Disclaimer: Being Human and all its associated characters are owned by the BBC. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit fun.

Authors Note: Ok, so here is the Epilogue/Alternative Happy Ending to this story. If you thought the first bit was fine the way it was, don't read on. If you are a happy ending junkie like myself, this is the place for you. I think I may have made it a bit to fluff at the very end, but you guys tell me. Reviews are textual love!

Also, I realized after the fact, that this is the 50th story I have posted her, so... Yay.

Enjoy and thanks to all of you who reviewed the first chapter.

Homecoming

By Chaimera

Epilogue

John Mitchell sat on the third step up on the stairs, in the home he had fled from years ago and stared at the cracked white tile in the middle of the hallway floor. There was nothing left for him here. There was nothing for him anywhere. Over the years, the vampire community had grown tired of his repeated attempts (and lapses) to get off blood. He was person non grata, forgotten by his own kind. He could rarely decide if he was happy about it or not, but either way, he was left with nothing. And now, with Annie gone, he was sure he had nothing left in the world. He sighed heavily to himself, lifting his head up and glancing at his watch. It was three in the morning. He knew he should leave, but he couldn't summon the energy to move. He was about to rise when a shout from the living room made him jump. He frowned, instantly on guard. He had been sitting there for hours; he would have seen someone enter. He would have heard them.

"Oi, wait. You have to help me." The voice was young, male and had a slight Scottish lilt. "I need your help."

If Mitchell's heart was still beating the voice that answered would have caused it to stop.

"Look, you've found your unfinished business. You have to sort that out yourself. I can't help you with that."

"But Sykes said you would…"

"Oh, Sykes did, did he? Well, you tell him…"

Mitchell had inched down to the bottom step silently and was now peering around the corner, into the living room. She stood with her back to him, gesturing wildly as she told the young man some creative uses for crockery that he could suggest to Sykes. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her rant. Before he realised he had walked out into nearly full view, the young ghost saw him. Scowling, the other ghost stepped forward.

"Hey, I was here first. Get lost."

She tensed and spun around, violet eyes flashing, ready for whomever or whatever was behind her. When she saw who exactly was standing in her hallway her face fell.

"Annie." Her name was like a prayer on Mitchell's lips. And then he was flying backwards, slamming into the kitchen wall. He fell to the floor in heap, the breath knocked out of him. As he attempted to gather himself he could hear Annie shouting.

"Out!"

"But, I need your help and who the hell is he anyway? I was here first!"

Annie's voice was quieter this time, more controlled, and Mitchell recognised it as the voice she used when she was furious.

"Listen, I can't help you. Now, get. Out."

Everything was quiet then, Mitchell's breathing the only sound. He stood, slowly and walked towards the kitchen entryway. Annie stood in the space between the hallway and the living room, her chest heaving, her hair being blown about in a breeze he couldn't feel. When she looked at him, her stare was icy.

"What do you want?"

He frowned. This was not the loving, bubbly girl he had left behind all those years ago. But then, who knew better than he did, that existing unchanging, in an ever changing world can alter a person drastically.

"I thought you were gone." He stepped forward, unable to stand the distance between them. She raised a hand, her eyes flashing again, this time holding a warning. He put up his gloved hands as a sign of peace.

He tried again. "I found you letter, upstairs and… Christ, Annie. I thought I'd never get…"

She cut across him abruptly, her tone cold. "Thought you'd never see me again? You gave up any right to care the minute you left with out so much as a goodbye. Just a note, scribble on the back of a fucking napkin."

He took another tentative step towards her. "I know, Annie. I'm sorry and…"

"Sorry? You left Mitchell." Even though her tone was still far from affectionate, hearing her say his name for the first time sparked some small hope in the vampire. "You left and then George left and I was left alone with nothing. I was nothing. No one could see me, hear me. For years. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Annie let a stray tear escape and Mitchell watched, fascinated, as it rolled down her cheek, dripping of her chin and falling through the air, yet never hitting the ground.

"Annie…"

"No. Leave." There was a finality to her words that chilled him.

"Please."

"I said leave." She took a step forward and he stepped back, his back hitting the wall, aware of the energy that was flowing through the dead woman before him.

"Annie, I can't… I need…" His voice cracked and he was vaguely aware that he was crying. "I think you can help me, save me."

