AN. Sorry, long note. I have a question. Does anyone in this category sign in to leave reviews? I got only three (so sad…) on my last BT fic but no one signed in to give them so I couldn't reply or say thanks.
The third review 04/08/13 'Anonymous' on my story Hunt is the reason I'm trying a BT piece again. They gave a nice review that made my day and mentioned that the category doesn't receive many new works. So in thanks I thought I'd try my hand at another piece. This one is a little darker compared to the previous Hunt. I'm not sure that's good but I'll let you people be the judges…

Please review. I absolutely love hearing from people, and can someone please tell me if this is listed in the proper genre when they're done? I don't know what it qualifies as… I'm so confused and I'm the one who wrote it…

It isn't set in a specific episode but the idea came from when Henry had the Illumination de Sol (sp?) in him and was ready to chomp down on anything in reach. Oh, and 'Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity' – I've been reading a lot of BBC Sherlock, you might recognize bits that have invaded my brain…

From that, somehow you get this -

The first thing he registers past the thirst is her scent. It calms him. The next thing he registers is that he is in fact feeding, finally, and he enjoys the warmth flowing past his lips. It hits him then; the scent of the one he holds, the taste of the blood in his mouth, it belongs to her. He is feeding yes, but from her. He removes himself from her throat quickly but still carefully to not cause anymore damage. She slumps against his front breathing heavily but still conscious. Her arms are wrapped around him weakly and they stand in a mocking imitation of a lover's warm embrace. He doesn't understand. He is still bound to the far wall of his 'cell'. She is free and the door stands open behind her. She would have seen his frenzied state upon entering. Why had she come close enough that he had come to feed on her?

"Victoria?" His voice is deep, harsh and rasps somewhat dryly despite his recent feed. He knows his eyes are black as the abyss his hunger had pushed him into. She remains silent and nuzzles into his chest almost sleepily and he wonders how long he had fed before his senses had returned to him. The fact that she is still standing, albeit with his bodies support, is in favour of her full recovery though he still worries over how lethargic she seems. He listens to her heartbeat. It's weaker than it should be but beats steadily. Content at least that she is in no immediate danger he lowers his head to the wound he created and carefully laps at the slowly leaking blood to seal the wound with his saliva. He can't be sure how much she has already lost to him but he can at least ensure she loses no more.

As pleasant as it was to have her resting on his chest he's not quite sure how she has ended up there or what has happened to his captor and he'd really like to leave before the man returns. With the wound sealed he calls to her again. This time she responds thought the reply is muffled by his chest to a degree that even his own enhanced hearing can't interpret it and he calls again pulling her off himself and helping her stand on her own. She wavers slightly but seems to pull herself together a little. The explanation she gives for her presence is halting, somewhat slurred and branches out on a couple tangents but eventually he sorts out what she's said and suddenly her almost drunken behaviour makes a little more sense. On top of the blood loss, which apparently wasn't nearly as much as he'd worried about, she'd been drugged earlier that evening.

She had managed to find their location earlier in the evening and headed there to confront his captor. The man had caught her unawares and a blow to the head had rendered her unable to stop him from injecting her with the drug cocktail currently coursing through her system. The man had apparently been terribly smug about it explaining it would merely induce a lethargic drunken like state in her. That he would feed her unresisting form to the very one she was intent on rescuing and laugh when he regained his senses to find himself holding her drained corpse. She had been able to rally then and tackle the man knocking him out in the ensuing struggle. For insurance she'd doused the man with a higher dose of his own drugs before coming to free him.

Though he couldn't remember her arrival she informed him that as she'd opened the door he had indeed been quite feral. It had only taken a few brief moments to catcher scent though and it had calmed him slightly. Though she had likened him to a dog; rather, a famished pup sniffing the air and whining at the scent of food. He really hoped that image of him was more something helped along by the drugs in her system than fact, or at least there was hope the drugs would make her forget the less than flattering comparison. She had believed it was a calculated risk to approach him slowly and calmly and offer to let him feed trusting that as he still seemed to recognize her as friendly he wouldn't kill her. She had looked off to side and stated that even if he did she'd had the forethought to bring the key to release him so at least he'd be well fed and he wouldn't still be at his captor's mercy.

Searching her pockets he found the key to release the manacles that bound him. He remained silent after her explanation unsure of how to respond to the display of such friendship. She was well aware he could have killed her and still she entered his cell. Even the few friends he had made over the years who were knowledgeable of his condition became uncomfortable at the mention of his diet, never mind the thought of willingly becoming part of it even at the best of times. Her actions truly baffled him though his own described reaction to her did so also. He'd never known it was possible for one so starved to come to their senses so quickly when food was secured.

