Spoiler Alert: Definitely spoilers for those who haven't seen season 2 finale or the "Annie Broadcasts". A/U Season 3. No spoilers for season 3, all original ideas I had before Lia aired in the UK, just haven't had the chance to write (see A/N). General spoilers for the series as a whole.
Summary: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Mitchell follows Annie into hell, determined to save her from an unjust fate. But Death doesn't like to be second guessed. Will the housemates be able to survive the consequences?
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't claim ownership of the characters, the show, or anything else, or else Season 3 would have run like this fic and not how it's going right now (or so I've seen through various set pics and watching episode 1). I did borrow the characters but I don't claim any legal right. We all know who really owns this show, so please don't sue. I don't mean any harm and am not profiting in any way from writing this (ok, maybe a bit because I'm a review whore, but who can blame me on that one?).
A/N: Alright, for those who haven't seen season three, or have and are thinking 'you ripped this off the episode' I can tell you now I have had this in my head since I saw the finale of season 2 and heard season 3 was going to deal with rescuing Annie from hell. After all, if you go into hell, don't you think there's going to be consequences to the actions? Big, bad ones? And this thought had been spinning around in my head, begging to be made into a story but I didn't have a plot until about a week before Lia (3x01) aired in the UK, I had this dream that pretty much starts off this fic and a few selected scenes later that inspired it. I have seen the first episode to season three and that is it, as I'm waiting for it on BBCAmerica but really wanted episode one to see if I could pull anything to help develop my idea, but really, it had everything I thought of and went in a completely different direction that I wanted it to (though I love the ending). So, this fanfic was officially born and I only got the chance to start writing this week. So, for those of you concerned about spoilers, I promise, there's nothing here that's going to spoil episode one of season three. Without further ado…enjoy!
Please note, there is an intentional POV change. Please don't review yelling at me about changing halfway through. There was a reason for it. I think you'll get it once you read through. The remainder should be in first person.
Fight of Your Life
Chapter 1
"Mitchell, you don't have to do this. Not this way." George's high pitched voice pierced the air and caused the man inside the predator to hesitate in his actions.
The predator inside him ignored the thing that talked to him. It was only focused on the task before him. About the pulse of the carotid artery in his victims throat, of the elixir of life running through his veins, the intoxicating smell overcoming the filth and stench and appealing to the darker side of his nature. Oh yes, the predator thought this was it.
This was necessary.
Just one quick bite and both the man and the predator got what they wanted. Even the victim would be going to a better place. Death would have to be better than living like a poor bum on the streets.
"Mitchell! Please!"
The predator glared at the interruption. He cocked his head and regarded the one who was interrupting his moment. He could take him. Remove the interruption of the mutt before him. He could have both. He could take them both out. He'd double the chances to get the door; double the deep hunger of the predator within.
"Mitchell, there are other ways!"
"Go away, George!" The man yelled, momentarily overtaking the predator and recognizing his friend and not the insignificant annoying mutt before him. The predator knew he could take him. The man knew he couldn't let it.
"Don't you dare do this, Mitchell!" George continued, stepping further into the alley. "Don't you dare kill this man in her name!"
"Or what George?" The man snapped, struggling against the predators need to attack. The predator did not like being interrupted. It wanted to rip the mutt's throat out, bath in its blood and drink that of the homeless man currently in his grip. Oh the man knew it was wrong, but he also reveled in the free feeling the predator did, knowing that, at least for a moment, the deep hunger would ease and slip away. "What are you going to do?"
"You know Annie wouldn't want you to do this," George stated, his eyes pleading with his best friend, the man that was currently allowing his dark side, his literal demon, take control.
"Annie's in hell, George!" He snapped, feeling his human feelings beginning to resurface at the pain of discussing his love's fate. The predator fought to remain in control, but the man and his feelings were stronger than the predator's want for blood, death, and mayhem. "I don't think she'll protest one stupid homeless man kicking the bucket to save her!"
"She wouldn't want you to kill him," George stated, his words cutting into his best friend, causing the man to fully emerge from the predator's hold.
My thoughts had been of the blood, the high of the kill and the powerful feeling of knowing that life was in my hands. That the predator inside of me could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and there was no stopping him; Nothing but my own humanity when I was strong enough to fight those urges - that powerful need to kill. The high that followed was like no other drug on the planet, but ended almost as quickly as it began. I had a brief moment of horror as I looked at the man in my arms and felt my hands loose their tight grip from the man's throat and torso, his warm body feeling suddenly repulsive instead of seductive against my slightly cooler one.
George let out a breath of relief as I dropped the unconscious homeless man and stared down at him in horror at the thought of Annie and her face if I were to kill this man.
My mind automatically flashed back to the moment when I'd been so high on blood and death, the appalling things the predator had said to her, and her horrified look. The way she called me "something" when she told George to go look at what I'd become.
No.
