BH Fanfic: Aftermath chapters 1-5 (over 15's only)

[Melissa Kane]

If you haven't seen all six episodes of Being Human, series one, there are a number of spoilers from the whole series throughout the story. If you do not want the spoilers, please don't read on. Thankyou.

Apologies in advance - this is not the polished, finished version so will need tweaking. If you spot any spelling or grammatical errors, please let me know and I'll correct them asap.

Also, some of the content herein is rated 15+ for content and language.

Enjoy! 'Lissa.

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Chapter One

Mitchell listened carefully at the door of the Isolation Room. The growls had quieted. He glanced over at Nina who was sitting upright with her back against the wall, her eyes drooping from lack of sleep. She seemed to sense someone looking at her and glanced up at him. There were questions burning in her eyes but the shock of what she'd seen was holding her tongue for the moment. Mitchell nodded and gave a small, reassuring smile which the pretty blonde nurse did not return. He could understand that and felt a great deal of sympathy.

Risking a peek through the spyhole in the door, he could see the wolf laid on its belly beside his... kill. To be truthful, there wasn't too much left of Herrick. Having had his chest emptied onto the floor by George's fangs and his head forcibly removed by those lethal claws, he had turned to the dusty mist that accompanied the final death of all vampires. The confusion and associated sneezing fit this illicited from the wolf would have been quite amusing in other circumstances. For now the wolf - George - was quiet, though his golden eyes were open and fixed on the door. The great head raised slightly more as it realised he was there, watching, and blinked slowly. He was relaxing now, perhaps winding down for the big change back. Mitchell wondered how much George really remembered of these times. Did the young lyco keep the memories buried or were the things done in wolf form honestly only known by the wolf side of him? As the vampire watched for longer than he had intended, the wolfs ears lowered and his eyes closed. He was calm, now. And in that mood, Mitchell was surprised at how... well, how oddly beautiful the wolf could be. The fur had subtle shades, ranging from ginger to pure black around the eyes and muzzle.

Annie reappeared suddenly in the hallway in front of the dungeon room. Mitchell turned and smiled at her. Bless her heart, she'd gone all the way home to collect a fresh set of clothes for George. Nina, not expecting the sight on top of all the impossible things she had already seen tonight, gasped loudly in spite of herself. Her wide blue eyes were glued to the spot where the ghost girl had materialised with a full set of clothes clutched to her chest.

Mitchell moved away from the door and touched Nina's shoulder. As they had explained, none of them were as they seemed. To her credit, Nina had seemed to cope well with the news that not only was she having a relationship with a werewolf - Mitchell noticed that the break-up letter George had left in her locker was forgotten for the time being - but that her boyfriend's best friends were a century-old vampire and a ghost with poltergeist tendencies. Annie had done this on her own, just after Mitchell had commented that he hadn't been able to see, but it was a fair bet that the jeans he had been wearing to face Herrick were destroyed and he wasn't going to let George sully himself by wearing Herrick's leftover clothing. He was pleased that Annie was getting used to the newfound powers - including transporting items with her as she, well, teleported - that she had somehow acquired since ignoring the door of her own passing only two nights ago.

Inside the room, a soft growl in response to hearing Nina announced that the wolf was very much still awake. Mitchell braced himself against the door as he heard the scrape of claws on the concrete floor. Nina flinched at the sound and drove herself to her feet despite her obvious physical and emotional exhaustion. Her eyes fixed on the door as if she could see through it then flicked to Mitchell. He had been looking at her and frowned, only for a second, before returning his attention to the door and the lycanthropic George lurking beyond. Nina moved closer, a burning curiosity overwhelming any caution.

She was three feet from the door when it suddenly bumped outwards. Annie dropped the clothes she held to the floor and threw herself against it as Mitchell, palms out, pushed with all his strength. The door pushed outwards again, despite the two of them blocking it.

Even down here, Mitchell was aware that the sun was on the rise, but if it were, then the wolf shouldn't be this active now. In fact, the change back to the George they knew should be well underway, surely. A soft scrape came at the door, vibrating it beneath them. Abruptly, there was a low howl, mournful and strangely musical. The pressure on the door ceased as the howl faded to series of deep, pained growls and roars. Nina looked at Annie before pushing a hand against Mitchell's shoulder and wrenching the door open even as Mitchell shouted a warning against it. Was the woman trying to get herself killed?!

