Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.

Warm wishes for the holidays everyone. It may be another two weeks before I scrape you off the cliff I'm about to leave you on. Ever so sorry. (#givesevils) In my defense, this was originally two chapters. Hope you enjoy the longer read!


Life on the Hebridean Isles appeared to be entirely dictated by the schedules of tide and ferry. A queue was already forming for the passage to the Isle of Skye when Hal and Alex reached Tarbert. Alex was certain it was the only traffic congestion the little town ever encountered. After departing from their own ferry and driving a winding road north, they arrived into a snarl at the bridge that separated South & North Harris. Hal's frustration at trying to remain out of sight of rear view mirrors filled the tiny car, even though the queue was cleared quickly. He didn't travel well.

A small school, windows decorated with cut paper jack o'lanterns and flossy cobwebs, sat between a crossroads and Hal slowed the car. Most of the traffic continued along the road curving to the east but Hal seemed unsure.

"Thought you knew where you were going, smartass," Alex teased. "Why not stop for directions?" she added with a flair of pragmatism which Hal retorted with a glare. "Fine. At least stop the car so I can rent-a-ghost in to bump a map?" He retained his scowl at her suggestion and kept driving. Alex shook her head and leaned dramatically against the window.

Whitewashed buildings of unknown age paced the road in clusters that grew in spaciousness as the bay widened north. Hal peered at the few road signs they passed, printed in a mix of Gaelic and English. The few other cars ahead turned off towards their various destinations and soon they were one of the only vehicles travelling past town. Alex nearly goaded him again except he brightened. "Huisinish, there," Hal gestured triumphantly as he turned the car onto a single lane road.

Once they were barely two miles out of town, Alex's unnecessary breath was taken away. She was on the coastal side and privy to some of the most spectacular scenery she had ever seen. The entire morning had been a beautiful and pleasant holiday drive, but this was heavenly. Sunlight reflected through the heavy marine layer that still hugged eddies and lowlands. The hunkered landmass across the inlet was glowing indigo as it protruded from the mists. Overhead, spots of blue broke through the clouds, contrasting with the green that rolled away from either side of the winding road. The water shimmered as it was revealed between the slopes of the hillocks, and purple thistle dotted the roadside. The entire view was like a clichéd watercolor. All it needed was a castle.

"Why haven't you ever come up here?" Hal asked after several miles, breaking her reverie.

Alex pulled herself away from the window and shrugged. "There was a school educational trip once, but I skived off. Didn't know what I was missing I s'pose," she admitted then turned back to enjoy the view. Hal navigated the little car smoothly through the twists, turns and dips in the road.

A grey tower rose out of the hills. As the castle came into view Alex guffawed.

"No effing way. That's not your friend's place, is it?"

Hal considered momentarily but then shook his head, "No, I believe the address is nearer to the end of the road."

The castle, turrets and all, loomed over them as they passed, though Alex noted it had modern windows. "Oh God," she exclaimed as the thought occurred to her. "You've probably lived in one of those."

"A castle? They're best to be avoided really. Bloody drafty."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Hal, not sure if he was serious. She caught the edge of a smile though and punched his arm good-naturedly. "Oh come on. You've totally rocked a castle."

"Maybe," he neither admitted nor denied as they drove through the weather-worn archway of the castle gate. The road began to climb once more up and away from the lushly landscaped grounds. "This one is a hotel now. We can return sometime, if you would like."

Alex grinned, "Aw, that would be sweet. You still owe me a real date after all," she teased. "Hey - maybe it's my business to haunt a castle?"

"They usually already are," Hal declared with a smirk. The little car sputtered a bit on the ascent, kicking out a cloud of smoke and Hal downshifted. At the rise the engine shook and caught.

"How much further you think?" Alex asked, eyeing the gauges.

