*****

Buffy was starting to sober up by the time Lindsey's car was approaching the house. Full awareness hadn't returned yet, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd done some very stupid things.

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop before she had the door open and was running for the house. Ever the consummate chess player, Lindsey let her go without a word, waiting until she was safely inside before he pulled out of the driveway.

Buffy woke the next morning with a pounding headache. Her mouth tasted like she'd spent the evening licking an ashtray and she barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited the meager contents of her stomach. By noon, she was vaguely human, though she was creeping around the house in her bathrobe, avoiding Samantha's pointed looks. She took a shower, but she couldn't look at herself in the mirror.

What had she done? Buffy cringed at the mere thought. She'd gone out with Lindsey, gotten extremely drunk, let him grind against her and cuddle with her. She was a married woman!

But even as Buffy berated herself for her actions, she couldn't deny that she'd had fun. Touching Lindsey was a rush. A very bad, forbidden rush, but a rush nonetheless. He was so young and handsome and charming. Touching him was all sparkly and new. Sure, Angel's touch got her hot like no other, but she had a whole train full of baggage with Angel. Buffy knew it was stupid. Undoubtedly Lindsey had his own baggage, but at least she wasn't privy to it. From where she stood, he could look perfect because she wasn't forced to dig beneath the surface. With Angel, she knew everything there was to know about him, the good, the bad, the ugly, the sexy as hell. Dammit, Angel drove her insane, but she loved him beyond measure. He was her lover, her other-half, her perfect complement. And yet, she'd let Lindsey touch her. Buffy groaned loudly, burying her head in her pillow.

By the time Angel and Joey got home in the late afternoon, Buffy had managed to be downstairs for a while instead of glued to her bed and had even eaten a couple of pieces of dry toast. She ignored the fact that she and Samantha hadn’t spoken all day. She had no interest in answering any questions that her daughter might have about why she was so hung over. The idea of being drunk was suddenly connected with Lindsey’s face and she felt herself flushing with guilt again.

Joey was the first one through the door, hauling her backpack with her and stomping. She spied her mother on the couch and practically snarled at her. “Thanks a lot for ruining our trip to San Francisco,” she snapped. “Daddy wouldn’t let me do a fucking thing and thanks to you he was in a bad mood for half the time we were there.”

“It wasn’t a vacation, Josephine,” Buffy said, trying to keep her voice even. “You are still grounded no matter where you are.”

“I hate you,” Joey shouted. “You are such a fucking bitch!”

“Language!” Buffy tersely responded and gaped when Angel came into the house. He looked furious. He sized her up briefly and then turned back to his daughter, who he had gripped on the upper arm and turned to face him.

“You are angry with your mother,” Angel said quietly. “I understand that, but you will apologize right now for speaking that way to her and I will never, ever hear you say something so hurtful to her again. Do you understand?”

“Daddy-“

“Do you understand me?” he repeated very slowly.

“Yes,” she whispered back. Glancing over, she muttered, “Sorry, Mom.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran upstairs, taking them two a time and seconds later her bedroom door slammed so hard Buffy thought the ceiling was going to tumble into the living room. Angel left his bag sitting in the hall and shut the door behind him, before walking into the living room to look over his wife. He loomed over her with his arms across his chest and glared for a second.

“You’re hung over,” he announced.

“I drank too much last night,” she answered quietly. She swallowed a needed breath of air and felt guilt for her actions swamp over her again. She loved Angel, truly, almost desperately some days. There was no excuse for what happened with Lindsey.

“I got an interesting call from Wesley before we boarded the plane this afternoon,” Angel said, still standing over her. His eyes seemed to be growing darker with every second. “He’s been seeing Virginia on and off for the last year, so naturally he was at your little party last night.”

“R-really?” Buffy stuttered. It took every ounce of will power to keep her eyes on his face and to hide the wild panic that filled her. Her heart was stampeding in her chest.

“Yes,” Angel growled. “Please tell me that the gorgeous blonde in a skimpy little outfit he saw wasn’t you.”

“Angel,” Buffy whimpered, scooted further into the couch as if it could make her disappear.

