London 1880

September…

Eyes, vicious and yellow, glared out of the blackness. Screams—so many screams. Blood covered the floor, spilling from the bodies scattered about, their throats torn. Glassy eyes unseeing, yet accusing in their final stare.

The smell was overpowering. It clawed at him, invading his senses and choking the breath from his lungs. The blood began to bubble and hiss, boiling in the heat. The room became an oven, cooking human flesh and blood.

The yellow eyes pierced the blackness. Smiling. Laughing. The room began spinning. The bodies fell away as the ground began to crumble and crack, revealing an inferno below. The heat. It was too much. It seared him.

Mocking laughter echoed around him, filling his ears along with the screams, the sounds, the cries for help. It all became entwined in his head until it was pulsing, booming, threatening to split him open. He covered his ears but it did no good. The pressure kept building and building and building and he opened his mouth, desperate to try and release some of the burden…

"Will! Will, wake up! Will!"

Will shot bolt upright in bed with a gasp. Every inch of him was covered in sweat. The panic was still there. He could still hear them; the voices, the screams, the laughter. He drew in a shuddering breath, his lungs gasping for air and burning when they received it. He became aware of pain shooting through him like a hundred stabbing knives. It was hot, so hot. He shifted backwards in the bed a little, and his back met the soft pillows behind him, but he found little comfort in them as pain and heat seared his body at the contact. Wincing, he squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on breathing normally through the pain and the burning sensation. Gradually, he became aware of a hand on his arm.

"Will, can you hear me? Are you all right? Will?"

Will opened his eyes. It was Gray. His face was haggard, bandaged on one side, but it was him. He was standing by Will's bed, leaning over him looking concerned. He sighed in relief when Will focused on him, and sat back into a chair by the bed.

"Gray?" Will croaked, and grabbed his throat at the sudden pain. It felt raw and torn.

Gray offered him a glass of water, which Will accepted, surprised to see that his hands were bandaged. Gray raised a bandaged hand of his own to his hair, before looking back at Will with saddened eyes.

"Thank God you're all right. It was bad, Will, as bad as it gets. We barely made it out alive. So many others…so many of the others didn't…" Gray closed his eyes and drew in what appeared to be a painful deep breath.

Will finished drinking and leaned back, letting Gray put down the glass, still half full. Drinking was as difficult as breathing, though he felt marginally better for it. He knew it would hurt like hell to talk, but he had so much to ask. Bits of what had happened before he blacked out were beginning to flicker through his head. He looked around while he waited for Gray to compose himself, and realized he was in an unfamiliar house. The room he was in was small, but lavishly decorated. He turned back to his friend who was now looking at him again.

"What happened? Gray what—" Will paused to fight back a cough, before continuing in a raspy voice that sounded nothing like his own. "I don't—remember much. The barn. Fire. Where are we?"

"We're in a safe-house. Property that belongs to the Watchers Council, actually. We made it to the Club, but we didn't think it would be safe. The Council sent transport as soon as they found out what had happened. We're somewhere on the outskirts of the city. One of the Watchers lives here, so an invitation is required if—" Gray broke off.

They sat in silence for a minute or two. Will relaxed a fraction, knowing where he was, and that it was theoretically safe. Before he attempted to speak, Gray held up a hand to silence him and continued.

"You got us out, Will. The loft, it—there was a hatch, a window, whatever you want to call it, where Angelus must have got in and out. It was a long way up, but with the place on fire and the walls—the thatched roof was ablaze and falling down around us, even the floor of the loft was becoming unstable—It was a leap of faith through a ring of fire. Hurt like hell for a lot of people. One or two broke a leg. You twisted your ankle fairly badly. Hobbs wrenched his knee. But we got out. About seven—no, eight of us."

"Hobbs is alive then?" Will couldn't help but ask about his other friend.

"Yes. He's angry as hell because he's confined to a bed for a while, but he's alive."

"I don't even remember seeing you."

"No. I didn't even know it was you that got me out until afterwards, when we hauled you up off the ground. I just remember some chap grabbing me by the collar and flinging me at a ladder. Those outside were shouting at anyone up there to jump, so I jumped. Two more came after me before you. You were the last."

"What about—?"

