#hunter!teddy

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Here is the final part of "Winning the Witch", and I hope it suits everyone's liking. It's sort of short, but sweet!

Attempt five, painting a picture!

Enjoy!

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Valentine’s Day was supposed to be a happy day, right?

So then why was Billy crying?

Well, he was always crying, but this was different. He was crying over something he’d done, something he’d done on accident. He hadn’t meant to do it, but it’d happened all the same.

When Teddy found him, he was in an apartment in the Upper East Side. Hunched over a picture frame, he kept staring down at the little five-by-seven image in the cracked glass. A single beam on sunlight slipped through the window and reflected off the pane so Teddy wasn’t able to see the picture.

“Billy?” he called, stepping into the room.

The apartment was in shambles, showing signs of carnage and a struggle. He wondered vaguely if the family that once lived here had been murdered in their home or if they’d fled.

Billy, if he’d heard Teddy in the first place, didn’t say anything. Too focused on the picture in his hand, he lifted his fingers—long and tipped with claws are strong as iron—and traced them along the face of a figure in the picture. His eyes followed the image as he ran his finger down it.

Teddy walked into the room slowly. He kept his eyes only on Billy, still in his own little world.

Then Billy’s claws severed the picture in two—an accident, Teddy was more than sure.

The two halves of the frame fell to the floor, and the picture followed seconds later, ripped in a perfect slice down the center. Glass clinked on the part of the ground where carpet once covered. Billy’s claws hovered in the air, stunned by their sudden action. Then they lowered to the picture and touched the damage they’d made.

Teddy watched on in silence. He didn’t know what to say…

Billy was on the ground one second, then up on his feet the next. His head down, he marched right by Teddy and out of the ruined building; Teddy heard the sniffling, however, when Billy rushed by him.

As soon as he was alone, he took in the surrounding room. It was a bit on the small side, but cozy enough for a small family of five. Red curtains fluttered haphazardly on the shattered windows. Slashes tore into the leather of the couch. Lamps had been knocked onto the floor and trampled on.

Teddy made his way over to the picture and knelt down to get a good look at it.

Picking up the pieces of the torn image and setting them together, he saw it was a picture of a small family. A man and a woman with short brown hair stood smiling behind three boys. Two of them had similar faces and dark hair, and in between them with a small grin was a boy who looked like…

“Billy,” Teddy murmured.

The boy in the picture was Billy, as a human. Before the Infection. As a live being. A mortal. Before the Infection turned him into a Witch who had no memories of who he’d been.

And Billy probably knew this. And maybe that was why he was so upset about ruining the one thing that might help him remember who he was.

Teddy pursed his lips and zippered his hoodie tighter. There was a chill in the air.

He knew what he was going to do.

But he had to start looking around.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Come with me.” Teddy kicked up small bits of rock as he came to a screeching halt in front of him.

“Where?” Billy sniffled.

He wasn’t really in the mood for company now. Sure, Teddy gave him that beautiful titanium flower, but that didn’t mean anything, right? It was just a simple gesture—a nice one, but simple none the less.

Teddy grabbed his wrist and jerked him to his feet. “Just come with me,” he said.

“Let go!” Billy jerked his arm back, but Teddy’s grip was strong. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Where are you taking me?”

Teddy grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?!”

“Just trust me.”

He didn’t say anything else as he pulled Billy along. The Witches they passed looked on with ill-concealed curiosity. Hunters didn’t usually bother with their kind, and this was something new entirely. Billy put on his most annoyed face and stomped close behind Teddy, whose grip on his wrist still hadn’t released.

They walked for a long time, through the vacant streets of New York City.

The brainless Commons were running in circles, but they backed off whenever they spotted Billy. He snarled at them to keep them at bay; it was bad enough he’d been kidnapped by the Hunter. He didn’t have the patience to deal with Commons today.

Eventually, Teddy dragged him into an alley and placed him at the entrance. “Stay,” he ordered, as if Billy were a pet. Then he ran into the alley.

Billy snorted. If he were to run now, Teddy couldn’t stop him. So why didn’t he?

Teddy returned half a second later, looking pleased. “Hey. You didn’t run away.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Billy snapped. “You told me to stay. Now what is this all about?”

Teddy took his wrist and yanked him into the alley. “Here.” Then he put his hands on Billy’s thin shoulders and turned him toward one of the walls. “What do you think?”

Billy gaped.

It was absolutely amazing. The wall was covered in paint---vibrant, stunning colors. Red and blues and pinks and yellows and purples and greens or all shades. And all of the colors blended into a huge reproduction of a familiar picture…and now that he looks at the other two walls of the alley, he sees that there are many familiar pictures.

There’s the woman and the man with the brown hair, the two kids with the same face…the picture his claws tore through and ruined in that apartment. The picture that looked like him—that was him—stared back with a smile in the center.

The other pictures weren’t as large, but were just as beautiful. There was a beautiful woman in red, and that annoying Jockey. He looked as if he were alive. And there were so many others…too many to see all at once.

“It’s amazing…” Billy whispered.

He was speaking more to himself, but Teddy answered. “They’re all of your family…before the Infection.”

Billy looked at him. “Teddy, did…did you do all this?”

“Of course I did. Took me a while to find all that paint.” He grinned; it was meant to be a joke, not a reprimand. “And don’t worry---these walls are solid concrete, and the paint’s permanent. Even your claws can’t scratch through that.”

“I…I…” Billy didn’t know what else to say, so he threw his arms—with his claws at a safe level—around Teddy’s throat. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I don’t know what else to say except thank you! This is the most amazing…no one’s ever…at least I don’t think they…” He realized he was rambling and settled for just smiling. “I don’t know how to thank you enough…”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Teddy said it, but he sounded happy to be thanked.

Billy exhaled and drew back. “You…didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know,” Teddy answered, grinning like an idiot. “But I wanted to.”

The Witch stared at him for a few moments, trying to figure him out; it was easier said than done.

Witches and Hunters never interacted. It just wasn’t right. Witches were solitary creatures, and Hunters…Hunters were so loud and just so annoying. And yet Billy could find nothing annoying about Teddy, no matter how hard he thought. Teddy’d been nothing but kind to him and very generous, going out of his way to make Billy feel as if he were special.

“I don’t know why you’re interested in me,” Billy admitted, narrowing his eyes at Teddy, “but I guess there’s no helping it. If you want to try it…we can.”

Teddy obviously wasn’t expecting that answer. He perked up, his face lit up a darker shade of gray—or maybe it was the shadow of his hood?—and he whispered, “Do you really mean…?”

“I do,” Billy said, then he smiled. “After all, if it doesn’t work out, I can always kill you.”

The Hunter laughed nervously, not really sure if it was a joke or not. It was cut off when a pair of cool lips smothered his own for a brief, heart-stopping (no pun intended) moment. And then Billy stepped back and kept grinning at him. Teddy felt his face light up so bright he thought it might’ve turned back to the pink it did when he was alive so long ago. “Uh…”

“Oh? I’m sorry. That was a mistake…wasn’t it?” The Witch chewed on his lip until it was spotted with black beads of blood. “Sorry. I don’t know much about couple stuff, and I just thought that—mmph!”

Teddy snatched him up halfway through his sentence and pressed his lips to Billy’s. This kiss was considerably longer, and since neither of them needed to breathe, it never had to. But they separated after a few moments and stared into each other’s eyes—glowing orange into brilliant azure blue. Both of them were smiling, just a bit goofily, and Teddy said, “No idea how long I wanted to do that.”

Billy laughed, and Teddy was convinced that there was no sound in the world more perfect.

