You know the drill, everything here belongs to TW.

I will probably start taking longer to post since the plot is thickening. But once more thank you for those of you who had taken the time to comment. Your feedback is much appreciated.


Despite his resolve to come to the undertakers and settle things once and for all, Mitchell had found himself procrastinating for most part of the day. He had walked and smoked, knowing that sooner rather than later he'd have to come to the vipers' nest.

He had been so adamant, rude even; to the ones he loved about getting back into his past.

It had been for them after all.

But it didn't mean he was happy to do so.

It was already dusk when he had finally gotten through the hated threshold.

The scene was decadent. The theme seemed to be desecration and anarchy. The vision bothered him beyond the morality of his new life: the carelessness and repudiation of any sort of order over chaos.

"Jesus Christ people… We have over a millennia of combined ages and you act like you're bloody teenagers in a punk rock self-destructive spree!" He yelled.

Some heads turned towards him and he could hear the whispers.

The undertakers' old building, which normally would be stark and empty, was now full to the brim with vampires, must of the faces were new to him, along with some of the low-lives that Herrick had banished. Some were fighting, slamming one another against walls and smashing furniture; others, covered in blood, were in the midst of sex with multiple partners; and though hidden by the many people in the rooms, he could hear and smell the victims being drained. Their pulses were so loud that he could feel his head being crushed by their heartbeats and the smell in his nostrils was so intoxicating his walk faltered.

The acrid smell of blood was burying away the logical part of him while something more primal was been unlocked. The thumping of veins and arteries, not only within the premises but also all through the city, reverberated like ritualistic drums announcing a bad omen. He would close his monster eyes to try to calm himself, but the blood was hissing its spelling charm into his ear.

He opened his eyes and in the periphery he noticed the hint of dark curls among the crowd of predators and preys, sparking lust and dread within him. He was walking now among the bodies, shoving and elbowing away, catching just glimpses of coffee and caramel, until finally she turned her head and it wasn't the one for which he feared the most.

His imagination exploded nevertheless.

He no longer was in the damp and dingy building, littered by the undead and the nearly dead, but in a jungle near the sea. He could feel the sort of warmth he hadn't felt since his human days. Now he was another kind of predator, though his prey looked more than happy to be stalked.

She looked like she had never looked before; her curls were looser than normal, and her hair longer and lighter by the love of the sun. Whenever she'd turn to see him her full smile would greet him, mischievous, playing hard to get, her cheeks flushed, her blood singing like a siren for him and only him.

She was wearing her white camisole and nothing more, and all her skin was covered in a sheen coat of sweat. He liked the roundness of her hips, her shapely calves, her high cheekbones, all her body yelled how alive it was, and she seemed to laugh, to giggle, and to beg to be caught.

The dream changed abruptly and now she was lying at the bottom of the stairs: her skin no longer the colour of milky coffee but grey, her afterlife grey. This time she didn't have the bloody halo around her curls (how much he had imagined her like that, broken by love). No, this time she was dry, her cheeks sunken, black pools under her eyes, her once beautiful, and oh so kissable, full lips languid and apart.

And he could taste her, in the back of his throat and dripping from his chin.

He felt the pain and the horror in his chest. He opened the eyes he didn't know were closed and it was the same debauchery at the undertakers, the same supple bodies undulating against him, inviting, the powerful smell of blood, of life and death.

He felt disgusted.

He heard his own growl and the thud of the vampire he had just slammed face first into the nearest wall.

The crowd now had his full attention, admonished by the force of his alpha status.

"Now, that is a Mitchell I can recognize. I really couldn't believe all the nonsense people have been saying about you." A deep voice uttered behind almost mocking him.

"Ivan?" Mitchell asked turning to meet his old friend.

"The one and only. Why don't we go someone more quiet where grown-ups can talk?" He asked holding a tumbler of scotch.

"Herrick would be quite disappointed to know his pride and joy was being used as an American frat house you know?" Ivan asked as he closed the door behind them.

"What are you doing here Ivan?" Mitchell asked ignoring the previous comment.

"Just some sightseeing, not really interested in taking old William's territory if that is what you are wondering. You know I'm a family man. You must remember my Daisy. She is all spunk that one. Lovely feisty little thing, sharp as a whip. Everybody deserves a Daisy really…"

"Yeah, yeah… she's lovely." Mitchell commented dismissively.

