This story was originally written for the Dead Letters Home challenge


in which characters from Buffy are allowed to send one final letter at the point of or after death.
All characters are the property of their respective creators.


...Or May I Call You Buffy?

By Marcus L. Rowland


My Dear Miss Summers

Or may I call you 'Buffy'?

You will probably be surprised to see this letter, especially its postmark. Yes, Hell does have a postal service, although one must pay an arm and a leg for even the smallest letter. Don't worry, they didn't belong to anyone you know. Usually the facility is not available to inmates, but I have found that the authorities here do seem to go out of their way to help their more frequent visitors.

My main reason for writing is to assure you that I bear you no ill-will for the manner of my dismissal to this dreary realm. I have no doubt that I let my ardour overcome my sensitivity to the needs of others. Our relationship was a flower which should have been given more time to blossom and reach fruition; by rushing things I fear that I repelled you.

It seems odd that I, the most gentle of suitors, should have this effect on you. From my unusual perspective much that is concealed on Earth becomes clear, and it seems apparent that your choices have for the most part been much worse than I. For example, I don't believe that I have ever attempted to destroy the world, nor have I ever gone out of my way to kill a Slayer (although regrettably there have been instances where it has been unavoidable). I don't think that I have even left any woman of my acquaintanceship inconsolate after a "one-night stand", as you Americans so quaintly put it.

Perhaps you would have preferred it if I had presented you with chocolates or flowers, or done you some service; instead I offered you the opportunity of much greater intimacy, for the blood is the life. I'm sorry that it proved disappointing to you, but I still wonder if you really gave it a fair chance, and would make the same choice if it were offered again. We shall see.

Although I only had the pleasure of your acquaintanceship for a few hours, I feel that we both gained from the experience. I look forward to renewing and possibly consummating our relationship when we next meet. After all, as you said yourself, I always come back.

Yours admiringly,

Dracula

Post-scriptum: Please inform young William that I have long-since repaid him the money he claims that I owe him. If he will insist on imbibing the blood of opium-smokers and other low-life he should expect occasional lapses of memory.