Letters

Dedication: To Jess, just so she has more archiving to do ::hee hee:: And to everyone else, you know who you are.
Authors Notes: Inspiration hit after I saw this film called Love Letters. So I kinda stole the idea. Sue me.

24 January, 2010
Dear Xander,

It seems weird to be writing your name after all these years. I got you address from your Uncle Rory, I hope you don't mind. So you're living in Colorado, now? And writing? I can't tell you the shock I had when I saw your name on the top of the New York Bestsellers list. Alexander L Harris - 'the most talented writer this generation has produced'. High praise for a small town boy.

I don't know what to say. Its taken me an hour to write this first paragraph. How long has it been since we last talked? Edging onto 10 years now. God, it seems like yesterday. The day of the funeral. But I shouldn't talk about those things. I guess I just wanted to touch base with you, let you know I was still alive and hoping very much that you will write back.

I stopped being angry that you left a long time ago, you know. I mean, I accepted it, understood it was what you needed to do. And if you're happy, well then as your friend, I really can't complain, can I?

Because that's all I ever wanted for you, Xander. Happiness. Well, I guess you want to know about everyone. I say guess because you never bothered in the past to find out. Sorry, little bitterness - but I will tell you anyway. Giles got married, that's the big news I guess. Her name's Jessica and she's a wonderful person. You would like her a lot. I dropped computing programming after my first year and returned to college. I took up law. I guess I had some ideals about continuing to fight evil but didn't think a cops uniform would go with my complexion. Listen to me, I sound like Cordelia. We still keep in touch - that's it really. Me, Giles, Cordelia. All I have left of Sunnydale. You know, in high school, during the last few years I thought what we had, the Scooby Gang had a timeless forever quality to it. I didn't expect to be here, now, and to have lost everything we had back then.

Cordy is, well, you wouldn't recognise her and I don't think its my place to say how she is. I told her I'm writing you. She respects that. I just don't
think she's ready. She trying too hard to put the past behind her. I hope she succeeds. Me, I just can't seem to let it go . . . its clings to me, you know.

Actually I guess you don't. You could give me some tips on letting go.

I better go now. I've got an important case I'm meant to be preparing for and then a dinner date to get ready for. You can write me or not.

I hope the letter finds you well. Good luck in the writing.
Love
Willow

3 March 2010
Dear Willow,

Wow, you're right. That seems weird to right. I'm sorry it took me so long to reply. I bet you had given up hope on me. But it seemed every word I wrote seemed wrong somehow. Me? The new big thing writer. Who can't write a word to his old friend.

I know its been a while. And I can see a lot has changed. Well, for me too. You asked if I was happy? Well I'm gonna talk in the terms we used to operate in. Am I alive? Yes. Then I am happy. She used to say, didn't she, that as long as you followed that first rule - Stay Alive - somehow, the rest would work out. It took a while but finally I proved her right.

Yeah, I'm writing. You wanna know how it started? As a way for me to vent my anger over my ex wife for divorcing me. Kinda dumb, I know. Then a friend read it and told me I should do this for real.

Since my wife's lawyer made my bank account pretty empty, I decided what did I have to loose? Everything just ran from there.

I have to say now, Willow, it was a surprise to see this letter. I had thought, after leaving like I did, you would never even want to think my name. You said you understood it. I don't think you do because I didn't even understand why I left. I just had to get away. That town, it trapped us in and put us through hell - literally - and I was so used to running for my life, I had to run away from everything that made it worth running for.

But I guess that is in the past now. A lot of mistakes and old ghosts we can finally bury. I hope you are happy too. I cannot imagine my little shy Willow a high powered lawyer. Do you still do magic? Do you still do the Snoopy Dance every Christmas? There are so many questions I have. I should of written you a long time ago, or called. Don't think I didn't want too. Not a day went by when I didn't imagine doing right that. I could just never get up the courage.