Free from the confines of chains binding him he easily lifted her into his arms and headed to the door. She made the usual token protests of not being a damsel needing carrying but eventually submitted to it when, after being allowed a chance to walk, her legs turned into something resembling jelly beneath her. As he slowly walked along, having resigned herself to being carried, the adrenaline that had kept her focused on his rescue faded and she relaxed, dozing in his arms, succumbing to the drugs and blood loss she'd been holding at bay by shear will.

Travelling down the short corridor away from his recent cell he took the time to examine his current state. He was tired, sore and he was hungry, certainly. That thought was in the foreground of his mind. While the offer of food from Vicky was enough to regain his senses the scent of her blood still pulled at him viciously. He would need to feed properly and soon, to maintain the tenuous hold on his control.

He could hear another heart beating as he walked further from his previous cell. A room shut off from the current hallway was the source. He shifted Vicky in his arms to be able to open the door without putting her down and she murmured slightly but didn't comment on his actions. His captor lay in the middle of the floor, conscious but clearly under the drugs effects. The man's heartbeat called to him.

He carefully set his burden down off to the side of the room before advancing on the man who'd made his life hell these past nights. The pervasive hunger that was gnawing at him was a need that had to be dealt with. He knelt and grasped the man's shoulder's lifting his torso off the floor. Despite the drugs the man weakly pushed against his chest, at the very least sensing if not understanding the danger he was in. It made no difference. Henry gave into the hunger.

He returned to his senses to the feeling of eyes lingering upon him. He dropped the drained body he held and swung toward the one who watched him, ready to defend. He locked eyes with his observer and froze; the snarl he'd prepared to give dying before it reached his lips. Vicky stared back. His recent actions rushed back to him. He'd just killed the man who'd held him captive. Torn into his throat and drained every drop he could from the man. Vicky had woken while he'd been feeding; watched him kill and enjoy it. He let his eyes melt back to their usual hazel; any lingering hunger subsided at the thought of her fearing him for his actions.

Ever so slowly he rose to his feet and moved toward the wall she sat propped against. She made no move to avoid him; never flinched at his approach. He didn't understand. She should be terrified of him. He knelt in front of her. "Vicky?" He was glad to note that at least his voice had smoothed out to a soft baritone; it was no longer the rasping growl it had been.

She looked at him softly then. "Hey, Henry. You done with dinner for the night or are we stopping for takeout when we hit town? I don't think I'm up for playing snack anymore till tomorrow at least." A lazy grin played across her face.

What? How could she be joking about it? "Victoria… I killed him." Were the drugs still affecting her? Would she not understand what he'd done till they wore off later? Her reaction didn't make any sense.

She frowned at him then. "I know." He could only blink at the succinct reply. He didn't know how to respond. She tried to stand then using the wall for support but faltered on weak legs. Automatically he reached to steady her and she accepted his aid with a wry grin leaning into his side.

"Vicky, I don't understand." His tone was soft, almost childlike in its uncertainty. "I killed a man. A human. In front of you. Why… why aren't you afraid of me?"

"Well, he wasn't a very nice man, was he?" It is the only answer she gives before trying to resume their trek to the building's exit. He supports her as she staggers onward, far too lucid now to consent to being carried. He knows tomorrow, when she's had a chance to rest, perhaps she'll have something more to say on the matter but that she'll stand confidently against his side now even in her weakened states makes him marvel at her acceptance of his nature. This fearless atmosphere in the face of all he is is novel experience.

For being a spur-of-the-moment thanks-for-reviewing idea the thing ended up way longer than I thought it would. I wasn't actually sure where it was going to end when I started it so… it is what it is and that's all it will be. (I wasn't sure how I wanted it to end until I was about 900 words into it actually…)

Yes, Vicky's last bit is a nod to BBC's Sherlock (ASiP) which is my current obsession for writing (despite whatever I might post) and reading. And this is the part where I tell you that despite having written Hunt last Oct/Nov and Fearless just now in April I haven't read a BT fic since May of 2012 and before that January of 2011. *shrugs* They seemed like good ideas at the time.

Thanks again to my reviewers of Hunt. I really appreciate every review. I hope this piece was an enjoyable thank you for them.

Started 04/09/13, Finished 04/24/13.