Billy Kaplan—the boy Witch, the one Teddy had been following for the past two weeks, trying and failing to impress except for when he gave him a titanium flower—liked him too, and he’d never been happier in his Infected life.

He grabbed his Witch and kissed him again. It wasn’t their first, and it was far from their last.

Hello my faithful readers! Here is Teddy's fourth attempt to try and win Billy over, as Tommy had ruined two of them!

Attempt four: roses.

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And here is attempt number three, Teddy's third attempt at winning Billy over!

Attempt three: music!

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Teddy found Billy half a week later at the City Hall Fountain. He was kneeling in front of the glistening water, cupping some of the liquid in the palms of his hands and letting it slide through his claws. As he let the droplets join their brothers in the pool, Teddy slipped behind the fountain.

He swallowed uncertainly. Back when he was alive he was known for being somewhat of a good singer, but he wasn’t so sure if that talent had carried over with his Infection. He imagined it would, since his voice sounded exactly the same. But he’d never tried it, because he had nothing to sing about.

As he approached the Witch boy, his foot crunched down on a stray piece of gravel.

The snap echoed like a gunshot. Billy tensed and glanced over at the Hunter with wide orange eyes.

Teddy froze.

The two stared at each other for a moment. But instead of getting startled and mauling him, Billy just kept staring at him in curious silence. Those alluring glowing eyes searched every part of him, in his soul and out, reading everything in his eyes. Teddy knew that he’d find nothing but honesty there.

Clearing his throat and swallowing whatever fears he had, Teddy let his mouth open and form the words to the only song he could think of at the time: The Beatles’ “P.S. I Love You”.

As I write this letter, Send my love to you, Remember that I'll always, Be in love with you. Treasure these few words 'til we're together, Keep all my love forever, P.S., I love you. You, you, you.

He was surprised by how naturally the words flowed. His mom had listened to it all the time when he was younger, after his dad died, and it brought back memories of his childhood.

He grinned a little to himself when he saw Billy staring at him in stunned surprise. He looked subdued by the song, entranced by the sound coming from Teddy’s throat. He looked…happy, in a way. It was worth the embarrassment Teddy felt at first. He just smiled and continued to sing.

As he paused to take a breath, another loud voice rang down from the top of a low building, clear in the night air.

Holding hands Skipping like a stone Burn the witch Burn to ash & bone.

Teddy yelped in terror at the horrible sound of the song. He knew Tommy’s voice well enough to recognize that he was the one on the top of the roof—of course, because who else would be this big of an asshole?

Billy stared in obvious disgust, growling low and searching with his eyes for the source of the awful singing.

Then Tommy just continued to shout, over and over: Burn the witch, burn the witch, burn the witch, burn the witch!

“SHUT UP!” Teddy bellowed.

Tommy’s bellowing laughter wafted down from the roof. Teddy went to apologize to Billy, but was stunned to find that the Witch was gone.

On the roof, Tommy was twirling in a circle and singing “Burn the Witch” by the Queens of the Stone Age, only repeating the chorus as often as he could. Since he didn’t have to breathe, he got through it at least nineteen times in twenty seconds.

He stepped back and struck something hard with his elbow.

Something hard and…snarling?

He turned slowly and found himself nose-to-nose with Billy. The glow of his orange eyes radiated in the night, mirroring his hatred. His teeth were ground, lips drawn back to show both rows. The canines gleamed menacingly. His shoulders rose and fell in sharp gasps as he drew in breath after breath through his clenched teeth. The low growl echoed through Tommy’s bones, rattling his body like an earthquake.

“Um…” He laughed nervously and raised his palms in surrender. “I…I didn’t mean it?”

With a loud shriek, Billy threw himself at Tommy. The Jockey turned to run but felt the Witch slam against him and force him down onto the ground.

Teddy, still on the ground, shook his head as he heard the familiar shrieks of the Jockey as claws ripped into his back.

Part Two! Teddy's second attempt at winning over stubborn little Witch!Billy. This is one of the more sentimental, sort of sad ones.

Attempt two: Starting a Conversation!

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Teddy exhaled through his nose as he marched down the city streets late at night. An involuntary action, he knew. The Undead didn’t have to breathe. He remembered a particularly terrible time, just after he’d been Infected, when he tried to breathe in deep. His lungs weren’t ready for it and he started choking. Xavin used her claws to tear his chest open and empty the trapped air before stitching him back up; it hurt, but it felt better. The wound had long since healed and there was no scar. But whenever he tried to breathe even a little, he felt the claws ripping through him to save his life. It made him cringe.

Speaking of scars…the wound on his cheek from three days ago had healed over, leaving only the lingering feel of blade-like fingernails in his flesh.

Teddy unconsciously reached his hand up and brushed the pads of his own fingers over his cheek. His skin was smooth and free of any rotting patches. Being a Special Infected made him different than the Commons who were constantly falling apart. He guessed he should be thankful, but…was it better not to rot, not to breathe, not to wear on his body until all he could do was lay on the ground immobile and watch the stars? Was it better to continue in the world knowing that he walked the line between living and deceased? Was it right to still be here even though his heart had stopped beating months ago? Did he even still want to be here, hunting Survivors and remembering all he’d once had?

As he passed the window of a hobby shop, he looked at his own face reflected back at him.

His human life was a vague memory, flashes of a life that felt like it’d been lived thousands of years ago instead of only a few months. In his mind he saw a youthful teenager with flawless peach skin and a pair of eyes as blue as the sea. Silver piercings decorated both of his ears, shimmering in the sunlight. He was smiling all the time, always so happy, living in an apartment with just his mother whom he loved more than anything in the world, and he was content. He loved the life he had. In the reflection he saw a teenager with pale gray skin, faded blue eyes like the sky before a storm, and a thin line where his mouth was. Piercings still adorned his ears, but they looked dull and pointless in the shade of the hood he had drawn up over his face. He tried to hide from the world—isn’t that why every Hunter wore a hood in the first place? To hide what they’d become?

Something else caught his eye in the reflection. He paused.

There he was—the Witch. He was sitting across the street in front of the giant City Hall fountain, watching the water trickle down. It was stained in red from countless corpses that’d been cleared away by starving Commons late at night.

Teddy watched in silent amazement as the Witch brushed his hair out of his eyes with the heel of his palm, keeping his claws as far out of his way as he could. The light of the full moon illuminated the pale color of his skin and made him glow like a pearl. His raven locks fell around his cheekbones and looked as beautiful as obsidian. Even his orange eyes seemed to light up to the point where they seemed like chips of amber. The blackness of his tattered shirt made the white of his skin stand out like a beacon.

And then Teddy noticed something else that made his unbeating heart clench up tight in awe.

He wasn’t crying.

Teddy slowly moved forward. He couldn’t see anything other than the Witch across the street—couldn’t see anything other than Billy, the one he yearned for, the one who’d sliced him across the cheek when Tommy ruined his first attempt at trying to make friends.

He silently took a seat next to the boy on the base of the giant City Hall Fountain. He tensed a bit when he didn’t turn and snarl right off, sensing that he’d get more than just a bit banged up if Billy turned, saw him, and got startled.

He jumped when he heard a soft voice say, “Back again, I see.”

The voice was tired and a bit raspy at first. Deep in a sense, but not too much so. Perfect for a boy of the Witch’s build and age. It took Teddy a moment to realize that Billy had been the one to speak, but when he looked up, he saw the Witch looking at him with exhausted orange eyes, awaiting a reaction of some kind.

Feeling a little giddy that he was speaking to him, Teddy said, “Y-yes, uh, yeah, I…ohh…Well, I…”

Billy’s throat tightened and he made a sound. It was a laugh. “Have you always been this articulate?”

