Mitchell's call had been cryptic, and George had not been able to shake the uneasiness it had brought to his chest all through his work shift. He had asked for more details, but Mitchell had only said, 'It's Annie.' Those words and the tone he used had been enough for George to know that something was terribly wrong.

All day, he had kept looking at his watch, and the very moment his shift was over, he had rushed home, after cancelling plans with Nina, but despite how he had run to reach their door, he had dreaded whatever he was to find on the other side.

George unlocked the door and entered cautiously, the eery silence doing nothing to lower his anxiety. It grew tenfold, knowing with such proximity to the full moon, his hearing was better than ever.

All the lights were out except for a dim lamp in the living room. George approached it slowly and saw Mitchell sitting on the leather sofa with Annie's head on his lap. Once Mitchell caught sight of him, he gestured to remain silent. He bent down and kissed the dark curls softly and extricated himself, leaving a now apparently sleeping Annie on the couch.

Mitchell then signalled for George to follow him to the kitchen. Once there, and he was sure that Annie had not woken up, he spoke, "Hey mate. I imagine you have questions."

"That's an understatement," George replied, his eyebrows stretched as high as they went. "What happened?"

"Well, apparently, Annie witnessed a car crash and the ghosts of the people killed were too keen on getting her through one of their doors."

"Like Saul," George added, remembering that awful experience.

"Yes," Mitchell replied, and after taking a moment to exhale loudly, and rub at his chin, he continued, "Though, she was a lot more shaken from this. They got to her by saying that soon we wouldn't be able to see her."

"That's ridiculous," George dismissed the idea.

"Well," Mitchell said, looking at the floor, beating himself up for what had transpired.

"What do you mean?"

"She came home, and…"

Mitchell's dead heart felt heavier than usual at the thought.

"And what?" George asked as anger started crawling under his skin. He felt where it was going, and he refused to accept the possibility.

"I didn't see her, George," Mitchell blurted out, and the pitiful look on his face told George enough about his regret. "I looked through her, and she couldn't speak, that's what she told me, afterwards."

Mitchell ran a hand through his hair, feeling every bit as old as each one of the years he carried with him.

"She came back to the house. You were gone, and I was getting ready... It was only momentarily…"

Mitchell's hands were moving about in the air, and he shook his head, leaning back against the sink, with his hands coming down in defeat.

"She was there, and I didn't see her, mate."

Mitchell let his fist hit the countertop.

"They really did a number on her, you have no idea the state she was in."

"God," was all George could muster.

"Thankfully she's calm now," Mitchell explained, with his head nodding towards the living room. I was amazed she let herself doze off."

"Is that the first time she sleeps?" George inquired, almost sure he already knew the answer.

"That I know of? Yes."

"Wow! What's that? Two years without even a wink? So much for sleeping when you're dead." The thought scared George.

"She was afraid of dreaming," Mitchell explained, but he left out precisely what nightmares he knew Annie feared. They both had decided to keep from George what awaited beyond the door. "She still is, but I think it was just too much. At least she seems calm and not as restless as before."

"What did you do to help her calm down?"

Mitchell had not anticipated that question.

"Ah… Just talk to Annie, be with her, I guess," Mitchell answered while he busied himself picking up mugs and taking them to the sink. "Right now, she seems to really need having us around, talking her and holding her hand."

George nodded as Mitchell spoke.

"She needs contact, that's it. She's afraid that if we're not looking at her or touching her, she's going to disappear."

"Poor thing," George said as he looked in the direction of Annie.

"Though I have a theory."

"Which is?"

"She seems to be affected by how confident she feels. She's empowered, and she's solid, humans can even see her. She gets taunted, and she's invisible. Now, they seemed to have really affected her to the point of us not being able to see her. At least that's the only explanation I can think of for why I couldn't see her."

George took a couple of moments to digest the theory.

"So, what do you suggest? A self-esteem seminar for spirits?"

"Don't be daft," Mitchell said with a deep frown.

"Well, I really…"

"Mitchell?" Annie interrupted, coming through the beaded curtain into the kitchen with a full head of unruly curls.

"Annie," George said her name, walking to her with determination.

