[William does not know where he is. The room is not like his at home. It's sparse, undecorated, and none of his books are around. Instead, there are odd devices all around, some boxes and metal cans that smell like alcohol, and a strange box that's flashing with multicoloured lights and the sound of voices.

That, at least, has him curious enough that he wanders closer, until he can see that the lights form a moving picture. He gasps, surprised, and then what the picture is registers.]


That... that's not decent! Where are that woman's clothes?

[There has to be a switch or a knob or something to shut it off. William's too embarrassed to look for it, though, so he just rushes for the door and takes off.]

Mother! Where are you, Mother?



[ooc: No, Spike was not watching porn. It's just a scene in some film or TV show that doesn't quite make it to 19th century modesty standards.]
And just like that, no more Dru. Can't say I'll miss her, exactly, but I'd have liked it if she could've graduated. I mean, we had fun, back in the bad old days. Not saying I'd go back to being an evil killer. There's the soul-crushing guilt keeping me from that, and besides, I like being a hero. I'm way better at it than I ever was at being the Big Bad.

[He's quiet for a moment.]

Still, before she turned me, I was a bloody pathetic poofter. People were calling me "William the Bloody" started before I died, you know, and it wasn't because of anything violent. It was because my poetry was so bloody awful.

[Why did he say that? Spike doesn't tell anyone that. He had more to say, but he just shuts off the journal before he can. He's afraid of what might come out.]
[Spike knows it's a flood, and he's not particularly happy about it. Still, so far he doesn't seem to be affected, as far as he can tell. He's sitting on his bed, smoking, and not looking at the camera, though he knows it's on.]

A flood again? That's bloody brilliant, mates.
What's this one, then? Not musical, thank God.
Guess I'll just watch and see when it abates.

[He glances over at the camera.]

Have people noticed anything that's odd?
The Barge can get so hellishly insane.
With floods and ports, and strange dimensions, right?
The Admiral must like how we curse his name.
How long till he drives vamps with souls to bite?

[He shakes his head, smiling a bit.]

Don't be alarmed, I'm nowhere near that place.
But who can know what horrors next we face?



[ooc: Spike's power, which he cannot turn off, is to speak in perfect iambic pentameter. He shall be answering in rhyming couplets, sonnets, quatrains, whatever I feel like. Also, he hasn't noticed anything amiss himself.]

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