Inside, the wolf was laid on his side, his chest rising and falling rapidly as it contorted itself. Nina stopped in the doorway, watching. Annie and Mitchell flanked her, prepared for an attack which, as soon as they saw the state of the wolf, they knew would never come. Already Mitchell was aware of the shifting of the internal organs, their resizing and rearranging. He could hear the rapid, faltering heartbeat of the wolf even over that of the frightened but incredibly brave Nina. He actively ignored the scent of the vampire blood spilt on the other side of the chamber despite his hunger.

Abruptly, George's back arched and he rose on all fours, savage snarls and growls rising slightly in pitch as the fur, coarse and dark in most places, receded and lightened. The claws twisted, withdrawing into George's tortured body and rippling the skin. As the fur drew back to reveal pale flesh beneath, all three of them could clearly see the spinal column contorting, the short tail forcing inwards and causing the half man-half wolf laid there on the ground to scream in agony. The pitch was more like their George now, higher and nearer to the human than the animal vocalisations as the muzzle retreated. Mitchell in particular knew the sounds would have carried in the lowest part of the hospital, especially with the door open, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the sight. This was Mitchell's very first time of seeing the reversion to George's smaller, human form and his heart went out to the poor, cursed man who was appearing before them. It was a first for Annie and Nina also and both had tears rolling down their cheeks. Nina crouched, as close to eye level with George as she could.

His eyes were open, golden and agonised but a soft mewl escaped him as he saw her. It was as if George's body sagged in on itself and the greater muscular weight folded down to human size and the final few bones slid into their rightful positions with sickening crackling noises. The deep golden eyes shifted to a light yellow and cycled slowly through the rainbow down to George's usual light grey-blue iris as, exhausted, his eyelids flickered once or twice then closed. The crackling of muscle, bone and cartilage realignment continued for a few moments longer, but George had given in utterly to fatigue. Mitchell concentrated hard and could now hear the slow, steady sleeping rhythm of his best friend's heart and he knew the transformation was at an end for another month. But the consequences... how could George live with himself after this?

*****

A door banged at the far end of the corridor and Annie and Mitchell looked at each other. They couldn't let George be discovered but he was in no fit state to be moved yet. Nina, heedless of the possible discovery, had moved closer to her sleeping boyfriend, sitting with legs curled to the side and looking over his naked form curled up, almost in a foetal position, on the freezing ground. Annie crouched and urgently placed the clothes on the floor beside her before pushing the door closed on the two lovers as Mitchell strode off to intercept the visitor whom he'd already identified as one of Herrick's bodyguards, a burly vampire called Pratchett. Pratchett was big and undoubtedly a vicious b*st*rd, that was probably one of the reasons that Herrick kept him around.

Annie slid herself behind some of the clutter in the room, watching and preparing to step in of Mitchell needed her. Her eyes glittered violet in the dim light as she gathered her powers in readiness.

"Where's Herrick?" Pratchett demanded, his broad West Ridings accent adding to the illusion that he was as unintelligent as he seemed. This, Mitchell knew, was not the case.

Drawing himself up to full height, Mitchell was still a head shorter but the weight of his swathe cut through recent history lent him an advantage against the bigger man. Mitchell kept his voice low and menacing, his gentle Irish accent growing stronger as he spoke. "Herrick's dead. I killed him. So this ends now. I'm in charge now so tell the others, if they come near the hospital, me and my friends or our home again, they end up the same way as him. Got it." There was no trace of humour in Mitchell's face, only a dark warning. The sense of evil in that expression took Annie aback though she was impressed as the larger vampire shrank back and acquiesced without a murmur. However, Pratchett still peered over Mitchell's shoulder at the closed dungeon door. In the same tone, he added. "Annie, will you bring Herrick's clothes, please? I don't think he believes me."

Her presence suitably revealed, Annie stepped out into the open and walked back to the sealed room. Drifting through the door and passing by the now kneeling Nina and the sleeping George, she plucked Herrick's jacket from the exposed bolt on the wall where the vampire had left it, deciding already to leave behind the shredded suit behind. She stared at Nina who held a broken gold chain in her hand as she hesitated over touching the naked shoulder before her. "He's safe now, Nina. We all are." Annie said softly, her placating words no bridge for the gulf which seemed to have already formed between the two. They all might have time to properly discuss this later but right now....

