So remember when I said I wasn't joking about the late update? Please don't kill me, I haven't gotten my muse back for this so if this chapter sucks I'm really really sorry. I do love a good Annie/Mitchell story however, and this one is fun to write, so bear with me while I attempt to get them back in character. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews!

…

"Did you get pissed last night?" George asked the bleary-eyed, tangled hair walking mess that walked in. "You look terrible."

Mitchell rubbed a hand over his face, "I'm just tired."

"You're 'just tired'?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've got a lot on my mind!" Mitchell defended himself, and George rolled his eyes.

"Is it Annie again? I mean –"

"Not everything in my life centers around Annie," Mitchell growled, then stopped. He let out a huge sigh and flopped onto the couch, head in his hands. "Oh, George. I think you're right."

"Of course you do, I'm always right…. What about?"

"Annie, Owen, all of it. I wish I could sleep it off or something."

"Still convinced you have a coffin up there, by the way," George said in a matter-of-fact tone. "What do you think Annie would do if she saw that?"

"What would any normal person do… and I don't have a coffin!"

"Riiiight."

"George!"

"Alright, alright," George sat down on the couch next to him. "I have the feeling we're about to have some sort of talk."

"I think something's wrong. I don't know why."

"Do you think it's one of your vampire…things…?"

Mitchell shrugged, "I honestly don't know. It's weird, I've had the feeling before but it's always been about me, not someone else."

George looked like he had a hard time containing laughter at that.

"What?" Mitchell glared at him, "oh don't start."

"Sorry, sorry, you were saying?" asked George, leaning forward so he could cover his mouth with his hand without looking too suspicious. Mitchell knew what he was doing, but decided to ignore it anyway in favor of continuing. "I passed by her yesterday –"

"Wait you went to her house?"

"No!...I just sort of saw her sitting there and… stopped to say hello. Is it that big a deal?"

"No, if the word 'stalker' doesn't mean anything to you…" said George with an eyeroll.

"Oh please. I'm not stalking Annie."

"Right, just her relationship."

"I'm not stalking her relationship either! I just… oh would you stop looking at me like that!" Mitchell snapped as George hurriedly tried to hide a smirk. "Can we just be grown up about this?" Mitchell knew it was rich coming from him about being mature, but he really wanted to get his point across.

"I'm just worried about her… I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen to her, you know what I mean?"

"I think you should just ask her out to dinner," said George, to the shock of Mitchell. "You want me to ask her on a date. While she's living with her fiancé I might add."

"You don't have to make it a date," said George as though this were obvious, biting a fingernail. "Oh look at me, I'm giving relationship advice…"

"Yeah, maybe coming to you for advice on that particular area wasn't the best i- I mean, uh, not that you're not experienced or anything," added Mitchell hurriedly at the glare George sent him, who just rolled his eyes at the 'save'.

"Well since I'm so bad at giving relationship advice, why don't you just call one of those date lines and see what they say about it," said George, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

"They get you dates, they don't give you advice," Mitchell called after him, grinning despite himself.

"How would you know?" George countered, "called one before?"

"Too many times," answered Mitchell, causing an amused snort to come from the kitchen area. "Listen, if this is that big of a deal to you then maybe you should just go over there."

"You think so?" asked Mitchell, tilting his head as he considered the idea.

"Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, don't do that. Definitely don't do that."

"Why?" asked Mitchell, now in complete confusion. "George stop not making sense."

"I can't stop not making sense if I'm not making sense already, or, already not making sense, oh shut up you know what I meant," George snapped at the sound of Mitchell's barely contained laughter.

"Well, what did you mean then?"

"We're running out of groceries again… you're going to need to run out," George said in a distracted tone, looking inside the refrigerator.

"What?" Mitchell got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, looking unimpressed. "I just got some like yesterday."

"Three days ago, and it's not my fault you're always eating. You don't even need to eat – look, you're doing it again!" George snapped in disbelief as Mitchell grabbed a muffin.

"It was begging me to eat it," said Mitchell in a serious tone. "Besides, I'm not the only one who likes to eat."

"I'm a werewolf, there's a difference."

"What does being a werewolf have to do with food?" Mitchell asked with a frown, taking a bite into the muffin. It was very tasty.

