William Adams

William "Damon" Adams, eternally nine years old. He likes Stephen King novels, rock music and tacos more than he likes people, in fact he doesn't do well around others at all. He's been a part of the Adams coven for 14 years.

[william-adams]

Demon Damon || Brent&Damon

[brent--adams]

When Damon didn’t answer right away, Brent frowned. He contemplated rephrasing the statement into a command instead of a question, but his thoughts were cut short when Damon stood. His eyes followed the younger vampires gaze and the frown on is face deepened. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what could have been running through the boy’s mind. He looked less like a young boy observing people and more like a hunter searching for it’s prey. It didn’t fit him, at least not in Brent’s opinion. The look of a killer was not one that he wanted Damon to have. He had saved the boy that one night so many years ago to give him another chance at life, not for him to stain his hands with the blood of innocents. 

Slowly, Brent rose from his seat and moved closer to Damon. Placing his hand on Damon’s shoulder, Brent tried to bring his attention away from the humans and back to him. “William.” His voice was stern now. The time for relaxing and being gentle was over. He wouldn’t let Damon harm any of these people, not just for the sake of keeping their secret but for the sake of Damon’s humanity. Brent had no idea what his son had been up to, but he knew it couldn’t have been anything good. Not with the way he was acting now. 

"William, we’re leaving. Now." He didn’t remove his hand nor did he make any other moves. He just stood there staring down at Damon until he got a sign that the boy understood his words and would comply with them.

[william-adams]

Damon was lost in watching the others, not even Brent's hand on his shoulder stole his focus away. He didn't see why it would be such a big deal. What if they were bad? It wasn't likely. But to him, all people no matter how innocent looking, had potential to be harmful. Never judge a book by it's cover, right? Upon hearing his name, Damon pulled his gaze from the humans and looked up at Brent. He was torn. Brent had been nothing but loyal, the father he never had but always wanted. Kind, generous, always there when Damon needed someone to fall back on. But at the same time, he didn't understand why his alpha opposed this so much. He respected the man and wanted to follow the rules set for him but the alternative was so tempting. One, that was all he wanted. He felt Brent would understand. One time.

But it wouldn't be once, it would always be just one more time. One after another. Attempting an escape, Damon ducked down to try and get away from the older vampire. Though it wasn't realistic and he was merely giving into thirst, Damon truly believed one little bite would do it. He'd be able to settle back down to blood bags and animals... so he thought. Damon didn't have any intention on killing the scrawny young adult, but it would happen regardless if he managed to get his hands on him. As fast as he was, he knew Brent was faster but bolted anyway. One little bite and the stranger could go back to his mindless typing. Damon just wanted to sink his teeth into one, there were plenty more to spare. 

[william-adams]

Demon Damon || Brent&Damon

[brent--adams]

Brent noticed Damon’s body language right away. The rigidness of his body and the way he shut his eyes tightly alarmed Brent. Taking a sip from his coffee, the alpha vampire continued to watch the boy carefully. As usual, he kept his calm demeanor, not wanting to cause a scene and also because he did not believe yelling truly got through to Damon. Yelling could be easily tuned out and ignored, besides he wasn’t angry enough to shout and loose his cool.

He waited until Damon responded and then finished off his coffee before speaking. “Care to explain to me where you were all this time? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.” He refrained from using the word we and referring to the whole coven in general, knowing that it wouldn’t help and that he couldn’t speak for the others. A tired sigh left his lips as Brent leaned forward in his chair. “Would you feel more comfortable if we weren’t around people? You could speak freely then.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Catherine came back with the water. This time she didn’t stay for long, leaving the water on the table and then hurrying over to another customer that was waving her over. Grasping the glass in his hand, Brent offered it to his son. Without knowing the full story he could not and would not judge, at least that’s what he told himself. However, that did not stop scenarios from flying through his head. Had someone attacked him first? Had he not been feeding properly? Surely there was a good explanation for his appearance. He just needed to wait for an answer. And wait he would, even if it took more than a few hours. The pair had an eternity’s worth of time, after all. 

[william-adams]

The longer they remained at the table, the harder the presence of people was to ignore. He didn't want to explain, Damon hadn't talked about anything that had happened over the passed year. The very idea made him feel ill in ways he couldn't explain. While he'd always been quiet, it wasn't often he blatantly ignored Brent. He could have offered something, at least a no, but he remained silent. That was, until he spoke of the people. Damon shook his head, standing when Catherine approached once more. Keeping his hands on the table, he thought of how satisfying it would be to stop holding himself back. In that brief moment, he want nothing more than to sink his teeth into her wrist.

Consuming anything but blood and the occasional taco had always been an issue with Damon. He refused every gesture and every offer. This particular offer of water was met with the same reject as Damon shook his head a bit. He wasn't after water. The waitress wasn't the only one who looked so appealing. Just two tables over sat a scrawny man who wouldn't see it coming being so preoccupied by his computer. Before, he would remind himself just exactly what he was looking at. Maybe a student, working on finishing an assignment or a writer trying to meet a different sort of deadline. But now, all he saw was someone disposable. The same could be said for the mother and daughter duo not much farther from the him. Damon didn't so much as look at Brent during his people watching, which was slowly starting to turn into people hunting. 

