We twisted as one at my ringtone, a tangle of limbs and legal papers, and he stretched over to the floor. I leaned too, grabbing my trousers by the waistband and pulling them towards me. Where was it? The pockets were empty, apart from a domino; it fell out as I smoothed out the legs, and he smirked at that from where he was twisted to the floor. The blood still in my system made me slower, but it wasn't enough. Nothing compared to the smell and the taste of blood, or the sound of my fangs slicing, or the acid burn as I swallowed. But it was alright, as a stop-gap. I needed more. Presumably, when an Old One fell off the wagon, he did it properly.

Who was phoning me? Nobody had phoned me, apart from Cutler.

"This is why you preferred letters, I suppose? Or was it telegrams?" He broke the tune playing, his eyes moving towards mine, and I saw then that he was holding the phone, still ringing. "Whichever antiquated method you liked, I'm glad you saw sense. This is far more practical." He pressed a button on the phone, and the ringing stopped. "Although – the ringtone needs some work. Hello?" He turned away from me slightly. "Yes, his phone – well, I think he stole it. Can I take a message? Who is it?"

The phone switched to loudspeaker, and the speaker was silent, pausing until Cutler turned to me with a somewhat desperate expression. Lost for words? That was new. He sighed, and pushed the phone towards me. It was Tom, according to the name on the screen. "Hal? Is that you? Why was he answering your phone? You said you knew him from a while ago. When did you meet him again?" He was speaking quickly, too quickly. I checked the clock on the wall; he'd be at work.

I didn't speak, thinking hard. So, Tom knew that Cutler and I knew each other. He was also a factor in Cutler's plan to expose the supernatural to humanity, which he knew about, presumably. He knew that I was drinking blood again. But I told him that Cutler and I were friends, and the fact that he and I were obviously together, and the fact that he had access to my phone suggested… Right. Fantastic, just what we need as the Old Ones come to town – a good old-fashioned sexual identity crisis. Well, better now than then I suppose – we were "legal" as Cutler put it, now.

But then, we weren't… boyfriends, or even friends, he and I. We had a past, yes, but the past was hurried, rushed, because there was the risk of being caught; men like us were acting illegally every time we touched. It was different now – we were legal indeed (had been since 1967 apparently, and he'd know) but even though it's no longer a crime to find other men attractive, people still talk. I sank to the floor, Cutler looking frantically at me. He grabbed the phone from my outstretched hand and hung up quickly, without speaking.

"What the hell was that? Why didn't you say something?" He knelt down to my level, and raised my head in his still-bloody hand. He looked a strange mix of post-coital satisfaction, and anger. "You do know, don' t you, that he knows where my office is?" I looked up then. Tom couldn't come here.

"What?" Then it hit me. "Of course, he's the werewolf you're using. Great. So, he knows I'm with you, and the only place he'd think to come, to find you (as he wants to find me), is here." My mouth twisted in anger, and I stood up, away from his skin. "You're so bloody smug the whole time! Killing a few humans? Planning the exposure of our entire world? Making me fall off the wagon spectacularly, and then continue to use me as some sort of toy? It's really not a problem to you, is it? Nobody else matters, apart from Nick fucking Cutler." I was breathing heavily now, and the long-forgotten rage was building up in me. The rage that would make me murder and rape and pillage.

He smirked, but his eyes were sad. "Nick? That takes me back. And swearing? My, my, you disappoint me." Damn him. Damn him and his smart words, how dare he?

"You're just a kid. Why are you trying to play with people – why the Old Ones? I knew you were ambitious (suppose that's my fault, isn't it?), but the Old Ones? Have some perspective. I know you're clever, but this is idiotic. They won't listen to you." I paused, and he took the chance to cut in.

"Oh, run back to your werewolf! The Old Ones don't need you anymore, so I don't think they'd care about your opinion." I snorted at that. Fergus called me Lord Hal until the moment I staked him – they wanted me back. "I'm going to hand them the world on a silver platter. You can share the glory if you want to. You can go back to the top, with me."

The top. That meant power, and freedom, and blood. I saw myself at the right hand of Mr. Snow, where I belonged. Cutler and I – they tolerated our sordid relationship (of sorts) then, and presumably now we'd be welcomed, for some of them were surprisingly liberal. I could have blood from wherever I wanted. I could be rich again, and nobody would disturb me to make me practice piano with a baby, or make me serve chips to the scum of the earth.

Then, as I retrieved my clothes and started getting dressed (Tom was on his way, and presumably he'd rather we were dressed and decent), I saw a small stain of milk. Eve. Oh, God. She was the War Child; she could destroy the vampires. I couldn't get back to the top if she lived, but I couldn't kill her. That would destroy Annie and Tom. I pictured Tom's face at my betrayal; eyes almost hidden under his eyebrows, but glistening with stubborn tears. He'd probably stake me himself, if I got anywhere near the baby. But I had the burn! It throbbed painfully as I slipped my arm through my sleeve – I was the nemesis, surely?

But then destiny and prophecy were mind games. This was what mattered; the living facts. "No," I said firmly, turning to face him. "I can't do that. Not even for you." If I were to join him, I would regress. The cycle was nearing its end; soon, I would be a monster again, and I couldn't be like that around him. I couldn't.

