She had been a petite thing, with long red hair spiraling down her spine in waves of gossamer silk. John, she had called him. In those few precious moments in which his hands were on her hips and buried in her hair, it was his name she had moaned when he bit into her flesh. John. Her John. And yet, despite how entirely peculiar it might have seemed, Sebastian hardly minded the way in which his entire being seemed to change to match that daydream she so harbored of herself and John. The vampire found that he didn't want his name to fall from her lips. He didn't want to be the object of her affections because, although he might have seemed to be the one she desired, she was so blatantly not the man whom had taken up his own position in all of Sebastian's fantasies. How much things had changed within the past two months. Had he been told he'd be so afflicted with such feelings that might prompt the casanova to even consider commitment, he surely would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. Sebastian was a vagabond by nature, never staying long in a city for more than a few months at a time at most. He had become so used to it that this....settling was entirely foreign to him.

Thankfully, the girl that had been the equivalent of his dinner hardly saw a need to stop him as he stepped away from her, letting his affinities drain from their relentless assault upon her. There was a hint of confusion on her exhausted features as she slowly begun to realize that which she had done with the man that was not her John. Sebastian felt no need to linger, instead quickly leaving behind the alley way of the Voodoo Room he'd so taken to haunting of late. He could hardly deny the place drew him, if only for his intrigue within the bar's owner. The night within the pristine Northern streets was quiet as it so often was, the moon above hung ever so brightly within the sky and yet, her face was cast over by inky grey clouds that so reminded the vampire of his homeland. God, how much he missed England. He missed the halls of Belton far more than even that posh townhouse his family had occupied within Southampton Square in Bloomsbury, despite the memories he had so managed to craft within London. Somehow, all those glorious nights within Queen Victoria's court had been tainted. They were stained red with blood to the point that he found himself unable to get past - and so, he merely never let his thoughts dwell long upon that city, preferring instead his own family's cherished estate any such time he felt the calling of England in his soul.

It was that very prospect of his homeland that so occupied his thoughts. He had intended to return soon - to Belton and those haunted hallways of his yesteryears. Arrangements would have to be made for the company he intended to take, the vampire entirely doubtful his lover would do well with the peculiarity of the plane. The aspect of such seemed to so grab his attention that the vampire was entirely inattentive to the hunter that stalked his path. He knew he was there, of course, somewhere in the back of his mind. His instincts were still entirely on edge, his world aflame with the life that had been afforded him. His senses was somehow more magnified, the vampire able to hear the stranger's heartbeat and yet, he had gotten so use to those exemplary faculties that he too had gotten rather good at ignoring that assault of information upon his brain. In truth, Sebastian had never really had many run ins with the hunter kind. They generally tended to leave him to his own devices if only for the lack of bodies he left within his wake and so, too, this one was hardly hailed as some great threat - at least, at first.

He felt the hand that tugged so sharply at him, the vampire turning to face the figure that so assaulted him with little more than intrigue, only to find his back colliding hard with brick as he was pulled into the alley way. The sting of silver against his collarbone stole the entirety of his attention, the man's lips parting to bare those vampiric fangs as an entirely instinctual hiss left his lips. His own affinities so immediately began to lash out, to feel those pheromones that surrounded the hunter so that he might so manipulate them to his accord before, quite abruptly, he paused. The sound of his name certain drew his gaze to focus entirely upon the man in front of him, his eyebrows furrowing nearly immediately as he stared back at that face in silence for a moment. Sebastian had seen him die. He remembered waking up covered in Will's blood, his own head nestled against William's still chest. He was entirely sure that this was some work of magical aptitude, he just, wasn't sure what. His hand slowly rose, entirely ignoring the silver blade now. His figures reached up towards the hunter's face, pausing with marked hesitance before gingerly reaching out to touch his cheek, as if this might somehow make the man in front of him more...real. "William?" He inquired softly, his accented lyrics entirely filled with the same disbelief he had felt.