A/N: Exactly a week later and here I am with another update. Warning for this one though, there are some really quite horrific bits and some sad bits too. I felt I needed it to be horrific to really get across how awful it is but I promise I'm not trying to shock or offend anyone.
Secondly, thank you so much for all your support for the last chapter. I got five really nice reviews which was lovely, thank you so much to you five. I love you all so much! I'd really really like it if I could get as many this time, perhaps even more! I won't be one of those cruel authors that makes you get a certain amount of reviews to upload the next chapter, I'm just going to have faith in you lot that you'll do the right and review so don't prove me wrong!
Finally, thanks to the BBC for making Being Human, I don't own it.
Enjoyxxx

Mitchell and Annie glanced at each other, waiting for George's inevitable cry of realisation.

"Nina! Nina…?"

They heard George's tone fall as he caught sight of the young woman. "Nina? What happened? Why are you covered in blood? What's in that blanket?" There was a moment of silence followed by George's cries. "No. No. No… Mitchell? Annie?"

Mitchell took Annie's hand and pulled her through the door into the room. Nina hadn't moved, despite George dithering around her as he grew more and more frantic.

"Mitchell," George's voice was slow and steady, as if he was hanging on to his last shred of sanity, "What happened to her?"

Mitchell began slowly, "George... I'm so sorry."

"There was nothing we could do…" Annie said, sounding more like she was begging. She tightened her grip on Mitchell's hand. "She was just lying there in the basement screaming. There was all this blood… The baby was so cold. We didn't know what to do..."

"Nina… What happened?" George fought to control his voice; he knew if he let it break, he might never stop crying.

But Nina didn't respond.

George turned to Mitchell, his voice rising to new tones of desperation he didn't even know he had in him, "What happened to my baby!"

"He was dead already, he had been a while… There was nothing we could do. I'm so sorry, George," Mitchell tried to remain calm while winding his arm round Annie, trying to stop her falling apart.

"So you just wrapped him in a blanket and gave him to her like there was nothing wrong?" George practically shouted, making Annie jump.

"She wouldn't let go of him! We did our best!" Mitchell protested, his hand reaching to sooth the shivering ghost.

"Why didn't you help him! Why didn't you take him to hospital? Why did you just leave him? Why-" George stopped dead.

The silence hung over the room like a thick fog. No one dared to say anything for fear of George's response. So it was he who finally spoke.

In a strangled tone he whispered, "It's a 'him'?"

And then he burst into tears.

George's howls of anguish filled the room as he sunk down to the floor. For a whole minute he just sat there, his sobs relentless. Every fibre of his body was wrapped in grief. He was drowning in the heart wrenching sorrow that seemed almost to weigh him down. He was shrouded in despair. It clung to him like tar. Huge tears streamed down his face like endless waterfalls. It felt as if it could go on forever.

Then a voice broke through the tears. A voice so ragged and tortured that no one could've recognised it as human had they not seen her speak.

"George… Stop," Nina said softly.

And George stopped.

"Annie," Mitchell said softly, realising their need for privacy. The ghost seemed almost frozen. Mitchell took her hand, reanimating her, and led her out of the room.

George and Nina looked at each other, his tear-filled eyes meeting her dead ones. Almost unconsciously, George stretched his hand out towards the tiny bundle cradled protectively in Nina's arms. When his hand met the blanket she flinched, but didn't stop him. He reached for the tiny hand, just visible through swaddling.

George took a sharp breathe as his warm finger met with their baby's ice cold hand.

His voice trembled with tears, "Can I hold him?"

She hesitated before giving the slightest nod. With a tiny tearless sob, Nina opened her arms, allowing George to take the precious baby. As soon as it left her arms she seemed to crumple in on herself, but her eyes were still fixed on the ice cold child.

"Oh Nina… What happened?" George asked once again.

Nina allowed the question to hang in the air a moment before she offered an answer, "I don't know…"

"Please," George almost begged.

