If you're seeing this, it's finally happened. It seems silly to me now, writing a letter that my daughters will see after I'm dead, but, well, I needed to get everything in order, and, hopefully, you won't see this for many years to come.
But I don't think that'll happen. So I have to say these things now.
Buffy, you were named after the youngest girl on Family Affair. I never told you that before, because I didn't want you to be ashamed of your name. It wasn't the name of a friend of mine, it wasn't picked out of a baby book, it was because for the last month I was carrying you, I spent a lot of time in front of the TV and I was watching Family Affair obsessively. And now you know why I always wanted to take a picture of you when you were at your grandmother's house and holding my old Mrs. Beasely doll.
And if you were a boy, you would've been named Quincy.
Dawn, you were conceived in the backseat of our old station wagon in a MacDonald's parking lot while Grandma Ann kept an eye on Buffy in the play area. Buffy, don't laugh, because it was the only reason you didn't get in trouble for escaping Grandma's eye and running off to play in the Burger King play area next door.
And besides, you were conceived on Grandma Ann's back porch swing.
Buffy, you also once managed to slip between the railings on Grandma Jean's second-story balcony and fall onto some bushes below. That's where that little scar on your forehead came from. You obviously weren't killed by the fall, and you obviously weren't killed by me. But I came pretty close to it.
Mr. Giles, take care of my girls. I set up all the custody arrangements for Dawn the same day I wrote this, and I know that, despite the sudden shock at becoming the father of two girls automatically, you'll take good care of them. Buffy, help him. He only had to deal with you part-time, and even though Dawn's not going to be as much trouble as you were, I think she'll manage to wear both of you out.
And tell both Willow and Xander that they were always welcome in my house. If we could have, I would've had them live with us.
And, I suppose, this is where I should make a confession. It's a bit more difficult to write about this than it is to write about your childhood incidents, but I suppose I should say this.
Buffy, I want you to visit Faith. I want you to tell her what happened.
You hate her. I know. You hate her for everything she did to you, to us, to your friends. You can never forgive her for what she did.
But you have to.
You have to for me.
That one Christmas, when the snow fell, and Faith came over for dinner, we...
Well, you were gone, and Dawn went to bed...
And Faith and I...
I was lonely. She was lonely. And, that one night, we stopped being lonely.
I know this is a shock, and you're probably having a hard time dealing with this, but despite everything she did, she once gave your mother a night that no one else could.
She loved you, you know. She said that, after...well, afterwards. She told me about everything that she felt, that she wanted, and how you were...
Well, you were the one thing that she really cared about.
I want you to talk to her. I want you -- you -- not Giles, not Angel, and most definitely not a letter -- to tell her what happened. I want you to tell her that I died, and that I told you about what happened that Christmas.
I want you to tell her that I forgave her before I died. I want you to try to forgive her as well.
I'm sorry. I know that it's a lot to ask for right now. But it's my wish -- my final wish.
Because I loved her.
And because I love you.
d e a d l e t t e r s h o m e