Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Dear Angelus,
How I wish I could see the look on your face right now, as you slowly recognise this handwriting. That's right. It's me. Your old pal William, a.k.a. Spike, ex-gang leader and self-confessed anarchist of the vampiric world.
I know it's a bit of a first, me dropping you a line as it were, but I've got some time to kill and a few questions I think you may be supremely qualified to answer.
Question 1:
After having your soul restored did you find yourself suffering from either dry-mouth or night-blindness? I only ask because, having recently reacquired my own, I find my vision in the dark somewhat blurry, which tends to affect my ability to drive a hire-car to Buffy's house when she calls me late at night and asks me to come over. The dry-mouth then also becomes a significant factor, or so she tells me.
Question 2:
Ever find yourself starting awake at night out of a sound sleep, from a dream filled with visions of the horror and mayhem you created for the past century and a half? The visions aren't bothering me particularly, it's just that it tends to wake Buffy who, let's face it, gets little enough sleep with me around anyway. Any homespun remedies for this? I'm thinking hot milk and fennel may do the trick.
Question 3:
On the one occasion that you had extremely quick and unfulfilling sex with my girlfriend, did you find that your soul immediately vacated your body or was there a period of respite during which you could enjoy the one extremely short memory of your only sexual encounter with her? Are you able to remember at all? I worry about this one constantly because, despite our hugely pleasurable sessions that sometimes last for six hours at a time, I have yet to experience any kind of unpleasant side-effects and I worry that these are still to come. Rest assured though, I shall continue to push the envelope.
I await your response,
your friend,
William Fortescue
a.k.a Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
Very much enjoyed your little stab at fantasy fiction.
Next time though, why not try writing on a topic your a little more familiar with. Perhaps a period romance based on the hilarious, bumbling antics of a dim-witted nineteeth century fop, who writes bad poetry and spends his every waking minute mooning over women in a social class far above him? That should have them rolling in the aisles.
Give my regards to Buffy, if she'll let you close enough,
Angel
* * * * * * * * *
Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Dear Angelus,
I'm terribly sorry if I hit a nerve with my last letter.
Perhaps I should have let Buffy tell you the glad tidings herself, but she seems strangely reluctant to let you know how things are back home in good old Sunny D. I think that maybe she's a little uncomfortable trying to explain how she's finally found happiness with the only other member of your 'exclusive' club.
I told her not to worry and that you'd see the irony. After all, we're all good friends here and we both know that you only want her happiness. Believe me when I say that she really couldn't be any happier.
Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
Just to let you know that your letters really brighten up our days here. Cordy read the last one aloud to everyone yesterday while we were having coffee and we all just laughed and laughed. Gunn says that you should seriously consider submitting them to the Readers Digest.
Angel
* * * * * * * * *
Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Angelus,
Glad to hear I'm bringing a little sunshine into the House Of Pain.
I took your last letter over to Chez Summers last night to show Buffy but completely forgot about it when she dragged me into the shower fully clothed and forced me to have rough, gratuitous sex with her for upward of an hour. After that it just slipped my mind. Besides I think the ink ran. Perhaps you should use indelible in future, just in case?
Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
you just crack me up. You always have.
Like that time you took on that fat French guy who turned out to be one of the original three musketeers and he kicked your ass all over Paris for four days? You were such a good sport even then, letting him win like that by skewering your intestines. Or that time in Prague, when you ate that famous playwright who turned out to be dying of raging syphilis and then you had to spent the next two weeks letting Dru put salve on your penis. Did you tell Buffy that one?
Angel
* * * * * * * * *
Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Angelus,
Great that you still remember the good old days so fondly.
On your insistence I shared some tales of our heyday with Buffy, after a particularly vigorous session last night. She particularly enjoyed the one about your brief flirtation with the 'Theatre of Vampyres' in Constantinople. I told her how your rendition of Hamlet brought the house to it's feet and then, shortly afterwards, stampeding to the exits.
Also, she wants to know if you're still into opera?
Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
This is really starting to become a bit of a habit isn't it? Every Tuesday another witty missive etched in your almost indescipherably, childish hand. Still, nobody here is complaining. Fred has put up a cork board in reception so the clients can also enjoy your work.
For your information, I still enjoy the opera. Lorne suggests that my vocal chords may have been damaged during the great fire of London, so singing these days is out of the question. It made me smile though to think that you'd assume I'd be irritated by your reference to my ambitions regarding 'Madame Butterfly'. We were all so much younger then, and you were immeasurably more amusing. Besides which I seem to remember Dru thoroughly enjoying my version of 'Your Little Hands...', although I don't believe you were there to witness her private expression of adulation. Too busy contracting hideously scarring venereal diseases in the red light district, I seem to recall.
Angel
* * * * * * * * *
Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Angelus,
Another one for your montage.
You're quite right of course. We were so much younger then and you had yet to discover the magic of styling products, relying instead of the old tried and traditional recipe of rendered goose fat to tame your attractively luxuriant locks. Remember that time you ran out, and you had Dru and Darla running all over Peking trying to find a substitute? I bet you drop to your knees and thank your Lord God L'Oreal nightly these days.
Giles tells me that you've put on a little weight. Fatherhood must be suiting you. Or maybe it's the massive amounts of your new-born offspring's blood you imbibed earlier this year. Toddlers can be so calorific.
Let me know if your having any problems with the all-new teenage version. I'm happy to say that Buff and I seem to be making a stand-up job of raising Dawn between the two of us.
Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
Glad to hear you're gaining so much pleasure from your pseudo-parenting exercise. It's good to have a hobby. It's such a pity that you'll never produce children of your own, what with the whole permanent and irreversible sterility thing.
How does Buffy feel about that by the way? In theory anyway? Perhaps it's something you should discuss with her at length, in your head. Because I seem to remember a big family being a major factor in her future happiness. Perhaps when the time comes you could let me help you out?
Angel
* * * * * * * * *
Room 504,
The Ramada Inn,
Route 46,
Sunnydale,
CALIFORNIA
Angelus,
Thanks for your kind and unselfish offer but we've already discussed this at length and Buffy feels that a child, even an adopted one, would take precious time away from the marathon sex sessions which are so important to us. Also neither of us are keen on the whole idea of stretch marks. We'll just have to try and live vicariously through the others like yourself, who are making such an excellent job of the whole father/patracidal son thing.
Spike
* * * * * * * * *
Hyperion Hotel,
Hollywood,
Los Angeles
CALIFORNIA
Spike,
I'm afraid I'll have to sign off for a while old buddy.
Connor and I are going to be spending the next week or so away, catching up on lost time so I won't have the copious free time to reply to your banter that I'd like. Hope Sunnydale is treating you well and that you're not starting to feel a little claustrophobic cooped up in that tiny depressing hotel rooms all day and night watching cable porn and scribbling delusional fiction.
I send you a postcard from the mountains,
Angel