Sally and Aidan don't quite have the same dynamic as their counterparts but you can tell that he cares. And so I decided to write this. Sort of inspired by lyrics of Sigh No More (Mumford and Sons).

Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human or the characters


My heart was never pure…

The problem of physically (if a person could call it that) following where your mind wanders meant that she inadvertently ended up places that shouldn't. Like Aidan's bed. In the middle of the night. With Aidan in it.

The room was dark, curtains shut as a preemptive strike against the morning light. He didn't feel her per say, just a shift in temperature, but it was enough to jar him awake and he let out a Josh like "shit, don't do that!" Had he not been half asleep he would have come up with a better greeting. One that wouldn't have resulted in her stumbling into an apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I swear I didn't mean to." Dark curls hung around her face as she looked at him anxiously. She wore that—I just did something wrong please don't be mad at me—expression that she had down to a science.

He couldn't help but smile at her. "What, were you dreaming about me?" It was enough to get her to relax slightly.

"No," she shot back, faux defensive. She drew her legging clad knees into her chest and rested her chin on them. "I just…I wanted…you make me feel safe," she finally blurted out. "That whole mess with Danny kind of freaks me out. I mean he killed me here in this house and I know that technically I'm the one haunting it but now I just keep seeing him everywhere and I keep remembering things and you always know what to say but I knew you were asleep but then I was already thinking about you," she paused for breath, "and here I am."

He couldn't help but feel like a fraud. Those women had felt safe with him. The women whose faces he could no longer remember and whose names he could no longer recall. He could write it off, say that maybe they should have paid attention to all the times someone told them not to talk to strangers, or maybe they should have picked better friends, ones who wouldn't let them drunkenly stumble out of a bar with a guy they just met.

Sally could have been one of those girls. Even in her Plain Jane sweater and her flats she was attractive and combined with her sometimes innocent sometimes blunt personality he might have picked her up. He could have easily buried her like Danny had—with the truth.

"You're not like him," she said. For a moment he wondered if ghosts had developed the ability to read minds but she wasn't looking at him and he realized that she was just thinking out loud. "He got down on one knee, looked me in the eyes, and asked me to marry him. He told me that he loved me. Then he pushed me down the stairs and pretended like it never happened. Who the hell does that?"

That was the difference. For him it was a compulsion, but once he was out of that warm and sedated drug like state he felt the guilt sink in. He felt remorse. He felt like a monster.

"That wasn't the first time," she continued. Her eyes were focused on his sheets. "I mean obviously it was the first time that he killed me, well the only time…whatever. But it wasn't the first time that…"

It was a strange feeling. Like he was on the other side of things. He wanted to make Danny pay for what he had done because Sally hadn't deserved to die that way. She didn't deserve to have to stick around after death, unable to move on, because someone had unfairly taken her life from her. The fact that the bastard had the gall to have looked him in the eye and tell him how wonderful Sally was, the way he had seemed so cut up with the loss, when he didn't even feel remorse.

He patted the spot next to him. "Come here."

Aidan hadn't been expecting anything. Not since he had tried to comfort her and all that had happened was a rush of cool hair as he watched his hand pass through hers. Yet another problem of not being corporeal. But proximity could be a comfort in itself and he lay down as she curled up next to him. The silky feel of her hair on his shoulder as she rested her head.

Sally sat up immediately and looked down at him, "Did you feel that?" Her eyes were wide and there was a wide grin on her face.

"Yes?" It had been a weird sensation. Lighter than a person would normally feel, but there had definitely been pressure. There had been contact.

She poked his shoulder, "Did you feel that?"

This time they both laughed. "Yes."

Flopping back down she looked over at him. "But that one time, your hand passed right through mine."

He didn't have all the answers. "Maybe because you didn't really want it. You did say that you were afraid of vampires as a kid, maybe you needed time." Or maybe she just really needed him now.

She seemed to contemplate what he had said. Then she asked, "Can I stay here with you? Just for tonight. Tonight I don't want to be afraid."

He could feel her body curled up against his, could feel her head resting on his shoulder. But there was no overwhelming pulsating heartbeat, no heady smell of blood lying just under the skin. There was no irresistible urge to sink teeth into flesh, to allow his desire for that rush and the feeling of being completely satiated.

"Yeah," he said. "You can stay."