"I woke up and he was just…" Nina was trembling. She continued, the next part sounding almost like an apology, "He was so tiny George, and so cold…"

Pain seemed to rip across her face. When she didn't speak she could almost keep the memory out. But as soon as she mentioned it, grief so fresh flooded her body, making it impossible to forget. The memory burnt through her like fire, destroying everything in its path.

The first thing Nina had been aware of that morning when she awoke was pain. It was the most agonising, excruciating pain slicing through her abdomen. She cried out involuntarily. It was unbearable, like nothing she had ever felt before. Her hands flew to her stomach, applying pressure, trying desperately to stop the torturous throbbing. But she slipped. Her hand reached past her stomach for the floor and brushed a pool of warm sticky liquid that seemed to surround her.

She struggled to her knees, vision blurred with pain, but she saw it. A deep crimson painted the floor around her.

Blood.

It was in her hair. Covered her hands. She knew where it had come from instantly. Her senses, still heightened by her transformation, recognised the scent immediately. The blood was her own. And there was only one reason it could be there.

Nina screamed as tears began pouring down her face. She twisted her body so she was sitting up. But there, in front of her lay a tiny, tiny baby. Its white skin was tinted blue and horrifically stained with red blood. It was so small. She felt the pain fade in her middle to almost nothing. It didn't matter anymore. It was like an unimportant buzz in the back of her mind.

She struggled desperately towards it and with shaking hands she lifted its tiny bloody form and pulled it in close.

"Baby?" she whispered, almost unable to believe the truth. "Please breathe… Please, please, please. Open your eyes sweetheart, open them for Mummy. Please, sweetie. Please?"

Through tears she began shouting at the lifeless child. "Stop this! Stop this now! Stop it! Please! Please! Please, please, please. Don't!"

Her pleas dissolved quickly in to sobs, shaking her whole body. She pulled the tiny limp child closer so it was wrapped in the warmth of her body. She screamed over and over, rocking back and forth, her shrieks ringing through the building.

When they had been sold the house they had been told the basement was soundproof. This, they had discovered later, wasn't exactly the truth. It was soundproof to an extent, but not enough to block the sound of Nina's cries. Mitchell and Annie heard them instantly and came running.

"Nina?" Mitchell shouted as he pushed the door open.

"What's wro-" Annie stopped dead as she saw all the blood and subsequently the young woman sat in the middle of it clutching a tiny body.

Nina screamed again, her pleas no longer coherent.

Silent tears rolled down George's face as he rocked the lifeless baby gently in his arms. He was so tiny, but yet so perfect. His little fingers, little toes, little nose. There was the slightest wisp of feather soft hair on his head, but that too was matted with blood.

"I can't…" George struggled with the words. He felt more tears trickle down his cheeks and, giving the child back to Nina, he ran from the room.

Mitchell and Annie were stood just by the door, his arm wound round her shoulder, talking in hushed voices. They instantly fell silent and watched as George ran up the stairs.

"Go and watch Nina," Mitchell told Annie. "I have to speak to George."

Annie didn't move, desperation filling her eyes.

"I love you," Mitchell said softly. It was the only thing he knew for sure would give her any kind of reassurance.

Annie nodded silently, mouthing what Mitchell could just make out as: "You too."

Trusting that she was going to be okay, he mounted the stairs to George's room.

Annie, meanwhile, approached Nina slowly. She held a cup of tea in her hand. Annie stopped a few paces behind the chair, frozen.

Nina still hadn't moved but her body was turned in more than before and she was whispering softly to the baby in her arms, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Mitchell had told her just to keep an eye her but Annie couldn't bear to just stand and watch her. She had never seen Nina like this. When she'd first become a werewolf it was Annie she had confided in, she knew what she'd been through. She'd been a mess, but she'd found the strength to get through it. Annie didn't know where that strength had come from; it was something she'd never had while she'd been alive. Nina always seemed to manage, somehow or another. But, Annie had never known Nina to fall apart this way before. It frightened her. It upset the balance of everything she'd grown used to. Watching her now, she was a wreck. Tears stained her pale face and her whole body shook with each word whispered softly to the baby. And Annie wasn't sure how she would ever pull through this.

