Co-Author: SanctuaryLover

I do not own Sanctuary

John Druitt stalked through the streets of the London trying to force his heartbeat to calm as it beat against his chest with enough force to make his ears ring. Despair snapped at his heels for the hopelessness of his situation, he felt so sick with himself that he feared opening his mouth lest he vomit and Bartholomhew's words echoed around his head.

"...He wants you to kill someone John, another whore and he wants one of the other Five to see so they'll have no doubt of you guilt... And if you refuse he says Helen's as good as dead..."

"Lonely tonight, gentlemen?" Molly's voice drifted to his ears and he forced himself to repress a sigh, why couldn't there just have been no one out tonight?

"Still at it, Molly?" John asked her from the darkness, hoping she'd decide to go home before one of the Five showed up. He had never killed before and the second last thing he wanted was to do it now, the last thing of course being hearing of Helen's death.

"Oh...Mr. Druitt, you frightened me. No rest for the gifted, you know that," Molly greeted him nervously, probably fearful of finding Jack the Ripper but he was to play that horrible role tonight.

"Indeed I do," he agreed stepping forward out of the shadows, silently cursing that she hadn't run.

"You shouldn't be in the habit of jumping out at the ladies these days, what with all the troubles," Molly complained and he wanted so bad to warn her but he couldn't, it was either her or Helen.

"What was I thinking? Forgive me," John apologized with a much deeper meaning than he let show as he walked towards her and began to remove the concealed blade from the cane he'd been given.

"John! This ends here," Helen exclaimed and he hoped he succeeded in not wincing, why did it have to be her on watch tonight? He wondered if he had done it on purpose just to test him, it wouldn't surprise him.

"Helen, what a lovely surprise," he forced himself to say with a smile as he put the blade back in and walked over beside his soon-to-be victim, "Molly, I would like you to meet my fiancee. Or, should I say, former fiancee, Helen Magnus. Doctor Helen Magnus."

"Doctor? I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am. Well...I'll be on my way," Molly said nervously stumbling over the words, John wished she could have been a horrible person or at least someone he didn't know as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

"Stay. I insist," John told her trying to concentrate on looking at Helen, he was doing this for her, to save her life.

"John, let me help you before you make things worse," Helen offered and he had to smile inwardly at her, her kindness never ceased to amaze him and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and explain everything to her but he knew he could not, if not he might as well be pulling the trigger himself, or however he would decide to kill her, he wanted not to dwell on that.

"And how is that possible? I've already murdered, what," he retorted instead and tried to remember how many victims Jack the Ripper was supposed to have killed, "seven whores? How could one more make the slightest difference?"

"Murdered?" Molly repeated looking horrified and he was forced to grab her and bring the knife to her throat while holding the hand over her mouth, silently he prayed to whoever was listening for forgiveness.

"What more have I to lose?" he asked of Helen trying to stay in character.

"Your power's driving you mad, John. I can help," Helen offered yet again, why did it have to be her?

"My power is all I have left," he invented trying to keep up with the conversation before Helen pulled a revolver at him, he knew he shouldn't be surprised but a part of him hurt that she'd so easily kill him.

"Let her go," Helen said forcefully and he tried to figure out how he could escape with both his and Helen's lives intact.

"As the lady wishes," John offered beginning to remove his hand.

Helen's focus lagged slightly and as quick as he could he slit the poor woman's throat before teleporting away with a stinging feeling against hims cheek. He reappeared in Bartholomhew's house and half collapsed against the wall, a sob escaped him as he thought of what he had just done and slumped to the ground with a hand to the wound on his face.

"John?" questioned Bartholomhew entering the room and instantly moving over to him.

"I killed her Barty!" John yelled as the tears streamed from his eyes, "I'm a murderer! Oh god, what have I done?"

"I'm sorry," his friend offered sympathetically, "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," John replied moving his hand away and looking at the sticky blood clinging to his hand, "Helen was the one who... she..."

"She's alive," Barty told him firmly going and wringing out a damp cloth before returning and holding it to the wound, "you saved her life, think of that not of the dead girl."

"I wish none of this had ever happened," John moaned bitterly, "why Barty? Why?"