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Title: The Girl From Yesterday
Rating: PG at most
Author: Aurora
Disclaimer: Yeah right, who'd want them? The song
'The Girl From Yesterday' is by The Eagles, it's on
their 'Hell Freezes Over' Album.
Author's Notes: Post 6/3. A/C (Sorry, ack, ack, I
know)
references to B/A. This fic isn't very good, I was all
angsty and just wrote it.
Spoilers: Teacher's Pet, The Prom, Surprise
Feedback: YES!
Buffy Summers reached into the dryer. She pulled out
the last item, which was a red-and-white checked
dishcloth. She folded it and closed the dryer door.
Then she placed the dishtowel in the laundry basket
and carried the basket upstairs. As she shuffled into
her bedroom, she tripped.
"Damn it," she muttered, setting the laundry basket on
the floor. She bent down to pick up a few shirts that
had fallen out of the basket and onto the floor. Her
hand hit a book. Buffy reached down and picked up the
book. She ran a hand over the brown cover.
Sonnets from the Portuguese. The front cover was
inscribed with the word 'Always'.
~*~
"I love it," said Buffy. She opened the book and read
the inscription, then flipped through the
book."Really. It's full of fun words to learn and
say."
"Then how come you seemed more excited last year when
you got an arm in a box?"
~*~
Buffy ripped herself from her memories. She could
still feel the mansion's cold air, only slightly
warmed by the fire nearby. She could see Angel sitting
near her, his eyes full of hurt. He was so worried
that she hated her gift. Never, she could never hate
anything he gave her.
Coming back to reality, she cast the book one last
disparaging look, knowing that the poems inside were
all etched in her mind. She laughed bitterly and said,
"Trash." With perfect accuracy, she tossed the book
into her plastic trashcan.
//It wasn't really sad the way they said good-bye
Or maybe it just hurt so bad she couldn't cry
He packed his things, walked out the door and drove
away
And she became the girl from yesterday//
Buffy set the laundry basket down on the bed and stood
up. She walked towards the edge of her bed, near the
wrought-iron headboard, and lifted up the comforter.
She tossed it aside and pulled a cardboard box from
beneath the bed. The lid was covered in gray dust.
Buffy pushed the dust aside with her hand and lifted
off the lid.
A scent reached her nose, one so familiar it was
engrained in her being. It was a scent of sandalwood,
a hint of soap and cologne, and the slightest trace of
sweat. Buffy lifted up the black leather jacket that
was balled up at the top of the pile. She ran her
fingers over the cool black leather.
~*~
"You're cold."
"You can take it."
"No," said Angel, tugging at his leather jacket, "I
mean you look cold." He reached out and handed her his
jacket. Buffy grasped it in her hand and then pulled
it around her body. She felt loved, and warm, and
safe.
~*~
The leather was twisted and contorted in Buffy's hand,
as she grew angry. She felt her nail scrape through
the soft leather. Cringing inwardly, she pushed the
jacket aside and away from her body. Her hand dug
through the box for the next item and was surprised to
find Angel's "corsage" from the prom. It was all dried
up and dead, but the pin still went right through the
stem of the flower.
Buffy grasped the dead flower in her hand, feeling but
not really noticing as the pin dug into her palm and
drew blood.
// He took a plane across the sea to some foreign land
She stayed at home and tried so hard to understand
How someone who had been so close could be so far away
And she became the girl from yesterday//
~*~
"Is this really happening?" Buffy asked. She looked at
Angel, who stood like a broken, hopeless man across
from her. She wrapped her arms protectively around her
waist.
"I can't believe you're breaking up with me."
Angel didn't have to say he was sorry, it was written
all over him in the way he stood and the look in his
eyes. Buffy had to turn away so she wouldn't fall
apart.
~*~
Buffy opened her eyes and noticed the small trickle of
blood that ran from her palm and flowed down her
wrist. Numbly she fumbled for a Kleenex and wiped the
red liquid from her arm. She didn't feel the tears
that ran down her face, she only felt the stabbing
pain in her heart as it was slowly being cut out.
She reached into the box and pulled out a chain. From
the chain dangled a ring, with two hands, a heart, and
a crown. Her claddagh ring, the only gift she loved as
much as the giver. She crushed the ring in her hand
that was still bleeding. The blood covered the
engravings on the ring and colored the ring a sickly
red.
~*~
"You almost went away today."
"We both did," agreed Angel.
"AngelI feel likeif I lost you" Buffy paused and
caught her breath. "You're right, though. We can't be
sure of anything." Buffy moved her face to his and
cried silently.
