Angel opened his mailbox and peered into it, only to find several pieces of junk-mail from several psychics. He had no idea where they had gotten his address from, but he wouldn't be surprised if his vampire 'friends' in the community had something to do with it. He'd long since proven that none of them could beat him in a fight, so they contented themselves in simply annoying him.
Walking up the steps that lead to his new house, he threw the junk mail into a garbage pail then suddenly froze when he noticed the return address on one of the envelopes. It was from Rupert Giles, someone he hadn't heard from in over thirty years. Angel was slightly surprised the man was still alive, considering his occupation.
He held off on his curiosity until he was inside, then he sat down, turned on the television, and opened the letter. Inside was a handwritten note, and he began to read it slowly.
Angel,
It took quite some work to track you down. Luckily old patterns remained, I should have thought to ask the Slayer's watcher, I guess it just didn't cross my mind. I'm aware that it's been quite awhile since we conversed, but there are things which need to be explained. Thirty years . . . that's long enough to wait for the truth. The school has closed, as you probably already know, but I can think of no better place for explanations. Willow, Xander and Cordelia will no doubt be there, and I'm sure you want answers to your questions as much as they do. If you are interested in knowing the truth, as I'm sure you are, please come to the Library of the old school at eight p.m. on Saturday. I expect to see you then.
Sincerely,
Rupert Giles
Angel re-read the letter several times and his eyes narrowed. So Giles was offering to share the truth with him and the others. Angel had known at the time Giles was hiding something, but he hadn't really cared much, he was more concerned with Buffy's death, and the overwhelming grief that had come after. Though thirty years seperated those events from now just the thought of her made it seem as though all of it had happened yesterday. With a sigh, he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket, knowing with certainty that no matter how uncomfortable it would be he would go.
* * *
"Hunny! Did you get the mail?" Willow called out to her seventeen year old daughter, Cindy Harris.
"Yup, here," Cindy replied, tossing the mail on her mother's lap. "Can I go out tonight?" she asked, a pleading note to her voice.
Willow gave her a suspicious look. "Where?"
"Mike's . . . it's not what you think, really, he's having a party and he invited me. I swear we're not doing anything bad . . . "
Willow rolled her eyes slightly heavenward. Her seventeen year old daughter really did think she was stupid. While it upset her greatly to know her daughter was having sex at such a young age, it also amused her as to what lengths Cindy would go to hide anything she thought her parents would disapprove of. "Go ahead, Cindy, I don't mind," Willow told her.
"Thanks, Mom," Cindy said, then immediately ran upstairs to go work on her hair and make-up. Willow shook her head and smiled, Cindy was so unlike how she'd been at her age. In fact, Cindy reminded Willow a great deal of Buffy Summers, always jumping headfirst into things and worrying about the consequences later.
Just as the thought of the vampire slayer crossed her mind she looked down at the envelopes her daughter had tossed to her. When she saw the return address on one of them she smiled slightly. Giles. She and the watcher had kept in touch throughout the years, at least three to four letters a year, and one or two phone calls. Still smiling, she opened the letter and began to read.
Willow,
I wish I could say that this was purely a social letter, but it's not. It has been thirty years since the . . . incident . . . that caused Buffy's death. I feel as though enough time has passed that I can give everyone involved an explanation, one that you all deserved long ago. I'm aware that it would mean driving a few miles, but I could think of no better place for this conversation than the library of Sunnydale High, which, in case you didn't already know, is closed. Angel will most likely be there, as will Cordelia. It's well past time for you all to learn the truth, and no one else knows it but me. There have been enough secrets. If you can make it I expect to see you Saturday at 8pm.
Sincerely,
Rupert Giles
Willow's eyes widened as she read the letter. Angel, Cordelia . . . the library of their old school . . . it felt as though it were a dream. Saturday was only two days away, if they left that night they'd just make it in time. It felt like hours until her husband came home from work.
"Xander!" Wilow called, waiting for him to come into the living room.
"What's up?" he asked, walking in and sitting down across from her. She handed him Giles' letter and let him read it. His eyes also widened in a similar reaction to hers. "Do you want to . . . ?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Of course," she replied. "Don't you?" Xander nodded. "I'm sure Cindy would be thrilled to spend a few days with Buffy, in any case," she added, referring to their twenty-four year old daughter.
"Call her," Xander confirmed. "I'll take tomorrow off from work and we'll leave."
Willow let out an almost audible sigh of relief. She'd known he would want to go, but somehow she felt better hearing him say so. She turned and headed for the stairs.
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