“No.” Teddy felt his face burn. “Um, I—uh, I mean…I—I was just passing by and…I saw you here and I guess, uh, I guess I thought I would come by and see what you were up to.”

“Mm. Did that Jockey put you up to this?”

Teddy’s face burned worse. He wondered if his skin looked different and was silently thankful for the shadows the hood cast. “Tommy? I promise he has nothing to do with this. He’s a jerk.”

Billy didn’t say anything for a second, then answered, “He is, isn’t he? Kinda wish I’d hit him harder. Thought I killed him.”

“Well, I thought you did to, but you didn’t.”

“Damn.”

Teddy laughed out loud. The Witch’s lips drew back in a thin smile, so faint it almost vanished in the glow of the moonlight. They stayed silent for a few minutes, just listening to the trickle of the water from behind them. Then Billy asked, softly, “Why did you come here?”

“I always came here,” Teddy answered, “when I was…alive. Before the Infection. My mom and I used to come here and watch the stars at night.” He paused for a minute. “Huh. I’ve never told anyone about that before.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah…her name was Sarah.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

Teddy looked up at him. Billy’s eyes were filled with honest curiosity, but his face was sad.

He said, “All right.”

And then Teddy told Billy everything about his mother. Where she was born, who her parents were, where she’d lived, how she met his father, why she came to New York, the day he was born, and every little thing they’d done together. Going on camping trips, staying up to watch the clocks change on New Years, going Christmas shopping for each other even though they knew it was pointless because they knew each other’s gifts. He even told Billy every stupid little joke he and his mom had. It made him happy, reliving the memories of his life before the Infections. He didn’t realize he was smiling until he was done.

Billy was smiling too, but it looked strangely pained. “Your mom…she sounds like a nice woman.”

“She was.” Teddy frowned.

“Was? What happened to her?”

He exhaled through his nose. “When I was…Infected, Mom and I were on our way home. I use to go to her work and walk home with her. She got attacked by a Hunter and I got Infected. When I learned what I was, what was happening, I went after that Hunter. I killed him soon after.”

“I’m sorry. You know, about your…mom.”

“It’s all right,” Teddy said quietly, but was it really?

“…What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

Billy looked a little embarrassed. “Your name…what is it?”

“Oh.” Teddy felt his face burn again. “Um…my name? Oh yeah, I’m Teddy.”

He and Billy were silent again. The wind rustled the trees around them and disrupted the water trickling in the fountain. And then Billy whispered, “What is your obsession with me?”

Teddy blinked. “Huh?”

“When you saw me the first time…and then the other time. Why did you want to talk to me? I’m not at all interesting.” His voice was so quiet, he sounded almost as if he were going to cry again.

“I…I don’t really know,” Teddy admitted. Why was he so interested in this Witch? “I…” He guessed that it had something to do with the way he made him feel as if he were alive again. It probably had something to do with the way he felt whenever he saw Billy. He sensed there was something about the Witch that…that was just so different and so perfect. “I guess…I guess I just wanted to get to know you…I…I don’t know why else, but…I think I sort of…like you.”

Billy refused to look up at him. He sounded confused as he asked in a quiet voice, “Like me? What is there to like about me? I’m hideous; a monster. Look at these.” He raised his hand and showed off the tips of his claws. “I’m a killer. And the worst part about it? I don’t have a memory.”

Teddy looked at him strangely. “Huh?”

“Karolina told me you went to talk to her—don’t pretend. You know I can’t remember anything about my old life. Who I was or where I was from or what I was like before the Infection or why I became a Witch instead of something a boy is usually supposed to be. I don’t know any of it. So I can’t understand why you’d want to be friends with a beast who can’t even remember anything other than his name. And I really don’t get what you see in me.”

He stood before Teddy continued. “The reason I cry,” he said, “is because I don’t remember anything about my old life. Every Special Infected does but me. So I guess it confuses me as to why you’re so enamored with me. I’m disgusting. I’m hideous.”

“No you aren’t,” Teddy snapped.

“Yes, I am. I’m a monster.” Then he closed his eyes and said, “So if you some day manage to win me over and be friends or whatever it is you have planned, you’ll have to be my new memory.” He choked on a sob as he sobbed, “Because I don’t have one.”

Teddy tried to get up and say something, anything at all to reassure him that it was all going to be okay, but Billy was already wandering away. He had his claws covering face again, and he was sobbing. Loud keening wails that sliced through Teddy’s soul like blades. Then he went around the corner of a tall building and disappeared, leaving Teddy in stunned silence at the City Hall Fountain, feeling guilty and sad for the Witch, but determined to do whatever he could to one day make him happy.

Greetings readers, rebloggers, likers, and generally passing tumblr fans. My name is animehime20, but my friends know me as Hime, but some have called me Miss Hime. I would like to extend my thanks to all of you who have stuck by me through good times and bad as I've written many things here on tumblr. You all are the ones who make me proud to continue writing!

Here is the story we've all been waiting for: Hunter!Teddy's five attempts at winning Witch!Billy's unbeating heart!

This is the sequel to the short story "The Witch in the Alley", divided into two parts which have both been posted!

Here is Teddy's first attempt at winning Billy over: Flattery!

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Mindless Common Infected stumbled back and forth in exaggerated patterns, the echoes of their many footsteps bouncing off the tops of tall buildings like claps of thunder. It wasn’t an uncommon sight or sound, and the Special Infected—who were not mindless in the least—were so used to it by now that it felt unnatural when they couldn’t hear it.

Among these thundering booms were various snarls and hisses, a few scattered sets of sobs and gulps here and there; each unique to a specific Infected.

Various parts of the city were famous for specific noises. The closer one drew to Central Park, the louder the sobs grew. Central Park had come to be known, to the Survivors, as the Witch Park—the avoided it as best they could. Times Square was a famous stalking ground for the Hunters—another place to avoid. Harlem was infamous for its large concentration of Smokers and Boomers, and the Upper West Side was feared for its massive Jockey population. The Spitters and the Tanks and the Chargers tended to hang back closer to Brooklyn and New Jersey. Something about the smells of central New York kept them at bay—not that the Special Infected seemed to mind.

However, just because these areas were famous for their population of certain Special Infecteds, that didn’t mean they didn’t wander. One could easily find Witches in Brooklyn or skulking in the basements of Times Squares’ many shops. Hunters could meander as far north as East Harlem and beyond. And Smokers were often found lounging in Soho.

Teddy himself never enjoyed straying too far from Midtown. He liked it in Times Square—he’d grown up there when he was alive, and the nearly vacant streets offered comfort in the cold nights as he stalked the rooftops.

Once he’d strayed, even though Xavin had warned him against it, to the Lower East Side. He’d run into a small group of Survivors there, and thankfully Xavin had followed him or else who knows how it would’ve turned out. Ever since then, Teddy did whatever he could to keep from straying from Midtown and Times Square.

But recently he’d found himself enamored—almost dangerously so—with a certain little Witch, another Special Infected.

This Witch was unlike any he’d ever seen. First off, the Witch was a teenage boy, like Teddy himself was—if he could still call himself a boy when he wasn’t even human. Unlike the slews of blond Witches who wandered the streets late at night, this Witch had hair as dark as a crow’s plumage. His eyes were the same shimmering amber common among all Witches; he never went long without sobbing, either. The Witch’s clothes were tattered around the sleeves and the hem of the pants—he wore a simple black shirt and faded jeans. If not for the horrifyingly long claws jutting from where his fingers would normally be, the Survivors may mistake him for one of their own. Lord knows many of the Special Infected already had, and they were now in bloody piles all around New York. The Witch liked to wander when he wasn’t busy crying his eyes out.

