Letter From Spike:

Hey. It’s me. Remember me? Well I’m trying pretty damned hard not to. I wish that cheap alcohol would work its magic, but blood runs a little deeper. At least for me. Obviously not for you. It’s amazing how easy it’s been for you to erase the past. Wrap it up in the tidy little package of “It was him not me”. Well fuck that and fuck you. I’ve got a bottle of Old Crow and a hole where my beating heart should be that say otherwise.

And who am I supposed to tell this to? Dru? Mad bitch Cassandra that you made her, is off wandering in Bolivia with some slimy git. Fuck her too. She’s yours. Always was. You just let me borrow her then stole her back first chance you got. Sires’ right. You remembered that much when you got your balls back in Sunnyhell. Didn’t seem to recall much else. Couldn’t focus on anything beyond your cock up my dark Princess’s twat, and whatever twisted bit of fuck-all you felt for the Slayer.

You sure as hell didn’t see me. Roller boy. How could you, you great gormless git? I thought I finally had you back. A hundred years of waiting. Shot to hell over some bit of blonde fluff. Fuck you again.

And fuck me.

Because what was I waiting for? Some great bit of fiction that I remembered? A red mouth burrowed into my neck, breathing “Luscious lad.” And meaning it? The demon soul I thought I possessed as surely as you owned me? Poetic rot, and I know it. Cor, I’m a twit for still shedding tears in my own dank crypt over that ghost.

Smear of blood across my hand.

But I was yours. Wherever and whenever you fancied it. And you did. Can’t deny that bit, can you? When I’d finally bend, call you “Sire.” Nothing made you harder than that did it?

Excuse me… made him harder. Mustn’t confuse my prepositions now. Might bother that sorry soul of yours. And you are sorry. Can see it every time you ever looked at me. Sorry you made me. Made this monster you used to fuck like your life depended on it.

Would it irk you or guilt you to know I still get hard thinking about the way you used to take me? All strong and soft at the same time. Tearing into me cock and fangs while you whispered and whimpered in my ear that I was your boy. Yours. Only yours. It was only me.

Stupid great idiots. Both of us. You for denying it ever happened, and me for remembering. Lying in your bed. Debauched. Tousled. Panting. Every inch of me mapped by your mouth… tattooed… .owned. And you laughing and loving me for all of it.

And you did. You ruddy well did, you wanker. I remember. Sod it all… it’s all I’ve got, isn’t it?

You made sure of that. Got yourself that shiny soul and crawled away. Left me to deal with what was left. To pick up the bits.

You were my Sire! I care sod all about some gypsy curse… .it’s still you and I know it! Sorry old son, but I still see it in your soulful eyes. You recognize me for what I am. Yours.

And it sickens you. Don’t think that doesn’t tear me apart inside. Don’t imagine for a moment that what you are now doesn’t rip me a new one every time I hear her say your name with what she thinks is love.

Little bird doesn’t know her Angel, does she? It wasn’t her body; it wasn’t the shag itself, was it? It was that elusive ideal that you could just be human again. And you believed crawling up a virgin’s knickers with gentle words could give you peace. You sad sap. Being human wasn’t enough for you when you were Liam… how could you expect to recapture that now? In this body?

I’ll never send this letter you know. So I can say whatever I want. Write all the things I should have been able to say to your face through the centuries. You promised that you know, you wanker. And I’m the ass that believed you.

Believed I’d always be the one in your heart. In your bed. That huge body of yours always thrusting above me. Those fingers wrapped around me. Sure. It was understood. My Sire. Always. Those talks that went on forever after the fucking. Well past the dawn slanting through heavy curtains. Yeah. Forever’s a lot shorter than you lead me to believe, Peaches. Should’ve warned a bloke.

But you didn’t. Promised me between blood-laced kisses that I’d always have you. And I hate you for that most of all. Because I just wasn’t ready. Too young… although a hundred years hasn’t made it any easier.

