`I do not believe this shit sometimes.'
`Oh God, you're not reading that stuff again, are you?'
`Yeah, some of it's good.'
`So, what are you complaining about?'
`Well, I'm sick of being presented as a sodding moron.'
`Fuck off, Angel. Anyway, you should see how they talk about you.'
`What do you mean? Let me see that.'
`Uh oh. Hands off. Print off your own copy. This is mine.'
`Well, how then? Go on. Tell me.'
`Well, usually you are just incredibly broody, dark, full of guilt, loads of pent up emotion and fucking anything you can get your hands on!'
`You are joking.'
`Nope. Cross my heart... guess I'd better say cross my dead heart. They hate missing out little details like that.'
`So, I'm having lots of sex then? In these things.'
`Oh yeah, mate. Shagging everyone; Giles, Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn, Doyle, Buffy of course, Willow, Xander, Anya. Hey, some people I ain't even heard of.'
`So, I'm not too choosy then?'
`Not in these, no.'
`So what about you?'
`Yes. Am I ever sha... having sex with you?'
`Again, you jest.'
`No, most of them's about us actually.'
`But that's sick.'
`I mean... why? What have we ever done to make them think we are having sex?'
`I honestly don't know, Angel. But they seem to be obsessed by the idea.'
`Good grief. I had no idea. Can we sue?'
`Shouldn't think so. We're dead.'
`I don't believe it!'
`They've got me strung up and me bollocks `ave been cut off.'
`Eww. Painful! Why?'
`I have no idea. I seem to spend most of my time in these things being beaten up, tortured or buggered. Usually by you.'
`I cut them off?'
`Well, no, okay, bad example, you didn't. But in this other one you keep me chained up under here for weeks, alternately torturing me or shagging me!'
`How very odd.'
`I know. As if you'd want to do either?'
`Oh. Thanks, mate.'
`What was that?'
`Nothing, just talking to meself.'
'Hah, they got that wrong then.'
'They have more sires for me in these than I've had hot blood.'
'Whose fault is that, I wonder?'
'Just what is that supposed to mean?'
'Err, how many versions of your siring have you told in your unlife?'
'Well, okay, I admit I subtlety shade the story according to my audience.'
'Is that Spike speak for tell-a-complete-pack-of-lies-to-everyone?'
'Sod off. It's my story, I'll tell it how I like.'
'So I've noticed. Poetry? Glasses? Dru? Have you actually ever told anyone the real truth about that night?'
'I've told you.'
'Ahh. Quite. But then I already knew it, didn't I.'
`Oh, fucking hell. Get on with it!'
`God, it's always angst with us. We want desperately to shag, but I don't understand you, you don't get me. We spend the entire fucking time all confused, then... wham... bang... we shag and it's all okay. Jesus, whatever happened to talking?'
`What do you mean?'
`Angel. If you wanted to shag me, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?'
`Count on it. It isn't going to happen. But, oh yes, I'd tell you. Would you?'
`Oh yeah. You'd be the first to know. So! That's my point. Why can't we talk in these? All angst. It's so bloody depressing.'
`Well, how do we get from the angst and not talking to the sha... having sex then? What's the catalyst?'
`Well, I always try to seduce you. Usually I prance around half dressed, or jeans undone, or take lots of showers with the door open... oh.'
`Just like you really do then. Better do those up now!'
`So what about me? What do I do in this weird, I don't talk to Spike world?'
`Well you usually get really quiet and broody and...'
`Well... you invite me to stay here in LA on really weak excuses.'
`Look, you needed a place to stay last week. That was a reason, NOT an excuse. Believe me, I had no ulterior motive for inviting you.'
`Course not. I know that. It's these weird fucking things. They do your head in after a while. You can't tell fact, from fiction. Should be banned.'
`Well, stop reading them then!'
`Can't. There're compulsive.'
`So... what do I do then, when I'm doing all this... sex stuff. Am I good?'
`Angel, there's one thing all this stuff has in common. You are a fucking sex God. So... like I said... weird.'
`I have my moments!'
`In the shower don't count, mate. Although you couldn't actually count the number of times you have done it in the shower in these. Christ! Your shower would have fucking stalactites of cum if these were true.'
`Spike. Please! Since when did you become so crude? And why are you swearing so much. You never swear.'
`Hah! You should read these. I've a mouth on me like a fucking whore's cu...'
`Think I may take it up. Suits me.'
`So, go on. Tell me what I do with umm... Wesley, for example. Go on, find a Wesley and me bit.'
`Err... I don't actually read those, mate.'
`Well alright. Me and... Xander then. God, horrible as that thought is.'
`Nope. Don't read those either.'
`Buffy then. Come on Spike, at least that's for real.'
`Not the way you do her in these it ain't, pet.'
`Oh. God. Well, which ones are you reading then?'
`Well. You and me.'
`Me and you?'
`And that would be why?'
`Dunno... just like `em. Don't like the others doin' it with you. At least I'm a vampire. We get to do cool stuff. Blood stuff and... err... nice stuff.'
`What, like the torture?'
`NO! Nice stuff, like... well, kissing, and sleeping together, spooned against each other... stuff like that.'
`I'd be more likely to torture you.'
'You'd prefer that too, wouldn't you?'
`STOP READING THEM! What now?'
`This one's fucking brilliant. Best I've read. I've become human and I hate it, and you want to turn me back, but you're all guilty and shit...'
`God... what happens?'
`It's not fucking finished! Can you believe it? That's so unfair. Best ever and it's bleeding not finished!'
`Dunno. Maybe they get bored of us after a while.'
`How could that be?'
`Well, how many times can you describe entering a small puckered hole? Could get repetitive.'
`I though that was sort of the point?'
`No Angel! Writing about it! Writing about it could become repetitive!'
`So, you've been thinking about the point of small puckered holes have you?'
`Well, only since you started reading that stuff. Yes. I have.'
`Oh. Good. Whose? Wesley's?'
`Err, no... I don't actually think about his.'
`Well, alright. Xander then?'
`Nope. Don't think about his either.'
`Buffy then. Come on Angel. At least that's for real.'
`Not the hole we're talking about.'
`Oh. God. Well which one are you thinking about then?'
`And that would be why?'
`Don't know, but I just do.'
`I like this one.'
`This one, here. Look.'
`What's so good about this one then?'
`Well, it's totally real for the first place. I mean, I'm not a moron... and don't even think about making a sarcastic comment there... it's beneath you. You're not a broody, sex God. We're just... us. And we're talking: just like we do. And we get to do all the good stuff. Eventually.'
`Yeah, it's all misunderstandings and stuff to start with.'
`But we do get to have good sex?'
`Oh yeah. You get to be real repetitive with my small, puckered hole.'
`Well, what brings us together then? What's the catalyst in this one?'
`Well, I came over like this, and I straddled your lap, like this.'
`Oh. Then what?'
`I placed my hand... there.'
`Ahh... and I did what?'
`You unziped me, here.'
`I see... and then?'
`Well, if you stop talking, you put your tongue... there.'
`Ummm... and what did you do... while I did this?'
`Oh, I did what I do best!'
`And what's that?'
`I sat here like this, and looked gorgeous. This is real life, after all, pet.'