"Couple of miles." The car sounded better on the downhill. They passed a mile or so in silence as Alex returned her attention to the countryside. Hal hoped the car would last. He knew that eventually this road ended at a public beach, so the address they were seeking couldn't be too much further. Once they spied it, Hal intended to drive past and return on foot. They may be in need of the element of surprise.


Cookpots clunked and the smell of fire-brewed coffee permeated the air. The car park bustled with campers starting their day. Tom passed two young children - a girl chasing a boy with bubbles, gleefully giggling - and he smiled as he took a long lungful of air. It was good to get out and about.

Tom's stride slowed when he came 'round the pack's caravan. Their camp was quiet, coals gone cold, and a fine layer of dew still sat on the chairs. At first Tom thought that maybe they were all having a lie-in, but his senses couldn't detect any other werewolves nearby. They weren't here.

Which is why he was completely startled when the caravan's door creaked open and out stepped Dominic Rook. He paused briefly at the sight of Tom, one eyebrow jutted to a sharp point, then he sighed and casually latched the door behind him. Rook stepped onto the grass with his polished shoes, dressed in his usual stiff grey suit, which struck Tom as absurd here in the car park.

"What you doing here, Mr. Rook?" Tom called out.

Rook procured a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands, "One could ask of you the same question Thomas. I was not aware you were acquainted with the Gwedores."

"I am now. They know you were in there?"

"No, of course not. I am merely following up for our Irish division. There were reports the Gwedores had left their shores. I was confirming. Werewolves away from their home territory, and safe places for transformation are dangerous. We have begun monitoring the Gwedores, and Mr. O'Meara."

Tom stuffed his hands into his pockets. It appeared Rook was not aware of Begley, and he wasn't about to tell him. Something made Tom want to protect that knowledge if he could, though he wasn't quite sure why. Rook turned away to wipe the door handle with his handkerchief.

"You don't gotta."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, cuz I'm keeping an eye on them now meself. If they're still here come time I'll take em out to my woods. You don't need to worry yourself, specially with the bombs and all that."

Rook appeared momentarily taken aback, "You would assist us?"

"Well, sure. You helped Hal and us, didn't ya?"

Rook kept his stiff posture, his ice blue eyes locked onto Tom's. Tom met his examination with openness. There wasn't any indication in Rook's features that he had come to a conclusion when he stated, "Very well." He tucked the cloth back into a pocket. "That would be most… supportive."


Sharp and biting, the industrial contrast of a power saw broke through the quiet island morning. A turn of the bend revealed a modest-sized house, whitewashed and classic against the blue water and sandy shore beyond. There was a clatter of wood striking wood, and Hal slowed his approach. Thankfully, the wind was in their favour coming off the water and he caught a scent that confirmed they had arrived at the right place. Werewolf.

Assured, Hal beckoned for Alex to follow him around the side of the cottage. They traversed a little path, overgrown with moss-covered stepping stones and tall grasses. As they entered the back garden that faced the water, the piercing sound of an electric blade on a board broke the silence once more.

Alex observed an extremely fit, dark-haired man in work gloves who was leaning over, absorbed in the measurements he was taking. He was wearing a simple tee shirt which showed coiled muscles on a lithe frame, like a martial arts fighter, or a dancer. A wide cuff of leather wrapped around his left wrist, peeking clear of his work gloves, giving Alex the impression that her former assumption was accurate.

Behind him, the bare frame of a deck sat half built. Littering the ground were shavings and a few split boards. Easy stakes, close at hand. Alex wanted to reach for Hal, to stop him, but he had already continued a few steps ahead of her. He paused when a door opened, and another man, tall, fine-boned and beautifully handsome, strode outside with a glass carafe in hand. At this distance she couldn't tell which was the vampire and which the werewolf.

Hal had gone very still at the sight of this second man, frozen at the edge of the garden. Some slight shift of the breeze made the first fellow look up, his gentle eyes slitting into a threatening glare. He straightened, and the man carrying the carafe stopped walking and turned to see what had caught his companion's attention. His breath clearly caught as his eyes widened. The carafe he was holding crashed to the ground, contents spilling as the heavy glass rolled away with a spin.

