Firstly, I would just like to apologise for the length of the chapter... Secondly, thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has reviewed, they've been really great for writer's block and the constructive criticism really helps me with my writing style!

Anyway enjoy the chapter.

Once Hal had smoked the cigarette that Mitchell had rolled for him, he made a resolution to not smoke again. No matter how it made him feel, how it quelled the bloodlust for a moment or two, now was not the right time for him to be doing so. He let himself back in through the kitchen door, and back to the living room, where Mitchell was still sitting.

'Mitchell, I need to tell you something.' Hal said, Mitchell looked to him slightly surprised, and with an expression on his face that he was expecting the worst.

'You didn't feed did you?' The elder vampire looked taken aback at the thought, and quickly shook his head.

'No, nothing like that.' He paused, unsure of how to explain what he knew. 'I know who killed Nina. Well, not who exactly killed her, but who ordered it.' Mitchell's eyes widened slightly, and he seemed more attentive.

'Who?' For a moment Hal said nothing, wondering whether it was really the right idea for him to be telling Mitchell this, considering that he would probably go along and help George kill the guy.

'Wyndam. I went to see him to-day at Stoker Imports.' Mitchell fixed him with a curious stare.

'Why?'

'I went to tell him to leave us alone. But listen Mitchell, you can't act against him.' At Mitchell's defiant expression he continued. 'He's an Old One, he's probably nearly at the top now as well, God knows what would happen if you did anything to him.'

'He deserves it.'

'I know he does, but you just can't do that.'

'You could?' Hal remained silent. There was no way that he was going to try and kill Wyndam, he was trying to remain under the radar for Christ's sake.

'I haven't fed for fifty years, I'd be staked in a minute.' He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to calm the nervous feeling. 'I don't even know why I told you, but maybe... Maybe if we find out who killed Nina, who actually physically killed Nina, then we could get pay-'

'It's just going to be one of his lackeys, you know that.' Hal nodded.

'It's better than nothing. You can not kill Wyndam.'

'Why are you protecting him?' Mitchell's voice had suddenly become more angry, and Hal found himself taking a step back.

'Because Mitchell, we will be killed ourself for that. There a preposterous amount of vampires on this island at the moment.' Mitchell looked like he was going to argue more, but then his body slumped and he relaxed back onto the sofa, relenting. But what neither of the two vampires realised was that at the top of the stairs George was listening to every word they said.

–/-

After he heard the conversation, George couldn't get the words out of his head. Wyndam had killed Nina, and it seemed as if the only emotion that was permeating the wall of grief he felt at the moment was pure, undiluted rage. As he lay on his bed, their bed, and looked up into the ceiling, for the first time since Nina's death he felt something, and that was better than nothing.

But he couldn't help the anger he felt towards the two vampires downstairs, first the posh-one, he was keeping a secret from him, and secondly Mitchell, Mitchell of all people had screwed everything up. He was still here, if George had killed him, there would be no Wyndam, no threats, no nothing. He, Nina, Eve, and Annie would be living together in peace, and happiness, there would be no bloody vampires to cause problems.

His breath grew ragged as he turned these thoughts over in his mind, and studied the cracks in the ceiling of the dingy bedroom. If he looked anywhere else he would be reminded of the life he had lost. Nina's clothes still remained, and little things, just like the book she was reading was left on the bedside table or the fact that he rings remained on the desk. Just like she would be coming home the next day, but she wouldn't. She never was.

He began to cry, tears falling down the side of his face, and onto the pillow beneath him. And for a moment he almost let himself get caught up in his grief, but this time the rage he felt against vampires pulled him out of it. His eyes closed, and for a moment he lay on the bed completely immobile, when he opened them again they were red from crying, but no tears escaped them. Not now, instead they reflected a steely desire for revenge. Slowly he turned his head and looked at the calender on the bedside table, a full moon was coming up, and in his mind an idea blossomed.

–/-

'Tom you can change in the cellar if you want.' George spoke the young werewolf, trying to disguise the hope in his voice, but he felt as if a tiny bit sneaked through, since Tom regarded him suspiciously.

'Nah, it's fine. I like changin' in the woods.' Biting back annoyance, George tried to put on a friendly smile.

'Well. I was just thinking since there were all the problems with the vampires...' Manipulation had never been his strong suit, but Tom was so innocently naïve that he might just buy it. Tom looked at him for a moment, and George felt slightly bad for what he was doing, but then the young man nodded and George gave a slight smile.

'Alrigh' then.'

–/-

'So Hal then? What do you think of him?' Ivan asked Mitchell as he took a sip of the whiskey he was holding.

