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A SOFT REFUSAL

By NeuroticMuse413

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DISCLAIMER: Don't own Being Human though I wouldn't mind borrowing Mitchell for a night or two.

SUMMARY: Post Ep. 6. When Mitchell brings home a mysterious vampire victim, he discovers new ways to satisfy his thirst, as well as some emotions he didn't know he had. When Annie walks in on them, the furniture takes a beating and more than feelings erupt. Meanwhile, Nina struggles with telling George about her "condition" as he resorts to obsessive arts and crafts as a coping mechanism. M/A, G/N.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not British so I'm sorry if I messed up the dialogue.

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MITCHELL

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George was being… George. Now that he and Nina were trying to get back on track as a "normal" couple, it meant Annie and I were out of a house on days when he wanted to get laid. He'd been trying to ask her to move in for days but she seemed intent on ignoring him. Poor bloke. I knew how he felt. I'd been cock-blocked for weeks.

I sat on the front step till midnight. I'd gotten dressed to leave but Annie grabbed onto my sleeve and shot me one of her deadly puppy dog looks and I was down for the count. Better, I suppose. Clubs didn't really get fun till after midnight.

"I was thinking of heading out to Club Grimm," I offered some time later, my hands buried deep in my leather jacket. She just looked up at me from the front step as she did every time I suggested leaving the house. At home, she seemed fine since she could always keep an eye on me. At home, I might as well be the neutered pet in the corner, playing dead, waiting for the masters of the house to realize I was starving.

"Do you really have to go tonight?" she asked softly. I saw bits of the old Annie showing through. Suddenly, it was gone and I instantly missed it. "I mean, you wouldn't die if you kept it in your pants for one measly night. I thought George was the wolf, not you."

I chuckled. "Is that what you think I'm doing every night? Shagging some random girl?"

"Well you're not feeding, are you? You look like shit," she answered bluntly. I laughed harder, bearing my teeth. "Let me guess! You go bowling. You're taking a Spanish class at the learning annex. You're—"

I put up a hand between us, gesturing her to stop. "I'm asking you to come with me, Annie. You can keep an eye on me then... I promise I won't bite."

She squinted her eyes up at me but her brow was still knit and her lips were purses crookedly in her special I'm-trying-to-secretly-tell-you-you're-being-a-prat sort of way. Then, that all melted when a couple passed behind us and her feelings were wiped off her face. She was left blank.

"They probably think you're talking to yourself," she said lightly, staring at them as they passed.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, snapping from her to the couple. They were huddled under an umbrella, giggling away in their own little world. "They can see you. I'm telling you. They can see you. Unless… you don't want them to?"

She faced away quickly. "Forget it, Mitchell. I'm going to pay a visit to my grave. That always cheers me up. You go ahead. Go bowling or whatever the kids are calling it these days."

I chuckled and waved her off. She was in one of her moods. Ghostly PMS, we'd labeled it. It hadn't really gone away in a while so I naturally imagined the worst, a trait learned from George. I pondered all the reasons why she'd be angry on the way to Club Grimm. Was she angry at me for killing Lauren? For making George kill Herrick? For bringing the entire vampire community on our little house?

Or, was she angry at me for missing her chance at death? She gave all that up for me, to stay by my side when I was hurt. She missed her train. I'd be mad as a fucking hatter if I were her. I'd probably condemned her to an eternity in purgatory. I knew this and I lived with it. It was just another chip on my shoulder.

I was about ready to vomit when I got into Club Grimm. They knew me at the door since I was there every other night. I just sat in a corner, drank my sludge like everyone else, and watched the girls dance. Okay, I imagined them naked, in my bed, bleeding from their delicate, swan-like necks… but I held back. I'd resisted for weeks.

So, when Lee walked in wearing a ripped, black dress, splattered in blood, I jumped to my feet. She sauntered across the club like a present, or maybe some cruel joke meant to test my resolve. Or, maybe, she was both. I watched from the shadows like the monster I was, my mouth salivating and my fangs threatening to emerge. I felt them stabbing at my lips, just ready for that will to drop. My eyes must have looked like black abysses but nobody really looked you in the eyes at Club Grimm.

I watched her cross the dance floor to the bar in the back and sit, staring as though in shock at the mirror behind the elaborate rows of wine bottles. I couldn't see her eyes but everything about her seemed cold and empty. She raised a trembling hand and ordered a shot of tequila. I guess it was too dark for others to see the blood, though it was smeared all about her arms as though she'd been holding onto someone.

