London 1880

November...

"People are staring," Drusilla commented, idly, as yet another passerby glanced at the foursome and stopped abruptly, before bowing his head and scurrying away.

"That's because the boy didn't clean up. He's got blood smeared all over his shirtsleeve and in his hair. Is it any wonder people are gawking at us?" Angelus responded.

"Well this is hardly practical, is it? How are we supposed to move through the city with him in that state? It's going to cause problems." Darla huffed.

"I think red suits him," Drusilla said gleefully, petting William's chest and pushing the messy curls out of his face.

Darla just rolled her eyes and Angelus sighed loudly.

"Look, why don't you two go your own way and we'll go ours? Or better yet, let the boy go off by himself and find someone to eat. We'll have a better time without him around, the way he's acting. I really think this one's broken, Dru. Wouldn't you prefer someone else?" Angelus asked, almost hopefully.

"No."

"Well that was straightforward, wasn't it?" Angelus muttered, giving up.

William had been almost catatonic since they'd left the Hunter's house. He simply trailed after them, staring at the ground, not even noticing the stares of passersby. Suddenly a frown creased his face and his head jerked up. He looked at each of his companions, finally settling his gaze on Angelus.

"You're right," he said.

They all stared at him. Angelus leaned his head forward, tilting it to the side as if he hadn't heard William properly, his brow creased in confusion.

"What was that?"

"You're right. I'll go my own way. You go interrupt a party or visit the theatre. I have other places I can hunt—er, kill."

William awaited a response. They continued to stare at him, baffled.

"William?" Drusilla asked a little bewilderedly, which was unusual for her.

"He's right, Dru. I'll only get in the way. I'm not fit for high society slaughters just now. I'll stay on the streets—maybe try the East End or somewhere. You go on. I'll meet you back at the house."

"What are you up to?" Angelus asked, now fully suspicious.

"Nothing."

"You're never this agreeable, William. What's changed? You've been off since we found you with the dead Hunters."

"It's nothing. I just agree with you for once. You make sense, and I can't be seen at those high class establishments you want to go to and maintain your usual—finesse."

This was the most William had ever spoken so agreeably to any of them. Darla quirked an eyebrow, the only sign the sudden turnaround had drawn any reaction of surprise from her, before shrugging and staring at her gloved fingers. Angelus held eye contact with William for a long time, searching for any sign that William was plotting something. Eventually, he stood up straight again and relaxed.

"Okay then. Go. Be back at the house before sunrise. We'll meet you there. Come on, Dru."

"You want to leave me?" Drusilla asked William, ignoring Angelus and sounding almost hurt.

William softened, looking down at her with tenderness. He stroked her cheek with his un-bloodied hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

"No, love, of course not. It's better for you if we go our separate ways just now, that's all. I'll meet you back at the house after I've fed, I promise."

Dru seemed appeased by this and a happy, if slightly disturbing smile, spread across her lips.

"All right, William."

She twirled around and took the arm Angelus offered her, looking back at William once as they walked away down the street.

William watched them leave and when they turned a corner, released a long breath he hadn't needed. He looked down at the black stain on his hand and shirtsleeve, swallowing hard a few times. Upon closing his eyes, they were there again, blank eyes staring up at him, accusing and—disappointed. He cut off the whimper that rose in his throat and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were hard, cold, and predatory. Taking one last look at the bustling street in front of him, he spun around, his brown coat whirling behind him and stalked off into the night.

***

He was full now, but he still didn't stop. He was just finishing up his third kill and had every intention of finding another, only this time he wouldn't feed, just kill. It had been difficult at first. He almost choked as he tried to drain his victim, the blood rushing into his mouth not as satisfying as it should be, spoiled by images of broken bodies, sightless eyes, quiet pleas and apologies. Growling, he pulled his fangs out of the mangled throat beneath them and shoved the body away from him, whereupon it fell with a loud splash into the water, floating face down. His yellow eyes observed the shadowy shape before he stalked off, more determined than ever to find another body to add to those he'd left littering the harbor. He had decided to go to the docks to hunt. The crass sailors and dock workers were more to his taste of victim right now anyway. He'd had enough of blue blood for a while.