"The vampires were gone by then." Gray scoffed, humourlessly. "Bastards didn't even wait to see it burn. Would've thought they would enjoy…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, before speaking again, his tone harder, more businesslike. "Found some horses and a cart. Loaded up the injured and headed to what we hoped would be a safe place until we could get help. You passed out on the way, but you weren't really with us by then anyway. Haven't woken up 'til now. W e've been here for two days."

Will stared down at the covers on the bed, staring at his bandages and reddened arms as his hands rested above the blankets.

"Smoke inhalation was the worst damage done to us, miraculously. We're all lucky to have still been conscious enough to get out. Bit scorched, and banged up from the fall, but we'll all recover. At least that's what the doctor reckons." Gray's voice betrayed his scepticism.

Will closed his eyes as more images invaded his mind. The loft—The floor cracking, breaking away—The roof caving in—Jumping—It all blurred together in his mind. Yellow eyes and boiling blood erupted in his head and his eyes flew open, back to the decorative room and a silent Gray at his bedside, staring over at the single window. It was just a nightmare he tried to remind himself, then stopped. It wasn't just a nightmare. It was very, very real. The horrors of what had occurred were no less graphic or frightening than what he had imagined in his dream.

"What are they going to do?" Will asked.

"Who?"

"The Council."

"Oh. Nothing. They'll keep us here until we're declared fit and healthy then send us packing, I imagine."

Will clenched his jaw and glared at the window.

"We aren't their concern. We should be thankful they've offered us this much really. They aren't going to go fighting demons, and the Slayer is still too engaged with her own duties." Gray continued.

"It was an attack on us, an attack on their allies, to wipe us out. Whoever helped the vampires set those traps alerted them to our intentions at that meeting, and the Council aren't even going to get to the source of—" Will broke off, and turned away, seething.

"What do you want me to say, Will?" Gray asked, wearily.

"Nothing. I know it's not…It's them, and I should know better than to expect—But we were slaughtered. That can't go unpunished."

"Will. The Hunters are over, slaughtered like you said. We aren't an army any more, not that we ever really were to begin with, but certainly not like we could've been. We can't take them on like this."

Will remained fixed in a stony silence. Gray waited several minutes before sighing and rising to his feet.

"I'll be back later to check on you. I should go and see how Hobbs is doing. He has a habit of making the maids that are tending to him cry. Focus on getting better, Will. Please, just try and do that, all right?"

Will still didn't look away from the window, but gave a slow nod in answer to Gray's request. Gray exited the room quietly. Will waited until he heard the soft click of the latch before shutting his eyes again, and allowing a sob to break free from his lips, as a single tear trickled down his face. Thoughts of his mother entered his head, but Gray had already left. He hoped she was safe. He choked back a second sob and raised his head up, gritting his teeth and forcing his disturbing thoughts back. He remembered Angelus' grin as he backed away into the shadows and opened his eyes again, the tears gone, fury replacing his grief.

***

Will spent most of the day fighting back memories of the barn and his dream. Maids came to check on him and see to his bandages. His skin was raw and tender, but healing. He had been lucky, and hadn't suffered any serious burns, though he may have a few scars. He thought of Gray and his bandaged face. The maids spoke to him, trying to make conversation, but he was in no mood for light-hearted banter and remained stoic for the duration of their duties, and most of the evening until Gray returned. He gave his friend enough time to collapse wearily into the chair before diving into questions that had entered his thoughts since his friend's last visit.

"What's the official word on what happened? And what about friends and family? Is there an investigation?"

"Will, one at a time please, I'll tell you anything I know but you have to slow down, and it's not good to push your voice."

Will gave him an irritated glare and pursed his lips before raising a hand to gesture that Gray should get on with answering his questions. Gray sighed and settled back into the chair, getting as comfortable as he could.

"They said it was a tragedy. That a Club meeting, most likely a Boxing Club, was gathered for a fight when the fire broke out. They said it must have been a lamp that got knocked over, and the fire spread too quickly for it to be contained. They figured it blocked off the exits. Police are reportedly looking into it, but they've most likely been paid to keep things quiet and stick with that story. The families who knew what was really going on have been informed. The families that had been kept in the dark were left with the official story. As for us survivors, we were never there. Anyone we have waiting for us has been informed that we're safe and sound, but away on business for a while."

"So it will be a tragic topic of discussion for a few days and then be forgotten about, all nice and neat."

