It's November and not at all cold here. Not that it got cooler in Sunnydale…

Willow and I stayed up all night talking again but I think she's still wrecked over Oz and it hurt me to listen to her because I know exactly how she feels. I didn't tell her about seeing Angel a couple days ago. What was I going to say? “Sorry your boyfriend left you but I have more pressing problems right now?”

I'm in English and I'm not even listening. We're studying Frankenstein and the teacher is waxing on about how we should all feel sorry for the monster. Yeah, right. Like anyone would be like, “Oh great…a green coloured man with bolts sticking out of its head! We'll be nice to it to see if it's nice.” Everyone is so hypocritical in here. I want to stand up and say that I've been faced with demons and they are not sweetness and light. I want to say to run if you ever encounter one. But really, everyone would laugh. We pretend they aren't out there and no one wants to know.

Juliet and I are supposed to meet after class to head for the malls. Ugh. I used to love shopping, and when I was in Sunnydale I hardly ever got to. It should be a treat now that I'm here but I guess I've just grown past that.

My eyes drift to the window. It may not be cold, but there is no sun. It's a thickly rainy day and my spirits feel about on par with the weather. Tapping my pencil on the side of my seat I notice the guy next to me staring fixedly at my tanned legs that are peeking out from my slitted black leather skirt. I want to tell him to put his eyes back in his head, but I guess I can't fault him for looking.

~~~

My Dad's Mom, Grandma Elizabeth, died when I was ten. I went to see her in the hospital and she looked thin. I didn't know how to say Goodbye, so I just kissed her cheek and said I would see her soon. Her skin was almost blue and she smiled at me. She looked like she knew it was her time to go. I wonder if I will know when the time comes, or will it be a surprise? Maybe I'll sink into death when she did, at a very old age. Maybe I'll die in my sleep. Of course I know this is just a dream. My death will be bloody, messy, a battle maybe. I'll die young and pretty, my blonde hair stained with red, my smile older than it should be.

~~~

This classroom is stifling. The walls are sweating and I can see a bead of perspiration on the guy in front of me. It's rolling down the flesh of his neck. I wonder if he feels it or he's just ignoring it. My hair is sticking to my forehead. I don't look pretty right now. It's too hot. Why don't they have air-conditioning in this room? It must be the only one in all of UCLA that does not have an a/c.

I remember when Angel and I used to train and he'd sweat. His skin would be shiny with exertion and my tongue would literally ache to taste him. I wish I knew what his sweat tasted like. I don't. The one night we made love he was cool and wet with rain.

My hands hurt. They look small against my knees. I wish they were bigger, more capable or something. I wish I had someone to rub them and make them feel better. I think the guy beside me would like the job, but he'd want a quick fumbling of my tanned body and he's want to be inside me and stretch me, and I can't have that. No one is allowed into me anymore. It doesn't work. No one fits.

Finally, class is over. Getting up, I see Juliet waiting at the door for me. She's dressed in a red sleek jumpsuit that no one else could ever get away with. But she does. Seeing me, she waves lightly and her mouth curves. I get a funny feeling about her sometimes but I'm not sure what it is. “Hello,” she says with her panther eyes trained on me. “Ready to shop?”

I can't say no. Besides, what else am I going to do? “Sure, let's hit the malls,” I agree and she links arms with me, tossing a look back at my classroom.

“English a drag huh?”

“The draggiest,” I admit and she grins.

“Yeah…I feel you.”

We drive to the mall in her black convertible, with the top up. I think everyone in LA has a cool car. Except me. My Dad barely notices I exist, much less thinks to get me a vehicle. The bus is fine for me. When we reach the West Beverly Shopping Center, I grab my black bag and hop out, covering my head with it. Rain is coming down fiercely. “We better run.”

Juliet sighs with pleasure and her lips are wet. “No…I love the rain. Don't you?”

“Well, when I have an umbrella I do. C'mon Julie. No one likes frizzy hair.”

When we get into the mall, things whirl and melt together into endless tops and skirts, boots and make up and glittery pants with hoop earrings. I end up buying quite a bit. Juliet leaves with only a lipstick, in blood red. “I didn't see anything else I liked,” she shrugs.

