Hey there guys! This is my second Being Human fic that I wrote in the middle of the night. Really, again, it's just for my own personal feelings. It's not proofread, sorry. But I think it's still good anyways!
Leave some reviews and let me know!
It's definitely a sad one, that's for sure.
I was getting teary eyed while writing it.
/3
Even though death was expected, it was always surprising. It was no different for Mitchell. He walked into Honolulu Heights, ready to die by the hands of his best friend. He had said his goodbyes, spoke straight from the heart that people said vampires didn't have anymore. He was ready to go...but then they were interrupted. No one had a damn clue who the guy was, but he just barged in their home, acting like he owned the place. Telling Mitchell that he would be his attack dog...
Those words resonated George's ears. He knew what would happen if Mitchell were to do that. He knew how his friend would be...and he couldn't let that happen. Lifting the stake that he had dropped to ground when the man barged in, he raised it up, thinking. Was this really what he wanted to do? And the man even asked that. A million thoughts ran through the werewolves mind but he managed to push them all away and come up with one final answer.
Yes it was.
Quickly, he spun around on his heels and stabbed the stake deep into his best friends chest, practically cringing at the sound. Instantly, George's lip began to quiver as he saw Mitchell's look of bewilderment. But soon, it became a very subtle smile. The vampire was...happy. "I'm doing this because I love you." George said quietly, keeping his gaze on his best friend.
"I know." Mitchell answered. And he did know. It wasn't out of malice or fright. It was out of love that he killed him. And God, did Mitchell appreciate it. If he had the time, he would've let the werewolf know that. But sadly, he was soon nothing but dust.
It was another sleepless night for George Sands as he thought about that night. The night he killed his best friend. He still wasn't over it. Nor did he think that he ever would. Mitchell was the best friend a guy could ask for. Although he struggled every damn day of life not to snap, he still would help he and Annie as much as he could. Though it didn't seem like much at the time, George now truly appreciated everything the vampire did for him. He helped him accept who he was, which helped him find the love of his life. He would never be able to thank him enough for that...
Slowly rolling out of bed, the werewolf threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before heading downstairs and out the front door of their retro home. Taking a seat on the front steps, he tucked his arms in and stared rather blankly ahead at the fence in front of him. His eyes shifted down and settled upon the stone they had engraved for Mitchell. They didn't have a body so they decided that engraving a small stone themselves would be enough for them. There wasn't much on it. Just his name and the words 'Friend. Lover. Protector.' The three of them felt that the proper way to describe the vampire.
George stared at that stone practically every night for God knows how long. He just missed Mitchell so much. Especially now that they had an upcoming war on their hands, George was absolutely petrified. How would they do this without him? He was the fighter. He knew what to do. They were just...2 werewolves and a ghost that just met the supernatural world. Mitchell had lived it for more than a hundred years.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice anyone walking down the street until he heard them thud to the ground and gasp for breath. Instantly, the werewolf got to his feet and ran over to the man, placing his hand on his chest. "Sir! Just hold on!" George stated to the dying man that obviously didn't have a chance. He was having a heart attack right in front of his eyes and there was no one else around to help. There was no way George could even make it back to the house to call for an ambulance. "I'm so sorry. So sorry." He whispered, grasping the mans hand as he clawed for werewolf.
It wasn't long until the old man had fallen still before his eyes and George was left there, wiping a few tears that had fallen from his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the body in front of him that he didn't even notice the bright light beside him it intensified. Standing up almost instantly, there he saw the old man next to his door. "Here." The old man said and held his hand out, holding a letter.
"What?"
"I think this is for you."
George's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he grabbed the envelope and read the outside, noting his name. "But-"
"You are George, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes...b-but how...?"
"He said you were." The old man stated with a smile and stepped through the doors threshold with nothing more to say. Within a moment, the door closed and disappeared, leaving the male in the middle of the sidewalk with a body and a letter addressed to him. Swallowing a lump that had grown in his throat, he walked inside and called for an ambulance, saying the man had a heart attack in front of him. With fifteen minutes, the body had been picked up, a police report was made and George was stepping back inside Honolulu Heights, the letter still in his hand.
"What's that, George?" Nina asked, standing at the bottom of the steps, half awake but still able to see the envelope.
"It's nothing. Just go back to sleep. I'll be up in a bit."
Nina stared at her boyfriend for more moments before making her way back up the stairs, leaving him alone once again. His eyes stared down at the letter, wondering if he should really read it or not. It is addressed to me. What can it hurt? He asked himself as he carefully ripped it open, pulling out the paper inside. Rather than unfolding it, he just stared at it. He knew what he wanted it to be...but the likelihood was just so far off that he didn't want to be disappointed. It's probably just the mans grocery list, George. He told himself as he finally unfolded it.
But it wasn't.
It was a letter.
From Mitchell.
George,
I hope you're doing well. I'm sure you are. You've always been able to pick up the pieces pretty well when things go ary. Just gotta make a list, right? Those help with everything. I hope Annie's doing well too. I miss her so much...
I'm doing as well as I can. Not much of an afterlife I have. Just been waiting around really. Not sure for what...but I am. I'll know when it comes.
I'm really writing this letter to let you know that it's okay, George. I know you're upset about me. But please, don't be. I wanted this, remember? I wanted you to save the world. A good guy like you deserves the title. Isn't that something you'll want to be able to tell your daughter?
I wasn't able to tell you this at the time, but I appreciate what you did. When I was told I was going to be their attack dog, I was scared. Oh God, was I scared. When it comes to them, you can't say no. You do what they tell you and if they would've told me to kill, I would've. I would've hated it, but I still would have done it.
You saved me from a world of regret and self torture.
You saved the world from a murderer.
Thank you so much.
I hope this can help put your mind at ease. I didn't write this letter to rehash any painful memories of that night.
I'm doing this because I love you.
-Mitchell
Instantly, tears fell from George's eyes as he finished the letter and he placed his face into his hands. As much as the letter hurt to read, it did help. Mitchell wasn't gone forever. He wasn't bitter. He wasn't angry. He was somewhere. Content. Waiting. Hopefully for Annie, Nina and himself. One day they'd be reunited. It was something to look forward to, in a sense. It made the thought of death a little bit more bareable.
Folding up the letters as he continued sob on the couch, he placed the letter on the coffee table and headed back upstairs to Nina. Before walking in the room, he wiped his eyes on his shirt and stepped inside, instantly crawling in bed and wrapping his arms around his wife. She stirred slightly and let out a quiet 'mmm' as he held her. "You okay?" She asked.
"I'm starting to be." He told her, truthfully. The letter was able to help him move on, which was what he really needed. "You know, I can't wait to tell our child about the time I saved the world..."
End.