I missed you. I suppose that sums it up. I don't know if that makes the past 10 years forgivable, I'll just use my standard excuse. I'm a jerk. I'm sorry. Give my love to both Giles and Cordelia. Tell them I think of them. I hope one day I do get to meet Jessica. A hen-pecked Giles - that is a sight I want
to see.

And my love to you as well. You mentioned something
about a date? Are you seeing someone?

Lets keep in touch this time. And, Will, despite what you think - I never let go.
Love
Xander

31 March 2010
Dear Xander
Now I have to apologise. It was wonderful to hear from you but, well, life did that thing where it throws everything to you at once and expects you to deal. This is the first quiet moment I have had and I wanted to spend it writing to you.

Where do I begin? I'll answer you questions first. No, I don't still do magic. I don't believe it exists anymore. I know Giles still dabbles. I don't still do the Snoopy Dance. It just doesn't seem the same without you there. And, as for my date. His name is James. He's a journalist, actually and he got very excited when I mentioned you. He wants an exclusive interview about the rumor that your first book is being turned into a multi-million dollar production. He would not forgive me if I didn't at least ask.

He asked me to marry him. I earned a promotion for my success on my last case. And Cordy, well Cordy has a relapse. I had to stay with her. So that's why I haven't written.

I wish I had you to talk to about things. That was the only thing I was upset about when you left. Who would I talk too? Who would give me advice from the Y side of things? I had to cope on my own and, Xander, it was hard. But I did it. I did it my on my own.

You're divorced? Tell me about her. Tell me about everything. Its been so long. Would I recognise you if I saw you on the street? A very long time ago I could close my eyes and see, in my mind, a picture of you. Now, the picture is all fuzzy and hazy. And it fades each time I hold onto it too long.

I know this letter is not very long. It hard to sum up everything on a piece of paper. But I've just finished your last book and I have to say I was impressed. You really do have a talent Alexander Harris. It made me cry. You're heroine - Melissa - I saw a little bit of Buffy in her. I don't know if it was intentional. I know, I mean I knew, at the time, how you didn't even like it when I mentioned her name.

I have to go, again. I'm giving my answer to James tonight. And, Xand, I don't know what to say.
Love
Willow

PS You were not, and have never been a jerk.

4 April 2010
Dear Willow,

See, I am writing as soon as I finished the last word of you letter. I'm wondering, by now, have you got a ring sparkling on your finger? Did you say yes? Tell me about James. Tell him the rumors are true.

Tell him I would be happy to give him the exclusive. Get him to call my publishers.

Actually, I better be fair. I'll tell you about the so called love of my life. Her name was Alison. She was very beautiful - wouldn't settle for less, huh? She
was a nurse and she cared, almost as much as you did about everybody. Plus she had Buffy's fighting spirit. You could see it in her eyes. She would keep going for hours and never loose a smile for her patients.

Then she would come, exhausted, with no smiles left for me. Her job was her life. I was just the rest of it. But that didn't end us. I can't really say what
did, although we had lots of reasons which seemed so clear at the time. I just know, one night I lay in bed and knew I didn't love her enough. I loved who she was, I loved everything about her but it didn't make it right. It wasn't . . . right. Sorry, I used that word twice. Very bad writing form.

Did you notice? I said her name. Buffy. Buffy Anne Summers. It took only 2 years of very expensive therapy to be able to do that. Still, nothing can get me back to Sunnydale, however much I want to be able to lay flowers on her grave.

I can't believe you recognised Buffy in Melissa. I guess I did base her on our favorite Slayer, in some small way. Since I've got your first letter, Buffy, you, Cordelia - all of them, even Angel, are in my thoughts. You never told me about the rest of them. Angel, Oz, Riley, Wesley, Joyce - where they all ended up. I know its a little late to get curious but I am.

I enclose a photo. Its not the best one, but its me. Just so you don't have to close your eyes anymore.
Love
Xander

PS I did a little digging. About Cordelia. It seemed she made it big acting until about three years ago when she dropped out of the star circuit. Rumors said about alcoholism. I saw on your form you are in Washington State. I got my publisher to do a search. He found Cordelia Chase in a listing for a private ward, very expensive hospital. I have to ask, Will. I can't not.

