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.

Your reviews, comments and notes make my day, every time.


As if her sight is adjusting to the dimly lit room, Alex begins to make out the ragged form of a dark-skinned man. He's chained to the wall, dirt-smeared and barefoot. There's a musky sharpness to the stifled, cellar air. The whites of his eyes flash and they both pause, listening to the sudden approaching sound of footsteps descending metal stairs. The sound, a staccato beacon, draws Alex into the moment as Hal gauges the distance. Gauges the time they have left.

"Here it comes…"

Hal stares intently at the captive man, then swallows.

"Hit me," he says, stepping in close and dropping to eye level.

The captive's face widens into a shining grin. "With pleasure," he replies before he cracks Hal square in the face with a smack.

The blow still comes as a surprise, even though he had asked for it. Hal whirls with the force, landing to catch himself on the overturned pallet box, and drops the sherry. This close to the change the wolf is strong. Which is why two or more guards, laughing casually with some amusement, were on their way down right now to relocate their wolf to the ring.

Hal shakes his head in an attempt to clear the pain, then picks up the pallet. As he stands, he lets out a roar, smashing the box against the wall next to the werewolf's head. The approaching footsteps suddenly increase in urgency.

He drops the splintered box, pulling free a cracked board. It's rough, but it will have to do. "Grab me," Hal hisses, dropping the plank to hold it hidden in front of his torso.

The shackles that bind him shake musically as the werewolf obliges. He captures the loose ends of Hal's tie and his hand wraps around Hal's throat just as the guards come into view.

"Lord Harry!" one shouts, charging swiftly into the cell to prove his worth and come to the rescue. For one long moment, Hal believes the wolf enjoys this too much and won't let go. The light reflected in his dark eyes change with the oncoming approach. Leo loosens his grip just as the first vampire is about to reach them. Hal whirls, plunging the unexpected stake through the youth's chest.

"Sorry," he says as he wrenches the wood free and turns. The second vampire looks briefly confused as his friend freezes and starts to crack. The slight pause is all Hal needs.

"There was no other way for Leo to escape, I'm afraid," he concludes his apology.

The second guard shatters into dust a mere two seconds after the first. Without wasting a breath of time, Hal immediately removes his braces, and then un-tucks his shirt, cocking his head to listen for more approaching. They knew "Lord Harry" was already down here with their wolf. The corridor above is silent.

"What are you doing? Free me!" Leo demands, with a small hint of desperation. He pulls against his bonds.

"This will buy all the time we need," Hal answers, glancing around the room. It isn't as if he hasn't already thought through this exact scenario. It isn't as if this outcome hadn't already teased the edges of his mind for months. He knows precisely what he is doing, unsavoury as it is. He stands next to one of the ashen piles, dust still rising through the air, and without unlacing, he struggles and steps clear of his shoes. Bending forward, he cups a small handful of ash and lets it sift through his fingers to spatter the leather with white.

"Ah," the werewolf says with realisation.

Hal glances at the wolf as he straightens, briefly irritated that the beast dares to look on, but there isn't time for reticence. He unhooks the metal clasp on his dress trousers and lets them fall. Keeping the buttons intact, he shrugs free of his shirt, then sinks to his haunches to place it on top of the trousers. Reaching for the slumped pile of ashy clothes he cups the fabric, then carefully tilts it. The ash clouds over the stark white of his discarded dress shirt. He adjusts the fabric, moving the braces with a critical eye, then stands. With a grimace of distaste, he shakes more dust out of the guard's garments before swiftly putting them on, thankful he's still drunk enough for this. After fishing through the pockets, he extracts a single key with a shaky breath. He holds it, a distant offering, between thumb and forefinger as he meets the eyes of this man who would claim to be his guide.

They hold each other's gaze until Leo extends his arms, exposing the heavy locks on the shackles. "Our time is swiftly waning," he whispers. Hal remains poised, for one heartbeat, two. Despite his actions, the threshold was not yet crossed. This could still be undone.

"There are tunnels here, passageways. I can guide you to a place they will not be able to follow, but we must be swift," Hal says as he slides the key into the lock and turns. The shackle snaps open and drops. Hurriedly, he continues with the other.

Leo rubs his freed wrists. "We have only moments before I will kill you," he states the fact they both know.

"And then your life will certainly be forfeit. If I fail in achieving your containment, you will be trapped. So," Hal says, stooping to pick up the guard's fallen boots.

"How fast can you run?"

