This is a new fic from me, it's length as yet undetermined. This is my interpretation of young Hal, the newly turned vampire with a lot of AU and supposition thrown in. Updates may be slow. The recognisable characters of Being Human belong to Lord Toby Whithouse and his band of merry and scarily talented writers, i just like to play with them once in a while but i always put them back where i find them. All errors are my own and unintentional

Fergus's quote below from the season 4 episode The Graveyard Shift always sat a little bit uneasily with me regarding Wyndam. The Wrath of God had five hundred years age wise on Lord Harry and maybe what Fergus said was his own personal opinion but i don't believe for a single second that Wyndam was scared of him. This fic is my own interpretation of how Wyndam and Hal may have crossed paths. Love to hear your thoughts, if any :)

For Lady Athenais.

Numb.

"I think the others are scared of him. Ivan, Wyndam, Jacob. Even Hettie. Not Mr Snow obviously. Sometimes I think the only demon worse than him must be the one he's running from… "

The Present…

Nervous trepidation fills him as he follows Tom and Alex into the warehouse. If he had any sort of heartbeat then right now it would be loud enough for everyone to hear. His breathing is shallow as they creep along and then pause. As Hal turns to look, his eyes widen and fear pools coldly in the pit of his stomach when he sees Snow seated behind the long narrow table, holding court like the monarch he aspires to be. His mouth goes dry and he licks his lips as his eyes skip over the faces accompanying him. He knows them, he knows them all. He used to sit at a table such as that, more often than not on Snow's right hand. That was such a long time ago and he isn't talking about the fifty five years of isolation he's just emerged from.

Where is he? He feels his stomach clench as he almost desperately searches him out. He can't see him. Hasn't he arrived yet? It's very rare that they travel alone so perhaps he's been delayed somehow. He just knows that he wouldn't miss an occasion such as this one. Something feels off somehow and the uneasiness resting between his shoulder blades increases. He turns his head to look at Tom.

"We have to get out of here." he whispers to him and his gaze falters back to the other group. Under any other circumstances he would be here with all of them. Fear curdles inside of him. Snow doesn't know that he's here, that he's in Barry. Once he does then it's game over. He'll instruct him to join them and he'll obey without question. It won't be within his power not to.

He drags oxygen into his lungs as they emerge into bright daylight. Hal walks, he has to keep going, because if he stops then he'll go back to them, announce himself and rejoin the fold. Every instinct is screaming inside of him to do exactly that. His hands curl into fists and he frowns against it. He feels ill. He wants to vomit.

Where is he? He didn't see him there. He should be there but he wasn't. Why isn't he there? Where is he? His legs feel rubbery and he almost stumbles.

"Hal…slow down…" he barely hears Tom call out, his mind is busy, filled with scenarios and situations. What if he's already here, what if he's been watching him all of this time and he has been unaware?

"Hal!" Alex's voice is sharp with impatience and he pulls up short as she materialises in front of him. He stares at her in confusion for a moment.

"You don't understand. We must leave. If Snow is here, then the others will be too, he'll be there, he has to be." His words stumble over themselves in a panic-stricken whisper and she stares at him strangely.

"Who? Who are you talkin' about?" she demands and he frowns at his brain struggles to comprehend what he's just seen, what he's witnessed and the realisation that it is finally beginning.

"What's goin' on Hal…why did ya take off like that?" Tom sounds faintly out of breath as he finally catches up to them and it's then Hal realises how quickly he's been walking, so lost in his thoughts. He lifts worried eyes to his friend's face.

"We must leave. Immediately. They're here. We must take Eve and Annie and just…leave."

"The Old Ones…but you're one of 'em an' I thought you weren't scared of 'em?" Hal stares at him and his eyes widen.

"You don't understand. Snow is there, he's the leader of us all. This is business Tom. Once word gets to him that I'm here then he'll demand my immediate return and I will return to him. I will obey him absolutely and completely without question therefore we must go…now." he can see that he has confused Tom completely.

