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Title: Letters to You
Author: Aurora
Spoilers:??? B/A Canon
Disclaimer: Not mine. Do I look like an acid tripping
executive producer from hell? I *also* don't own the
piece of classical music mentioned in the story.
Rating: PG-13 at the least, not over R. Some language
AN: Angsty! Just a little bit. Very angry- it was late
and I had just watched 'The Prom' and 'Amends' back to
back.
Dedication: To Joss and Greenie- maybe they can come
out of their acid-induced comas long enough to wake up
and write some real episodes with actual content.
Dear Angel,
Today I was thinking about the day I died. I don't
mean the time with the Master on the night of the
Spring Fling in '97. I don't mean when I gave up my
life for Dawn's in '01. I mean the time in 1999- the
real time. The only time I ever truly died, inside and
out.
Do you remember?
I looked up at you. The air outside the burning
remains of Sunnydale High was full of acrid smoke
lined with the sweetest tinge ofscent. You stood by
that fire truck. The number is now faded from my mind,
but there were six hoses and twelve gages on the side
of that truck. I don't even have to close my eyes to
see you. You stood there with your hands at your
sides, all in black, as if you were mourning not only
for you but also for me. I stared into your eyes, and
I swear there were tears lining them. Then you turned
on your heel and walked into the smoke and away from
me.
That's when I died. My heart shattered into a million
pieces like the smallest fragments of ice. The old me,
the real me, was gone in an instant. Something came
inside my body and took it over- it was 'the New
Buffy'. It was like a demon had come into my body and
set up shop.
"The demon takes your body, but it doesn't get your
soul. That's gone."
Those were the truest words you ever spoke to me,
Angel. You were the one who received my soul, my
heart, my innocence, my virginity- everything. The
demon is denial, and pain and agony like nothing I
have ever felt. I was incomplete- I am still
incomplete, I will forever be incomplete. Without you,
I am half of me.
I thought when I died for Dawnny on that night that I
was free from it all, my love. The pain of being not
quite whole would disappear into sweet nothingness.
When I returned from the second peace I have ever
known, the only peace that did not come from lying in
your arms, I realized I wasn't living the nightmare. I
was the nightmare; I had the starring role in the
Off-Broadway drama from Hell.
I suppose my next actions were not the wisest. As if I
hadn't dirtied myself enough with Parker and Riley, I
went on to soil myself as much as possible. I did it
more than once, and relished in the only feelings it
brought me.
Disgust.
Revulsion.
Guilt.
These were the only feelings I felt when I let Spike
inside me more than once. I let him in me so many
times I believe I have lost count. Please do not turn
away as I fear you are doing now, my love. I lived in
constant self-loathing and shame.
The emotion worse than the loathing and shame my
affair with Spike caused was the guilt. I felt guilty
every moment I was with Spike- or Riley for that
matter. My heart still feels that I am cheating on
you, as if their hands touching my body do not belong
there, as if that is * your * sacred temple to
worship, not theirs.
There was a time I believe you would have been able to
relate to the feelings I am writing on here as I
listen to depressing Prokofieff on my CD Player- From
Romeo and Juliet, ballet Suite, op. 75. Do you know of
the piece I speak of? I have gotten off topic, I am
sorry.
You promised me forever.
Forever's not a very long time, is it?
I never would have believed you would quit loving me.
You made so many promises to me, and I believed them
utterly. I know of your love for Cordelia. I know you
sit there and ask yourself how I know. I felt it when
my eyes locked with yours when we met last Fall. I'm
not stupid and there is no reason to hide anything
from me.
You may know me better than I know myself, but I know
you better than anyone does. I know you better than
your lover Cordelia, your son Connor, better than
Wesley, Gunn, or Fred does.
You are a part of me, in my fabric, in my soul, and I
am sorry you are.
Perhaps if my heart, my soul, and my mind gave up on
you and eviscerated you from my system, maybe I'd know
some kind of peace.
