Disclaimer: I own nothing...well, except the concept for this story.
Rating: Same as shows.
Distribution: Twin Flames (when it's finally up and running), lists, Babble Board and FF.net. Anyone who wants it is welcome as long as they let me know.
Spoilers: Everything we've seen so far.
Summary: En route to Sunnydale with the file and the amulet, Angel writes a letter.
Dedication: Alley. Really...it has to be Alley! She read this fic more times that ANYONE should have to read ANYTHING. I owe her big time. Feedback: Please?

Dearest Buffy,

It is strange in the course of eternity, that I should have so little time. So little time to write this letter, so little time...and so much to say. Stranger still that I find myself praying. Praying to the same faceless Powers who have so often dictated our misfortune. Praying that you will never read these words- because I so desperately want to tell you this in person. I want to tell you everything; what has happened, how I feel. And I want to stand at your side when you open this folder, when you make your plans, when you fight. But it's been so long, my love, it would be foolish to assume you will let me. More foolish...to assume that circumstances will let me. Time is a cruel, fleeting enemy.

I read the documents. Read about you, about Sunnydale, about the First...there were pages that tore at old wounds and pages that made me burn with guilt, with fear...Wolfram & Hart were, as always, relentlessly thorough. Their resources are mine now, mine to use as I please- the entire L.A. branch is at my disposal. You'll probably think me crazy for striking a deal with them, maybe I am, but I know the risks. I know that someday their ulterior motives will emerge. And I know that some things will always be beyond their reach. They tried to bribe me with the file and the amulet, tried to use you as a weapon, but I wouldn't allow it. I will never allow it. I would have found a way to help you...a different way, a better way- without them.

But there were other things at stake, other people. People whose lives are my responsibility. I took the offer because I have weaknesses. Weaknesses they found, weaknesses they exploited. But you aren't one of them; you are the very essence of my fortitude. That is the reason I didn't follow Faith and Willow back to Sunnydale, the reason I didn't come running every time a demon dared to speak your name. I know you, Buffy. I know your strength and your courage, and I know that you don't need a trinket or some printed text in order to succeed. I know that you don't need me in order to succeed. You never did. And it makes me so proud.

Helping you, being close to you, is an honor- one that I have denied myself for so long. This very night, I may have that privilege again. A part of me wants to rejoice, yet giving you this folder will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. Because I know what you have to face. Because every bone in this lifeless body is crying out to me, begging me not to let you go, begging me to steal you away and keep you safe. I have always wanted to keep you safe. But while there are demons, while there is darkness...you can't be. Neither of us can.

And so we fight them. Without rest or a discernable end. But I have been on this earth a long time, I have lived and experienced more than any man deserves or desires. You have sacrificed your freedom, your youth, even your life, to this war, and you have borne the duty with humor, and grace, and a determination that will forever astound me.

Perhaps the greatest injustice is that I may be granted a reward. My Shanshu. Something I never speak about, something I rarely allow myself to think about. But when I do, Buffy- I remember your face, remember your eyes brightening in the moonlight, your tears falling. I remember you smiling at me, calling it my "new shoes"...although it may not come in your lifetime, although you were in pain, such terrible pain- grieving for your mother, for your loss- you smiled at me. I was in awe. I remember it with awe. I have known your heart, tasted your compassion, your trust, the promise of the girl you once were and, that night, you showed me the beauty of the woman you have since become.

I want everything for you, sunlight and lullabies and happiness beyond measure. I would do anything, sacrifice anything, to give you the life you deserve. I left you, breaking your heart and mine, so that you could have something real, something fulfilling. I suffered the knowledge that someone else would love you, someone else would touch you, and I would do it all again. But I won't ever stop dreaming. I won't ever stop loving you. I won't ever stop wanting you here by my side.