Willing herself easily to Mitchell's side, Annie appeared and dropped the black, now dusty jacket to the floor between Mitchell and Pratchett. "There. Take it." Annie said coldly, holding her chin up defiantly. Pratchett's nostrils flared and he stooped, eyes fixed on the odd couple before him as he picked up the clothes and footwear. The glower he gave was obvious in meaning, but Mitchell was sure that nothing would happen just yet. The vampire ranks would need to be reshuffled and rearranged and such things take time. And Mitchell had made a challenge for leadership and won so the Bristol Coterie had to obey his decree.

*****

Mitchell watched Pratchett leave, the hulking frame as he smashed through the double doors, slamming both into the walls as he entered the hospital above. He stood watching long after the vampire was out of sight.

Reluctantly, Annie broke the reverie. “Why did you tell him that?”

Without looking away, Mitchell replied, “Tell him what?”

The poltergeist sighed and worded herself carefully. “That you killed Herrick.”

Mitchell looked at her sharply but he could see she was not admonishing him, only curious. “If they knew it was a Lyco that killed him and not me, as agreed, they'd hunt George down and kill him without a second thought. Us too, probably. This way, they think no rules of engagement have been broken and I have control over the Bristol vampires for the time being.” Annie nodded, understanding the reasoning and a little awed by Mitchell's new authority.

Mitchell yawned and rolled his shoulders to relieve the stiffness there. It had been an incredibly long night – the longest he could remember in recent years, in fact.

*****

He had only seen George transform one time, just once into the wolf and the unimaginable agony if it had awakened so much pity that he had wanted to help, to protect the young, vulnerable wolf. But it was well known that lycos were a rare breed, hunted and hated, the lost souls. Only now was Mitchell sure that this rarity was for the best.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Two

Mitchell watched Pratchett leave, the hulking frame as he smashed through the double doors, slamming both into the walls as he entered the hospital above. He stood watching long after the vampire was out of sight, deep in thought.

Reluctantly, Annie broke the reverie. “Why did you tell him that?”

Without looking, Mitchell replied, “Tell him what?”

The poltergeist sighed and worded herself carefully. “That you killed Herrick.”

Mitchell looked at her sharply but he could see she was not admonishing him, only curious. “If they knew it was a Lyco that killed him and not me, as agreed, they'd hunt George down and kill him without a second thought. Us too, probably. This way, they think no rules of engagement have been broken and I have control over the Bristol vampires so they won't make a move without my okay.” Annie nodded, understanding the reasoning and a little awed by Mitchell's new authority.

In contrast, Mitchell yawned and rolled his shoulders to relieve the stiffness there. It had been an incredibly long night – the longest he could remember in recent years, in fact. And he couldn't shake off the nagging worry that despite what he'd said, this wasn't over by a long chalk.

"Now there's those two." Annie said softly, staring at the closed dungeon door. "Nina's not run away yet so maybe..." She let the thought hang in the air, unfinished, but the doubt in her voice gave her away.

“Give them some space. They've both got a lot to think about.” Mitchell's sage reply, though fair, didn't sound hopeful either. “Let's go up to the canteen. George'll be asleep for an hour or more.” Annie nodded and linked her arm through his.

*****

The scent of the vampire was all over him, he knew it. That smell of dead but living flesh which confused and enraged him so. It moved, he could hunt it. It feared him, he could frighten it. It was flesh and bone, his claws and teeth could rend it yet it could not be eaten. And then there was the small space. He wanted to run, to chase, to howl, to mate. Ahh, his mate was so close, her scent as close as that of the vampire, as palpable. The solid trees around him were cold, the ground beneath his paws hard and uncomfortable yet her presence made it bearable. Her presence quelled the anger.
Somewhere, deep inside, was a spark of recognition, a word the wolf did not know. Nina. The wolf growled, railing against the knowledge that was flooding its animal brain, but the odd sense of recognition grew. Soon, the wolf could no longer think as a wolf, it would think as a man.

