It was three in the morning when Mitchell got home. Not the latest he'd ever been, but late enough that he fully expected to see Annie standing by the door, arms crossed, with a disapproving look. And even though he'd planned to complain that she was treating him like a child, he was disappointed when she wasn't there.
He looked around. She was in the house, he could tell. The house felt different when she wasn't there.
"Annie?"
Nothing but silence. He shrugged, and went to the empty kitchen. He grabbed an open beer from the fridge and took a swig. Maybe she was mad at him. He couldn't really blame her if she was. George was spending more and more time with Sam, looking for a new place to live without them. He didn't like it either, but he couldn't be home all the time to fill the void. He just couldn't.
He made his way upstairs, listening as he went, but still, nothing but silence. She was probably sitting in a corner of one of the rooms sulking. He thought about searching for her, but he knew she knew he was home. If she wanted to be like that, so be it.
He went into his room and turned on the light. There she was, lying in his bed, eyes closed as if she was sleeping. But of course she wasn't.
She opened her eyes. They just popped opened, as if she had been waiting, which, of course, she had.
"Hey," he said, as he pulled off his shoes.
"Hey," she said.
"You OK?"
She sighed, and pulled herself up on her elbows. "I'm OK. A little lonely is all. George is staying with Sam again. I was hoping you'd come home."
He nodded and pulled his jeans off, leaving him in long johns and a t-shirt. Nothing she hadn't seen before. He slid into the bed next to her. "I know it's hard getting used to George moving on. Or... whatever he's doing. But we have to."
"I have no intention of getting used to it," she said.
Mitchell laughed. "Annie -"
"No," she said. "I don't like that Sam. I don't like her."
He shook his head. He'd never known Annie to dislike anyone. Well, no one who hadn't killed her or slept with her fiancé, anyway. "What has Sam ever done to you?"
"George is still in love with Nina, Mitchell. We both know that."
"Well, she's gone," he said. "What are you gonna do?"
"I'll think of something," she said, in all seriousness.
He stretched and settled in. "So, what, are you going to watch me sleep?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. I haven't seen you in like... eighteen hours."
"Eighteen hours," he laughed. "Wow."
"It's a long time, Mitchell," she said.
"It's really not that long," He said, looking at her.
"Well, what were you doing all night?"
"Just... stuff."
"Oh, Mitchell..."
"No, nothing like that," he said. "More like... it's sort of a support group. To stay clean."
"Oh."
"Yeah, it's good. I'm trying to help other people, other vampires. It's good."
"Well," she said, "if you're helping people, that's good."
"I really am."
She paused. "I thought maybe you were out with your new friend..."
He propped himself up on one elbow. "Eh... I don't think that's gonna work out."
"Why?"
"I don't know... we don't really have anything in common..."
"You both work at the hospital."
"I know, but... I don't know, I feel like we've got nothing to talk about."
"Oh that's stupid, Mitchell, you've got loads of great stories!"
"Oh, and which one should I tell her? The one where I went to dinner with Marlene Dietrich, or the one where I accidentally started that fire in Chicago?"
"Well," she said, "Rule One, never talk about other women on a date."
He laughed, and ran his hands through his hair. "I just feel so... old... sometimes." He stared up at the ceiling. "I was thinking about it... If I was the age I was when I turned right now - the age people think I am - I would have been born in like 1983. That's insane."
"I was born in 1985."
"Yeah, I can't even fathom that. That's insane. You never shared the earth with John Lennon, or Elvis, or... I would have been a little baby when..." he thought for a moment. "I don't know, when Live Aid happened..."
"Live Aid?" She laughed. The thought of a vampire supporting a giant benefit concert to help people struck her funny. "Really? What, did you watch ironically?"
"What? I was there. That was an incredible show. I didn't pay for it, obviously."
"Obviously."
"God," he said, "I felt like I was old then..."
Annie nodded absentmindedly. "Oh! Did you go to Woodstock?"
"Woodstock?" He laughed. "No, no... well, actually, I went to the one in 1999..."
She laughed. "What?"
"No, seriously, 1999, it was out of control. I was there with Herrick and these other guys... we started these fires to distract people, you know? It turned into an all-out riot. All these drunk college kids got blamed for everything, too..."
Annie didn't especially want to hear more. "Mitchell, there was no Woodstock in 1999."
"Look it up!" He said. He paused, and lit a cigarette. "Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?"
She sighed. "Nothing," she said. "A big fat nothing. And now no one can see me again."
"I can see you."
She made a face. "You don't count." She shifted to face him. "Oh! I did do something! George and I got Hugh back together with his ex-girlfriend!" She smiled triumphantly.
"Hugh?"
"You know, my old boss, at the pub..."
"Oh yeah. His name was Hugh?"
"Yes. He's such a sweetheart. And he had a crush on me, too."
"I bet." He flicked an ash in the ashtray by the bed.
"He did! He really did. It was nice."
He shrugged. "Why did you get him back with his ex, then?"
"Well, he stopped being able to see me. And, I don't know... Hugh was sweet, but he wasn't meant for me. But I wanted him to be happy." She smiled. "And now he is."
"Well, that's good. He's lucky to have met you."
She nodded. "I'll get Nina back with George, too." She ignored the slight roll of his eyes, "I think I'm through with men, though. I can't be with a human guy, obviously..."
"Obviously."
"And ghost guys... I mean, after Gilbert, they just seem... inconstant."
He thought for a moment. "Whatever happened to Gilbert? I always liked that guy."
She gave him a look. "You know what happened to him," she said. "He got his door and crossed over."
"Ah. That's a shame."
"He fell in love with me, and his door appeared."
Mitchell nodded slowly. "OK..." he said, looking at her. "Everyone isn't in love with you, Annie."
She sat up straight. "Of course not, Mitchell, but Gilbert was. Falling in love with me was his unfinished business!"
"Oh, well, I doubt it had to be you..."
"What?"
"No, just... Gilbert? That would never have worked out."
"He was a wonderful person, I'll have you know-"
"He was completely pretentious, and more than a little annoying."
"Then why did you introduce us?"
"I just thought you should meet another ghost," he said. "He's an OK guy, but hardly your soul mate or something."
"I never said he was." Annie stood up indignantly. "Why do you always do this?"
"What?"
"You always put my friends down!"
"Oh, I do not."
"Uhh, Gilbert... Sykes... Saul..."
"Wait, I was completely right about Saul!"
"Maybe you were, Mitchell," she said. "And maybe I didn't feel the same way about Gilbert. But he was there for me when I really needed someone to just... love me."
He looked at her in silence for a moment. "OK," he said. "Well... good for Gilbert." He stamped out his half-smoked cigarette.
"Yes," she said. "Good for him." She drifted around the room in thought, oblivious that Mitchell was still watching her. "I think I'll go down and make some tea," she said, finally. "Would you like some?"
"It's almost 4 am, Annie," Mitchell sighed.
"Too late for you, child of the night?"
"Yeah well," he said, settling in under the covers, "this child of the night would like to get a few hours of sleep before I have to go to work." He smiled lightly and motioned for her to turn off the light. "I sleep better when you're out there moving about, anyway."
She paused and looked at him from the doorway before turning off the light. After a few seconds, he opened one eye, reminding her to turn it off. She flipped the switch and smiled. She didn't care what anyone said, 18 hours was a long time.
A/N: There's a little nod to Near Dark with the Chicago Fire line. For history buffs, I will note that the Great Chicago Fire happened before Mitchell was born, so he wasn't referring to that one, but, perhaps, another famous fire in 1923 that led to the escape of many "criminally insane" asylum inmates.