"Shh. I"
Buffy looked up and into his eyes. "You what?"
"I love you."
~*~
//She doesn't know what's right
She doesn't know what's wrong
She only knows the pain that comes from waiting for so
long
And she doesn't count the teardrops
That she's cried while he's away
Because she knows deep in her heart
That he'll be back someday//
Buffy looked up finally, and was surprised that she
was sitting in her bedroom. In her mind, she could see
Angel's old apartment so clearly.
She heard the rain and watched it as it drizzled down
the window. She could feel the fabric of Angel's
sweats in her hands. She could feel his hand on her
back as he looked at the cut, his arms around her as
she cried. She was so wrapped up in him; she could
smell his scent and feel his skin, and oh god, where
had he gone? Where was her Angel now?
Coming out of her reverie, Buffy snorted. She laughed
bitterly and said, "With Cordelia."
Buffy clutched the ring tighter, then set it on her
bedside table. There wasn't much left in the box, just
a Polaroid from the Bronze junior year and a photo
from the prom.
Buffy picked up the prom photo and looked at it for a
moment. She and Angel stared at Buffy, both looking
genuinely happy- not too happy in Angel's case, but
also looking extremely sad. It was their last true
moment together, the last moment that she would be
whole. Even though the Star-Crossed/Doomed Love Saga
was over, they together.
Buffy reached up and ripped the photograph right down
the middle, forever splitting the image in half. She
crumpled her image and set Angel's aside, next to her
Claddagh ring. She put the jacket and the corsage with
the bloody pin back in the box and slid the box
beneath her bed. She stood up and sat on her bed,
looking out of the window.
So much had changed. They had agreed to keep their
distance, not to call or visit unless it was an
absolute emergency. They had two separate lives, more
separate and sterile than ever before. Buffy looked
into his eyes and saw that he was happy. His business
was doing well, he had friends he could trust, and he
was in love.
Her Angel was in love with someone that wasn't her. He
was in love with Cordelia.
He didn't tell Buffy that, but there was no hiding it
from her. Buffy knew when she looked at him. Their
eyes locked and Buffy expected electricity that made
her shake and gave her Goosebumps. Instead, she felt
nothing. The blow that came with that nothingness was
crushing.
She still loved him, would always love him. Buffy got
a raw deal, she got the short end of the stick,
whatever cliché you wanted to use, and Buffy Summers
got it. She never should have talked to him, or let
him help her, or trusted him. She never should have
loved him. But love truly IS blind, Buffy had proved
that.
Buffy wholeheartedly believed their love was forever.
Obviously, Angel didn't believe that, or at least he
didn't define the word 'forever' correctly. Because,
according to 'Angel's Handbook to Love and Lust',
forever lasts for about three years. Angel had fallen
out of love with her so easily, she often wondered if
he was over her the first day in Los Angeles or the
second.
She couldn't love Riley enough because she had loved
Angel too much with a love that was too powerful, too
needy, and too pure. And god damn it, Buffy would give
anything to have that love back to give to someone
else. But she couldn't. Love doesn't give refunds. If
only it did, a lot of people would be a lot happier.
"I hate Cordelia, damn her. What does she have that I
don't? What does Cordelia have that makes men love
her, be dedicated to her, to forget all about the girl
they left at home? Stupid bitch."
Buffy sighed and laughed bitterly at her completely
justified, if immature, outburst. She walked over to
her desk, and began looking for an envelope and stamp.
She picked up the ring, the photo, and wrote a quick
note. She shoved the three objects in the shockingly
white envelope and took it to the mailbox, flipping
the flag up.
Four days later, Angel picked up the mail Cordelia had
brought inside. He found a small white envelope with
no return address. He picked up a letter opener and
ripped the envelope open. Something clattered to the
tabletop with a metallic ring. Two pieces of paper
fluttered out and lay next to the ring.
Angel's fingers grasped the metal object. It was
Buffy's silver claddagh ring, covered in her blood. He
held it in his hand as he looked at the photograph. He
was shocked to find that it was the other half of
their prom photograph. He pushed it aside, a growing
lump in his throat. Finally, his eyes focused on the
note, which was in Buffy's handwriting.
*Maybe Cordelia will get better use out of this than I
ever did.*
Angel crumpled up the note and dumped everything into
the trashcan.
//The light's on in the window
She's waiting by the phone
Talking to a memory that's never coming home
She dreams of his returning and the things that he
might say
But she'll always be the girl from yesterday
Yes, she'll always be the girl from yesterday//
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