Nina scrambled back a little as George growled softly in his sleep. She was still a little nervous after the second sudden appearance of that ghostly woman in tne minutes. He snapped his teeth together, breathing deeply in through his nose and stretching toward her a little. He stopped moving then, but Nina's heart continued to pound in her chest and ears. Her right arm ached inside her sleeve and she flexed her hand without thinking, eyes fixed on her boyfriend's prone form.

Boyfriend? Nina momentarily remembered the letter. George had dumped her without so much as a by-your-leave, no reason other than the feeble, slightly pathetic assertion that "it wasn't working out", thats she "could do so much better than him" and that he had to "go away". He's ended it with "I'm sorry it has to end this way." It sounded so final and inevitable. Anger began to rise until it clicked. He was trying to spare her. Push her away again, only this time, she knew the reason why. He was... he was ashamed. Afraid, maybe? Afraid of the creature he became? That monster terrified him as much as it had her. And another realisation hit her as she sat on the painfully cold floor. Mitchell. She'd never seen in the laid back cleaner before. He and the girl with him, the one who recognised her but who Nina had never met before, seemed scared and tnese. She was considering this when she began to envision the scene. George was a werewolf and he had locked himself in the room with that man, intending to kill him. Mitchell and the ghostly girl had been rushing to stop him. It explained their urgency. Her George, the George who loved nights of gentle cuddling on the sofa with her while watching old black and white movies, he couldn't - wouldn't have planned to murder anyone, surely. She felt sick. Was it the werewolf thing that was George's big secret, or that he was also a cold-blooded murderer? If that was so, how could she have misread him so badly? She shuffled back further, getting to her feet, ready to leave.

The words in the letter echoed again in her head maddeningly, though. They didn't tally with the facts - George had forced himself to speak despite being in what looked like immense pain. He had told the other man he was wrong, that humanity was love and sacrifice and this proved he was human. She set to trying to think rationally, this made her mentally scoff that none of this was rational, let alone normal.

The letter bore the words of the George she loved, the shy, almost timid man struggling to clearly express himself. That last line - "I'm sorry it has to end this way." Nina began to shake when she realised that the letter had been a suicide note. George had fully expected to die down here, sacrifice himself in the act of facing that man. As she thought it, Nina knew it was the truth. The knowledge that he would do that, would want to die for... she didn't know what the reason was but he had obviously known he was going to die. The weight of it all but broke her heart. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks, unbidden. Whoever the other man was, he must have been dangerous for Mitchell not to try to stop his friend. George had faced him with courage and a deep love for others. That was her George.

On the floor in front of her, George shuddered and curled his legs and arms tighter to himself with goosebumps covering every inch of exposed skin. Hastily, Nina wiped her tears away, only now aware she was clutching his broken necklace in her hand. She slipped it into her pocket and knelt, reaching for the clothes on the floor. Her boyfriend needed some coverage.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Three

Annie Sawyer sat at the table in the canteen as Mitchell returned with two steaming hot cups of coffee. He placed one in front of her, for the sake of appearances, and settled into the seat opposite. “That's weird.” He commented idly, using a plastic sthingy to swish the coffee around in his cup.

“What is?” Annie asked, looking around herself at the three or four people scattered around.

“I thought... someone's who's usually on shift isn't here today. Thats all.” He replied thoughtfully. Annie really felt like Mitchell was keeping something from her. Something big.

“A friend?”

Mitchell shrugged lightly. “Not really, I know her by sight but I don't know her name. She's usually serving on weeknights. Maybe she just got off shift early or something. Its not that important.”

A long silence stretched out between them, Mitchell was lost so deeply in thought that Annie didn't want to interrupt him.

She considered the situation. Everything felt different, there was a vestige hope in the air, as if maybe things might actually be alright. Annie toyed with the cup in front of her, watching as Mitchell drank his coffee and listening to the constant low sussurus of the dead she was now fully aware of both inside and away from the hospital. I didn't hit her as strongly as the cry from the vampire victims in that awful room in the undertakers. She was perhaps getting used to it already. Trying hard to concentrate, she managed to pick out the odd phrase here and there but they saddened her. The cries of “Why me?” or other utterances to that effect, a couple of relieved voices swirled around, thankful that their suffering was over. One voice stood out, a long, protracted “No, oh no, please no!” When she heard that one, it frightened her and she stopped concentrating. The voices receded almost like the static of a mistuned analogue radio.

