The One Who Was Lost

264 - "The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun.

When one deals with beings possessed of such long lives as vampires and demons, then one develops a different kind of respect for the past, as it comes back to haunt people in much more direct and deadly ways. A person's past is a part of them, impossible to be freed from, like one's own shadow.

( Recurrent )

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79 - "I shall love her until the day I die. That's the tragedy." - 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

Oh, what a question.

Every step of the way in my life, I had struggled to live up to an ideal, something that had been ingrained into my thinking since childhood: do what is right. Sometimes that meant just, and sometimes it meant fair, and sometimes it meant heartless or calculating or even cruel. Almost never did it mean convenient, or easy or pleasing. Only right.

When I discovered, to my horror, Illyria's uncanny ability to mimic Fred, there was no question at all what the right thing to do was. Even if she had only been able to produce a likeness of Fred Burkle, it would have been unacceptable, but the impersonation-- no, the transformation was so complete and terrifyingly accurate that it pulled at every nerve in my body. I forbade her to ever change that way again.

Did it dishonour the memory of her? Yes. Was it a falsehood and deception? Yes.

But those were not the true reasons I told Illyria to "be blue". It was because I could not stand to have her back and know she would only vanish again. I was not a strong enough man to resist temptation. I would ask her to lie, again and again, and somehow, I knew Illyria would do so at my behest.

It was the right thing to do, forbidding the lie.

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

I was no longer a living man, facing the remainder of my days as guide and companion to the fallen god-king. I was no longer the former Watcher, the former hunter, the former prodigal son, the former would-be Champion. I was dying, my final mission ending in failure. There was nothing of me left.

I had sinned too greatly to believe there was much left for me on the other side. So why not complete my fall? Why not choose the wrong thing?

Would it be so bad, I asked myself, here at the end?

I would be selfish. I would take what I could from the world before I left it.

I had been wrong about so many things in my life, this one last act seemed a trifle.

The wrong thing to do.

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

"Yes... Thank you, yes..."

(361, not including direct quotes)

August 2008 - What do you think about or do when you can't sleep?

Insomnia happens a great deal in this line of work. So much of what I do occurs, by necessity, at night and yet there is always research and preparation to be done during the daylight hours that it can often wreak complete havoc with a person's circadian rhythms. So, I am not unfamiliar with the situation, and am usually prepared for it.

Most often, I read. Despite their antiquity, the reference books that I've gathered over the years often provide new insights into cases at hand, or refresh my memory so that necessary information can be called upon more quickly and effectively. I am also making new acquisitions all the time, and those must also be read, notes taken and conclusions drawn. In fact, I am currently engrossed in a first edition of Tolbein's Spirit Guide.

Other times, work is the last thing I want to occupy my mind. In that case, a glass of wine and silence will suffice. Friends have called it brooding. I simply consider it a necessary rumination and relaxation.

On occasion in the recent past, though, I have been known to make a phone call to a certain lady friend with similar working hours who is also sometimes afflicted with insomnia. That is perhaps now my favorite sleepless night pastime, and one only a concern for her own ability to sleep prevents me from repeating it more often.

(233)

"This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past." -Agathon

Now, we know that's not true, at least in a sense. With a powerful spell anchored to an artifact known as a Window of Orlon, the sorceror Cyvus Vail was able to remake the past according to the designs of Angel and Wolfram and Hart-- or rather, he was able to restructure the memories of nearly every man, woman and child on Earth.

Yes, for the great majority of people, the changes were minor. None of them would remember the entity called Jasmine or the few bittersweet days of utter peace and contentment that she brought to the world, at the horrible price that was paid. But for those of us in Angel's circle, the task was mighty. We were made to forget one of our own family, Angel's son Connor-- forget every trace of his existence.

I was the one who destroyed the illusion, for that was all it was-- an illusion. Connor had lived, had fought against and beside us, had lived a life of anger and frustration and had nearly gone mad.

On sleepless nights, I sometimes wonder what I would do with a Window of Orlon. Would I force myself to forget my life as a Watcher, and insist I have always been the man I am now? Should I erase all trace of the people we've lost, that I've lost? Could I bring myself to undo all that Fred Burkle was, so that I might look upon Illyria as a being unique?

The answer is no. Even with all that power, what is past could only be covered up or forgotten, but never undone.

(269)

OOC: These are canon and fanon-based responses.

208 - Four

OOC: Shamelessly stolen from Inspired by the #208 prompts by queenemma!mun

Traditionally, demons and vampires and other supernatural creatures have been fought with traditional weaponry. Blades and bows, wood and steel against their fangs and claws. Whether this is a case of their visceral, mystical strength being met with the base ability of humanity-- tools and muscle-- or whether it is simply just the way things have been done, it is rare for those in that business to employ the modern tools of war.

( Four people Wesley has shot )

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