“Please tell me that you weren’t the woman who was drunk off her ass and who apparently came and went with a man that is not me.” His voice was dangerously low and predatory as he looked over her. Even his anger couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes and he finally sat down on the couch next to her, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything with him, Angel,” she pleaded. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Getting drunk with another man and performing a mating ritual that apparently serves as dancing isn’t cheating on me?” he asked in a rasping voice.

“I love you,” she said, reaching out to touch him. He pulled back as if her touch would burn him and rose from the couch.

“I love you too, Buffy,” he answered. “I can’t believe that was you last night. I told Wes he was obviously mistaken because my wife wouldn’t have acted that way.”

“I…I just wanted to have a good time, that’s all,” Buffy said, tears filling her eyes. “I just wanted to be carefree for one night. I didn’t do anything with Lindsey.”

“Lindsey,” Angel repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Well, I hope you had a great time being fucking carefree.”

***

By the time Buffy mustered enough courage to venture into the bedroom, Angel was already in bed. All the lights were off and he was on his side, facing away from her. Quietly as possible, Buffy slipped beneath the covers next to him. She could tell from the rigid line of his shoulder and his short breaths that he wasn't asleep, but he was pretending - pretending so he didn't have to look at her or talk to her or think about the fact that she'd made a fool of herself with Lindsey.

Buffy curled up into a little ball, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't allow herself to sob. She didn't want Angel to know that she was crying. She was afraid he would think she was trying to manipulate him into feeling sorry for her.

She was awake for a long time, watching his silhouette. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell asleep, unconsciously shifting onto his back to get more comfortable. Swamped with guilt, but needing comfort, Buffy inched nearer and nearer to him until she was pressed against his side. In his sleep, Angel sighed, turning so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

***

Buffy had never been a morning person, so it wasn't a shock that she had slept later than Angel. But his absence from their bed on a lazy Sunday morning pulled at her heart. How was she ever going to gain his forgiveness? Buffy was no longer hung over, but her heart was so heavy that it was almost as physically painful.

Angel was sitting at the kitchen table when she finally went downstairs, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. He did not glance up as she entered the room, but she saw the muscles in his jaw flex. Oh, he was mad.

"Angel," she ventured quietly.

"I am not ready to talk to you yet, Buffy," he said coldly, turning the page of the paper.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her own waist. She deserved whatever he could dole out.

***

Buffy had a constant headache for the next week. Between Joey's incessant bitching about being grounded, Angel's icy cold shoulder and upcoming midterms, she was so frazzled she hardly knew where to turn. Her school matters also weren't helped by the fact that aside from attending class, Buffy did not do anything else with her classmates. Lindsey she refused to even look at, and she backed out of all the group study sessions, making sure she was home each night.

Little by little, Angel thawed. He was undoubtedly angry with her, but her guilt was genuine and he had to know nothing significant happened with Lindsey. By Wednesday night, he hadn't even fallen asleep yet when he spooned against her back, burying his face in her hair. Friday morning he actually said hello to her. Saturday afternoon when he returned home from work to find Buffy and the girls watching a movie, he wordlessly picked Buffy out of the overstuffed chair before sitting down, depositing her in his lap and proceeding to eat her entire bowl of popcorn. Sunday morning, when he reached for her, Buffy giggled in relief. Hours later, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair back from her face and swore vehemently, "I love you, Buffy, forever."

***

Monday morning after her first class, Buffy went to the garage to see if she could catch Angel. Even though he spent the majority of his time managing the new developments, Roarke Autobody was still his first love. He worked alongside his employees regularly. He liked the physical labor and enjoyed getting his hands in the thick of the matter.

The day was bright and lovely and Buffy was in a terrific mood. She was so overwhelmed with happiness that she had avoided losing Angel and she just wanted to bask in his presence for a little while before she went back to classes.

She walked into the garage and saw it was deserted. No one was working. She smiled to herself. She knew they all liked to sit around in the late morning and have coffee together from time to time. She approached the office door and immediately bristled as she heard Faith’s voice coming from inside. Shaking off her negative attitude took a second and she stood behind the door. Faith was an employee and nothing else. Buffy needed to remember that.

“I never got a chance to thank you for coming to dinner with the Nabbits.” Angel’s deep voice rumbled.

“No problem,” Faith answered in her low throaty voice. “You needed a hot chick to make that nerd boy stumble all over himself.”