"People aren't ready to know, Will, and who would believe them if they told the truth?"

"It just seems so pointless. Those men are dead. It's my fault."

"No."

Will closed his eyes as he felt the guilt rise up again. Their faces flashed in front of him, the accusing stares, never wavering, looking right at him.

"It is. I arranged that meeting. We were all gathered in one isolated spot, perfectly situated for them to pick us off. God we were so foolish. It was so stupid. We shouldn't have gathered there. We should have tried to leave the minute Angelus showed himself and fought our way out instead of waiting there to be burned alive."

"Damn it, Will, no! It wasn't your fault, don't you dare say that, don't you dare."

Will met Gray's gaze and was taken aback by the anger in the man's watery eyes. Gray pointed a finger at Will and frowned as he spoke, his voice shaking slightly.

"You wanted us to meet, but you had no say in where that meeting took place. It wasn't your decision, and maybe in hindsight it was foolish to gather there, but nobody thought Angelus would turn up. No one suspected it might not be safe with every Hunter in the city there. You couldn't have known any more than the rest of us what would happen, and you can't blame yourself for not predicting Angelus' plans. No one could. He's a monster. Only a monster could get inside his head to understand him, and that's not what you are, Will, so how could you have possibly known? You didn't kill those men, that thing did. I'm alive right now because of you. Eight men from that barn are breathing, including yourself, because you got us out. Don't you dare say it was your fault, Will. Don't. I'll kill you myself if I have to listen to you blame yourself for that."

Gray waited, his gaze held Will's until Will nodded, subdued. Gray relaxed a little and leaned back in his chair again. Will noticed just how tired his friend seemed. Suddenly he felt guilty for a different reason.

"Have you slept at all since that night?"

Gray released a short chuckle and looked over at the window again, chewing on the corner of his lip.

"No, not really. I close my eyes and it just comes back. I'm one of the healthier of us invalids. I've been doing the rounds, keeping the bed-ridden chaps like yourself and Hobbs up to speed, and in good company. The housekeeper's been at me to rest, but I can't. I've tried. I do realize I can't just stay awake all the time, but it doesn't feel like rest. Any sleep I do get is broken, and fitful, and I just end up feeling more exhausted when I wake up than before I closed my eyes. It's like a battle, and I'm losing."

Will didn't know what to say to his friend. Who was he to lecture him on sleeping when he himself was afraid to close his eyes for fear of reliving the nightmare that haunted him during the day as well as at night? Asleep, his guard would be down, and the horrors would burst free of their restraints to plague his thoughts. He had to get better soon. He couldn't stay confined to a bed in some strange house any longer. Stiff, sore and weak, he may be, but it shouldn't take long for him to be fit enough to move about again, so that he could see the other survivors, and figure out what to do now. As curious as he was about Gray's face, he didn't have the courage to bring it up. Gray coughed and rose to his feet.

"I think I'll do one last round of the place before I retire. Putting off sleep won't help either, but maybe I can dull my brain enough to find a few moments rest."

"They let you drink?"

"Are they going to try and stop me? They don't like it, but I'm not trying to drown myself, so if they know what's good for them, they'll keep quiet and stay away from me. I'll see you tomorrow, Will."

"Tomorrow."

Will watched his friend leave and eased down into the bed. He could barely handle water right now, let alone liquor, but he longed for something to quiet his active mind before slipping into slumber. He would wait it out as long as he could, but he could feel his eyes growing heavy, his body longing to retreat back to the less taxing state of unconsciousness so it could heal. For the first time since he first learned about the existence of real demons, Will was afraid of the dark, but this time it was the darkness behind his own eyelids that he feared the most.

***

Several days later, Hobbs was sitting on a bench in the garden with Gray, listening to the birds and the wind, but not really hearing them, his own thoughts buzzing too loudly in his head.

"How is he?" Hobbs asked, suddenly breaking the silence between them.

Gray turned to him, and raised his one remaining eyebrow questioningly. His bandages were gone by now, but the scars were still visible on the right side of his face where he had been burned by the fire, a clump of blazing thatch having fallen on him before he had hurled himself out of the loft. His other eyebrow had been singed off, as well as some of his hair. Though he wasn't horribly disfigured, it was still a shock to see his marred features.

