I'm in her room when I notice the envelope.

I've been spending a lot of time in here lately. No one seems to notice, so I slip in every morning, as the sun streaks the morning sky, and I lie on her bed. It still smells like her, because she hadn't gotten around to washing the sheets in a while. That hint of vanilla- that was my sister. She loved girly perfumes. It used to make me laugh when I'd watch her gathering weapons in her room, pulling on her leather clothes and then she'd take a moment to spritz herself with fragrance. The bottle is sitting on the dresser. I think I see a faint smudgy fingerprint on it sometimes… but it might just be the light.

It's when I'm trying to figure out whether or not it's her mark- on the glass of the perfume- that I see the envelope. It's long, white, and has her looping script on the front. Squinting, I get up and take it in my hands, reading it.

"For Angel"

I touch the black letters with shaking fingers and sit down with a thud. The bedsprings lightly back underneath me, and I wonder when she wrote this. When she first knew what was going to happen. I know my sister. She may have been impulsive- but she had inklings- prophecies- she always did.

Trembling slightly, I think about what to do. Should I mail it? What would she have wanted? I remember how she used to cry over Angel. I recall the way she looked when she came back that summer she ran away. Her eyes had a haunted look… they were big and purple and hollow. She was never the same after that. I used to think that whatever happened that summer was the moment my sister got old.

But Angel came back. From where-ever he had been. I loved him so I was happy to see him. He was like a big brother. He could make Buffy sad- but for some reason, he always made her smile the most as well. So I figured what they had was good. I used to dream about having it as well. I used to think that someday I wanted to find someone who loved me like he loved her.

But then he left again. And he didn't come back. Buffy got older as the time passed. Riley came and went to... But he didn't seem to touch her. It was Angel who changed my sister- who made her who she was. And now, holding this letter she wrote to him, I don't know what to do. Except give it to him.

~~~

The bus smells. I shift in my seat and look out the window at the blur of houses, as they blend and melt into greens and yellows and blues. The highway is like a long grey ribbon- stretching into the sun itself. I hate the coast road. I always did- even as a kid. When we drove down here from LA, I asked Mommy if there was a chance the car could go into the ocean. She didn't laugh, just said of course not… and pointed to the guard rails.

Sometimes I wish now we had crashed into the sea that day. That we had all drowned together… instead of all these little deaths along the way. And now I'm the only one left. I just wonder… when will my time come? I hope it's soon… I want to see my family.

When we drove here, we sang songs. It was so sunny and hot, and Buffy kept complaining that her shirt was sticking to her back in that icky way it could. I told her to quit whining and she snapped back and then Mommy warned us both that she could drop us both at the side of the road in an instant. We didn't believe her, and kept right on bickering- until she switched on the radio and started singing. Our voices joined hers after a while, and it was just the wind in our hair and the sunshine spilling over our faces.

When the bus enters LA, I step off and look around. His address was taped to the back of the envelope. The Hyperion Hotel. No one looks at me. I guess young girls with the kind of eyes I know I possess are a dime a dozen here. Glancing up at a palm tree swaying in the breeze, I choke back a sob and search in my pocket for a quarter to call a taxi service.

While I wait, perched on a cement block outside the bus station, I remember the way she used to tug on the ends of my hair when our parents would fight. We'd always sit in my closet, cause it was big- with my shoes. I can still feel the satin of my dresses brushing my cheeks, and her fingers—tug, tug, tug—until my scalp stung. But I never told her to stop. She may have been my big sister, but she was little in a lot of ways. When it came to our parents, she couldn't deal with it. And I let her weep on my shoulder. Sometimes she would cover her ears and make these little moaning noises- like a dying animal. They scared me.

She made those noises when Angel left. I heard her.

But after that—she got silent. My sister got so silent.

The taxi pulls up, and I step in, showing the guy the address. He's a little weird, but I don't mind. I think we all are. It takes a while to get there, and I watch the fare ticking away in the black box, the red numbers glistening, shadowed a bit by the glare of sunlight.

Finally, we arrive and as I pay him, I stare at the monstrous building. Angel lives here? Doubtfully, I look again at the back of the envelope and see the words clearly printed in her writing- Hyperion Hotel...

Mounting the steps quickly, before I change my mind, I knock and knock, and the door opens. It's Cordelia. She stares at me for a moment as if she doesn't recognize me and then exclaims- "Dawnie!"

And I wince, because Buffy called me that, but she hugs me and then she bustles me inside. She looks different- older- yet happy. Her eyes well with tears though as she gazes at me.

"Hi Cordelia," I say quietly, and my glance shifts around the huge entryway. It's massive in its splendor. I decide that it's not cozy and know Buffy wouldn't have liked it. I wonder… when Angel chose this place… did he think of her? It hurts me for a moment, in my chest, so I stop imagining- and turn once more to Cordelia. "I'm here to give Angel something."

She nods uncertainly and then says, "I'm really sorry about Buffy, Dawn. I… I'll miss her a lot."

"Thanks," I answer blankly, and she leads me downstairs and into a room I know must be Angel's because the windows are covered in black. He's sleeping, I realize and stare at the figure in the bed. Cordelia shakes his leg impatiently.

"Angel," she calls, and yanks his big toe.

"Wha—wha…" he mumbles and bolts up into a sitting position. His eyes are bloodshot. They look like Buffy's that summer. He mourns her. That thought hurts to.

"Dawn's here," the brown haired woman says and switches on the light, closing the door behind her.

Angel blinks at me and then reaches beside the bed and grabs a T-shirt, pulling it on. He rubs his forehead and then whispers, "Hi Dawn."

"Hi." I sit down and he appears to be thinking.

"Did something else happen?" he finally inquires and I shake my head. I see his face tighten with something akin to renewed grief. What was he hoping I'd say? That Buffy came back? That she was never dead… that she's living, breathing… that she's Buffy again? What a joke. My mouth quivers and I look down at the carpeted floor, absently tracing the letters of her name with my shoe.

"She left something for you," I admit finally and he stiffens.

After an agonizing pause he murmurs, "A message?"

"More like a letter." I hold out the envelope, but he doesn't take it. He looks at me instead and shakes his head slightly.

"I never thought—" he breaks off. "I always thought I'd see her die… but I guess I never knew it would be this soon. I thought I'd get…" he trails off and swallows. "I thought I'd get time with her, first."

"We all did," I whisper and push the letter towards him. "But you get this. We got little pieces."

He touches the letters of his name and says faintly, "It's not enough, is it?"

"No," I agree and turn away as he begins to read.

After a long time, I hear his voice. "Dawnie."

It still aches to hear someone else say it. But it's Angel. And it's different with him. He takes my hand and says, "Thank you. For bringing this."

"No problem," I respond, and we sit there. A girl and a vampire. I think I hear Buffy whisper in my ear.

"Thank you, Dawnie. Thank you."