"But you knew they were comin'…." Hal's frown deepens. He turns to walk again and freezes when he feels Tom grab his upper arm. He turns his head and he looks at him and Tom frowns at the expression on Hal's face. He's never seen him in this state of panic before and he finds it disconcerting.

"I know…I know…I just…" He realises that when it is all said and done, he isn't ready to face up to them.

He doesn't want to face him most of all.

The Past…

His head hurts. He needs to feed. Perhaps his head hurts because he needs to feed. He doesn't know but his arm curls protectively across his stomach as it gives a low intense rumble.

His eyes take in his accommodation. By all accounts it is quite sumptuous. He has a bed this time with fine sheets and warm coverings and he is fed on a regular basis; more wine and food than he knows what to do with but of what he really requires there is no sign.

He hasn't seen Snow today and he wonders why. They were introduced a little while ago he isn't quite sure of exactly when but they came across each other and for some reason Snow has taken a liking to him.

He lies in the centre of his wide bed and wraps a sheet tightly around his body. He stares up at the high ceiling as the deep growl in his stomach transforms into pain. He feels every muscle tighten in response and the ringing inside of his skull intensifies. A cold sweat coats his skin. Snow has instructed that he remain here and not to leave. He won't say why and that annoys him. He closes his eyes and screws them tightly shut.

They pop open again when he hears a door open and he lifts his head off the pillow as he becomes aware of the rapid fluttering of heartbeat and pulse. He sees her and he slowly sits up and watches her as she comes closer to him. She's carrying clean linen but she doesn't look at him as she crosses the room and disappears through another doorway to his left that is partially hidden by wall hangings. He listens and at the same time shuffles to the edge of his bed. He watches her emerge and she's carrying his clothes from the previous day. She hasn't acknowledged him yet; she hasn't even looked in his general direction. He continues to regard her, his fascination growing.

She's a pretty thing with inky black hair that tumbles unbound and uncovered down between her shoulder blades. Her skin is olive tinted and flawless and he wonders at the colour of her eyes. He continues to watch as she turns in his direction and finally she looks at him.

Her eyes are a liquid dark brown colour and she is quite beautiful.

He watches as she bobs a little curtsy and he is charmed by her all over again.

"Your bath is ready Mr Yorke." her voice is low, respectful and accented. He frowns at her.

"My bath?" Her eyes flick to his face and quickly drop to the floor again.

"Mr Snow has instructed me to tell you that he is expecting an important guest and that you must bathe…and be dressed in time for his arrival. He was very specific." Hal barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

"Was he now?" He slowly gets to his feet and at the last moment grabs a sheet from his bed and he wraps it around his naked body not before he catches a glimpse of the girl's cheeks which flush a rosy hue. He bites back a smile.

"What is your name?" he asks as he wraps the sheet toga style around himself. Once more she glances up at him and then away again.

"Francesca…sir." she whispers back. He watches her. Her skin is smooth and unlined and she is the owner of a pair of full plump lips that just beg to be kissed. He feels lust warm him.

Maybe after he has bathed…

"Francesca…a pretty name. I'm Hal." he replies.

"It is an honour to make your acquaintance…Hal." she murmurs as she dips into another curtsy. He regards her with a half-smile of amusement before leaving to go into the next room.

There is a large oval tub in the centre of the small room. He catches the aroma of sweet smelling herbs that have been added to the hot water and he watches the steam from it curl lazily up to the ceiling. He sighs quietly, feeling the previous knot of tension begin to dissolve inside of him. On a table beside the tub is the neat pile of linen he'd watched Francesca carry in before, accompanied by a large cake of ivory white scented soap. He looks down at his chest and he sees the faded rusty brown stains that mark the skin, there are similar sweeping streaks down both arms and encrusted beneath his fingernails. He frowns slightly. When was the last time he bathed? In truth he doesn't really remember. One day blends into the next when living this existence. He sighs. So Snow has a visitor and that he must be made presentable. Another mentor he wonders? How many will that make this one? He forgets. He sighs quietly and drops the sheet and he climbs into the tub.