"What do you mean, how is he? You've seen him yourself, you know how he is."

"I've seen him, yes, but I haven't talked to him. Not recently at least, and when I did there was simply something missing…He seems off somehow. You've talked to him more than I have. I thought maybe you knew what's going on inside his head."

"Hobbs, I have a difficult enough time dealing with what's in my own head without daring to enter his, and to that end, no. I don't know what's going on with him, all right? All I know is that he won't let go of this notion of retribution. I've talked to him more because I've been trying to convince him to give up on it before he does something insanely stupid, or at least to wait until we have better resources. Talking to him more than you have doesn't mean I've got any more of a response out of him than what you've heard the past few days. He's completely closed off. He won't answer me, barely acknowledges my presence, and if I get in his way to try and make him respond he just glares daggers at me and shoves his way past. He barely eats or sleeps, and I'd love to say he's worrying me by getting arse over tit drunk, but he isn't. He just locks himself up in his room or the study or the measly excuse for a training room and goes through the same routine every night. The only one he does speak to is the messenger to his mother, and that's just to say 'Thanks' and 'Here' when they exchange the letters. It's driving me up the wall just watching him."

"Well, we have to do something. We can't just let him carry on like this. It isn't healthy."

"You are being awfully bloody insightful today aren't you?"

"I just don't think we should sit by and watch him cut himself off. He's going to do something rash very soon if we can't get a handle on him." Hobbs insisted, looking over his shoulder in case of eavesdroppers.

Gray rolled his eyes at his companion's behaviour and crossed one leg over the other, then folded his arms.

"Don't you think I know that? What do you suggest we do? I've just told you he won't listen to a word I say, whether it's reasonable or not. Ever since I gave him my opinion on his plans to go hunting Angelus and his clan, he hasn't opened his mouth, which is more worrying because now I have absolutely no idea how far those plans have gone already."

"What exactly was your opinion?"

"That it was bloody ludicrous, of course!"

"Well it's no wonder he won't bloody talk about them now then, is it? Really, you know he hasn't been right since what happened. You don't think you could have tried to ease him into listening to reason?"

Gray uncrossed his legs to kick angrily at the pebbles beneath his feet and scowled.

"Of course I tried it. He wouldn't listen to reason, and he kept going on and on, and cutting me off every time I tried to argue so I had enough and I lost it. It was the only thing I said that he actually seemed to hear, and I thought that would be the end of it. When I went up to him the next day he ignored me. Something he's been doing ever since."

"I don't understand. We were all there that night. Does he not see that it affects us as much as it does him? We all want Angelus staked and the dead avenged but we aren't looking to commit suicide to do it. Why can't he hold on to his second chance at living instead of killing himself inside?"

"Oh, he knows we're affected by it, but Will feels guilty. This is something he feels he has to do."

Hobbs twisted around in his seat so he could face Gray directly. His brow was knitted in confusion as he tried to make sense of what his friend had just told him. He couldn't.

"What do you mean he feels guilty? What the hell does he have to feel guilty for? He didn't invite Angelus to the gathering or set the place on fire."

"You know that, and I know that, and I explained it to him the second he told me, but it doesn't change what his mind is telling him. He's been having nightmares about it—"

"So have the rest of us."

"Yes, but Will's are about all those who died accusing him for letting it happen. The way he sees it, it was him that arranged that meeting, regardless of Woollam-Evans having the final say, and he thinks he should have known better than to allow it to happen in a location that wasn't safe. Angelus spoke directly to him. He attacked Will first. He's heard of him, and if he hears that Will survived a second time…"

Gray trailed off, clenching his fists and looking back at the estate, toward the window of the library where their friend was no doubt locked away, furiously working out a strategy against his nemeses.

"You think Angelus will come after Will again if he knows he's alive?" Hobbs asked eventually, a little more subdued.

"I'd say it's guaranteed, and Will knows it."

"Then why go looking for him? His life is in danger and he shouldn't be preparing to expose himself like this."

"Hobbs, he knows. What he's worried about is getting anyone else killed because Angelus is after him. He wants to strike first and eliminate the threat before anyone else dies. Why do you think he only comes out to receive word from home? He's afraid. He's afraid of what will happen if he sits here waiting for trouble to find him first. He's shut us out because this is something he is determined to see through to the end, with or without our help, and I'm sure he's happier we stay out of it instead of putting our lives at risk, which is why he's being so damn cold towards us now."