16 April 2010
Dear Alexander Lavelle Harris

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss
Willow Rosenberg and Mr. James Bolton at
the grounds of Sunnydale Youth Park on July 27th 2010.
Please RSVP.

Willow Maria Rosenberg

PS You'd like the park. Its beautiful. Its on the grounds of the old high school. I really want you there.

Please come. Thank you for the photo. You look totally different but at the same time, completely familiar.

1 May 2010

Dear Madam,

On behalf of Mr. Alexander Harris, I regret he is unable to attend your wedding due to his imminent book tour. He, however, asks me to extend his best wishes and the gift enclosed with this
correspondence.

Yours Faithfully

11 November 2010

Dear Xander,

Well as you can see my boiling anger finally faded. It hurt me that you never came to my wedding. I mean, even James has got to meet you and talk to you, and I haven't even had a letter. His interview got him a lot of public acclaim - we are very grateful for that. Its not the only thing getting applauded, is it? I saw your film just last week, at the premiere. Did you know I was there? I saw you from a distance, surrounded by reporters. I never got the courage to come and talk to you.

Well, I am a married lady now. Who would of thought it?

I'm happy. Not just alive happy but sincerely and truly. And I made Judge. The Honorable Willow Bolton. It has a nice ring to it. I was looking back at your letters. You asked me about the rest. I will tell you what I know. Riley is happily married with two lovely children, a boy and a girl. Joyce is still in Sunnydale - she helps out at the local library. I talk to her occasionally. Oz is, well the last time I talked to him, he was in London, working with a Professor on, guess what, werewolves. Still searching for the cure. I wish he wouldn't, I wish he would just accept who he was. But, all these years and still he fights it.

You asked about Angel. I guess that means you don't know, even with your questions about Cordelia. Five months after Buffy's death, two after you had
left, Angel killed himself. He sat out in the sunlight. Cordelia found him just before dawn and she begged him to come inside. He just sat there. She tried to force him back in but Angel was determined. Life was not worth living for him anymore.

You should of seen Cordy after that, after he exploded just a couple of metres in front of her. She was a wreck. She put her brave face on and threw herself into acting. And she got better at it. And she lived faster, never talking about it until one night I found her almost blind drunk in her home, after some fabulous party crying about Angel, her poor lost friend. I never knew he meant so much to her - not in that way, but in an almost brother/sister way. She said he was her family.

I stayed with her that night. Got her coffee in the morning. In the afternoon we got her out of acting and into a detox centre. It hasn't been plain sailing since then, I wish I could say she has sorted herself out but at the wedding, I saw a sparkle of the old Cordy. She's getting there. We all are.

That's it, I guess. It feels good to write to you. I suppose asking you to come to Sunnydale was a bit much to ask, so soon. But Xander, for whatever it was to you for the last few years, it was our home for a lot more. It was the place where we met and played, where we cried and laughed. That town holds a deeper part of us than for all the rest, even Cordelia. It is and always will be my home, where-ever I end up in life. I just hoped you thought
the same because we used too, even when we disagreed, at some level, we thought the same. Wanted the same things. Felt the same things.

God, saying that, not even in my first year of marriage. What am I thinking? What I always thought of. You. Damn it Xander, I almost wish I had never written that first letter. Now I have no chance of letting you go.

Willow Bolton

25 December 2010
Dear Willow
Christmas Day alone. God, its not great I can tell you that. I mean, there are places I could of been, people I could of spent time with but it was just
empty. Why spent Christmas with people who mean so little to you? Christmas should be spent with the people who matter.

And you know what, my whole life, you are the only thing that mattered. It sounds both corny and hypocritical, considering what I did. That's why my marriage failed. That's why I never came to the wedding. In part, its why I left too. So why, considering the position I am in and the one you are in , do I feel the need to tell you that now.

