Shattered Fairytale

Part Two
**

"Daddy!" Isabelle screamed in delight, her four-year-old legs running as fast as they could to her father's open and awaiting arms.

Her pink and sparkly shoelaces having come undone at some point between Buffy's Jeep and the cement sidewalk to Angel, Isabelle stepped on the pink offenders, tripped and fell. Her hands and knees scrapping the rough surface not letting anything deter her from her goal in sight, Isabelle brushed off her knees and palms and got back up, finishing her run, and jumping into Angel's arms. Her little arms wrapping tightly around her father's neck, a hundred watt smile plastered on the four-year-olds face.

Buffy having witnessed the accident, quickly scooted her seven-year-old son, Jake, out of the front seat of the Jeep so she could lock the doors and check up on her slightly clumsy daughter. Ushering her son down the path, juggling her youngest, Rowan, in her arms along with his diaper bag and a duffel bag full of her children's clothes; Buffy and company finally made it up to her ex-husband and daughter.

"Are you okay Ellie?" Buffy questioned, worried eyes traveling up and down the length of her daughter's body, checking for scraps, cuts, bruises or other ailments.

"She's fine, just tripped." Angel answered for his daughter who was not paying any attention instead favoring to fiddle gleefully with the fine hairs on his neck, causing shivers to run up and down his spine.

Buffy's head whipped up at the sound of his voice. Seeing the bemused smile on his face, it felt like the old days. She could not help but notice how perfect they fit together, how perfect their little family was. Buffy could still remember many times Angel had mocked her overly motherly ways. Having at one point in time tended over every sniffle, every paper cut, and every hiccup. The first year Jacob was in their lives Buffy was at the doctors more than she was at home. Just like old times, she surmised.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, this was not like old times. They would never be like old times, they couldn't. Back then Angel loved her, back then her and his family had been the world to him, now... well she was not even sure what he cared about these days.

"Champ, sorry I missed your game." Angel apologized, noting how his son had yet to say a single word, his head turned down looking at the sidewalk the entire walk up. "Did you score?"

Jake shrugged his shoulder's not turning his attention from the sidewalk, just scooting closer to his mother. "No big deal."

"It is to me," Angel clarified, "I had this last minute business call," He was not completely lying; the call had been last minute; and he had planned on making it to the game he'd just lost track of time, the calling taking longer than he'd expected. It also dealt with business, not strictly the professional sense of business, more personal. He had called to apologize to Carrie, he did not want to get back together with her, he just felt guilty for the way things ended, he should have ran after her. And if there was one thing Angel did not need anymore of, it was guilt. He had more than a lifetime's supply of that.

"Don't you want to tell your father about the goal you scored?" Buffy asked, setting the diaper bag and duffel bag on the ground to pull her son to her side. Truth be told, Buffy was not sure why she felt so bad for Angel. She'd been furious at him earlier, he had promised Jacob he'd be at his last game of the season, and he'd missed it.

Nonetheless, Buffy did know how much Angel adored and loved his kids. She also knew they meant the world to him, and no matter how badly he hurt her, he'd never intentionally do the same to them.

Even when he'd grown distant with her over the years, Angel had always been the same sweet, caring, devoting, and loving father he always had been. Even when he'd cancel dates with Buffy to stay late at the office, Angel never once missed a soccer game, or ballet recital, or piano lesson- the entire two months Jake had taken on the challenge. He'd always make sure Rowan was okay when he'd cry in the middle of the night, he'd taught Jake and even Isabelle how to throw a baseball. He'd helped Rowan learn to crawl and than walk. If Buffy was sure of one thing when it came to her former lover, it was that he did love, and always would love, his kids.

"Your very first goal and I missed it." Angel tried to act excited, tried to be delighted about his son's accomplishment, but was torn up inside. He'd missed his first-born son's very first official goal. Sure Jake had scored numerous goals when they'd been playing, or even at soccer practice, but never at a game.

Angel contemplated why he was still alive, why his newly beating heart was not ripped out from inside him, why he deserved the life he'd so callously had taken for granted.

Feeling Isabelle's weight in his arms, feeling her hot breaths on his shoulder; seeing Jake's arms wrapped tightly around his mother's leg, knowing the disappointment on his face; looking into Rowan's bright milk chocolate eyes, as he gurgled happily in his mother's arms his hands clapping together in sporadic movements. Taking in all the beauty and wonder that was Buffy.