"Oi! What're you doin' down there, mate? You aren' s'posed to be here," a voice called down to him.

William looked up and saw a large man standing on some crates to his left. He watched as the man approached, dropping down the stacked up crates as if they were stairs. His heavy boots slammed against the wooden boards with a heavy thud that echoed into the darkness and boomed like thunder in the vampire's ears.

"What's the matter? You deaf or dumb or both? Clear off, now."

The man scowled at William, who hadn't moved a muscle, just continued to stare at him. He took in William's appearance and took a step back upon noticing the blood. It was all over him. His formerly white shirt was covered with stains, and despite the darkness, at such a close distance even human eyes could spot the shimmering wetness trailing down his chin and neck from his mouth. The man took two steps back and raised his hands defensively.

"What the bloody 'ell? Look, mate—" The man's voice came to an abrupt halt when his eyes landed on William's face again, this time taking in the bumps and ridges, and the glowing eyes.

"What's the matter, mate?" William asked, mimicking the worker's strong accent. "Not gonna bite." He grinned, flashing his fangs. "Or maybe I will."

The man backed up quickly, but William advanced, still grinning.

"Stay away! Stay back! I'm warning you!"

"Warning me, are you?" William asked, chuckling. He was enjoying this. He found he rather liked talking in the thick, uncultured accent. "And what, pray tell, are you gonna do to me, eh?"

The man was trembling now. He turned with the intention of running but never had the chance. William tackled him to the ground, straddling the man's back and grabbing his head. One startled cry was all the man managed before the vampire had yanked his head back, snapping his neck. William let the man's head hit the wooden boards of the dock with a loud thud like the noise his boots had made earlier. Slowly, he stood up, sniffed and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. He cocked his head, examining the victim.

It was definitely easier that time. Quick, clean, no flashes, no sickness, it felt good. It was getting easier each time he killed. He wanted to do it again. He was becoming bored with the docks. It was time to set his sights on pastures new. Enough bodies lay in his wake here for now. William found a barrel full of water nearby and, cupping his hands, splashed some of the liquid onto his face to remove as much of the blood as he could. Glancing down at his ruined shirt he thought for a minute before heading back to his latest victim and quickly relieving him of his much cleaner one. Stripping the soaked and filthy garment off, William donned the new one which was a bit too big but would suffice for now, and shrugged his coat back on. Smoothing his mess of curls back with one hand, he took a last look at the body before leaving, heading back into the city.

***

William hummed away to himself in a more chipper mood as he strolled down the streets. He couldn't describe the change in him exactly, all he knew was that the more he killed the better he felt, or rather didn't feel—at all. That's what Angelus had been stressing to him for so long. Vampires didn't feel, and William agreed—except ever since he'd crawled out of his own grave that night and his memories had come back to him, he'd been struggling with what suspiciously resembled emotions.

Why, he wasn't sure, but every time he'd thought about what he was, he'd had an urge to vomit or look for a stake. Some shred of a survival instinct had prevented him from dusting himself, and instead he'd struggled with his memories, trying to come to terms with what he was. There were only a few occasions when he hadn't been repulsed by feeding or killing, and mostly it had been because he couldn't remember them. It was as if he drifted away to some dark corner where everything was blissfully quiet only to suddenly be back in his own body, death and scenes of carnage before him. The disappearance of the thirst had been the condemning proof that he had been the cause.

Now though, he was able to kill without guilt or remorse and without losing sense of time. This was the way it should be. It was coming naturally to him. He no longer cared about his victims. They were faceless screams in the night moments before the deathly silence descended—the silence created by him. He was a monster that prowled through the darkness, putting an end to anyone foolish enough to cross his path.