Yes, Teddy couldn’t deny it any longer. There was something about this Witch that made him special. And it didn’t have to do solely with the fact that he was a boy.

He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but it had.

Teddy Altman, who was once human and was now a Hunter known all around New York and feared by the Survivors, had fallen for the boy Witch, whom his friend Tommy—an obnoxious Jockey with a scrawny build and white hair—identified as his brother.

Today found Teddy hiding behind a dumpster, peeking out into the streets and watching as the Witch of his dreams staggered by a few meters away, covering his face with his claws. He was crying again; it made Teddy feel terrible, knowing that the boy he fancied was always so miserable. He wanted to do whatever he could to correct it, to make him feel special. He wanted to see him smile, even if only once in his undead life.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Ted?”

He turned. Eli was leaning against the wall, green smoke billowing in a translucent cloud around his shoulders. He balled up his fist and coughed, an unconscious reflex.

“It’s fine,” Teddy reassured, grinning. “Tommy’s told me about him; I think he’s nice.”

“He’s not the same as he once was,” Eli reminded. “None of us are.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Before the Infection, Teddy wouldn’t ever have thought of hurting someone, let alone killing them. But Xavin made it very clear that Special Infected couldn’t survive without killing at some point. The Survivors would never understand that they were only acting on their instincts, on their convictions—they would never understand that no matter how different they were now, they’d once been human, and they retained most of their old morals and free will.

“I know, but Billy’s different, I think.” He didn’t want to explain to Eli why he thought that.

Eli didn’t pry. Instead he raised a thin eyebrow above the eye with a large boil keeping it closed. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have any experience with Witches; how do you know he’s even going to listen to you in the first place?”

“He will. If I don’t treat him like he’s different.”

Eli sighed and shook his head as Teddy turned and waltzed over to the sobbing Witch boy with black hair. “Good luck, Ted,” he said, his voice low. “You’re going to need it.”

The Witch—Billy—knelt in front of a puddle leftover from a vicious storm that hit New York City a few days ago. He stared at the face in the reflection, into the orange eyes, and choked on a sob. He put his claws on the surface and sent ripples across the water, ruining the image it sent back.

When the ripples settled and the image returned, he noticed—with a note of surprise—that there was someone behind him.

It was a Hunter.

He acted immediately on his survival instincts; he turned and let out a menacing growl.

The Hunter raised his hands in surrender, showing that he meant no harm. Billy stared at him. He recognized him, vaguely. The hood on a brown sweatshirt was drawn around his face; blond locks smeared in dirt and blood and grime clung to his face, half visible in the shade of hood. Brilliant azure eyes stared into his own—he couldn’t recall ever seeing that eye color on a Hunter, or any other Infected, before. Sort of fit…he guessed.

Why do I know him? Billy thought a moment. Oh yeah, he was that Hunter that’d been with the annoying Jockey he’d wounded.

Feeling that there was no eminent threat, he lowered his claws down to his sides and looked back at the puddle of water. If he pretended the Hunter wasn’t there, he’d go away, right? Yeah, that was it. Just keep looking at the puddle, Billy, and he’ll go away.

The Hunter cleared his throat. “Um…hi there.”

Billy blinked. The Hunter was talking to him? He struggled to keep his focus on the puddle, on the orange eyes reflected back at him. He tried making a few new faces—wrinkling his nose, opening his mouth to flash teeth, puffing out his cheeks—to watch how the face in the makeshift mirror contorted.

“What are you doing?” The Hunter crouched down so he was on the haunches of his legs, hovering an inch above Billy’s shoulder. He put his shoulders in a tense motion to warn the Hunter to back off; it seemed that he took the message. He stepped back just enough to give Billy some more space but not so far that he felt that he was too far behind him.

“You really did a number on Tommy earlier,” the Hunter said, grinning a bit.

Billy raised his eyebrows. What was this Hunter doing? Why was he talking to him? He locked eyes with the Hunter’s reflection; he wasn’t going to look him in the eye for real. If he did…what would the Hunter do to him if he caught his eye?

“You really don’t have to be nervous, you know. I think you’re really cool.” The Hunter was at his side again, right above him. Billy could feel his breath down the back of his neck; it was cool and gentle like the wind, but even if he shivered his skin did nothing in response. He knew it was meant to do something…but what exactly?

“I don’t bite,” the Hunter remarked, then laughed like it was some great joke.

Billy stared at the Hunter’s reflection, unimpressed. Some part of him wanted to ask what the Hunter was doing here, but he thought he knew the answer already.

The Hunter was trying to communicate with him. He was trying to be friends.

“Your hair’s…uh…a really nice color. It looks good on you.” The Hunter looked down at the ground, his cheeks a slightly darker shade of gray.

Billy raised an eyebrow. The Hunter was complimenting him now? It felt…kind of nice, now that he thought about it. It’d been so long since someone’s said anything to him, and the first time in his new life—if he’d had a life before now—that someone’s given him such a nice compliment.

He smiled just a little.

However, before the Hunter could say anything else, a loud voice in an alley shouted, “Geez, Ted! Fucking kiss him already! This’s boring the crap out of me!”

It was the voice of that Jockey.

“Tommy!” There was another voice. Then a loud slap, followed by a yelp.

The Hunter looked as if someone shot him. His eyes were wide open in comical surprise. He looked back at Billy, pale white—or maybe that was his natural skin color.

Billy growled. So that was the Hunter’s plan? Lull him into a false sense of security and then try to win him like some prize, eh? And to think he was just starting to contemplate speaking to the Hunter the next time he asked a question.

The Hunter said, quickly, “Listen, I—”

He’d heard enough. Snarling a little warning, he swatted the Hunter across the cheek with his claws. It didn’t go deep enough to leave any permanent damage, but enough to leave a slice. The Hunter fell back with a sharp cry. Billy leapt to his feet and stormed away at full speed.

Stupid Hunters! I’ll never trust one of those again!

“H-hey, wait!” Teddy scrambled to his feet, but the Witch was already gone.

He kicked a pebble angrily out of his way as he stormed back to the alley where Tommy and Eli were waiting.

Tommy was laughing like a maniac. His cheek was heavily scratched from where Eli had struck him. His green eyes were shut tight with a heavy onslaught of tears. The tears and the laughter only increased as he looked up and saw the long scratch underneath Teddy’s eye, a “present” from Billy.

“I should’ve warned you,” he said, snickering. “Billy can be a bit fiery.”

Teddy shot him an annoyed glare. Tommy turned away and used the alley wall for support, shrieking with laughter. Teddy drew his lips back over his teeth and threw himself at the Jockey with an enraged howl. Tommy rolled with him, scratching and kicking at him. Jockey and Hunter screamed insults and threw punches.

Eli just rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. They’d stop when they got tired.

Here's the second part of "The Witch in the Alley", a short story from the Left 4 Dead/Young Avengers AU which I still don't have an official title for.

Here's Part One: http://animehime20.tumblr.com/post/17129902791/ya-l4d-the-witch-in-the-alley-part-1-2

Enjoy!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

They tried to avoid the Witch Park as often as possible. Witches were solitary creatures most of the time and wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who disturbed them. Hunters and Smokers and Jockeys, all kinds of Special Infecteds, knew to stay away from the Park. Witches were never very understanding.

“Just passing through,” Eli said to a Witch who‘d growled at them as they entered the Park.

The Witch snorted. “Fine. Do as you wish. It’s your funeral.” Her old voice didn’t match her youthful appearance—tight skin over bones as thin as pipes.

They moved on.