The carpenter picked up one of the wooden boards, readying to brandish it as a weapon if need be, but his eyes flicked to his partner, who was still frozen. "Carl?" he asked with a cautionary tone.

But Carl had taken a hesitant step forward, gaze locked on Hal with a strangely haunted and disbelieving expression.

"Salut, Carl," Hal greeted softly, breaking the silent tension.

"But… you are... you died... decades ago." Carl's voice was just as soft, hesitant to shatter the moment.

"It didn't stick," Hal answered plainly.

The other vampire remained rooted, examining Hal from across the garden. When he did finally move, he crossed the span in only a few strides, sweeping Hal into a tight embrace. "God! This is -" Carl kissed Hal on either cheek in a very quick and familial fashion, then held him by the shoulders at arms length. "You're dry again. Oh sodding Hell - you staged it didn't you?" Carl hugged Hal again, and Alex stood back, flummoxed. To Alex's disbelief, Hal was actually returning this man's embrace, although guardedly.

"It is good to see you too," Hal smiled, relief evident in the way tension had left his shoulders. Breaking free, he held an arm out to Alex, "Carl, this is Alex."

Alex held her hand out as the werewolf set down his board and cautiously approached them with a dubious expression. Carl shook her hand enthusiastically and then raised an eyebrow. "You're a ghost."

"Yeah, I've pretty much noticed that by now."

"And Scottish! Sorry... its just, you're so... present."

"Er... thanks?"

Carl's companion came to stand next to him, expectantly. A fine flutter of panic crossed Carl's features, but then was gone. With increasing confidence, he made introductions. "This is Davi, my partner. Davi, this is Lord Henry Yorke."

Hal extended his hand disarmingly, "Just Hal."

At the introduction, Davi cocked his head curiously. "If you are the Hal I have heard of," he stated in a rich and melodic accent, "then I believe it is an honour." Not leaving space for denial, Davi accepted the handshake, then pulled Hal into a quick hug and a kiss on one cheek. Hal was somewhat flustered at the contact from this unknown werewolf, but hid it well. Davi retracted with warmth in his dark eyes.

"We didn't exactly announce our move…" Carl started warily. "Please excuse my concern, but I must ask how you found me."

"Familiar question," Hal answered with a mysterious hint of a smile. "It appears we have our Lazarus tendencies in common. I also thought you were dead. The discovery that you were not is a long story."

Carl shook his head, still in disbelief. "How could you even have known? No one has heard from you in what? Six decades?" Carl's expression quickened with reasoning. "Richard. He knew, didn't he?" Davi shot Carl a glance at the name. "Did Richard tell you we were here?"

"No. We've… fallen out of sorts lately."

"But, if Richard didn't send you, then who did?"

"Like I said, it is a long story. May I trouble you for some time to tell it this morning?"

"Certainly. We're more than curious. Davi thought we would be untraceable here."

"And for most, you probably are. We should sit down."

"Of course," Carl nodded. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Hal but flickered his gaze briefly to Davi. The werewolf caught the glance as he straightened from gathering the fallen carafe, and gave a small nod after the barest of pauses.

"Please, come inside."


"Tom!" Begley's voice rang down the lane as the boy launched into a run. Tom had just gotten the fire going and was warming up somewhat when the pack returned on foot. Maud and Conal were lost in a conversation which abruptly ended at Begley's announcement.

"Ello there!" Tom smiled as Begley stopped just short of running right into him. "Where were you guys?"

"Tom, hello. We didn't know you would be here so early," Maud greeted.

Begley tapped on his leg. "You're gonna come too, right?"

"Hey there now Beg, Tom might have other things to do," Irving shushed his brother.

"But he'd be perfect!"

"I believe Begley is trying to invite you to join us tonight Tom."