William felt the heavy piece of metal weighing down his left coat pocket, and stroked the cold, hard surface, humming more loudly. Coincidence or fate, it didn't matter, William had seen the thing and known what he had to do. The thought had made him smile. Drusilla was always talking about her "Black Prince" and how he was a new creature now. Everything was going to change for him, and she was right. He finally felt free—ready to become her Dark Knight and do all those nasty little deeds she'd whispered to him at night as they traveled the globe.

He emerged from the quiet alleyways onto one of the main streets and weaved his way through the throngs of people still humming merrily to himself. He meandered through the busy streets until he reached his destination. Finally he stopped walking, his humming abruptly cut off, and William gazed up at the townhouse, lit up like a beacon as music and laughter floated down to the cold street below. He viewed it almost quizzically, his head tilting slightly to the right. It was so full of life. It made him grin. His hand wrapped around the object in his pocket and he strode forward heading straight for the door.

Entering the premises wasn't much of a hassle. No one paid any attention to the door being answered with all the guests milling about, and thus no one noticed when William walked past them with his arm around the doorman, who had found himself quite suddenly retired. Shoving him into a closet out of sight, William made his way into the heart of the party, his eyes scanning the crowd. There was no possible way to avoid an all out panic tonight with what he was about to attempt, but he'd make damn sure he got what he came for. He spied three of his targets, but the fourth was missing. Oh well, Cecily would live to break more hearts it seemed. Satisfied that he could at least fulfill Ralph's wishes, he pushed his way past the offended and scandalized guests in his way and approached the small group giving Ralph their full attention.

"So I said to Miss Mabel, I said, perhaps on this occasion looking a gift horse in the mouth would have been the wiser course of appraisal," Ralph said, grinning.

His audience laughed in delight, one woman giggling almost uncontrollably as she held one gloved hand to her chest.

"Well, she said, the next time I have a portrait of a new horse done, I shan't be including the carpet in the scene," Ralph continued, triggering another bout of laughter as he took a large sip of champagne.

Loud clapping rose above the noise of the merry group and their laughter died away as they turned to face the source. William continued his slow clap as every pair of eyes in the room settled on him. Eventually he stopped, smiling as he watched Ralph's eyes narrow.

"Bravo. You're as captivating as ever I see. Maybe you should consider performing on stage professionally. You do love the attention, after all."

"William," Ralph said, shrugging off his surprise and annoyance, "I didn't think we'd be seeing you at one of our functions again. Didn't exactly dress for the occasion either, did you? Found an audience for your poetry among the street urchins and miscreants, have you?" he asked, with a smirk.

William smiled back coldly and had the pleasure of watching the man shiver despite his bold exterior. There was something to be said for being inhuman. It made the most innocent of gestures seem chilling as long as you retained emptiness in your eyes.

"I'd have thought you'd want me to regale you with one of my fine works. You seemed so eager to read them out before," William said, turning to survey their audience, sensing Ralph tense up behind him. He tightened his hold on the piece of metal in his pocket. "Oh yes, I almost forgot."

William whirled around so fast no one had time to react. He withdrew the railroad spike from his pocket and used his full force in swinging it in a downward arc to Ralph's head. There was a sickening crunch as it broke through the skull and embedded itself in the man's brain. William still had a firm grip on the shaft of the weapon sticking out of the top of Ralph's head. The man had a dazed expression, as if he'd just been clubbed rather hard. He opened his mouth and blood trickled down his chin. The body began to sink to the ground, and using his supernatural strength with one hand on Ralph's shoulder, William performed the impossible task of removing the spike again, straining his muscles from the force. A chunk of Ralph's skull popped out with the spike as the body dropped like a stone to the floor. William studied the bloodied, gore covered weapon and gave one long low whistle at its effectiveness.