Central Park was littered with Witches. They sat under trees, on the grass, by the hills, in the trees, anywhere they could find. Around each Witch was a perimeter of space about ten feet by ten feet. No Common Infecteds—who wandered the Park aimlessly—stepped in those barriers. It was one giant mess of white and pale pink and blue and other faded colors. Blond heads and loud sobs, sharp claws and orange eyes.

The Witches glared at them as they passed by—some of them even growled when Tommy strayed too close. He’d learned from his little meeting with his brother to back off immediately.

“This place is huge,” he muttered, stuffing his clawed hands in his jean pockets. “How the hell are we going to find this Kassidy chick anyway?”

“Her name’s not Kassidy,” Teddy corrected sharply. “Her name is Karolina, and Xavin told me where to find her. She barely wanders, and if she does she always returns to the same spot.”

“No other Witch claims it?” Eli asked.

“They know better not to.”

“Yikes.”

“Just let me talk.” Teddy’s skin prickled at the idea of letting Tommy talk to Karolina. He’d probably piss her off and get them all killed. He decided it was better to let someone else talk, and he was the one who knew Karolina best.

“Do you think it’s a curse?” Eli asked suddenly. “Being a Special, not a Common?”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. I think it’s some kind of honor. It means we were stronger than other people—that we were sort of immune to whatever this disease is. We got to keep our free will, more or less, so why would you think it was a curse?”

“It all depends on belief,” Teddy answered solemnly. “And whether you think being aware of the fact that you’re a monster is a bad thing or not.”

“Tch. Monsters. I’ll tell you who’re monsters—the Survivors!”

“Oh?” Eli raised his eyebrows.

“They know we were once exactly what they are—blind humans in a frightening world we don’t understand. They know we’re different than those brainless walking hunks of dead meant. Yet they still aim their guns at us, even when we don’t have hostile thoughts toward them. It makes me sick! If anything, they should be allying themselves with us and having us help them find a way out of here. We’re not monsters; we are not cursed! We‘re way more superior than they are.”

“Well, whatever your beliefs,” Teddy interrupted, “just don’t suggest to Karolina that you think she’s a monster.”

He’d come to a halt in front of a massive tree with no leaves at the opening of the Park. The trees parted to reveal a large statue off in the distance.

Teddy turned to regard his two companions. “According to Xavin, she is the best at gathering information of every single Special Infected in New York City. And if we’re polite she’ll tell us anything we want to know. There’s no point in insulting her—all it’ll do is piss her off, if we’re lucky! Tommy, if you can’t be nice, I’ll make you leave. Eli, I trust you can be nice.”

Eli snorted, but said nothing.

He marched out from the break in the trees and headed slowly to the statue.

Beside the statue of Balto, cross-legged in front of the base, sat a thin Witch. Her head was tipped forward, revealing the crown of her head. Her clothes were a worn old camisole, faded from days in the sunlight, and a pair of underwear. Her icy white skin swelled over the tight top, torn across the stomach to reveal the flat planes and small bellybutton. Long blonde hair fell to her shoulders like a filthy halo, bouncing as she rocked back and forth in time with her sobs. Long claws covered her face, and her entire arm looked as if it’d been dipped in a vat of blood.

“Don’t startle her,” Teddy said under his breath. Then he made his way slowly over to the sobbing Witch. “Uh…Karolina?”

Her shoulders tensed sharply, her sobs quieted, and she hissed sharply through her hands, “Who goes there?”

“My name is Teddy Altman. I am a Hunter. I’m a friend of Xavin’s.”

“Xavin?” The Witch lowered her hands and stared up at him. Her eyes were like all other Witchs’—a luminous orange that darkened at the irises and stained the sclera of each eye. “She told me about you a while ago. What do you want?” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She waved her claws to Eli and Tommy and said, “And who are they?”

“These are my companions. The Smoker’s name is Eli, and the Jockey—”

“Tommy.” The Jockey stepped forward with a cocky grin. “Nice to meet you, gorgeous.”

Karolina’s eyes flashed dangerously bright. “Your friend know very little about Witches, doesn’t he, Teddy? You may want to teach him before he gets himself killed.”

Tommy snorted. “Been there, done that.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s actually what we came here to talk to you about.” Teddy shot a warning glare at Tommy and then returned his attention to Karolina in front of him. “We had a few questions regarding a Witch, and we thought you might be able to help.”

“I may be able to,” Karolina answered. “If the price is right.”

“Geez, there’s a price?” Tommy complained. “We’re Infected, lady! I don’t have any money! And besides, what would you do with it in the first place? You’re Infected, too!”

Teddy shook his head, and Karolina just smiled. “You’d be surprised by how desired cash is in the Boomer community,” she said. “They enjoy the texture. They trade it for sugar—which, as you know, is a very popular product with Witches.”

“Well,” Tommy snorted, “then I should’ve kept my earnings from the prison, shouldn’t I?”

Eli turned to him curiously. “What earnings?”

“A chick named Lisa Molinari and I gambled a lot in juvie. I beat her all the time, and I saved up about three hundred and fifty bucks. Lost it during the riot when the Infecteds attacked the prison, though.”

“Damn,” Eli said.

Teddy threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tommy, forget the damn money and your gambling for a second! Karolina, we don’t have any money to pay you with.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “It was meant as a joke, anyway, but if seems your Jockey can’t understand sarcasm.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, Karolina, can you tell us anything about a Witch named Billy?”

Karolina made a solemn face. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, Teddy. There are sixteen Billies in this park alone, and I don’t know which one you are seeking.”

“I think you’ll know this one,” Teddy said. “It’s a male Witch.”

“Ah.” Her eyes shone with understanding. “That Billy. I thought you were speaking of a girl named Billie. No, I know him. He’s caused a big stir among the Witches, I’ll tell you that. None of them understand why he’s not a girl. I guess there must be something about him that entitled him to become a Witch when the Infection took him. What it is, however, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What do you know about him?” Eli stepped in.

“No more than he does,” Karolina answered. She closed her eyes and thought a moment. “All I know is that his name is Billy Kaplan, he is a boy instead of a girl which is bizarre and abnormal for a Witch, and he wanders into the city at night and returns by day. That’s all I know. That’s all he knows.”

Eli looked back and saw Tommy’s gray face turn a light pale. “What do you mean that’s all he knows?”

Karolina fluttered her long claws in a bored fashion. “He doesn’t know anything about who he was before the Infection. He lost his memory of his human life. All he remembers is a name and a few brief flashes of some horrid kid. Nothing more, nothing less.” She pursed her thin gray lips and exhaled through them—an unnecessary action, as the Infecteds never needed to breathe. “It’s actually…kind of sad. Poor thing can’t remember a thing. I think that’s why he cries. Every Witch has their own reasons, y’know?”

The three Special Infecteds were silent for a while. They didn’t say anything as Karolina deemed the conversation over. She rose to her feet, wobbled a little, then meandered down the pathway with her hands covering her face to block out the fading sunlight. She said nothing to them as they called after her, and then rounding the trees, she was gone.

“Well that was helpful,” Tommy said under his breath.

“Yeah,” Eli said.

“Well…what should we do now?”

“I don’t know about you two,” Teddy said, “but I’m going to find him.”

Eli glanced at the Hunter out the corner of his eye. “Ted…why? What could you possibly hope to accomplish?”

“I don’t know, Eli. I just feel like…like I can be friends with him. If he had someone to talk to…maybe he’d be…I don’t know, happier. It’s worth a shot.” Teddy didn’t know why, but he felt something about the Witch boy he’d only just met. He wanted to be friends with him…or now that he thought about it…something more? He didn’t know and he didn’t care.

Eli exhaled through his nose. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You’re looking to hit on my brother, Altman?”