I go home and make myself a sandwich. My Dad is working. Big surprise.

~~~

From: Snoopy56@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: Hey, checking in…
Date: 28th November

Hey Buff,

Well, things are crazy in Sunnydale. Will is wigging out over Oz and she did a spell to have her will done. It ended up with me having fuzzy feelings for Spike…(I know, insert gagging noises here) and Giles going blind. She didn't get her will done in the end, but she keeps baking cookies so we'll forgive her.

Anya and I are sort of officially dating. Well, scratch that…I've been roped into officially dating her. Not that I want to. Really. I don't. Hmmm…

Have you seen Angel or something? Your e-mail last night was sorta overly cheery. It sounds like something's up with our fave Slayer. C'mon…tell Uncle Xander.

Everyone misses you. Your Mom especially, although she's doing ok. Giles acts like he doesn't. He gets all English and British (that might be the same thing) and says something like, “We should all be happy that Buffy is spending more time with her father”. I am of course, but damn, Buff, please come and visit. And bring those (I assume) HOTTIE friends you have. Oh wait, dating Anya now. Never mind.

Miss you Buff. By the way, busted a gut over the e-card you sent. Where do you find those? Or is that a trade secret?

Xander

~~~

From: WiccaSister89@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: Thanks for the talk…
Date: December 1st

Buffy,

Hey, I miss you. I loved talking to you on the phone last night…I said that right? I didn't tell you last night, but I have this new friend. I haven't told anyone about her yet. Her name's Tara and she's a bad ass Wicca. Pretty powerful from what I've seen. I think our spells are going to rock.

Nothing much else is happening. Xander and Anya make me want to gag. Spike is hanging out with us a lot, Xander had to tie him to a chair in his room the other night. I think we've got all the Spike we can handle at the moment. I don't have a new roommate or anything. Rooming alone. I loved the poem by Jewel you sent me. Here, I went out and bought her book, so this is one I loved as well…

Compass
Together we have sensed distance
Stretch it's defeating spine
Between our hearts, and felt the haunting gales of vacancy fill
The hollows of our eyes with wandering

There is no thief to blame who has
Stolen the warmth from our kisses; departure has been gradual
By degrees

Because I love you
I will not send you into the night
With teeth marks and pride I have
Stripped you of. I will draw
A compass on your belly, and you
Will tell my heart it's okay
Before we turn each other loose beneath the
Endless sky. Let us be still.
Tell the arms not to worry so.
Disarm the tongue of it's dagger
And listen.

Such cold beauty exists here
Do you see it? Like the landscape
Frozen, waiting to be born.
By Jewel Kilcher

I still think about Oz every day. Every minute and I wonder when he'll come back. I guess it was the same for you, with Angel?

It will get better won't it? With all the time that's passing?