"So what do we do? We can't just sit here and wait for him to run off one night. Are we really going to just stay out of it? I don't think it's a good idea to go after those three, but I'll be damned if I let him go off and make a martyr of himself because of misplaced guilt. I'm happy as a pig in shit to be alive, but that doesn't mean I'm going to retire to lead some meaningless life and give up what I was raised my whole life to do. I'm a Hunter, and if my friend is going to go out there and hunt those bastards then I'm going with him, whether he likes it or not. I only wish he had a solid plan of attack."

"Maybe he has. It's been a while. He might have something all worked out, but I doubt it."

Hobbs frowned a little and seemed to be contemplating what he wanted to say. The brash man was accustomed to just blurting out whatever entered his head. He never usually considered the effect of his words. Gray rolled his eyes and released a loud breath.

"Come on, out with it man. Whatever it is, just say it. It's a little late to become the sensitive type now."

"What about you? I know you don't agree with what he's doing, but are you really going to just stay here and watch us both head off looking for three notorious vampires?"

"I've never much cared for holding back because the odds are against us, but there's a difference between being the underdog and going into something you know you don't stand a chance of winning. Of course I don't want to watch you both go to your deaths, and that's what'll happen if you go, but if we go out there and die, then who's going to reorganize the Hunters in the area? We've been practically obliterated. Most of the others who survived the fire want to abandon hunting altogether. The ones who don't, prefer to wait until the Scourge of Europe moves on again before going back out into those streets. This place is going to become a demon's dream home very soon. I think what we should be doing is getting in touch with Hunters in other regions. We should look for new recruits and regroup then come up with a way to take them on, with an army as we had planned initially, not just a few foolhardy men looking for revenge."

Hobbs chewed that thought over. He agreed with Gray, but he knew they wouldn't convince Will to wait, and he didn't want his young friend going out there alone. Gray sighed loudly and stood up. He turned to face Hobbs, placing his hands in his pockets.

"Are you going to sit out here all day? Or shall we go inside and try to talk to the madman?"

Hobbs nodded and rose up from the bench, falling into step beside Gray as they headed back to the house. As they drew nearer, they caught sight of a figure on a horse approaching from the road. Whoever it was, he was in a hurry. Both men were curious, as it was rare for any visitors to come to their little sanctuary except the messenger or the doctor. They decided to head around to the main entrance to see what was going on, their curiosity getting the better of them. Their feet crunched along the gravel as they got closer and Gray gasped, halting in his tracks. Hobbs frowned at him.

"What is it?"

Gray began to hurry towards the entrance, his pace increasing rapidly, and Hobbs had to rush to keep up. The horse's rider was visible now, a young, somewhat scrawny man with brown hair that Hobbs couldn't help but find somewhat familiar.

"It's Charlie." Gray explained, quickly, as the horse was brought to a stop, the rider practically falling from its back.

"Who?"

"Charlie. Will's stable-hand. He's the only one who knows Will's a Hunter and why he's really here."

Realization dawned on Hobbs at last and they both reached the door just as it was opened to Charlie who clutched at the doorframe breathing hard, one hand clutching his stomach. The sight of his deathly pale skin and the beads of sweat on his forehead weren't reassuring.

"Charlie? What's happened, man?" Gray asked, grabbing hold of the feeble young man who became like dead weight in Gray's hands as he eased him to the ground.

"Master…Will." Charlie wheezed out, before closing his eyes and slipping into unconsciousness.

Gray looked up at the curious servants gathered at the door, gaping.

"Help me get him inside and call for a doctor, and for the love of God someone fetch Mr. Pratt immediately!" he shouted, making them jump and flurry into action. Hobbs and two of the servants helped Gray carry Charlie inside and up to one of the vacant rooms, while one rushed off to send for a doctor and the rest ran off to find Will.

They had just gotten Charlie settled and were staunching the flow of blood from a wound in his stomach when the door burst open and a dishevelled looking Will entered. Gray and Hobbs met his eyes with worry and fear. He took one look at the bed and they saw the panic set in.

He drew nearer to the bed, looking down at his injured servant. "No. Please, no," he whispered.