Just rewatched Episode 3 A Spectre Calls and it got me thinking about what went through Culter's head when he killed Dr Jenny Wilson the coroner and what lead him to decide to bury her in the Upper Neuadd Reservoir as a homage to his maker Hal.

This is how I saw it.

Just a one off. I own nothing, TW is a GOD!

He had cared once. It seemed so long ago now, that he would wimper to himself as the man or woman gave out that last gasp; a light extinguished forever, and for no better purpose then to make him feel warm, for an hour or two.

But now, now bodies were just an irritation, something messy to be cleaned up. Something that could be avoided, unless he lost control, and then things like this happened.

Nick Culter looked down at the still twitching body of the coroner that had rag dolled it off the chair. He sniffed the air, more on impulse then need, his lips curling into a look of mild disgust. He touched his chin; Jesus, it was covered. Thank God he had leaned forward and bent down when he'd bitten down. Always remember your appearance; The familiar voice said in his head, always there, never leaving him after 55years the person may have gone, but the voice remained.

He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket; something the office bodies of today would think oddly old fashioned, but for a creature like Nick, something that still had uses. Who wants a shredded Kleenex to mop up? He thought. He wiped his chin, dismayed at how much blood was around his face. Sloppy Cutler, warned the voice. Neatness is next to…

He wiped his face and absent-mindedly sucked on the stained cotton as he regarded the cooling corpse before him. He hadn't wanted this; the woman just wouldn't shut up; her incessant chatter rising in pitch that had crossed from grating into intolerable had tipped him over the edge. He had a plan. Everything had to go according to it and this stupid woman had almost blown it all.

'It was weird, it was like he knew how to frighten me, and then, he apologized.'

Apologized? A vampire that scares and then apologizes? That was worrying. Who ever heard about a kind vampire. Well apart from Herrick's recruit John Mitchell who lived with werewolves, the Box Tunnel Killer. But he'd been killed months ago with Wyndham, and then Griffin had killed the girl werewolf, and then the boy werewolf had killed Griffin and then he'd died… blah blah blah.

The point Culter? Came the clipped voice again. Cutler closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to stay focused, she hadn't told the vampire anything, and if she had, what would that mean? Nothing that had to be dealt with now at least. No, right now the most pressing issue was clearing up this mess in front of him.

He shoved the handkerchief into his trouser pocket, balling it up into the bottom so there was no way it could peak out. Then he took a step back and looked down at himself. Clean. He licked his fingers to remove any remaining blood and then gingerly pulled his shirt out so he could see down it. Not one stain he thought smugly. Blood on a shirt is a bit of a give-away, not to mention a waste of a good bit of tailoring.

Maybe that was why Cutler didn't spend money on suits and shirts and shoes anymore, he thought. He remembered those eyes looking deep into him, those cold, dangerous eyes that could spot a blood dot from ten meters. Go and change Culter, I will not let you disgrace me by wearing that.

He looked around and sighed, there was no cleanup crew anymore, but that hardly mattered, he was at Stoker's after all. But he was on his own. He assessed the situation.

Pros: He was on his own turf. They had a furnace here that had been very underused since everyone had left. Left Culter? Left you all alone? She wouldn't have told anyone she was coming here; she was too clever to make that mistake.

Cons: Dr Wilson had driven, her car was conspicuously parked outside. Plus the furnace was off, and bugger knew how to start it. And the last thing he wanted was anyone thinking this place was open for business.

Conclusion: You're acting as if you have a choice Culter. How sweet.

Cutler swallowed. There was no choice. He had to do this. And do it now. He dried his fingers off and then ran them along him collar, checking for any tacky wetness that his eyes couldn't see and a mirror would refuse to reveal. Nothing, he nodded.

Okay, so he was presentable at least. And this being the ex-club of vampires there were plenty of materials to clear up a body, and no one would even notice the congealed pool of blood among all the other older congealed pools of blood. Nick kicked his foot on the cement floor. Jesus this place was a shit-hole.

He'd wrap her up and use her car to dump her. Yes, stage one, sorted.

The indicator light clicked like a metronome as he waited at the T-junction, Nick hesitated. And now what? Where do you go from here Culter? His fingers tapped on the steering-wheel, faster and faster. He was about to go to the docks about a mile away, a decent distance from Stoker's, put the car in gear and send it over the edge, nice and tidy, if a little splashy. What to do? Where to go? Why do you hesitate Culter? The voice asked in that voice. Always in the same voice that Nick knew so well and would never forget.

Why, why did the voice always make him feel so useless, pointing out his flaws, ridiculing him. No: If He was really here now, he wouldn't be shaking his head at a disappointment, he would be smiling and saying 'Well well Nick, I always knew you had greatness in you.'

Nick Cutler frowned. He couldn't hear that voice saying those words yet. But that was all be different when everything came together.

He'd decided, Nick flicked the indicator to the right, out of town towards the hills. He was going to exorcise the last doubts from his head. He was going to bury the nagging Doctor Jenny Wilson in a place He would approve of. He was going to finally become what Hal Yorke had intended him to be; A History Maker.