W

~~~

The beach is silent tonight. I come to this one at night sometimes and walk with my toes trailing in the water. It's cold without the sun warming it's depths. My feet are cool and I love it. It's so dark out here and I can barely see the ocean. I like it at night because it looks like an escape. Sometimes I still picture walking into it, letting all the water seep into my pores and lungs and swimming to the very bottom until I touch the sand and know I've reached peace.

When I was little I was scared to touch the bottom of the pool with my feet. “Sharks will get me,” I told my Mom. She would laugh as all mothers do at their children and force me to. I don't think she understood the fear that choked my six-year-old throat. I didn't like the dark. I didn't like the unknown.

How funny, because now I do. Maybe it's the way my life goes. I think the unknown must be better than what I'm living now. If I was swimming once and seaweed caught at my legs, trying to pull me under, I don't know if I would fight. Maybe I would just take what the ocean was offering me. A way out. A way out from the mess that is my life. Even with all this time away from Sunnydale and the Scoobies, I'm still flirting with the edge. With every step I spin closer and I want to know…what would it take for me to go over? What is it going to take to stop me?

A figure steps from the darkness and I scuff my feet on the sand, not really surprised. I knew we would see each other again. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Angel greets me, his voice husky and deep. His skin gleams in the faint moonlight, and the shadows bouncing off the water hit him and make him look like an Adonis.

“How did you find me here?” I ask and he shrugs.

“I sensed you.” Such a simple answer, and it cuts right to my core. The weight of this connection between us is starting to crush my lungs. I realize my feet are burning from rubbing them against the sand and I stop.

“How's…life?”

He looks surprised at my question, as if he's forgotten that we barely know each other anymore. “Fine,” he replies. “Cordelia works for me now. So does this man named Doyle. He has important visions from the Powers that Be…we help people with lost souls…”

I'm impressed and I don't want to be. But it is nice to see him with a quest. I like that he's got something. I guess it just wasn't enough anymore. Having just me. My face hurts. The flesh around my cheeks is stinging. God I want to cry. “That's great,” I compliment him. “Must be nice, helping people in trouble and all.”

“Yeah, I guess you would understand,” he reminds me and I'm startled for a moment. I don't really help people. Do I? “You help people, Buffy,” he comments quietly, reading my mind as he always was able to do.

“Thanks. But I'm not some super hero,” I grumble, and turn away to watch the waves capping onto the shore, the pebbles in the sand getting between my toes. “Anyway, you do it because you have a choice. I don't. Believe me, I'd much rather be painting my nails.”

“Don't try and make yourself sound shallow.” His voice is soft and my heart cracks. It would be so easy to spin around and go right over the edge. Throw myself in his strong arms and hold him until our bones ache. I might as well just fling myself into the ocean. For a moment, I consider it. What would he do? My thoughts are interrupted as he continues; “Anyway, I don't have a choice in this either. You know I have to make amends. You told me that once.”

“Did I?” I don't remember. But lately I can't recall anything. I can't even remember why he left. “Why did you leave” I inquire unthinkingly and hear his gasp. He didn't expect that. Well, good. Let him founder for a while.

“Because I could never give you a normal life.”

“Bullshit.”

Maybe that was a harsh answer. But I want to screw him up. He doesn't seem unhappy and I can't even express how fucking angry that makes me. He should be miserable. He should be crying on my shoulder. He should be trying to kiss me. Why isn't he? I could kill him right now. Hot rage is boiling underneath my flesh and I want to scream.

“Buffy…” he sounds hesitant and that makes me hate him even more. “You…said you understood. Has that changed?”

“Of course I said I understood!” my voice is breaking. “I wanted you to think I was strong. Buffy…she never crumbles! Even when the man she loves leaves her…nope, she stays perky and saves the goddamn planet! Oh yeah…that Buffy…what a trooper…”

He's coming forward and his hands grip my forearms. “What do you want?” he asks, his calm demeanour disappearing.

We're so close. I can feel his skin. I can feel his strength. “For you to fuck me…” I breathe tauntingly, knowing he will find that unendurable.

“Buffy…” he groans, and shakes me angrily. “You little bitch…”

So now we're reduced to this. I knew it would come around eventually. A showdown. A shouting, slinging match where we both try and hurt each other. “You're pathetic…” I tell him, lying through my pure white teeth. “Can't even make love to me…”

His eyes darken with fury and anguish and I wrench myself away from him, doing what I want to do, throwing myself into the dark waves, my body struggling as I swim. I hear his scream, “Buffy!!”

Catch me if you can, I think and the water stings my eyes. The waves are higher than they seemed from the beach and the water is sucking me down, black as pitch, covering my skin and getting into my ears and mouth. If I drink…what will happen? I want to open my mouth, and sink deeper, into this greedy ocean. It wants me for dinner and maybe I might just let it have me.

Opening my lips, I feel a salty trickle enter, soon a gush, but before I can swallow, arms grab me. I don't struggle. Cause I don't want to bring him down with me. As he swims with me, his anger is a palpable presence.

Dragging me onto the beach, Angel lays me out onto the sand, shaking with rage as his hands come down on either side of my face. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouts raggedly and I shrug.

It's that shrug that makes him snap. With a tortured groan, he leans down and his mouth is crushing mine. His lips are salty, but he tastes better than the ocean. Gasping with sudden, devastating desire, my mouth opens and he swirls his tongue past my lips, licking me dry. God…I want this. His thighs are a hard pressure between my thighs as I open my legs and hope he will rip of his pants, slam into me and not care about the consequences. God…just be inside me…come inside me and fill me up. I feel so empty suddenly, this great, yawning space within me, and I use my hands to pull his back so his full weight will envelop my body. His mouth is hungry and hot, as his tongue licks the hollow in my throat.

“Please…”

I don't even recognize my own voice. It's panting, and desperate and I don't think he recognizes it either. With a sudden movement, his mouth is torn from mine and he whirls himself away. “Buffy…” he moans, and I sit up, feeling my skin scratching against the sand. Between my legs feels sore and open. It's waiting for him…but I know he will never let himself.

“I'm sorry…” I murmur helplessly and run down the beach, my salty hair streaming behind me, mixing with the salt of my tears.

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