Sincerely yours in life, death, and everything in
between
Buffy Anne Summers
*******************************************************
Dearest Buffy,
I looked up the Prokofieff piece you listened to when
you wrote my letter. I believed that only I listened
to that type of music, I suppose I am wrong. You never
cease to amaze me, Buffy. Not for an instant! I
suppose in your angst and hate ridden letter you did
not expect a reply that showered your praise.
Then that is the reply you will not get.
You will get the reply MY heart wrote, MY soul wrote,
MY EVERYTHING wrote.
First, let me voice my feelings to you about your
affair with Spike.
I need not remind you that he is evil, my love. You
know that and Xander probably reminded you of that
over and over. It could have been lust. It could have
been love. Or it could have been what you told me it
was- just a feeling. I feel betrayed. I am angry at
Spike for ignoring my mark on your neck that claimed
you as mine so long ago.
Another feeling wells in me now as I write this.
Sometimes I love you so much that I hate you.
I hate you for becoming embedded in me. You're
engrained in me. You've destroyed everything that was
ever me until all that's left are you! Every fiber,
every unneeded breath, every unwanted thought- they
belong to you. My heart is in your body, Buffy. It
beats in perfect time with yours.
The Host, a friend of mine, reads souls. When he read
mine for the first time, he said the following-
"Honey, do you have a single clue about what's going
on in there?"
"No."
"To say the least, it's not your soul. It's not
completely yours, at least the parts that count aren't
yours. They're all washed up in someone else- a girl.
A lover, a soulmate, a fellow warrior! There's no
danger of you losing your soul, Angel, because to do
that she'd lose hers as well."
Are you happy, my lover?
We're inseparable now.
We'll be like this forever.
Isn't that the whole point?
You can throw my attraction and love for Cordelia in
my face as much as you would like. Lord knows I
haven't been through enough in my life, Buffy,
especially not enough from you!
When I came home from my trip to Sri Lanka to mourn
for you, Cordelia asked me if I was okay. And I was.
Losing you didn't kill me. But part of me died and
went with you that day. I can be Cordelia's lover; I
could sleep with all of Los Angeles if I wanted to.
But those women, even if I loved them, could never and
will never be you and make me truly happy.
I suppose that is what you wanted to hear, my lover.
That what we have is forever, is for always, is until
the earth turns into a cinder and then after that.
Sincerely yours in life, death, and everything in
between
Angel
******************************************************
Angel,
I often wonder what happened to me after you left. I
know I quit being me and became what everyone else
wanted me to be. I did my best to live up to your
dreams for me, and I failed. I had the all-American
boy who could make millions of dollars, make love to
me in the Sahara, and bless me with Corn Fed children.
Can you believe I didn't want that?
I didn't want anyone to make love to me if it wasn't
you.
I didn't want children if they weren't yours.
They say growing up is about moving on, exorcising old
ghosts, and accepting the hand that fate has dealt.
I have moved on- from the good in my life.
I have exorcised some old ghosts, not just those of
Grace Newman and James Stanley.
But I refuse to accept the shitty hand I was dealt by
God, or the PTB, or whoever decides these things.
I could moan and complain and tell you how much my
life sucks, or how my calling sucks. Instead, I tell
you what really sucks.
Inside of me, I have this desire. It's a 365, 24-7
kind of deal. I've had it since I was sixteen years
old. I met a beautiful man who I fell in love with at
first sight. He revealed to me his true nature, but I
accepted everything about him. It made him more
special, so much more unique and loved in my eyes. I
forgave him for what he had done though he could not
forgive himself.
My desire is not to make love to you, though it often
does run across my mind. My desire is to encompass
you, to make you need me like I have always needed
you. I just want you, and not in a sexual way, in a
primitive and difficult to understand way.
God, or the Powers that Be, or The Oracles (yes, my
love, I remember) have screwed us over repeatedly. I
gave up our dream of us being together long ago. I
used to believe that was my destiny. It's not.
My destiny is you. Not to be with you, just you.
As one of my lovers so put it-
"You're not friends. You'll never * be friends *.
You'll be in love till it kills you both. Love isn't
brains, children. It's blood; blood screaming inside
you to work its will."
