Dear Spike
Very short. My poor Spike.
Dear Spike,
I’m forwarding this through
Willie. I’m assuming he can get in
touch with you. Some things I need to
say. Want to say.
I heard through the
grapevine about the soul. Don’t know
how it happened, but I do know how it hurts.
Believe me, I know. Guess it’s
just you and me. I may not be so unique
anymore, but then I don’t feel so alone, either. Use it well. If you can.
Hard to think of you that
way. Known you too long.
Man, this is hard. I can’t tell anyone here. But it cuts like a knife.
I found out something. Found out my own spawn has been screwing the
woman I love. Part of me wants to be
forgiving, understand there were extenuating circumstances. Let it go.
The bigger part of me wants
to rip his head off with my bare hands.
Hell, this isn’t
working. I’m going to come and talk to
you about it in person.
Notice any signs of the
apocalypse lately?
Angel
Spike read the letter with trembling hands. Weren’t things bad enough?
“Bloody buggering hell. Angelus is coming to kill me.”