“Are you going to try and stop me, Tommy?” Teddy challenged.

Tommy snorted. “Nope. Billy’s strong enough to stop you himself. I’d know, trust me.” He brushed his fingers self-consciously over the spot where his twin brother’d torn him open and picked at his organs two hours ago.

Teddy laughed, Eli rolled his eyes, and the sun finally set, casting the city of New York in shadow.

To Be Continued

Greetings, readers and rebloggers!

This is a scene from my YA/L4D AU. In this scene, Teddy the Hunter, Eli the Smoker, and Tommy the Jockey stumble across Billy the Witch for the first time ever!

I hope everyone enjoys this, because I've been really impressed with all the likes and comments I've received!

Thank you all!

Enjoy!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Faint sounds of crumbling gravel echoed through the walls of an abandoned warehouse located on the outskirts of New York City. The gravel was old and worn, trampled and shattered beneath the feet of a thousand Infecteds. The city that was once known everywhere was in ruins—windows were blown out, damaged and broken, and tall skyscrapers scratched the blackened night sky. Smog covered the light of the full moon.

Under the moonlight, against the wall of a brick building, stood three tall Special Infecteds. Given names by the Survivors—those who had a sort of immunity to the Infection—they could easily be identified as a Hunter, a Smoker, and a Jockey.

The Hunter exhaled through his nose. Two streams of smoke wafted into the air. “So…any Survivors nearby?” His face was hidden in the shadows of his brown hood.

“You tell me, Ted,” the Smoker answered quickly. His skin was brown and tinted with gray, one side of his body molded with thick boils. A long green tongue slipped out of his mouth, laced around his arm to keep it from dragging on the ground. He wore the tattered remains of a fancy black tuxedo. “You’re the one with the super sense of smell.”

The Hunter, Teddy, shrugged. “True enough.”

“Geez, this is pointless!” the third member of the group snapped. He was a Jockey with a lithe form. Stringy locks of white hair—turned a light gray due to several months without a decent wash—clung to his forehead and down the back of his neck. His eyes were green, sharp and penetrating. His bony frame was encased in a ruined white shirt and a pair of green shorts and a single black combat boot. “Let’s just go hunt those fuckers down! It can’t be that difficult. Teddy, use your nose and sniff them out! Eli can grab them when they’re not looking; I say we start with that hot black-haired chick—what was her name? I think it was Kate…? Yeah, that’s it. Man, she’s hot.”

The Smoker, Eli, rolled his coppery-red eyes. “Tommy, you’d have to be insane to think she’d ever fall for you. You’re Infected!”

“But I have free will,” Tommy answered with a grin. “Which is more than I can say for that throng of boys she’s hanging out with. Both of ‘em are too interested in that blonde girl. Sure she‘s not dog, but she ain’t a beauty queen either.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eli snapped.

“Hey!”

Teddy rolled his eyes. He was use to this. He’d met up with Eli a few weeks ago, and Tommy had just tagged along about three and half days ago. He didn’t know them well—who they were before all this had happened. Before the Infection, before the Survivors, before the Apocalypse. And to be honest, he didn’t really care. They talked to him and hung out with him, and he guessed, as a Hunter, that was all he could ask for.

“That blonde one got the best of you yesterday, Eli,” Tommy snarked.

“Shut up,” Eli growled.

“Got ya right in the tongue, too!”

“I said shut UP!”

“You should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless! ‘Aagh, my poor tongue! It’s on fire! Aaagh!’ Ha ha!”

Snarling like a dog, Eli unraveled his tongue from his arm and threw it like a whip, snapping it against the exposed part of Tommy’s thigh. It made a loud SNAP when it connected with flesh. Tommy gave a loud yelp and hopped up and down in the air. “OW OW OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!”

Teddy bit his tongue against a loud guffaw.

“That was for being an asshole,” Eli said, wrapping his tongue back around his forearm.

Tommy glared. “Why you—”

“Hey, what was their leader’s name?” Teddy asked, trying to break up a fight before one started. They were hilarious sometimes, but then they got annoying. “Nat or Nathaniel or something like that? Nathan or…”

“Who cares?!” Tommy was still glaring at Eli. “You want a fight, it’s on now, mother fuck—”

The three Special Infecteds stopped. Somewhere down the alley was a sound they all recognized. It was a loud sob, choking and breaking off at the end.

“The fuck is that?” Tommy looked at Eli and Teddy, but they just shrugged their shoulders.

“Beats me,” Teddy said.

“Let’s go check it out.” Eli began his descent down into the alley after the sobs. Teddy and Tommy shared a glance, then followed the tall Smoker immediately.

They emerged at the mouth of the alley. Nothing out of the ordinary; a mesh of Common Infecteds rushed through the streets. Trash can after trans can lined the sides, overflowing with putrescent items only imaginable in nightmares. Water from rainfall on the brick walls looked sort of like blood in the darkness.

And then they saw the boy.

He was cowering at the back of the alley, purposely staying out of the streetlight. His legs, scratched and covered by a faded pair of jeans, were coiled to his chest. He kept his back to them, tuned away so all they could see of him was the back of his torso.

“It’s a kid,” Eli announced.

“We ain’t blind,” Tommy quipped.

“Shh!” Teddy glared at both of them.

The boy didn’t seem to notice their presence. He lay on his hands and knees in the darkness. Loud keening sobs came from his throat; it was heartbreaking, to say the least. He choked on thick globs of phlegm and spat onto the pavement now and again. His cries were loud enough to bounce off the closed space of the alley and back in the ears of the Special Infecteds watching him.

“Poor thing.” Teddy couldn’t explain why, but he felt bad for the poor kid. What’d happened to him that made him so upset?

Eli said sharply, “Don’t pity him too much, Ted. He’s just another Survivor. Probably pissed off a Boomer or something and it killed all his teammates.” That was a standard tactic—more common among Witches and Smokers more than any other Special Infected: chase a group of Survivors when provoked and kill all except one. Revenge, as the Survivors might call it. “Probably all he deserves,” Eli said in a soft voice.

The boy—as if in response to Eli’s sharp words—let out a sharp little shriek of a howl.

Tommy flinched. “Geez, he sounds like a fuckin’ Witch.” He raised his hand and flexed his claws. “If you feel so bad for him, Ted, let’s just kill him.”

Teddy and Eli exchanged mutual glances and determined that there was nothing else they could do. Better to end the poor kid’s suffering now before some brainless Common Infected did. They each took a step back and ushered Tommy forward. “Be quick about it,” Eli said, knowing that Tommy had a tendency to try and drag out the death of a Survivor if he could.

Grinning like a maniac, Tommy cracked his knuckles and sauntered towards his helpless victim.

“No need to cry, little boy,” he said. “This ain’t going to hurt one little bit.”

His laugh was cut off as he noticed the sobs slowly changing into labored growls. He glanced down, pausing with his claws ready in the air.

That growling, he thought. I…I know that sound…But it can’t be…

He staggered back, his boot crunching down on a stone with an echo like a gunshot.

The boy raised his head up to reveal a pair of bright orange eyes, the eyes of the Devil.

“Holy—” Tommy staggered back, stumbling on his own two feet. It was a fucking Witch?! But Witches were chicks! This kid was a boy no older than he was. Streaks stained his cheeks, the circles under his eyes red and raw. Filthy black bangs clung to his grimy face, gray as any other Special Infecteds, but not ruined or damaged by rot or wounds. In fact…he looked…almost familiar.

Tommy’s chest tightened in horrific realization. “Billy?!”

