London,1864

The roar of the crowd thundered in Gideon Hartwright's ears as he peeled off his shirt and approached the boxing ring.

He didn't know why he had come back to this city, but maybe it was because he'd been here twice before, both as a human and as a vampire, and that made it familiar to him.

Nine more years had passed since he'd last considered coming back here, and those years hadn't been good to him. He had drifted across England, doing his best to avoid people unless it was to drink from them. He had never seen Howard again, but the ache from their final night together still weighed on him.

One some level he knew that humans often reacted that way to things that they didn't understand, but that didn't ease the sting.

He wondered if there would ever be a time when he didn't feel like an outcast. It didn't seem like there was any place that he could belong, and after a while, the life of a vampire began to feel like a curse rather than the gift that Nicholas had promised.

Howard's reaction had made Gideon want to hide away from the eyes of the world. It had left him struggling to connect to anyone, and he didn't dare try to forge any romantic relationships. It was too dangerous.

But did that mean he was doomed to be alone forever?

Maybe he should have accepted the offer of that blonde vampire, Jemima, when he'd met her in Banbury years ago. He had wanted to forge his own path, and where had it got him?

A heavy heart and an empty purse.

Which was what had brought him here, to the bare-knuckle-boxing ring in one of London's underground gambling dens.

Many years ago, when Gideon had still been learning how to be a vampire, Nicholas had taught him to fight, insisting that no one should ever be able to hurt him like his father had once done. Gideon had thought that vampire strength was enough to protect him, but Nicholas had been adamant that he learn how to best utilise that strength.

Gideon hadn't boxed since leaving Nicholas, but everything he'd learned was still with him, just waiting to be used.

In the middle of a wide open space in the den, a ring had been erected, although Gideon was unsure why it was known as a ring when the shape was actually square.

A rowdy crowd surrounded the ring, some of them cheering the current champion, Sidney Batchler, a burly man with a huge, dark moustache that projected from either side of his face like tiny wings. He stalked the ring, blood dripping from his knuckles and sprayed in a fine mist across his face, lapping up the attention of his fans, and laughing at those who'd bet against him and lost.

Gideon had watched the previous fight, had seen Sidney smash his opponent's jaw, and then kick him in the head when he went down. That last move was strictly against the London Prize Ring rules, but no one cared. There was no honour here, no rules. Fighters won however they could.

He paused outside the ring, and Sidney paused too, looking at him with a smirk that could only just be seen beneath his moustache. Around him, Gideon heard snatches of people shouting, placing bets, calling Sidney's name, booing Gideon before he'd even set foot in the ring.

Truthfully, he didn't know what he was doing here.

He did not consider himself violent by nature, but he was in need of money and this was a quick way to earn it.

Maybe he just wanted to feel something again.

He was tired of being lonely, tired of wandering around the country like a ghost, tired of a world that feared and hated him for no reason.

What would Nicholas think if he could see him now?

What would Howard think?

And somewhere at the back of his mind, he couldn't help wondering what Godric would think.

He very rarely thought of the brother that he'd once loved so fiercely, but every now and then, it occurred to him just how much things had changed since the night he ran off to be with Nicholas, and how neither he nor his brother would ever have foreseen Gideon ending up here.

Gideon stepped into the ring.

Sidney's smirk grew even wider, baring the gaps in his mouth where teeth had been knocked out. "This won't take long," he said, looking Gideon up and down.

Six foot tall and broad-shouldered, Gideon was far from small, but Sidney towered over him. His arms were great slabs of muscle. His chest was a barrel. If rumour was to be believed, he was undefeated in the ring, the champion of the underground boxing rings, and not all of his opponents were lucky enough to survive a bout with him. He'd already taken down several men tonight; by this point, there probably wasn't a spectator left who would bet against him.

That worked for Gideon.

Sidney was huge and dangerous and savage, but he was still human.

Gideon wasn't.

He was still waiting for the fight to officially start when Sidney punched him. Even for a human, it was a hell of a right hook, enough to make the world slide sideways. Gideon fell against the ropes, and though he could have shaken off the dizziness in a heartbeat, he feigned weakness, letting Sidney close in and hit him again.

In the background, more bets were eagerly being placed, all of them against Gideon, which was exactly what he wanted. He could take a punch or two, especially if it meant more money in the end.

Sidney grabbed the back of Gideon's neck and hurled him into the middle of the ring, then threw his fists in the air as the crowd roared his name.

Gideon wiped blood from what was almost certainly a broken nose, and as Sidney stomped over to him, he deftly rolled backwards, out of the way. If he hadn't watched a fight already he might have made the mistake of thinking that Sidney's size made him slow, but he'd weighed up his opponent beforehand, and Sidney was surprisingly quick on his feet.

Gideon was quicker.

Sidney threw a vicious punch at his face, but Gideon batted his fist aside, then delivered a punch of his own to Sidney, breaking the bigger man's nose in return.

Sidney roared, blood splashing into his moustache, and charged at Gideon, head lowered like a bull. Gideon sidestepped and slapped Sidney on the back of his head as he passed, deliberately mocking him rather than punching him outright.

Outside the ring, the cheers for Sidney had grown noticeably quieter and people were starting to talk among themselves about the young blond newcomer. Men and women alike stared at Gideon with open admiration, but he noticed them only in his periphery. He didn't care about the glory of a win; he was only here to win money, enough to keep a roof over his head for a little while longer.

Sidney lunged again, throwing jabs in quick succession, fast enough that several of them got past Gideon's defences. Nicholas might have trained Gideon, but Sidney was clearly the better fighter. He landed another punch to Gideon's broken nose, and stars exploded in Gideon's vision.

For the first time since entering the ring, he felt a jolt of anger.

He'd held back up until now, reining in his superior strength. He wasn't holding back anymore.

Seizing Sidney's wrist, he wrenched the other man's arm to the floor and broke it with a single kick. Sidney screamed, the first sound of pain he had made all night, and a real hush fell over the crowd. No one had ever seen him beaten before.

Gideon stood over him, and as Sidney looked up at him with teary, hate-filled eyes, Gideon hit him again, feeling the crunch of cheekbone under his knuckles. Sidney went down, and he didn't get back up.

Gideon crouched beside him and put a hand over Sidney's bloody mouth. The man had seemed to enjoy hurting his previous opponent, but that didn't mean Gideon wanted to kill him. Shallow breath tickled his palm – Sidney was alive.

A new chant rang through the crowd – Gideon's name this time.

He looked out over the ring, at the sea of face cheering him, and still he didn't feel anything. He'd only meant to fight in this one round, but when another man shoved through the crowd, his eyes fierce with violence, ripping his shirt off as he climbed into the ring, and the people yelling Gideon's name quickly started placing new bets. Despite the fact that they'd just seen him take down their long-time champion, some people still bet against him, and he was strangely annoyed about it.

Would it hurt to stay and fight another round?

No, he thought, watching his new opponent, as he put his fists up. It wouldn't hurt.

At least, it wouldn't hurt him.

Next week, we're getting another Gideon story, and a Roux/Ludovic story. I know some of you have been asking for one, so I hope you enjoy it when it comes :)