Collecting The Mail
Title: Collecting The Mail (1/1)
Author: Madsdog
Email: madsdog13@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Yet again, not mine, I’m playing with stuff that's not my own
Summary: Willow finds a letter…
Couples: Willow/Doyle
Category: Willow/Doyle
Rating: G
Pairing: Female's name isn't mentioned, but it is Willow
Author's note: Kinda weird, it's from Willow's point of view. Season one of
Angel happened as it was meant to, but Willow never appeared in any of Buffy
season four- she was in LA
Feedback: I guess, I’m not sure it's worth it, but I’m not complaining if I
get it
After all these years it still hurts, and after all these years, they still
do it.

“Allan Francis Doyle”

I hate collecting the mail. Why don’t catalogue companies, or advertising
places ever update their systems? I just want to find the person who’s sent
this one and shout at them

“He’s dead! Don’t you know that yet? Why do you think he never answers?
He’s dead”

LA’s better for grieving than Sunnydale- no one knows you; no one cares if
they do. But I lack the money needed to move house and this one holds too
many memories

It’s ironic that I married him to escape my own life, only to find that his
job was part of it- he died for Angel. He died for what I wanted to escape
from. He died knowing it would kill me.

I never found out until the funeral who he worked for- and now they too know
where I live. They check on me, the heartbroken widow.

Until the funeral, they never found out about my other life- the life where
I was married at eighteen, the life I had beyond demon hunting, the life I
clung to. The life they ripped apart with their noble causes and redemption
nonsense.

I loved him- they never took that into account. They killed him anyway and
now they refuse to let his memory rest in piece.

Wesley and Cordelia came by last night, very careful to never mention his
name- I need to move, I can’t cope with constant visits from them, I need to
escape again- this time on my own.

I need the money to do so first.

Unable to hold it in, I allow the tears to fall, and here I am again, five
years after his death, crying over the mail.