"We must all get together. She was very excited to come to Bristol, and I couldn't say no. Historical times for our kind really. And she's quite keen on meeting your werewolf." Ivan remarked lifting his eyebrows.

"That is out of the question, and he's not my werewolf, he's my friend." Mitchell made clear.

"You know this is all a big mistake Ivan. If this keeps on it'll be the end of our kind, not only here. You know this, don't you?"

"Well, for what I've heard you haven't been too preoccupied for maintaining our ways." He replied before sipping his drink.

"But I have never put our existence in jeopardy."

"One can argue that taking into account what your… friend… did."

"We had no choice. George had no choice! Herrick was out of control." Mitchell justified.

"What is it that they say? About the evil you know…"

"You have to help me get things back in control." He pleaded.

"You know how much I hate politics. It seems like you have your hands full. It's a matter of time before someone comes for the were… George… Sorry, I've heard you're quite attached."

"I won't let them hurt George! Or Annie!"

"Oh yes… There's quite the talk about the ghost… They will be coming after you as well, you are the 'heir apparent' after all."

"How can I be? I turned my back to all of this… I went on the wagon."

"And still you are the legendary John Mitchell, a threat to Herrick and the owner of the mutt who took him out. The way I see it, the only way Bristol can get back in control is to have you lead them." He said tilting his glass to him.

"That is mental Ivan and you know it. I don't want to come back, I won't be able to refrain if I do."

"Then maybe there is your answer." He said with a Cheshire cat smile.

"I need to go, this is not helping." Mitchell said exasperated as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Take my advice and let them know you are the law around here, or those you have found so good to live with will be the ones to pay." This time his tone had lost all its previous humour.

"Everyone should know by now I'm not someone to mess with."

"Unfortunately, there are a lot of young ones around, some that don't know the full extent of the John Mitchell story."

"Then I guess I need to make a statement." He said charging back to the main room.

"Listen up people!" He yelled. "For those of you who are not familiar with me, I am John Mitchell, the John Mitchell."

"I've heard about you." A blond vampire barely clothed said as she snaked her arms around Mitchell's neck and rubbed her body against him. Her mouth was bloody and she kissed his jaw licking her way to his lips.

"I've heard you haven't had a drink in a while. Let me get you a warm one, and you can lick it off my body afterwards." She invited.

"Sorry sweetheart, you're not my type." He said pushing her away without even looking at her.

"What is your type then?" She asked annoyed.

"Not you." He said grinning.

"Arsehole." She said offended.

"You may have come here lured by the current lawless state of this territory, or maybe you think it would be easy to take out the werewolf that killed Herrick." He continued addressing the crowd. "But listen, and listen well, I will stake every single one of you before you touch him or if you even come near my home and what is mine."

To make a point he swiftly swung a chair into the wall and picked up a pointy piece of wood and started playing idly with it as he spoke.

"I heard you've been dry. What can you do against us?" Someone asked.

"Seth and Herrick made the mistake of underestimating me and my friends." He said menacingly. "Ah! And I suggest you be more careful with your feedings. Herrick is not around anymore and neither are the cover-up systems of our way of life. Clean up your act before you attract higher management attention. And fix up this dump!" He yelled as he walked out riled up both by the blood and the rage.


"Mitchell?" Annie asked hesitantly unable to move when she saw Mitchell at the top of the stairs.

"It's okay Annie, I'm just… a little overwhelmed." He said closing his eyes repeatedly trying to make them go back to their normal state. When he couldn't he just stared away from her.

She came closer and touched his bloody jaw.

"Whose blood is this Mitchell?" She asked coldly.

"It's not mine. And I didn't draw it. I didn't kill anyone Annie. Some vampire girl kissed me."

"Oh did she?" Her upper lip curled in a very transparent manner but Mitchell was too distracted by what he was still feeling to notice.

"She wasn't too happy about my rejection."

Annie wetted her thumb in her mouth and rubbed her thumb over the stain and then wiped it with the edge of her sleeve.

"How are you?" She finally asked caressing his face.

"Not well. I can still hear it Annie, the blood in their veins. It was difficult." His hands were on her face and she could see how shaky they were.

"I can't make my eyes go back, I can feel the rage and the thirst on the back of my throat. It's so powerful I can't stand the feel of my skin. Annie…"

"I'm here." She said embracing him and letting his forehead fall to hers.