"George!" Annie yelled, jumping to his arms, and letting him hold her tight.

"Annie, I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said, combing her hair with his fingers.

"Thank you, I feel better now."

"We're never leaving you, you hear me? We're not letting you go," George vowed with his face against her curls.

Mitchell watched the two people he cared the most in the world, embracing and something that had been tight in his chest seemed to start loosening.

"You told her that, right, Mitchell?" George asked, looking over Annie's head to his friend.

"He did, and I know," Annie said without letting go from George.

"So what do we do now?" George asked as Annie released him from the hug. The question was for everyone and nobody in particular.

"I don't know, nothing I guess," Annie sighed.

"Well, to start, we'll make sure that someone is always with you," Mitchell said, his tone more of an order more than a suggestion.

"I think I was just exaggerating. It wasn't that bad, really."

It was Annie's personality, to try to make it better, to not give herself too much attention.

"Annie," Mitchell said, fully aware what she was doing.

It was one of Annie's traits that could really upset him.

"Let's just drop it. Can I make you guys some tea?" she asked, deflecting and not really waiting for a response.

They both let it go and gave Annie the satisfaction of making things better through her tea.

"So George, I thought you were going to Nina's tonight," Annie said as she set the kettle on the stove.

"Well, I needed to make sure you were alright."

"Oh, that's nonsense. You only got back together! It's important to keep intimacy in such a delicate state of a relationship."

"Why does that sound like something out of a girl's magazine?" George asked, surprised at Annie's sudden change of mood.

"Because she's been reading your Cosmos," Mitchell explained getting the milk out of the fridge.

"I don't buy Cosmo!"

"No, you don't. You have a subscription," Annie explained while getting the mugs from the cupboard.

"I have never bought a subscription for Cosmo," George said offended.

"No, you haven't. I did, with your credit card," Annie said with her usual mischievous smile.

"Annie!"

"I guess I should have let you know about that before," she replied with barely the hint of a grimace.

"You knew! Why didn't you tell me?" He yelled at Mitchell.

"Cosmo magazine started arriving for Mr G. Sands. You're my mate, George. I love you, but I really didn't want to have that conversation with you. Anyway, who was I to question your reading preferences? I didn't know they were Annie's."

"You truthfully believed I'd buy it? Worse! That I'd be an avid reader?"

"You have been known to read Martha's Stewart Living in the past, you know?" Annie said, giving a cup to smiling Mitchell.

"Glad to know I provide the comic relief in this house."

"No, George! I love you. I wouldn't give up on the afterlife for anyone but you two," she said hugging George and looking over to Mitchell who was leaning against the counter, and while he smiled, something in his chest still ached at knowing what Annie had given up.

Even more, when he thought about the price, the split decision to ignore her door would have.

"I love you too, Annie," George said, remembering how close they'd come again to losing her. He thought about how difficult it had been letting himself like her in the beginning. George smiled, remembering just how she had sneaked into his heart despite all his efforts.

"And we love you too, Mitchell. Even if you don't want a three-way hug," Annie added, not letting go of George.

Mitchell looked on with a pleased grin, must of all, glad to see Annie reassured and happy.

For several people, Mitchell's work was as low and disgusting as jobs could get. Day in and day out he'd clean vomit, urine and faeces from the floors. Many female nurses who found him attractive wondered how someone who looked like him would be alright performing such a terrible task. But they didn't know that Mitchell would much rather deal with bodily secretions than clean after the bad accident victims. Thankfully, he seldom had to clean at the Emergency Room, so it was just the rest of the less 'glamorous' secretions in his line of work.

Not that he really enjoyed it either, but it didn't bother him.

Sometimes he even wondered if cleaning up the most basic products of humanity would count in his favour in the end. Doing his penance early, sort of speak. It was nothing compared to his evil deeds of the past, but he reckoned that it had to count towards something.

The key to his job was that it helped clear his mind. It could go utterly blank while he performed the menial, repetitive work. It brought much-needed relief to his ever-constant hunger.

But that night was not the case, though. He hadn't been able to get to that blessed blank zone for a few days. Mitchell suspected it was that he was still worried about Annie.