The water is pleasantly hot as he sinks down into its heat. He's surrounded by a cloud of fragrant steam as he stretches out and rests his head against the rim. He's discovered that he likes to bathe and prefers to do it regularly. In the past there wasn't much of an opportunity to do so but now he takes advantage of it. He closes his eyes and remembers the first time he'd undergone the process and of how loudly he had protested. It had taken three baths such as this one before he had been proclaimed clean enough and the indignity of it lives with him still. Now he's welcomes it, enjoys the feel of the heated water against his skin, of how it relaxes him. He likes being clean. He likes being clean most of all.

He turns his head when he hears the door between chambers opening and he sees Francesca appear. Hal straightens so that he can see her more clearly as she retrieves the soiled sheet and disappears again.

He sighs once more and relaxes back against the rim of the tub again. He closes his eyes and unbidden an image of Lizzie flashes into his memory. He remembers her pretty blue eyes and her long golden fair hair. He remembers her laughter and her smile most of all. It almost makes him smile in response but not quite. He frowns slightly and opens his eyes and gazes unseeingly ahead. He won't think about her. He takes a deep breath and instead he slides beneath the silky surface of the water.

A shadow flitters across his vision and breaks his concentration and he noisily resurfaces. Water sloshes messily over the rim as he sits up. He opens his eyes and turns his head and he sees Francesca standing beside the tub staring at him with wide startled eyes. He wipes at his face and looks at her again.

"What are you doing?" he demands testily.

"I…I thought that you might need…help…" her voice fades. Hal stares at her.

"M…Mr Snow instructed me to make sure that your every need is met…" she continues to stutter.

"Very well…" he snips impatiently and sees how she creeps almost timidly towards the table and she picks up a smaller square of soft looking cloth. Cautiously she approaches the side of the tub and dips the cloth into the water. He pulls his knees up beneath his chin and tenses when he feels her smooth the wet cloth across his back, between his shoulder blades. The herbal scent of the soap fills his nostrils as she moves the cloth backwards and forwards in careful smooth strokes. He can feel the water sluice down the length of his spine. He swallows, his mouth becoming dry. She's being so gentle, so cautious…

Pain. Intense pain.

I can feel fingers digging into the back of my neck. I can't move my arms. Hands slide all over my body, touching, probing, prodding, taking.

I'm cold, so cold. It feels as though I have no feeling inside of my body apart from this pain.

I can smell him, unwashed and pungent. I can feel his skin against mine.

Make it stop, God in heaven please make it stop.

Another one. Oh God.

Pressure, pain. I feel my face being forced into the mattress.

I can't breathe.

Such savagery and hatred in this act of possession.

God save me. No more.

"Enough!" His body jerks as his roared command echoes around the room, bounces off the wall. He flings an arm outwards. Instantly Francesca stops what she's doing and staggers back in terror. Hal pulls his knees more tightly beneath his chin and curls his arms around them. He rests his forehead on his knees and closes his eyes. He remains like that for a moment, quivering and shaking, his heavy breathing rasping in his lungs and echoing around the room.

"Leave me…no…" he snaps out and she freezes on the spot. Slowly he lifts his head and he looks at her.

"Wine. Bring me wine." he tells her in a low strangled voice and he watches her scuttle out.

The ensuing silence is overwhelming as Hal straightens up. Usually he doesn't allow himself to remember that time. He keeps it all firmly inside of him as if stored inside of a locked chest but that memory surged free all because of a gentle touch. He takes a deep breath and he scrubs at his face. He didn't realise that he'd spoken out loud until he'd seen the expression on her face. She'd been terrified. He exhales shakily.

He needs to at least try to remain in control.

He watches Francesca return with a cup of the requested wine and he holds out a hand for it. Carefully she places it there before retreating a couple of hasty steps.

He drinks it quickly, gulping it down in one go. He holds the cup out to Francesca and then retrieves the cloth from where Francesca dropped it in the tub. He lifts his head once more and regards her.

"I'm not sure what…came over me. I'm sorry." his voice lowers to almost a whisper. He takes another, deeper breath and feels his control reassert itself further.