A woman screamed and a glass shattered. The noise seemed to jerk the stunned observers out of their trance and chaos ensued. William turned and watched, amused, as people fled in horror. They were in such a hurry to get away that they were knocking each other over, trampling those who fell before them, ignoring their screams and shouts of pain. The mass of people surged to the doorways and their sheer numbers blocked the exits, so they had difficulty shoving through to escape. William grabbed a nearby partygoer in mid flight and jabbed the spike through the man's chest, releasing it with a sickening squelch, blinking as blood sprayed outwards across his face. The screams intensified as people glanced behind them and caught the show.

"Leaving so soon? I thought this was supposed to be a party?" William shouted. "Come on then, let's have some fun!"

William rushed forwards stabbing more people. The killing was invigorating. He laughed aloud at the sensations washing over him. He felt free for the first time in a long time. Their shouts and cries and screams fuelled his mirth and he smiled a toothy grin as he cut them down. Eventually, seeing no alternative as they were near the back of the crushing crowd trying desperately to flee the house of death, a group of men turned and attempted to fight William.

"Ohoho, goin' on the offensive now are we boys?" William asked, slipping back into the uncultured slang of the dock worker. "All right lads, let's have us a real fight then."

William beckoned them forward with a smirk, goading them into attacking. He could see the way they trembled with fear and it thrilled him. They each grabbed the nearest thing to a weapon they could find; vases, a candelabra, one man even grabbed a coat rack.

"Stay back you monster! Whatever's wrong with you just stay away! You'll hang for what you've done!" the man with the coat rack cried, swinging his makeshift weapon wildly.

William leaned back, easily dodging the swing and chuckled. "Monster is it? You just hit the nail on the head there mate." Knowing they wouldn't put up much of a fight anyway, William decided to cut the standoff short, switching into his demon guise. Predictably, they screamed.

Two of them dropped their weapons and the remainder stared in horror at the yellow eyed creature that resembled a disfigured man standing before them. A few women nearby fainted, thus sealing their doom. Raising his head to the ceiling, William released a demonic roar and continued the bloodshed, sometimes using the spike, sometimes just his bare hands or his fangs. He didn't feed from them. His thirst had been satisfied long ago. This was a different hunger—all consuming and shockingly brutal.

Outside, the citizens walking the streets of London had come to a standstill, frozen by a morbid fascination with the sight of the fleeing crowd, and the sharp wailing that signified intense pain and death ripping apart the night.

***

Whistling merrily to himself, William strolled in the door and barely had time to turn around before a crushing pressure landed on his throat and his back was pressed against the solid wooden surface.

"What. The. HELL! Were you thinking?" The harsh male voice spat at him.

William sucked in his cheeks and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Nice to see you too, granddad," he wheezed out.

Angelus narrowed his eyes and slammed William back against the door again. "Do you have the slightest idea what you've done?" he asked, furiously.

"Why don't you enlighten me?" William responded, bitterly.

"Insolent little shite." Angelus stormed away abruptly, freeing William who adjusted his collar and rubbed his bruised throat. "Me and mine have ripped the world apart for years. We've blazed a path through history until our names have become feared among all those who stand for good in this piss soaked, rat infested world, but never have we done anything so incredibly stupid as what you've accomplished in one night," Angelus began, pacing about the room as he worked up to what was sure to be another blistering tirade.

"That mean I'll earn my own spot in the history books then?" William asked, his voice slurring a bit.

Angelus spun round quickly, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked at William, this time taking a closer look at his grandchilde. "What?"

"You know, for accomplishing something you've never done—and all in one night. I'd say that's worth a mention in the books, eh?" William elaborated, stumbling over to the drinks cabinet and pulling the door open so hard it was ripped from his hinges. The momentum upset his balance, making him teeter on his heels for a second before he righted himself, shrugged, and tossed the door to the floor behind him, making the glass panels within the frame shatter.

"What's going on?" Darla asked, emerging from her bedroom. She took in the sight of William examining a bottle from the cabinet and pulling the stopper out with his teeth, spitting it out and taking a large swig of the contents. "Oh, the boy's back." She sighed.

"You're drunk," Angelus stated.

