TITLE: Always and Forever, Love Buffy
AUTHOR: Elora
E-MAIL: jedically@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I don't even own the computer I'm writing from.
TIMELINE: Er, anywhere from mid season four and after.
SPOILERS: Nothing that I can think of...just say everything season 4 and
earlier, okay?
SYNOPSIS: Angel gets a letter. Angsty.

AUTHORS NOTES: Thanks to my betas, Ice Princess and Heather! And everyone else that offered your help, I really appreciate it! This story has probably been done a thousand times, and will probably be done a thousand more. But then, most plots have been.
DISTRIBUTION: Wherever. Just tell me, I like to keep track!
FEEDBACK: Does anyone actually say NO to this?
RATING: G, maybe PG for talking about suicide...

With trembling fingers the vampire with a soul slowly opened the envelope. He
focused his bloodshot eyes on the familiar scrawl of his beloved, barely even

noticing that she hadn't written a greeting.

Did you know I'm nothing? No, of course you didn't. Everyone thinks that I
am someone special, that I have some wonderful personality. I don't. They
think there is more to me than a quick wit and the ability to fight. They're
wrong. Those other things? That passion? That fire of love and hate? The
desire to fight? Those things aren't there anymore.

Have I ever mentioned that everything hinged on you? I can
fight on, I'm a warrior, it's what I do. But at one point, There was
more to me than that.

There isn't now.

Willow thinks you did the right thing. Every time she looks at Riley I see
it in her eyes. It's the same look she used to have when she looked at you,
before Angelus stole our innocence. After he came, I was never the same
again. And I think that's why you left. I latched on to you because around
you I had a personality. I was smart, and funny, and I had passion. I could
love and hate, and spread friendship around like a cloak. But Angelus came,
and ripped that apart. None of them ever looked at me again, and I know,
deep in their hearts, they blame me. If not for me we would still have lost
our innocence, but in less tragic ways. Not by going to school and seeing an
empty classroom where our favorite teacher once sat. Not by waking up
without your lover beside you.

Did I ever tell you about Parker? I don't think I did, but things have been
rather muddled lately.

I slept with him. Desperate to feel what you gave me, I hopped into bed with
the first boy who said I was pretty. Pretty dumb.

I suppose I've had an inferiority complex for some time now. A girl
doesn't just get over hearing what Angelus told me the morning after very easily.

I knew somewhere that it wasn't what you thought, after all you had gotten a

moment of pure happiness. But still, it lingers you know?

Parker didn't help. He told me it had just been fun, I couldn't have thought it was

serious could I? No. I asked Willow 'Is this what always happens? Sleep with a

guy and he turns all evil on you?' but somewhere down inside, I was still

thinking that Parker was right not to want me.

Do you remember when I came to LA and found you with Faith? I don't suppose
I explained what happened did I? Why it hurt me so much? Faith switched our
bodies when she woke up. No one noticed, not my friends-the only one who
did, was Willow's girlfriend who I had never met before. That hurt beyond
belief, but the killer?

Riley slept with her. In my body. When I was back to normal I thought, why
didn't he know? Angel would have known. And still that niggling little
worry, that maybe Riley hadn't noticed, because Faith was better than me and
he didn't want to admit it wasn't me.

At least I could hold on to the fact that you loved me. You would have known
if you'd seen me, and you would have helped me.

Then you chose Faith over me. I was acting irrational, but I always do when
it comes to you.

I thought of something the other day. In everyone's hearts, they have a
kitchen. A fridge and a pantry for keeping love fresh and in stock, an oven
for preparing it and dishes for serving it to others. You have a kitchen a
chef would adore, with love to spare.

I have a mini-fridge, paper plates, and a microwave. Good for reheating
leftovers, but not much else. You sent me so much love that I had enough to
share with everyone. But they all got so used to me giving your leftover
love, that when you weren't sharing anymore, my well dried up, and my
microwave is just serving old love, twice reheated and bland. They blamed
Riley at first, they thought I was giving him all my love. They didn't
realize I didn't have any fresh love, and what he had was even older than
theirs. At least what I was giving them was recycled from what I used to
give them. Riley's...Riley got what I used to share with Tyler and Pike, and
other boyfriends I had pre-you. It was the love of a child, not a woman.
Maybe that would have satisfied him, it seemed to, until he met you. I know
he felt it when you were both in my room. I've never met anyone who didn't
feel it when we were around each other. That's when he realized that the
love I gave him wasn't quite as tasty as he thought.

That analogy got kind of gross somewhere along the line didn't it?

I should probably get to the point. I'm rambling, but you know I do that
when I'm nervous. I want you to understand why I act the way I do, why I was
always so desperate to have you with me. When I felt, or thought I felt you
slipping away I was terrified that I would lose that income of love, and
everyone would hate me because I couldn't love them as much, because who can
spread love when their heart and soul is a hundred miles away?

I guess what I'm trying to say is...I can't do it anymore. I can't pretend
to be who I used to, when I'm just a shell. I can't say I love Riley, and
sleep with him all the while trying my hardest not to wish it was you beside
me. And I have to admit I fail more often then not.

So the point of this letter is goodbye I guess. Because I can't survive on
my own, friends and family be damned, none of them are you.

You'll probably feel guilty when you read this. 'I should have stayed with
her' you'll think. Finally coming around eh? Hehe. But you did what you
thought was right. I don't blame you for that, not anymore. I understand, I
even...agree, on some level. You were risking Angelus by being around me.
It's funny, you lose your soul when you're around me, I lose my soul when
you're gone (did I ever tell you that my first roommate sucked my soul out
while I was asleep? Yeah, she was a demon. I so know how you feel now).

Get to the point Buff. Finish the letter. Okay.

I love you. Every scrap of love I have left is yours. Given the option
between living a hundred years alone or dying in your arms, I choose dying.
I've got a poison that I'm about to drink. I should be fine for two and a
half hours. After that it should take about ten minutes. I'm going to take
it right after I mail this letter. Then I'm going to drive out to LA. I want
you to be the last thing I see.

Always and Forever

Love,
Buffy


Angel put down the letter, his hands shaking once more. He finished his
glass of whisky in a quick gulp. He stared out the door of his office, into
the empty lobby. His associates hadn't come back to work in several days.
He'd ordered them away, he wanted to grieve he said. Maybe they knew, maybe
they understood.

That morning he greeted the sunrise with open arms. The only reminder of a
once vibrant lover was a pile of ashes, and a tearstained letter.