"We shouldn't," Michel Belmont said, twisting his hands nervously.

His older brother Christian snorted. "Why not? The old man's dead. Why should we suffer for his fight?"

"Well..."

"See?" Christian shook his head at his brother's foolish devotion. "You know as well as I do he only ever saw us as tools to continue the hunt against that vampire Matthew-"

"Mathias."

"Whatever. Point is, I never saw any damn vampire worth all this trouble. Did you?"

Michel chewed nervously on his lip. He had seen vampires. They had mostly been pathetic, half-feral creatures desperate for blood. One had lived in a fine manor house with servants and grew fat off the surrounding land. That was the one Michel felt good about helping destroy. He vaguely hoped to have that feeling again.

Afterwards, Father had patted them both on the back and said they had fought admirably. It was one of Michel's most precious memories.

But Christian only remembered the blood and the fire and the pain, so Michel shook his head.

"Exactly. That damn fool's quest killed Mother and nearly killed us too, and what did Father ever say about it? Nothing but 'our duty to hunt the night' and 'there is great evil in this world'. He didn't even react when Mother died." He spat. "I know plenty about evil in this world, and most all of it comes from men."

Christian didn't understand. Yes, being dragged along on the hunt in the middle of winter had killed Mother, who had never really recovered from the illness after Michel's birth, but Christian only saw that Father hadn't stopped or found a doctor. He hadn't seen the look in Father's eyes when Mother died, or the way his hand had clutched the whip so tightly when they lowered her into the frozen ground.

There had been love there, behind the mask of duty. Michel had seen it. And even if Christian was right, even if Father never had cared for any of them...that just showed the importance of the duty, didn't it? Father had been a kind man in his heart. Michel knew it.

Christian gave Michel a long look, filled with a familiar mixture of fondness and exasperation. "Come on, stop looking so glum," he said, throwing an arm around Michel's shoulders. "There's a count near here looking to hire men for his army now the Holy Land's taken and local war's in the air again. We throw the whip in a ditch, go pick up Marie, and join up to get all the food, pay, and plunder we never got as hunters. A few campaigns and we'll be rich!"

Michel gave his brother a weak smile. "I would like to see Marie again," he said. It was true, he did miss his sister. The only ones they could ever really rely on had been each other, but she had settled down with a man in an attempt to escape the hunter's life. And then the man turned out a drunkard, but too many bridges had been burned for her to want to come home. Now Father was dead she could join them again.

"That's the spirit!" Christian cheered, pounding Michel on the back. "So to hell with this thing-" he raised the whip to catch the fading light before throwing it as far away as he could "-and let's be on our way! We're free men now!"

"Free," Michel echoed, and let Christian drag him along.

It was cold, damp, and dark in the forest.

Michel raised his lantern - carefully, because of wild beasts and men - and looked again. It had been in this direction, he was sure.

It wasn't that Christian wasn't right. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Marie again. It wasn't that he didn't dream of freedom, or good food and wine, or having money, or even sleeping in a bed. And it wasn't that Father had lavished him with love and care - anything of the sort had gone to Christian, the strong one, the one Father had pinned all his hopes on. Michel had been willing, so willing, but he was weak and short of breath and shook when confronted with creatures of the night.

But...but...

He stumbled on a root and fell flat on his face in the muddy grass. The lantern slipped from his grasp and rolled on the ground, flickering like it was about to go out.

Michel raised his sore head and slowly pushed himself to his knees. He was wet and muddy and hurt. Back in town Christian was snoring in a warm bed. He could...he could just go back, fall asleep, and pretend he'd never gone out on this fool's errand. He could go with his siblings and enjoy life. He could.

He raised his head, and right in front of him, lit by the dim glow, was the whip.

He stared at it.

This was it. His last chance. He could go back and join Christian and fight in the count's armies and live the life he'd dreamed of. Or he could pick up the whip and chain himself to destiny.

If he picked it up, he'd die. Father had died young, and Michel wasn't half the fighter his father had been. He'd burn himself out fighting monsters for...for...

He reached out his hand and closed his fingers around the handle.

Once, Father had praised him. Once, he'd felt good about his life as a vampire hunter. Once, he'd known his destiny.

The whip settled in his hands and if he concentrated he could feel the spirit Father had always claimed was there, watching over them. A warm, bright fire of righteousness.

Michel stood up, shaking. He was going to hunt the night.

A/N: I love Leon, he's my favorite Belmont, but he'd be a terrible husband and father.