A man, looking dead on his feet, trudged past them and sat at the table near the fire exit. He caught her attention by the way he held his head wearily in his hands, dark circles hanging under his eyes and longish blonde hair hanging down in strands. Annie, who was facing him, watched in sympathy. His was the face of a man who was lost. Abruptly, she got to her feet and carried her mug of coffee over. “Here, you look like you could use this more than me.” She said, placing the cup on the table in front of him. The man, pale and unshaven, looked up.

“I couldn't... I haven't got any...” He began, protesting softly in a very distracted manner, but Annie held up a hand.

“Don't be silly. Drink up.” She smiled warmly and drew from his a grateful look.

“I... I don't have enough money to pay for this.” He said, wrapping his thin fingers around the cup, obviously revelling in the heat it was giving off but not drinking.

“Drink it and we'll call it even.” She said, sliding into the chair to sit with him. She glanced over her shoulder to find Mitchell looking at her and nodding approvingly. He then looked away, returning to those serious thoughts he was indulged in. “I'm Annie.” She said, offering a friendly hand.

The man looked at her for a moment then took the gesture as it was intended. Releasing her fingers, he gave a watery smile. “Michael. Your hand is freezing.” He commented idly.

She responded carefully. “Its a little cold outside.” She said by way of explanation. To blurt out 'Well, actually, I'm dead.' might not be the best approach.

Michael brought the cup to his lips and sipped gingerly. He winced as he swallowed then shot an apologetic look at Annie. The three sugars that Mitchell habitually had were obviously too much, so he held the drink in his hands instead.

“So, what bring you here... Annie, is it?” He asked

Annie nodded. “I'm visiting a friend. He's had a rough night but I think he's going to be alright.” She replied truthfully. “What about you?”

“My wife, um. We, well, she had a car accident.” Michael's voice cracked and he looked down at the table.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Will she be alright?” Annie asked, instinctively touching the man's hand.

“I don't know. But I don't know if I...” Michael stopped as Mitchell moved up beside them, taking the spare seat to Annie's right, Michael's left. He smiled distractedly and for once Annie cursed his timing.

“I couldn't help overhearing.” Mitchell asked calmly. “When did you die, Michael?”

The realisation struck Annie who hadn't known why she felt drawn to the man, just that she was. Michael sighed. “I don't know. So I am dead then?” Michael asked querulously, looking first at Annie, then at Mitchell. The vampire nodded sympathetically. The ghost straightened his shoulders, looking between Mitchell and Annie. “I thought I was, but I didn't know for sure.” The ghost seemed to take the revelation in his stride. “And you two are... are dead too?”

“I am. Mitchell's a vampire.” Annie said matter-of-factly, still bemused as to how she could have missed the obvious.

“Mitchell?” Michael looked taken aback. “John Mitchell?”

Mitchell moved back in his chair, finding this recognition unsettling somehow. “Might be.”

“They told me about you.” Michael, all of a sudden, didn't seem as down or as nervous as he leaned forward, arms on the table around the already forgotten coffee. A peculiarly intense expression settled on the dead man's face. “They told me all about you and your little companions...” His eyes flicked toward Annie.

*****

Nina finally had George dressed in his jeans and shirt – it had been awkward with George being practically a dead weight, but she managed. It was no worse than dealing with Mrs Whittaker, though, in retrospect. Now, she sat beside him, doing up his buttons as he continued to sleep deeply when she paused. Those twisted scars on George's shoulder peeked out from under the shirt, drawing her attention. Looking around, Nina unbuttoned her cuff and rolled back her sleeve. The fabric pulled at her skin as she separated it from the wounds beneath and she drew in a hiss of breath through her clenched teeth. Holding up her right arm, she compared the marks to those on George's shoulder. They looked similar in spacing. Hastily pulling her sleeve back down in case the others returned, she wondered if his story of an accident as a child was really true.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Four

It felt like wading through treacle, trying to wake up. Not that he'd ever tried wading through treacle, of course. That would be just... disgusting. George drew in a deep breath and sighed, opening his eyes, just a crack. A sea of grey swam in front of his eyes and slowly formed into a seriously canted wall and floor. His stomach ached a little, much as it did every month after the wolf, but it all but screwed itself up into a tight ball when a foot landed in his field of vision. He knew who was here already, her scent filled his nostrils and muddled the few thoughts that were swimming in his head right now. A quick glance upward revealed Nina standing and looking down at him.