The Witch snarled again, brandishing long swords. No…they weren’t swords…they were claws! Each about a foot in length, thin, sharp, so deadly…red and black, black and red…bloody and dangerous…long on his fingers, ten in total…The same he’d seen on every Witch all over New York City. The Witch—Billy—screamed another unearthly growl and rose into a predatorily crouch.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Billy, it’s me!” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was difficult. “Tommy. Remember?! Bill—”

The Witch screamed, louder than before, and threw himself at Tommy with as much force as he could manage on his bent legs, powerful and strong as those of some great animal. He crashed all his frail weight into Tommy with enough strength to hurl him off his feet and onto the ground.

Eli and Teddy watched in equal states of amazement and horror as the Jockey was abruptly speared and slashed across the chest and stomach by violent lashings of red and black and gray claws.

Tommy flailed and writhed under the onslaught, raising his arms to shove the Witch back. “AAAH, BILLY!! BILLY GOD DAMMIT IT’S ME TOMMY, REMEMBER?! AAAAAAHH!” The claws dug into his chest and tore a line from his sternum to the waist of his tattered pants; he picked the wound like a starving bird. “AAAAAAGH OH GOD MY INTENSTINES!!”

Eli turned to Teddy. “Should we…help?”

Teddy raised his eyebrows in silent awe and said nothing.

“AAAAAAAH MY ORGANS!!”

As suddenly as the attack started, it ended. The Witch rose from his victim, snarled at Teddy and Eli, then hopped onto a nearly drain pipe and vanished in the darkness.

Teddy and Eli rushed over to their downed teammate to make sure he was still alive.

“Tommy, you okay?” Eli asked.

“D-do I…look okay…to you?” Tommy spat up a glob of blood. “O-oh God this hurts…How bad…is it…?” He tried to crane his neck to look at the damage.

Eli patted his hand comfortingly, strangely out of character. “It’s not so bad. Nothing we can’t fix. Ted, you got my thread? We’ll stitch ya up until you heal.”

Teddy fished into his hoodie pockets and withdrew a thin needle and a ball of string. He handed the items to Eli, who made quick work of stuffing Tommy’s entrails back in place and sewing the hole back up tight.

Newly healed, Tommy sat up and groaned. “Oh, that’s going to hurt for a few days.”

“You’re welcome,” Eli said.

Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Care to explain why you didn’t fight back?”

Tommy looked at the walls and the sky, anything except at his two comrades. “He’s my brother,” he said. “His name is Billy, and he’s my little brother. My twin, actually.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was killed during the Infection—that he was immune to it and became a…Survivor, or his body couldn’t accept the change and he died transforming into an Infected. I had no idea that he was a…a Witch. How is that even possible?”

“No idea.” Eli closed his eyes. “We should ask someone who might. I think Xavin’s girlfriend—what was her name again, Ted? Kerrie or Kiki or something like that? Korina? Anyway, she might know. We should pay her a visit.”

Tommy winced as he shifted. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Eli turned to look at Teddy. “What do you think, Ted?”

The Hunter was staring off in the direction the Witch had run off to in awe, his expression positively stupid. He grinned like an idiot as he turned back to his comrades and said, “What do I think? I think I’m in love.”

This is a short story I wrote—the first one, actually—for my Left 4 Dead/Young Avengers idea.

In this specific story, Teddy has been a Hunter for a while and is "stalking" Billy, who is a Witch, from a far. They have never met. Teddy keeps a distance to protect Billy, as he has a crush on him but is too embarrassed to ever try and get close enough to him to start a conversation.

This story is not connected to any of the other Left 4 Dead/Young Avengers stories; it stands by itself and is sort of a "What If...?" idea.

I hope everyone enjoys it as they have all my other stories! I dedicate it to all my loyal readers, rebloggers, and followers!

Title: Said I’d Protect You…Sorry I Failed

Author: animehime20

Fandom: Young Avengers/Left 4 Dead

Pairings: Hunter!Teddy/Witch!Billy

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Avengers or Left 4 Dead

Warning: Uh-uh. I am not giving any warnings this time. You’ll have to read and find out! :D

Summary: AU. He was beautiful to him, but he could never go near him. So he protected him from afar and made sure nothing hurt him. He was caught up in a fight and failed to protect him in the end. So he got revenge for him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

As the crescent moon rose into the air, stretching the black night far across the city, the boy crawled out of the shadows. His hair was so dark compared to his pale skin, black as the sky above him. His few clothes—a torn T-shirt and a ruined pair of jeans—were matted with mud. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he wobbled down the thin trail leading to Central Park.

No one approaches this helpless teenager for one reason: the red and black claws he possesses instead of fingers. This innocent boy could tear anyone apart with a single swipe. A single second of no-control, and he could be the most dangerous creature out there. But he rarely attacks, unless he is disturbed from his ritualistic sobbing.

Despite this, even if he is the most dangerous one out there, there is one who still sees him as something else: someone who sees him as utterly beautiful.

At the top of a run-down building, Teddy sat in his dark hood, training his hidden eyes on him. Watching him. Listening to him. Waiting for the perfect moment to jump down and make his presence known, to finally work up the courage to speak to the boy who has captured his unbeating heart.

Unlike those all around him, he found himself captivated by this boy. In the eyes of the others, he was just another monster that killed any and all who dared disturb him.

But in his eyes, he saw a beautiful teenage boy, possibly a junior or a sophomore at the very least. To others, the sounds of this creature’s sobs were meant only to lure unsuspecting Survivors to their graves, to lull them into a false sense of security so it could pull them in and gut them mercilessly. To Teddy, his mournful sobs were genuine—a plea for help, for companionship, to have someone come and stay at his side and make the monsters go away. The others are hesitant to believe that of him, especially after watching the way he loses his mind when he is startled by anyone or anything.

And Teddy would love to be that boy who answered his cries. But he knew he couldn’t. He was a monster unfit to sit beside the boy of his dreams—if Infected could even dream—and wipe away his tears, not fit to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Teddy was a killer, a Hunter.

So the best he could do was watch him from a far and protect him.

“Stalking the Witch again, Ted?” Eli walked across the roof slats over to Teddy’s side. He was Infected, too. A Smoker. Half of his tall, lean body was covered in bumps and dark boils; a long frog-like tongue hung from his mouth and wrapped like a rope around his forearm, to keep it from dragging on the ground and tripping him. Smoke emitted from his body in a hazy mist. He had a cigarette in his other hand, lit and half-burnt away.

“I am not stalking him, Eli,” replied Teddy with an off-hand snarl. “And I told you, and Tommy, that before.”

His hand rested on the ledge of the building, half in the gutter, ready to jump to his side at a moment’s notice.

Eli shrugged and coughed up a thin stream of smoke. “What else do you call slinking around on rooftops in the dark to watch one single boy over and over again?”

Teddy’s sharp azure eyes never left the boy below, who was now on his knees, crying his eyes out. “I’m not stalking him,” he said. “I’m just protecting him.”

“Protecting,” Eli mocked, rolling his eyes. “So, tell me. Isn’t it about time you pay the Witch a visit and, I don’t know, talk to him? This has been going on for three weeks, Ted. You can’t keep stalking—I’m so sorry, protecting—him like this. Isn’t it about time you let this kid know he has a guardian?”

Teddy took his gaze off the weeping Infected and glared at Eli. “Why does everyone call him a Witch? He’s not a Witch! He has a name, just like you and me and Tommy and all the others. His name is Billy Kaplan.”

“And just how did you find that out if you didn’t talk to him?”

“Tommy told me. Billy’s his brother.”

Eli’s eyebrows lifted up. “I didn’t know he had a brother. He’s never said anything about it before.”

