The wolves that remained - CraneOperatingWolf (2024)

Chapter 1: Eyes

Chapter Text

Nick was the first one to notice that something was wrong. Something that wasn’t trauma, anxiety, and nightmares. He knew he had flashbacks since the incident, those nights where he couldn’t sleep, where he woke up in a cold sweat remembering the taste of blood on his tongue and fur between his teeth. It was only to be expected. They had all gone through hell and barely made it out alive. So, when he saw his eyes flash yellow in the bathroom mirror, he was far too busy with keeping himself from spiraling into another panic attack to even consider that something might still be very, very wrong.

Jacob might have been the second to notice. If he connected the dots was a whole other thing. He returned to weightlifting and training as soon as he could. It kept the blood pumping, giving him something else to think about. Something that wasn't blood, teeth, rusty iron scraping against his ankle, breaking skin and tearing muscle. All of them, except Laura, decided to take a year to recover before going off to college. Jacob wanted to go, but with the charges still hanging over their heads and the trauma they all endured, he decided to wait as well. He didn’t have nightmares, but he did remember turning into a f*cking werewolf, and stepping in a bear trap. Waiting a year gave him the opportunity to just, breathe, recover, stay with his old football team, and also closer to Emma. There was just one problem. He had always been strong, he loved weightlifting and training. But now… he had to hold back when playing. He could feel the bones of his teammates bend under his grip. He broke his door knob two times because he forgot that the door was locked. Maybe he was just in top shape? He didn't think too much about it. There were other things to worry about. Like potential murder charges and the new football season.

The one who finally figured out that something was wrong, was Dylan. It had been three horrible weeks since the “totally a crazy bear and not at all a pack of werewolves”-incident, and most physical wounds had healed. Well, his had healed the same night. It turned out that he got off easily. The last thing he remembered was the agony that split his skin and how he screamed for Kaitlyn to run, run, RUN until his voice broke into a beastly howl that didn’t belong to him. The bite that had shredded his hand and wrist was nothing but a grisly scar. It had been like that since he came to in the forest, covered in his own blood, his clothes shredded and his head pounding with the worst headache of his life. He couldn't look at it without being sent back to the moment teeth crushed his wrist and pulled him thru the ceiling, into split wood and unknown jaws. Followed by all the blood he didn't even notice until he was on the floor, and the pain that didn’t even settle in until they thought they were safe in the pool house. The slowly burning sensation of something wicked crawling up his veins, the piercing smell of sweat and iron, the fever before he felt his insides breaking as something ripped him apart to get out. He didn't want to think about it, which probably was unhealthy in the long run but f*ck it. One problem at a time, and the most urgent was his eyes.

His very yellow eyes. If he wasn't brushing his teeth, he would've screamed. Instead he bit down on his toothbrush and stared in horror as unfamiliar, yellow eyes stared back. What felt like a bucket of icy water of dread poured over him. It couldn't be real. It couldn't. It was supposed to be over, Silas was dead, they were all hopefully soon acquitted and the Hacketters dead (except Travis, but he probably wish he were). It wasn’t even a full moon. He must be seeing things. Nick told them he was seeing things so he probably was too. But what if he wasn't. What if the curse lingered, the full moon rose and turned them into bloodthirsty beasts just like he did that night in the scrapyard where he could feel his own skin rip from his body and... He ran from the bathroom, not even bothering to put down his toothbrush as he dove for his phone, quickly pulling up the camera and without even looking, taking a picture of his eyes. Even if he couldn't trust his brain, he could trust a camera. He hoped. He tossed his phone back onto his bed and kept his gaze down as he finished up in the bathroom, avoiding every reflective surface. Just let it be a hallucination, some figment of trauma that his brain tried to make sense of. Dylan closed his door behind him and took a shaky breath. His phone had never seemed more intimidating than now, a reflective dark screen holding the explanation to what he saw. Or thought he saw. Hopefully not. The taste of iron spread over his tongue and forced him to unclench his jaw. He reached for his phone.

It buzzed.

To say that Dylan flinched was an understatement. More jumped like a startled cat with severe anxiety.
“Mother of..!” He didn’t finish the sentence as he dragged his hands down his face with a groan. Breathe. Just, breathe. It shouldn't be so hard to unlock your phone to look at a photo.
"Just open your phone." He muttered to himself, trying to get his anxiety under control. "Look at the photo, feel dumb over freaking yourself out over nothing and delete it so that it may never see the light of the day. Yeah, sounds like a plan." He ran his fingers through his still damp hair and picked up his phone. He unlocked it.

Yellow, terrified eyes stared back.