Her hair, a few shades darker now, falling in lose waves just past her shoulders. Her eyes that mix of different blues, greens, and browns, that no matter how many different ways Angel would paint them, he'd never get the exact color down. They'd sparkled with life and energy at one point, and albeit they were still gorgeous, he noted the lack of sparkle. Not to sound conceited, but he also realized that lack of luster in her eyes was due in large part because of him. She'd also lost a large bulk of her weight, where her feminine curves had once been, was now replaced by skin and bone. She was gorgeous still, even at her worst. With little to no make up on, she was breath taking still.

For the life of him, Angel could not fathom why he'd decided to give all this up. He could not figure out why he'd bother to risk the perfect life he'd always dreamt of and had finally gotten.

It was not as if he'd deserved this life. Angel had waited as patiently as possible to wake up from this dream because he'd always known that his life had been too good to be true. An ex-vampire he scoured the world for a century viciously and brutally murdering every innocent thing that came in his path did not deserve happiness.

Angel had just waited for the fates or Buffy to wake up and realize the awful mistake that had made. Angel had waited for as long as possible for his life's dreams, his every whim and fantasy to be snatched away.

A murdering and raping ex-vampire was not allowed redemption, he was not allowed the love of his life; he was not allowed to be blessed with three beautiful and healthy kids. Angel waited.

That was about the time that Carrie had come into the picture. She was gorgeous. Unless you compared her to Buffy, which in that case her beauty couldn't even hold a flame compared to the slayer.

She'd moved from Oklahoma to Los Angeles in pursuit of that Hollywood life and fame. She had that thick country accent that at one point, Angel found tantalizingly sexy- a mix of seduction and innocence. She had blonde hair; pretty close in shade to his slayer's hue, only hers was shorter at the time. She had round blue eyes that sparkled with naivety. She wasn't aware of what went bump in the night, or the vicious thing Angel had once been. He liked that. It had been a big part of what pulled him to her- that and the very obvious fact that she liked him.

Carrie, like his slayer, wore her heart on her sleeve. Leaving her vulnerable and open. In a lot of aspects Carrie was a lot like Buffy. The main, and biggest difference, being that she was clueless as to who he really was. Or what he really had been.

Angel had needed to feel normal. It was not as if Buffy hadn't accepted what he once was, that was the furthest thing from the truth. Buffy took in everything he was; she'd even experienced everything he had done when the demon controlled his body. He'd hurt her so much, and yet she forgave him. She loved him. He could not stop the guilt that ate away at him with the thought.

With Carrie, he was just Joe normal. Things were light. She didn't care about his past, and he was grateful. It had started out as a simple kiss, an innocent kiss. She'd kissed him, he'd pulled away; but steadily things progressed. Till at some point in time, they'd be fucking on his office desk only minutes before Buffy was due in to meet him for lunch.

The only real reason Angel could come up with as to why he'd cheated on Buffy was he liked how Carrie made him feel. Sexually and not, he liked not being plagued with guilt as to his past; she was his break, his escape from the world.

Of course Angel felt guilty about what he was doing; lying and cheating behind Buffy's back; but for some reason at that point in time, Angel felt as if his actions were justified.

Now, Angel could not believe he'd ever been so foolish. He could not believe he'd ever sacrificed his one true chance at happiness, even if he didn't feel he deserved the happiness. And not just for his own sake, but for Buffy and his kids.

All Angel seemed to be good at was making Buffy's life hell. Demon or no demon. Man or vampire. If he could see it, Angel wondered why Buffy couldn't- or if she could she why she did not care. Did she honestly think he was worth all the pain he caused her?

"I slipped over the ball and it kicked in, the goalie wasn't really paying attention." Jake answered dully; referring to the goal he'd scored earlier this afternoon. He'd been ecstatic, accident or no accident earlier today, he had quickly searched the crowd immediately spotting his mother and waving ecstatically up to her after a few more seconds of scanning the grassy hill Jake realized his father wasn't there. His spirits had been done in the mud ever since. The goal didn't count if his father wasn't there.

"I'll be there for your next one." Angel promised, not only to Jake but to Buffy and himself as well. His eyes looking directly at Buffy the entire time he spoke.

"There should be enough clothes for the weekend." Buffy stated, quickly changing the subject, staring past Angel's shoulder not able to handle the intensity of his gaze.

Angel nodded, heartbroken at her rejection. He saw how uncomfortable Buffy was at his gaze; saw how unnerving she had become because of it. He saw the pain and sorrow in her eyes, and how she tried to mask it for her children's sakes. It tore him apart, knowing he was the reason.

He wished there was a way to reverse his wrong doings, wished there were a way to travel back in time, to avoid all the heartache; but temporal folds were a tricky thing, and no matter how hard Angel wished there was no way of undoing the wrong doings he'd done.

