Shattered Fairytale

Chapter Three
**

You can take the darkness from the pit of the night,
and turn it to a beacon burning endlessly bright
I gotta follow it, cause everything I know
well It's nothing till I give it to you... -Air Supply

How about the park?" Angel suggested, patting his oldest son's knee. There were still a couple extra hours before it would turn dark and Angel wanted to make the most of his time with his kids, after all he only had them every other weekend and select holidays.

Jacob shrugged, not turning his attention away from the blank television screen.

"Park! Park!" Isabelle enthusiastically yelled, jumping up and down in her spot adjacent to her father. Her blonde hair floating up and down with each hop she took, her legs kicking back.

Rowan bounced along as he sat on top of Angel's legs, as Rowan clapped his hands together, "Paw, paw!" He squealed mimicking his older sister.

"What do you say, champ?" Angel asked Jacob.

"I don't feel like it." He answered curtly, his arms crossed across his chest, his face still looking forward.

Jake had that same stubborn expression his wife- ex-wife now Angel corrected, displayed. He had that same defiant look in his eyes. Jacob might have closely resembled Angel in appearance but that was where it ended, in every other aspect he was quite like his mother. Which only served to fuel Angel's love for his son.

"You could show me how you scored that winning goal." Angel added, knowing how much his son loved soccer. There was nothing Jake wouldn't do just for the opportunity to kick around the soccer ball.

Jacob shrugged, the corners of his lips curling down, "I don't think I wanna play anymore."

Angel's heart stopped beating, the knife cut through his chest slowly grinding into his bone to cut out his dead heart. Jacob's old room had been decorated with an entire soccer theme. He had a soccer lamp, a grass field border, and white and black-checkered bed cover. His soccer ribbons had been displayed on the wall. Soccer had been the boy's life.

"Why?"

"It's a stupid game." Jake answered, sliding off the couch escaping from his father's prodding. Walking into the next room he grabbed his flip-flops and put them on. "We can go to the park, Ellie wants to."

Angel saw the pain and hurt in his son's eyes, and knew he was at least partly to blame. If he hadn't of called Carrie, if he hadn't of lost track of time, if he hadn't missed his son's last soccer game of the season- a game he promised his son he'd go to. If Angel hadn't of broken his promise. It seemed these days that were the only thing he was good for- broken promises.

He'd let his son down. He'd let Buffy down. Angel was glad for the pain he felt, he was glad his son loathed him at the present time- he deserved it. Angel understood he was a monster, that he should not be given the chance at happiness, parts of him still could not grasp why he'd even been given that chance years ago. It wasn't fair on his family though; they were innocents in all his evil. They'd never done a thing wrong.

If Angel was a stronger man he'd do the right thing and leave, let them get on with their life without him- but he wasn't strong. Not anymore. He needed them too much, and he was selfish, he put his needs first. They didn't deserve to suffer. They were just innocents.

As soon as Jake had gotten both flip-flops on he walked out of the apartment, not bothering to wait for the rest of his family or for his dad to respond. He just walked out- like his father had done just over a year ago.

"Why's Jake mad?" Isabelle asked, her feet bouncing up and down as her father tried to tie her shoelaces. "Cause of yesterday?" She finished referring to her brother's soccer game.

Angel said nothing, just focused on tying the laces. He grabbed her ankle roughly; stopping her bouncing, "Hold still." He bit out, instantly regretting his tone and action as soon as he'd said and done it.

Isabelle's eyes filled with tears, her lower lip quivering slightly as she tried to hold back her tears. "I want Mommy." She choked out, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I'm so sorry baby," Angel apologized, his features instantly softening as he attempted to hold her in her arms.

Balling her self up on the couch, she pushed her father away, "I want Mommy." She repeated with more force, tears beginning to fall. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" She yelled through tears.

He hadn't meant to hurt her; he hadn't meant to use that tone. He was frustrated and angry with himself over the whole Jake incident, and Isabelle, the little ball of energy was bouncing up and down making it all but possible to tie her shoelaces. He just wanted her to hold still. For a four year old she caught on quickly, hearing her bring up yesterday Angel just snapped. He hadn't meant for it to happen, but his nerves had been dwindling down and he just snapped. He hadn't meant to hurt her; he never wanted to hurt her. Angel would die before he'd let anyone or anything hurt her... and he just did.

Rowan hearing his sister's crying screams pulled him self up onto the couch, handing her his pacifier, "No cwy," He stated rubbing her hair with his balmy palms.

Isabelle swatted her younger brother and his pacifier away from her face as she continued to yell for her mother.

