Disclaimer: I own nothing. Incredibly thankful beyond words for the world that Toby Whithouse has created and for the character of Hal that Damien Molony has brought to life. All mistakes are my own.

Thank you TJ4EV for proofing on such short notice. I just didn't want to delay any longer.

Feedback = Love. Thanks for everyone that has given me encouragement and for continuing to read this. xx

Ch. 15 Screams and Tremors

Federico is led down a corridor opposite the one he'd been brought into earlier in the day, two vampires flanking him, their clammy fingers digging into his biceps. He uses the sway of their combined movement as a mask for the subtle shifting of his hands and wrists that is allowing gravity to help slide the manacles from his hands. He bites the insides of his cheeks to keep from crying out in pain as he uses one barely functioning hand to squeeze the other, broken bones grinding together as he works his hands through the metal loops.

As he passes one door on his left he stops, stiffening, but his guards push him forward. His eyes linger on the the door until he has to focus them forward again. He is certain he caught a familiar scent. Hal. It's masked under the strong scent of blood, but unmistakable. He doesn't posses the skill to distinguish anything in particular in the blood, but he can hear a faint heartbeat and a female voice humming soothingly, as a mother does to a child. Are Sylvie and Hal behind that door? Juntos? Why is there so much fresh blood? He has no means to find out, but hopes that if they are, they will still be there in the morning, Sylvie alive and Hal... still Hal.

The corridor ends at a room full of vampires sitting on benches surrounding a metal cage. It mirrors the facilities he'd been held in over a decade prior so well that for one moment he is transported back, feelings of powerlessness and desperation hitting him hard. But then he shakes them off and as he's led through the opening in the crowd towards the cage in the centre, his gaze sweeps around the room and he takes a quick count. Close to twenty vampires are in attendance, their eyes all on him, eager to see what entertainment he will provide for them. Muy bien. In the cage he sees a man, human, trembling, with a knife already in his hands. The standard setup; these vampires really like to stick with their routines.

Federico smiles, feeling the nervous energy that is building up inside him as they approach the cage. The wolf is itching to come out. It will be only a matter of seconds now.

Timing is critical, but no signal is required beyond the pull of the mist-shrouded moon, unseen, rising beyond the buildings. As the first tremors of transformation wrack through them, three groups materialize out of the shadows and approach the entrances to the London vampire headquarters.

Naked and trembling, they uncork flasks and pour blood over themselves before throwing the empty flasks at the surprised guards. The vampires duck to avoid the flasks easily, then move to attack, but their reactions come too late, their attempts to stop the men thwarted as fists come in contact with flesh slick with werewolf blood. When they open their mouths to scream as the toxic liquid burns their hands, vials of more toxic blood are shoved into their mouths, rendering them to ash.

Once inside the werewolves bar the exits.

Jacob stands at the back at the room, overseeing the gathering, watching as the entertainment is brought out. He keeps a brittle smile on his face but inside he seethes at the fact that Hal is still pathetically resisting. Jacob had been required to offer apologies on behalf of the guest of honour, who had been... delayed.

A sudden sound from upstairs at the front of the building startles him and he turns away from the werewolf about to be shoved into the cage. Latecomers? No. All invitations had been answered; two of their number were out of the city but the rest had arrived already. Jacob frowns and moves up the stairs to investigate. As he reaches the top step he stops abruptly at the sound of a pain-filled cry.

And then he tenses as he hears screams in the room behind him.

As the guards holding him stop in front of the cage and one takes his hands away to swing open the door, Federico shifts all his weight and pushes on the other guard as he simultaneously lets the manacles drop.

The unprepared guard goes down. Federico reels as the first ripples of the transformation start to go through him. Not allowing himself to surrender to the pain, he turns to punch at the other guard, his mostly broken hands still carrying enough force to cause the guard to stagger back. The vampires nearest him gasp and start crying out. As a couple of them stand and move towards him, he reaches into the cage, plucks the blade from the startled human's hands and then turns back as he slices one of his wrists. He shakes his hand violently from side to side so that his blood sprays at the oncoming vampires and those sitting near. As their flesh begins to burn and they cry out in pain, Federico doubles over and lets out a scream of his own as bones break and organs begin displacing.