Maybe its the eggnog. Maybe its the festive feeling. Maybe its . . . maybe it is a lot of things but, the thing about letting go, well you have to be able to
let go of the things inside you. And that is something I have carried for so long. I love you. Even now, still. It doesn't matter 10 years has gone by. I love you and always will.

So Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.
Its perhaps best if we don't write anymore. You know. Easier.
Xander

PS I knew you were at the premiere. I never saw you but I knew. Not just because I knew James was there but I knew, inside. You know?

2 January 2011

Best for who?! Jerk. Chicken. Coward. God, Xander, why did you do that? I was so furious at you, for writing those things. I loved you for 12 years of my life, through Cordelia, through Faith, through Inca mummies and stupid preying mantis teachers - and did I ever say it was too hard to be friends? Did I? No. Because in the way the friendship was more important than any other feelings.It was the centre of who we were.

And all you have to do is write a few words and you can't do that?
Coward.
I wasn't going to write, at all. I mean, things are going well with James, we are talking of having a family, why do I need you in my life. Its gone so well
without you.

Two things made me change my mind. Joyce phoned. She told me about the 12 red roses left on Buffy's grave. The caretaker there said the famous novelist Someone Harris left it there. You thought you could get away without anyone knowing it was you? Maybe no-one used to know you in Sunnydale but things change.

Second, Cordelia told me about the phone call. She had told me she didn't want anything to do with you, that it was too painful but after you called, you
know what she did? She took away the wine bottles hidden in the place I didn't even know about (and I know a lot about her hiding places) and threw them away. She brought herself a new suit too. Applied for a job as a secretary. She got it straight away, someone had given her a recommendation. They never said who.

I knew. So did she.

How can you do those wonderful things, Xander, and do this to me? I don't care how hard it is. I don't care if it hurts you. Just . . . talk to me. I said in my first letter all I wanted was for you to be happy. Well, all I ever wanted for myself was you in my life. In some small way. I thought when you wrote back that first time I had finally got my wish.
Yours, with love
Willow

15 January 2011
Dear Willow

My new years resolution. Write to my best friend. I mean, she didn't leave me much of a choice, now did she? I spoke to Cordelia the other day. She suggested I come down and visit.

Willow, don't be mad. I'm not ready. I'm working on a new book. I think you will like it. I think it will be my best work yet. Well, things are really happening in your life? I've heard on the circuit that James is up for an award. Good for him. And, you, my little Will, I heard your name on the news in relation to a big murder case. Its certainly getting a lot of press attention. And you're judging it? Wow. Do you wear a wig?

Okay, I know you don't. It was just a funny mental image. But I saw you there on the news. First time I had. Strange that, huh? You never sent a picture back. So it was a shock. You looked - older. Taller. Wiser. You looked - beautiful covers it, I think. I saw there the woman you had started to become in college, confident and smart and funny - back then, I didn't like that Willow because I didn't know her. But then I had yet to learn that superficial things don't matter. A new hairstyle, a head held high walk - it doesn't change who we are inside. The beautiful woman you are now, well its the woman you always were. Inside. And you are right. Inside we are friends. And as your friend, well you said it best. All I have to want is for you to be happy. Its why I am writing. To wish you and James that happiness. I know I never made it to the wedding. But I'll make it back to you some day.

Love

Xander

7 February 2011
Dear Xander

It was good to hear from you. This trial is lasting far longer than I ever imagined. You mentioned you heard about it on the news? Does that mean you know the details? This man has killed so many people, I think the total we have at the moment is 11 - 11 innocent people, Xand - yet we don't have any concrete evidence even with all the tools we have at our disposal. DNA testing, crime scene reproduction. All of it. And yet he can sit in his chair, cold eyes looking smugly at me, and know that at the moment, in the eyes of the law, he will be a free man. I sit in that courtroom and feel a chill if I just look his way.

I remember when the monsters we faced were demonic in nature and it was so much easier. There was no humanity in them. There was a solace in that. I
could sleep at night knowing we were the better species, that humanity, it couldn't be doing so bad, if we were not like them. But I realise now the
blood and death, it was in the demons natures, hunger was all they were following - sure, some got an extra kick out of it but most were just, hungry. To kill so cruelly and to still have the human soul, that is a truly terrible crime.

