Wow, It would appear that I owe you all a huge apology. I don't know how many of you were waiting for this but if you were, I won't keep you any longer.

Chapter 7 - Sandwiches and Sofa Cushions

The evening came quicker than expected. Murph had spent the day talking to Annie who was more than happy to chat with her. When Mitchell came running down the stairs swearing like a sailor, Murph had been more than taken off guard.

That's how she found herself running down the street with Mitchell and George with a small blue bag with sandwiches in it grasped tightly in her hand. The sun had set and they had no more than five minutes before the moon started to peak in the night sky.

They must have looked like some proper weirdo's; Mitchell was gripping two floral cushions because the floor was hard where they had to sit and George was holding a rucksack and screaming occasionally while Murph was holding the sandwiches and a packet of crisps for George in the morning. They passed a fair few groups of people who gave them funny looks.

Mitchell ended up grabbing George's forearm and coaxing him through the door and into the cell. He collapsed onto his knees and screamed. Mitchell slammed the door shut and locked it. George stopped screaming for a second and managed to squeeze his shirt over his head and shake himself out of his trousers and boxers.

"Mitchell," he said in a pleading voice. "I . . . I don't wanna do this."

Murph watched as Mitchell grabbed onto the small hatch with sympathy knitting his eyebrows together. "George, you'll be alright, ok?" Murph swallowed as his supportive tone. If that's how he acted with George then there must have been something from George in return, Murph was warmed by the fact that Mitchell had someone he could fully rely on . . . not like her. "It'll just be some pain and then it'll all be over and the next thing you'll remember is waking up. Ok? You'll be alright." Mitchell said through the bars.

She didn't hear George's reply as she couldn't see him but he didn't say anything against Mitchell so she assumed he was convinced.

Mitchell looked to her and she saw the pain in his deep brown eyes. She gave him a sympathetic smile and simply held out the floral cushion. He chuckled quietly and nodded as she handed it to him and they both sat down.

Murph placed her head on his shoulder and she felt him relax as he sighed. They sat and listened to the rips and the cracks and the screeches as George's body morphed into the opposite of what it had previously been. Everything was quiet for a moment but another agonising crack filled the air followed by a scream and Murph jumped as Mitchell grasped her hand, squeezing tight.

She looked to him to see his eyes screwed shut and his entire body tense. She smiled to herself sadly. "It hurts you to see him in pain doesn't it?" she said just so he could hear.

His eyes opened and his head shot round to look at her. His eyebrows were knitted in slight confusion at the question that he wasn't prepared for. "Umm," he said, dragging out the sound and wincing as there was another tear of muscle. "Yes." He said quietly. "Almost as much as it would if you were in pain." He admitted.

Sympathy sewed itself into Murph's expression and her mouth gaped a little. She swallowed and looked away. "I try not to think about you being in pain." She said. "I've seen it too many times before." He looked away too, staring at his boots. "I can see it now." She said gently. "It's in your eyes. Lingering." He looked back up to her. "Some people may not say it but I've know you for too long to keep it to myself."

Everything was momentarily quiet from George and the full moon was casting a light through the far window. If Murph was human she would have been slightly scared of the dingy, dank underground cell and rooms surrounding it.

She sighed. "Why George? What about him attracted you of all people?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure; he's the complete opposite of me. He gets it . . . most of the time." There was a growl from inside and Mitchell shot up, jolting Murph's head from resting on his shoulder. He stared into the darkness before quickly sitting down again. Murph looked to him expectantly and Mitchell nodded. "The wolf's out."

There was an ear piercing howl and Murph jumped as the door behind her jolted with the weight of the wolf hitting it. She looked with fearful eyes to the vampire next to her and he smiled. "It's alright." He placed his arm over her shoulder. She leant into his chest, wishing that she could feel his warmth. She rubbed her fingerless gloved hands together before tucking them between their bodies.

They sat there, neither speaking a word as they each enjoyed the others presence. After a few minutes, Murph could almost feel Mitchell's thoughts. He took a breath. "Have you t'ought about who it could be who was messagin' you?"

Murph had expected the question at some point so she answered. "Yes."

