Chapter Text
A stranger stood on his doorstep. Clothes drenched, breaths heavy. Cropped brown hair sticking to his forehead. And when he lifted his head, and met Aesop’s eyes, he could've sworn that the stare he gave him would've burned through his soul.
Aesop almost missed what the stranger said, too mesmerized by his gaze.
"Kill me."
His expression twisted into something imploring, edging on desperation, as he stumbled forward, clutching Aesop’s hands in a vice grip. The stranger’s hands were colder than anything he’d felt before.
"Please."
Just barely above a whisper. His voice broke, ceramic shattering.
And with that, the stranger crumpled to the ground with a thud.
Aesop was not in the habit of having visitors. But, perhaps he'd make an exception.
---
Red. Pulsating.
Eli felt more alive than he's ever felt in all his life.
Filthy. He's filthy. His hands are shaking, and he feels sticky. The metallic taste is sweet in his mouth, thick blood like nectar. Dripping.
He can feel the warmth draining away from the body in front of him.
They deserved it. But still the world spins around him, and he knows that he didn’t mean it.
How traitorous his body was. He'd gotten to a state of agitation, he’d starved himself too long. He couldn't control himself like this. He didn't think anyone could, when he got like this.
He wants to cry. He’s satisfied. For now. But when tomorrow came, he would be hungry again.
A dream. A nightmare. Both? He couldn't tell, but what he knew for certain, was that he'd gone too far and whoever lay in front of him was dead.
How many times would he tell himself that he'd gone too far? How many tally marks would score the inside of his skull, counting the times that he just couldn't stop himself?
Too much was never enough. Not for him. Not for anyone.
He numbly gets up and begins to stumble his way home, the night cloaking him in its blue black velvet. The moon couldn’t bear the sight, and hid behind the heavy clouds.
Once he's home, he becomes an automaton. Unlock the door. Step in. Walk to his room. Remove bloodied articles of clothing. Go to the washroom and avoid his reflection. Bathe. Watch the red swirl down the drain. Put on fresh clothes.
He’s done this multiple times, now, since he had been bit.
But perhaps a gear in his head had become stuck, or a cog unoiled. Because that night, instead of going to bed, he opened up his address book, and began to flip through its pages.
----
The stranger lay in Aesop’s bed, his face contorted in his sleep.
It wasn’t like he would need it anyways. After that, he would’ve hardly been able to sleep.
For someone who had been so anguished, he was certainly quiet now. Still. Peaceful. Hardly the same man at his doorstep, with the piercing gaze.
A wooden stake carved with magic symbols was nestled in his palm, warm, like it was meant to be there. He had finally placed the ice cold hands- the flash of fangs as the stranger had begged him for death, the scar on the neck. He had a knack for it now, especially after the years of gruelling training that his mentor had put him through.
Of course, the stranger was a vampire. That much was obvious. And yet, he was different. So many had begged for their lives at the very end, promising change, promising that they could be redeemed- not many had delivered themselves to his door begging for death.
Aesop watched him, his minute movements, examining him over and over again. Looking for what could’ve set him apart. But, there was nothing special about him. Not really.
The sun starts to seep through a gap in the curtains, a thin line of gold sliding over the foot of the bed. As if on cue, the stranger begins to stir.
---
Oblivion was what Eli expected. But not what he deserved. His eyes open, and he sees an unfamiliar ceiling. He’s alive. And he’s miserable. He sits up, slowly, and he can already feel the gaze of the vampire hunter on him. Eli turns to face him.
“Good morning.” The hunter says, straightening up with a stretch. He gets up, and goes to the window, closing the curtains completely. Eli’s gaze follows the wooden stake in his hand.
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“What a coincidence. I had the same question for you.”
Eli’s eyebrows knit together in irritation, and he drops his face into his hands. He wasn’t in the mood. He lifts his head again, training his eyes on the stake in the hunter’s hands. Without a moment’s hesitation, he springs out of bed, lunging towards the hunter --
And finds himself hissing in pain, as he’s knocked back. It burns. The chalk sigils on the floor flash red, before returning to white. What did he expect? Eli was in a hunter’s home now. Of course he would know how to bind him.
“You should rest. You should consider yourself lucky that vampires can’t starve to death.” The hunter turns around, returning to his seat by the bed.
Eli groans. He should've figured that out after almost two weeks of abstaining from feeding. But, it hadn't occurred to him until now.
“It’s a curse. I wish I could die.”
"You've made that quite clear."
There are two mugs of steaming hot tea on the nightstand, and they're just beyond his reach. The hunter takes a mug, and sips from it.
"A little blood is a small price to pay for so much power." The hunter doesn't look up from his tea. "Why would you want to give that up?"
Eli gawks at him.
"Just a little blood? You're obviously a hunter. It's not just a little blood."
Eli almost chokes on his words, they're caught in his throat. He tries to push the memories down, the taste of sweetness, the guilt.
"You of all people should know. It's people's lives."
"Perhaps. But one or two, even a dozen lives in the grand scheme of things is nothing. If they're strangers to you, of course." The hunter places the mug back down on the nightstand. "It's not that easy to become so feared. There's a lot you could do, with the world in your hands."
"You're saying that as if killing people is nothing. Like it's easy."
The hunter settles back into his chair with a sigh, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. "It's because it is easy. Easier than you think.
"If the cost of the world was a stranger’s life, would you take it?" Eli retorts. Surely, he wouldn't be so immoral as to-
"Yes. You talk like you think I've never killed someone before."
"Well, you haven't, haven't you? You're a hunter of monsters. Not humans."
"Monsters like you." The hunter responds. Eli stills. It had been so long, since he's had a proper conversation, that this almost made him feel like he was human again. He'd forgotten that his humanity was something he'd already left behind. "Men and monsters aren't as different as you think they are."
The tea had long stopped steaming. It was sitting cold now, just out of his reach. He doesn't feel like asking questions anymore.
The chalk line that divides him and the hunter shimmers ever so slightly. But he had to wonder, who was being protected here.
"So they aren't."
Bitterly, he entreats the hunter again, this time, his voice subdued.
"Then, good hunter, kill me. I've killed plenty of people, it'll be worth your while."
Third time was the charm.
"No. You're the first one who's begged for me to kill them."
"What an honor, to be the first." Eli responds sardonically. "But I doubt it. I'm sure others have wished for the mercy of death."
"Of course they have. But you're the first to come directly to my doorstep. Either you're outrageously stupid or, you may have a chance of redemption in you yet."
Eli lays back down in bed, covering his eyes with his forearm. And he hopes, desperately, that he simply was ridiculously, irredeemably, and outrageously stupid.