Angel ran out of the apartment to grab his son who was perched on the floor by the elevator. With his son now safely inside of the apartment with orders to go to his room and watch Rowan, Angel was free to deal with his crying daughter. All thoughts of a pleasant evening in the park gone.

**

In her room, Buffy was taking her time. Having already shaved her legs and washed up, Buffy just soaked in the tub, all the suds having vanished and the water now starting to cool. But she did not get out, just let the cold water wash over as she reveled in the sensations it caused as it hit her skin. It reminded her of Angel’s old, and comforting touch- his pre-human touch.

John had called yesterday and much to Buffy’s shock she found herself agreeing to go out with him. The even more surprising thing came at the end of the night when Buffy realized she’d had a genuinely nice time and agreed to go out with him again, tonight.

Two days ago, Buffy couldn’t have imagined this sort of thing happening to her, nor could she imagine feeling this way about anyone, other than Angel that is. Her life did not allow for such things, and it as easy as it was to blame the kids or her responsibilities both at work and in home for this there was more. It was also who she’d become after the divorce, after that fateful day. It’d taken a toll on Buffy whether she cared to admit it or not.

Yes, she’d obviously felt betrayed and angry with Angel everyone could understand those feelings. But being left for someone else carried out other inferences as well. Angel had rejected their life together, their family, a devastating blow to her not only as a mother and wife, but also as a woman.

Even if he hadn’t planned on falling in love, or lust, what ever you wanted to call it with that other woman, Angel had still made conscious decisions along the way, knowing full well of their consequences. He had to have thought of what he was doing at some point in time, he had to have thought about the possibilities when he started sleeping with that other woman. Which in that case, not only was Angel rejecting Buffy, but he was also telling her that the other woman was better than her, and that Buffy was not even worth the time or effort that it would take to fix whatever she was doing wrong.

How was Buffy supposed to feel about that? She was tired of listening to people tell her it was not her fault, the fact of the matter was it still had an impact on how Buffy felt about herself. The fact that it all came from Angel heightened her pain.

But last night she’d truly had a wonderful time. They hadn’t gone out; instead John opted to cook at his place. He’d roast chicken with vegetables served with white wine, not Buffy’s favorite but she couldn’t turn him down, and for dessert they’d shared chocolate mousse, strawberries, and champagne. He was surprisingly a wonderful cook, and his apartment was nicely decorated, his furnishing reminding Buffy of a summer beach house or at least half of the pages in the new Pottery Barn catalog.

After dinner he’d started a fire, not that it was cold outside in fact it was just the opposite, but sitting next to him on the couch the fire crackling softly casting shadows across his walls, Buffy did not mind one bit about the extra heat. They’d talk for hours about anything and everything. She shared about her kids, who John was anxious to meet. She shared parts of her history- leaving out everything demon related, and the fact she’d managed to burn down both of her high schools. The one thing that the two did manage to steer clear of was Angel, to which Buffy was eternally grateful.

Finally managing to step out of the bathtub, the water now cold and starting to turn a different hue, Buffy wrapped her wet body in a fluffy towel, patting herself dry as she made her way back into her bedroom to get ready for her evening with John.

Pulling out a lacy bra and underwear set she put the garments on, letting the towel that’d previously been wrapped around her fall to the floor. She rummaged through boxes of clothes she’d never gotten around to putting away, as she tried to find the perfect outfit.

Buffy could not remember the last time she’d been so nervous about what to wear. Over her years with Angel it had become a mute point. He’d seen everything she owned, he did not care what she wore. And now, she felt as if she had someone to impress again. She’d forgotten how nerve wracking it all could be.

They were going out tonight, although he wouldn’t say where he’d just said to dress casual. About one hundred outfits later Buffy had decided on a Marc Jacob’s cream fitted blazer, with a pair of dark washed denim boot cut jeans. She topped it off with a turquoise bead necklace that hung half way down her chest and a pair of gold hoop earning, and a pair of stiletto heels. She admired herself in the mirror, seeing a glimpse of the old Buffy in her tonight. She’d regained some of her glow.

After blow drying and curling her hair Buffy quickly applied her make up, keeping it fresh and natural with earth tone hues. She’d managed to finish with just enough time to make it over to John’s without being late. Grabbing her purse, keys, and cell phone Buffy ran out the door as best she could in her slinky shoes. After not wearing them in over a year she’d lost practice.

In the car Buffy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in sync with Madonna’s old songs, she was in an ‘80’s music kind of mood. Not having been in that type of mood in awhile, Buffy was happy. She was happy- the thought dawned on her. This was the first time she’d been happy since her and Angel split. Could that mean she was finally moving on?