"We were just debating that now, weren't we?" Conal gave a sideways glance to Maud, seeking approval. She met her partner's glance with a sigh, then came to sit in the empty chair across from Tom.

"You see Tom," she started, placing her hands solemnly in her lap. "We weren't entirely honest with you. About why we're here."

Tom furrowed his brow and looked between Conal and Maud. Irving was doing the same with obvious surprise. Begley had turned away slightly from Tom, dropping his hands in his pockets and biting his lip with a guilty expression. Conal approached the child to place a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder before returning his gaze to Tom.

"Your loyalties lie more with the wolf than you realize. Which is why I believe you should be given the choice, despite the company you keep. Come with us tonight. As our guest."

"Come with you to what, exactly?" Tom's question hung in the air, unanswered. Foreboding travelled in a shiver up the back of his neck as Conal's weathered face cracked into a wry smile.

"Tonight is to be a Route, young master McNair. The first this land has seen in nigh o'er a century."


The interior of Carl & Davi's cottage was a rich burst of colour at odds with the plain, whitewashed facade. Fabrics, brightly woven with an South American flavour, accented every corner and even adorned one of the walls. The house was a modest size but modernly refinished. A stone-topped bar counter separated the living space from the kitchen and the old timber beams that spanned the ceiling made the spaces feel more expansive than they were. A polished piano, reflective black, perched near a bay window facing out to the sea.

"Can I offer you anything? Tea? We have Samovar Kusmi," Carl stepped into the kitchen and opened a cupboard. Without waiting for a response, he took down a silver teapot. "We were due for lunch after Davi finished this section. Please, make yourselves at home," he insisted.

"Yes, black please. Thank you," Hal acquiesced to Carl's hospitality while perusing a display of carved figurines. They ranged in size and shape but were all made from the same dark wood. The carvings guarded the bookshelf like proud soldiers.

"My most recent distraction. I took up the art in Brazil, after… well." Carl had been staring at Hal with an open fascination before he glanced to Alex, seemingly thinking better of what he may have said. He filled a heavy kettle with water and set it on the cooktop. "You were right. It really does help."

Alex came to to stand next to Hal, a hand naturally falling to his shoulder as she picked up one of the smallest figurines. An egret of some kind, in incredible detail. Even without looking, she could feel Carl's gaze, studying her.

"Do you still practice your letters?" he asked, renewing the conversation.

"A bit. The power is in learning something new however."

Alex hadn't ever seen Hal practice calligraphy, but she supposed he had, in the long span of his lifetime. She had only known him for a few months. He could be a Samurai or master painter for all she knew. Carl lit the burner, the blue flame flaring to life.

"I almost made it through three this time," his admission was familial, and honest. Alex wasn't quite certain what he meant. Three new skills? Three kettles?

"Thing is, I've been thinking of you this past year," Carl continued causing Hal to turn from the shelf abruptly and for Alex to dropped her hand from his shoulder. Carl's confession was surprisingly similar to Cutler's, which made him pause.

"I've never known loss like…" Carl started, then sighed, hands resting on the counter. Hal met his eyes, knowing what was coming and wishing he did not. "The monster takes so much. Even something you think you will never give. Something I thought was safe. You told me. You told me it would. I didn't quite believe you."

"It took someone close then?" Hal asked delicately. Carl's only response was to purse his lips, and nod once. "I am truly sorry," Hal's apology was sincere.

Carl… is one of the good ones, Alex recalled Hal's statement in her head and realized Carl must be like Hal, and Adam. Another dry vampire. No wonder Rook knew they were up here. His Department was watching out for the entire Hebridean Isles.

"But then I found Davi," Carl smiled warmly as the Brazilian joined him in the kitchen, freshly changed out of his sawdusted shirt into a clean one. Davi hooked an arm around Carl's waist and they leaned against each other. Both dark haired and of equal height, but so different. Carl was almost femininely slender whilst Davi had a lanky stockiness.