Alex shook herself loose and broke from the dream. Of all the memories she could have dropped into. She knew where that story led. She felt confusion weave through her barely suppressed anger. That was the beginning. The beginning of the man she had come to love. And she had just dropped right into it. More so than before, she had been him. She could feel his hope just under the surface. Smell the pungency of unwashed werewolf and feel the slick powder of ash in her clothes. That was the beginning of her Hal; the beginning of the version of him she knew.

Everything Hal had done before hadn't suddenly turned off or gone away because he made a choice. But it did change everything going forward. And for Leo, who would have died that day had Hal not chosen to free him. "This is the moment Hal. What you do now will change everything." Leo's voice clung to her consciousness like honey. It was a sweet sentiment. How much did he really change though? So much of what he had done, who he had been before was beyond monstrously terrible. It was the very fabric of nightmares.

She had witnessed him raving mad - tied to a chair for weeks lest he return to that man, the murderer he once was. Strapped down to a chair, because until the last of his bloodlust addiction had settled, that was all he wanted. To be set free. To rampage.

Her Hal.

She had gone through the motions then - helping to care for him, barely believing Tom's determination. But had she been stuck already, all along? And, he had known? Even then, he knew so much more about her condition than he had let on. He had lied to her.

She watched him for a long time, running through what she knew, and what she didn't. She listened to the quiet creak of the house and watched his unchanging, deceptively beautiful face. For a small, painful moment, as she felt him begin to wake, she thought about leaving; to rent-a-ghost herself as far away as imaginable and to never come back.

But she didn't. She stayed. As heart-hurt and angry as she was with Hal, there was too much between them to walk away now. Tom and Allison had become like family and she couldn't imagine leaving without a farewell. And… there were too many questions she needed answers to. She just hoped he'd answer her honestly. For both their sakes.

When he slowly returned to consciousness, the light was too bright. And Alex, looking right at him, was too close.

"Hi there," she said, far too loudly with her face next to his on the pillow. He felt as if he'd been to a jubilee and forgot to stop. He hurt.

Hal groaned and winced his eyes shut. "What happened?"

"What do you think?" Alex answered his question with a sarcastic one. He opened one eye to see she was still close, and looking none too pleased. He swallowed. As if running into Hetty wasn't bad enough. For not the first time, he regretted that he didn't end his fellow Old One while he'd had the chance. And given their situation, he doubted it would be the last.

Alex's expression turned dark when he didn't answer, and she sat up a little. "You know damn well what she wanted! How could you have kept something like that from me?"

"To keep you safe," he whispered, tried to sit up and thought better of it. "The less you knew - anyone knew -"

"Why hurt me if you didn't have to, is that it?" she spat. Alex was livid. Hal winced again but she was still staring at him, still holding him to that temper of hers. "You said the Old Ones didn't know how it happens."

"We don't."

"Then how did we fucking happen?"

"I don't know!" he shouted in abrupt frustration. She held her stern expression and he took a steadying breath. His stomach was unsettled and not just from Hetty's tea. "Snow was always on the hunt for unusually strong ghosts. Then, he had us doing so as well. This - us? A Hangori bonding with an Old One hasn't ever happened before. Never."

"So? I still fail to see why you chose not to tell me."

"I thought I could protect you. I thought you would be safe if you didn't know. If no one knew. We had just blown up nearly everyone on the planet who did."

"Not nearly everyone enough!" she muttered with a huff. "So what happens to them, huh?" She didn't have to clarify who she meant, but she did so regardless when he hesitated to answer. "What happens to the Hangori?"

"They fade," Hal uttered with soft admittance, the very words catching in his throat. "They are drained, and they fade."

She closed her eyes, her mouth hardening. "Well isn't that just wonderful." Fire flashed when she opened her eyes. "Is there anything else I should know? Oh wait - I've already asked you that!"

"Alex -"

"You -" she started then shook her head. "You've killed people and drained souls and God knows what else you've done. And I'm bound to you! I've lost a part of myself, and obviously that wasn't bad enough, because now I find out that I'm the dead bloody key to making more fecking super vampires? Great! Just flipping fantastic."

"Do you think I'm proud? I abhor the thought that you could be in danger. As if your death wasn't bad enough! There aren't words to express how much that is not what I want!"

"No, maybe not," Alex skeptically admitted. "But it's what your friend wants, isn't it."

Hal exhaled deeply and sat up. Alex was incredibly, annoyingly astute when she wanted to be. "Yes," he ran his hand through his hair, then pushed off the bed. "Richard has been looking for a back door to Old One status ever since Snow denied him."

"And you were going to give it to him?"

