[Reviews - 104]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2171 times

- Text Size +




Chapter 21: ‘Rockin’ The Boat’


Angel, for once, did not work, travel or avoid Buffy on the weekend. They actually went out to that nice restaurant, up the coast, that she loved so. The Grotto was it’s name.

Buffy was pretty impressed with Angel, actually, he was more attentive then he’d been in months; taking time to open doors for her, seat her himself instead of allowing the Maitre’d to do it. He actually ‘listened’ to her for once, seemingly enjoying even her political debates with him and everything.

She couldn’t have been more surprised and enjoyed the ‘old Angel’ immensely. Even so, thoughts of William crept into her mind from time to time, stealing up on her at the oddest moments.

After a lovely weekend with her husband, Buffy was more determined then ever to try and fix their marriage, hoping against hope that when it was time to let Will go, he’d accept graciously and just ‘go.’

“Yeah,” she mused, “that’s gonna’ happen.”

On a whim, she picked up the nearest phone in the house and said in her best ‘valley girl voice’ to no one, of course: “hello, Hell? This is Buffy, heard the temperature’s dropped to 30 below down there.”

It was Monday, Angel had left for work just about an hour before and she decided to take advantage of the gorgeous Sunnydale, CA morning. She jumped into her Camaro and headed out to the beach, just to walk along the pier and maybe have a soda or something.

When she got to the almost empty beach parking lot, she realized that it was only the start of June and the local kids were still in school. Of course other folks, working ones, were where they were supposed to be, at work.

“No wonder I’m so out of it,” she sighed sadly, “I don’t have kids, don’t work. God, I don’t ‘do’ much of anything, do I?”

Buffy had forgotten to turn off her cell phone and the annoying little tune that Angel had programmed for her sounded shrilly. She reluctantly answered, thinking it might be her husband, but it wasn’t, it was William.

“Hi,” he said simply. “Hi, Will,” she answered rather at a loss for anything to say.

“Whatcha’ doin’ Princess?” he asked warmly.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly; she so did not need William showing up right about now to ‘see her.’

“I hear the ocean, luv. Unless you’re watching a Jacques Cousteau special, I’m guessing you’re at the seaside, right?”

She nodded, absently, which was pretty dense, really, unless he could actually ‘see’ through the phone lines. Which, she was pretty sure even ‘he’ couldn’t do that.

Before he could offer to meet her, she blurted, “I’m meeting someone for a late breakfast!”

The other end of the line went deadly silent then he asked, evenly, “who?”

Buffy scrambled about in her mind to come up with someone, fast, someone acceptable to him.

“Willow!” she shouted a bit too loudly, “I’m having breakfast/lunch, I mean, a late breakfast/early lunch with Willow. She’s off of work today, so we’re meeting up. Never see her too much anymore, you know, since Tara came along and all.”

William seemed to buy this explaination, surprisingly. “Have fun, then, luv,” he told her softly, then asked about this coming Thursday.

“Yeah,” she stammered, relieved that he bought her story, “we’ll work something out, kay, Will? I’ll call you Wednesday and make plans.”

This seemed to placate him and he said tenderly, “I miss you Buffy.”

She really went into panic mode at that and shouted, “the line’s breaking up, I have to go. Call you Wednesday.” Buffy clicked off the phone and tossed it back into her large tote bag. “Oh, shit,” she muttered in exasperation as she pulled the darn thing out again.

Dialing Willow’s home number quickly, she thought to herself, “I hope Wills is really off today and can meet me here, like now. I just can’t tell big ‘lies’ to William.” Too much duplicity, even in Buffy Travers screwed up life, had it’s limits.

On Tuesday morning, before he left for work, Angel mentioned going to the Country Club for dinner on Friday night, just the two of them. No other couples, no business meeting crap, just them out for dinner and maybe a dance or two.

Then, he had added that maybe they could run up to his Dad’s cabin at the lake early on Saturday morning.

“Stay until Sunday night, you know. What do you say, babe?” he asked. Buffy quickly agreed to it, happy that Angel seemed to be really trying to make time for her and their marriage. Although it was only Tuesday, she began to plan what she would wear, what time they’d go, what they would take on their getaway, etc. She found herself actually getting excited about a simple night out with her husband and a long put off trip to the lake.

Tuesday night went well for Angel and Buffy. They ate dinner, laughed a bit, had some wine. It reminded her of the old days when they were first married and she felt more confident that they could fix their problems, despite all of the obstacles that surrounded them. Around 10:30 PM, while they lay in bed, snuggled together, just talking, for now, Angel got a call on his private line.

“Yeah,” he answered, curtly, clearly perturbed to be bothered while he was conversing with his wife. “Dawn, for God’s sake, calm down,” she heard him mutter, sternly. “Yes, I get it, I know, yes. We’ll talk tomorrow morning, now just stay away from mom and go to bed!”

