HUNGRY

A Salem fanfiction by Millie55.

"A hungry hunter, is the most dangerous kind." – John Alden. After years at war, Captain John Alden returns home to Salem. Empty. Starving. Hungry for justice, forgiveness and the love from young heart.

Pairings: John Alden/OC, Mary Sibley/Isaac Walden, Gloria/Cotton Mathers/OC, Anne Hale/OC.

Rated M.

Warning: The following will contain acts of violent and sexual natures – as the show Salem displays on a regular. This includes and is no limited to nudity, prostitution, incest, homosexual and heterosexual sexual relations, cussing, relations with an under aged partner, and fornication. Religious views of the Puritans will rise and will be challenged as it is also a common obstacle in the WGN show. Don't like, don't read.

Mary trust me, I will come back for you. Hey, Look. This is all that I have. And I swear on my parents grave, this is my vow. This war will not last a year.

- John Alden, Season 1: Episode 1

Chapter One

Seven Years Later.

The ground once wet and muddy, now a dry and cracking path into the town of Salem. The boots that once sunk deep into the grasp of the sludge, now kicked up the dust only for it to be caught in the wind. The worn boots did not walk alone, they had another pair walking beside them. Just as worn and dirty than the first. The leather peeling and the thread unwinding as they fell apart. Many days of war they had seen, but nothing could have prepared them from the sights they had yet to see.

Parting in the trees came the town's edge and the old gallows, hanging in three at the neck were women of Salem. For no crime before had they seen a woman hang. Their skin left gray and their life left their body. Eyes that were once bright and youthful, now covered in the milky glaze of death. Attracted to the stench that kept the locals away came the flies, buzzing around the peeling flesh to eat and lay the eggs of maggots. They would soon rot again in the hot sun as a reminder to all that no one in Salem was safe.

"I assume this be not the result of women's blether," The voice of Edmund Quinn erupted from his lips surrounded by his on growing beard. He was not the young boy who had left years ago, but instead a man. A man with tired eyes, calloused hands and strength that was beyond his own belief. He had Captain Alden to thank for his strength among many things. During their days with the militia, John acted as a brother to Edmund. Aiding and teaching the boy to use weapons as well as fight. He was the reason Edmund had survived the war.

John let off a slight shrug, unable to think of a reason to hang woman as young as they appeared to be. They could be no older than he. How much trouble could they have gotten into? "Your father knows why I'm sure," John spoke before continuing his way into town, "He has seven years of stories to tell."

A sense of excitement coursed through Edmund, his feet picking up speed at the thought of seeing his family. His sister was only ten when he had left her, she would be very much a woman now. Having her own family was very much a possibility. "Would you like to step in?" Ed asked as they came to the front door. He knew John had no family to return home to, and his second mother would be just as welcoming to his fellow soldier. John however had his love Mary Walcott to return to.

The two split ways with promise to meet for a drink. Pushing his way through the heavy door with a thump, Edmund called out, "Mother? Father? Katherine?" The silence that followed coursed through Edmund's bones with a chill. Not once had he heard this house so quite, the halls were no longer filled with Katherine's youthful laughter, his father's low whistle as he sat in his study nor the squeak of his second mother's old rocking chair as she sewed. The sounds of his childhood were gone, had his family gone with them?

"Edmund?" The voice had erupted from the end of the corridor in the back room where his mother used to sit by the fire and knit. Excitement filled the young man's body. Someone was home. Elizabeth was home.

"Mother!" He called in return as if to make sure his ears were not making a fool of him. Falling from his hand was his sack at the sight of the short dark haired woman at the end of the corridor. The woman may not have birthed him, but his mother she was. Brisk steps carried him to her, catching her in his arms that had drown strong during the years at war. "After countless nights lacking sleep, the security of a mother's embrace brings rest in the ache of my tired soul." Edmund whispered out as his mother's face buried in the chest that was no longer of the child that had left her. Pulling back, her aging hands reached up to caress his rough cheeks as she once had years ago.

"To see no harm be done to you dear Edmund brings rest to us all," She spoke and watched as his tired eyes grew brighter.

"Father and Sister, they be here? Years too long has it been since I have seen my dear sister."

Elizabeth shook her head as her hand stroked his cheek, "No, no dear. your father be at the bar and Katherine be in the company of Reverend Lewis."

Edmund felt his face pale at the mention of the reverend. He knew very well that the older man had lost his wife and did not feel comfortable with the fact that his little sister was with him. Lewis had a daughter not much older than Katherine, was the man so sick that he would remarry a girl younger than she? "Courting she he has been?" His words escaped his hips in a worried yelp. Please not his baby sister.

Elizabeth almost laughed at his inquiry. In no way had young Katherine had been courted. Yes, she had hit the desirable age but her father was a respected man and her hand in marriage was one not easily taken. "She be friends with his daughter Mercy, and Katherine be tending too her while she be sick." His second mother explained in an assuring tone.

"Katherine and Father, I have to see them. Tell them that I am alright."

"I will be here on your return," She promised before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Ed then departed, moving out onto the dirt streets in search for his family. It was there he ran into John accompanied by Giles Corey, their eyes watching balcony of Sibley home where Mary Wallcot stood dressed in the finest fashions. She was Marcy Sibley now, the wife of the most powerful man in Salem.

With little notice to who stood down on the streets of Salem, Mary retired to her rocking chair. With Mr. Sibley excused for his bath, Isaac sat at her feet. His lean frame rested against her legs, and head of raven hair found comfort in her lap. "Now, Isaac," she addressed him, her voice soft and caring unlike when she gave orders to her other workers. He however was not just one of her workers but her brother. "Tell me some news of the world." Her fingers stroking through his hair with a tender touch, they ran over the 'F' that he had received from her husband years ago for his act of fornication. She would hate to see what George would do to him now if he were ever to find out what they did.

