Title: Replacement Girl

Fandom: Being Human

Pairing: Mitchell/OC, mentions of Mitchell/Annie

Rating: M

Summary: "Because when we're together I can pretend just for a second that Annie is here again with me and I can hold her, kiss her…love her." Post Season 2 finale.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. If I did I would never let them out to play.

A/N:Well, here's the second part. Fingers crossed!

Mitchell had been staring at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of hours. Even if the television worked he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to turn it on. George was at work, Nina was out, and he was sitting here thinking about Annie and Kendra and how much Kendra looked like Annie and how if everything went according to planned Annie would be here with him in a week. Someone was knocking at the door and despite his enhanced hearing it took him a second longer than it should have to realize it. He sprung from the couch and swung open the door just as Kendra's fist was about to make contact with it again. Her fist landed softly right in the middle of his chest with a dull thump.

"Oh!" She jerked her hand away. "I–I'm here for the ummm–the mug." She blurted.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Come in." He let her pass, his entire body stiffening when her arm brushed lightly against his. Mitchell led her to the kitchen and swiped the mug from the counter.

"Should we bury it out back, then?" He asked, suddenly feeling excited. She nodded. Moments later they were in the back of the house kneeling in a patch of moist dirt. Kendra opened her messenger bag and began pulling things out of it. It was then Mitchell had the opportunity to really look at her for the first time. She did strangely resemble Annie with the same hair and nose and smile, but her eyes were different. Kendra had dark circles underneath her eyes as if she hadn't slept in a while and a wrinkle in the middle of her forehead from frowning. She was wearing a tight fitting dark gray hoodie decorated with the pale image of Gary Numan's face, torn blue skinny jeans and high-top British Knights.

"Are you from here?" Mitchell finally asked, her unique style making him curious.

"I was born here. I moved to New York when I was about 18. Came back a year ago."

"Didn't like America?"

"I don't think America liked me."

Mitchell was silent as Kendra poured a carton full of salt into the mug while whispering softly. She then unfolded a cotton cloth and dipped it into a container of water.

"Ocean water." She said, "Contains just enough of this world and the next."

Mitchell didn't ask what she meant by that, he just watched as she wrung out the cloth, wrapped it around the mug, and sat it in the hole he'd dug earlier. Mitchell buried the mug while Kendra put everything back into her bag and then they both went back into the house.

"Where do you want the door?" She asked.

"In here." She followed him to the back room.

"We will have to smoke this room twice." She said, gesturing to the faint red patch on the ground. "Death has happened here recently."

Mitchell simply nodded, not bothering to look at where she was pointing. Every time he saw the spot he pictured Lucy bleeding to death on the floor. Suddenly his nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh blood. He turned to see Kendra holding a bloody knife in one hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mitchell asked, "I thought you said your blood wouldn't work."
"It won't work for the spell, but a witch's blood is the only substance that can cleanse a wall properly to make way for a door. It's the only way to do it without actually killing someone." She winced as she sliced her palm again. Through the blood Mitchell could see scars, evidence that she had indeed done this many times. Kendra pressed her hand against the wall, leaving a bloody print on the peeling wallpaper, then, dabbing the knife in the puddle of blood in her palm, she began to carve symbols into the wall. As the knife dug into the malleable plaster of the old wall traces of her blood were left behind in the cracks. When she was finally finished she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped the blood from her hand before applying pressure.

"Could you do me a favor and reach into my bag and pull out the tiny blue jar and the bandages in the front pocket?"

Mitchell knelt to rummage around in her bag until he found the items she needed. He opened the jar and held it out to her. Kendra removed the handkerchief and poured the liquid contents of the jar onto her injured hand. She fanned it in the air to dry and then reached to take the bandage from him.

"Let me." He whispered; eyes focused on her hand. He could tell she was staring at him. He stepped closer and began to wrap the bandage around her hand, thinking back to his days in the military where he'd done this many times. When he was done he tied the bandage off in a neat bow on the back of her hand.

"All done." He said, finally looking up at her. It was her eyes that made him step closer; she looked like she was fighting back tears. It was her lips that made him lean in and then…he kissed her. It began as a gentle press of his lips against hers and then she gasped. He slipped his tongue passed her parted lips into the warmth of her mouth and he wondered if Annie tasted like this when she was alive, like orange flavored gum and something that didn't have a name. His hands went to her face just as hers rose to grip his flannel over shirt.

"Mitchell?" At the sound of George's voice echoing from the other room the two of them jumped apart.

"I should go." Kendra immediately threw everything into her bag and took off, leaving Mitchell standing there, the taste of her still on his tongue and the smell of her blood lingering in the air.