The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

This was decidedly cruel, the Hunter had decided, that this vampire was toying with his emotions like so. That he was forced to see the face of the person he had loved most in the world. It was so cruel, and yet an entirely effective way to keep himself alive. Will would not be able to harm this face. Even that thin red line where the blade had rested against his neck was enough to make the Hunter feel ill. He could not harm Sebastian. He couldn't even think of it. He was utterly convinced that this vision was toying with his emotions. In fact, he'd been close to simply walking away with the vampire alive when those ribbons had coiled in the palms of those pale hands of his. He may not have known exactly what that weapon would have done if wielded, but William found he had little care for it. He would not fight this man. Where hearing the last dying breath of a vampire usually made his skin crawl with pleasure, this one would only cause him harm. He was, after all, wearing the face of the man he was doing this all for. It had been a vampire that had taken his Sebastian away from, and as such he would rid the world of the vile creatures.

It was those thoughts alone that had Will reaching into his jacket to retrieve the last of his weapons. He was aware of the tension that seemed to set in the shoulders of his companion, even though Will himself meant no harm by it. His gaze looked abruptly up as he heard that sharp intake of breath. That the vampire recognized it went over his head. He merely thought it was the reaction to the silver, and he held no hesitation in tossing the blade to the concrete at the vampire's feet. Will stepped back, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. The hunter considered walking away, had even planned on it, until the very moment that Sebastian leaned down to trail those slender pianist fingers of his down the silver of the blade. Will's own shoulders tensed as he leaned forward. "Sebastian," The name slipped out of his lips before he could stop it. "Sebastian, that's silver..."

The Hunter seemed to catch himself immediately, his gaze fluttering to the ground at his feet as he tried so desperately to repress the emotions that came along with the slip of Sebastian's name on his tongue. How good it felt to say it. He wanted so desperately to whisper the syllables over and over again. It'd been so long since he'd allowed himself to say his companion's name. He should leave. He should run as far away from this place as he could and get on the first train out of town and never look back. And perhaps he was prepared to do so for just an instant before the vampire cleared his throat and the hunter locked eyes with him. He expected more torture from the man, he supposed, more longing for what he used to have. What he didn't expect, however, was for him to suggest at a memory.

Will could certainly not remember the first time they'd met at court. He met so many people when he had stood by his father's side looking the very picture of the Duke's son. He knew so well how to play the game and smile charmingly. He was sure that he'd met Sebastian then, but it had been a blur of a memory compared to the first night that he'd really met him. He remembered those debutantes well, remembered the monotone way their dresses seemed to blur into one unit. He'd been dancing with Lady Elizabeth at the time, and she had been a positively dreadful partner. An excellent dancer, but a terrible companion in the way she continually spoke about the most mundane things in the room. HIs father had groaned when he'd commented later on it, insisting that William could find a fault in any lady in the room. Will had not disagreed.

But, as it had seemed, he did not have the most disagreeable partner in the room that night. No, that honor had gone to the poor lad who had Lady Catherine as a partner. She had a reputation - as Lady Elizabeth had made sure he knew - of being the worst dancer in all of London, and William was able to see that. Though, he couldn't help but wonder if it was merely the young lady's fault or if she merely had a dreadful partner. It was that alone that had had him crossing the dance floor to attempt to steal the lady away from him - though, Will would later admit to himself, she was a rather plain thing compared to the man she was dancing with. He deserved better.

The mention of this memory was enough to draw a smile to the lips of the stoic Hunter, even drawing out the first few notes of a chuckle. It took him aback. How long had it been since he had truly laughed? "Well I caught her, of course," William's gaze locked onto the blue ones of his companion, the smile growing larger still as he remembered that night. "She was such a nervous creature. You made her so, I'm afraid. But she was shaking when she fell into my arms, and she looked up at me and said 'Duchess, I'm so sorry' before she could catch herself." William let out another laugh, this time a genuine one that didn't sound so foreign, at least not in the presence of Sebastian. "You looked mortified for her. I'll never forget the look on your face. She looked like she could die. I told her that I just knew that my jacket that night made me look like a girl. I said that I had meant to be asking for her hand in a dance, but now I was reconsidering to ask for yours, as a proper Duchess would."

But darling -- it's only human nature.