Disclaimer: Neither Being Human or Twilight are owned by me. This is just a little project I thought would be fun!

I haven't read much of the Twilight books, only seen the movies, so my understanding is based on that.

This is set after the first chapter of the Twilight saga and the first series of Being Human, and a few weeks before the second segment for both. I originally started the story then (instead of ages later) but it got lost with my old computer so thought I'd redo now.

Chapter 1

I don't think you've thought this through.

George let out a whimper in bed. The dream was there again. Herrick stood in front of him, his features pale and intense. He was frightened. It showed on his face. But not as frightened as George.

You touch me, you cross a line. Once you do that, there's no going back. Believe me, I know.

Then the dream became a mess of claws and teeth. Sometimes, before he lost himself, he'd see Mitchell and Annie standing by his side. Trying to stop him. This time, the dream went all the way through to its grim conclusion. There was Herrick again, a look of triumph now on his face. His eyes were piercing.

Come on.

Those eyes. Those horrible eyes.

Do it!

Come on, you fucking freak!

Do it!

With a start, George awoke. He was drenched in sweat and felt terrible. Next to him, Nina stirred but did not wake up. He knew she dreamt as well; nightmares of him in that room, transforming into a beast she'd had no idea existed before. But he envied her-it may be a stretch to come to terms with something you thought of only as a myth, but it was nothing compared to coming to terms with the fact that you killed someone. Herrick had been a danger. A danger to Mitchell and George, and to Annie, and possibly the whole world. A malignant tumour that needed removing. So why was his death haunting George so much?

Because you embraced the beast, George, came the response. The werewolf was you that night. Like never before. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and settled back down into bed. It was coming up to four in the morning.

In the next room, Mitchell did not even try to sleep. He was sat up in bed, the lights turned on. He was thinking. He had thought a lot since that terrible day; the worst of the terror was over, but he had to think about the future.

Sooner than he would be ready for, other vampires would come for him. He wasn't worried about the Bristol coven; the remaining members had fallen underground. They feared him and, especially now, feared George. But the world was pretty big, and a werewolf killing a vampire, even a psychotic tyrant, would be avenged.

Out of the deepest corners of his mind, something surfaced. A memory he hadn't brought up in so many years. Whether he went to London, Manchester or Glasgow the vampires there would happily tear him apart. He had no doubt Herrick's death had already circulated around the UK from the survivors of his coven. If he was really unlucky, it may have reached Italy. Any coven he appealed to for help would know of what had happened and he would be killed.

Except one. He took his mobile from the bedside table and dialled a number from memory. Christian Durvik had been one of Herrick's vampires in Bristol, but had moved to Manchester and defected. He'd been a good friend to Mitchell in the past, and he'd spoken to him a few times. He was a useful friend to have.

"Hello?" the voice on the other side of the phone did not sound tired, like humans would if you called them at four in the morning. Mitchell was one of the few diurnal vampires, and it was a pattern set by a work schedule and flatmates who didn't sleep in the day.

"Hello, Christian."

The voice was silent for a few moments, but Mitchell could hear heavy breathing on the other side. He waited patiently.

"Is that you, John?"

"It's me. How are you doing?"

"What are you calling here for, John?" The voice was suddenly panicked. "Things have been said over here. That the one that killed Herrick was a fucking Lyco, and you told him to do it? That you're taking over in Bristol?"

"That's not true," Mitchell replied. "But I know I'm in trouble. You don't have to tell me that."

Christian was virtually whispering, as if even talking to him was dangerous. Actually, Mitchell mused, it probably was. "If you're asking if I can get Manchester to help you, I can't. Marsden said he'd tear your throat out personally if he saw you again."

"He hated Herrick," Mitchell said with a contemptuous snarl.

"Stop being so naïve. Of course Marsden hated Herrick. The same as Ridgeworth down in London. The same as, dare I say it, the big cheeses down in Volterra. He was a fascist and a bully boy. But you killing him, for whatever reason you did it, is a serious break in the chain of command. And if it's true that it was a werewolf that you're working with, then it's an even bigger risk. You know that, John, so stop being a prick."

We don't work together. We're friends. The words were almost out of his mouth, but he decided against them. It would be futile to try to explain about George to a vampire that was still drinking, hunting and werewolf-hating.

"I know the drill," he instead said bitterly. "I'm not looking to come to Manchester. I just hoped you could give me some information."

A sigh from the other line. "What do you need?"

"The Olympia coven." Mitchell intentionally left a pause. "Where are they now? The last I heard they were in Alaska, but that was years ago. I was thinking…maybe they could help me."

He heard Christian laughing. "The Cullens? They hate you more than anyone!"

"That's true. But at least I'll get a fair hearing. Everyone else will kill me on sight."

Christian sighed. "I guess. Alright John, for you. But we never spoke."