[william-adams]

Demon Damon || Brent&Damon

[brent--adams]

For the three consecutive Wednesday mornings, Brent sat outside a small coffee shop a few blocks down from the library. To anyone else the coffee shop seemed like all the others in Beacon. It served mediocre coffee, half the time it was empty, and the bagels were over priced. Brent could have chosen any other one to go to, but there was something different about this one. Someone, as a matter of fact. 

Wednesdays were reserved for Brent’s favorite game; find an interesting woman and see how long it took for him to get her number. This round of the game had taken three weeks and the lucky woman was named Catherine. From their brief conversations he knew that she painted in her spare time, only worked the morning shifts, and just recently moved to Beacon to help out her aunt. She was a charming and clever girl. At first it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to charm her, but Brent wasn’t one to give up on someone he was pursuing. Nor did he lose in games he created. Now, Brent wasn’t a heartless man. He wouldn’t just get her number and then end it there. No, he’d still keep in contact and possibly take her out to dinner. It varied with each girl. So far he had succeeded six times since he started his game about a month ago.

Catherine would be the seventh, he was sure of it. He could see it in her eyes as she walked over to his table. The corners of his lips began to curve upwards into a charming grin until a certain someone plopped down in the seat across from him. Turning his head around, Brent scanned over the figure of the boy in front of him. The first thing Brent noticed was the dried blood and dirt that covered him. With a small sigh of his own, the older vampire greeted Catherine, who was now at his table and staring at the child with wide eyes. “Thank you, darling. If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could bring me a cup of water?” His voice was as velvety as it normally was when he spoke to women. As expected, Catherine’s attention went straight back to him. Her cheeks flushed before she smiled softly and turned to leave. Once she was gone, Brent looked back at Damon. No, not Damon. William. William was the name Brent gave to him and the only name he would call him.

"William…You’re aware that you shouldn’t be out in a public place if you haven’t cleaned up,correct?" His tone was even and his face was void of any traces of anger. With the way he spoke one would think that he wasn’t upset at all upon seeing his adopted son caked in dirt and blood. That was far from the truth. He was more concerned and confused than he let on, but this was a case that required a certain level of finesse.

[william-adams]

Damon leaned forward to put his hands on the table when the the young lady approached. Immediately he tensed up, it was apparent just how uncomfortable he was in close proximity to a human judging solely by how rigid he'd become. Shifting uneasily, Damon looked away and tried to distract himself with thoughts of home, he wondered how different things were now. It wasn't good enough, it was agonizing not being allowed just one little taste. Shutting his eyes until she left, Damon anxiously scratched at his wrist. He'd been thankful as she walked away, having noticed his left foot touching the ground, ready to give in. Brent's presence only held him back to an extent.

He hadn't noticed his appearance, not entirely. Damon was aware he wasn't in his normal condition but it hadn't mattered for so long. Without anyone to control him, he'd let himself run wild in all aspects. "Yeah..." He mumbled, only briefly allowing Brent eye contact. Scratching the back of his head, Damon scrunched his nose and glared at the table for just a moment. Another thing he hadn't done in a while was talk. He didn't speak to his victims and making casual conversation with strangers was not his forte. Opening his mouth to speak, Damon was quick to shut it and bite his lip. There were a lot of things he wanted to say. For starters, he'd missed Brent and even the dorks in his coven. He missed having someone to talk to, be honest with and get advice from. He missed home. He missed his books. He wished Brent would have been there to stop his mistakes. He missed not being alone. But above all else he wished he would have been stronger and returning with good news about self improvements but... unfortunately it was the exact opposite. 

Lifting his hands up a little off the table, Damon gestured 'I don't know' before dropping his head a bit, feeling defeated. He hoped Brent would just yell at him already, waiting while his adoptive father sat so calmly was torture.

[william-adams]

Demon Damon || Brent&Damon

Damon felt numb. The long walk from Virginia hadn't been rushed. He was overwhelmed by a slew of emotions. Guilt for disappearing for a year, sadness over the the lack of satisfaction, anger for feeling like a bigger monster than his father and fear that Brent would turn him away once he'd learned what Damon's adventure had entailed. He'd lost count of the bodies he'd left in his wake and that was something he knew Brent would be upset with. All of their work had been for nothing. While Damon had always found difficulty in being around humans, he could manage before he left. Temptation was always there but he had the ability to resist for the most part. But as he crossed into Beacon Hills, he really felt all the weight of those lives. Brent was not going to be happy.

Though he was twenty three, Damon appeared to be your typical child. What could be construed as splotches of dirt covering his arms, face and dark clothes was actually dried blood that had caked and faded with time. Actual dirt also played a part in looking like a muddy child at a glance rather than a blood covered one. It would have been wise to wash away the evidence but Damon hadn't bothered trying to hide it, Brent would know. Though it should have been a priority, he didn't much care if people noticed it was in fact blood.

Not wanting to go home, Damon searched the city until he located Brent. Running into the rest of his coven before Brent wouldn't have been good for him. There was a chance their company would make him leave again. The relationships he shared with them were complex. Without a word, Damon joined Brent at the table he'd been sitting at. Plopping down on the seat, he let out a sigh. He was exhausted. Damon physically could make the walk all over again, twice without issue. But mentally, he was shot. With the coven, he slept at night. It kept him reasonable and level headed when his mind was able to take a break. Time would never change the fact that he was still nine and sleep did nothing but benefit him. Not looking at Brent, Damon kept his eyes on the table between the two.