Billy Swan ~ I Can Help !!! ~ ♫♪♫ ~
If you got a problem, don't care what it is
If you need a hand, I can assure you this
I can help, I got two strong arms
I can help
It would sure do me good, to do you good
Let me help
It's a fact that people get lonely, ain't nothing new
But a woman like you, baby should never have the blues
Let me help, I got two for me
It would sure do me good, to do you good
Let me help
When I go to sleep at night you're always a part of my dream
Holding me tight and telling me everything I wanna hear
Don't forget me baby, all you gotta’ do is call
You know how I feel about ya, if I can do anything at all
Let me help, if your child needs a daddy, I can help
It would sure do me good to do you good
Let me help
~ ♫♪♫ ~
When I go to sleep at night you're always a part of my dream
Holding me tight and telling me everything I wanna hear
Don't forget me baby, all you gotta’ do is call
You know how I feel about you, if I can do anything at all
Let me help, if your child needs a daddy, I can help
It would sure do me good to do you good
Let me help
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At Your Service
My first Werewolf by Night fic! I have at least one more in the pipe for this month, but I really wanted to play with the idea of devoted Bloodstone lackey Billy Swan, witnessing all the events of the movie and having his own thoughts and motivations.
Send me a prompt for Nano!
At Your Service
The thing people didn't really understand about being a lackey was that you served the family. Not the current patriarch or matriarch, not your favorite Miss or Mister. Billy Swan wasn’t Master Ulysses’ lackey. He served the Bloodstones. It was an important distinction, to his mind.
It was certainly permissible to have favorites. He did retain a soft spot for Miss Elsa, who had been a delightful child. So savage in her training.
But in the end, you served the family, and part of that service was to ensure the future. However that future was likely to look. It certainly wasn't your call.
So when Master Ulysses had ranted and raved about Miss Elsa's defection, and ordered that all her things be destroyed at once, Billy had nodded and bowed and "yes, master, at once, master"d until Master Ulysses ranted off into another room.
He'd gone into the courtyard, built a jolly bonfire, and allowed the master to see him tossing the odd chair or worn-out bedding into it.
Then he'd gone back, packed up all Miss Elsa's things neatly in boxes, and conveyed them to the attics, which Master Ulysses had never stepped into in his memory, and Billy Swan's memory was very long indeed.
Estranged children came back. It was practically the job description.
When Miss Elsa had arrived at the front door, he’d let her in before scuttling off to let Mistress Verussa know she’d arrived.
And when Mistress Verussa had ordered a cage set up with Miss Elsa and Jack Russell trapped inside, Billy had made sure to select the cage with the most bendable bars, handiest for escape.
As if he wouldn't recognize a Russell werewolf when he saw one. He might be the black sheep - black wolf, rather, ahahaha - of the family, but young Jack had the look of his grandmother, and his great-grandfather, come to think of it.
Billy wouldn't have hesitated to step in where needed, but it really seemed like Miss Elsa and young Jack had worked out a truce between themselves.
So when Mistress Verussa had burned to ash in the midst of a gore-spattered great hall, Billy had mentally totted up all the mops and buckets in the house even before Miss Elsa - ah, no, Mistress Elsa, now - had ordered him to clean up.
He certainly didn't waste any time mourning. Mistress Verussa hadn't been family, after all.
He was a little taken aback when asked to remove all the silver in the house. But a lackey did as he was told, so he said, "At once, mistress," and removed it all to the attics, placing it where all her things had rested before he'd retrieved them.
Mistress Elsa didn't go up in the attics either, and some of those heirlooms were so old Billy didn't even remember receiving them.
He prepared a guest room when young Jack stopped by in his many travels, and made no comment when the bed was never slept in, and Mistress Elsa's bed had clearly hosted two.
He did do a spot of research on werewolf cubs carried by a human mother, and was relieved to find out they rarely had more than one or two at a time and generally survived the process. It was always so nerve-wracking having a Mistress with no children to secure the line. Fragile things, human women. That one time in the fourteenth century when the Mistress had died giving birth and he’d thought for a minute that he’d have to hunt down that inbred second cousin to carry on the name . . .
But the child had survived. So that was fine.
He had no problem taking preventative measures, if need be. But Mistress Elsa would have been very cross with him if he'd shot young Jack with a silver bullet and decapitated him for good measure, which was the general recommendation in these matters.
However, that seemed unneeded.
It would be a change, certainly. Bloodstones had hunted monsters for centuries. But if that was the direction the family was headed, well, he would be here to serve it. That was his job. Besides, it wasn't the first time.
Mistress Verussa had been a real bitch, too.
FINIS
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