“That’s because Billy doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t remember much about his human life.” He turned back to the Witch—Billy—as he finished speaking.

Eli shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Something pretty horrible must’ve happened to make him forget so much. Think that’s why he cries?”

Teddy shrugged, because he really didn’t have an answer.

Eli leaned against the ledge of the building, looking over at Central Park below. He trained his eyes on his hooded friend’s obsession. He wobbled about while he sobbed relentlessly into his red claws. Eli peered over at Teddy to see the Hunter’s head on his folded arms, a look of admiration in his eyes—watching the Witch, his witch, from afar.

BANG.

The gunshot rang through the dark streets.

Eli and Teddy turned to the sound, hearing more after. Lights flashed in the alley a few blocks over.

The Hunter raised his head and sniffed the air, snarling and baring his claws. “It’s those Survivors again.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

Eli nodded and began to hop over to the next building. Teddy stole a glance back at Billy once more. He was still walking away, crying into his claws. Hesitantly, Teddy turned away from him and ran after Eli.

When Teddy finally made it to the alley and landed on pavement, Eli stood atop the abandoned building directly above.

“Those Commons have no idea how to be sneaky,” he called down to Teddy with a disgusted grunt.

When the Commons were down to a minimum, Eli made his move. A quick screech, and he snapped his long tongue down at the black-haired girl of the group. She kicked and screamed, punching at his tongue to get free, but that didn’t stop Eli from dragging her up to the top of the building.

The leader of their group—that brown-haired kid named Nat or Nate or Nathaniel or something—shouted “KATE!” and shot at Eli.

The bullet broke through half of his tongue and dropped it to the ground along with Kate. Eli reeled back and coughed in agony, letting a snarl in the direction of the Survivors know that their attack hadn’t deterred him.

While they were distracted by Eli, Teddy crawled through the horde and snarled. He stalked his prey, the kid that shot his friend. He let a loud screech escape his throat as he leapt through the air, but the other boy—Jonas or something—caught on and swung the barrel of his gun at the Hunter. It worked. Teddy was smacked across the face by the metal object and sent flying into the wall. He collapsed to the ground and stayed silent, not wanting to be shot at while the Survivor guys finished off the Commons.

Once it was all over, they recovered and chattered together. The girl called Kate glanced around and said, “Hey…where’s Cassie?”

The three Survivors froze when they heard a noise. Teddy listened for it too.

Crying.

“GOD DAMN IT ALL..!” the leader named Nate or something yelled.

The three Survivors hurried off in search of their comrade, screaming her name loudly.

Teddy tensed and hurried to his feet. He leapt onto a building and ran to Central Park as fast as he could without a second thought. He was so busy with the attack that he hadn’t noticed the blond girl leave the group. He was so busy with the attack that he hadn’t noticed the sobs from Billy weren’t moving away anymore. His mind was racing as he passed the three Survivors shrieking “Cassie! Cassie!”

But none of that mattered to him now.

Because Billy wasn’t crying anymore. He was growling. He wasn’t sobbing. He was screaming hysterically.

He was startled.

Teddy stopped on the ledge where he always watched him from. He was not there, no longer in his line of sight. Billy had wandered into the park. The Hunter leaped off the roof and landed on the cobbled ground. It hurt his leg, but he ran anyway. He rushed as fast as he could toward his frantic screams and distressed shouts.

The Hunter landed on top of the Obelisk, looking for his weeping love frantically. Relief finally came as he looked over a few trees. He could see Billy—barely, but he knew he was there. His worries were reborn when he heard his frenzied shrieks. He was screaming at something.

He hopped off the Obelisk and ran in Billy’s direction, dodging bushes and thick trees. He was close enough to see the orange glow of his beloved’s eyes grow wide in fright but too far away to see what had distressed him.

And then Billy crumpled onto his stomach with a cry.

Teddy stopped. He was a mere three feet from the edge of the clearing, from being seen, from distracting the Survivor, from being able to protect him.

Billy’s body lay motionless as the blond-haired Survivor laughed in a nervous hysteria.

“I…I got him… I got him! I got the Witch!”

There was that disgusting word again. That horrible word that they kept calling him. That terrible nickname he did nothing to deserve. A cruel title he probably never wanted in the first place.

Witch.

Witch.

WITCH.

How dare she call him that…AFTER WHAT SHE DID…!

He howled, eyes tinted with crimson anger, and hurled himself out into the clearing.

Before the blond girl had time to react, to raise her gun and shoot him too, the Hunter pounced on her with a strangled bellow.

He started to tear into her chest with his claws, screaming incoherent shrieks of pain and sorrow, rage and hatred. He hated her for what she did to him. He HATED her! The blond girl screamed and flailed to get him off, but her friends were too far away to hear her cries. Teddy screamed and ripped into her, tearing through lungs and bones and muscle. He just couldn’t stop. The punches the girl delivered to his face and arms did little to stop him. When she went near his face, he bit three of her fingers off and spat them aside. He barely registered her screams of agony over his own.

Even after the Survivor was already dead, the Hunter continued to rip into her. He just couldn’t stop. His blood thirst rose as his very soul, if he had one, demanded a gruesome revenge.

He stopped abruptly after bitter tears blinded him, running down his pale cheeks. He got off the fresh corpse he’d created and staggered over to Billy.

His once weeping beloved’s limbs did not move as Teddy came near, nor did his chest rise. The blood that poured from the bullet wound in his head soaked into the emerald grass below him.

Teddy hesitated, hands hovering above his weeping boy’s body. Part of him wanted to seize him and embrace him tight, but the other part was too afraid to touch him. If he touched him, it would force him to accept the cold truth. 

Billy was dead.

For good this time.

The thought shocked him out of his stupor. He turned Billy over and laid him on his back. His glowing orange eyes stared at the sky, seeing everything but nothing. They were dry—no tears spilled down his face to stain him with sorrow. Teddy’s trembling fingers closed his eyes. It made him look like he was sleeping, if Teddy ignored the bullet hole in his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Billy.” His voice cracked as he began crying. He sat at his side and whispered, “It’s okay now. I’m here.” He reached down, placing his hand on Billy’s cheek. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

He stayed by his side, feeling it was the only way to be forgiven for his failure to protect.

He stayed and didn’t really care or pay attention when the Survivors approached. He didn’t care for their screams—especially the one named Nate or Nathaniel or something and the one named Jonas or something like that—when they saw the lifeless body of the blond girl they both seemed to adore. He didn’t listen when they fell at her side in hysterics. He didn’t pay attention when they turned to him and saw him sitting still beside his fallen love, crying his eyes out. His didn’t lift his head when they fired their guns, enraged and craving revenge as he had been minutes ago.

He collapsed on the ground next to the corpse of his Billy. He put his hand on top of Billy’s elongated red claws, the ones he seemed to hate so much, and gave them a gentle squeeze.

I am so sorry I couldn’t save you, Billy. Forgive me…?

For a moment, he thought he felt the claws twitch beneath his hand to answer his pleading touch. He really did feel the forgiveness that he wanted. He felt that he’d known Billy all his life, that Billy knew him too, and that they were happy together. He imagined the smile he never saw before, and it was beautiful. He imagined what he looked like as a human, what he looked like when he wasn’t crying, what it would be like if they’d gotten the chance to be together.

The red claws under his hand twitched and shifted their positions so it was on top of Teddy’s.

He barely had enough strength to lift his head enough to see Billy turn his head, slowly, and open his eyes. Dull orange peered into blue for the first time. The moment went on forever, with Teddy unable to make a sound.

Then Billy smiled and closed his eyes. 

And before the darkness claimed him for good this time, Teddy felt truly happy for the first time since the Infection.