"I said I would help him. If he helped me stay hidden. Long before we happened, I told him what to look for."

"Oh Jesus," Alex whispered. Something flashed briefly in her expression - another layer of understanding peeled back. He turned away. Shrugged off his jacket and stared down at his socks. His shoes had been left behind. "Oh bloody hell," Alex cursed and dropped her head into her hands. "And here I thought he just had the horn on," she gave a pitiable laugh. Hal set his jacket down at the foot of the bed and started to go to her, but stopped.

She looked up at him then, her face all anguish with her fury gone. "We're well and truly fucked, aren't we?"

He shook his head, but didn't answer her. He couldn't answer her. She remained silent for a time, giving him a reprieve from her onslaught until she sighed, her anger breaking into a determined sadness. From where she sat on his bed she gestured for him. He took a tentative step towards her. "We need to talk about this," she said as she reached for his hand. He didn't reply, just rubbed his thumb over hers.

"What if I don't want this anymore? Are we stuck?" she asked and he swallowed, his jaw clenching. He closed his eyes with a focused exhale, the let go of her hand. Her question made sense in light of everything, but it cut deeply, nonetheless. She'd be a fool to stay, knowing the demons you keep. The thought taunted him.

"Nothing has changed Alex. It has been this way since the beginning."

"Except now I know about it!"

"Then take it back," he kept his voice plain, detached.

"How? How do I do that?"

"I honestly don't know."

Alex looked away, staring into the blobbed patterning of the wallpaper. "And what if I get my Door?"

"Then... you get your Door."

"And if before then, some power-crazed vampire comes after me? If Richard -"

He grasped her shoulders, halting her words as he leveled her with a hard stare. "I won't allow Richard - or anyone - to hurt you. I won't allow it." He was vehement and hoped she believed him. "You are already stronger than you realise. You can stop anyone who would threaten you. Even me."

She met his eyes, hers strained with a harrowed realisation. "And there it is. You really can hurt me. And you knew. This entire time you knew."

"Alex, no," he shook his head. "This hasn't -"

"Save it," she swallowed. When he started again an attempt to explain, her eyes clenched shut, then she abruptly disappeared, right out of his reach.

He stood there, facing the empty space that she had left behind. He stood there, held fast as a terrible numbness seeped in; that familiar calm before the storm. She didn't know that it was so much worse than that. She couldn't know. He stood there numbly still as he heard Allison's car pull up and park.

Their housemates' steps, hurried and hushed up the walk, finally unrooted him. He couldn't possibly deal with anything else. The lightning-flash desire to drown out every shred of emotion hit him savagely hard. To wash it all away in a thick haze of red. But he would not. He could not.

Hal turned and shut his door.


Tom pulled away from snogging Allison, their hands under each other's disarrayed clothing. They both looked sheepishly startled when Alex cleared her throat from the bar. Allison snatched her glasses back from Tom and tugged down her shirt, a smile still playing at her lips. Tom however, cocked his head at Alex and narrowed his eyes. There was a static charge to the air, palpable, and it was coming from Alex.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Tom sniffed, as if he could detect the answer already. "Where's Hal?"

"Hetty happened. Hal's what's wrong. He's upstairs," she answered each of Tom's questions in turn and his eyes widened.

"Oh no. He didn't drink - " Tom started but Alex shook her head.

"Poisoned. Hetty seemed to think it was funny," Alex said, whisking a bottle of liquor from the shelf overhead.

"Hetty poisoned him? Wait, back up," Allison said, righting her spectacles.

"We were at Richard's house and didn't know she would be there," Alex shrugged, as if that explained it. "He's fine now, but we've got a problem."

"Not something else?" Tom almost whined.

"He won't be staying that way if I don't get out of here. I'll catch you later."

Alex disappeared, leaving the disarrayed werewolves to their bewilderment.


Hal threw open the window, breathing deeply the rush of cold, fresh air. There was a hint of a neighbor on the breeze however, so he shut it. Then drew the blinds for good measure. Press-ups? No. Situps? No, already done.

Hal paced, his unease apparent. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew he couldn't appease it with anything - or anyone - in this house. He ran his hands through his hair, then picked up his box of dominoes from the side table. In one reckless burst of impulsive energy, he threw the box to crash against the mantle, pieces spraying in a terrible clatter of white onto the floor.

Hal dropped to his knees, at once sickened and elated with the flash of tantrum. He started picking up the pieces, ordering them in a line from beginning to end, flat on the carpet.

