Time for a little more chaos... I still don't own Being Human. Toby wouldn't be stupid enough to do this to Mitchell hurr.

Chapter Six.

He'd eaten and the pain had faded; a quick change and he headed for the door, scooping up his keys, wearing a spare fleece. Then George appeared, ready too, and caught his upper arm. "Mitchell." His vampiric friend looked at him confused, "You uh... you have a little problem, your eyes..." he gestured, and Mitchell frowned, raising an eyebrow. "They're not right. There's no... colour, I mean there's the white but there's no, there's no... iris." He smiled nervously. "Oh." Mitchell mumbled, "Oh, uh..." he regretted once more that he had no reflection in mirrors, and even if he had some glass to look in it'd be blurred. He let his eyes switch to full black, causing George to step back in shock, then he pulled the colour back. "Any good?" he queried, and George swallowed, nodding shakily.

"Right, let's go. See ya later, Annie," he called and she nodded, giving him a faint smile, "Take care." She murmured softly and he grinned tightly, "I'll do my best." He headed out into the street, but as he was opening his door George spoke. "Maybe I should drive?" he said softly, and Mitchell froze, staring at him, "What..? Do you think I'm incapable, just because I had a long fucking sleep? Get in the car!" he snarled, getting in and slamming the door. Shocked, George did as he was told. As the car pulled away, he became more worried. Every so often Mitchell would tremble slightly, and he seemed completely unaware of it. He wasn't just pale, he was pasty, his skin having a weird waxy sheen to it; and George could smell the beads of sweat rolling down the vampire's neck. He'd never seen Mitchell ill before, it was wrong, he was meant to be frozen in time not ... changing like this.

They pulled into their usual space at the hospital, and walked inside, the tension rolling off Mitchell in waves. George could smell it, heavy and uncomfortable in the air, and walked up their lockers. He tugged off his jacket at the locker next to George, pulling the scrub shirt over his own, then the loose trousers. "Will you be alright?" he asked Mitchell softly, as they walked toward the supply cupboard next to which the rota info hung. There they'd find where they were assigned tonight. "I'll be fine. I just need to heal, it won't take too long." He assured his friend, unable to force a smile. They waited for someone else to finish getting their supplies and checked the board... "Oh, fantastic." Mitchell groaned. He was on the old people ward; "Agh. Don't feel too sorry for yourself." George commented, spotting his name. "I'm in the same area. I swear to god if I get another granny trying to punch me in the kidneys." Mitchell snorted as he got a mop and bucket, filling it with soap and water; George waited for him to finish and walked with him to the next floor.

As they reached it, one of the younger lads, a big bloke with a brick for a brain there on work experience, came past. He was clearly in a bad mood; Mitchell and George had just left the lift and started walking down the corridor when he stormed past, barging roughly into George's shoulder. Irritated, George looked around as if to say something but decided it wasn't worth it. "What the hell are you doing?" the snarl shocked him as there was a heavy thud. Mitchell had pushed the lad. He was staring at the vampire in shock, then with building anger. "Don't push it." He snarled again, and the lad looked to go for him, launching forward only to get a punch in the jaw. "I'll have you for that!" he snapped, but his piggy eyes were tearing up. As he went to walk away Mitchell glared at him and then turned back to George.

As he turned to face George again, a wave of pain roared through him, feeling like it came from his chest and lower back, a wave of cold pain, like jagged shards of ice scraped over every inch of skin. He heard a crack and felt another wave of cold on his side, bright lights flashing in his eyes. He didn't understand what had happened. There was a buzzing noise in his ears, another wave of spikes rolling up his spine and over his shoulders, and he knew he was arching his back. All his motor controls felt like they were gone, everything was burning and screaming and then red seemed to swirl with black, was over his senses until everything was numb and he slipped off.

George was shocked by the aggression but assumed it was pain influencing him. He had watched everything with wide eyes, prepared with his shocked admonishment. He'd been about to launch into it when he'd seen the flash of pain in Mitchell's eyes. The vampire's legs had given way and he'd crashed to the floor, only his arms hitting before him stopping Mitchell from ending up with a smashed nose. With a jerk he'd rolled onto his back, staring with blacked out eyes at the ceiling, gasping with horrible bubbling noises, almost as if he was choking. His fangs had distended and his body had jerked, his back arching and fingers digging into the floor. On his knees next to his friend George cried out his name, hands on his chest; tears of panic in his eyes. Someone heard his shouts and came running, just as Mitchell went still, losing consciousness. His eyes slid shut and the fangs slipped away, just in time; then he was sliding to A&E.

George panicked, as ever; "No, he has to go home, rest." He insisted at the questioning. "Please, just let someone help me carry him to the car, maybe Jim Ross or Paul, yeah?" he insisted, and finally they let him, seeing there was nothing to do. They got him in a wheelchair and eventually into the passenger seat. "Take it out of the holiday, yeah?" he squeaked, and headed home, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes and to stop himself from looking at the unconscious vampire, who was trembling as he lay there.