Buffy veins turned to ice as she pushed open the door and eyed Angel furiously. All the happy, floaty thoughts she had mustered disappeared in an instant. Faith was sitting on the corner of Angel’s desk. As always she had enough cleavage showing to leave nothing to the imagination. Buffy wasn’t even sure how she got under cars with her skin tight clothing on, but somehow she managed.

“Faith,” Buffy greeted coolly.

“B,” Faith said with a nod. Turning to Angel she said lightly, “Well, I guess break time’s over.”

Faith barely got through the door when Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, cocked out her hip and planted a severe glare on Angel before speaking through gritted teeth. “You tortured me for a week or more for going out with Lindsey! You wouldn’t even speak to me or touch me. I went through hell and you…YOU went out with Faith!”

“It was a business dinner,” Angel said, rising to his feet. “It’s not the same thing.”

“No!” she shouted, “It’s worse! You know how I feel about her being alone with you after the times she tried to seduce you. I can’t believe you would do that to me! I was in HELL and you had the audacity to treat me like I was not even worth a discussion!”

"I had dinner with Faith," Angel shouted. "After you repeatedly turned me down for your study group with LINDSEY!" He was furious, breathing hard as he glared at her. "I needed a fourth person to round out the dinner, Faith was willing and able. She did it as a favor, nothing more. This is in no way on par with you getting drunk and going to a college party where you let some … some … BOY paw you like you were a two bit whore!"

Buffy stared at him in open shock. Angel straightened his spine and stuck his chin out, posturing in exactly the same manner Joey did when she knew she'd stepped over the line.

"A whore?" Buffy repeated in a near whisper. "That's what you think of me?"

Angel's mask of indifference vanished in a second and he quickly crossed the distance to her, his hands held out in a placating gesture. "That's not what I meant," he quickly amended.

Buffy jumped back, hissing at him in blinding fury. "Don't touch me!"

Angel paced around the room in a tight circle, dragging his hand through his hair. "Buffy, you just … you just have to understand. Do you have any idea what it's like for me? You have all these new friends, these *young* new friends. This Lindsey kid is what? A dozen years younger than you?"

"So what," Buffy spat. "I can't be friends with someone younger? I'm so old and decrepit that I couldn't possibly have anything in common with someone so vibrant and young?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Angel said seriously. His face fell. "Buffy, it's just that … do you have any idea how this feels for me? That you would prefer the company of some stupid, hotheaded kid to me? What do you think people think when they see you with Lindsey, even if you are just friends?"

"I don't know," Buffy countered angrily, "that we're classmates, that we like the same jokes, that we're FRIENDS!" She glared at him for several more moments and then it all clicked into place. She felt bile rise at the back of her throat as she was swamped with disgust.

"Is that what this is about?" she demanded. "Has your precious male pride been wounded because I'm friends with a younger man?"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw set hard. But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh. My. Gawd!" Buffy yelled angrily. "That's it. You're afraid that people think maybe you're not doing your husbandly duty so some kid is stepping in to fill the void."

Angel snorted. "Yeah, well, is it really such a stretch?" he asked her pointedly. "He is young and different. He's a brain and goes to law school with you. You can have conversations with him that you could never have with me. He's from old money."

Buffy shook her head. "You're not turning this around on me," she said. "I'm fairly sure that by the mere fact that I'm *married* to you, that I gave you two *children* that people can figure out whose company I prefer. So I'm friends with Lindsey. So what? You made me feel like shit for dancing with him and all the while you'd taken that lying, cheating, skanky little whore to dinner with your business partner without so much as mentioning it to me."

"Faith is my friend," Angel said tightly. "Nothing more."

"Yeah," Buffy said with a snort. "Your friend with the blow-up doll body who it just so happens has been trying to nail you for the last fifteen years. Your friend who shares all your stupid little jokes, who knows how to fix cars, who can drink any Hell's Angel under the table down at your dad's bar. The friend that I had specifically asked you not to see."

Angel growled in frustration. "What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

Buffy stared at him defiantly. Impetuously, it came to her. "Fire Faith," she said flatly.

Angel stared at his wife for a moment and then shook his head in exasperation. "I can't fire Faith," he said. "She runs the fucking shop. Without her, Roarke Autobody would never turn a profit."

"I don't care," Buffy said coldly. "With Roarke Enterprises taking over California, Roarke Autobody doesn't need to turn a profit. Fire her."