Buffy looked at him, “what’s wrong with Dawn?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“Oh, nothing,” he responded off handedly, “I’ll talk to Dawnie tomorrow and then you and I will discuss it. She’s not even eighteen yet, you know? She’s being a little bitch, typical really.” Well, yes, Dawn could be a bitch, a real big one, but for some reason her husband’s statement about his sister bothered her.

The next morning, Buffy and Angel sat at the breakfast table. He had talked to Dawn a little earlier on the phone and seemed unusually quieter then he’d been in days.

“Angel, is Dawn alright?” she asked carefully.

“Oh, her and mom are at each other’s throats again,” he answered in frustration. “Dawnie wants to go to Dad’s, down in LA for a while, just til’ things cool off here at home.”

Buffy felt an uneasy feeling begin in the pit of her stomach and make it’s way up into her throat.

“Well,” she said slowly, “maybe that would be good, for a while anyway, don’t you think?”

Angel nodded his head then cleared his throat, “thing is Buff,” he stammered, “Dawnie wants me to take her there, tonight, actually."

She glanced up at him, he seemed concerned enough, earnest enough, “well, maybe you should take her, Angel. You could go, drop her off and head right back home?” she offered, hopefully, not wanting to ‘rock the boat.’

“It’s not that simple, babe,” he responded, concentrating on his oatmeal, “I think maybe ‘we’ better go with Dawnie, stay a few days and kind of smooth the waves down there for her. With Dad and all.”

He looked at her, trying to read her expression, she could tell. “Oh,” she whispered, not looking at him.

“I mean,” he continued, “I have business I can handle in LA; you can shop in the big city. I’ll swing some clubs with Dad this weekend. It could be kind of fun, don’t you think, Buff?”

She felt a small wave of outrage begin to flow up into her throat; her husband was well aware of how uncomfortable she was with Frank Travers.

“Can’t you just drop Dawn off, Angel?” she asked, “I mean, you know how your Dad feels about me? He can’t stand me.”

Angel slammed his spoon down on the table, startling her and causing her to jump. “You know, Buffy,” he said harshly, his face hard, “I’m a little tired of this ‘poor me’ crap with you. My father does not hate you, period.”

Buffy felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and thought ‘to hell with rockin’ the boat!’ “You know what?” she hissed back, “you’re right. Your ‘Daddy’ doesn’t hate me; I don’t exist to him. In fact, I don’t register on the Frank Travers’ radar screen, at all!”

He didn’t have a retort for that, she noticed, at least not for about a minute or two.

“Well,” he started slowly, measuring the words of his reply, “you certainly were not my folks first choice in a wife for me, Buff. That’s not really big news. But, they have come to grips with our marriage, at least. After all, you weren’t the #1 deb of Sunnydale they hoped I’d marry, now were you?”

Buffy wanted to slap him! Just reach over the table and knock the smug shit eating grin right off of his face.

“They’ve come to grips with our marriage!” she cried out, stunned by his audacity. “How ‘diplomatic’ of your ‘folks’ that is,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Buffy,” he sighed, “you have to get over the fact that you just came from the wrong side of the tracks and ‘made’ real good. Get over it! I have!”

This was a direct order, she could tell and it rankled more then any of the bull he’d spouted off a few moments before.

“You pompous ass!” she hissed at her husband. “Get over this. I’m not going to LA with you and Dawn. Not to your dad’s, where I’m treated like a social disease by him and his latest mistress or looked down her lousy nose job by your brat of a sister, Dawnie dearest!”

Angel looked at her in disbelief. Almost as if someone had told him that his father, Frank Travers, had voted a straight Democratic ticket in the last State election!

“You have to go, Buffy,” he said through clenched teeth. “Like I said, you can go shopping in some ‘real’ stores, take Dawnie to Rodeo Drive. We’ll catch a play at the Schubert, but you ‘are’ going. End of conversation.”

Buffy threw her nice, cloth napkin down on the table and stormed out of the kitchen into the dining room. There she ran smack dab into a red faced Maggie, who apparently had heard some of the conversation in the kitchen.

Without so much as a how do you do, Maggie whispered conspiratorily to Buffy, “stand your ground, maam,” then slipped back into another room.

“Oh, I’ll stand my ground, alright,” Buffy mumbled harshly.

Buffy felt Angel enter the living room, about thirty minutes after she had plopped down on the expensive sofa in there.

“Buffy,” he called to her, calmly enough, “I’m packed and ready to go. You go upstairs and pack yourself a small bag, quickly. We need to pick Dawnie up in less then a half hour.”

As if he had to rub her nose in it, Angel sat his large Armani overnight bag down next to the sofa. She didn’t answer him, just continued to flip through some stupid magazine she’d found on the coffee table.

