaned. “Why does this mean so much to you? Why can’t you be here with your family?”

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

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

“Two days,” Angel promised. “And then I’ll be here. I just want to finish this one and then I’ll take a break for a while.”

“You always say that!” she shouted angrily. “I’m so fucking tired of this, Angel!”

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

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

***

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

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

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

Defiantly, Joey crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I get to be the monster and you get to be the world’s greatest dad,” Buffy informed him seriously.

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

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

***

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

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

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

“This isn’t a field trip,” Buffy grouched. “She’s been punished for her behavior.”

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

“Go to school, Samantha,” Buffy growled.

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

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

“Mom!”

“Now!”

***

“Kellerman is such a prick!”

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

“He’s a slave driver,” Amy groused, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

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

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

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

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

Rolling her eyes, Buffy said, “I have a family. I can’t party like I’m in college.”

“You are in college,” Justine pointed out.

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

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

“Good then,” Lindsey interrupted. “You can go.”

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

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

Buffy sighed in defeat. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go to the party tomorrow.”

***

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

“What do you want me to do?” Angel demanded. “I’m in meetings all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” Angel rejoined.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“You think Dad’s going to hold his ground?” Samantha asked cautiously.

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

***

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

“Late, mom. I don’t know. The last one ran until two in the morning.”

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

“Will do. Later.”

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

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

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

“Evenin’,” he said, raking his eyes over her body hungrily.

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

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

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

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

“He isn’t competition. He’s my husband. He has no competition.”

“Course not, darlin’,” he drawled.

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

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

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

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

“Gods, what’s it like?” Anya asked, eyeing Buffy speculatively.

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

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

Buffy shrugged, smiling. “Angel’s the only person I’ve ever had sex with,” she answered easily.

Justine, Amy and Anya gaped at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel,” she slurred again, scooting away. “Married to Angel.”

“I’ll have you, Buffy, and sooner than you think,” he said in a low, soothing voice.

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

“I know exactly what you are,” he answered.

***

On to part 3