The fear of losing her consumed him.

That, and of course, the other thing.

Mitchell was interrupted continuously by flashes: the colour of the skin on her hip, the sound of her ghostly sigh, the smell of her curls, the taste of her kisses, the feel of her all around him consuming it all.

He felt too old and too cursed to be so obsessed with those memories. He'd try to chase the lovely glimpses away, but like a pendulum of doom, his mind would swing back to the fear of doors swallowing her away when she was out of his sight.

Mitchell's immortality came with the ability to go working and running for days without exhaustion, but the thoughts that were haunting him made his muscles ache and the weight of over a century slow down his steps.

He stopped mopping for a moment and leaned back on the dirty powder blue wall of the ward he was cleaning. He needed to get home, make sure that Annie was all right and lie down in the couch and watch something inane on the telly until he was, once more, a numbed dead corpse.

And who knew, maybe Annie would spend the night in his room again. Mitchell shook his head at that thought, a. nd instead, he looked up to see that thankfully his shift was almost over.

The way back to the pink house was no different to what his shift had been like, continually alternating between dangers hidden behind every corner, waiting patiently for Annie, and those forbidden thoughts about the two nights they had spent together.

As Mitchell opened the door and got inside, he bumped right into the source of his uneasiness.

"Hey, were you going out?" he asked, with a hand on her waist.

"Ah… yup," Annie responded, over-enunciating the final 'p'.

"Is George coming?" Mitchell asked, looking behind Annie for their friend.

"Ah… No…" Annie stammered, over-extending the vowel and keeping her full lips pursed while she looked around.

"You were going to go out on your own?! Annie!" he yelled with his eyebrows knit together.

"What? I'm 22… Actually, make that 25, and I don't need to ask you permission, or George's!"

"I'm not having this argument right now. Where is George?" Mitchell asked, walking to the living room and then the kitchen, looking for George and followed by a very disgruntled ghost.

"He left you alone?!" He asked, his voice going up a couple of octaves.

"No! He didn't leave me alone, and for your information, Mitchell, I do not need a babysitter."

Annie was sulking by then, and her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. The look on her face almost made Mitchell laugh. Her lips were so full that they were almost always in a pout, but when she really felt wronged, her pursed lips almost made her look like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"We've been through this," Mitchell said, with his hands up, trying to appease her.

"I know!" Annie yelled in response, with her arms in the air. "I know I was terrified, but I'm fine now. No pushy ghosts, no doors, no voices in the telly nor in any other appliances."

"Annie!"

"It's just..." she had to exhale loudly before she could continue, "I get stir crazy here. I've been here forever, and there's nothing new on the telly, and I've read every single book and magazine we own. I'm not kidding. I mean everything, including anything someone might have wedged between the mattress and the box-spring."

"Fine! Where is George then?"

"He's in his bedroom… with Nina."

"Ah, great, so he while he's having a shagfest you go out on your own. That's just perfect," he said sarcastically, letting his arms fall down loudly over his jeans.

"Oh, leave them be. They're young and in love and that's what you're supposed to do when you're young, and in love, you stay in bed as much as you can."

After she finished saying that they both remained silent, looking at each other but unsure of how to follow that statement.

"Okay then," he said, finally conceding.

"Okay, what?"

"Let's go."

"Where?" Annie asked, confused.

"What do you mean where? Out! That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied coldly.

"Why don't you look happy? Jesus woman! I'm so damn old, and I still cannot get women right," Mitchell said, rubbing his palms on his eyes.

He then lowered his hands, and turning towards her, he asked, "Or is it that you don't want to go out with me?"

"No, it's not that," she replied, shaking her head, but then she grimaced and added, "Well, maybe it is."

"Oh, Annie, you're going to be the death of me. Like, death for good," He said, half-laughing.

Annie shrugged before adding, "I just like thinking."

"I'll tell you what. I promise not to talk. If it makes a difference, I can even walk a few steps behind you."

"Like what? A bodyguard? That's just ridiculous. You can walk with me."

"That settles it then. Go on. Ladies first," he said, opening the door and standing on the side to let her go by.

"Are you sure? You look tired."

"Don't really need the sleep, do I?"