No simpler to grasp that half of me is gone. Vanished from the face of the earth but for that bit of flesh still walking it with the wrong face. And again I ask, because I’m a repetitive bastard when I’ve been at the bottle this long, who the bloody fuck am I supposed to tell this to?

Certainly not you. Because you’d just look at me with those… those eyes that used to bleed right through me. And you wouldn’t see a damn thing. Except an animal that some part of you created. A part you deny. My part.

Well, wakey wakey, Sunshine. I’m tired of mourning. Tired of waiting. Gonna take back a bit of my own.

You can’t feel what I feel? Fine. I can deal with that. But you know what? You left a bit of something in this godforsaken town. And while it isn’t you and nowhere close to what I had, it’s as near as I am gonna get. It’s powerful. It’s dark. And it rakes its’ nails down my back while it fucks me hard. No soft whispers with this one. And that’s all right. I wouldn’t know what to do with love if it came up to me and bit me on the ass. But I remember the words. I know what she wants to hear. I can give her that, and I get a little piece of you.

Does that get you somewhere? Hit close to home? Good. Means you get a little of my pain. Enjoy it… .I know I will.

With love,

William

Because even though you never bothered to ask… I’m still here.

Letter From Angel:

Hello William,

It’s been almost two months since I last wrote. But don’t think for a moment I haven’t been thinking of you. If you knew how images of you constantly flood my brain you’d laugh your ass off. I suspect you do anyway. Laugh at me.

By God, I own you and I can’t even touch you except in rage. Which explains the distance. Just enough. And it’s always been like that, but you never knew. You’re not supposed to know, and you won’t. So this note will just get tucked away with all the others… some of them almost yellow with age.

Letters written all over the world. Because I was there. Wherever you were. At first I tried to come back, but Darla knew… you knew. Could see the disgust in your eyes; that luscious mouth curled in a sneer. Slayer’s blood, and I should have been sucking it off your lips, not your dark princess. So after that, you didn’t see me.

Your very own stalker, boy. You should be proud. No, you should be scared.

Because I’m not watching out for you, I’m just watching.

You know I’ve seen you. With her. She’s not an easy one, is she, boy? You think you’re stealing something from me by doing this, don’t you? You’re wrong. She’s going to hurt you. She’s going to wrap your insides into so many knots that you will pray for daylight. I know. I’ve been there.

And when she does rip your heart out with those tiny hands, I’ll be standing in the shadows just drinking in your pain. Because I owe you that, don’t I?

I came back, you little fuck. I came back to your Factory, and you turned away from me. Pulled Dru into your lap and turned away from me! I had to punish you for never being what you were supposed to be. Mine.

Do you have any idea what you do to me? The very thought of you, of your naked body writhing under mine, of your voice calling out to me. The desire to just sit with you again, look at your face and have enough control to just… speak. It’s too much. You are the one thing that makes my life unbearable.

I would be able to do this so easily if not for you. My place in this world is more or less defined; I know what I have to do. I know I have to feel sorry for every thing I ever did, every human I ever killed. And the soul makes it easier to do just that. To loathe everything I once was and cringe at the memories.

Except you.

You were the one most perfect thing my demon ever did. You are the one thing I want and can’t have. And the want has become so twisted with everything I despise about myself that I’m afraid. For you. Because if I get close enough to you again. Near enough to touch. Tear. Rend. Bleed. Kiss. I’m not sure which one I’ll choose. Or if I’ll choose just one.

You were my boy. My home. And it’s killing me that I want that back. That my desire for you makes me into more of a monster than I already am. That as long as I am on this earth I will love you, and crave the same from you… and I will never ever have that again.

So I go on saving everyone but myself. Sneak off like a pervert and watch you in coveted moments. I’m tired of being alone. Exhausted, trying to explain myself to children who will never understand what you once did.

If you knew that I was still here… The one who made you. The one who owns you.

Angelus