A Long Way From Home
A/N: I'm reading Faulkner, hence my disturbing foray into existentialism.
It's sadly true,
Please don't sue,
Hamilton, Joss, I love you,
But I am not you
(and thus, don't own your creations)
His latest job had been disappointingly easy to finish, once he found the wolf. Kidnapping, torturing, raping, and infecting children was the British werewolf’s specialty, and the family of a particularly beloved victim (usually Greyback stuck to abused children, to lessen the chance of someone coming after him) had hired him.
In the back of his mind, he had known it was possible Greyback would already have his next victim in his grip, but he hadn’t really planned for such an eventuality.
The brunet toddler squirmed on the hook, held up by his lashed arms, which Greyback had looped over a cliché meat-hook. Brown eyes started to water, but the boy made no more than a sniffle, already well aware of how useless tears were. The kid was naked, bloody from numerous cuts and gashes, and absolutely helpless.
If he hadn’t tracked Greyback to his warehouse, to this exact room, who knew how long the kid would have been left here? What if he’d never been found – had died like this, exposed and bleeding and – hell, he couldn’t leave the boy here.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave the boy anywhere, after this.
The man stepped out of the shadows, making the kid freeze and stare like a stunned deer.
He held his palms up. “I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again. The beast is dead.”
“Monster’s gone?” asked the boy, lip trembling.
“I killed the monster, kid. Don’t worry.”
The kid swallowed. “G-good. C-can you help me down?”
“Sure thing,” he replied, easily lifting the boy from the hook, but not letting him go. “Did the monster bite you?” He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy as he untied his wrists.
“Did he scratch you and draw blood?”
“I-I d-don’t think so.”
“Good. What’s your name?”
“A-Alexander. Wh-what’s yours?”
“Edward. It’s nice to meet you, Alexander. Do you have parents who are looking for you?”
Alexander shook his head. “I-I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Well no, I didn’t think you were. Where are you supposed to be?”
“You’re a long way from home, then. This is Wyoming.”
“I-I’m not supposed to be here,” Alexander repeated.
“Will your parents be angry?”
Alexander shook his head. “Th-they don’t care. ‘Specially not now.”
“What do you mean?” Edward asked, carrying Alexander out to his car.
“They died with the town.”
“The town? What town?”
“It’s not here. The town is dead, but the town isn’t here – was never here. Principal deviation; barriers between the demonic worlds and our own – your own and my own, principally deviant worlds built on different foundations of supernatural versus preternatural. Ignorance and blindness and majority soulless vampires with minority souled demons versus widespread knowledge and fear and prejudice and diverse souls in vampires with majority soulless demons in tiny minority.”
“Sunnydale is a hole you never knew. Life as I knew it never existed to you. I’m not from this dimension.”