"Carl claims cupido stayed my arrow, but really I had been too ébrio to aim correct."

"He was drunk. And charming."

"We saved each other, não?"

The two exchanged a smile at their inside joke, in that way that new couples often do. The kettle coming to a boil with a hint of a whistle broke the moment. Carl returned to preparing their tea and Davi stepped around the counter to join them in the living room. He indicated that they should sit at the polished wood dining table.

"Carl enjoys to live dangerously - to be with a lobo who is also a carpenter."

"Did you make this?" Alex asked, taking a seat.

"That I did. It is jacarandá - rosewood, from my home. The most beautiful tree in all the world. Surely, a stunning woman such as you have seen it? The blossoms rain purple and carpet the hillside."

Alex smiled, also charmingly, "I've not the pleasure."

"Like I said, charming," Carl joined them, bearing a tea tray. Hal observed that Carl prepared their tea in the traditional fashion; warming the teapot with a rinse from the kettle, and measuring the leaves before steeping. It was ceremonious, and more properly prepared than Hal had enjoyed at another's hand in a long while. The tray, also made of a rich wood, held four cups and saucers. One of the cups was already bearing a strainer, ready for the pour. He appreciated the consideration given to Alex, albeit her ghostly inability to truly join them with tea.

After placing the tray onto the table, Carl pulled out the chair next to Davi, and opposite Hal. "So," he began. "We have much to discuss, but... Am I correct in sensing you've sought me out for a specific reason?"

Hal nodded, "Indeed. It is wonderful to see you. However," he paused. He hadn't known how Carl would react to his visit, so had prepared several angles of approach. But now, given the immediate honesty of their conversation, Hal was electing to play it straight. He just didn't quite know where to begin.

"He sent you, didn't he?" Carl asked bluntly.

"Who?" Momentarily, Hal wondered if Carl could somehow already know about Rook's department. That certainly would save time.

"Your Mister Snow," Davi answered. "Because of me. We were so careful, but -"

"Creepy got ka-boomed. When will this be old news?" Alex spoke bluntly and Hal inwardly groaned at her penchant for tactlessness. Both Carl and Davi's expressions had turned confused. Hal cleared his throat and returned his gaze to Carl.

"Fifty-five years ago, I staged my death to defect, and have been in hiding ever since. Alex is speaking truth. Snow was killed, along with nearly all of the Old Ones, several months ago."

The silence spread out from Hal's statement across the table, until Carl broke it by reaching to pour the tea. "You better start from the beginning."

For the second time in as many days, Hal and Alex recounted their tale. At the end, Hal finished his tea, then admitted, "Part of your concern is correct. I was sent to speak with Davi. We need to know what is happening. We need to know how to stop it."

Davi had been silent through the whole tale; listening and accepting their story as fact without raising a single question. With fingers delicately resting on his teacup, he shook his head and spoke with reluctance. "This thing… there is no stopping it."

"Then at least tell us what you know. There must be someone we could talk to - someone who is responsible?"

"The responsibility was next to be mine," Davi huffed in irony. "The leader is my father."

Hal tilted his head in quizzical surprise. "You were born a werewolf?"

"I was born to a werewolf. In our culture, that may as well have been the same thing."

At Hal's questioning look, Davi's fingers went to the leather cuff at his wrist. Undoing the clasp, he let the leather band fall to the table, then overturned his hand. Two twin lines of scarification, an inch apart, marked the back of Davi's wrist just above the round protrusion of bone.

"Wolf begets wolf, Mr. Yorke."

Seeing the precision of the two lines, there was no doubt in Hal's mind, "They're spreading it on purpose. How long have they been doing this?"

"As long as my memory serves. Those born into the Pack, are born to the Pack. Same as those who stray where they should not. How else did you expect we would have remained hidden for so long?"

"Wait a sec - you took the curse on purpose?" Alex asked, her tone betraying her disbelief.