He sat up quickly and smoothly, curling his legs against his chest before he realised something was different. He raised a hand then looked down at the rest of him and found himself already clothed. It didn't take a lot of working out what had happened, but his initial bemused expression made Nina smile. “You seemed a bit cold.” She said, crouching in front of him. “So I got you dressed.”

George met Nina's gaze sadly. “Thanks.” There was more than just a thank you in that one word, both of them knew it. The weight of knowledge lingered between them, memories of the previous evening came back piecemeal - the plan went awry, a carefully planned diversion and covering of tracks somehow failed all the same - and it was George who broke the contact first, looking away at the floor. He swallowed audibly and licked his lips. Nina hesitated in reaching out a hand to touch his cheek and make him look at her. As it was, she didn't get that chance.

The door was wrenched open. George was on his feet and in front of Nina before she could turn around. “Mitchell?” George sounded alarmed. No-one could understand this, but George was aware of everything, he could sense the urgency in Mitchell despite the vampire being as calm and unruffled as normal.

“Its alright. The door was just a bit stiff. But we... should get you home.” He gave George a hard look. “Like now.” Mitchell's gaze slowly strayed to the shredded clothes at the far side of the room and a slight frown creased his brow. He crossed the room in four long strides and gathered them up, shaking out the dust left by Herrick's demise. He screwed them together in a tight ball though more than half a dozen shredded strands hung down. Subtly, he watched George's reaction as he passed the young werewolf and was disheartened to see nothing but a mild curiosity. “We need to dispose of these. We'll burn them in the garden later.”

The four of them then left the Isolation Room as fast as they could, closing the door behind them.

The car park at this time in a morning was empty. It was a little early for discharged patients to be collected, a little after the change of shift. Idly, Nina wondered what her bosses would do to her for missing a large chunk of her shift without any excuse or so much as a request for a replacement. She walked beside her boyfriend but kept a distance, a distance which did not go unnoticed by any of the supernaturals. Annie put a hand on George's shoulder and squeezed gently, eliciting a small, sad smile from her friend before she moving forward alongside Mitchell and pulling her light grey cardigan around her.

Mitchell hunted through his pockets for the car keys. He was obviously trying to hurry and only succeeding in slowing himself down, as was always the way.

“Mitchell, can we.. drop Nina off home first?” George asked as they headed for the car. Something was definitely wrong, every fibre in him knew it. Mitchell could hide a lot of things, but not right now, not from George's intensely acute senses.

“Sure, thats not a problem.” Mitchell acquiesced easily, distractedly, as he slid on his sunglasses and looked around.

“Oh no you don't.” Nina protested, having followed along she stopped George with a firm hand on his arm. She turned him around to face her, ignoring the questioning glance from Annie who had stopped to look. Nina was wagging her finger in front of George's face “You have explaining to do and I'm not going home until you tell me everything.” The fire was in her belly and her cheeks flushed with a touch of anger. “Do you understand me, George?” She stopped and put her hands on her hips, daring him to defy her.

Annie covered her mouth to stifle a smile. The stunned look on George's face, which was clearly laced with a great deal of pride in his girlfriends strength and , combined with the small, compliant nod was actually very sweet. “Yes.” He agreed softly.

With the right answer given, Nina stalked away toward the car, the keys to which Mitchell has finally retrieved and opened up. He bundled the clothes he carried into the back as he pushed the seat forward. Nina climbed in immediately, pushing the clothes into the foot well. She wasn't going to be left behind. Annie waited for George to catch up. He leaned over in a conspirators whisper. “I think I'm in trouble.” He said worriedly.

“She'll be fine. You both will.” The poltergeist reassured him in a similar whisper, hoping with all her heart that she was right.

*****

From the upstairs window, Pratchett and a second vampire, Marco, watched the motley crew load into the car and disappear off out of the hospital gate. A third figure who was bent over the bed looked up, frowning and pursing her blood smeared lips as the heart monitor on the young comatose man in the bed began to whine. She reached around and unplugged the alarm. Unconcerned, she then continued to feed noisily.