"I need you Annie." He said holding the back of her head over her curls and pulling her closer to him until his words were nothing but sighs on her own lips.

"Shh… I'm here." She says to his deep dark eyes.

This time it was not desperate and out of control as the first time when he had been in the throes of bloodlust. Annie was kissing him slowly and gently and the initial coolness of her skin sobered him a bit.

Slowly she undressed him as she did herself.

The two times before they had been desperate and trying to consume each other as if they could make all the monsters outside disappear.

And as if they could make all the monsters inside disappear as well.

This time they took their time.

Gone were the words and gone was the self-consciousness of being nude in front of a new lover.

Mitchell felt the horrible drumming of blood give way to only lust and how his skilful hands had forgotten the well-known dance steps of the animal chasing its prey.

Annie was new territory, uncharted and mysterious.

She was the New World with its magic and its threat, with never-ending youth and savageness.

And he was the Old World, with its disenchantment and age and hopelessly thirsty for change.

This time they were both equals.

This time they gave and took just the same.


"I missed you." He said as he traced the edges of the dim light from outside over her skin.

They were facing each other; dark curls mingling on the once white pillowcase. His right leg nestled between hers, tickling slightly her soft skin with its dense hair.

"I've been here." She said raising her eyebrows and barely letting the corners of her mouth curl a bit.

"No. Like this." He said pulling her closer to him. "Here."

"Mitchell… We can't always be here like this." She said looking away to the ceiling.

"You don't have a bed. There isn't any other place really… Unless you're feeling adventurous." He said with a smirk.

"Don't joke." She said playfully gently slapping his cheek.

"I'm not. I need you, you know?" His voice was lower, almost sighing. "Today was brutal."

"What happened?"

"Total chaos…Evil… It's quite scary when you find yourself missing Herrick."

"I'm sorry."

"The smell of it… The idea of letting go … until I saw you." He confessed.

"Where?"

"There, for some reason I could picture you… alive… Suddenly the thumping of the blood was your pulse… You looked so alive, and your cheeks were flushed. And then…"

"Then?"

He closed his eyes tightly, visibly affected.

"I pictured you drained… Cold… You were at the bottom of the stairs, but it wasn't Owen, it was me who killed you. It nearly knocked me to my knees. I hated myself for even thinking about you like that."

"The upside is that you can't kill me. Maybe that is the point. I'm not a risk."

"You're more than that. You tie me to some humanity I thought I had already forgotten."

"How can I do that when I don't know what it is I'm doing?" She just smiled sadly. "The future used to be everything to me. I guess it's just a big cliché, but I really thought I'd get to live in that future, that some day I'd feel like I had arrived. And then it was gone. And now… The only future I have is forever and it's overwhelming… Tell me how you deal with that. Tell me that in a hundred years it will be less scary."

"Annie…" He said shaking his head. "It can't compare. I've had more than my fair share of lifetimes. I've been living on borrowed time for so long. You barely lived. This… existence… is not fair to you."

"Maybe there is a reason for second chances. You earned your second chance. And you and George gave me mine. I have to keep reminding me that I won't make the same mistakes twice. I need to take this, whatever this is, whatever we are one day at a time. I need to learn to live in the present."

"I'm one very big mistake… But I'm not going to lie and tell you I regret you're making it."

"Mitchell… You're not a mistake. You're a new chance. You're more human than you thought you know?"

"Is that so?"

"I know, because you make me feel alive. Big cliché and everything. Or maybe it's the first time someone had said that quite literally." She was genuinely smiling now.

"You got it all wrong kid, you were just too stubborn to accept you croaked. You are death challenged." He said teasingly as he softly tickled her on the side of her belly.

"Don't tickle me! I'm only a kid because you're ancient, you old man!"

"Well, I'm the very old man you just had sex with."

"Oh, don't say that it sounds as creepy as if I had gotten together with my Nan's old boyfriend or something."

"Sweetheart. I'm too old for your Nan." She was feigning offence.

"Do you ever not pout?"

"That's just my face."

"I know, sometimes I don't know if I want to scream at you or kiss you with those lips."

They kept alternating between teasing and getting serious.

"Tell me something human." She ordered him.

"Something human?"

"Yes. Tell me a human memory." She insisted.

"I don't remember too much." Mitchell excused himself.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Sarah."