"I'm not sure what your plans were," Angel started off cautiously, seeing Buffy's eyes widen in terror, "But there's a fresh batch of coffee upstairs if you wanted a cup."

Isabelle smiled, her head resting on her father's shoulder, at the thought of her Mommy and Daddy together again. She liked when they were together. They were happier. And when they were happy she got lots of toys and hugs and kisses. She hated night times now; she'd started making frequent trips downstairs, sneaking past her grandmother's room, sitting on the stairs listening to her mother cry. She hated when her mother cried. It made her sad.

"I, uh, d-don't think that's such a-" Buffy started, rambling nervously. This had been the first time Buffy had seen Angel in a little over a month, and even when she'd seen him before she hadn't actually talked to him, their lawyers had done the talking. Every time he'd called the house, she'd been lucky enough not to answer the phone, Joyce, Isabelle, or Jake answering it instead.

"Please Mommy." Jake begged, pleading to his mother, his lower lip jutting out.

Taking a deep breath Buffy cursed her son, wishing she had the strength to say no to him, "I guess one cup is okay."

She knew Jake did not want to see his father, let alone spend the better part of the weekend with him. She knew Jake was still upset about this afternoon, and about what was happening between her and Angel. Jake blamed Angel, blamed his father for walking out on him. At seven, he still did not completely understand everything that was happening. Try as Buffy might to explain things to him, he still blamed Angel. He still felt like Angel had walked out on them, on him.

Angel understood she said yes to Jake, not him, but he could care less. The point of the matter was that Buffy had said yes to coffee.

Sometimes you just had to lose everything to know how special and important certain things were. Or maybe not even to know how special but to know how much you wanted them.

Over the years together, Angel admittedly had taken certain aspects in his life for granted, intentional or not he wasn't sure- he couldn't remember exactly what was going through his head at the time, but having lost everything he cherished made him see how much he needed Buffy and the kids. This nights and days were endless, pointless, a slow motion picture trudging by.

Buffy remembered a time long ago when coffee with Angel was all she dreamt about. Not so much the coffee but the fact that she'd get it with Angel. Now, after being married and having three kids together, coffee with Angel scared her more than anything.

The family of five stood in silence, unmoving, watching as life passed them by.

"Poo-poo." Rowan squirmed, his hands pulling at his blue corduroy shorts, his face scrunched in anger and discomfort.

"I should really get him changed." Buffy stated, getting a waft of the unpleasant smell due to the change in direction of breeze. No wonder her youngest had been squirming so much in her arms. The normally bubbling with energy toddler had wanted to get out of her arms not to toddle around but because of his slightly dirty diaper.

"Right." Angel agreed, bending down to life the diaper bag and duffel bag to carry it up to his apartment. Buffy would see his apartment. In the year he'd been renting it, Buffy had never actually been inside it. This fact made Angel more than slightly nervous.

He hoped she'd like it, or at least tolerate it. At their previous house she'd been the main decorator. He'd even given her most of the things in the house, not that Buffy wanted or needed them. Most of the stuff, besides the kids toys and furniture were nestled and collecting dust in a storage center.

Stepping inside Buffy looked around the bleak apartment. It reminded her of his old apartment, the one he'd kept before the mansion. The rooms were sparse; the area that appeared to be the dinning room contained nothing but a lone bookshelf. The walls were all natural creamy hues, not uncommon to an apartment, and the little furniture he owned were all dark mahogany and black leather. Walking into the living room she noticed his fireplace mantle was the only place that held color. Stepping closer towards it she fingered the framed artwork of her children, and the painted hand prints Buffy had helped Jake and Isabelle make for father's day a few years back. In the center was a picture of all five of them, Rowan was only a couple weeks old, Jake was six and Isabelle was three. Picking up the frame she gently touched the once happy family. Slipping out from underneath the picture was another picture.

Putting the frame back on the mantle Buffy crouched down picking up the fallen object. It was the two of them. They were on their honeymoon. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, his smile stretching form ear to ear. The sun was just starting to set behind them, casting a various array of pinks, oranges, and yellows in the blue sky. The picture was worn, as if it was touched often.

She looked over at Angel questioningly. Angel turned away, unable to meet her gaze. Buffy did not doubt that Angel would keep pictures of his kids, but she couldn't figure out why he had a picture of them as well. Knowing her question would forever remain a mystery; Buffy slipped it back in its place behind the kids and stepped into the kitchen with the rest of her family.

Chapter Three

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