'He's odd.' Mitchell didn't quite know how to describe the old vampire. 'It's almost as if he's schizo or something you know.' Ivan didn't say anything, waiting for him to elaborate. 'When I met him- the first time- he was this evil intimidating vampire who Herrick was scared of, and now he's this OCD guy. I don't know. He's the same person obviously but, it just seems like he's different as well.'

'It's what happens when you do this for too long.'

'Do what?'

'Give up blood. You all crack eventually.' Ivan looked him over once and then gave a grimace. 'I mean, you look like shit now.'

'Yeah, you tell me that every time.' Mitchell looked around the small bar they were sitting in, there weren't many people around, the other patrons were sitting in the corners of the bar talking quietly, it was only early after all. But Mitchell felt an achievement at being here, he hadn't ripped anyone's throat out, nor had he felt the urge to. Yet.

'When was the last time you had a proper drink?'

'Box Tunnel.'

'But didn't you say you were strapped in a chai-'

'I was regressing.' The two didn't say anything to each other for a moment, until Mitchell suddenly realised something. 'What happened to the other vampires in Bristol?'

'The ones who were in the explosion?'

'No, the other vampires who didn't get blown up. Yeah, of course those ones.' The Irish vampire retorted sarcastically, Ivan remained silent.

'I'm not sure. I guess they would be coming here.' Mitchell's eyes widened slightly, and for measure he took a big gulp from his drink.

'Here? To Barry?'

'It was the last place Herrick was seen, so I suppose so.' Ivan scrunched up his face and thought. 'I mean, I guess that's probably not great for you then, but at least it'll liven things up a bit.' In reply Mitchell said only one word.

'Shit.'

–/-

'Hal!' He called into the house as soon as he was in, George and Tom were transforming, and Annie didn't even sleep, so he didn't mind about waking people up. Mitchell waited for a minute, and sure enough Hal emerged at the top of the stairs, wiping his eyes groggily.

'What? Christ what time is it?'

'Come down here, there's a problem.' He gave a sigh of exasperation and made his way slowly down the stairs, which creaked as he did so. Once he was down Mitchell walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, and offered one to Hal, which he declined. 'You might want it.' Ignoring Hal's refusal, he poured the other vampire a drink, which he set on the surface of the bar.

'What is is it then that is so monumentally important to be pulled out of bed for? Mitchell gave a grimace and took a sip of the sherry, which appeared to be the only alcohol in the house at this point strangely.

'The Bristol vampires are coming here.'

'And?'

'I was the fucking leader of the Bristol vampires, so either they're going to go off and be friends with Wyndam and co. or they're gonna be right at our bloody doorstep.' Hal didn't say anything.

'So what you're saying, is that, tons of vampires are going be turning up here.'

'Pretty much.'

'Or they're going to be trying to kill us or something?'

'Yeah.' Hal reached for the drink, and downed it in one; his face screwing up at the taste of the cheap sherry.

'Who told you this?' Mitchell didn't say anything. 'It was Ivan wasn't it. He is probably going to lead them right to us.' A heavy sigh escaped Hal's mouth and he shook his head slightly. 'I can't be here.'

'You have to, you're the only one protecting us from Wyndam,' Mitchell paused, 'and you're not bad t'have around.' If Mitchell wasn't as tipsy as he was, he wouldn't have said the last part of the sentence, especially since Hal tensed up, and became more awkward than he usually was.

'Thanks.' He finally bit out. 'But that does not change the fact that I will probably become a mass-murdering psychopath if I'm around th-'

'They won't be here for long, I'll kick 'em out or something.' With a dismissive shake of his head, he began to describe them. 'They're harmless really, mostly new recruits, they'll just be wanting to find direction or something.' For a second Hal looked as if he was about to refuse to stay, but then he nodded.

'I'll stay then, but you have to help me if...' He trailed off, but Mitchell understood. Hal stopped speaking, but he felt a certain shakiness come upon him, and familiar clenching in his arms and chest. 'Sorry, you wouldn't mind if I had another cigarette off you.' This one would be his last, he promised himself it would be, but in the back of his mind he knew that it really wouldn't.

–/-

Near the entrance to Stoker Imports lay a knapsack, a set of clothes, and mobile phone, inconsequential items, but highlighted in the light of the full moon, all laying in wait for the morning. The owner of the clothes however, had snuck into the vampire HQ, and lay in wait for the change to come upon him. The vampires were inside too, talking or some such, and as George felt the transition begin, he couldn't help but have a small grin on his face.

Next time: Dramas.