"Because my metabolism is like… or hunger… I just – I just need more to eat, that's all." George defended himself, and Mitchell rolled his eyes, finishing the muffin in a few swift bites. "Whatever, I thought we were talking about Annie."

"We were," said George, "and then you switched onto my topic of conversation."

"So what, you were just going to ignore me?" demanded Mitchell, suddenly looking hurt. George looked up at the expression on his friend's face, "Oh no, no I wasn't ignoring you. I was just… enjoying your voice as background noise, that's all."

Mitchell let out a loud groan, "that's the last time I come to you for dating advice… which this isn't even supposed to be about dating, you made it about dating!"

"Now he catches on…" George mumbled.

"I wish I could talk to her, maybe I should go over –"

"Don't do that!" George snapped, "What if Owen's there?"

Mitchell stared at him, "why should I care about Owen?"

"Well, think about it, you're hanging around his fiancé all the time and he's bound not to like that too much. So if you start showing up on his doorstep, what do you think he's going to do?"

"Tell me off? George I'm a ninety year old vampire, I don't think a plain bloke like Owen is going to hurt me. And he's definitely not going to scare me away," Mitchell said firmly.

"Well, what about Annie?"

Mitchell blinked at him, "what about her?"

"You said you didn't think there was something right in there relationship right? Why take stupid chances… beside the fact that you take stupid chances too many times for me to count…"

Mitchell looked about to argue, but then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess you're right. I hate that you're right, but you are all the same."

George frowned at the forlorn look on his best friend's face. "Oh come on, don't go looking like that. You'll find a way to get her," he said in a tone that didn't fool Mitchell. He knew as well as Mitchell that it was probably a loss cause. "You'll just have to… figure something out. Oh, why did you have to come to me for this?" asked George, his tone getting considerably higher.

Mitchell managed a half smile, "I knew it would annoy you."

…

Annie sat outside, looking up at the stars in the sky. Owen was passed out drunk up in their bedroom. He'd originally fallen to the floor, but Annie took the time (despite the pain in her ribs) to pull him up and into the bed. Her gaze traveled to where she knew that Mitchell and George lived, and she wondered what the two were doing. Were they asleep too? She wouldn't be very surprised if that was the case, it was almost eleven after all. She let out a long sigh and tried not to think about the past few days… the past few years, really.

Annie reflected on the day before, when Mitchell had found her crying outside her house. She could tell by his face he knew there was something wrong, that she was hiding something, but he was respectful enough to leave it at that. Annie looked at Owen, and sometimes found herself wishing it was Mitchell, as horrible a thought as that was. Mitchell was kind, understanding, and he seemed to care about Annie even though he'd only just met her. George was nice too, but Annie could tell he was reluctant to be friends with her and Owen – whether that was a person grudge or he had other reasons, Annie was unsure. Still, it was obvious how close they were, and Annie found herself wishing that her and Owen were that close.

She rubbed her rib without even realizing it at the thought of Owen, and she frowned. She knew that lately she'd had thoughts of Mitchell rather than Owen, and it was unfair to him. He loved her, he told her that, and she loved him. She'd love him until the end of the world, but something about Mitchell drew her in. There was something about him, like some secret, that made her want to find out more about him. She'd love to invite him out to dinner, or over for tea, but the thought of what Owen would do when he found out was enough to frighten her out of asking. She had been worried when she'd talked to him yesterday, but luckily Owen hadn't seen Mitchell. It was also nice of Owen to cook dinner. She would have cooked it, but Owen seemed to be trying to make up for how he'd treated her before. True, he may have gotten drunk again that same night, but there were those kind moments that made Annie want to stay, because she wanted to be around for those kind moments. She wanted to be around for the best of him, even though the best could sometimes be the worst. Maybe she was being selfish, or maybe she was being incredibly stupid, but in her heart she was still in love with Owen. These thoughts about being with Mitchell instead had shocked her, but she knew that they could never be together. Not while Owen was there.

She sat outside for at least a half an hour when she decided to go to bed, wanting nothing more than to feel Owen's arms around her, even though she knew that they wouldn't be there. She could always pretend, like she did every night.

She wanted to get out, but her heart wouldn't let her. Or her guilt.