The wolf starts tearing out of his skin.

Jacob remains frozen, looking through the doorway into his office as he sees three bloody men staggering in through the opposite door. They are a hideous sight to behold: claws emerging, eyes changing to a glowing yellow, tufts of fur sprouting out in patches, mouths elongating into snouts, bodies contorting grotesquely as bones ripple and shift under their skin. The sounds of snapping bones and shifting joints is drowned out by their screams. Jacob hears echoes down in the room behind him and even further away. Too many screams mingling, joining into a cacophony of continual noise punctuated by higher agonized cries. Too many to be just his captives.

Shit. Jacob backs down the stairs and runs.

Screams pierce suddenly through the gloom, shattering the bubble of peace she'd managed to create for him with her voice and touch. Sylvie's hand stills, her soft singing cuts off abruptly. Hal starts, leaps up and moves to the other side of their cell once more, watching the door, expecting... he is uncertain what he's expecting. The screams continue to echo from multiple directions, screams of pain that are suddenly joined by screams of panic. Hal is sure Sylvie cannot hear everything he can, but when he looks over to her he sees she is huddled with her arms covering her head.

He tries to soothe her, "Sylvie, the werewolves... whatever happens Federico assured me you would be safe."

She takes her arms away but doesn't look assured. They stare at each other; she jumps and winces at each scream, he tenses. Hal can hear the sounds of a crowd of people trying to get out, and almost a dozen screams of agony that already are beginning to sound more guttural, more animal-like.

"In a few moments those screams will turn to howls. But you mustn't be afraid, they can't get in here. And if they could, they would recognize you as a human and leave you be."

Hal looks away, towards the door, his nerves singing and his muscles taut with anticipation as he hears fleeing vampires make their way past. But further down he hears the first howl. Then a second and third from the opposite direction. Soon the air is full of howls and screams coming simultaneously from all directions.

Everything sounds as if it is going according to plan.

Suddenly the door swings open so hard it hits the wall and bounces. From the doorway Jacob screams, "WHAT DID YOU DO HAL?" Then he hisses, clearly manifesting as he makes to enter the room.

Before he can come in Hal runs at him, grabs him by the throat and continues until they hit the wall across the hall. He pins Jacob to the wall with his right hand while reaching up to grab the torch from the sconce with his left. He thrusts the torch into Jacob's face, baring his fangs and letting his eyes burn black with the all the pent up hunger and rage inside him. He spits out, "I said that the next time I laid eyes on you, you would be turned to dust. I will kill you -"

Jacob's eyes clear and go wide, but he keeps his fangs out as he interrupts levely, if a bit strangled, "But if you kill me Hal, how will you get her out of here? Only I can give you the key to free her."

Hal clenches his jaw, seething. Finally he blinks and takes a calming breath as he lets go of the rage and suppresses the monster. Jacob is right, he needs to think about more than just revenge. He can hear the sounds of battle up the hallway; panicked screams cut off abruptly as guttural growls win over. The screams now replaced by snapping bones and snuffling. The wolves are feeding. He turns his head left for a quick assessment in the other direction and sees a melee of fur and limbs in the cage room, but no one else has made it into the hallway. He focuses back on Jacob, sheaths his fangs and demands through gritted teeth, "Give me the key now or so help me I will drive this torch, fire and all, through your heart!"

Jacob looks down at the fire and wood mere inches from his chest then back up at Hal. He puts away his fangs and pleads, "I'll need some assurances that once I give you the key you will not drive that through me in any case. If you would kindly let go of me I give you my word I will hand over the key."

Hal clenches his jaw considering. Then he loosens his grip and swings the torch away to the side. "Give me the key." He demands again, putting his palm up. He still has Jacob effectively pinned by his proximity and the torch still at the ready. Jacob frowns and purses his lips, but he slowly moves his hand to pull a string from his collar. Attached is a key.

Hal grabs it and yanks the string hard, snapping it off. "Is this the master?"

Jacob nods in agreement.