“Buffy,” he sighed, the growing agitation in his voice was more apparent, “go upstairs and get packed. We’re leaving, now.”

With a firm shake of her head ‘NO’ Buffy tossed the magazine back on the table.

“Buffy,” he muttered impatiently, “you are ‘my wife’ and you are going with me to my Fathers. It’s not real becoming of you to disrespect me or my Dad this way, babe. You know better then this. Family comes first with us Travers and if this is about the damn lake thing. We’ll go another time!”

Again, Buffy could just stare at him in shocked disbelief. “Not becoming of me?” she gasped wide-eyed. “Disrespectful of you, and your Dad? Oh that is rich!” she chuckled. “When has your father ever respected me or mine, Angel? And apparently, the apple of disrespect does not fall far from the tree! And family first, honey! Oh pulease!”

Angel gave her that ‘now what the hell does that mean?’ look of his.

She stood up, turned her back to him and laughed loudly, “let’s talk ‘disrespect’ shall we Angel?” He swore softly but she didn’t let it stop her; she was on a roll.

“Your Sainted Father, Frank Travers, moves to LA and proceeds to take up with every kind of bimbo the city has to offer. Is that respecting your mother, Angel?” She was looking at him with what she was sure was a very smug expression on her face.

“Oh, and,” she continued, “how about you guys, you and darling little Dawnie? You run off to Daddy every time things get a bit rough around here for both of you. A man who couldn’t even stick around long enough to actually help ‘raise’ his daughter? But keeps his wife tied to him legally in a sham of a marriage? Talk about a slap in the face to your own mother!”

It was Angel’s turn to look smug, “just because your own mother jumped the marriage ship the minute things got rough, Buffy. I wouldn’t throw stones if I were you.”

Buffy strode closer to Angel, “do not even go there, Angel Travers,” she hissed at him. “Just because my mother had the guts and the self esteem to divorce my dad when she caught him screwing around on her; and yours didn’t? Don’t push me, or this matter Angel. Not if you know what’s good for you!”

By this time, Buffy and Angel were practically circling each other; like a couple of predatory wolves in the wild. It was kind of ironic really, because something that Angel may have forgotten, or never knew at all? In nature, it’s the ‘Alpha Female’ wolf that rules the pack.

“I’m not going, Angel,” Buffy confirmed with a growl, “that’s final. You go, run your brat little sister down to Daddy’s in LA. Go kiss his and his most recent bimbette’s butt while you’re down there, too. You know the one he’s shacking up with now? What’s her name? Sushimi, Tofutti? I can’t keep track of them anymore.”

Angel looked like he could commit murder right about now, but Buffy would not back down from this, not this time. “You know Buff,” he snapped back at her, snidely, “you better get to a doctor, I think you might be going through early menopause or something. You’re acting like a real whack job lately and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why!”

He finished his remarks in a high pitched yell that could probably be heard in the next county, or at least the next block. However, Buffy was past caring anymore. At least for now.

“Oh, that’s right,” she hissed in response, “blame my being opinionated or outspoken on some female hormonal thing! That’s so like you Travers men, isn’t it? A woman actually speaks up for herself, or shares her true feelings and you guys go all Neandrathal on us and think we’re having female problems! Geez! I give up!” she shouted and stormed past him in a huff.

Angel grabbed her arm, non too gently, “you never complained about me or our marriage before, Buffy,” he glared down at her, “not like this, anyway.” The loudness in his voice had lessened, thankfully, so she decided to follow his suit and try to calm herself down a bit.

“No, Angel,” she began evenly but with a glare to match his, “but I should have complained before this, long before this.”

Angel seemed to ponder this last statement, briefly and let go of her arm. With a shrug, he turned around and grabbed his lone suitcase from next to the living room couch.

“What are you going to do with yourself while I’m gone to kill time, Buff? Get another pedicure, or two? Or three?” His voice was quiet, but his tone was downright snarky.

“I’m probably going to have dinner with Willow and Tara, hang with them for a day or two,” she mumbled softly, not even looking at him. “I don’t know, but probably that, anyway.”

He sighed loudly, “you sure spend a lot of time with those two…..I’m beginning to get concerned, Buff, you know?”

If looks could kill, Angel Travers would be struck dead, instantly, right where he stood.

“How dare you!” Buffy hissed as she closed the gap between them. “How dare you even imply anything like that about me and my good friends!” She was livid and stood up to her full 5’2” heigth until their faces were just inches apart from each other.

“Willow and Tara are in love with each other. They have a mutually respectful relationship and are equal partners. Something sadly missing from most of the other marriages, relationships and situations going on in this one horse town!”

To his credit, Angel ‘did’ look ashamed of himself. The truth was, Buffy had no intention of doing ‘anything’ while he was gone, except maybe catch up on some reading, alone; and definitely doing a lot of thinking, alone.