After a good silent hour of roaming through deserted streets, Annie finally spoke, "Oh, this is ridiculous!"

"Wandering the streets at night in the cold when we could be at home watching something on the telly? Yes, it is," Mitchell added, trying to annoy her.

"No! That's not what I meant. I mean just walking and not talking."

"I thought that was what you wanted," Mitchell explained, with his eyebrow rising high on his forehead. "You said you wanted to think."

"Well, I wanted to get out, I was feeling cooped up. Watching telly is boring."

"It's not when you have been out all day at work, and may I remind you that I spend my day moping piss and shit?" he added, budging her with his shoulder.

"It is when you're me, and I can't go to work, and I just stay home cleaning the place and picking up after you."

"What? Don't tell me you will start telling me, 'You never take me anywhere,' when did we turn into an old boring married couple?"

"You never buy me flowers anymore," she offered instead.

"You spend all my money," he countered, looking ahead, but Annie could see the corner of his mouth curling a bit.

"You're losing your hair," she added, barely keeping it straight.

"You only care about the kids."

"You snore."

"You stopped shaving your legs."

Annie had to stop, and she doubled over in laughter.

Mitchell stopped next to her, smiling widely.

"Wow," Annie said after composing herself, and linking her arm with Mitchell's, "that doesn't sound good, does it? Why are we always envying humans?"

"Because it's as lovely as it is awful," he replied, looking towards her, and then he looked down before he added, "And because we cannot have it."

Annie's smile disappeared all at once, and it made Mitchell sigh with sorrow.

"Yes, that's the thing."

They walked together longer, arm in arm. Mitchell would steal glances towards her from time to time, wondering what was going through her head.

"That's all I ever wanted, you know?" She said, a long while after, just like that, as if their conversation hadn't stopped. "Nothing more. Like that Gwen Stefani song 'A simple kind of life'? I should have known it was too much to ask. A house, a husband, the kids and the dog. All I wanted was an ordinary life. But it wasn't meant to be for me."

Whatever half-life he had was deserved, he thought, but it both angered and saddened him that she had been robbed of so much.

"No, you couldn't have had an ordinary life," Mitchell said, stopping them both and placing himself in front of Annie, close enough for her to have to look him in the eye, and he was able to see the question in hers.

"Because a life with you could never be ordinary."

She couldn't stop a tear starting to form in her eye, which Mitchell noticed and rubbed it away with his thumb. Mitchell's fingers slid until they cradled the nape of her neck. He looked at her mouth and then at her eyes as if asking permission and Annie moved the little space there was left in between them.

The kiss was slow and cautious, a kiss to forget a life not lived.

They didn't get to find out what it would lead to, because a voice pierced the night's silence.

"Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell… Are you going to fuck her or feed on her?"

Mitchell turned around to see two vampires: he recognized the man from decades ago, wiry with longish greasy hair falling over his face. The woman he didn't know, some pixie-looking thing with bubble-gum pink hair.

"Arthur? What do you want?"

"She looks tender and naive. Is he messing with your heart as well as with your panties, love?" The vampire said to Annie, ignoring Mitchell's question.

Annie stood there, holding on to Mitchell's jacket as he tried to shield her, noticing that his eyes had turned completely black.

"You don't talk to her. Leave before I have to make you. You don't want to look bad in front of your friend here," Mitchell warned his old acquaintance.

"Sorry to ruin your little con game. You always liked playing with your food, didn't you?" The vampire said, ignoring his threat.

"I thought you said he was on the wagon," the woman that had been quiet until then said, looking at Annie with interest.

"Someone told me the mighty John Mitchell was abstaining and I thought that was the most ludicrous lie I had heard in fifty years. And then I come here, and look what I find out," Arthur continued to taunt, as he paced around.

"What are you doing in Bristol? I thought you were banished."

"Well, he's dead, isn't he? See, we got wind of it all the way to London and now every fang Herrick scared off is back. It seems Bristol here is the new wild wild west. A town without law is a town with… opportunities."

"She's lovely, isn't she? All those bouncy curls!" The female vampire was now coming closer to Annie, extending her hand trying to touch her hair, over Mitchell's shoulder.