He didn't answer when Tom knocked. He didn't answer as his friend stood there for several moments, obviously debating whether to come in or not.

End to end, piece to piece, moment to moment. He could see it all - the span and spiral of history and all the points of intersection. This was why he tried to keep from thinking too much. This was why he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

As Tom shuffled away, Hal exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He remained kneeling on the floor and with a deep breath, he picked up the first domino. After aligning all of the steadying pieces of ivory, start to finish and back again, he began to put them away. Each was stacked carefully back into order in the now-chipped box. He would repair it. He recalled seeing a bottle of wood glue downstairs. A cup of tea, and then his regime. He would not leave. He would not.

An electric ping rang false and bright from the mantle, causing Hal's attention to whip to where Alex's mobile still sat. He stood, setting the box down next to the illuminated device. A framed bubble of text had appeared, centered on the screen.

Good news. Well placed words travel fast. London now rumours the fight has relocated.

- DR

The screen darkened and the message disappeared. Hal left it where it lay, took another steadying breath, then stepped forward to open his door. The corridor was empty and he could hear the shower running, which was a relief. Maybe he could brew his desired tea without interruption.

Downstairs, the lights were all on. One by one, he turned them each off. The darkness felt more comfortable to his recovering senses. He readied water for tea and stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing through the dimly ambient light. A small creak of flooring, a slight brush of fabric alerted him to Tom's watching presence from the doorway. Over time, his friend had softened his boorish ways. He had come to learn how to quiet his approach in the house.

"You alright mate? Alex told us what happened." Tom asked from the door and Hal just shook his head, turning to face his friend.

"I'll be fine Tom," he answered wearily, then glanced at his watch. He really did not wish to have to explain any of the evening's events just yet. He was still working through the implications himself. "What are you doing up?" he tried.

"My best mate was poisoned, then apparently got in a fight with his girl. I'm worried 'bout you."

"Vampire. All better," Hal answered sarcastically.

"You're not though. What's on with you and Alex?"

"She…" Hal started, but his voice died in his throat. She hated him. Which was precisely appropriate. The slow build of the kettle trilled a hint of a whistle and he turned it off.

"You can talk to me Hal. Really," Tom prodded softly.

"Christ, I don't even know where to start." He sighed a deep breath, then poured the hot water into a teapot.

"Why's she so upset? She wouldn't say, then she took the gin and disappeared. And not being able to drink and all..."

"She found out something that I'd rather she did not," Hal admitted. Maybe he should just talk with Tom. His friend could be in danger because of this too. Better to tell him now rather than too late.

"About your past?"

"There's that. And, there's something else. Hetty attacked me to get to her."

Tom's brow creased and he tilted his head questionably. "But… Hetty can't hurt her… right?"

"This bond between us…" Hal started, then took a deep breath. "I'm afraid it puts Alex in jeopardy."

"How so?"

Hal didn't answer at first, but brought the teapot and two mugs to the table. He took a seat. Tom grabbed a packet of crisps and sat down across from him. The foil crinkled loudly, breaking the quiet and Tom popped a crisp in his mouth, waiting for Hal to answer. Hal poured them both a cup of tea, sliding one across the table to Tom.

"You knew more about it than you let on, yeah?" Tom prodded.

"Somewhat. This hasn't ever happened with an Old One."

"Why not?" Tom crunched another crisp, casually.

"A Hangori is rarely ever formed at all. There were only a few each century, that I knew of," Hal said, then sipped his tea before looking up. Tom's expression was open, patient. He knew he could trust Tom, and there was no longer really a point to keeping it from him. "It is the secret of the Old Ones, blood-oath sworn to never speak of. It was Snow's power, his way to forge undying loyalty."

"By making Hangori?" Tom queried, honestly curious.

"By cultivating them." Hal made the statement, then sighed. "Draining a Hangori is how the Old Ones are made. Along with the Hangori's host, and the blood of the Eldest."

"Oh." Tom was dumbstruck. He sat silent, mouth agape while he thought through the implications. "So vampires will come after Alex. And you."

"Vampires don't know. It has truly been kept a secret. One that nearly died out along with Snow."

"But you knew. And… that Hetty knows, don't she?"

"Unfortunately so does Richard. I never told him directly, however I gave enough hints. He knows that he needs a Hangori at least."

"Crikey. I bet Alex is right hacked with you. No wonder she split with the gin."

"You could say that, yes." Hal closed his eyes, feeling the far-off tug of her. Not only had she rent-a-ghosted out of the house, but she was no longer even in Barry.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Tom asked.

