A/N: This IS a one shot. It’s my take on what happened to Bill when he was turned and how he perceived himself as both human and vampire, perceptions which, in my POV caused him to be the monster a lot of us see him as.
He felt…different. He felt like he was being crushed by the weight bearing down on him but somehow he knew that that wasn’t possible.
He felt a stirring behind him. What was it? Was it a burrowing animal here to devour him?
He heard…the sounds from above him. The wind whispering through the trees, the animals scavenging in the undergrowth, the words of people passing by.
He smelled. Oh my, he smelled something so sweet, so tempting! He would face death itself to taste that smell!
The thing stirred behind him, again. He turned over to see what it was. It was another person, another such as him, whatever he was.
His gums were itching, burning. Something erupted from his upper gums. He cut his tongue on that something. What was it? He touched it with his finger and cut it. His eyes dilated at the scent of the blood on his finger. Was he a demon now?
His memories were…blurry. How did he end up here, buried beneath the earth? How did he wake again?
He tried hard to remember but he couldn’t, at least not yet.
The being beside him stirred yet again. “My child,” it said.
He scrambled from the earth, faced the grave. Grave? Was he dead? Why was he able to move if he was dead?
The thing erupted from the earth filled grave. “My child,” it said again.
He looked up at the thing from his crouched position. It appeared to be female, whatever it was.
“What are you,” he lisped. Those sharp things in his mouth were preventing him from speaking properly!
“I am your Maker, I created you.”
“No, my parents created me, made me what I am.”
“Yes, they had a hand in it too but you are no longer human. You are something other now. You are a vampire.”
He looked up at her, shocked. He was a demon! He launched himself at her but she evaded his grasp at every turn.
Finally she had had enough. “Stop!” That one word was laden with command. He stopped and fell to his knees, face buried in his hands. He sobbed, he cried, he lashed out at her, his Maker, the demon who had made him to be like her.
“Why!” He cried out.
“Because I wanted you child.”
“I had a life, a wife, children!”
“You are no longer a part of their lives. They think you dead and so you shall remain to those who knew you.”
“No! I must see them!”
“You will not! They will run screaming from you or they will kill you outright. I forbid it!”
He started running in the direction of his former home. When he got to the edge of the dark he stopped. Could he face it if they ran screaming? Could he live with the what if?
He snorted. Live? An undead life? This was no life! He had no need to breathe, he had no beating heart, he was not alive therefore he could not live!
He turned back to go to her but she was right there with him. “Can you do it child? Can you face them running away screaming, especially your children? Can you live with the what if?”
He hung his head in shame.
He was dead, yet not, and he did not have the courage to go back to see his family.
He trudged along after her until he could smell IT again.
“What IS that smell?”
“That is the smell of survival, the scent of blood, go get it child.”
He ran forward and took the first person who walked by and drug him into the shadows. His fangs ran out at the smell of the fear, the sound of him begging for his life, his mortal life.
He smiled cruelly and struck, sinking his fangs into the neck, not caring that he ripped the skin nor that he quickly drained his victim. He dropped the former human and walked away without a backward look not caring that he was now a monster, a thing of legends and old wives tales.
He could finally let the beast out to play.
The beast had a name and it was death. Death had had his way much too much of late, because of the war, but he had had to put the beast back in its gilded cage when he got home.
Home to his lovely wife, son and two daughters. That was life but had he really wanted it? Had he just been bending to social moores at the time? Yes, he had been doing as had been expected of him, marrying and planting his seed so his wife could bare him children.
He hadn’t really wanted it, not really. He had wanted to let the beast, death, lead the way but he hadn’t. Something had stopped him. What was it? Oh, yes, a conscience! He had felt guilt when he killed as a human, only in small measure but it had been there, the guilt.
He felt none of that now. Now he only felt what the beast felt, what death felt, pleasure in inflicting pain, in causing death, in bringing death to his victims.
It felt good to let the beast reign once again.