Hal pockets it and brings the torch back up. "Please tell me you took to heart one of my basic tenants: always have a secret way out. Besides the three I know about, do you have another exit?"

"Why should I tell you anything Hal. You will not let me live regardless. You know I'll be going directly to Mr. Snow to tell him about your involvement in this!"

"Snow will be furious with you for letting this happen. You cannot afford to put the blame at my feet, to gamble what you think you know in hopes that he will forgive you for letting this post fall and all these assets die. You are not that stupid."

Jacob opens his mouth but before he can answer they are interrupted by a deep growl to Hal's left. Both vampires turn to see a werewolf standing approximately 30 paces away, sniffing at them. Hal swings the torch between himself and the wolf, getting into a defensive stance. Jacob begins edging backwards.

The wolf seems to be hesitating, and Hal wonders if it is merely wary of the the fire or if it is Federico, if his... friend... somehow recognizes him. Keeping careful watch, Hal reaches back to grab Jacob by the collar and pull him forward. He shoots a quick glare at his former colleague. "Tell me how to get out of here! If you do... you can come with us. You can reform. We can help you stop drinking blood so that you may start fresh. I know you Jacob. You do what you must, but you are not exactly the model vampire. You spoke to me about protocol, but the mess that was created when you let one of the girls you had chained up go was the whole reason I was sent to clean up your operation."

As he's been talking, Hal's observed the wolf's stance changing. It is leaning forward, seeming ready to pounce.

"Jacob, I need to know now!"

"Hal, I -"

But there's no chance to hear if Jacob has a secret to tell. The werewolf suddenly lunges forward and Hal has no choice but to throw the torch at it, let go of Jacob, and make for the doorway to the cell. The wolf howls as the fire hits him but in his peripheral vision Hal sees it still coming as he runs into the dark room and grabs the edge of the door. He swings it towards him just as he sees the wolf lunge at Jacob, who is running to the other end of the hallway. Hal considers not closing the door completely but then hears the close howls from other wolves.

He slams the door shut and within moments it shudders as the weight of one then another werewolf crashes into it. He backs up from the door, praying it will hold - he'd heard the automatic bolt click as it had shut. The wolves crash into it again. No doubt they can smell him in here. How they can smell him through the haze of blood he doesn't comprehend; perhaps they just aren't in tune with it. The werewolves throw themselves against the metal door in rapid succession. To his intense relief, the door holds.

He hears whimpering behind him and focuses his attention to the inside of the room. He turns to Sylvie and sees her cowering once again with her arms protectively over her head. He kneels down in front of her.

"It's alright. I told you, they will not hurt you. And in any case, the cannot come in." She doesn't respond. "Here, at least I can free you of those chains." At that statement she lowers her arms and looks up at him with frightened eyes. She winces as he unlocks the manacles from her wrists then she pulls up her knees, hugging them to her and watching the door as it shakes with each pounding. She trembles and gasps each time there is an impact. He sits in vigil next to her.

After a while he laughs grimly. She turns her attention to him, a look of disbelief on her face and whispers to him, "What pray tell do you find amusing?"

"Not amusing. Ironic. Mere minutes ago this was a prison for me. Now it has become a sanctuary."

She looks back at the door and says in an unsure tone, "I suppose we should count ourselves lucky this is a safe place. That you are locked in here with me, rather than outside with the monsters."

He looks at her appraisingly, his gaze drawn to her neck, and swallows hard. He whispers, more to himself, "Safety is a matter of perspective. I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me." He lets the implication stand; he is the monster she should fear. He lowers his gaze to his fingers, starts to tap them together nervously as doubt and hunger begin creeping back to the forefront. "I had hoped to get you out safely, but now we still have many hours to endure in here. At this moment my mind and senses are occupied by the werewolves, but once they quiet and leave us be I don't... I don't know if I can continue to resist."

She doesn't answer but instead moves to try to stand. She braces herself against the wall, using it to leverage herself up slowly, one hand-push at at time. Each time the wolves slam into the door she pauses, trembling, but finally manages to stand. In one fluid movement he stands next to her.