"Nina?" Annie said softly after a couple of minutes. Nina jumped and fell silent once more.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Annie apologised, setting the tea down on the table and kneeling next to her. "How are you feeling?"

Nina turned her head slightly to look at Annie and nodded blankly. The ghost was unsure she had even heard the question properly.

Annie offered her a small smile. "Can I get you anything? Toast, maybe?"

Nina shook her head wordlessly. They sat in silence for a while, Annie desperately searching for something to fill the gap. But it was Nina who spoke first.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with tears. "Why him?"

"I… I don't know…" Annie was almost afraid to speak. "I'm so sorry Nina."

"But he was so beautiful… So perfect... He wasn't meant to…" she trailed off, rubbing her finger softly in a circular motion on the top of the little boy's head. She looked almost enchanted.

Annie nodded in understanding, "I'll be one minute."

She rose to her feet and padded softly across to the bar. She filled a bowl with water and soap and took a cloth. Kneeling at Nina's feet, Annie took her hands and began to clean the blood off them.

When her hands were clean, Nina wordlessly took the cloth from Annie and slowly, with great care, began to unwrap the tiny child. And ever so gently she wiped the cloth over his body, cleaning him. Annie watched with a mixture of awe and anguish. When the baby was clean, Nina looked up to meet Annie's eye.

"Annie, he's so cold… Help me," Nina whimpered. Annie looked back at her, searching her mind for some words of reassurance to offer the bereaved woman. But really, in this situation, there were no words strong enough stitch the wounds. There was only one thing she could think of, it wouldn't help but it might make things just a tiny bit more bearable.

Annie nodded to Nina and disappeared suddenly from the room. But within seconds she had returned, holding a yellow plastic bag. She opened the bag and took out the white baby grow she had bought yesterday.

As she saw it Nina's eyes widened, almost unsure what to make of it. For a second Annie was frightened. What if she'd just made it worse? But soon the uncertainty in the woman's eye's dissolved and she stretched out her shaking hand to take the garment.

She gently dressed the baby, almost as if he was made of china. When it was done she wrapped him back in her arms, cradling him gently. Annie felt tears trickle down her cheeks again; she bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to hold it together.

"Thank you," Nina said. And Annie swore she saw her eyes warm, just a little, for the first time that morning. Annie gave her a small smile and folded her arm round Nina, resting her head on her shoulder.

They sat in silence together for what felt like an eternity, comforted by each other's presence.

Finally, Nina spoke. "Annie, I have to tell you something…"

Mitchell knocked tentatively on the door of George's room. There was no response. He pushed the door open gently. George was sat on Nina's side of the bed, staring it the wall blankly.

"George?"

George jumped at the sound of Mitchell's voice before mumbling, "What?"

"You need to talk to her George."

"I… I tried..."

"She needs you, George. More than ever."

"I can't…" George whimpered.

"She needs your support; you've got to be strong, for her. She'll never cope with this if you don't help her." Mitchell took a deep breath.

"But I don't know what to do, Mitchell."

"Yes you do. You're the only one who can really understand how she's feeling now. You are the only other person on this Earth who has also lost that little boy. Talk to her," Mitchell told him compassionately.

"But I…" George protested.

Mitchell simply looked at him and shook his head sadly.

George paused, as if searching for the right words. But instead he rose shakily to his feet, nodded and gave Mitchell a small, tearful smile. "Thank you."

Suddenly a cry came from downstairs.

"Mitchell!" Annie shouted; her voice laced with terror.

"Annie?" Mitchell shouted back. He knew that tone of voice. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He ran down the stairs followed closely by George. Annie met them at the door. Her eyes were wide, filled with a frantic fear.

"Nina's still bleeding, badly. We don't have any choice Mitchell; we have to take her to hospital."

A/N: Thoughts?