I took a few steps closer, trying to focus on her smell. The blood was not hers, that was for sure. It was vampire blood – the blood held the subtle hints of decay unnoticeable to human senses – and she had a very steady heartbeat. I relaxed upon hearing its beat the closer I got. It meant she wasn't one of my kind. This wasn't meant for me, I prayed. They hadn't found me.

That's when I realized what she was. A victim, probably in more ways than one.

The walk to her felt like it took a year. The thirst was messing with my sense of time, of motion, more so than usual. It turned me into a hunter the instant she walked in and wasn't letting go quite yet. As I came up behind her, it took every ounce of my concentration to make sure I gripped her arm gently, not forcibly. Hunger did curious things to strength, no matter the being.

She was staring right at the spot in the mirror where I should have been but wasn't and still didn't react in the least. She'd definitely seen vampires before. What's more, it was like she was waiting for me to come to her. She didn't jerk away at my touch. I could feel something beneath the ripped sleeves of her dress, almost like wires stretched over her skin, and realized they were scars.

"Don't do it here. You'd only expose yourself," she whispered as though sure only I could hear her. When I didn't' respond, merely continued to gape at her reflection, she continued, "Just get over with then. Don't make me beg."

The music was blaring behind us to the rhythm of strobe lights so nobody noticed the vampire with no reflection and the blood-drenched girl at the bar. She talked straight at the piece of mirror where my image should have been. I didn't reply, too lost in concentration and shock at the proximity of all that beautiful blood.

Then, she shut her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth, preparing for something. She bent her neck slightly as though welcoming the bite. I noticed there were no scars there, no puncture wounds. I realized later that there wouldn't be. The neck was a place reserved for lovers, an intimate spot. She would not have been bitten there.

"You know what I am?" I growled instead, my eyes black as night. I didn't need a reflection to tell me that.

She nodded and gulped, her eyes still shut. She was so tiny in my arms. I had to press myself up behind her so she wouldn't fall off the bar stool. She was in delicate condition, even if the blood was not hers.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered in her ear as calmly as I could, trying to hide the strain in my voice. "My name is Mitchell. I don't kill humans, I promise."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of my name. She finally turned and faced me for an instant, just long enough to scare the death out of me. I swear I almost heard my heart beat again, as deafeningly loud as a thunderclap, and my ribs tightened painfully. Was it guilt over what had surely been done to this poor girl? Was it shame for what I was? Or… was it fear? I could never tell. Even to this day.

After that instant passed, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed back onto my chest just as the bartender came back with her drink. Seeing her asleep in my arms, he finally paid attention to her state, to the rips and the blood, and probably began to panic.

"Is that blood?" he hissed at me, leaning over the bar with wild eyes. He cursed and reached under for a phone. I put a free hand up to stop him, carrying her in my other. Her head fell back over my arm, exposing her neck to me fully. My whole body shook.

"I've got it under control, Thomas," I told him. I was a frequent visitor to the club, after all. I had some leverage. "I work at the hospital, remember? Let me take her and you guys can save yourselves the bad press."

He put down the phone and gave me a cautious nod. In other words, he didn't like it and knew he'd probably regret it later on, but he couldn't risk calling an ambulance and possibly a police car to a club where half the people on the dance floor were high on one drug or another.

I swallowed down the shot of tequila she'd ordered and threw her arm over my shoulder. I wrapped my other arm around her waist and lifted her up onto her feet. I was dragging her but nobody noticed in the lights. If anyone shot me a weary eye, I smiled at them reassuringly and they swiftly went back to ignoring us.

I carried her to the alley next to the club and sat her up on a high pile of crates. The bloodlust was getting easier as I realized she had no fresh wounds on her anywhere. I took her cheeks in my palms and brought her face to the steady light overhead. She obviously recognized my name but I didn't recognize her face. Though, that hardly meant anything since Herrick was killed. My name was on the lips of every vampire from Bristol to Edinburgh.

I tried to wake her, shook her a bit, but her heart was slow and calm and it almost hurt to disturb her. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. In some sense, she looked like me. I realized then that she was just a victim, meant to be pitied and cared for, not some offending specter from my past or a human weapon from my present foes.

If I just thought of her as a victim instead of a human being, it made it easier to care for her.

"Come on, beautiful," I whispered, smearing away a drop of blood on her cheek with my thumb. "Show me those pretty blue eyes again."

She stirred and her hand shot up to my wrist, tearing me off her. "Don't touch me like that, vampire. I haven't given you the right."