She pushes off the wall and takes a shaky step. He moves to give her a hand, but she shies away and so he lets his arm fall. She takes another unsteady step, letting go of the support of the wall. As she takes a third step the impact of the werewolves on the door causes her to start and she looses her balance. As she falls she reaches out and Hal catches her in his arms.

She winces. From pain? From his touch? He's unsure. When she looks up at him and makes to pull away Hal says gently, "Let me be of assistance. Please."

She pauses, her look searching. Then she nods, replying, "We need to keep you busy in any case. Help me walk. I've been too long on that floor and I fear my bum is permanently numb."

With a little smile he adjusts her in his arms carefully, winding his arm around her waist and pulling her close to lean on him. They walk around the room, staying away from the door. The pandemonium outside has simmered down; Hal can hear some of the prisoners crying for help, wolves prowling the hallway, and occasional howls, in addition to the ones that have concentrated outside their door. They have not ceased their attempts to get inside, scratching at the metal noisily and periodically slamming into the door.

After a few cycles around the room Sylvie's legs buckle. Hal stops, supporting her. "Do you wish to sit back down?"

She nods negatively but says, "I suppose I must. Though the thought of being on that cold hard floor once more makes me want to weep."

Hal helps her down and sits next to her. "I could... you could..." Hal stumbles over his words. He breathes in a sigh and starts again. "Sylvie, will you permit me to hold you... that is to say... I am marginally more comfortable than the cold hard floor..."

Sylvie's lips twitch slightly. "Yes, I suppose you are." She shifts on the floor then says, "And the temptation?"

"As you yourself said, proximity makes no difference. In fact, it seems to help."

She's quiet so long Hal thinks she will refuse. But she finally says, "Very well. My bum will thank you for giving it some respite."

Hal laughs as he pulls her up onto his lap. She settles against his chest stiffly.

"You know, you could at least have brought that torch in with you."

Hal pulls a face. "Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied by not getting killed by a werewolf. Flinging the fire at it to slow it down seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Perhaps. I just feel so cold."

"I know. I am so sorry. Even under the best circumstances I am ill-equipped to keep you warm."

He feels her head shift on his bare chest. "Where are the rest of your clothes?"

Hal looks to the corner he's been working hard to ignore. "I used my shirt and waistcoat to wipe away blood. I... I don't advise using them."

"No, of course not. I am just so cold. And tired."

"Rest then."

She meets his eyes then. "How can I rest? What if..."

Hal deliberately takes in a deep breath, testing himself. "I have a handle on the hunger now. You can trust me."

"You told me just a bit ago you weren't sure if you could resist. Trust is very difficult Hal. After all that has happened..."

Hal falters for a moment. "That was before... I feel... you make me stronger. I promised you I wouldn't let any more harm come to you. I will keep that promise. And I will do everything in my power to earn your trust once more."

She is quiet again. Then after a while he hears her barely breathe out, "Promise you shall wake me... if you plan to attack me?"

A small nervous laugh of relief escapes his lips.

She doesn't say more and he realizes she's fallen asleep. In her sleep she relaxes into him and he pulls her close to him, kissing the top of her head.

He whispers into her hair, "I know I can do this. For you. For us."

Sylvie wakes feeling his trembling. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, had not thought she would feel safe enough with him to do so. Somehow fatigue had overcome her. But now...

She slides off to the ground and faces him. He is covered in a sheen of perspiration, his eyes are squeezed shut, and he is mumbling something under his breath. Outside there is silence; the wolves had ceased their onslaught.

"Hal, how long?"

Through clenched teeth he states, "I believe it is near midnight. We still have at least six more hours before they awaken."

He finally opens his eyes and looks at her with hunger and desperation. She herself feels like her stomach has been hollowed out, like sand has been poured into her mouth. She can't imagine how the added craving for blood would make her feel.

"Your turn, Hal. You need sleep. Come, lay down as you did before."

He doesn't argue, which is an indication of how desperate he really is.

He looks up at her expectantly - his eyes dark pools. She remembers the first time she'd seen those eyes, that same sad, tortured look. She swallows back the lump that forms in her throat then starts to softly sing to him, her voice hitched.

