Disclaimer: All characters from the TV series obviously belong to Toby Whithouse and the BBC

Author's note: As always reviews, comments and your ideas are very welcome and always appreciated!

Summer's death rattle was proving to be oppressively heavy and the air in the house was stifling. Johnny was beginning to feel as trapped as he had when Hal had him locked in a cage and to add insult to injury, all he had to show for the last few days was an ever growing pile of stakes.

Sarah's voice broke through his rambling thoughts. 'What happens when all this is over?'

'Ah, I see.' He gave a little nod. 'You're an optimist then?'

Sarah looked up from her needlework. 'What do you mean by that?'

'You're assuming that there's going to be an after. It makes sense though I suppose: only the staunchest of optimists could ever believe that someone like Hal Yorke could ever really change his ways.'

She set the fabric down on the table beside her. 'You make me sound naïve. He was a good friend, he was always there for me. If I didn't have faith in him then what kind of a friend would I have been in return? And yes, I am an optimist. I have to believe things are going to get better, otherwise what's the point?'

His eyes met her hers with a steely clarity. 'Revenge.'

'It's not healthy to base your whole life around that. Is that really what your brother would want you to do?'

A shrug. 'Probably not, but he's not here now is he?' He picked up another stick and began to whittle.

Perhaps time to move to safer ground, she decided. 'Are you sure you've got enough there stakes there?' She was eyeing the pile on the floor beside him, the beginnings of a grin evident on her lips.

He looked up at her again and for the first time in days a smile broke onto his face. 'What's that saying? The devil makes work for idle hands.'

'What the devil's involved too now?' she laughed. 'As if vampires, werewolves and ghosts weren't enough.'

'There's ghosts too? Seriously? Well, fuck me…This is actually insane isn't it? Under a year ago I was but a simple lawyer and look at me now, a werewolf making stakes with which to fight vampires.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'Do you ever wonder if you're going to wake up sometime?'

'I used to.'

'I just hate all this waiting.' He stood up and stretched out, releasing some of the tension in his body. 'Did Emilia say when she'd return?'

She had gone out the previous evening to find out the lay of the land with the vampires now that Hal had gone. Johnny was still wary of her intentions, it felt contrary to all of his instincts to allow himself to place this much trust in a vampire, especially one as close to his enemy as Emilia had been until a few days ago.

'No. Do you think something happened to her?'

'I doubt it, Yorke's gone and I doubt he'd have told anyone about what happened between them. As far as the rest of the vampires are concerned, there's no reason for them to suspect she's not loyal: she's the only one of his inner circle left. Do you think there's a chance she'll betray us?'

'No. It took her a lot of courage to do what she did. I can't see her going back to them now. I think the only reason she was even in London was to be with Hal.'

'Then where is she?' Johnny was getting agitated. 'She's been gone for almost a night and almost a whole day. Should we look for her?' He jumped on the excuse to get out of this damned house, even just for a few hours.

'If she's fine then you're just risking exposing both of you. It will be well known that a male werewolf killed Angus Fraser. Even if Hal and that other vampire have gone, they'll still be looking for you.'

'What happens now then?'

'We wait.'

'I'm sick of waiting.'

Honestly, it's like entertaining a small child. 'Then do something. You have family don't you? Write to them. Tell them you're alive. They've already lost one son, don't let them think they've lost you too.'

'They have lost me too.' He spat. 'I'm not the same man that they knew. This world, it corrupts you. I'd never even thrown a punch before I became a werewolf now I've lost count of the amount of vampires that I've killed, I even started to enjoy it.'

'You were forced into all of this, you've only done what you thought was necessary.'

'It still marks you. If I tell my family I'm alive it'll corrupt them too.'

'You don't know that.'

He bit down on his lip. 'I can't risk it. It's better for them…' his voice wavered, 'it's better for them if they believe me to be dead.'

It was good to have his feet back on solid ground, though they were still another day on horseback from their final destination. They had stopped at an inn in the middle of the countryside for the night. Wyndham had introduced the landlord and his wife to Hal as 'old friends'. The pair of them were vampires and it was clear that in that particular friendship the power sat firmly with Wyndham: they had shown utter deference to the Old One and Hal from the moment they had entered and had, without prompting, escorted the two of them to the best rooms. Hal observed the clientele during the little tour of the establishment, the punters were largely a mix of whore's and travelers with a smattering of vampires.

After the tour and the introductions were all done with Hal retired to his room for a while where to his delight he found that a tub of water had been left to heat over the fire in his room. It would feel good to finally wash away the salt that had dried and cracked on his skin during their voyage.

