SUMMARY: 7......Life does not make sense on the Hellmouth.....
SPOILER: The Initiative and The Bachelor Party, both equally suck eppies, especially The Initiative
DISTRIBUTION: Crystal, if she wants it - anyone else - Sure, just email me & lmk where it's going - I like seeing my name in print =) Of course, all my work is at my page - http://planetslaythis.homestead.com & also my ANGEL page, http://planetangelus.homestead.com
FEEDBACK: Please, I'd hate to have to Slay for it. =P
RATING: TV-MA - Buffy gets mouthy. I like her better this way. Is anyone else envisioning a Roswell episode now???
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to Joss & David (Greenwalt not Boreanaz). The song is by Nine Days (Yes, I did just write this now, who cares if the sucky eps are more than a year old? Don't look a gift fanfic in the mouth. < g >) Also, lyrics could be wrong 'cause I did it the lazy way and got them off the first fan site I found.

//So you're standing on a ledge
It looks like you might fall
So far down
Or maybe you should think about jumping
Now you could have it all
If you learned a little patience
For though I cannot fly
I'm not content to crawl
So give me a little credit
Have in me a little faith
I want to be with you forever
If tomorrow's not too late
But it's always too late when you've got nothing
So you say
But you should never let the sun set on tomorrow
Before the sun rises today

If I am
Another waste of everything you dreamed of
I will let you down
If I am
Only here to watch as you suffer
I will let you down\\

Dear Angel,

Nearly two months of writing these letters and I feel no more comfortable about them today than I did the first time.

It's Hell you know, handling all this. It's Hell being the one who has to deal, hold everything together.

I'm the one who always has to kill the big bad. I always have to be where everyone needs me, whenever they need me. Screw my social life. Screw my friends. Screw classes even. Even Giles has put Slaying before college these days.

And I'm putting EVERYTHING before Slaying.

Fuck Slaying.

Just fuck the whole lot of it.

Fuck vampires and fuck Sunnydale and fuck the Council that cursed me with this title and ruined everything I've ever loved, taken away everything that ever meant something.

I was thinking tonight, Angel. About us and about where we'd be right now if you'd stayed in Sunnydale.

I like the dorms, I mean they're all right, but they're not your mansion. I can't train there, I certainly can't think there; I have no privacy, no time to myself anywhere.

I can't remember the last time I did my Tai Chi.

I hate it.

I fucking HATE IT.

I've sorta started hanging out with this guy Riley, and today I learned a little about his ridiculous supernatural mumbo jumbo. It's all so lame. This big group, The Initiative, they work in their lab and they think they're so cool studying vampires and demons.

Riley thinks I don't know about his role in it, but I'm not nearly as dumb as I look.

That didn't sound right.

Anyway, I just feel funny knowing I'm not alone in the Slaying now, because in a lot of ways, I'm more alone now than I ever was.

Someday, when we meet again, if we meet again, I hope I'll be able to figure out why you left, so I can figure out what I did with my life freshman year, 'cause right now I'm twiddling my thumbs and throwing darts at one of your tee shirts. It won't be as fun to sleep in with all the holes, but oh well.

Love and misery, Buffy

*****

//So you're walking on the edge
And you wait your turn to fall
But you're so far gone
That you don't see the hands upheld to catch you
And you could find the fault
In the heart that you've been handed
For though you cannot fly
You're not content to crawl
But it's always too late when you've got nothing
So you say
But you should never let the sun set on tomorrow
Before the sun rises today
If I am
Another waste of everything you hoped for
I will let you down
If I am
Only here to as watch you suffer
I will let you down
So you're standing on a ledge
It looks like you might fall
If I am
Another waste of everything you dreamed of
I will let you down
If I am
Only here to as watch you suffer
I will let you down\\

Dear Buffy,

These letters have become a calming for me; a way to unwind and deal with every unkind hand Fate has dead us.

I don't just mean you and me, I mean everyone.

I mean Doyle.

His wife, well, now she's his ex-wife showed up this week and wanted a divorce so she could marry someone else. The someone else turned out to be another demon who wanted to eat Doyle's brains in celebration of his marriage.

As you or Xander would say, not a big fun.

Both Harrie and her creepy demon are history now, but I can't help sensing a sadness in Doyle at losing her forever.

I also know it didn't help to have Cordelia whack him on the head when he was in his demon state.

Those two may never find their way together, but I wish they would. I desperately wish they would.

All this talk about weddings though, and tradition, and weddings, it kept me thinking of you.

Cordelia was rattling on and on about wedding dresses yesterday and she thought I wasn't paying attention to her. (I wasn't, for the record.) She pulled my sketchbook right out of my hands and gasped; she said my drawing was the best picture of you she'd ever seen.

I'm not sure about that, because I'm not very talented, but I just couldn't get the image of you in a wedding gown out of my head. I keep wishing that someday, it could happen. That we could get married and have children and live happily ever after.

If only....

//The answers we find
Are never what we had in mind
So we make it up as we go along
I won't mention tomorrow
And we won't make those promises that we can't keep...
I will never leave you!
I will never let you down!
I will never leave you!
I will never let you down!\\

I let myself dream that in another world, on another Earth, in another time, we are married. We have three beautiful children and a house with a cat and a dog. There are toys everywhere, and the house is constantly filled with the wonderful music of children playing and laughing.

I picture what you look like pregnant with our child, and what our children's names would be. I envision you and I painting our room a new color after ten years, while the kids make a fuss about the smell of the paint and try desperately to get permission to paint their own rooms themselves.

There are nights when, lying in bed, I almost let myself confuse the fantasy and the reality. A tiny part of my being thinks this can really happen. And I think that's okay.

At least for now. One day, somewhere, somehow, we'll work it out.

All my love,
Angel

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