Annie looked at him, and, though her face didn't betray the fact, her hardened heart cracked slightly at the sight of one of the most important men in her life so beaten down by the world. Another tear, unbidden, slid down her cheek.

"Save you? In your note, the one you left when you…" She paused. "In your note, you said you thought Lucy was your salvation. Was she?"

He shook his head.

"Was Josie?"

Again, he shook his head.

"I can't save you Mitchell. No one can, no one but you."

She turned to walk away from him but his hand shot out, grabbing her arm pulling her towards him. "But maybe if we tried again, you could…"

"No!" She was shouting now. "You left! You left me!" And then her mask cracked. The sheer sorrow, the years of loneliness and solitude that Mitchell saw in her face broke his heart.

Too quickly for Annie to comprehend, Mitchell's arms were around her tightly, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She could feel his tears on her skin, and she stood perfectly still as he murmured into her hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Let me make it right, please. I need to make this right."

Annie could feel his hands clutching at her, as if, if he let her go, she would disappear. This wasn't beyond the realms of possibility. Slowly her arms came up to circle his shoulders. Mitchell let out a choked sound that Annie suspected was a sob when he registered her arms around him. She had meant what she said in the letters. She would always love him, but she didn't know if she could forgive him yet.

Several hours later, as the early morning light began to filter through the boards that covered the windows of the little pink house, a vampire and a ghost sat on the dusty floor, wrapped around each other. Eventually, Annie shifted slightly, trying to move out of Mitchell's grasp, but the arms around her tightened and she rolled her eyes before popping a few feet away. She looked down at the man who now sat at her feet and he frowned up at her.

"I think it's time for you to leave now."

He shot to his feet, panic straining at his features. "But…"

She held up a hand to pause him. "I'm not saying you can't come back, but you can't stay here. Not yet anyway."

The panic abated slightly, but Mitchell's chest still felt abnormally tight. "Why?"

Annie sighed and concentrated on a crack in the wall somewhere behind Mitchell's head. "You have to understand, when you met me, I was broken. You and George, you helped put me back together. And when you left," She struggled now, to admit her weakness to the man in front of her. "It broke me again Mitchell. I've been alone for forty nine years. Other ghosts come and go but in the end, I'm always alone. It's taken me years to put myself back together and I can't risk loosing myself again."

Mitchell nodded, his brows knitted together in thought. He stepped forward, putting his hands on her shoulders, staring into her deep brown eyes.

"I will fix this Annie. I'll fix us."

She couldn't help but smile at the determination in his voice. Putting her hands on either side of his face she rose up on her toes and kissed him softly, but there was no heat behind it.

"We'll see."

As Mitchell walked down the road, away from his former home, he could still feel the cold tingle on his lips. He smiled to himself, feeling a kind of hope that he hadn't felt in years.

The late August sun was hot on the back of his neck as John Mitchell walked down Windsor Terrace and stopped in front of the a pink house which had once been his home. He smiled as he looked at the front door and pulled a key out of his pocket.

"All right mate?"

He turned to find the same man who had spoken to him eight months ago, when he had first returned to Bristol, standing beside him.

"I'm great thanks. You?"

"Can't complain. The place looks great."

The two men admired the freshly painted exterior of the house and Mitchell grinned. "Thanks."

The other man turned. "Guess it's not haunted after all, ey? Be seeing you."

The vampire chuckled to himself as he stepped up to the front door and turned the key. As he entered, he threw his keys into a small glass dish on a table in the hallway and called out.

"I'm home."

Annie popped her head out of the kitchen. "Hiya. Tea?"

"Of course."

He followed the ghost into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as he watched her busy herself with mugs.

"Annie?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it even legal for a ghost to own a house?"

She paused and then shrugged and continued making the tea. "Don't know. Don't really care. Couldn't have someone knocking it down now, could I?"

"How'd you do it anyway?"

She handed him his mug and sat on the kitchen table swinging her leg back and forth. "I know people." She smiled at him impishly. "I move and shake."

He grinned at her. "Wattcha wanna do tonight then?"

Again, the ghost shrugged. "Whatever you want. It's only your second night home after all."

"Casablanca?"

The blinding smile that Annie shot his way made it impossible for Mitchell not to smile back. As they curled up on the couch together he knew that while he still had a lot of work to do, he was home.