“What do you think?” Marco asked deferentially, licking blood from his own lips.

Holding up Herrick's jacket, Pratchett again examined the torn sleeve and tail of the undertakers jacket.“I think Mitchell isn't telling us the truth.” Pratchett growled.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Five

The pink house on the corner stood, keeping a vigil over the strange occupants within.

In the kitchen, Annie busied herself making cups of tea and coffee, as she usually did upon returning home. Mitchell had settled himself at the table, watching her while pondering the events of the evening. Both of them, however, kept wondering what was going on upstairs. As soon as they had gotten into the house, George had given his housemates an apologetic, almost guilty look as he and Nina, not even stopping for a drink, headed up to his room.

Mitchell and Annie hadn't heard any screaming or breaking furniture since so things were hopeful. Sipping at the dregs of his third cup of coffee in half an hour, Mitchell looked at the ceiling. “They've been up there for a long time. I wonder what they're doing”

“There's a lot to explain and you know what George is like.” Annie offered, sliding another cup across the table and taking the empty one away. Mitchell, meanwhile, was on his feet and searching the cupboards for breakfast.

*****

George had been unable to properly speak since they sat on the bed. He'd asked Nina if she was alright. He knew her response of “Fine” was dishonest but he also knew he had no right to expect her to just be alright with this. He wondered how long it would be before she simply left. Who could live with a werewolf. A killer one at that, he amended mentally, aware of what he'd done for his friends but still not able to feel anything about it. It felt unreal to him. He'd have to see later, but right now, he needed to try to be strong for Nina. Being strong. That wasn't something he was very good at. The silence was deafening and he couldn't think of a single thing to say which wouldn't sound trite or off-hand, neither of which were good for this kind of situation. Normally, he would be trying to form the words before he had formed the thought, a habit he was trying hard to break but had been so far unsuccessful. But here, now, in his room with the woman he loved dearly, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Still on full sensory overload, he could almost swim in Nina's scent, the wheaty smell of the natural shampoo she used mingled with the sweet smell of the lemon soap on her skin, none of that could hold a candle to her natural scent which always came through underneath. That sustaining smell of living, human flesh – so different to the slightly dead smell of Mitchell, or the barely detectable scent of ozone from Annie.

Though this morning, even the comforting crumb of Nina's redolence seemed corrupted. She smelt a little like he himself did. Though, looking at it, she had spent a lot of time with him in wolf form, which no-one had ever done before. The wolf musk had rubbed off on her temporarily, it seemed. , George didn't have to strain to hear the clanking of sthingys downstairs, could smell the fresh tea and the small crack as Annie broke the seal on their last jar of instant coffee.

The detached, careful part of him made a mental note to add coffee to the weeks shopping list. This was the part of himself that, unbeknownst to anyone, had kept him sane. This rational part which was so often drowned out during every-day life, had kept him from taking his own life despite the dark thoughts that raged inside him on the long, lonely, cold nights. The rational side of him which preferred order to chaos and neatness over disorder had also embodied the strongest parts of his faith. Faith in himself, trust in Mitchell and Annie who were, in point of fact, the only things he had left to believe in aside from a God he often felt had turned His back on him. Yet, this absurdly rational mind of his told him that God existed, that he was this way for a reason and he had not been abandoned. That was why he had Mitchell and Annie, and now Nina.

Though, right now, George felt lost, adrift. Could he ever really expect Nina, or anyone, to love him in spite of this? That was all he really wanted, acceptance and love but he was beginning to think by the way Nina was keeping her distance that he was about to lose her just as he had Julia, not once but twice. Was it really too much to ask for someone other than Mitchell and Annie to accept him?

“So that was your big secret.” Nina said softly, matter-of-factly breaking into his thoughts.

George, sitting to her right with his knees drawn to his chest with one of the cushions resting against his shins, nodded. He was looking at her but seemed lost and afraid, yet not as much as she expected. He hadn't tried to embrace her or anything they would normally do but for that she was grateful – she didn't think she could bear to have her right arm move at the moment. He was watching her with bright but distant eyes. “That was... is it.”

“Why... why didn't you tell me? I told you, you can talk to me about anything.” She couldn't help it, she was unable to keep the accusatory tone from her voice, but the flinch away that it inspired in George made her feel instantly guilty. “Why did you keep it from me?”