And I got my wish, Buffy, for one day, I got my wish. You will never remember it, but you deserve to know, you have a right to know. That right was taken from you, I let them take it from you, and I kept their secret. It was wrong. I understand that now. I've felt the obscurity, witnessed the devastation, of a world where people are deceived and robbed of their choices. Seen what happens when good intentions govern without care for individuals who are powerless to stop it. I saw all this recently, and I had to decide. I had to take perfect bliss from the people I love, from a whole city, to dispel the ignorance that was inflicted upon them, to return the right they had been denied- the right to choose. And it made me realize what I had done to you, by leaving, by sheltering you from the truth, by imposing my judgment when I should have trusted you to use your own. I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to see that, to try and rectify it...and to be honest with you.

You came to my office that day, it was Thanksgiving, and you yelled at me for being in Sunnydale, for not telling you. I'm sure you will remember a Mohra demon crashing through the window; you will remember that I killed it quickly, easily. Only, I didn't. Not the first time. The first time, it got away. We searched, searched the sewers, decided to split up. You went out into the daylight. Where I couldn't follow. But something was happening, a change. During the fight, the demon's blood had mixed with mine... I became human.

I found you at the Santa Monica Pier. You were so amazed, so wonderfully happy...and I kissed you. Without hesitation and without fear for my soul. We had a whole day together, Buffy. One incredible day. Our hearts beat the same rhythm, we ate ice cream, we made love. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever, will ever, experience. I want you to know that. I wish you could treasure it as I do.

But it wasn't our time, Love. The darkness wasn't finished with us. We thought the Mohra demon was dead, but it came back, and there would be more. I knew there would be more. So I hunted it and tried to kill it, but I wasn't strong enough. You came after me, found me bruised and defeated, you put you life in danger. Because I was helpless. And I vowed that it would never happen again. I went to the Oracles...The Powers That Be...and I asked them what it meant, I asked them what our future held if I stayed human. They told me you would die, Buffy. The price for my life was yours.

So, without telling you first, without consulting you, I gave back our day, gave back my humanity. The Oracles reversed it all with a simple turn of the clock. When I told you what I'd done...you cried, you stared at me and you cried. I never thought I would see that look in your eyes again, that look of utter betrayal- not so long as my soul rested in safe in this body. We had moments, seconds to share a goodbye and then it was over. Erased. This time when the demon attacked, I knew its weakness, I killed it and you left. You said it was time to start forgetting. And I longed to believe that you were wrong, that it wasn't true. I was reminded of something else you once told me: That it's never over. Those were the words I chose to keep. The words I've repeated so many times since, silently, reverently. I feel like they belong to me. I've held them close, refusing to let go, refusing to hear any denial. Even when the world told me they were nothing but a lie.

I can picture Willow's face. It's so clear, so sharp and cold, the memory hasn't faded. It will never fade. When she told me you were gone, I expected everything to stop. I was gasping at the effort it took to stand, at the revelation that without you- I still existed. And I asked myself, why? Why did we stay apart for so long? Why did I ever leave you? Why did I sacrifice our chance to be together, to be happy, when you were to be cheated of your life so soon, so cruelly? Why wasn't I there? Why didn't I save you? How those questions tortured me, as I lay awake in the vast empty place that I will never call home. Without you, I have no home.

I never dealt with your death, Buffy, I didn't know how. I couldn't even begin to comprehend such loss, such despair. It was all I could do to bury it deeply, carefully, to keep fighting in your name. And when they brought you back, so suddenly, like the final, glorious twist in a sadistic fairytale, I needed to see you, breathing, living. I couldn't kiss you enough, couldn't touch you enough, to be truly convinced that you were there, that you were real. And I wanted to scream at you to forget everything I ever said about a normal life. Because each moment is more precious than we can hope to understand. If anything taught me that, it was your death.

I swear, I felt my heart shatter when you walked away. You said it was your turn now, your turn to leave. And watching you was harder than I thought possible. I couldn't have done it. I would have followed you, if I hadn't finally understood: Nothing can part us, Buffy, not distance, not a curse, and not death. I know that we can never be normal. We're more than that. The farther I am from you, the more I see the way we are bonded...never more so than when I thought you were gone, when I thought that your face would only haunt the shadows, that I would only hear you whisper to me when the cold echoes of death were stirring the air.

I believe you were meant to die. I believe you were meant to come back.

I believe that we are meant to be together, that somehow we will find a way.