She stays in the room keeping a careful silent vigil as he washes. He scrubs every single inch of his body. Once he is finished then she stands beside the tub holding out a large linen cloth for him as he stands up and then slowly, carefully he gets out. He regards her sombrely and takes the cloth from her and he slowly wraps it around his waist.

"Thank you Francesca." His fingers brush against hers and he watches how her pupils dilate at the contact.

"You're very pretty. Do you have a sweetheart or a husband?" he begins to turn and he walks a couple of paces away from her as he secures the cloth more firmly at his waist and then he pauses. Slowly he turns around and he observes her. Her beauty is quite simply breathtaking.

"No sir, I have neither." she replies quietly. He's back in front of her in the blink of an eye. She flinches and gasps. He regards her, staring at her with a single minded intensity that is unsettling. He tilts his head imperceptibly to the side.

"Pity." She gives a cry as he grabs her by her upper arms and hauls her up against him. His eyes flash black and his fangs erupt as he buries his face into the curve of her neck.

His grip tightens on her arms and he turns and pushes her back until she is pinned up against the tub and he uses his body to hold her brutally in place. Her struggles momentarily excite him; he often feels the frisson of a challenge when his meal fights back but it doesn't last for long as he becomes more focussed on the task at hand. He feeds, his fingers dig punishingly into her arms as bloodlust overtakes and overwhelms. He gulps her blood down like a man on the brink of starvation and gradually she becomes weaker and weaker until she fades completely. He hears her heart finally cease beating and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes half closed, the lower half of his face red with her blood. After a moment he looks down at her face and he blinks. He lets go of her and dispassionately he watches her slowly slide to the floor.

"Hal?" he stiffens when he hears that familiar voice and he wipes at his mouth and his chin. He glances down at the corpse at his feet once more before stepping over her and leaving the room.

Hal stares at Snow for a moment and notices that he isn't alone. He doesn't recognise his companion but the way that he looks at him rankles somewhat. He tears his eyes away from his face to focus on his benefactor. He then remembers and he lowers his gaze to a point not quite floor level.

"Mr Snow…" he begins, keeping his tone carefully apologetic. His eyes lift up when he hears him sigh.

"Hal I specifically said that you had to be ready to receive our guest today. Where is that girl…I was assured she was a good and honest worker…" Snow's chilly gaze casts around the room and then sharpen on the doorway behind Hal and he sees how Hal glances over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted." Hal mumbles, his eyes lowering once more.

"Do you mean to tell me that this is who you dragged me all the way from London to meet?" the visitor's voice drips with annoyance and condescension and Hal lifts his head once more to regard him. The visitor's blue eyes are pure ice and they regard him with clear and complete disdain. His skin is pale, his face narrow and sharp, bordering on vulpine. He is clad entirely in unforgiving black and it seems to award him a sense of presence. Hal swallows, his spine prickling with unease. Instead he straightens his back and lifts his chin and stares at him.

"You have me at a disadvantage sir…" he begins, his tone bordering on insolence and he watches the visitor's eyes narrow.

"Careful boy…" he snarls softly. Anything else that Hal is about to say in response is halted by Snow.

"How many times do I have to remind you that these people are here to help with your daily tasks and not for you to indulge in your…baser instincts? This is becoming an alarmingly regular occurrence my boy and quite frankly I'm rather disappointed. I thought you had more control than that?" Hal hears the anger that threads through his voice and he lowers his head once more in a move of seemingly abject humility.

"Apologies." he whispers. Snow sighs in a long suffering manner that Hal is all too familiar with.

"Never mind. You need to dress and be in the Great Hall in fifteen minutes otherwise I shall send someone in to drag you out and believe me he won't be someone you can eat." Hal glances up and he sees his eyes flash impatiently as he looks back to his companion. Hal lowers his head once more.

"This is why I wanted you to meet this degenerate Edgar…such an impossible child." he hears him sigh.

"Fifteen minutes Hal and not a moment longer." he calls out as they walk away from him. Hal lifts his head and he stares at their retreating backs. At the door the visitor…Edgar pauses. He turns his head and he looks at Hal for a long moment. Hal stares defiantly back.

Edgar gives him a small chilly smile before he takes his leave.