"I thought I could protect her. The less anyone knew of it, the better. But then Richard, he knew straight away what she was."

"Eh, good thing Rook's got him then, yeah?"

"And I doubt he told Hetty where we are. Richard would have wanted to keep it to himself until the most profitable moment. I wouldn't give her long before she figures it out though."

Tom looked thoughtfully into his cup before taking a drink. "So, Hetty's old yeah?" He asked after finishing all of his tea. "How well did'ya know her?"

"We were akin to… flatmates once," Hal shrugged.

"Flatmates? How's that?" Tom cocked his head, questioning.

"You may have noticed that she is at a certain disadvantage."

"Er, yeah," Tom looked uncomfortable with the thought.

"Snow charged me with her. And then she burned down my house."

"Gah! And you didn't kill her?" Tom asked, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Not that I'm condoning such activity and all."

"Couldn't. I wouldn't have dared at the time."

"What? Why not? It's not like you couldn't take her."

"I'd have been killed for it in turn," Hal shrugged. "Snow was quite particular."

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you join up with him?"

Hal furrowed his brow at the unexpected question. "Ambition. Power. There were several reasons. The fine print of what I was getting into wasn't immediately apparent."

"You can't take it back none?"

"No," Hal shook his head. The very act of becoming an Old One crossed a line, as Alex had so astutely surmised. "At that point I had already determined my soul was tarnished beyond salvation. None of it mattered anymore."

"Would you again? Knowing what you know now?" Tom seemed merely curious, but the question was one that had plagued Hal for the past fifty five years. Leo had asked him a very similar question, once.

"Damned is damned, Tom."

Tom leaned his head into his hand and regarded him with a thoughtful expression, but he didn't say or ask anything further. Hal finished his tea, then set the cup down.

"In better news it appears part of our trip to London has proven effective. We will hopefully not see as many vampires turn up here," he stated.

"But the werewolves can't know that," Tom shook his head.

"No, they must not. It seems they would want to take the fight to the vampires if vampires won't come to them."

"So we need to act as if their war is still coming. At least until Mr. Rook finds whoever's behind it and all."

"How is that going by the way?" Hal asked with a raised eyebrow.

At the question, Tom turned sheepish. "Er, well… fine I s'pose. But most of 'em, they haven't ever even met a vampire before..."

"Have you been able to gather any further as to why they have come?"

"Some want revenge, those who have met vampires. But most it seems were just curious to meet up with others like 'emselves…"

Hal tilted his head and regarded Tom, sensing his friend was suspiciously working up to something unpleasant. "There's something else though."

Tom scratched his head then ran his hand down over his scars. "Yeah, well. You see… I somewhat-of told Milo that you were helping."

"With the vampires?" Hal narrowed his eyes.

"No, not like that. Well, almost. But I covered it up by saying you were going to come help train folk."

Hal's narrowed eyes winced closed, then he sighed. Tom quickly tried to elaborate, taking on a more rehearsed tone. "You was one of the wise men. I look up to ya and that."

"I was what?" he snapped his eyes back open.

"When Annie thought she had the Saviour, well I told her it wasn't likely. Not like three wise men following a star would come round. But then you did."

"You think I'm wise," Hal huffed.

"Well yeah, sure," he shrugged, as if it were a given thing.

"I don't know about that, Tom."

"Naw you're brilliant. You're just too reserved all o'the time to let yourself be. I bet you that you got to be an Old One because you wanted it. You're dead clever."

Hal shook his head with the start of exasperation. "What is your point Tom?"

"How do you think that Rook is going to keep two dozen werewolves quiet?"

"Well, there is one obvious way," Hal answered. He tapped his fingertips against the ceramic mug lightly, then met Tom's eyes.

"Exactly. But is there another?"

"There is always another way."

"See? Dead brilliant," Tom confirmed. "You said you wanted to help. That you owed it to werewolves. So, here's a way you can help. Come talk with them. Then, you can help convince Rook not to kill them. They're good people Hal."

"I'm certain they are. I'm also certain they won't wish to hear from me."

"Naw. You're on our side. It's time they know it."


Plans had changed.

The message was clear, even though it was already buried deep in the online chat forum that disguised their clandestine communications.

Plans had changed, but plans weren't to change. They were to proceed at the Pleasure Park per instructed, despite the rumours rippling through the London vampire community.

Suitable expendable personnel would be provided, enough to keep the ruse.

He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and checked his watch. His contact was due to meet him any moment for their last face to face until game day.

He wouldn't be able to break away again.

In the woods, he paced.