I hate sleeping at night now. You know what I dream? This man, he is stalking me, leaving flowers at my house, sketching me while I sleep - all those terrible things Buffy must of endured at the hands of Angelus. And though it is only in my sleep, when I wake, it stays with me. James tries to comfort me, but he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand about evil.

Not as we do.

I talked to Giles. He says I never dealt with what we went through as teenagers and my subconscious is dragging up the past now. Its like very post traumatic syndrome. I hate it. I want this man punished, not just by a prison sentence. I want an eye for an eye. James just wants it to be over. He doesn't understand.

Love
Willow

18 February 2011
Dear Willow

I watch the news every day now, hoping to catch a glimpse of a piece about your trial. After your letter I read everything I could about it. I wanted to give you that understanding. I couldn't, not from those things.

So you know what I did? I got out my yearbook and sat and looked at it. I remembered. I let myself remember for the first time in so long. I know what
you mean. We fought evil, and however terrible it was, it was so clear cut. Good. Evil. Wrong. Right. Everything was so black and white. But what you are facing now, isn't. I mean, yes this man is evil, no doubting that but the situation around is grey. Should it be a life for a life? We killed demons quite easily. No conscience necessary.

And this man, you are reacting with that teenager Willows reaction. Find an evil, slay the evil. So simple. But we exist in a world without such absolutes. We cannot go down the path they did. Any judgement placed on this man cannot be as bad as the action he himself committed. Whether he goes to prison, or walks away, he will find his punishment Willow. If not now, then later. The universe is all about balance. I never thought it was. I thought, how unfair, hundreds of vampires in the world, and the universe only creates one Slayer to fight it.

But Buffy she was worth not just hundreds of vampires, but millions of them. There was a balance.

He will get what he deserves. Have that faith. I have that faith in you. You deserve so much Willow, for everything you have been through. It had
given you the strength to get through this. You were always the strong one, even when I thought I had to protect you. I cannot count the times you
save me from myself. Just with a smile. A single smile. If I know now, as you read this, you are smiling, I will not worry so much about you. As much. Every day I worry for you. About you.

Be safe, Willow.
Love
Xander

PS The book is going so well. I'm going to be finished way ahead of deadline. It is . . . a factual fiction except no-one else will know it.

28 February 2011
Dear Xander

Do you want the good news or the bad news? The bad news, you might of have heard, he got off. He walked away, without even a few measly months in jail. I would of lost it Xander, I would of, but every time I felt like screaming in fury at the injustice of it, I read your letter. And it got me through. James saw this letter in the post. He didn't look happy. He knows - that you're words game me more comfort than his embraces and kisses did. It tears him up inside and I don't know what to say, I don't even know if I want to say anything . . .

But the good news. There is some in my life. I'm pregnant. Three months, well, almost four now. And I feel great - if you can call puking every morning great. I can feel a life inside me, its wonderful. I have never been so happy, Xand. Or Cordy. I think she has already brought out the baby
department of Bloomindales. And did I tell you? She's seeing someone. She's in love and there's a glow in her cheeks again. Its wonderful to see.
So everything should be okay. Except he is still in the back of my mind. I have persuaded the police to keep the case open. They will continue to investigate it.

But I must do something more. He did it Xander, you would know too. He has that look, the one I saw in Angels eyes that dark night, a long time ago as he held me and threatened to kill me, just to taunt Buffy.

I haven't told anyone. Not James, not Giles. But you. I'm going to do a spell. Just a simple one, you know. I'm going to cast a truth spell on him. A signed confession will certainly reopen the case. Then I will sleep. I think it will be a girl. I think you know what I want to call her.

Love
Willow

11 March, 2011

Willow,

Be careful. God I cannot stress that so much. Be careful. You have not done magic in so long and this man, if he killed 11 people - be careful.
I cried when I finished your last letter. I cannot tell if it was in pure fear for you, or simple happiness or you. A child, Willow - she will be so beautiful,
just like her mother. I can't wait to see her.