Angel looked at his wife, convinced she was having some sort of meltdown and that everything would be better when she calmed down. "I won’t fire Faith," he informed her shortly.

"Then I want you out of my house," Buffy told him, tears glittering in her eyes.

Angel stared at her dumbly. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Out. Today. And I'm not kidding."

He tried to reach for her, but she twisted out of his grip, snarling like a thing possessed. He quickly released her, but could do nothing more than stare at her back as she stomped out of the shop.

***

Angel thought a lot about the week that he didn’t speak to Buffy. He thought about the many times he hung around with Faith when he knew Buffy would not approve. It had been difficult to remain angry with her so finally he just gave it up. Seeing the sorrow on her face was more than he could stand, but this…this was so much worse. In the years they had been together, she had never kicked him out, never actually made him sleep on the couch even when she threatened it and never for any reason flung herself away from his touch like that.

Fear twisted in the pit of his stomach when he went home late that evening. He worked hard all day and even booted Faith off the last car and sent her home just so he could absorb in the task. Nothing worked.

He stepped into the house tentatively and looked around. Joey and Samantha were sitting primly on the couch side by side. The television was off, there were no books, no conversation. They simply sat there.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked quietly. He could tell by their faces that his fear was not in vain. Something was very, very wrong.

“She’s upstairs,” Samantha said quietly.

“She’s packing your stuff,” Joey added. Simultaneously, she jumped off the couch and burst into tears. “She’s not really making you move out, is she, Daddy?”

He kissed her forehead lightly and then pulled away, saying nothing. What could he possibly say to his daughters? He didn’t even truly understand why she was kicking him out. He headed up the stairs and approached the bedroom door cautiously. Three suitcases stood in a neat row by the door and she stood there with her arms crossed, waiting.

“Baby, I know you’re angry with me,” Angel said quietly, “but we can work this out. Let’s just sit down and talk about it.”

”I want you out,” she said. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red and swollen, announcing that she had spent a great deal of the time crying. Her voice was hoarse and if that wasn’t enough, it seemed like her entire body was shaking.

“Please don’t do this,” Angel pleaded quietly. “I love you, Buffy. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You lied to me,” she said, struggling not to cry. “You called me…you called me a whore. Get out of my house.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, daring to take a step closer.

“GET OUT!” she raged, tossing the first thing she could find at him, which happened to be the alarm clock. “Get the hell out of my house, Angel!”

“I’m your husband, Buffy!” he shouted back, ducking the alarm clock. It barely missed his temple and crashed into the wall in the hallway. Desperate to stop the inevitable, he kept talking, “We have children! Think about this, Buffy. You don’t want me to leave.”

“Get out, Angel,” Buffy growled, “or I’ll have you thrown out.”

Giving into her wishes was the last thing Angel wanted to do, but he knew it would be for the best. If her winging the alarm clock was any indication, she was far too angry to attempt any rational discussion of the situation. And truth be told, Angel couldn’t stand the thought of his daughters hearing their argument, seeing their anger. As much as it tore him to pieces, he knew he had to leave or both he and Buffy were going to do some things they would really regret.

Morosely, Angel took the suitcases downstairs. As soon as she saw him, Joey burst into hysterical sobs. Angel had been prepared for Joey’s reaction, but at the sight of Samantha, his ever-composed little princess with tears streaming down her cheeks, his heart broke. Taking great care to keep his voice even and his expression neutral, Angel set down the suitcases and beckoned his daughters closer. They both latched on to him, sobbing and Angel did his best to soothe them, kissing the tops of their heads.

“Everything will be fine,” he told them. “Don’t worry about it. Me and your mom will get this all worked out.”

Joey sniffled loudly and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Where are you going?”

Angel stared at her blankly for a moment. He had no idea where he was going actually. “I’m not sure,” he said. When that set off another crying fit, Angel shushed her. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “I have my cell phone with me, call me if you need anything.”

As he pulled out of the driveway, watching his daughters who were standing in the open doorway, a tear trickled down Angel’s own cheek. He quickly tried to shake it off. This was just a fluke. Buffy was irrationally upset. Tomorrow he would talk to her and they would get everything sorted out. He wouldn’t even have to unpack.

***

On to part 4