I laughed softly. "You gave me the right the moment you collapsed in my arms, thank you very much. Look around, sweetheart. You're torn up, covered in blood, and walking through the dull streets of Bristol. You don't really have anyone else."

She stared at my teeth, my smile, and I wondered if she was looking for my fangs, waiting for them to appear. Were they even hidden? Did my eyes flare black at the sight of her? She was lovely, I'd give her that, beneath all the blood and bird nest hair.

She blinked twice, probably the most I'd seen her blink all night, looked around, and relaxed. She knew that if I wanted to kill her or rape her, I would have done so already. We were alone in an alley by a club, where all our voices were smothered by the rhythm inside. She was easy prey.

"Sorry. I didn't realize it was you," she answered softly. I noticed the change in her tone. She was warmer now, tired as though the shock were subsiding.

"Do we know each other?" I asked.

She shook her head and rested back against the brick wall of the alley. She let go of my wrist and my hands dropped, heavy as stone, by my sides. "Only by reputation," she said, her voice slurred by exhaustion. "You killed Herrick. The vampires are abuzz."

"So I'm famous, then?" I chuckled drily but didn't correct her. It was better for us if the vampires thought I, not George, killed Herrick. "Might I ask what a girl like you is doing hanging around vampires? I don't intend to be self-deprecating but we're not exactly a cuddly sort. And why the hell, might I ask, are you covered in vampire blood?"

Tears started to form in her eyes, the memories probably replaying in her mind. I instantly regretted my questions. They weren't important. She wasn't a danger to me and she needed help. She just sniffed though and the pain seemed to recede off her face behind some imaginary wall.

"It's my brothers. He was turned four months back," she confessed.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes locked on mine but my heart didn't stutter like it did in the club. Whatever spell she had on me was done with.

"Don't be. It wasn't his fault. He tried to fight it, like you… You're fighting it right now, aren't you? You look in pain."

I gulped but continued to smile, relaxed and charming as ever. "You're the one covered in blood. Look, I don't know who's after you but I've got a place around here. You can get cleaned up. It's safe."

She looked away for a moment, pondering. Then, she nodded weakly back at me, her eyes glazing over. I bent down a bit to get a better look.

"You're going to be okay. I promise," I reassured her. It was my every intention, the bloodlust quickly dying now.

She shot me a weak smile and said, "Don't worry, Mitchell. It's not in me to distrust your kind."

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GEORGE

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Nina and I were serious. I guess. I mean, she didn't run away screaming or send the villagers after me with pitchforks so I'd labeled my big reveal more or less a success. It's not like I'd ever imagined telling her so I didn't really have much to compare it to.

The only problem was that if we were, you know, "okay" as she'd said, then why was she avoiding the shit out of me the last few weeks. I knew I had to give her space but how long did one need to cope with the existence of the supernatural. Television must have prepared her for this.

It was our three-month anniversary but I was sure she didn't remember. She'd never remembered that sort of thing before, at least never bothered to celebrate it with me. I'd planned on surprising her with dinner when she came over after work that night but it was near 10:00 and she still hadn't shown. I dialed her mobile and, surely enough, she was working the late shift. Again. On our bloody anniversary.

I'd sent Mitchell and Annie away so I was pretty much left to rot in my hairy boots, staring at my centerpiece for an hour or two or three. I figured she'd be home around 5:00 and decided to wait for her on the slim chance that she didn't go straight to her apartment. All her things were in my closet. I didn't honestly see what the big leap was all about but Annie and Mitchell had warned me against moving too fast after the big reveal. At this rate, we'd be having kids when we were 60.

I didn't really mind waiting up for her since I wouldn't be sleeping anyway. Who could with the state of the world? I put away all my crappy food – made with love, of course – and went to calmly read my newspaper on the kitchen table.

Annie poked her head into the kitchen around 4:00, checking up on me no doubt. What, did she think I'd brought the roof down or something? You set a dishcloth on fire once and you never bloody live it down but Mitchell kills a harem of virgins in Morocco once upon a time and gets set loose on a hospital full of horny nurses like it's all good. There's just no justice in the world.

"Did you two have a fight?" asked Annie sheepishly, her mouth hidden behind plaster.

Of course she'd think that. I always read my newspaper after a fight with Nina. It was easier keeping things in perspective when you read about how crappy everyone else has got it. Tonight, it'd been lying conveniently by and it was either that or the Cheerios box which wasn't, coincidentally, very cheery either.

"No no," I told her quickly, folding up the newspaper and gesturing for her to grab a seat. "I just went totally daft all of a sudden and forgot she was working the late shift."

