Summary: Twilight's got a lot on his mind--the fate of the world!--and he needs someone to confide in. Who can a god trust?
Warning: Spoilers for Season 8 and Twilight's identity.
Word Count: 150
Author's Note: Irreverence is helping me cope with the month-long wait between issues.
“Nobody appreciates what I’m going through. No one understands this burden. I’ve got a skinless mad scientist who refuses to wear pants and his crazy witch girlfriend working for me. Have you heard them going at it? Almost makes me miss Spike. And I’ve gotta wear this itchy mask and fly around in a cape. Okay, the cape’s kinda cool. I mean, it’s black and billows in the wind. That’s kinda my thing. But no one gets me. Do I get a clap on the back for manipulating a US army general? No. Do I get a ‘thank you’ card for throwing a church steeple at Buffy and missing her head by a millimeter all so I can instill fear in her and keep my villain street cred without actually hurting her? No. It’s never enough. I give and I give and I give…”
“Oh, sorry, ladies. Where were we?”