"And on the way to being blindingly pissed, thank you very much," William countered, tipping the bottle in Angelus' direction before tossing back another mouthful of alcohol.

"What's wrong with him?" Darla enquired.

"I'm wondering that myself," Angelus retorted, completely thrown. This was a whole new William, and he liked him even less.

"William?" Dru's soft voice called, as she entered the room.

William turned to her, grinning broadly. "Dru, luv! How was your night, ducks?" he asked, staggering over and pulling her against him.

"You smell like death," she cocked her head, "and a brewery." She studied him for a minute before her eyes lit up and she giggled. "It's divine."

William leered at her. Curling his tongue up to touch his top teeth, he leaned in closer. "Glad you like it, pet. I'm growin' rather fond of it myself."

"Who are you?" Angelus asked, shaking his head at the sickening display.

William looked up at him and smirked. "You mean what have I done with the broody poofter that couldn't bear to have his shirtsleeves sullied?"

Angelus blinked and shifted agitatedly. "Well, since you put it that way—"

"Don't rightly know, mate. All I can tell you is, he's gone. Must be that taste for pain you were tellin' me about—the art of killing and all that bollocks." William waved a hand dismissively. "Started to kick in is all."

"It couldn't have set in when we were around to ensure you didn't destroy any chance we had to leave this city without unpleasant complications?"

"Would have stifled my creativity," William answered, sarcastically. He turned so he was facing Angelus fully, one arm thrown around Dru's shoulder, still holding the bottle precariously by the neck with the other. "What's got your breeches in a knot? Path through history, violence and bloodshed—it's all you've been banging on about for weeks and now you want to lecture me for doing just that?"

"You've put us at risk!"

"I've done what?" William asked, laughingly.

"You've exposed us. You think we have an option of staying in the city after what you've done? We can't even stay in the country let alone this house."

"Movin' on anyway, weren' we," William slurred, dismissing Angelus with a wave of his hand and downing more alcohol.

Angelus was losing his temper, judging from the scowl on his face and his clenched fists. William was in too good a mood to care.

"Look here you little upstart—" Angelus spat, pointing a finger at William.

He was interrupted by a shout from the street outside. The vampires exchanged glances and Angelus and Darla headed to the windows. Carefully they eased the heavy drapes aside to look down onto the street. An orange glow lit up their faces, coming from outside, which was odd in itself. Sunrise was less than an hour away, but it shouldn't be that bright outside yet.

"What's all the ruckus then?" William asked, as he watched Angelus' expression darken further at whatever sight lay outside.

Letting the curtain fall back into place, Angelus faced William, his look murderous.

"Now you've done it. Not only did you go on a rampage that has the entire city in an uproar, but you led them right to us! It's a mob!"

"A what?" William asked, stepping forward, eager to take a look outside himself. Angelus held him back lest he give them away in his drunken state.

"A mob, William, pitchforks and torches, the whole lot. We have to get out of here before we find ourselves trapped."

"And where do you suggest we go?" Darla asked, crossly, folding her arms.

"Anywhere we can hide for now," Angelus answered, impatiently.

He released William and grabbed his discarded coat from the back of a nearby chair, shrugging it on hurriedly. "Time to move, grab what you need and let's go."

William raised his eyebrows at Darla's scowl and finished the contents of his bottle as she pushed by him. Tossing it away carelessly, he ignored the smash as it shattered against a wall and followed his sires, pausing to grab another bottle from the cabinet on his way out. At Dru's knowing look, he hid the item inside his coat pocket and tossed an arm around her, giving Angelus an innocent smile when the older vampire turned to glare at him.

"Lead the way then," William said, gesturing forwards, watching Angelus' scowl deepen. "If those eyes of yours narrow any further, you could pass for Asian, mate," he added.

Angelus yanked the door open so hard it banged against the wall, leaving a crack in the plaster. The furious vampire stalked into the hall muttering a string of curses and Irish profanities as he led his family out of the building via a well hidden back door and hopefully, away from the enraged mob William had led to their lair.