Disclaimer: Joss owns them, I do not and never will
Rating: PG
Distribution: Want, take, have; just send the URL
Feedback: Um, yeah??
Summary: What was Buffy really thinking about that summer after "Becoming". A different spin on Joss' easy-get-over-Angel version
Author's Notes: I wrote this right after I finished "End of Innocence". I just had to. It's an idea that's been floating around in my head for weeks. I haven't seen "Anne" in a loooong time, so ignore it if I get something wrong, kay?
Dedication: to my first love, who taught me what pain was; thanks! *grin*

June, 21st 1998

Dear Angel,

I got to LA today, and it was hot. I'm glad I brought some tank tops. The woman sitting beside me on the bus thought I was strange, I could tell. She had bruises all over her arms, and I thought she was weird too, so it was even. Maybe it was because I kept looking at her.

I think I should look for a job. Maybe as a waitress or something. I could do that. Carry the coffee and make sure not to drop the trays. I'm a klutz though, so God knows, I doubt I'll last long. It's busy here, and the cars never stop moving. I saw the ocean and there were a lot of people with really small waists and a lot of people on roller blades. Does anyone just walk anywhere? The whole place smelled like coconut oil and sand. I dipped my feet in the ocean and watched the waves.

Sometimes I wonder what it would like to walk out there, maybe at night, and let the dark water close over my head. I could be like Ophelia. You ever read Hamlet? I'm sure you have, after all, you are two hundred and some. Maybe I could be like her, the Lady of the Lake, with seaweed as a crown. You'll have to excuse me, my mind works differently now. The ocean looks like an escape. Like sweet, sweet nothingness. Like peace. I mean, yes, the waves roar when they crash onto the beach, but have you ever wondered what it would be like to be far, far down there? With the fish and the wrecked ships and the silence? It must be so quiet, in that bubble.

Sometimes I dream that your Hell is a huge ocean. But there's no peace and you just keep drowning over and over again. I dream that your lungs fill with blood and water and you're choking. I hope you're not sending me those dreams. I don't blame you if you are giving me them. But I hope you're not, because I don't want Hell to be like that. Sometimes I dream at night that we, the world, got Hell all wrong, and it's a happy place, full of flowers and sunshine. But then I remembered that the sun burns you.

It burns me too. My skin is sensitive to it. I can't wear the cross you gave me anymore. It makes my chest sting. You don't blame me for taking it off do you? You know, Angel, it's weird but LA is more peaceful than Sunnydale. I didn't know if it would be, but I can't feel you here. In Sunnydale it was like a constant pressure. Here, the sky is big and it opens up for me, and I like it. In the Dale, the sky was trying to crush me. It was trying to swallow me.

You understand why I had to leave, don't you? I just couldn't stay. My throat got choked just thinking about the long summer with Willow and Xander, pretending to listen to them talk, when really I would just be dying inside. Or else just suffering slowly.

I have to go, but I promise, I'll be back soon. I won't leave you alone for too long.

Always, Buffy

~

July 8th 1998

Dear Angel,

I found a job and its every bit as bad as I thought it would be. My boss looks at me weird everytime I come in, and I have to wear this stupid gingham apron. I feel like a fool. I changed my name. To Anne. That's my middle name. Did I ever tell you that? I'm not sure if I did.

The people that come in aren't important. I give them their coffee and pie and they're happy. I wish a slice of pie made me happy. I don't eat anymore. My stomach doesn't like food. It tastes like blood to me. Like poison. Besides, I shouldn't have food, it's not like you get to sit down to a nice meal anymore.

The hours are long, and I got an apartment in some bad part of town. I know you'd be worried about me if you were here. Don't be a worrywart, I'm fine. Member the Slayer powers? I can take care of myself just fine. No one bothers me. I'm just another person following their dreams in Tinsel Town.

My Dad lives here but I haven't been to see him of course. He wouldn't know what to say. He'd just tell my Mom where I am, and I don't want to be found yet. I don't know what the gang must be thinking. They must think I'm such a flake for running off and leaving all my responsibilities. I don't think they could ever understand. Only you do, but then I knew you would. You're the only person who gets me. Giles must be so worried. Leaving him hurt the most. I failed him, again. Flighty Buffy.

This world seems different to me, somehow. I thought it might change drastically after you left. Like, the sky would turn red and start raining blood or something. I don't know. But nothing really happened to everyone else. It's just me. The birds when they sing. it doesn't sound pretty anymore. Coffee tastes bitter, a different kind of bitter than usual. And the ocean looks like a death trap. Not that I don't like the ocean. I do. I want to walk into it, like I told you before.

I wonder, if I died, would we be together? Or is that not allowed in the demon dimension thing? Could you come, and hold me, and make love to me again? Sometimes at night I dream you're inside me, and everything is full. But then I wake up, and my insides yawn with all the empty space. My stomach growls in the morning, but I don't think it's for food. It wants you.