Hal's hand comes up, his fingers hovering over where tears are spilling down her cheek, but she shakes her head quickly, afraid that if he touches her she'll give into the sobs she's been holding back. He drops his hand and looks away, tries to move away, but she starts stroking his hair. She feels him relax and after a few minutes sees his eyes flutter. She continues to massage his scalp with her fingers, swirling soothing patterns. She smoothes the damp hair back from his forehead, teasing the curling ends over his ears. She feels him go limp, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he finally escapes the weight of the hunger and surrenders into sleep.

She keeps singing, keeps stroking her hands through his hair, as much for herself as for him. Now that he is asleep, now that she doesn't need to remain vigilant, the memories and emotions, the fear, hopelessness, and sadness threaten to engulf her. But she has to remain strong. Six more hours and this ordeal would be over.

Hal comes into awareness slowly. First he hears singing; Sylvie's singing. The same singing that had lulled him to sleep. But she isn't in the same position. He doesn't feel her, though he still hears her heartbeat. His vision is red and there is heat everywhere. That awareness sends him bolting upright as he opens his eyes.

He blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of what he sees. He's on a beach, the sun ruthlessly burning his skin. He hears her laughter and swings his head around, finally seeing her in the water. She is far enough in that the crystal-clear water comes up to her waist, and he can see her bare skin showing through the tendrils of her hair as the ends of it float about in the water. What he mistook for her heartbeat must be the sound of the waves.

His mind feels sluggish; the memories are slow to come.

He remembers being stuck in the cell, the enticing smell of death all around him. Sylvie had been chained, a feast left just for him. He remembers the hunger, so potent he trembled uncontrollably with the struggle to keep it from overwhelming his sanity.

It echoes inside him still.

But she's here in front of him, safe.

The plan. Everything went according to plan.

Hal frowns, trying to piece how he came to be here.

An escape; the memory surfaces. They had fled and he had brought her to France, though not any part of the France he had described to her. It had been her idea to go somewhere the vampires would never think to look. He is a creature of habit; she a purveyor of the unexpected. They had ended up in a small village near the sea...

He remembers she had lulled him to sleep with her singing. And he had dreamed of that horrendous time in the cell. But it was only a dream.

Her singing cuts off suddenly; his lark has noticed he is awake. She is now turned toward him, looking for all the world like Botticelli's Venus, rising from the ocean wreathed only in her hair.

He pushes away the dream, the memories, and focuses on her as she calls out to him, beckoning, "Come here Hal, join me."

"I'd rather not."

"Surely you are not afraid of a little salt water."

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get salt stains out of leather boots?"

"You don't wear them in you ninny, you will need to remove all your clothes."

"Are you suggesting I remove all my clothing in public?"

"Look around Hal, we are the only two people within miles."

Hal looks up at the relentless sun "Vampires and sunshine do not mix well."

Sylvie makes an exasperated sound. "Please?"

She looks at him so invitingly. He can see the tracery of her veins under her porcelain skin, so inviting. The small waves on the beach sound like a heartbeat. After a moment's consideration he relents. With a resigned sigh he removes his boots, stockings and waistcoat and rolls his breeches up to his knees.

He approaches the edge of the water and gingerly makes his way in as far as the rolled up material will allow. She suddenly slaps her hands in the water, sending a gush of the cooling, salty water at him. He's near enough to her that he is doused.

Hal shakes his head with a shout of protest and she admonishes through her laughter, "Hal, you are such a miserable old sod." He raises his eyebrows, then with a quirk of his lips he suddenly returns the favour, scooping water at her. She squeals and jumps at him, almost knocking him down but he holds them steady as his arms wrap themselves around her waist. Their combined laughter reverberates between them.

He licks his lips, tasting the salty liquid. It stirs the the hunger inside him, stokes it higher. He looks at her neck, the pumping artery standing prominently.

She looks up at him and smiles one of her exuberant smiles as she slips her hands around his neck and her fingers tangle themselves into his hair. He tightens his grip and they slot together in an embrace. It still amazes him how they fit together, like puzzle pieces.

"How can I resist your siren call? I have often thought you my angel but today I believe I shall call you a mermaid."