"Agreed"

"They're not in Alaska anymore," Christian said, whispering even more. "They're in Washington is what I heard. For the first time in a hundred years, or thereabouts. It's a little town called Forks. Now, I don't know their address, but-"

"But it won't be difficult to find them," Mitchell said with a nod. "Thanks, Christian."

He would leave as soon as he could.

When I eventually caught up with Alice Cullen, she looked troubled. She was sitting on a wall outside the cafeteria. The rest of the Cullens were not with her, something that puzzled me. It was a typical afternoon in the Pacific Northwest; the skies were overcast and cloudy, and there was a light rainfall.

Alice looking troubled meant only one thing; that she had seen something that she didn't want to see. Something bad. I stayed silent for a moment, then decided to speak.

"Hey." I put a hand on Alice's shoulder. "What's up?"

"Oh, hey." Alice smiled lightly. "It's okay, it's just, someone we…knew has died."

I moved to hug her. "I'm sorry."

Alice shook her head. "No, that was weeks ago. And that was a good thing. But now…someone's coming. Someone I haven't seen in a long time."

"What for?"

"I can't see that," Alice replied with a shrug. "He's a vampire. A different type to us. One I can't read well. But he's coming. And Bella, maybe it's best if you get out of town. At least for a while."

"No," I said shortly. "There's no point in me being with Edward, and the rest of you, if you have to hide me all the time. Besides, especially if it's one guy, can't be any worse than James, right?"

"Right," said Alice unenthusiastically, thinking about the last time she saw John Mitchell.

"Where are you going?" Annie asked Mitchell concernedly as she watched her friend hurriedly pack a suitcase. It was now five in the morning. She rarely slept these days, especially after everything that had happened. That was one of the positives of being a ghost; she could stay up all night worrying without lack of sleep becoming a problem.

"I just need to go on a trip," said Mitchell, trying his best not to sound dismissive. "I've got some business to sort out."

"What business?" asked George, coming down the stairs. He's been worrying as well, Annie thought, although with him it's more noticeable. George looked exhausted. She could only wonder what it felt like to be a killer. "Mitchell, where are you going?"

"I just have to take care of something," Mitchell replied. "If I can get it sorted, we might not have to worry about…you know. At least for a while.

"You can open up, you know," said Annie. "At least to George. He deserves to know, seeing as he was the one that-"

"...Killed someone," Said George, cutting in. "Yes. Thank you for reminding me."

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that," said Annie. "Anyway, Mitchell, George might give up easy but I won't. I'll never give up unless you tell me what's going on." She grinned. "Come on, Mitchell. Come on. Come on. Come on!"

"Okay!" Mitchell had to stifle a grin of his own. "Okay. Now, there's this big coven in Italy. A coven just like the operation Herrick ran in Bristol, but much bigger. The Volturi. They're a bit like…they're the UN of the vampire world. They control everything."

"And that's who you're going to see?" asked George.

Mitchell laughed, remembering how little he'd told George of his world. "No, mate. If I went to the Volturi, they'd kill me. Then they'd find out where we live and kill both of you. They're dangerous."

"So where are we going?"

"We?" Mitchell shook his head. "Just me. I'll be going alone. This is vampire business. The only way the Volturi, and any other big covens, would leave me alone is if someone vouched for me. Who said that Herrick was dangerous and needed to be put down, blah blah blah."

"And who'll do that?"

"There's one coven. They're not like the rest. They're like me, in a way, trying to give up blood. But they're…different in a few ways. They hate my guts, but they'll give me a fair hearing."

"Well, where are they? Up north? Scotland? Wales?"

"A little bit further than that," said Mitchell, hesitantly. "They're actually American."

George laughed bitterly. "You have to cross an ocean to find someone who doesn't want to kill you?" He shook his head. "If I could take it all back, I would. Honestly, Mitchell-"

"You did nothing wrong, George," said Mitchell tenderly. He pointed to the window. "You see Bristol out there? Yeah? Killing Herrick was the best thing you could have done for that city. They should put a bloody statue of you up. But good or bad, this is just something I have to do."

"Something we have to do," said Annie. "We're coming with you. I've always wanted to go to America. Where are they in the States?"

"The Pacific Northwest. Washington. And that's besides the point, because you're definitely not coming."

Annie groaned. "George?"

George looked sheepish. "I don't know…more vampires? And can we take that sort of time off from the hospital?"

"I'm using the last of my annual leave," Mitchell replied, convincingly. "It's pointless for you to as well. Save it for something fun. Go biking or something."

"Do I look like someone who goes biking?" George snorted. "Actually, Mitchell, if this is all connected to something I did, I'd like to come along as well. Moral support."

Mitchell sighed. "Fine. Okay, you win. George, I'm booking airline tickets in a few days so we can buy at the same time. Annie, since no one seems able to see you at the moment, you don't need one. George, are you bringing Nina?"

George thought for a moment. "Nah. This is too new to her. I don't want to overwhelm her with this."

"Overwhelm me with what?" asked Nina, coming down the stairs and yawning.