"Saw a dusty fella walking into town today," Isaac spoke his dark eyes falling shut at her mesmerizing touch. No woman was a gentle and kind to him as she, as most were disgusted by him and his previous acts. "I couldn't believe my eyes." Warm lips met his forehead, dragging the lower lobe over the salty flesh in a slow kiss causing Isaac to take in a deep breath.

"Why?" Mary spoke out breathlessly before her lips moved over his forehead once more, her hands moving over the thin cotton of his shirt that was soaked with perspiration.

"It was John Alden."

A gasp escaped Mary's sweet lips at the mention of her ex-lover who was believed to have died as war. Her blood ran cold, a hand leaving Isaac to fall on her stomach that was once swollen with their child and instead was flat since the night in the woods with her slave girl and friend Tituba who offered their child to the devil in exchange for the power she now lived for. "That be not possible." Her words were breathless as she left her brother on the floor to move to the window to take in the sight of the town below. Then with her very own eyes she spotted him. Hair long and tangled, eyes tired and sunken from the war, was John standing in front of the old Alden home that was left to him in his father's estate. He was not dead, and he was now back in Salem.

Hair handing long and knotted over his cheeks, dressed in coarse leathers and linens dusted in dirt. He walked alone, earning glances from the towns people. He did his best to keep his head down. John Alden didn't exactly leave on the right foot. Attention however was drawn to him when a figure called out from him and jogged to catch up.

"Seven years too few to get sick of me?" John's gruff voice greeted the young boy he had watched grow into a man. Edmund was very much like a brother to him now.

"If it had only been a day longer," Edmund joked with the man as he fell into pace along side him. "Have you seen my father? My dear sister Katherine? Only my mother had been home."

John looked the boy over, pushing a dark strand from obstructing his vision. He remembered Mr. Quinn. A stout man, black hair held back out of his face and aware from his beard. He also recalled that the man often reeked of liquor even for his status in town. Edmund's little sister however was but a child when he had last seen her. He couldn't imagine the woman she had become after their years away from Salem.

Shaking slowly, John nodded towards the pub. He could only assume that was where they could find Mr. Quinn. Edmund followed his direction and looked to the pub. When he was last in town, he had rarely stepped foot in the place never mind been able to hold his liquor. The thought of going inside almost made him nervous, but he was a man now. A man in search of his father.

Edmund let the John lead the way inside, his head of messy blond hair fighting the need to be timid. He remained on the search for his father, spotting him by the bar. His face lit up the darkness of drunken men, lingering whores and the rank stench of liquor and vomit.

"Father!" his voice had adapted a near childish quality in that moment. It had been like hearing a ghost call out from the other side. Long ago, Mr. Quinn had accepted that his son had died at war, but there he was a grown man standing feet from him. The council man almost cried. Screeching, the bar stool was pushed back for the man to stand and approach the boy. With the embrace, he discovered that Edmund had grown much taller than he. It made him laugh.

"You're alive," he grinned wide, his break smelling as if he hadn't left the bar in days.

"I'm alive," Edmund repeated as he looked over his father's aged face. It only then hit him how long he had really been gone. His father had changed, he hand changed, everything had changed. He had hoped it had been for the better. "I wanted you to know, but Katherine. I still have yet to see her-"

His voice was cut by that of a man seeking assistance at the house of Reverend Lewis. The idea made the young man's heart race. "I be headed that way," he spoke up, making up one of the three men needed. John took the queue, joining as well. They had to subdue a girl.

The walk to the Lewis house was made on quick feet. Edmund did his best not to move ahead of who he learned to be Cotton Mather. The concern for his sister, made his brow sweat. She was there, or so he was told.

There wasn't even time to knock before the front door had been ripped open with a creek. Edmund almost didn't recognize the woman who was on the other side. Her curly blond strands were falling from their desperate attempt at an up-do, her features had grown strong with age but remained feminine. The woman with sweat drench skin and a figure anyone but Edmund seemed to notice was his little sister.

"You have to help her," Katherine spoke out as she ran a towel over the back of her neck. Fear was evident in her large blue eyes, but she remained calm and in control of this fear. Mercy was her friend, she wasn't going to watch her suffer.

It almost hurt Edmund that she hadn't recognized him right away. She was just a child when he left, maybe she had forgotten about him completely. Instead of speaking up, he followed her inside. The four men squeezed into the tiny halls. Screams echoed off the wall, they were pain filled, strangled.

Katherine pushed open the door unveiling Reverend Lewis bedside to his daughter Mercy who continued to scream and strained her body across the bed.

"Tie her down! Tie her down!" Mather ordered out. Edmund gave his a questioning look at first. It was then sent to John but they both moved to do as they were told. Mercy resisted, though it was out of her own control.

"Stop! You are hurting her!" Katherine cried out, her body lurching forward to intervene. The third of the collected men, moved to restrain the tiny blond, earning a shove of disapproval from Edmund who had abandoned the task at hand.

"Touch my sister and you will have no hands to touch again!" he bit out before moving to retrain his little sister. He trusted no one else to do such task.

"Edmund?" She breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched her friend wither in pain. He gave a subtle confirmation, pulling her out into the hallway and away from the horrific sights. Her body collapsed into his, hanging off him out of desperation for support.

Had they been exposed to some sort of illness or plague? Where they all going to end up with the same fate of Marcy Lewis? "Katherine what is going on in there?" Edmund asked, worry finding it's way in his voice.

"Witchcraft."