Buffy never got the chance to finish her thoughts. She saw the lights coming straight forward as she made her way through the intersection. She heard the loud beeping sound and tires screeching as the car made it’s best attempt to swerve out of the way. She turned her head, staring in horror as the other SUV came rushing for her. Heard the metals smash together. Felt her body get thrown back and forth in her seat, felt as her head rammed into the steering wheel. Heard the airbag whizzing from its confines. Saw her world fade to black.

**

Angel with children in tow rushed into the emergency room. He’d only just gotten a message, a vague and unclear message from Willow. The only thing he knew at the moment was Buffy was in the hospital and that was enough to send him spiraling into an abyss of terror.

Pushing him self past a bunch of questioning orderlies, Angel rushed through the double doors ready to find his mate. Each second that flew by Angel found his nerves unraveling more and more. His soul would not be put to ease till her saw her, till he knew that she was okay.

Isabelle and Jake ran as fast as they could trying to keep up with the father, still unsure of what was going on, Angel having not told them anything besides that they were to get in the car and keep up with him. Rowan sat silent in his father’s arm taking in his surroundings, him to knowing something was wrong by his father’s actions.

Buffy hated hospitals, if she were here, Angel knew, that it had to be something serious. He also knew that he wouldn’t lose her again. He vowed to whatever higher power was listening to him that he would do everything and anything to make up for his past. He would not lose her.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks. A couple feet in front of him was the entire Scooby gang as well as Buffy’s parents. Joyce sat on an evergreen chair; her head bowed down so Angel couldn’t read the expression on her face. Giles was talking to a doctor; again his back was to Angel so he couldn’t see his face. Xander, Willow, and Dawn all sat close by doing their best to eavesdrop on the conversation, wanting to know Buffy’s status. Anya was asleep on a couch a few feet away, her feet propped up on a table, and Tara was sitting next to Joyce, her arms hugging the older woman.

There’d been a point in time where Angel had felt he’d been a part of that little group. Now, he was just an outsider looking in. Had this been any other occasion Angel would have walked away, but today, right now he barged over, Jake and Isabelle running to their grandmother hugging on to her tightly. Angel with Rowan still in his arms marched straight over to the doctor demanding to know what happened.

Seeing Giles about to interject Angel glared at the younger man, “I’m her husband, please tell me what happened.” Angel stated again to the doctor.

The doctor took a nervous gulp; uncomfortable with the way the new man was glaring at him, and with such intensity. “I’m sorry, y-your wi-ife-s-s b-been in-n a-a c-ca-car acci-d-dent.” He finally managed to stutter out.

“Is she okay?” Angel demanded, never taking his eyes of the doctor, never blinking.

“I’m s-sorry,” He stuttered again, fiddling with the clipboard he held in his hand. This was always the hardest part of the job, when people like Angel came around it only made it harder because now the doctor had to fear for his life too. “S-she’s in a-a c-coma.”

Angel stood unmoving, lost in his thoughts. He was not sure whether to be relieved or angry at the news. He knew the chances of surviving a coma; they were slim to none, especially the longer you stayed in one. If Buffy did happen to awaken there was no telling if she’d ever regain full control over her body and functions. At the same time, Angel still had that hope, that chance that she would wake up one day. She wasn’t dead.

The rest of the doctor’s words were lost on Angel, he hadn’t heard any of it. His world rushed by him at a dizzying speed. The only thing he could concentrate on was the thought that he would not lose Buffy. Not again.

The past year and a couple of weeks hit Angel hard. His actions hit Angel hard. If it hadn’t been for his own selfish needs he could have spent the past year with Buffy in his arms. All he could think of was it wasn’t worth it. Carrie wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t Buffy. He would not lose Buffy. Not again.

He felt a tug at his pants drawing him out of shell. Looking down Jake stared up at his father with wide teary eyes. “Is Mommy gonna die?”

Giles took Rowan from Angel’s arms, neither grown ups exchanging conversation as he did so. Angel, crouching down to scoop up his seven year old smoothed back his shaggy brown hair. “No, Mommy’s not going to die.” Angel reassured his son, reassured his self.

“Promise?” Jake asked, his eyes wide and innocent, Angel could see a fresh batch of tears that threatened to fall. His son looked smaller than he was. He looked more fragile, his tough guy exterior crumbling before his father.

“Promise.” Angel answered back, praying to whoever deemed him worthy enough that he’d be able to keep this promise to his son.

TBC...

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