He stared down toward the cushion at his feet. “I-I'm sorry.” He met her gaze, gauging her reaction. “But w-would you really have believed it unless you'd seen it?”

On that point, she had to concede. “No. No I probably wouldn't.” She offered a smile in spite of the situation. “But preferring that I'd think you were a paedo? Honestly.” George snorted with a suppressed laugh and looked at her. There was something different about him. She's not seen that in his eyes for a long time – hope. The brief glimpse died almost as soon as she saw it.

George regarded her and all humour faded. His eyes flicked to every part of her face, her hair, her body like he was memorising every detail. “It was something more... “ He frowned, searching for the term. “More normal than the truth.”

“Paedo's aren't normal, George. Not normal at all.” Nina sighed, actually understanding what he meant but still too tense to stop her emotional armour of sarcasm and anger from kicking in. “So how long have you, um, had this?”

“Two and a half years.” This time he made no attempt to look at her. Instead, he found his trainers, which were peeking out from under the cushion, far more interesting. “Mitchell found me and saved my life. He... without him, I'd have been dead long ago.” George drew a shaky breath, reformed his tempestuous thoughts into some semblance of order. “Thats why I was in that room with.. with him” The way George said “him” made it clear he wasn't referring to Mitchell any more.

“Who was he?” Nina asked suddenly.

“He was a vampire. Mitchell knows him, Herrick I think his name is.” George paused, clearly talking about any if this was difficult for him. As difficult as she found it to speak of the things her ex-boyfriend had done to her, Nina realised with a jolt. “Was. He was high up in rank among the vampires. He, he's the one who tried to kill Mitchell the other day. He would have killed me too, and Annie. Mitchell was going to fight him so Annie and I could have a couple of days head start to get away. I... Nina, Mitchell's done so much for me. He's my best friend, I'm closer to him than I ever was to any of my brothers. He's been good to me and vampires aren't normally good to people like.. people like me.” George licked his lips, stemming the sudden flow of verbal diarrhoea he had suddenly developed – he needed her to understand. “I couldn't let him or Annie die. I had to... do something.”

“Annie's a ghost. She's already dead.” Nina blurted.

“Ghosts can still be killed. And Annie's so nice, she doesn't deserve to be murdered again.” He sounded defensive and slightly offended.

Nina held up her hands, realising that she'd overstepped a mark. “I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. I didn't mean anything.” George nodded his understanding. This would be a bewildering series of events for her, he had to take that into account with Nina right now. Before he too could apologise for speaking so sharply, his girlfriend spoke again. “So you decided to take him on all by yourself to look after them.” George nodded but didn't immediately interrupt Nina. “And broke up with me because... because...”

“Because you're too good a person to be brought into this... madness.” George finished. “You don't deserve it. And I don't deserve you.”

Nina sighed, she heard the watery waver in Georges voice but also heard those bloody words again. “You don't think I should get a say in this. Again. Every time, you keep pushing me away. Face to face is bad enough, but at least it shows character. But this?” She drew the crumpled letter out of her jacket pocket, the jacket she only now realised she was still wearing. “You thought this was the best way to dump me?!”

George quietly accepted her admonishments. She was right. Of course she was. “I only had a few hours to arrange everything and... if I-I saw you, I might not have been able to... to, to do what needed to be done.” He swallowed and remained still, looking anywhere but at her. He frowned, lost in thought, as Nina shifted uncomfortably.

“What... what did Mitchell mean about the wolf backing down?” George asked after a moment, regarding Nina curiously and with an uncharacteristic intensity.

Mitchell had explained to her last night that George never remembered anything he did in his wolf state and, if he or Annie knew anything, they didn't tell him in any kind of detail. On this, he was particularly insistent because, he explained, George was sensitive on the point

She explained cautiously how he had stopped battering the door of the dungeon when she went near the peephole and stared at her for a long moment before moving away and quietening down considerably. George looked her up and down sympathetically.

“I'm sorry you had to find out like this. To.. to go through what you've did last night .” He reached out to touch her but Nina pulled her injured arm away. George stopped, hand hovering in mid air for an instant then withdrew, curling his fingers up and pressing his lips together unsteadily.