William turned Angelus' expensive gold pen over in his fingers. Angelus had forbidden him to touch it, of course, but Will thought it was such a wonderful pen that it deserved to be used.

He was sitting at Angelus' second study desk, pondering what to write in the diary Angel had decided suddenly to make him keep. Next to him was Angelus' own diary, opened at a page from about a year ago as an example. Will scanned it briefly.

November 11th, 1981.

Finances are good. The stock exchange seems to be going well for me, and so I can afford more luxuries for the girls. Drusilla has appeared to be fairly lucid recently; whether that is to do with William's influence I do not know. Today we went out as a family. Darla was most displeased with the behaviour of my Childer, and has insisted I 'speak' to the boy about it. I have to say, he has much to learn, and showing me up in public is not something he should be doing if he wants to stay with us much longer. Hunting has become rather poor in this area, and it looks as though we may be moving closer to the inner city some time soon.

A.A.

Will yawned. How dull. But really, what was he possibly going to write in this bleeding diary? Dear Diary, Angelus beat me up again today, love Will. Mildly curiously, but mostly just trying to kill boredom, he flicked forward a few pages until he got to the more recent entries.

September 7th, 1982.

Will has been gone 23 days now. Drusilla has almost forgotten him, or at least that's all she is showing. (At this point there was two or three lines blotted out so heavily with ink that Will couldn't make out what they might have said). In truth, I hope it will make him a better vampire, although I find it difficult to imagine my boy as anything but a nuisance.

We all miss him.

A.A.

Will frowned at the seemingly unexpected, 'we all miss him', at the bottom of the entry, but he dismissed it. He needed to concentrate on his own diary.

Picking up the pen once more, he somehow managed to drop it onto the hard stone floor of the second study. He picked it up hurriedly and inspected it. The nib was bent. His eyes widening, he tried to bend it back into shape, but to no avail. He glanced up briefly to make sure no one was watching and then searched through Angelus' drawers looking for spare nibs. Nothing.

If Angelus found out he'd broken this pen's apparently irreplaceable nib, he was so dusted. Unfortunately, he also had to finish this diary entry. With a bent pen nib. There were other pens, of course, but none in here, and if he left the room Angelus would ask why, and if he answered 'to get a pen', then Angelus would ask what he had been doing for fifteen minutes. Swallowing, he dipped the pen in the ink and went to write his wobbly and inconsistent entry.

November 18th, 1982

Angelus made me start a diary. This is it. Today I hunted with Dru in our new territory and she made a big fuss about eating an old woman.

He hesitated over whether to add in anything else, about the pen or his own emotions, but decided Angelus was going to read it so he'd leave it at that. He signed it, Spike, and glanced over the brief entry. The handwriting was awful. He could write neat, as a university graduate, but Angelus' was far, far more elegant, and Will just knew he would not be happy with this effort. Especially since Will couldn't even explain it was the pen's fault, not his, because that would mean owning up to the damage of the nib which he shouldn't have been using in the first place.

Using the standard 'ignore it and maybe it'll go away' technique, Will left the pen exactly where he had found it, shut Angelus' diary, shut his own, and left the room.

It wasn't until half an hour later that "WILLIAM!" signified Angelus had discovered either the diary entry, or the pen, or both.

Trooping downstairs with a look of complete innocence, he saw Angelus holding the diary. The pen was nowhere to be seen.

"What is this?"

"That's me diary," Will chirped brightly, hurriedly adding "Sire," onto the end at Angelus' frown.

Sigh. "William, this is not acceptable. 'Angelus made me start a diary. This is it. Today I hunted with Dru in our new territory and she made a big fuss about eating an old woman.'" Angelus looked at Will with one eyebrow raised. "Before I even start on the content, would you like to give me an explanation as to the presentation?"

Will thought quickly. "Uh, the woman that we killed, she bent my finger back in her struggle and… it still hurts," he finished hopefully.

"You're lying to me William. That means you've done something wrong."