~~~~~~

Angel,

If you're reading this, it means that I'm dead. I don't know quite what to say, or why I'm even writing this letter to you. Today we go into battle with Glory and I'm scared. You don't know how terrified I am, Angel. I know things aren't going to go well. People are going to die. People that I love. I've accepted that- hell, I know that. But Dawn can't die. I won't let it happen- and I know everyone thinks I'm crazy- to put her above saving the world. But she's a part of me…

And Angel, I'm so tired. So, so tired. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep carrying everything on my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I actually think I want to quit. Just lay down the stake and call it a day. Dawnie's gone, and I'm ready to sleep.

I wish you were here so I could talk to you about this. You always made me feel better with your infinite wisdom. No, that was not sarcasm you just read. I miss you, Angel. I miss your words. Your voice. I thought I had gotten over you- you know. Thought maybe I'd made that break… but I'm wrong. I was never over you. Can a person get over a love like we had? I just wanted to write and tell you that I still love you. That I still wish for you to come back and take me away.

That I've never stopped hoping. That I've never stopping wanting my life to be with you.

If what happens today is what I think will happen… I'll never see you again. I'm going to die. I know it. I feel it. I have to die for Dawnie… I promised my Mom I'd look after her- and I will. I'll make sure she goes on living… and I hope that she'll be happy- that she'll live, for me, and for everyone else I couldn't save.

I'm going to drop this off at the house when I go to get weapons with Spike. Hopefully someone will find it and give it to you. So you'll know… that I will be thinking of you.

Even up there.

Always,

B

End.

If I should die and leave you here awhile
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust and weep
For my sake- turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
And I, perchance, may therein comfort you

A. Price Hughes

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