"Tradition. Custom. My people are a tribe," Davi answered. "Becoming the wolf is a passage of age."

"You were just a kid…" Alex whispered, aghast at the thought. "But why?"

"Strength is something grown. By the time a Lobisomem reaches maturity, the wolf is already seasoned." Davi returned his gaze to Hal. "You know of what I mean."

"Your actions when turned. You remember them." Hal stated. When Alex's confusion didn't clear he added, "They're all akin to Tom. They've embraced their curse."

"Yes. Yes, they have." Davi was final in his tone. "Once begun…" he shook his head and Carl placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. "I cannot believe it. The Pack, it will be growing more so. Somewhere soon, they will gather. It is best to stay here, safe. Call your friends. Have them join you."

"We can't all move to the Hebrides!" Hal sputtered.

"Why not? You are peaceful. Best to stay that way. Your men in grey will not be able to save you."

"The wish of your Pack is to expose us all?" Hal asked, still not quite believing what Davi was telling him.

"No! Of course not."

"Then what?"

Davi met Hal's gaze across the rosewood table. His pause was long and calculated before he answered. "Simple, senhor Yorke. The aim of my people is for vampire annihilation."

The words hung heavy. Alex wanted to laugh - to joke - anything to break the stretched silence, but Hal's whisper broke it for her. "They mean war."

"War, when well-timed will bring about a genocide."

Hal shook his head decisively. "Not possible. Not even if all of Joanópolis were turned."

"Ah!" Davi slapped his fingertips against the table edge percussively. "So you do know of my people."

Too late Hal realized he had given something away inadvertently. Carl was looking between Davi and Hal with a building concern. Hal clenched his jaw but reigned himself. Honesty began this, and honesty would end it. "I do. Your tribe is legendary. The Lobisomem were the only Pack that Snow struck Accords with."

"Amnesty. If we remained desaparecido."

"Yet here you are," Hal taunted.

"And here you are."

"Davi -" Carl cautioned his partner. "Hal is not our enemy."

"But Hal was, once. Was he not?" Davi posed the question to Carl, almost as if testing to see if his partner truly knew the dark recesses of his friend's past.

"It was a long time ago," Hal answered and Davi's dark gaze whipped back to him.

"Our legends tell of a Lordly Englishman. Of a great battle brought to us. Of systematic slaughter the on moon-weary mornings. Those kinds of legends run deep. It was not so long ago for one such as you."

At what Davi was insinuating, Alex's stomach turned. Killing for blood - for an addiction - well, that was one thing. Addiction was something she understood. But a systematic slaughter? She couldn't even fathom that her Hal could have been a part of such a thing. Her Hal, who gave neither argument nor denial of Davi's accusation. "Is that what this is then? Revenge? How long have you been planning this?"

"Myself? Hah. No, I have been planning nothing. I am tired of hatred. Tired of death."

"Then... why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I am in love with Carl." Davi took his partner's hand in his to emphasize his point. "You are a part of his strength, and I have a deep respect for that strength," he stated, interlocking his fingers with Carl, who was watching Hal with apprehension. "I would warn you, same as he. Implore if you are good, then to keep that goodness. Not all vampires are the same, nor remain as same across time. But the memory of a people? They've hardened. Crystallized into embers waiting to spark at the smallest provocation."

"What?" Hal implored, shaking his head. "What has happened to set this off?"

"Long ago, we agreed to disappear. To retreat into our mountains, as we have done. But recently, someone wished to expose us. All lobisomem. Leave Wales, Mister Yorke. That is where it began, thus that is where they will start the revolution."


*bump is Scottish slang for stealing

**Although I've been fortunate enough to travel to several strange northern isles, I've not yet been to the Hebrides. Throughout the last few chapters I relied on "the Google" to help inspire some of the scenery. Some spectacular photos of the drive cross Isle of Hearadh are available on the "Virtual Hebrides" website. Click on "Road to Huisinis" if interested.