She presses against him, rubbing her hips against his. "I do not think you'd like to exchange my legs for a tail, would you?"

He chuckles, his hands coming down to caress her bare thighs. "No, I suppose not," he whispers into her ear, then begins to nuzzle along her neck. The smell of her wet skin is intoxicating.

Her heartbeat sounds incredibly loud, not the waves after all, and all he can think of is wanting to take in her joy, wanting to experience the peace that drinking her blood will bring. He trails kisses just under her jaw, along her clavicle, into the hollow at the base of her neck. She makes no move to stop him. He frowns at that, but continues to kiss and then he licks the saltiness from her skin.

Before he can even think of stopping himself he grabs her fiercely and tilts her neck to further expose the waiting veins. He sucks on her skin, the salt and the warmth too much to resist. With a hiss of anticipation he manifests and runs the tips of his fangs along her neck, watches as beads of blood form. He licks at them, letting the taste ignite something savage in him, something that he's been holding back for too long.

Then he opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs in deep, sucking hard.

Her blood rushes into his mouth warm, delicious. It fills his hollow belly, makes the nerves in his body sing with power.

Her blood is bliss...

Hal wakes abruptly, sitting up gasping. Her blood...

It was just a dream.

He's woken into his worst nightmare instead. Darkness, her heartbeat, the smell of blood like a haze shrouding the entire room. Oddly he can feel tears leaking from his eyes - had he been crying in his sleep? - but his fangs are already out. He'd bitten himself while dreaming, the taste of his own blood only whetting his appetite for more. It would be so easy to give in...

But she's staring down at him, her eyes large and wet and pleading. Her hand comes to his cheek and he closes his eyes as he struggles to forget the delicious surrender of his dream, as he struggles to fight the monster...

Federico wakes up with a start, his stomach heavy and hurting - it is probably full of vampire. He is dead tired but he knows he must act quickly.

As he looks around at his blood-and-gore-covered brethren in different stages of awakening, it takes him no more than a few seconds to orient himself. He lunges up and runs from the end of the corridor he is in towards the door he knows he has to open. "Vengan! Come!" he says gruffly as he passes two of his men, dressed, one holding a torch while the other is gathering some of the remains. He grabs a shirt from the ground without pausing in his stride. As he stumbles to a halt he ties the shirt around his hips. His senses dull with his exhaustion, he cannot tell so easily the state of what waits behind the thick battered door. Momentary panic settles into him as he realizes he has no key, but as he tries the handle he finds that the lock has been damaged. As a wolf he could have beaten against the door hours more and not been able to open it; as a man it's a simple thing to turn the handle. He motions for his companions to come right in behind him, sends a prayer up to the Virgin, and opens the door.

What he does find surprises him. The torchlight reveals Sylvie cradling Hal on her lap, holding him while he trembles visibly, the white tips of his fangs in sharp relief against his clenched lips.

Federico goes inside, and it's as if a spell has been broken. Hal whips his head abruptly to the door and hisses at him, his fangs full out, his eyes flashing black. Federico quickly runs in as Hal is turning back to Sylvie. He grabs Hal's arm and yanks him sideways, throwing him towards the opposite wall. Federico hears the crack of Hal's head and is relieved to see him slump to the floor, dazed. As Hal blinks and shakes his head, Federico signals for his friends to grab him while he turns to pick up Sylvie.

"Get her out of here!" Hal screams, and Federico resists the urge to point out that is his exact intent. He sees the desperation in Hal's now clear eyes, although he is fighting the men holding him. Federico strides to the door but Sylvie whispers, "You need to get him somewhere else, somewhere free of blood." He nods in agreement and yells the command.

They drag Hal, roaring, resisting, over to one of the other doors, to an empty cell, and throw him in. They slam the door shut, the lock automatically engaging. The door immediately shakes as Hal collides with it.

It shakes again and again, a violent string of profanities accompanying each impact.

Federico turns away, carrying Sylvie - crying, trembling, broken - to freedom.

In addition to "It Hurts" by Richard Wells from the Being Human S3 soundtrack, my inspiration music for the dream is "Bliss" by Muse.