She smiled and came to sit beside me, grabbing an empty mug from the table in her hands. It was a habit she had, I'd noticed long ago, from her human days.

"How was the ol' grave?" I joked, taking a sip of my own tea. She mirrored me but didn't actually drink. Mitchell and I wondered if she noticed when she did it.

"It was lovely. I scratched out Owen's name with a crowbar," she answered cheerily, like such violent acts were to be applauded. In her case, I suppose it was, so I did.

It's amazing what turning down death does to one's self-esteem. It was also lovely not to hear Owen's name being gushed out every other sentence anymore, not since we found out he was a murderous psychopath. It was getting a big sick.

She suddenly turned her attention to my place settings. "George? Did you make this centerpiece?"

I went a little red around the ears. "Maybe."

She stifled giggles.

"WHAT?!" I screeched. "She just found out I was a murderous, furry beast with moodier times of the month than she'll ever have so pardon me if I pull out all the stops."

Annie hid her face in the empty mug again to hide her wide smile. I suppose it was nice to see her smile again, even if it was at my expense. "Sorry. Sorry. It's just… George, you covered plastic apples with glitter."

I opened my mouth to defend my decorative choices when the door suddenly burst open and we both stood up in a rush. It was Mitchell with a girl asleep in his arms. He went to carry her up the stairs, mumbling something like, "Hey guys. This is Lee. She needs a place to clean up. Later."

Annie and I shared a concerned look before running up after him. "What happened to her?" asked Annie, appearing by his side before I ever got to the top of the stairs. Man, was I getting out of shape? One would think running through the woods at all hours would be great exercise but all I'd managed to develop was a rather nice bum.

"She's just tired," said Mitchell. "She's been feeding her brother for a while."

I filled in the blanks as Annie went to get a bath started. "He was a vampire?"

"Yup," he replied as if nothing.

"Mitchell, where did you even find her?" asked Annie, popping back in. I heard the water run in the distance. Mitchell had the girl set down on his bed and he'd begun to gently remove her clothes. I sputtered something about giving us a warning before he undressed strange, blood-soaked girls in front of us but nobody seemed to notice me.

"Club Grimm. She just walked in. I think she's been walking all night. The blood's not fresh," said Mitchell as he handed Annie some ripped pieces of dress. She squealed when he ripped off a final piece, leaving the girl in her black strapless bra and panties. I gulped. I really hoped Nina didn't walk in just then.

I helped him carry her over to the bathroom and we sat her down on the edge of the bathtub. Annie cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me guys but I think maybe I should take over."

Mitchell and I both threw our arms in the air in surrender. Annie had a very commanding voice when she wanted, especially now that she could storm vampire strongholds and make things blow up with her mind. It was going to come in really handy next time one of the neighborhood kids decided to use our front door for target practice.

We stepped out and sort of lingered in the hallway, not sure where to go or what to do, scratching the back of our heads. Men, as a gender, were kind of useless in situations like this. Annie seemed to know exactly what to do so we let her at it. We headed down to the kitchen and sat silently around the kitchen table.

That's when the first, rather obvious, question came to mind. "Mitchell… you didn't bite her, did you?"

He didn't seem offended at the accusation. He was sort of used to us mistrusting him ever since he decided to go Dark Side last month. "No. Trust me. I'd be looking a whole lot better than I do now. You can check. She doesn't have any fresh wounds."

"No no! I trust you. I was just checking."

He believed me and went to make her something to eat. "She seems exhausted. The soles of her shoes are almost worn through," he said to no one. He was pensive, staring off at nothing. He heated her up some of the food meant for the still-elusive Nina and came back to wait with me at the dinner table.

That's when, after a quick sip from my now-cold coffee, he noticed my centerpiece. He furrowed his brow, turned to me slowly, and asked, "George, did you glitter up a plastic apple?"

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ANNIE

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We all saw the scars, briefly, when Mitchell tore off her clothes but nobody said anything. Nobody gasped. We were used to scars around here. It was a quick glance and the boys didn't want to focus on her too much since she was two steps away from being naked. But I did.

Knelt down beside her in the tub, I could see every mark. It was hideous, extensive. Some holes seemed to have been used repeatedly, making craters on her arms. It was restrained to her arms and lower legs and she was still too drowsy to interrogate. I had a thousand questions flying through my mind.

Did it hurt? Well, that was stupid. Of course it did. Did her brother do that or was it more than one? For how long had she been giving herself up like that?

