This was intended to be a One-Shot, however I'm getting back into the fanfic now I'm out of college and own the box set… well, I read back and felt like this was worth continuing. If anyone's waiting on True Nature, sorry, I don't think I'll be able to complete it…

He was so angry now. He sat on his unmade bed, legs curled up to his chest, tears on his face, dripping onto black skinny jeans as he felt the trembles rock through his body. Every single atom of his body was screaming, burning like they had fire at the centre, and all he wanted was to feed. He didn't know how he could cope. Mitchell had never managed this long before… every time he broke, George helped him, because he could smell it, smell the blood on his breath, and he never, ever judged him. It was just Lauren. He'd never thought to save them before, not like that, and he regretted it with all the power he had.

He heard George downstairs now, the low murmur as he explained to Annie what had happened, then the faint pressure in the air beside him – and poof, ghost at his side. "Mitchell…" her voice was soft, concerned, as she sat next to him, her hand resting gently onto his shoulder. The tingle felt even through a leather jacket. He forced his eyes open and looked at her with a slight forced smile, "Hey, Annie." She offered a mug and he took it, taking comfort in the heat and the smell, familiar, homely. Then he felt a wave of anger and tasted the bitterness of bile in his throat, the craving smashing into him. He handed it back, "I can't… sorry." He murmured, getting up slowly, looking around the room. Annie's doe eyes stared at him, but she said nothing as he struggled for something to do, to drag him away from the thoughts of this… this struggle. It felt like his mind was in a vice grip and he couldn't move. "I can't do it, Annie." He knew how thick his voice was, the accent blurring his words, "I can't … struggle like this, I don't want to be a monster, but I just…"

Annie moved over to him, abandoning the mug onto his dresser and pulling him into a cold, tingly hug, clutching him comfortingly. He felt his fingers snag into her clothes as he pulled her tight to him, his head on her shoulder as a strangled sob came from his chest. His anger only pushed his tears, an annoying fact he thought he'd conquered long ago – crying while angry wasn't the best way to scare the crap out of anyone – and they ran onto Annie's clothes, the wet patches never appearing. Oh, ghosts. After a few minutes the sobs stopped and she pulled back, looking at him. "You can do this, Mitchell. You can. I know how strong you are." She wiped some tears away with her thumb, smiling softly at him, "Come on, come have some dinner. George'll cook, or you could order out if you'd like?" she suggested, and her tenderness almost made him crack again. "He can chose." The vampire murmured, "I'm just going to clean up, alright?"

Annie nodded, and vanished, while Mitchell wiped his eyes and considered his options.