I have to go now. Work is calling. Ugh. But I'll be back soon.

Always, Buffy

~

July 20th 1998

Dear Angel,

I thought about going home today. I mean to Sunnydale. But then I thought, where is that? I don't even know it anymore. Everyone seems so far away, not real at all. My life is so busy here, and back in Sunnydale, there would be time to think. To talk to people. They'd want to know, where I was, what I'd been doing. I don't know if I could face that.

If I close my eyes, I can see you, and I like that. Your face is getting a little blurry though, and it worries me. I won't forget what you look like will I? It's been so long since we kissed, but I swear the salt of your tears is still on my mouth. I lick them constantly, catching just a little taste of you. It makes me cry, because for a moment, I think you're near.

Did I tell you I keep thinking that I see you? It'll just be a random occurrence. Usually on the beach. Sometimes I go out there to look at the ocean and be one of the normal people with blonde hair and a smile. I'll be running my hands through the water, and I'll see your face, as if you're standing behind me. You never are.

Or I'll be at the coffee shop, and I'll think you walk in. The little bell on the door will jingle, and for a moment, it's you. You with your black clothes and half smile. God.did I tell you that makes me cry too? Customers think I'm weird. My boss would fire me, but he needs the help.

I wear a lot of make up now. More than usual. To cover up the tear stains, and the dark circles and the pain. It's become a part of me now. A hollowness in my belly that won't go away. I hope it never does. Because if it did, it would mean you stopped mattering. It would mean I was over you. That could never happen. I promise it never will. Your life meant something to me. It should have meant more. That's what you're probably thinking, right? That if I really cared, I wouldn't have killed you.

You're right, you know. Well, that I shouldn't have killed you. Maybe I should have let Acathla suck us all into Hell. At least it would be better than this.

I have to sleep, my eyes are drooping.

Always, Buffy

~

August 2nd 1998

Dear Angel,

You haven't come into my dreams for a while. I miss you.

Always, Buffy

~

August 14th 1998

Dear Angel,

Someone stole my purse today. I let them. Maybe I could have punched them out, but I figured, if they needed it so badly.? My life is empty, but you already knew that. It's full of spilled coffee and dish cloths, aprons and angry customers. Things that mean nothing. My name tag feels weird sometimes. And I still forget sometimes when people say. "Anne" that that's me.

I wish you would come back, and I could be Buffy again. I feel like I can't be her until you return. Maybe that's irrational. But it's true. If I just slip back into her skin again, then it would mean you meant nothing. And that's not true. You believe me, don't you? I knew you would. If I go back, which seems less likely as each day goes by, you won't be there waiting for me, and I don't know if I could face that. I created my own prison here and I have to live it out.

I haven't run into any vampires, and I wish I would. Maybe a fight would be good for me. A demon fight. But I think the dust would make me sick. I could never pick up a sword without wanting to throw up. The feel of metal is still hard to take. But I like salt. It tastes like your lips. I put salt on everything now. People at the shop think I'm weird, but what do I care? I'm starting to eat a little. I noticed my ribs were starting to show, so I thought it would be better not to starve anymore. Food is getting surprisingly easy. It passes the time.

Your voice still whispers in my ear sometimes. I can hear you so clearly. "I love you. Buffy."

You always said my name like it hurt. Like the syllables were burning your throat and tongue as you wrapped around them. You said my name like it was a lament, an end to itself. You said my name like it was the world. Your world.

I can't ever be Buffy again. If you can't call me that, I don't want anyone saying it.

Always, Buffy

~

September 22nd 1998

Dear Angel,

I met this girl again today that I knew in Sunnydale. Her name was Chanterelle there, but now she's calling herself Lily. She wanted me to help her find her boyfriend. Oh God, I couldn't. I felt so tired, and I hated it. She called me Buffy, and I hated it.

You know what else I hate? That you're not here. I wish you would come back. Part of me knows that's impossible, but hey, my mind was never logical was it?

I miss you.

Always, Buffy

~

September 29th 1998

Dear Angel,

I'm going home. To Sunnydale. It was a snap decision basically. I found Lily's boyfriend and it was a big fight. Long story short? There were these guys that wanted us to be nobody slaves for all eternity. No thanks! I beat the bad guys and decided it was time to go back. I packed up and left my place and I'm on the bus right now. Sorry if the writing is messy. It's a bumpy trip.

Once I get back, I'm going to burn all these letters. I don't want anyone to know I wrote them. Thanks for listening to me all this time. Did I ever tell you you're a good listener?

Life is going to be hard when I get back there. I don't even know what my friends and my Mom will say. They'll be mad and I might pretend to care.

You know, I may act like I've moved on, and I might go back to school (If Snyder-beast lets me), but really, you know where I'll be?

On that beach, with you, watching the waves. I'll be dreaming of the silent still depths of the ocean, and wishing we there, in a place full of peace.

I love you, Angel. I don't know if I ever told you that enough.

Always, Buffy

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