Day 138. Willow is turning into a real powerhouse. You should see her. She directs us like an orchestra conductor, calling us with her mind, telling us where we need to go. She "doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus", or at least the top of the mausoleum. Don't know what we'd do without her. Probably bump into each other a lot. (At least, they would).

Giles and I get on surprisingly well. It's good to have another Brit about. Oh, we banter a bit, and wouldn't admit it, but we have more in common than either of us would've guessed.

Harris and the demon argue too much. Something's up, there. I've caught her crying a few times. Don't like it.

And Dawn. She's the one that's getting me through. I drank too much, at first, but I haven't touched a bottle in weeks. Got to stay sober for the Little Bit. It's too much for her—first Joyce, now you. We miss you most of all, so we have that. She's getting right good at poker.

The witches are living there, so at least there's always someone about.

I thought of a new way today. You wouldn't like it, but if I'd fed off you or Dawn before, your blood would have been mine. I could have jumped. You'd still be here for her. No one would miss me. 'Spect I'd fit right in, in hell.

It kills me anyway, thinking of what you might be going through.

Talk to you tomorrow. Miss you.

*******

Buffy dropped Spike's diary on the ground. She cried.

The End