She stirred in the tub and shot awake, splashing water about. I managed to dodge it. I held onto her shoulders, keeping her grounded. She scanned my face for some familiarity but couldn't find any.

"Hi! Hi!" I quickly shouted. "Sorry, I'm Annie! I'm Mitchell's friend. You're at our flat. You're safe."

She sighed but her chest continued to heave for a bit. She looked around at the soapy sponge in my hands and the bloody water all around her. I handed it to her and she shot me a tired but grateful smile.

"Thanks, Annie," she croaked, going to get the dried up splotches of blood on her thighs. "I've got it now."

"Do you want me to go?" I asked, going to stand.

She shook her head. "Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven't seen another human up close in days."

I chuckled nervously and began to ramble. "Uh, I'm not really human. I'm sort of… well, I'm a ghost. Sort of. I was. I kind of turned down death so I haven't a clue what I am now but I was ghost a month ago. Still dead, I guess. Oh and George, the other one you probably saw carrying you into the bathroom? He's a werewolf. I know. It's like the setup for a bad sitcom but we're all good friends and—Shit! Sorry! I'm talking too much!"

She laughed, too softly to really count. "No, it's nice. Please. Go on. I don't care what you say. It's just nice to have someone to talk to."

I paused and pondered my questions well. "How long have you been with vampires?"

"Vampire," she corrected. "One. My brother. He was sick. Herrick came to us at home, offered him immortality… he never said what would happen when he got hungry. He killed his girlfriend the first night. He came to me, begged me to keep him from hurting anyone else. I locked him up and, well, did the best I could."

"You were very brave," I whispered, watching her limp hands move the sponge slowly over her bare thighs. If it weren't for the scars, she'd be beautiful.

"He's family. You just have to do what you can, you know."

I nodded. I knew very well. Mitchell and George were family. I'd given up death to stay by their side. I didn't regret it yet but I knew a moment would come when I would, maybe years from now when George or Nina died and me and Mitchell would be left to wander my living room all alone. I'd thought about the situation when that happened. I'd pretty much agreed to be Mitchell's companion for eternity. I didn't really mind the company. I loved Mitchell, just like I loved George. What bothered me was that I was actually looking forward to eternity with him.

"Is he your only family?" I asked, just trying to break the silence and my own wandering thoughts.

"Yup. The last of us. My own bloke left me when I kept breaking all our dates to hang out with my brother in the attic so yea, Jamie was the last of us."

Her words didn't escape me. "Was?" I echoed softly.

Just then, her brave, distant face and all her concentration faded away. The pain came forward, skewing her face. She began to sob silently and turned her face from me. I ran my hand up and down her back as she hugged her knees in the water.

"I killed him," she mumbled sometime later through a curtain of tears. "I couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't see me in pain. So he asked me to do it. He asked me to kill him."

I covered my mouth with one palm and continued to soothe her with the other. I could only imagine her pain but I wasn't surprised. I'd seen worse in that funeral parlor dungeon. But it was still hard to watch someone so broken, so permanently scarred. I was at least intact.

"We keep going, Lee," I said, sure of my words. "I know what it's like. You keep going till you can't give anymore. I know. It's okay now. It's over. He's free, and so are you."

The sobbing got louder. It lasted another half hour and then I helped her out of the tub. I wrapped a towel around her and carried her out to Mitchell's room. It's not like he'd been sleeping the last month. I doubted he'd mind having a pretty girl in his bed. I hesitated at his bedroom door. He was still downstairs but I didn't like it. Something in me hated the idea of him having another girl up here. It was like I was already claiming him as my own. He was my companion, not this girl's.

I swallowed all that silliness away and helped her sit down on the bed. I covered her up in his sheets and watched her instantly doze off. I heard his footsteps up the stairs behind me. Mitchell stood in the doorway, watching us with knitted brows and crossed arms. He looked right through me to the girl in his bed and I felt invisible all over again. I knew that was impossible, that Mitchell could always see me, even the parts I hid from myself. But it still made my stomach flip nervously and my heart shriveled up at the thought of being erased again.

He walked right past me and pulled up the sheets around her. He kissed her forehead and whispered lovingly, "Sleep tight, pretty girl. You're safe."

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I wanted to make this a one-shot but it looks like it's going to be a short novella. What do you think? Should I continue it? And before you ask, no, this is in no way a Lee/Mitchell story. It's Mitchell/Annie. So don't you fret. More jealous fun and lurid misunderstandings coming soon.

Reviews are better than late-night… bowling.