“Just go, Angel,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just go pick up your sister and get the hell out of here. I can’t take your presence right now, not anywhere near me. Besides, you’re already fifteen minutes late to your mom’s aren’t you? I’m sure Dawnie dearest has already upped the whine level to a ‘red alert’ and may even be heading into hysterics by now. Frankly,” she added, “I don’t want poor Helen to have to deal with it.”

By this time, Buffy’s back was turned to Angel so she couldn’t see his expression, nor did she really care to.

“Okay, babe,” he sighed in resignation, “I’ll see you in a few days. Be careful, okay?” She just nodded and didn’t look around until she heard the front door close behind him.

Buffy lay on her bed and just stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. It seemed that she had been doing a lot of this kind of thing lately and she still hadn’t solved any of her problems, not really.

In her heart, she knew she needed to be truly alone for the next few days, so she again gave Maggie and Jenny the rest of the week and weekend off. It was the least she could do, they did have to listen to all the crap that went on earlier and if Buffy wasn’t still so damn mad, she’d be respectfully embarrassed. Next she had to get in contact with William and officially cancel tomorrow night with him.

“It’s not like I’ll be actually lying,” she assured herself, “I’ll just tell William that Angel cancelled his regular golf game and I can’t meet him.”

It wasn’t too far from the truth, Angel did have to cancel his Thursday night golf game, even if it was to go to LA for a few days. William didn’t have to know about that part.

When she called William on his cell phone, she knew he sounded dissapointed and thought he sounded sceptical about her excuse. He seemed to accept her explaination, again, and she dismissed her doubts as paranoia. That night, for supper, she opened a can of Star Kist Tuna toasted some bread and ate all alone.

She’d TIVO’d today’s episode of All My Children and intended on watching the latest escapades of Erica and Kendall Kain, all by herself, tonight in bed.

“What fun,” she mused, sardonically, as she lay down on her comfy bed after a nice warm soak in the tub. Switching on the TV, she input the taped TIVO numbers and proceeded to watch Kendall try and seduce Ryan Lavery for the umpteenth time in forty-eight hours.

“What a bitch!” she chuckled about Kendall. The next morning, she woke up with the TV still on, some innane infomercial rambling on about weight loss or something.

About 8:00 AM, her phone rang and she picked it up promptly, almost afraid it was Angel this time. It was, unfortunately.

“Hi, babe,” he said, like nothing at all had happened the day before and all was well on the Travers’ home front.

“Hi, Angel,” she responded curtly, “what’s up?” The silence was deafening but he finally explained why he had called.

“I’m down in LA, at Dad’s,” he mumbled, “I need you to do me a favor, okay Buffy?”

She didn’t respond and apparently Angel took this as a ‘yes.’

“I need you to give Spike Giles an envelope, tonight. He’ll be there, at the house this evening, around 7ish. I owe him the money, Buff, need you to do this for me.” He repeated the request so quickly, that Buffy barely could respond.

“What!” she gasped, “Spike! Here!”

Angel didn’t let her go on, “yes, Buffy. I know you hate the guy, but I don’t want to look like a welch and Spike doesn’t ‘mind’ stopping by to pick it up. You gotta’ do this, babe. He’ll just stop by and get it, then leave. No worries, honest. Why not just tape it to the front door and run off somewhere?”

Buffy’s mind was a mass of swirling thoughts and she was getting quite dizzy from them. Angel would not take no for an answer. William would be by around 7:00 PM to ‘pick up’ some damn money her husband owed him. Therefore, Will knew that Angel was gone, therefore, he knew that she, Buffy was all alone, at least for the night.

Briefly, she wondered why Angel owed William money, but decided that was the least of her problems. Angel, the son of a bitch, must have called William the minute he hit LA, or before, and arranged this little transaction.

“Probably hubby’s way of getting back at me for not going with him. He would think of something like this, especially still believing that I detest William so much! The mind game playing SOB!”

She was just livid, more because William had caught her in a lie then actually ‘seeing’ him, here at her own home.

At about 6:45 PM, that night, Buffy stuffed the right amount of cash into an envelope, taped it on the front door and grabbed her purse to make her escape from the house.

“Better to face William later,” she surmised, “when I can come up with a good cover for myself.”

Assured that this was the best course of action, Buffy opened her front door to make her escape to her Camaro; only to run smack into William standing there, black duster and all. And, boy, judging by the look on his face; was he pissed!

“Going somewhere, Princess?” he asked casually.


A/N: Can you believe I almost wrote this as one chapter with the previous one? Yikes! Lots of Spuffy in the next chapters and I might try and explain just what was going on in Buffy’s mind that night in HS. I might save it til’ later though, like I originally planned.

Thanks, Luv, Spuf





You must login (register) to review.