A/N: I've decided the "Bill" Elizabeth talked to as the Collinsport Sheriff is "Bill Malloy", so there…

Enjoy… (Or don't…)

Chapter Nine: Afghans Aplenty

The two remnant staff of Collinwood found themselves alone in a drawing room with several decaying couches. The full moonlight through the long windows made it easier to survey their dubious territory in The Old House.

Willie Loomis had watched each member of the Collins family, with his wandering eyes, go up the stairs to find a bedroom while he and their beloved, white-haired housekeeper looked about for what was left to them as far as slumber would be.

"Well, Mrs. Johnson," Willie exhaustingly sighed, "what's to become of us here? Not that I expect an answer from you. You haven't spoken a word since… since…"

The muttled matron of the pantry made her raggedy voice known, "Since Bill Malloy employed me on this estate… eh, Mr. Loomis?"

Willie held his breath and found that he was choking on just that.

"Mrs. Johnson… I can't recall the last time you spoke a word to me!"

"Mmm, no, of course not, Willie. For it was the first night Carolyn became a werewolf and that was about two years ago."

"Jesus," Willie uttered.

"Heheh, I'd say don't speak the Lord's name in vain, but you have no Lord in that regard." Mrs. Johnson smiled wanly.

"Nah," Willie answered, "I guess I don't, but the habit is hard to break. Why did you mention who employed you? Carolyn's growling in the night would have been memory enough for me to recollect the last time you spoke, but…"

"But our sherriff, Bill, came around to talk to Mrs. Stoddard tonight. It sparked a memory in me."

The two stood in that dark, silent drawing room for about a minute before Willie couldn't deal with the extending silence anymore and asked, "He was pretty lost about assuming to take us all into town, wasn't he?"

"Oh yes, he was, as he has been about her, and us, for some time." Mrs. Johnson looked around her and heaved a sigh, "Now, my young staffman, there is an afghan here on this spot, " Mrs. Johnson shook a multi-coloured afghan of peculiarly large size of the back of one couch, "Or there is this other afghan, same make but triangular in shape over here, " and Mrs. Johnson shook another, "It amounts little to me where I sleep between these two choices. We'll still awake to the sun arising too soon and be expected to invent a breakfast from nearly no pantry for our besotted and well groomed Collins tomorrow, so you might as well pick where you want to sleep sooner than later. The sooner we sleep the better rested we'll be to handle the absurdity of what we'll be anticipated to achieve."

Willie snorted, "I'll take the first."

Mrs. Johnson approached Willie Loomis and patted him firmly on the shoulder, though it took her standing on her tips toes to achieve this simple affirmation to her co-worker, "And I shall take the second."

The two found their dusty ways to each chosen couch with different afghans, created by Heaven knows whom, tucked themselves in, and slept the sleep of the almost dead.

A/N: Let me know what you liked. Happy Halloween.

(And yep! Keep worshipping that Twitter Dorsey God, eh? Looked great the other day with the massively long beard in front of a foaming-at-the-mouth Congress. I kinda dug it. All these people out of touch with the reality they raised you kiddies on.)

Anyway, talk about the narrative if you can. I have my doubts. ;)