Memories
The things I remember clearly are few and far between. Little snippets from a past drenched in blood. Clichéd, I know, but true none the less.
I line or two of a prayer, whispered each night by my mother, whether in fear or hope, I'll never know:
"If ah should die before ah wake,
Ah pray the lord mah soul to take."
Repeated occasionally by me, good little boy that I was; and if you believe that then you'll believe anything. Even in my youth I don't think that any God in His right mind would've touched my soul with a barge pole, bloodthirsty little bastard that I was. Still am, I suppose, though not so little anymore.
Angelus wouldn't have agreed with that last point: I was always his "little one"..... ....when he was in a good mood, anyway. Either that or "boy". That was when he was pissed off, or I'd done something wrong (again). I didn't really care what he called me, to be honest, as long as I had his full attention. From orders give in that tone of voice that I could never fail to obey, through to the words: "You're mine, Will." whispered to me in that unreal time between waking and sleep. I wonder if it was his way of telling me that he loved me? I certainly loved him: he was is my Sire. It was almost part of Lore that I should love him. Not that that word is ever used: "posses", "property", "teach", "belong", "keep" - yes; but never "love".
Now there's something I could never fully remember: Vampire Lore, the Ways of The Kindred, the Ties That Bind, and all that bollocks. Even Angelus himself couldn't beat that shit into me. In the end he wrote in down for me (in the back of a Bible - he thought it was amusing - and that is all you ever need to know about my Sires' sense of humour), something else which was expressively banned by vampire Lore: writing any of it down. Any watcher worth their salt would give their right arm to get hold of a copy. Still got that Bible somewhere. Might make a good Christmas present for Giles.
Maybe I'll give it back to Angel-the-nancy-boy-superhero. It'd be worth it, just to see the look of horror on his face. Stir up a few of his memories. See how he likes it. Bastard.
Still Darlas' bitch as well, or so I hear. Always was: Yes m'Lady, no m'Lady, inie-menie-mo m'Lady. Yes I'll follow your pussy half way across the fuckin' world so I can drink from some fuckin' Gypsy bitch and get cursed 'cause it doesn't matter 'bout Will an' Dru an' Penn an' God how I hate him....I can feel it inside. It hurts. It burns. I don't want to remember anymore.
I want to forget.
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