Greetings, Angel

Series: Letters to Sunnydale 3

Author: Sileya

Email: sileya@yahoo.com

Pairing: X/S; W/A; B/G

Rating: PG

Feedback: Please.

Archiving: My home site (http://www.sileya.com), list archives. All else ask.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Darn.

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Greetings, Angel.

It is with some hesitation that I take pen in hand to write to you and broach topics that perhaps would better be left alone.

However, I find that events in my life are turning inexorably toward forbidden, or actually formerly forbidden, ground. I cannot help but think that some sort of explanation or closure may come from a discourse with you.

First of all, I'll apologize for being too cowardly to call you outright. As you know, and I must say that this is quite humiliating to admit, I find it terrificly difficult to separate you and your actions from those of Angelus.

However, despite the impact of HIS actions, I find that time does indeed dull some memories, and it is not so difficult now to think or you as a comrade-in- arms.

Amazed, are you?

I bloody well am.

So, precisely, my reason for writing is to discuss someone we have in common. Buffy, that is.

Cordelia tells me that the mention of Buffy is enough to send you into days of brooding, and that, of course, is your prerogative. However, I feel I must broach this matter as Cordelia also tells me she believes you harbor some feeling for Buffy in your heart.

Buffy, however, claims differently.

In what manner she was treated during her last visit to L.A. is no business of mine, but she does say that you have moved on and she has no problem with it. And of course, until recently, she had her Riley Finn.

I heard that some time ago you and Finn came to fisticuffs.

Bravo, if I may say.

From the very beginning, I knew it would not last, but who am I to come in the way of Buffy's happiness? There was nothing wrong with the boy. Just far too clean-cut, for my taste, far too tame, far too much the "white hat" – not that I would ever say so in front of the children.

Children. They're not, anymore, and yet for some of them I feel that fatherly pride and devotion.

Xander is the son I never had. I'm pleased to see him succeeding in the carpentry business, and I still harbor a hidden hope that he may take an interest in my business. Not the Magic Shop, mind you.

Xander would be quite the coup to send off to England - raise a few eyebrows. Perhaps show them what life in the 21st century is like, rather than the dreary 18th-century manner in which I and my comrades, Wesley among them, were trained.

I wonder, if you know, and it is perhaps not my place to say, not that I would engage in idle gossip, mind you, but did you know that Spike is rather taken with Xander?

I don't know if anything has or will come of it, but ever since I booted Spike out of my apartment and into Xander's basement, they've been thick comrades, even conspiring to make off with my telly, as a prank, at one point. I suspect Spike was in need of a Passions fix.

When they are here, with the rest of the group, Spike watches Xander constantly. And he's much quieter, shockingly enough. Xander, that is. Always watching Spike, unless I remind him to turn the pages in the book he's perusing. And Spike has taken Xander's side in no less than three arguments, in the last of which Anya accused Xander of cheating on her with another woman.

Poor chap didn't have the knackers to tell her it was with another man.

Of course, I'm not sure I would have done differently, in his place, when faced with Anya's wrath.

Perhaps you might break the topic with your Childe, and inquire? I'm not sure how to go about it myself, and Xander does seem rather content lately, so I'm not too bothered. I would imagine he talks to Willow about it.

Willow. What a joy, and bright spark of life in my (until recently) rather dry existence. She has such a capacity to love ... I'm sure you know.

I do expect that you're making no plans to remove that spark anytime soon? That would indeed be tragic, for I would have to rip into your bloody arse once and for all - were that horrendous event to come to pass. Buffy tells me I'm rather manly with a chainsaw.

Not to come off as the heavy-handed father figure, but I do expect you to do right by Willow. She deserves no less, and I must concede strong reservations to the two of you taking up, no matter how childishly Buffy behaved.

Ah. I have strayed from my course.

Buffy, once again. I feel I must intrude on your personal business and inquire. I somehow cannot believe that you would mate with Willow while still loving Buffy, but I must know.

For what reason, you ask? Besides an old man's nosiness?

Because I have never, and will never, love Buffy with a father's love.

Is that enough for you?

I find it amusing, because you perhaps, are one of the few who would not scoff at our age difference. And you are perhaps the last person I would have thought to be telling.

And perhaps you love her, with a pure, shining soul's love, because we all know what the consummation of that love would mean.

But I don't love her in that manner. Not at all.

What I feel for Buffy burns like hellfire.

It torches and rends my insides until I shake with the pain and injustice of it all. Is that what Hell feels like? The eternal temptation? The edge of damnation?

It hurts enough to kill me, but that the one thing in all this world worth living for is her. That my life turns on her very breaths, and my heart leaps at her only casual glance.

So I must know your feelings, for now that Finn is gone, this may be my final chance.

Sincerely,

Rupert Giles
 

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