“I get that you’ve gotta be feeling a bit out-of-the-loopy right now, but I’m not sure that learning about Spike’s past is necessarily the best way to move forward.” Miss Willow argued.
He’d found her and Miss Tara in the house’s kitchen enjoying what he assumed to be a spot of tea while engaging in idle conversation. He had posed the same question to them as he had the others, but the pair seemed to be rather reluctant to disclose much of his previous history.
“I mean, I’m happy to tell you what I know but….”
“I think what Willow means is, the past may be who you were, but it isn’t who you have to be.” Miss Tara had a rather calm and soothing manner about her that did seem to make things less complex and distressing, much like his own mother. She seemed to exude a quality of caring and compassion that surpassed that of her companions. He would very much like to cultivate a friendship with her if possible. Miss Willow was a bit more guarded in her discussion.
“It’s just, I think you’ve had a lot happen since you, um, arrived, here and I think maybe it would be best if you get some rest and recuperate a bit before we really start digging into existentialist discussions, you know?”
“It is pretty late.” Miss Tara replied.
“Way late. It’s so late it’s early. Not even all that early, to be honest. I really think we should just all get some rest and then we can start with the research in the morning if you decide that’s still what you want to do. Maybe even see if we can find out more about what happened to your mother after your… disappearance.”
He conceded that she may have a valid point. Mother did occasionally chide him, saying that he tended to get rather obsessed when in pursuit of a subject.
“Perhaps you are right. I should not be keeping you from your chambers. Though, I don’t suppose you have any of those ‘Watcher’s Diaries’ here that the others mentioned?” He asked. A spot of reading would help him to relax his mind before retiring.
“No, not here. Though, I do have some scanned…”
“Scanned?” What could that possibly mean?
“Oh, we’ll have to introduce you to computers and the internet tomorrow! It’s like having a whole library at your fingertips!” Miss Willow seemed rather exuberant suddenly.
“Will, I think it best if we took things one step at a time. It’s a lot to take in.” Miss Tara once again seemed the voice of order and reason.
“You’re right. Of course. One step at a time. That’s why she’s boss.” Miss Willow pointed to Miss Willow with a rather, entertaining, smile. “We’ll see you in the morning, William?”
“But not too early,” Miss Tara added with a rather conspiratorial looking grin.
“Definitely not too early,” Miss Willow replied, returning a look that he could only describe as lascivious.
Feeling rather intrusive given their exchange, he decided perhaps he should retire for the night and turned to remove himself to the adjacent rooms. All of them had given him quite a lot to contemplate. Each person seemed to have a rather unique view of him, and he was having quite the difficulty trying to form some sort of cohesive portrait of himself. On one hand, he seemed a caring and protective guardian, a devoted companion, and lover, enduring torture and risking his own life for her and Miss Dawn, devastated by the loss of his true love and dedicated to his charge as guardian of her sister, elated by her return to life, and fighting by her side against even his own kind. On the other hand, he seemed to be the very personification of evil, eating children, pillaging, destroying, and philandering, murdering countless people everywhere he went, dispossessed of his human soul and trying every day to find a new way to kill the very woman to whom he’d given his heart.
As he proceeded through the dining room, its table covered in a variety of papers, plasters, and forgotten drinks, the lid of a curious object on the table suddenly lifted, a bright light emanating from the object in question. He glanced around, curious if anyone else had noted the strange occurrence, but he found no one else in the room. Although he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but be drawn to the strange thing, which on closer inspection appeared to be a machine of some sort. Part of it appeared similar to the images he’d seen of the recently invented typewriter. The other part was quite unlike anything he’d ever seen. It appeared to be some sort of journal detailing characteristics of demons, although how one would go about reading the journal was a mystery.
As if reading his mind, the demon treatise disappeared, and writing began appearing on the screen, instructing him to use the arrows, with a drawing of where they were located, to turn the pages of an “entry.” Then, the writing disappeared, and in its place, a myriad of images and words passed swiftly in front of him. Again, glancing around to see who or what could be causing this machine to act in such a way, he found no one.
He turned back to the machine once again, trying to see if the arrows would perhaps stop or slow the progress of images and words. As quickly as it had started the images stopped. It seemed fortune was beginning to smile on him, and he finally might be able to find out exactly who or what he had become.
Without further preamble, he poised a finger once again over an arrow and dove into reading what he hoped would be a most revealing compendium of information, “Lydia Chalmer’s Thesis on William the Bloody.”
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Chapter End Notes:
For those interested who have way too much time on their hands, the referenced thesis can be located here:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/12954411
http://archiveofourown.org/works/12954411