Sincerely yours in life, death, and everything in
between,
Buffy
*******************************************************
Dearest Buffy,
The last letter was a nice if somewhat odd change of
pace. Destiny. I believe in all our time together,
that was the one obstacle we could never overcome. My
soul is permanent because it is part of yours, so
there is one obstacle that we've had unknowingly
defeated for years.
I am sorry I assumed you Riley's wanted children. I
assumedyes, I assume too much. I made a lot of
decisions without you that involved you. The breakup
in the sewers was not as I had planned, and I *didn't*
break up with you because you asked for a drawer. You
asking for a drawer frightened me more than facing
down Faith and the Mayor. It told me how much you
loved me and wanted me to stay.
Naturally, I couldn't.
I don't regret leaving you that day. It was the best
decision I have ever made. I thought with my head
instead of my heart and I'm glad I did. As I walked
away from you that night, my heart screamed at me to
go back, take you in my arms and never let you go. I
barely made it to the mansion before I broke down.
I didn't leave that night, or the next night. I left
on Thursday. I spent two days going through my many
possessions and sending them to an apartment I had
picked out with help from Whistler. I also spent the
time I wasn't packing in bed, crying. Or by the
fireplace crying, or the kitchen crying, or the garden
crying.
I shed so many tears that week.
There were so many times that first year, and even
some in the second, when I just wanted to go home.
Home is Sunnydale. Home is you. I may live in a
beautiful hotel I call home, but it truly isn't my
home. This being my third year in Los Angeles, I have
adapted to being around humans all of the time.
Gunn, Fred, and I play PlayStation games on that
horrendous Nintendo device. The only thing I win at is
the violent games. I can't, for the life of me, drive
that animated car. I order Chinese food and pizza,
watch talk shows and golf, and can now crochet.
But in my mind, at night when I dream, I dream of you
and I in a beautiful hall. We're alone, and we're
dancing. The music is there, but I can barely hear it.
We don't speak, although I could never forget the
sound of your voice. You and I just dance slowly and
beautifully with the love, we still hold for one
another.
As I lean in to kiss you, the dream ends.
Sincerely yours in life, death, and everything in
between
Angel
*******************************************************
My Angel,
I read your letter only once. I then folded it up and
put it in my diary. The part I love most of all is the
paragraph about dancing. I have had that same dream.
This will be my final letter to you, and I will
explain why.
I love you.
That's why it will be my final letter. I used to wish
that I didn't love you anymore, because then I
wouldn't hurt so much. But now I can't imagine not
loving you. Even in those bleak months when I returned
from heaven, I loved you when I felt nothing. Loving
you makes me live, makes me who I am.
I loved you the first time I saw you in that dark
alley behind the Bronze. You looked at me and beneath
that cryptic casing was a fragile and loving soul. It
belonged to you, my knight in the dented armor. I know
every dent, I have memorized them, and I can feel them
beneath my fingers. I love every dent, every inch of
skin, everything about you. I even love the demon.
I loved you when you were Angelus.
I loved you when you left me, when you took back the
forgotten day, and when I jumped off that tower to
save the world.
As hard as I have tried to seal everything about you
away in a box labeled 'Angel', I would seal away part
of myself as well as the past. There's not a day in
the last five years I haven't thought about you.
The more we try to forget, the more we succeed in
blurring the details in our minds. We bury our
feelings deeper and deeper until we're positive we've
buried them all. But you never *really* forget, you
never really move on. Once you've had true love, how
can you forget so easily?
Time doesn't erase things. People do.
We could not see each other for the next fifty years
(though I doubt I will live to see seventy-one) and
meet up one day. The same feelings would be there,
they never really die. That's why we *don't* see each
other. We break down all of our walls and get lost in
the tidal wave of emotion that we tried to bury and we
realize all I work was in vain. It's not that we don't
live in each other's lives anymore. That's true- but
you're always in the back of my mind whether I realize
it or not.
I didn't know it was possible to die piece by piece. I
HAVE been dying piece by piece since I was just a kid.
It's like a puzzle that once fit, but now it's
mutilated and torn from overuse so the pieces no
longer fit. Loving you is slowly taking me away, but I
love you none the less.
Buffy
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