Thank you for the favs and follows! Again, much thanks to Fleem for being an fang-tastic beta reader! Some harsh language ahead - the characters are a bit stressed... All errors are my own. Enjoy!

Chapter Two: And Then What?

They had driven through the night, with George at the wheel of Mitchell's car. Annie sat beside him as navigator despite Nina's apparent reluctance to join Mitchell in the backseat. Mitchell, however, crowded the corner behind George, arms folded over his chest. He seemed oblivious to Nina's occasional tense glances, face set hard in introspection.

Leaving Barry had been an unceremonious event. Annie had simply told George to head into England then go north. Under the circumstances George kept off the motorways. It only seemed natural, though natural was far from anything George expected to experience again. Watching Honolulu Heights crumble into ruins had affected him in a way he hadn't quite processed yet.

By the time dawn tinted the sky with a dark blue George felt his nerves were settled enough for breakfast. His eyes were like cotton balls and he wanted to splash cold water on his face.

George broke the longstanding silence, "I'm going to pull off to find food."

"We're making good time George. We should keep going." Annie spoke without taking her eyes from the road, yet George could have sworn they were still that icy blue color.

"Annie, I need to wee and I think Nina should eat. We've the baby to consider." He accompanied the statement with a look that implored for reason. When she turned to acknowledge George his suspicion was confirmed. Her shining blue eyes met his.

"Fine, yeah, that's fine George. Sorry."

It hadn't taken him long to find a little 24 hour café. He mused to himself that it was much like the one he had worked at back when he first met Mitchell. He assumed now was not the time to mention that to Nina. George parked opposite the café and waited a moment in silence, mustering the courage.

He looked in the mirror out of habit, though Mitchell's reflection was absent. "Did you need anything, Mitchell?"

Mitchell's shook his head then seemed to realize that wouldn't be seen. His voice was rough and distant, "No." Then added, "Thanks."

George caught a glimpse of Nina preparing to say something to Mitchell, but then she stopped herself. Though she remained silent, George knew by her expression that it weighed on her heart. It was the look she had when she confessed to reporting on Mitchell about the Box Tunnel Massacre.

They walked across the street together, leaving Annie alone with Mitchell.

Mitchell hadn't moved a muscle since relinquishing the driver's seat to George. He hadn't argued when Annie demanded George drive. Actually, he hadn't spoken at all. He just sat and kept his thoughts to himself. He had been aware of Nina's glances, yet remained locked in his own world. But sitting in silence now, Mitchell found it difficult to remain focused on his own problems. Especially with Annie sitting as if alone, arms folded and unmoving in the front seat. His mind wandered to her.

"It spreads, Mitchell! What you've done has contaminated us all!"

Mitchell winced at the sound of Annie's voice in his mind. He looked at her again, still staring out the windscreen, lost in thought.

"Annie," he started, voice cracking.

Instantly tension spread across Annie's shoulders, down her back. She held up a finger without looking back. The gesture, Mitchell understood, was meant to silence him. She didn't want to talk. Willing enough to comply, he looked down at his hands.

"Mitchell… You do know that we can't go back to the way we were. You know, the four of us, friends. Lovers…"

We can't go back. I do know that.

Annie still didn't move more than to look down at her own hands. The action had mirrored his, though Mitchell knew she hadn't noticed. At a different time he might have smiled. This time George's voice invaded in his mind.

"You killed all those people. You don't say my name, now. You don't even look at me now. You are not my friend. You better go."

"Then I saw the look of contempt on my best friend's face, and I knew this had to stop."

Despite all that had happened since that moment, Mitchell felt the weight of his words even more. Nothing has changed, he thought. I shouldn't be here… He shifted slightly where he sat and looked out across the street. He could see George's face as he sat opposite Nina. The waitress had just set their order down and was refilling George's coffee.

Annie's tea.

The sight of the coffee set off a rush of images in Mitchell's head; all having to do with George and Annie and her tea.

All but one.

"Black coffee. No sugar. Just a splash of cold water from the tap… Hello Josie…"

Then he remembered the taste of her blood. His chin dropped. He pressed gloved hands against the tears filling his eyes.

The waitress refilled his coffee without saying a word and left them again. Nina was resting her head in one hand, staring at her eggs and toast without moving. George likewise made no move to start eating. Instead he spoke in hushed tones, holding his coffee but not drinking.

"We'll figure something out, Nina. We still have some time before the baby comes."

His voice lacked conviction and Nina didn't respond at first. After the delay she spoke with a ragged, tired voice. "Actually, George, that isn't what's bothering me."

The response seemed absurd to George. "Wh-what? Then what is?"

"Mitchell…" The name came in her exhale. "Oh God, George…"

George's back stiffened and he pushed himself away from the table, settling back in the booth. "Bloody brilliant," he said, sarcastically. "We are effectively homeless, running for our lives from the oldest vampires in the world, and you're worried that we should have staked Mitchell."