The name came too easy to his lips, so much that it surprised him. It had been years since he had thought about her.

"Do you remember her?"

"She was pretty. I don't remember my father. I never met him. He died when I was still in my mother's belly. But I remember her; she had very long curly hair… I bet that is a big surprise."

"Mitchell." She said softly, knowing he wanted to deflect the sorrow the memory brought.

"It's okay. I never knew anything different." He finally said acknowledging. "We didn't have much but my Ma made sure I wanted for nothing. She loved me… Though… I know many times she searched for him in my face."

"What happened to her?"

"She died when I was 20. Some illness or sorrow… Doesn't really matter, this is her ring." He said lifting the silver chain around his neck. "I've worn it since she died. See after that… Enrolling was easy. I didn't have much more to tie me back."

"You didn't leave anyone behind?"

"Well, I did have a sweetheart… Her name started with an M… Mary perhaps… I can't be sure."

"Was she pretty?"

"I guess I thought she was at the time. It's too far in the past."

The thought made Annie shiver. She wondered if this was what eternity had stored for her. Would she struggle to remember meaningful things in a century? Would they wonder what was George's name long after he passed?

"You won't forget what's important to you. You don't have to worry. I can see your mind work."

"But you barely remember her, and you loved her."

"I did, but only as much as what I thought love was back then. I would have married her if I had come back alive after the war. But it doesn't mean that she was the one, or whatever that is supposed to mean."

"So you never went back to Ireland?"

"I did… Once… I wanted to see her again. She looked beautiful but sad and tired… Her belly was so round."

Annie lifted her head surprised.

"Was… it yours?" She asked.

"I wondered at the time. I stayed a few weeks, I made sure to feed form another town because I didn't want to kill anyone she loved." He explained.

"And?"

"I stayed until the babe came. He was as blond as the sun and… he looked exactly like my best friend from childhood." He said with a sad grin.

"How did you feel?" Annie asked settling next to him, this time resting her head between his chest and his chin.

"Relieved, I guess. And a little sad too. She married him, my friend. But only after the child came. I guess she wondered too."

She could feel his Adam's apple moving when he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's nice. I tend to think that I don't remember a thing. But it's human, isn't it? Being able to feel the pull of sorrow after so many years… So now you owe me something human." He countered.

"There's not much to say. And you know quite a bit already. God only knows I never shut up."

"Tell me something insignificant, trivial. Those are the things that define us more, the little silly details." Mitchell explained.

"My dad took me to a market once, when I was little, 3 or 4 really. I really don't know how much it's my memory of the event or my memory of what my parents used to tell me about it, but we went together and I remember the colours and the smells. He was picking out fruit and he told me to hold on to his trousers, he hooked my finger to his pocket and I remember looking at all those colours, and they were mesmerizing and I let go."

He was now holding her tighter and pulling her until she was half resting on him.

"He didn't notice. I walked around looking at everything. I didn't notice I was alone until later; it could have been a few minutes or more. I didn't have a concept of time. But I remember the fear I had when I couldn't see my dad anywhere. He was terrified I'm sure. When he found me his eyes were swollen and he was so scared. He hugged me and I can still remember the smell of his cologne, his tanned neck, and a bit of sweat… I still remember my Daddy's smell…" Her eyes were glazed over with tears by now and he was gently rocking her.

"So I guess we're both more human than we thought right?" He asked running his fingers through her hair.

"Speaking of humanity. You probably need to go to sleep now." Annie said more calm now.

"Are you going to try? Have you slept anymore since that nap you took a few days ago?" Mitchell inquired.

"I tried once, but I just got to the dozing off part and then… I felt like I was falling. I haven't let myself since then. I'm scared to try."

"Then I won't." He said quite resolved.

"But it's late."

"It's not too long until I have to go get George. You want to come with?" When he asked he tilted her head up with a finger.

"No… That's your time together. I'll make sure to have breakfast ready for you."

"You don't have to." He replied.

"I know. I want to. And that is my thing with George and you." She said smiling.

"Very well then. So… What are you going to do to keep me up in the meantime…" He immediately noticed his choice of words and corrected himself: "Awake! I mean awake! Oh, Christ. You're contagious!" He said laughing at himself.

Annie smiled delighted to not be the least cool person in a room for once, especially when the other person was none other than the very smooth John Mitchell.