"You do not look at her!" Mitchell yelled, baring his teeth.

"Oh, Johnny boy, Herrick's golden child. You were never really good at sharing, were you?" He sneered.

"She's… different," the female vampire exclaimed, noticing something.

"How… exotic! A ghost!" Arthur finally said, a broad smile breaking on his face once he realized what Annie was.

"Is this another one of your pets, Mitchell? I heard you got yourself a golden retriever."

"You stay the hell away of me and what's mine," Mitchell said menacingly.

"Oh, I get it! You're into animals now, you got yourself a dog, and now you have a nice little canary. How is it biting her? I heard you were going vegan, but this is just ridiculous. After having her you, you must still be left feeling hungry. A bit like after eating Chinese food."

"Get away from here," Mitchell barked.

"Herrick is dead Mitchell. And you are probably weakened without proper nourishment. No offence sweetheart," Arthur said, looking at Annie who frowned disgusted at the newcomer. "And it's two of us here. Holly here, is quite feisty, you know? I fancy coming back to Bristol to take down Herrick's beloved child, who also happens to be the owner of the mutt who killed him. Imagine the street cred it would give me!"

Arthur launched himself at Mitchell. He had been expecting him, and he held him by the neck to stop him, but he had to let go of Annie to do so. As he did, he kept an eye on the other vampire who was sauntering towards her.

Annie had been silent all through Arthur's and his companion's taunts. It worried Mitchell, as he always hated showing his friends that this side of him. He feared them seeing him for what he really was, a monster.

Arthur took advantage of the distraction and hit him, releasing himself from his hold, Mitchell had to focus on him, but it meant turning his back to Annie.

"Annie, go!" he yelled.

The female vampire charged towards Annie. She was seething with the awful things the vampire had implied and didn't have time to think. Annie just looked at the woman and let her anger take her. A rubbish container came flying to the woman and knocked her out, and at the same time, Mitchell overpowered Arthur, beating him to the ground.

"Get the fuck out of this town, Arthur, and take your trash with you," Mitchell said icily.

"Don't get too smug, Mitchell. You know it's just a matter of time before someone else tries to take over Herrick's operation by mounting a nice wolf head on their mantle."

Annie gasped.

"That someone would have to take me out first," Mitchell said, feeling a murderous anger pump through his veins.

"Exactly," the fallen vampire said with an evil grin.

Mitchell took Annie's hand, and he walked away, feeling almost incapable of taming the demon in his blood. The threats had awakened him; it was the blind fury that had fueled the legend of John Mitchell, the vampire who had killed countless humans and vampires alike.

Only when they had gotten right outside of their house, Mitchell let his eyes go back to normal. He turned around and addressed Annie for the first time since the encounter.

"Are you all right?"

"I am," Annie answered almost too quietly.

"That was my fault," Mitchell apologized.

"Were they telling the truth? Is someone going to come for George and you?" Annie asked, the dread palpable in her tone.

Mitchell placed his hands on either side of her face, and he leaned in to speak, "I won't let them, Annie. You know I won't. You don't have to worry, most vampires wouldn't dare to mess with me."

"You mean with 'what is yours'?" She asked, raising one eyebrow.

Mitchell let his hands fall to his sides, and he looked down, shaking his head.

"That's what I need them to think," he explained, daring to look her in the eye in the end.

"We're your property? Your pets, then?" Annie asked, afraid of this other side of the person she thought she knew best.

"No! You know I don't think like that," he explained, and one of his hands dared hold on to the grey sleeve of her cardigan, "but I rather they do. Vampires are not good at sharing. We can be vicious when we feel wronged."

Annie brushed the curls out of his face, and she noticed the fear in his eyes, not for other vampires, but for the thoughts in her mind, the very ones he could not reach.

"I believe you," she said, reassuring him at last, and she let herself come closer to him, resting her head on his chest, and letting him embrace her.

"We just can't catch a break, do we?" She added.

Mitchell took a moment to hold her tighter, and he kissed her forehead.

"I'll make sure we do, darling. Let's go inside."

As they made their way inside, Mitchell sincerely hoped he'd be able to keep his word.