Once he finally felt clean and refreshed, Hal made his way down to the bustling dining hall. He saw Wyndham's men sitting around a table in the corner playing yet another game of cards and generally causing a ruckus. Hal seated himself at the bar and ordered himself an ale which was promptly provided without charge. 'Complements of les propriétaires' chirped the barmaid: a pretty little thing, but Hal had been informed that the staff were strictly off limits. He decided that this was probably not the wisest time to flout the rules, he would need to look elsewhere for his dinner.

He scouted the dimly lit room looking for Wyndham. The Old One was sat by one of the windows, deep in conversation with a pale woman with white blonde hair and finally drawn features. They must have noticed his attentions as they both turned to look at him. Wyndham made no gesture to invite him over and so Hal let his eyes wonder elsewhere. The inn's customers made for ideal pickings, he thought: whores were always a safe bet and it would be a while before any missing travelers would be noticed. Hal turned his attention to a girl who had taken a seat beside him, one glance told him she was a whore. She had dressed herself in a gaudy well-worn dress that was a little too tight, her breasts bulged out over the top of the dress leaving very little to the imagination. Hardly ideal, but she'll do, thought Hal as he flashed her a glimpse of his well filled coin-purse and gave her a well-practice smile. She was his before he'd even said a word.

Once they were outside she led him over to the stables away from the other guest's prying eyes. She fumbled to unfasten his trousers, Hal was in no mood for the preliminaries. He lifted the girl up allowing her to wrap her legs around him, pressed her up against the wall and thrust inside her. Barely pausing, he dug his fangs deep into her throat, she yelped in pain and tried to fight against him. She never stood a chance. Once she stopped moving he pulled away from her and let her body slide down the wall and drop to the floor. He took a step back from the body and paused for a moment to study his work. He'd made quite a mess of her neck: her head was barely attached and her skirts splayed out around her waist leaving very little to the imagination. Hardly the most dignified way to go, but never mind. He kicked her legs together allowing the corpse to preserve a small amount of its modesty: a little act of kindness, no need to leave the girl quite so exposed.

He fastened his breaches, took out his knife and knelt down to slash her coin purse from her waist. Waste not want not and all that. He'd have to remember to let their hosts know that there was a body to be cleaned up, it was only polite after all.

Her trip to the vampire headquarters had been informative. She had been worried at first, not that she'd told Sarah or Johnny. There had been rumours that Hal's replacement would be a vampire called Hetty, or was it Hattie? She wasn't sure of the name. The vampire had been a little girl when she was recruited. Emilia had had the pleasure of meeting her once and found her to be a vicious psychotic little bitch. She was known to have similar goals to Hal and the last thing the three of them needed was another ambitious vampire leading London. In the end it transpired Hal's stand-in was one of the Old One's representatives in England. Not a nice man by human standards, but relatively harmless for a vampire. His role was to maintain the status quo left by Hal. He had been picked precisely because he had no agenda of his own which hopefully meant that for now, she and her two new friends would hopefully be left well alone.

She turned her attention back to the task at hand. She was starving: she hadn't drunk fresh blood since before Lewis had been murdered. She had taken a flask with her when she ran, but its contents were now well past their best. She had briefly entertained the idea of going dry, but after just a few days her need for blood was consuming her every thought and it was taking all of her willpower to stop herself from just leaping at the nearest passing human and drinking them dry. She needed her wits about her right now and her cravings for blood were preventing her from focusing on the things that actually needed her attention. She wouldn't feed often. No, just enough to keep her urges under control. It wasn't like she was going after nice people, nice people didn't frequent bars like this. The world would hardly miss another lecherous drunk.

Speaking of lecherous drunks, one of the tavern's punters was making eyes at her across the room. She returned his advances with a coy smile, letting him know that he had her attention. For the moment she would let him think that that was a good thing. From the looks of him he was a long way from sobriety, but that would only make things easier for her. He stumbled over and took a seat on the bench beside her, planting a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek and winding his arm possessively around her waist. She wondered what her two new werewolf friends would think if they knew where she was and what she was doing. She couldn't imagine them accepting her killing humans for their blood, even if they were lowlifes like this man. She decided that this would be something that was best kept secret: no need to make relations between their mismatched little group any more complicated than they already were.

'Perhaps we should go somewhere more private.' His hand had found its way up to her breast now and she suddenly recalled seeing his face before at one of the society balls she had attended on Hal's arm, he had been there with his wife, she recalled. These so called respectable men. How many bastards must he have scattered around London Town?