I lied to you, Buffy. When I agreed that nothing had changed, that we should go on living separate lives...I lied. Something had changed. I had changed. It struck me then, in that very moment that someday we would have our time. I didn't know how it would happen, or why, or when- I just knew. And I felt closer to you. I felt lighter, hopeful. I even found myself wearing the odd pastel shirt...are you smiling now as you imagine it? I so love to see you smile.

If only I could shield you from all the ugliness in this world, if only you never had to cry or feel pain...if only that was living. What I am about to tell you makes me so ashamed, I hardly know how I'm going to look you in the eye when I reach you. There will always be things I wish you didn't know, hadn't seen, but you alone have nurtured my soul and fought my demon. You alone deserve to know the truth. All of it.

Some time ago, I began to develop feelings for Cordelia. She has been my friend, my confidante, and for a long time I have cared for her deeply, but this was different. This went further- I believed that I was in love with her. My feelings for you, my hopes for our future, were subdued. We eventually discovered that she was under the control of a fallen Power named Jasmine. A plan had been orchestrated, an elaborate plan, for which she needed to cultivate my love, my protection. I can blame it on magick, on her ability to alter perception and emotions, on the encouragement of my friends, but I still bear the weight of that betrayal. There is a part of me that refuses to believe I couldn't stop it, that I could be so blind. Refuses to believe that I allowed it to happen. Those feelings weren't real, they were an illusion, but knowing that they will cause you pain, knowing that I have caused you pain...how can I possibly be sorry enough? I was never over you, Buffy; I will never be over you. You are always in my heart, bound to my soul, and- no matter how strong Jasmine became, no matter how much she manipulated me- you were still in my thoughts. In the end, she couldn't make me forget. No one can. At the very edge of my conscious mind, I heard you calling.

The last time we saw each other, you said that you had never loved another man, that you never would, not the way you loved me. And I promised you the same. I meant it, Buffy. It wasn't because I was relieved to see you alive, or because I owed it to you, or because I promised you "always" so many times...it was simply the truth. It still is.

And of all creatures, Angelus knew. I'm sure that Willow has told you what happened, the risk we took. The risk I took. Please, don't be angry with me, we were desperate, I had to let them try. Wesley found someone who could do it, found someone who could take my soul, engineer a dream of my perfect day. Synthetic happiness. It was so vivid, so artful. He made me a hero, brought my friends back together, healed the past, gave me new hopes for the future...and he gave me Cordelia. He thought it was her. Thought she was my true love. He was wrong. It's you...it has always been you. That's why it didn't work, why it couldn't work. But I was beginning to remember, maybe because of the spell, or maybe because I knew the fabric of the world he had shown me was corrupt. How could it not be? The world it was based on was corrupt. Suddenly, I realized that, and I remembered. I remembered you. That's how it happened. As they ripped out my soul, I whispered your name. Because it was real.

So much of my life since I left you has been nothing more than a game, but I can't regret it...because it brought me my son. I have a son, Buffy. His name is Connor. And no one remembers him. I don't even know if you're hearing this for the first time, if Willow or Faith told you about him, you won't know either, because all memory of his existence has been erased. I am sorry that I didn't tell you about him long ago, that I didn't bring him to you as a babe, that you never held him, never saw his face crumple with laughter or frustration. I am sorry for so many things.

He was a part of Jasmine's plan. She created the impossible, a child of two vampires. My child, and Darla's child. I hate that he isn't yours, I hate that I couldn't share such joy with you, but the love I have for him is etched into the very core of my being and I can't regret it, Buffy, I can't. I know that you would never ask me to. He was taken from me so soon. Raised in the very depths of hate and revenge, by my enemy, in another dimension. When he returned, he was fully-grown, trained to despise me, trained to kill me. They were such trivial things, Love, because my son was home. Nothing he did could taint my devotion. We fought and bled and he raged against everything I am, but he was still my son. A miracle. He still is.