He looked slightly taken aback that she had been thinking about it. He knew Murph well and to say that she was dismissive was a severe under-exaggeration. She tried not to linger on things, unless it was extremely important or unavoidable. "Why are ye so good at hiding when somet'ing's botherin' ye?" he asked, going slightly of subject. She looked up to him, sorrow in her emerald eyes before she shrugged and looked back to her shoes. She didn't want to talk about it. The years on her own, trying to be normal . . . to act human, had had a huge effect on how she acted and how she hid things and facades were her speciality. Not that Mitchell could talk; he had a pretty convincing one as well it's just that – like all women – Murph was better at noticing things that were wrong than he was. He sighed. "so who do you t'ink was doin' it?" he asked.

She gnawed on her lip, ignoring the loud bang from the cell behind her. "Do you remember a guy called Sam Clayton?" she asked and Mitchell frowned.

"No, should I?"

She shook her head. "Probably not, we were on a bit of a roll in the 50's." Mitchell scoffed. It wasn't a lie, the mid-century was all a bit of a blur to both of them and he could only remember snippets where he wasn't completely out of it. He waited for her to continue."We killed his girlfriend and were goin' to kill him but Herrick thought he'd be better if we turned him and made him remember t'at his girlfriend died before his eyes. It was sick; I don't know why we did it."

An image flashed tough Mitchell's head. "Oh!" he exclaimed, recognising the face. "Right, tall guy." He gestured with his hands. "Blond hair, quite well built?"

She nodded. "That's the one." She chuckled at how proud Mitchell was with himself that he'd remembered but the smile slowly disappeared. "Well he always blamed me, do ye remember?" Mitchell nodded. "And I haven't heard anyt'ing about him in quite a few years, I t'ought maybe he'd been staked. He never seemed to be very secretive about his kills. He probably got on Herrick's nerves." She took a breath. "But then a saw him a few weeks ago, I hadn't even fully registered it until I was thinking about it yesterday. He seems like the most likely person to be sending me the messages."

Mitchell nodded. "I'll keep an eye out."

She smiled, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "T'anks."

Silence ensued, nothing but the sound of breathing and the occasional grunt of growl from the wolf inside the cell. George was not the first werewolf that Murph had met and he wasn't he first one she had been in a close proximity with. There had been a female wolf she had known a decade or two before but she hadn't been around for long. Murph's shoulders shook with goosebumps thought she wasn't sure if it was due to the revelation of how many people left her or if it was just the cold. She decided on the latter as it was easier to admit.

Murph felt sleep begin to seep into her vision and Mitchell noticed, moving his back onto the doorframe so she could rest her head on his chest, just under his collar bone and lean against the door at her back.

She closed her eyes, feeling Mitchell place a soft kiss to her temple before she was engulfed in some much needed sleep.

Mitchell woke to the sound of a very angry car horn from the street above. He heard a feminine groan from his side as Murph fidgeted. "Why are you so like a horse?" She asked randomly and he snorted as the remark.

Murph chuckled sleepily. "See." She commented on the rather horse-like sound he had just made.

"How am I like a horse?" he asked.

Murph opened her eyes, looking up to him. "I swear t'at you just jumped a mile at that car horn and then you snorted. You seem to prance around a lot too."

Mitchell pulled an unappreciative face. "I don't prance." He said defensively.

She shrugged. "Maybe not as much as George, but you prance a little bit."

He pondered over this for a minute. "Fine, maybe a little."

There was a strained cough from inside the cell and Mitchell shot up, once more surprising Murph and pulling her fully into wakefulness.

"Mitchell?" Came George's tired voice.

Murph decided to stay sat down due to the fact that she was aware of George's indecent clothing situation.

"Did I . . .? Did it do anything?"

"No, you were fine." The vampire replied. "Do you want your clothes?"

George must have just nodded because Mitchell began to unlock the door and pass clothes through to George. When George was done, he stepped out and looked down to Murph.

The female vampire stood up and swallowed, noticing Mitchell cast glances between her and George.

The werewolf decided to speak first. "I'm . . ." he straightened himself up and attempted to stop the panicking tone in his voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

She smiled reassuringly. "It was more hear than see. And it was not'in' I haven't been around before." George relaxed, comforted by Murph's words. "You handled it well actually, I've seen much worse."

George swallowed and nodded. "Thanks."

Murph shrugged and held out the sandwiches in her hand. "Breakfast?"

I'm once again going to apologize. It's safe to say that I struggled with this chapter and it probably showed. please review because I've updated this today because I had the encouragement in a few reviews I've received lately. it's no word of a lie that I say that reviews and follows and favourites keep me going so much. the more reviews the story gets, the more I think about the story and the quicker the updates. So please please please review.