Damnit. God fucking damnit. He had been so close. It was all supposed to work out in the end. They were supposed to save the world, and then continue on to fight Templars another day. Together.

Obviously that failed horrifically.

Yes, the world did not burn a fiery death, but he almost wished it had. They saved a world that didn't know it was threatened, unleashed a vengeful, power-seeking Goddess, left the Templars to plot another day, and above all, Desmond died. His only son, gone.

William, alone in his room at the hideout was only now given time to comprehend the consequences of their actions. He had been so busy the last 18 hours escaping the Temple, fleeing to nearest hideout, and assessing the full extent of what they'd done, he hadn't a moment to think. It wasn't until Rebecca practically forced him towards a bed that sleeping, or eating, or even grieving crossed his mind. But now nothing else seemed to matter but his dead son.

Things were supposed to get better. His (estranged) son wanted to come back home. Desmond wanted to be a family. And William wanted nothing more

William wasn't lying in the slightest when he told Desmond that he had searched, day in and day out, for some trace of his lost child. Of course, it was convenient that the order also needed him back. Their numbers had been (and still are) very thinned out, to lose a member, even by his own choice, would not stand. What if the Templars killed, or captured him? What if they were able to access Desmond's unique heritage and genes? Even Desmond's simple knowledge of life on the Farm was a jeopardizing factor to his disappearance. Though William had never lost faith in his son, others believed that he could give away valuable information, and so he had to be found.

In some small way during those nine years, William felt a sort of pride in his son. Nine years is a long time to go unnoticed by the world, and more so, unnoticed by Abstergo. Of course William knew that the Templars had superior resources and numbers, and could have located Desmond at any time had he slipped up, but he also knew that the Assassin network was never far behind.

During that time William almost felt compelled to leave Desmond to live his life without interference from the Assassins, but that just wasn't an option. The Templars were going to find Desmond, and William could not let that happen. If they hadn't been a threat, maybe Desmond could have just moved on with life.

Then again, if the Templars weren't a threat, so many things would have been different.

The day William learned the Desmond had been located, was one filled with some small amount of joy, but mostly despair. His son was found, and he would be watched over by an Assassin they had on the inside, but this was the only comfort he found. He mostly felt despair at the life he had given his only child.

William wished the world wasn't as twisted as it was, but wishing would never get him anywhere. What the Assassin's were trying to do was good. He had always been utterly devoted to the Creed, but when Desmond came along, it became a much more personal devotion. It was difficult for William to show his love, but he truly was hoping to create a better world for his son.

William imagined that the day his son left would be one of the hardest days for him, but it paled in comparison to now. Desmond gave his life for an ungrateful world that hadn't the slightest clue of their foretold destruction. Thinking back, maybe they should have just let the world burn.

William never imagined he would be able to think such a thought, yet here he was, wishing it were true. In just a few short hours his wife would arrive, and the wounds would be torn open once again. He would tell her every little detail, and talk about how he had punched his own son, and called him an idiot, but eventually reconciled and were happy. She would not take it well. William loved his wife, he truly did, but like with his own son, he had trouble expressing it. He knew that nothing affected her more than the day Desmond left. Still her screams echoed in his head from the day he left, his own shouts mingled with hers. For a day she was silent, probably hoping that her child would return, but knowing he wouldn't. After that, she tried to continue on in life, as is the Assassins way. She was able to bounce back after a while, but the level of exuberance that once filled her had undoubtedly dwindled. William was certain that had she known that there was any chance of her seeing Desmond again, she would have never agreed to split up from William those months ago.

And now, the last news she would have heard would have been that William had finally got their son back. There was no doubt that someone had yet to inform her of the outcome of the mission. She was on her way here right now, expecting to be reunited with her son, the boy that she hadn't seen for nearly ten years. And she was going to be robbed of that.

As William removed his hand from holding up his head, he noticed that it was...wet? He had been unaware until that moment of the torrent of tears that were freely flowing from his eyes. It had been...years? No, more like decades since he could remember last crying. Actually, the last time that just a single stray tear was let loose was the day that Desmond was born. He had not cried for years before then, nor had he cried after. Until today. Today seemed to be a day of firsts for William.

Disclaimer-I do not own Assassin's Creed

This is something I recall writing several months ago after being disappointed with the ending of ACIII. I originally intended this to be a longer story, but I know I wouldn't finish it, so this will remain as is.

This had been the beginning of the next chapter:

"I had said that this decision was yours to live and die with, so now you will do just that."

Feeling as though he had the worst hangover ever, Desmond attempted to shut out the person that was shouting in his ear and the light that was scorching his retinas.