But he's gone. I gave him up, Buffy. Like you. I gave him up so he could have a normal life, and I don't regret my choice. I had nothing left to offer him, he needed so much more than my love, he deserved so much more. I can feel my hand beginning to shake as I write this. I know that I must be strong. Soon I'll be in Sunnydale, soon I will see your face. I need to be strong. But, Buffy, it hurts. It hurts so badly and I don't have the words. I have read poetry and tragedy, over two hundred years of literature, and I can't find the words. Because there aren't any. My child, my baby boy, is gone. It was moments and an age ago I first saw him born, cold and crying in a dark alley, moments and an age ago I saw him warm and smiling, in a new home, with a new family. I was afraid for my soul, to see him so loved, so cherished, because his happiness and my happiness, and yours, are wound so tightly together I hardly know how to tell them apart.

I saw what we could have been. The life we were denied. He's a young man now, bold and ambitious. And he will be cared for, guided. But not how I imagined it, not how I always dreamed it would be. You and me, Buffy, raising Connor. Our family was my dream.

He is a part of the reason that I am writing to you now. I have learned so much. He has taught me so much...about fate, about sacrifice. In a world where so many struggle to maintain their freedom, he was drowning, because he didn't want it. Because the nature of his birth stole his choice, the same choice that millions of people are presented with every day: To see, to believe, or to live in denial and breathe the legend of normalcy. It was the one thing he desired, and the one gift that I had the power to give him. I cannot do the same for you, Buffy, I have tried. Like a fool, I tried. But it was impossible. And you never wanted it.

My ignorance has been standing in our path. I can apologize over and over for the secrets I have kept, for the choices I took from you, but I need you to know that it will never happen again. Because I believe in our future. Because I believe that we are so much closer to it- the lessons Connor taught me brought us closer to it. Hard lessons, Buffy. I know that you have been learning your own. Your whole story is in this file, every detail. I had to explain, I had to write this letter. Our lives have been so turbulent, but I have hope now, your return brought me hope, Connor brought me hope. And I want to share it with you. I want to share everything with you.

In my eyes you have always been perfect. You will always be perfect. A burger joint can't change that. Spike can't change that. Believe it, Buffy. On this journey, I have wondered: Should I have been there to help you? If I had been there to help you, would you have let me?

But the past doesn't matter, now. None of it matters. Because it can't touch us. It can't touch what we once had and it can't touch what we could have in the future. I finally understand that. And I understand that you care for Spike, that you trust him. I will never forgive him for trying to hurt you. I will never stop wanting to cleave his heart in two and make him pay, and I will mourn for the light he took, that small part of your innocence that you can never reclaim. But I understand, like you understood when I told you about Darla. And I'm grateful that he watches over you, that you weren't alone. You shouldn't be alone.

The Slayer stands in darkness, ancient, powerful, isolated. But behind her abilities, her strength, there's a girl, a woman. Buffy Summers. She is kind and open and passionate. She has family, and friends, and people who care about her. And if she needs anything, if the Slayer needs anything; someone to talk to, someone to understand, someone to spar with, to cry with, a cup of sugar- anything- I'm a phone call away. Have I ever told you that? It seems so obvious, so simple, but it's so important. Call to me and trust that I will answer, that I will come to you, willingly, eagerly...as I do now.

Sunnydale is drawing closer. This is your fight. But I want to be there, every step of the way- you have to know that. I want to stand at your side and tear down every minion sent to deter you, I want to share your triumph, I want to hold you in my arms and ease the lingering ache...I want to be home. And I want to be your home. It may only be for a moment, we may be parted again, but we can win their game, in this life, or the lives to come. I believe in us, I believe in forever.

We will make it through this battle, and the next, we just have to fight. You said that "strong is fighting". That we could do it together. The First wanted me gone and you said that I could hurt it. Now you can hurt it too, remember that. Remember all the things you told me and fight, never stop fighting. I can promise you someday, somehow. Just fight for me as I, everyday, will keep fighting for you.

I love you so much, Buffy. Still. Always.

Yours, Only yours,

Angel

* * *

Buffy stared at the crisp, white paper, at the delicate, flowing script. Every word woven with love. For her.

She brushed a hand across her face, folded the letter and, finally, she entered the house. Ready to celebrate her victory over Caleb, ready to let Spike prove the value of a soul- something that Angel had taught her, something that she was beginning to understand, to feel.

Ready to kick some ass.

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