Excerpts from the Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
by Kayla

Disclaimer: Not mine, but I can still make them do naughty things!

Notes: I'm trying something new. If it works, yay me. If not, well then I'll stop. There's not going to be a specific number of parts or anything, it's just going to be written like any other diary. I will try to be as accurate as I can with dates and such, but I'm not perfect. Feel free to correct any errors.

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
January 27, 1880

It's rather fitting, don't you think? A new journal for a new life.

I know Mother worries about me being in London on my own, but I'm a grown man, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

Oh my, I do hope that isn't too harsh. I love Mother, really I do. Ever since Father passed on she's done a superb job of managing the family. Even Albert hasn't had anything to complain about. Of course, he does have other things on his mind with his new wife and a child on the way. Mother's terribly excited about being a grandmother.

I shall miss Genevieve the most, I suppose. She does so love my poems, perhaps I shall write one for her birthday and send it to her. Perhaps it will cheer her up a bit. It's quite sad, really. She's always been such a fragile child, and Mother was always so frightened that something untoward would happen. I doubt the girl will ever get a chance to see anyplace other than here. I know Mother means well, but keeping someone practically locked in her rooms constantly can't possibly be healthy!

Oh dear, I'm afraid my temper got the better of me there. I'm sure Mother knows what's best for Genevieve. I shall put it from my mind.


Even the word seems rife with possibilities. I wonder what exciting and wonderful things shall happen there?

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
February 8, 1880

I have seen an angel.

She is a goddess. Such a beautiful, delicate flower. Simply staring at her makes my heart want to burst forth into song. And her name...it sings to me.


I could spend hours composing odes to her radiance.

You've captured my heart, my dearest Cecily,
How could such love make you think less of me?

I finally know what love is. The poets were right. I think we were fated to be.

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
March 12, 1880

I don't understand. How can she bear to listen to those pompous, overblown fools? I know she can't possibly enjoy their company. Why does she allow them to cluster about her so?

Ah, I am being foolish. She is such a sweet, kind young woman. She hasn't the heart to make them go. It's really very thoughtful of her to feign interest so those addlepated idiots don't realize what a mockery they are making of themselves.

Mother would love her. I wonder what her favorite flowers are. Perhaps I should buy her some. Would that be too forward of me?

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
March 29, 1880

I'm going to do it tonight. I shall send her the poem that I wrote for her. I'm know she'll adore it. She must.

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
April 13, 1880

I shall see her again tonight. I never feel quite comfortable at these soirees, but it's worth to be able to see her. My angel. My heart. I'm going to speak with her.

Be brave, William. Love shall prove victorious.

Bother, what do you suppose is a good rhyme for 'effulgent'?

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw
April 16, 1880

Dying hurts. A great deal.

Diary of William Lesley Bradshaw Spike
April 28, 1880

Bugger this. What sort of nancy-boy vampire keeps a bloody diary? How pathetic was I?

Diary of Spike
March 17, 1900

Bloody hell! A Slayer! I killed a Slayer! That wanker Angelus never killed himself a Slayer I'd wager. Christ, I feel fantastic! And Dru...fuck she's a sweet shag.

Mind you, I'm not writing in this bleeding thing because I've gone back to my pre-vamp ways. If I met myself now, I'd kill me. What a pansy. No, this is just a one-off. Gotta brag somewhere, right?

I'm Spike. And I killed me a Slayer. Damn, my unlife is good!

tbc...at some point...