"Fine! Ok, I don't have an excuse. My writing is just… really bad."

Angelus turned and strode towards the fire place. He prodded the fire with the poker, and then turned back to his Childe, holding the poker aloof, one hand also resting on his belt buckle. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the fun way? Which would you prefer? Either I beat it out of you, which could take time, and then you suffer the consequences of what you've done, or you tell me now, and only suffer the consequences. Hmm?"

William took a half step back and Angelus began to take off his belt slowly. "Uhh… well the pen I was using had a broken nib."

"And you didn't think to get another one?"

"They were all upstairs."

"So?"

"Uhh…"

"Which pen was is?"

"Mine. My… blue one."

"So not this one then?" Angelus held up the very pen Will had broken, and predictably, Will's jaw dropped. "Right. Let's have a count shall we? 1 for every badly written word. That's 29. 5 for using my pen. 5 for dropping it. 1 for not changing the nib. 1 for not fetching a different pen. 5 for lying to me about the writing. 5 for lying to me about the pen. So that makes a total so far of 51. Would you like those included or separate from the content beating?"

Will simply scowled at his Sire. This was so unjustified.

"Included then. 1 for not being willing to keep the diary. 1 for stating the obvious. 5 for the lack of detail and interest. 5 for signing it wrong. 2 for using an abbreviation of Drusilla's name –"

"But you used an abbreviation of mine!"

"– 3 for arguing with me, 5 for reading entries other than the one I gave you to read… have I forgotten anything boy?"

Will shook his head miserably.

"Good. Then that makes 72. Better round it up to eighty, I think. Shirt."

Dutifully, Will removed his shirt. Blood didn't come out easily, and Angelus wouldn't pay for a new one if this got ruined.

"Angelus, what are you doing?" Darla's head appeared at almost exactly the right time. She took in the scene and shook her head. "No. Not in here. The carpet, Angelus, the carpet!"

"But it's red anyway," Angelus protested, and Darla snapped at him.

"No!"

Will snickered under his breath and Angelus shot him a warning glance. "85…" He shut up. "Come on then boy, we're going downstairs." Angelus grabbed William's shoulder roughly like a child, and pulled him into the cellar. "Wall," he commanded.

William was so used to this kind of punishment that he put on an air of indifference and boredom. This had all happened before. And it had been worse. The Master… No! He shut his eyes and pressed against the wall.

Slam!

The first stroke of Angelus' belt drove him into the wall with its force.

Crack!

The second took him straight back to the Master's lair.

"Do you think it's funny, boy? Is that what Angelus has taught you?"

"You realise what you've done wrong, don't you boy?"

"N-No."

"What?"

Crack!

"You are nothing but an arrogant fledgling, just like your Sire."

"I went over it all with you! You know exactly what you've done wrong!"

The two events were blurring; his current situation with Angelus, and the beating he had received on his second day in the Master's service.

"You're not perfect either!" Will yelled at them both; the ugly face of the Master and the familiar face of his Sire. Then he slammed his fist against the wall so hard that it cracked the skin.

He didn't even feel it. He began to shake, rested his head against the wall and thumped it again and again.

"Will, stop it," snapped Angelus, but his Childe seemed not to hear him. "Will?"

stupid fledgling stupid fledgling stupid fledgling stupid fledgling stupid fledgling

"William!" Angelus dropped the belt and took two steps forwards so that he was standing, frowning, next to Will. "What's wrong?" Will's bloodied fist went forwards again to hit he wall but Angelus caught it and lowered it. He leant closer.

"stupidfledglingstupidfledglingstupidfledgling," Will was muttering under his breath.

"Will," began Angelus calmly, but he was ignored, again. "William!" he said loudly, but still nothing. Finally he clouted him across the head, and this time, Will paid attention, looking up at Angelus with tears in his eyes.

The expression on his face was so un-William like that Angelus hesitated, before pulling the boy towards him. "It's ok. Forget it," he whispered, and then stood up and left quietly.