Annie wouldn't want me to be a killer. But I couldn't think of another way to do this either.
Someone had to die.
That was the only way to get a door to appear to the other side. Without the door, there was no hope of crossing over.
"I can't do this anymore, George." I whispered, staring at the man at my feet, knowing there was no one out there that would miss this person. I had tracked him for over a week and had him looked up in a police database I had an old friend who owed me a favor check. He was a nobody with no one to care about him. Death would truly be a blessing for this man. And I could do it. Oh there was no doubt about it. I could get through the door, cross through "administration" and search for my Annie.
"Mitchell, people die all the time-"
"It's been six months George!" I snapped, removing my gaze from the maybe-victim (verdict was still out if I'd let the predator kill him or not) and glaring at my…best friend. "It's been two months, three weeks, a day, eight hours and forty-eight minutes since we got the broadcast from her losing her mind. It's been three days since she told us they were" I couldn't finish the thought. I could only picture my Annie on the fuzzy broadcasts, hearing her as she tried to remember who she was, listening to her panic and cries when she found out what they were doing to her and not being able to do anything.
No. It had been long enough.
"I know, Mitchell." George stated, tears in his eyes as he stepped forward, closer to his only true friend he ever had.
"I can't," I shook my head. "I need to do something. She'd do the same for us."
"She wouldn't kill anyone."
"She might," I said, a small smile coming to my face and George did the same. We both knew Annie was protective of us. She wasn't a killer though. She wouldn't go that far.
"Don't do this, Mitchell. Let Nina and I help you."
"You can't, George." I said with a sigh. "We've been over this."
"No, Mitchell, we offer to help and you snap and go sulk for three days. We're not just"
"You're not dead, George!" I yelled. "You physically, cannot, cross over! Even if you wanted to!"
"Neither are you, Mitchell!" George yelled back and I laughed a bitter laugh at how naïve my best friend was. I let myself forget that he doesn't see me like the rest of my kind. He sees me as Mitchell, as the guy who thought it might be fun to get a house with a werewolf. He didn't think of me as the soldier who died nearly 100 years earlier to be the man I was now.
"Technically, no." I stated. "But how do you think I got this way, George?" George looked like he wanted to argue but I cut him off. He had to understand. If he crossed over, there was no telling what would happen to him. The living cannot see the doors. They can't know what lies waiting on the other side. It would drive them mad thinking about it.
"I was there, George." I whispered. "The night I died, before I became…" I paused and gestured at myself before continuing. "I was dead. I went through the door and…" I shuddered at the memory of happened between the moments of my death and my … rebirth. I still had nightmares about it. "It doesn't matter. Point is, you can't. I have to go alone."
"How do you know you can?"
"I…it's been done before." I stated.
"So, what, there's a book titled 'How to Get Into Hell'?"
"It's…a bit more like a rumor," George looked like he was about to blow and I winced at the thought of his voice rising several octaves like it did when he was stressed and upset. "BUT! The theory is sound. Only someone dead, or undead, can cross over and come back."
"Mitchell, this is starting to sound even crazier than"
"George, you have to trust me."
"I do."
"Good."
There was a beat of silence and I looked away from my best friend. He couldn't know how unsure about this I was. Sure this was the only way to get Annie back and I am willing to do whatever it takes. I don't know how long it'll take. It's not like there is a book or a map for hell. I don't know what will happen once I get through that door. I don't belong there and the Gatekeepers do not take kindly unwanted visitors. Or, I guess, I would assume they wouldn't. But I couldn't dwell on that now. I needed someone to die, callous as it sounds.
"Don't kill someone." George stated and I looked back up at my friend. I opened my mouth to argue but George cut me off before I could protest. "Nina's back to work at that hospital tomorrow," He paused. "There has to be an ICU wing or nursing home we can start watching."
"George"
"No Mitchell. I won't let you be a killer again." George stated firmly and I had to look away from him, wincing at the implications of his words.
I know George hasn't gotten over what happened to me before Annie disappeared. He hasn't asked what happened, but I he has a good idea and I'm sure his imagination could picture all kinds of horrible things that may fall close to the truth.
"We can't wait much longer, George." I told him, looking him in the eyes, knowing somewhere inside me what I was going to say was the complete truth. I don't know how I know it, but it's there, in my soul. Maybe it's from my brief time there, but something tells me that's not it. It's just instinct. Maybe it's from the predator or maybe it's one of those lessons ingrained from the beginning of time. But everything inside of me was screaming the clock was running – and not in our favor. "Time moves differently there. If we wait too much longer than who knows what kind of state Annie will be in."
"OK," George agreed, looking reluctant. "Let's go home."
He turned around and started to head back down the alley. I started to follow, but the predator made me pause. I turned to look back at my would-be victim.
"Mitchell," George snapped.
I turned my gaze away from the homeless man and followed my friend back to our new "home". George called it home, but it would never be home to me.
Not without Annie.