Tell Giles. Tell him about the spell. I know you were probably wearing resolve face while writing but you shouldn't do it on your own. And Giles, he was always there for us, when we needed him. I have to go now. I am on the last chapter. But, Will, I made a decision. The trouble is, I don't know if it is the right one. I know now leaving was the wrong one. But what about coming home? I don't know, I just know, that it is something I have to do. I can't go through any more days of my life without seeing you. Words aren't enough.

I'm coming home, Will. You said Sunnydale would always be home to you. But never to me. Where-ever you are, that's home. See you soon. All my love, forever

Xander

24 March 2011

Dear Alexander,

Perhaps you remember me. Certainly I know you. My name is James Bolton. Though we have met several times, in relation to your work, we have never really talked about your relationship with my wife. When I asked her about you, she replied simply 'He was everything'. Though I took comfort in the use of past tense, I was always slightly unsure if her feelings for you were still very much in the present.

It is for these reasons I am writing to you now. In the early hours of this morning Willow Maria Bolton was pronounced dead. Killed. Murdered. The police think . . . they say it was in relation to the case she was working on. She was found in the house of the man she had recently trialed. Her throat was slit.

I don't know why she was there. I don't know why she did it. I don't know what I will do without her. She was the light in my life and not only did I loose her, I lost something just as precious. Our child. Cordelia, she said she would phone you with the funeral details. Right now, I can't even think of
tomorrow, let alone the funeral . . . The police found something in her pocket. They gave it to me but it was meant for you. It was a letter. I
include it here . . .

Yours sincerely
James

23 March 2011
Dear Xander,

When are you coming? I feel almost like a child waiting anxiously Christmas Eve for Santa to arrive. I can't wait for you to get here, to actually be able to
hug you again, to hear your laugh . . . suddenly the world doesn't seem so bad anymore. If you are in it, I shall be able to raise my child without doubting the world I am about to bring her into. I know you wanted me to talk to Giles but even he would not understand. I have to do this. I have to let my child come into a world where monsters like that man don't exist.

Oh, and one more thing. I love you too. I'm counting the days, Xand. And I can't wait to read your new book. Are any of the characters based on me?

Love
Willow

3 June 2011

Dear Willow,

I once talked about a balance. A balance in the world of good against evil. I thought with your death I would loose all faith, all will to live but, in some small way, the pain and the tears of the last few days have made something much more clearer to me.

How much I love you. How much we were meant to be. And you know, everything we went through, we still survived. The universe threw everything it could at us and yet our love remained as strong. Balance demands, when next we meet, for all the bad, all we will get is good. The next time I see you I will take you in my arms and never let you go. We're gonna have an eternity of bliss, Will. So until next time, my love . . .

Alexander Lavelle Harris.

PS The book is finished. My publisher already believes it will be a hit - he used the words 'best-selling book of all time'. But the numbers don't matter to me. The level of sales mean nothing. I wrote the book for you, about you, about all of us . . . I told our story, Will. The story of how we grew up. About Buffy Summers, about Daniel Osbourne and Cordelia Chase. And I may of changed the names, and the world may not believe that the vampires and demons are nothing more than a figment of my imagination but I know. And that's enough. I hope one day you get to read the dedication . . .

Alexander Harris knelt slowly as he placed the envelope down. Tied carefully round the letter was a silver string and tucked inside that, a single red rose. He placed it on the grave and slowly traced the gold inscription with his finger

"Goodbye Will" he whispered and a single tear splashed down and hit the muddy ground beneath him. He stood up, dusted off his trousers and pulled a book out his jacket pocket. THE SCOOBY GANG. The publisher had not liked the title - not catchy enough but he had said it was either that title or no book and the publisher had soon backed down. He opened the book to the front page. Written simply in the middle of the white sheet, the book said . . .

To Willow,
The last words I write to you. This is for you as I am, always . . .

He shut the book, turned on his heel and walked out the cemetery.

The End