'Yes,' she whispered, 'I think we should.'

She allowed him to guide her outside into the night as he mumbled something about there being spare rooms at a place where if you were able to pay the price, no questions would be asked. She wondered if that would have been her fate had she not met Hal. Waiting at the family home whilst her errant husband entertained women of ill-repute. Their destination was very close by, just at the point where the nice part of town and London's underworld met. A worn faced woman led them to their room, not even bothering to glance at their faces. Her companion had unknowingly picked the perfect venue for Emilia's intended activities as well as his own.

As soon as the door had closed she turned to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She touched her lips to his neck and felt the rich blood pumping just below the surface, she closed her eyes and felt the fangs push through her gums.

The hairs rose on the back of Hal's neck, he was being watched. A rustle came from the black woods surrounding the inn; Hal spun around knife in hand. It was Wyndham's companion from earlier. She was watching him intently and he wondered how long she had been standing there.

Mr Yorke isn't it?'

He nodded in acquiescence, letting his knife hand fall harmlessly to his side. 'And am I correct in thinking that you're a friend of Edgar Wyndham?'

'I don't know that a man like Edgar has friends per say, but we enjoy one another's company.' Her eyes were still on him reading every detail. 'You look very familiar Mr Yorke.' Her voice carried the finest hint of an accent.

'I think I would remember if we had met previously my Lady,' he stepped towards and gave an exaggerated bow, 'I would not forget a face as fair as yours.'

His charm did not hit its intended mark, 'You would have been very young then. I doubt you would have been seeing very much beyond the fog of all that blood.'

'But you remembered me. I must have made an impression on you.'

'You flatter yourself Mr Yorke. You may have made an impression, but it was not a good one. You tried to force yourself on me if I recall correctly, as if I were no more than a common prostitute.'

'I am sure I meant no disrespect.'

'If the things I have heard of you are correct Mr Yorke, it would seem you rarely mean anything other than disrespect when it comes to your dealings with the fairer sex.'

'Yet you still came out to see me.' He prompted.

'I came out for some fresh air. Edgar's talking politics, which frankly I find rather dull.'

He re-sheathed his knife and took hold of the woman's waist, spinning her around and pressed himself against her, trapping her between him and the stable wall. Apparently the whore's efforts hadn't left him entirely satisfied. 'I'm sure we can think of a more entertaining way to spend the evening.' His move was rewarded by a swift knee to the groin making him double over and stumble back from her.

'I had heard that you were quite the charmer, yet here you are trying to force yourself on me when you've still got bits of whore between your teeth.' She advanced on him. 'I think you're used to getting what you want from women aren't you Hal? Well you'll have to do better than that if you want to impress me.'

He was still bent double when she swiped at him with her leg and took his feet from under him. He toppled over and yelped as his coccyx collided with a rock on the floor. 'Jesus Christ woman! That was uncalled for!.'

She shrugged, 'Perhaps. But it was fun.' She knelt down on top him so that her legs were pinning his to the floor.

'So you're not entirely averse to the idea?' he laughed through his pain.

She slipped a hand into her skirts and produced a knife which she pressed hard against his groin. Hal's eyes widened: this was not how he had intended his evening to end. The woman was clearly enjoying his discomfort and pressed down harder. He gulped.

'I'm not like any woman you've ever met: I'm older than you and more powerful.' She held the knife steady. 'If you try to treat me as another one of your playthings I will castrate you. Otherwise I believe we shall get along quite well.' Finally she pulled away the knife and stood up. Hal breathed a sigh of relief. She held out her hand to him and helped him back to his feet. 'So are you going to play nice then?'

He let go of her hand. 'I wouldn't dream of anything else.' His smirk was back, it would take more than the threat of castration to dampen Hal Yorke's spirit.

'There is one thing I have always wondered. Whatever happened to Sacha? I heard he vanished without a trace. He was your maker was he not? He was so very proud of you, tried to convince me that you had great potential when I saw nothing but a thug.' She looked him up and down, 'I'm yet to be convinced personally. But you do seem to be capturing the imagination of all the right people. Still, it is a mystery what happened to him don't you think?'

Her smile was a little too knowing for Hal's liking. He made a mental note to be careful of this woman, whoever she was.

'Now if you will excuse me, my bed calls to me.' She turned from him and strode back to the main building.

'I didn't catch your name.' he called out after her, his voice a little shaky.

'No, you didn't.' he could hear a smile in her voice. 'Goodnight Mr Yorke. I'm sure we'll meet again.'