He stopped, frowning slightly. "Not even for me? Not going to call me Nick this time?" He moved closer, and trailed a finger lightly across my chest. "Working out suits you far too much," and the words were gossamer-light against my face. "You see, I never promised any level of self-restraint." His hand moved upwards, gently, to cup my chin, and he looked into my eyes as if he could see my soul. Not that I had a soul, of course.

"No." The slight growl to my voice caused his eyes to widen slightly, but he stayed where he was. I turned away, buttoning my shirt. "Put your clothes on, Tom will be here. We need to think of a cover story; we can't tell him the truth. Oh, tonight is your ridiculous plan. I forgot thanks to you." I threw him his trousers and belt, and pulled my shoes on.

"Listen to me. Eve has to die. The War Child, we've got to kill her. But Tom and Annie will fight tooth and claw (well, Annie will stake us) if we try, so we need a plan. It'd be good if we could destroy ourselves at the time, and the Old Ones." He looked up then, obviously thinking I'd gone insane.

"You're crazy." His voice was quiet, but still had the mocking edge that I knew so well."Kill ourselves? I don't think you quite understand what I want. Fame, glory, power – not insignificance and death. How would we kill them all, anyway?" He looked down again, and carried on buttoning his shirt, but walked towards me. We were both fully clothed now, but he had slight smudges of blood on his hands and neck still. Gently, I brushed my lips against them, as if I could kiss them away.

From outside, the noise of someone knocking on the door made us leap apart. Cutler moved silently to the door, pulling away from me. When had he locked it? He slid the bolt across with a clatter, and Tom burst in."Hal? Mr. Cutler? Are you he-" his voice broke off when he saw both of us standing there. "Hal, you need to come in for work." I sighed, and next to me so did Cutler, but it was almost imperceptible.

"Why're you here? I thought you hadn't spoken for –"

Cutler cut in. "Decades? Half a century? Yeah, because he decided to run away with a werewolf." His voice was bitter, acerbic, and his words hurt me, almost as much as they hurt him. It was half a century ago, like he said, and he was still hurting. "You see, Tom, he uses people. He gets inside their heads, makes them friends with him, makes them respect him, look up to him, love him even – and then he'll just turn around and dump them without a second thought." His face screwed into a smile, dripping with irony.

Tom shrugged slightly. "He's my mate. My best mate. C'mon, we need to go to work." He tugged slightly on my arm, but before we could go, Cutler stepped towards us and almost shoved his arm off mine. "Actually, we need you to do something, Tom. Remember what we were talking about, the full moon and you destroying the Old Ones?" His voice was quiet, but forceful.

I jolted. Tom thought he was destroying the Old Ones? Why couldn't he do it? Cutler and I both wanted them gone – and once he'd transformed, he was lethal to us. The mark on my arm throbbed when I remembered it was there; his blood would kill us. He'd have to be bleeding, which would weaken him, but only a bit; he could still fight. "Nick?" I grabbed his arm, expecting him to shrug off the contact.

He turned towards me once more, eyes alive and sparkling with anger still. "Oh, I suppose you want something? Never mind that you have me alr-" My fingers tightened on his arm, and he went silent. Tom looked between us, the child left out of the adults' conversation. Cutler sighed, and looked at Tom, right into his eyes.

"I know you don't want to be a weapon, but if you do this, you won't have to be any more. You can kill the Old Ones, and there won't be any more violence or fighting." I saw suddenly, what a great lawyer Cutler would have been. It wasn't just the words he used, but the way he said them; it was because it was he who was speaking, that they sounded good. I blinked, seeing the sun for the first time. Seeing him properly. It had taken long enough.

Nodding, Tom smiled faintly. "And then I can be normal? And it'll be safe for Allison to be friends with me? Macnair always said I'd fight the vampires until I died, but you're alright, you two. And Mitchell, he was nice. You're a mate, Mr. Cutler. And Hal." He was beaming now, eyes lit up in a way that I hadn't seen since he guessed the correct value of a toast rack on Antiques Roadshow.

"Of course. And didn't Allison say she wanted to be a lawyer? Maybe I can help her out." Cutler was smiling too, but it was a genuine smile for once, not the smirk of a shark. Brilliant, more Allison. She'd want to know about Alex, I suppose, and I'd have to explain that my sometime… boyfriend had killed her. In fact, I'd probably have to tell Annie about that, and Cutler. Of course, she'd met him, and didn't like him. But I suppose all somewhat maternal figures dislike any competition for affections. She'd been back for a few days, but hadn't spoken – she was sad, and wan; she didn't talk, just held Eve. And Eve wasn't speaking Japanese any more, according to her.

Tom grinned round at me, then lightly punched me (he'd have creased my shirt, were it not already creased from Cutler's clenching fists) in the chest. Presumably he'd thought it was lightly, but Cutler snickered as I swayed. I couldn't tell Tom about all that, not yet. But I'd have to.

"Let's go." Tom raised his eyebrows slightly (in fairness, I'd snarled at him the last time he'd mentioned the café) but followed me to the door. I turned to look at Cutler, and he smiled, but then the mask slipped and his face was radiant. Why was he so happy? I'd thought of a way to benefit both of us, and Tom, but what about Eve?

His hand shot out, and my fingers closed around the domino he'd taken from my pocket. Replacing it, I also found my phone. It had a new message, but I turned it off without reading it, looking at him.

"I'll see you." His words burned with a quiet determination; not just the lacklustre commitment of a friend, but a promise to me, and I was certainly a hell of a good friend.