*****

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 her. 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.

What would it change if you knew that I was still here. The one who made you. The one who owns you.

Angelus