"No," Nina cried, "No, George. I'm glad we didn't. Jesus, I'm so…"

Nina stumbled for words. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, though she appeared not to notice. George just stared at her unable to form a reply. She sat back against her side of the booth and found George's eyes.

"Killing him would have been wrong. I should have stopped you then, but Wyndam interrupted. "

"Nina, I… I don't understand. Out of all of us, you have had the most problems with him. You were only uncertain about killing him before because it was me that had to do it."

"I know, I know. But, George, I…" She took a moment to gather herself. Then, "When Herrick reappeared and we took him home, Mitchell… Well, you agreed to stake Herrick. And I said…"

George interrupted, "That I had stood there in the kitchen and agreed to murder."

"Yes."

"But I changed that. I stopped Mitchell. I hit him. Threatened him, Nina. I disowned him…"

"I know. I'm not criticizing that George. What I'm trying to say is, I did that. I stood in the kitchen with you and Annie and agreed…"

She swallowed hard against a new swell of emotion. George's expression softened, realizing. Nina tilted her chin down and more tears spilled.

"I'm such a fucking hypocrite, George…"

George leaned forward and put his hand out. Nina managed a brief smile at the gesture and put her hands in his. He spoke calmly.

"You saw the state of him and he said… He said the vampire won. He had given up. He…" And then George's tears started. "You saw how he begged, Nina. What were we suppose to do?"

"I know…" Nina's voice was small. "But it's been going round in my head all this time. I've always had a problem with Mitchell, you know that."

George nodded and let her continue.

"I thought it had to do with old stuff, things from before I met you. I just thought he reminded me of bad times. Then, after… When I…joined this lifestyle… I blamed him, George. I blamed him because it was easier than blaming…"

She stopped, but George's eyes reflected the pain of guilt. Nina swallowed, shook her head, and went on.

"But I've been thinking about it. The night it happened, he was there. When you pushed me back, Mitchell kept me from hitting the wall. Instead, he did. And after, he gave me his jacket and talked to me. While you were raging away in the isolation room he and Annie explained about…all of it."

Nina gripped George's hand, her tears subsiding some.

"He knew before I did that I was a wer… He knew and he waited for me to get home with Annie. Oh God, George, he had been so supportive all along. But I was so angry and caught off guard."

"That was all natural, human reactions, Nina."

"Was it? Because I don't know, George. I really don't. When you met Mitchell, he had saved your life. You had been part of this world for six months already."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Nina gauged the distance of other patrons and spoke quietly. "Because, you said, vampires and werewolves don't like each other. But he was always trying to be helpful. I think the werewolf in me just didn't like him. There were times when, I didn't understand why, but I just wanted to tear him to pieces the way I saw you do to Herrick…"

Again, she stopped. She closed her eyes and her head tilted forward. George's eyes were fixed on her, processing all she had said.

"So," George started, "You've forgiven Mitchell? What about all those people he killed? I'm not saying we should have killed him, but do we do nothing?"

Nina looked across the table as new tears stung her eyes. "I don't know…"

"There was this…cancer… between us and you let me love you."

Her voice had carried so much pain and Mitchell had to press his lips down against the start of more tears. He tilted his head back and rested it against the seat and stared into the streetlight overhead. Mitchell felt the tears fall from the corner of his eyes. He did nothing to dry them.

"I'm going to kill again. We all know it… Because I have to. And because there's a part of me that wants to."

Nothing has changed… Mitchell relaxed his hands into his lap. A calm decision was forming in the back of his mind. Just the thought sent a wave of comfort through him.

"I'm so scared. It's going to be another train next time. Oh Jesus, or a school… Please George, you have to stop me. And if you can't do it for me, then do it for them."

Mitchell tried to remember where the stake was. He remembered Annie using it on the two vampires in the back garden and realized it must have been left behind. It frustrated him a little, but his mind wandered to the contents of the boot of his car. There must be something, he thought.

"I've made a horrible mistake."

It took a moment for it to register that Annie had finally spoken. He raised his head.

"What?" He asked as if he hadn't heard her.

"I'm so bloody stupid." Her voice was low and controlled, yet she remained staring straight forward.

"You had to get us out of there, Annie. We'll find another place to live." Mitchell meant to be comforting, but the words felt disconnected, distant, as if someone else were saying them.

"I don't mean about the house, Mitchell."

Mitchell sat forward more, suddenly uncertain of where this delayed conversation was heading. She turned her head to look at him, just for a moment. Hard, icy-blue eyes locked on him.

"I should have been sure about Wyndam." She turned away, "I should have staked him where he stood."

Mitchell let out a slow exhale and sat back.

"It was so fucking stupid…"

"And I killed a vampire. I've never so much as swatted a fly and I rammed a stake through his back... It spreads, Mitchell…"

Mitchell couldn't think how to respond.