Summary- Buffy sends Angel a letter, and he realizes something. Is it too late?
Disclaimer- sigh Nothing is what I own again, unfortunately. The lyrics belong to Fort Minor and Buffy and Co belong to Joss Whedon. Can I own the storyline?
Rating- PG-13. Not too bad.
Pairing- B/A implied.
Time line- A few years after Angel.
AN- I was listening to the song and I knew I had to make a short story out of it. I just had to .
No Place Like–
The doorbell rang and it was the afternoon. Nobody came around in the afternoon. Angel padded his way from his comfy chair in the livingroom, to the front door. Opening the door cautiously, he peeked out, to be greeted by the postman holding a box.
"Special delivery for Mr Angel O'Roarke."
Angel nodded at hearing his name, signing what he had to sign and taking the package from the man. Angel closed the door behind himself, uncaring that the sun was peaking out a him from behind the curtains of the next room. He needed a tan.
"Who is it, honey?," a voice called from the kitchen.
Angel swallowed with difficulty, reading the label on the package.
Buffy Summers
Cleveland–Rome
Angel sighed, unable to read on. It was from her.
"The postman. Don't worry, I've got it."
Angel made his way back to his comfy chair, plopping back down and just staring at the package in his hand for a while. Should he open it? Before he could answer his own question, his hands seemed to move on autopilot, opening the medium sized package with ease. A neatly folded letter fell out, along with a CD and an envelope. He took the letter and unfolded it carefully, recognizing the handwriting right away; Buffy.
Angel,
How have you been? I noticed that I haven't received a call or a letter from you. Then again, I also noticed the new blonde you spend your time with. I guess forever was a better prospect with her then with me, huh? I didn't mean for this letter to sound so jealous and hurtful, but that's how I feel...that's how you make me feel.
I hear you're human now. You know who told me? Xander. Xander of all people, told me that you are human. Did this newsflash not deserve to get back to me? I could understand if we decided that it was okay to move on, but last I hear I was waiting for you. You knew I was cookies, I've been cookies. But you...you told me you needed to find yourself. Okay, I let you find yourself. What you found was another blonde to take my place. Thank you Angel. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for letting me believe in forever and that dreams sometimes do come true. No, they really don't. Good luck with your new blonde in New York.
Buffy.
Angel folded the letter again, tears spilling down his cheeks. What had he done? He...oh god. Looking down at the other objects in his hands, he opened the envelope and two separate pictures fell out. Picking the first on up, it was a picture of Buffy right after graduation. He flipped it over and read the writing on the back .
This is the old me you destroyed. Buffy Anne Summers, 18, 1999.
The other picture was obviously taken recently. She was smiling brightly, the sun illuminating her hair and features. She was thinner, more delicate looking.
This is the only me that's left. But you destroyed her too. Buffy Anne Summers, 27, 2008.
Angel picked up the last object–the CD. He stood, everything falling from his lap, as he walked to the CD player. Opening the case, the front said 'Play Me!' so he did. Putting it in, a slow beat came on, accompanied by piano music.
//Where'd
you go? She said "Some days I feel like
shit, I miss you so,Seems like it's been forever, You know the place where you used to live, I miss you so, I want you to know it's a little fucked
up, Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That
you've been gone.
Some days I wanna quit, and just be normal for a bit,"
I
don't understand why you have to always be gone,
I get along but
the trips always feel so long,
And, I find myself trying to stay
by the phone,
'Cause your voice always helps me to not feel so
alone,
But I feel like an idiot, workin' my day around the
call,
But when I pick up I don't have much to say,
So, I want
you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin',
at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your
career,
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd
you go?"
That
you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like
it's been forever,
That you've been gone,
Please come back
home...
Used to
barbecue up burgers and ribs,
Used to have a little party every
Halloween with candy by the pile,
But now, you only stop by every
once and a while,
Shit, I find myself just fillin' my time,
With
anything to keep the thought of you from my mind,
I'm doin' fine,
I plan to keep it that way,
You can call me if you find that you
have something to say,
And I'll tell you, I want you to know it's
a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times
debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your
career,
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd
you go?"
Seems like it's been
forever,
That you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you
so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone,
Please
come back home...
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',
Tired of
sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,
For why you're not
around, and feeling so useless,
It seems one thing has been true
all along,
You don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone,
I
guess I've had it with you and your career,
When you come back I
won't be here and you can sing it...
I miss
you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been
gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,Seems like it's been
forever,
That you've been gone,
Please come back home...
Please
come back home...
Please come back home...
Please come back
home...
Please come back home...//
He dropped the CD cover and ran for the phone in the kitchen. He passed the small blonde that was cutting chicken at the table, almost knocking her over as she stood to greet him. He ignored her cry out when she almost cut herself and dialed rapidly, knowing her number from Willow. He'd have to thank her when he spoke to her.
"Hello?," the voice was unfamiliar.
"Can I please speak to Buffy?"
"Buffy?," the voice was confused. "There's nobody living her by that name."
The dial tone greeted him after a few minutes, him being in a slight catatonic state. His hands, on autopilot once again, dialed once more, but to a different number.
"Hello?"
"Willow? It's Angel."
"Hi, Angel," she didn't sound pleased to hear him.
"Im sorry to call out of the blue, but can I please have Buffy's number? I called her old number, but somebody else picked up."
"Im sorry, Angel, but Buffy left four months ago. Nobody knows where she went."
"What?," he felt as if he was going to die.
"She found out about you, and..your new girlfriend and she left. Im sorry, Angel."
The dial tone greeted him once again, and his hatred and guilt became his friend.
The End.