He just wanted to cry. The curse should be broken! Silas was dead! What happened at Hackett’s quarry should be nothing more than a terrible memory that they all could bury deep, deep down and slowly suppress with unhealthy coping mechanisms until it was all forgotten. A car passed on the quiet street outside his window, he heard his mother close a door downstairs. Dylan suddenly became very aware of how exposed he currently was. If someone saw his eyes… He hurried over to the window, closing the blinds, over to his computer, covering the webcam, over to his door, locking it.
His phone buzzed again. Right. The group should definitely know about this. In the morning. The majority of them wouldn’t check their phone even if it rang at this hour. Kaitlyn would probably take the two hour drive just to kick his ass for waking her up. He flopped over onto his bed with a groan. Life was so easy when he only had to worry about his college admissions. The phone buzzed again. Dylan raised his head with an annoyed groan, who would even message him this la…

Ryan. He scrambled to get to his phone, dropping it twice before finally unlocking it. He had completely forgotten that he promised to text good night when he was done showering. Now he had three unread messages, the first one being a picture of a giant rubber duck that floated around a harbor with the caption "splish splash”.

Hot stuff: “Are you trying to drown yourself in the shower?”
“Or did you spend too much time admiring yourself in the mirror again?”

Dylan: “Perfection like this takes its time.”
Should he tell Ryan now? It’s not like he would get any sleep either way. f*ck it, he needed to tell someone, he was freaking out.

Dylan: “Perfection like this takes its time.”
“And my eyes turned yellow.”

His phone immediately buzzed as Ryan called him. Video call. He rolled over to his back to not look too much like a crushed thumb when he answered the call. Ryan had already seen him covered in blood, crying on the dirty floor of a cabin so it could only get better from now on. He answered the call with his camera on.
“Jesus, Mary and jazzhands!” Was the first thing Ryan said. His eyes were still yellow. It was one thing to see a photo, but a living reflection… He felt like a stranger in his own body.
“I know I’m handsome but there’s no need to yell.” He tried his best to sound nonchalant but his voice betrayed him. To see Ryan’s worried expression only solidified his worries. He didn’t want to worry anyone, least of all Ryan.
“Dylan… Are you okay?” The seer concern in his voice almost broke the brave mask he desperately tried to hold onto.
“Depends, do you like strong badasses or sensitive guys that show their emotions?”
“If I liked badasses I wouldn’t have given you my number.”
“Ouch, but accurate.” His voice broke as he met Ryan’s gaze. “I’m so not okay.” He didn’t need to tell him that, Ryan knew him well enough by now. He sat up to keep the tears from pooling in his ears. f*ck trying to look good, he had the eyes of a monster so it was already a lost cause.
“It doesn’t make any sense. Silas is dead!” He sniffed, frustrated, angry, drying tears from his strange eyes. Couldn’t it be over already? He just started to feel better, he didn’t need this. When the light was visible at the end of the tunnel this curse dragged him back into the darkness.
“Hey.” He looked up to meet that steady, calm gaze. Ryan didn’t even flinch at the sight. “We’ll get through this. We’ll talk to the others tomorrow, we promised to get through this together. Even if we’re a bit far apart at times.” Dylan allowed himself to take a deep breath, it felt as if he’d held his breath for hours.
“Thank you for putting up with my furry problems.”
“Thank you for trusting me with them.” f*ck, he really wished he could hug Ryan now. He wished they were all closer together. Trauma brings people together, in a weird way that he still didn’t know if he liked. It was surprisingly lonely without them. They still talked almost daily. Dylan considered himself to be a professional sh*tposter and shared the weirdest posts he could find. Nick answered with a mix of reaction gifs and weirdly philosophical, cryptic messages. Ryan sometimes took the bait and started a discussion about whether lobsters were like mermaids to scorpions or whatever it was Dylan had posted. Kaitlyn mostly swung by to call them out on their insanity. Abi captioned her own memes as answers and Emma could always find a good, rare insult to answer with. Jacob mostly texted a string of question marks until someone took the time to explain. Someone was often Kaitlyn. Which was when Dylan found something new to post or Abi made a new meme to which Emma her brutally honest opinion and the cycle started over again.

“Do you think I need to take a new photo for my license if my eyes stay like this?” He leaned closer to the camera, examining his eyes. He hadn’t really looked at them. Kaitlyn told him that his eyes were yellow before he turned that night at the scrapyard. It was one thing to hear her describe it, a whole other thing to actually see it, to see something affect your appearance so drastly. It wasn’t the solid yellow color like that of a wolf’s, it was more blended, ranging from a deep almost green color to bright yellow and familiar brown. The more he looked, the more he could recognize the pattern of his irises. It was still, somewhat, his eyes. Only that they were yellow.
“Is that a genuine question?” Ryan asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Dylan thought for a second.
“Maybe...? Should I change it to ‘race: werewolf’ as well?”
“It feels like this could spiral into some sort of philosophical debate.” Oh it was way too late for that.
“Should I fight for my right to wolf in public? Do I need a handler?” He met Ryan’s gaze with what he hoped was a very suggestive look. “Maybe a leash?” Ryan chuckled and looked away, a soft blush on his cheeks.
“I don’t think there’s a leash that can hold a werewolf.”
“Or me.” Ryan did that adorable, blushing laugh again. Damn it felt good to hear him laugh. It woke the familiar butterflies in his chest. Not much had happened since that night, not because of disinterest, but because just so damn many things happened all at once. f*ck he just wanted Ryan closer. He wanted them all closer.
“Maybe you’ll grow to like it?” Dylan raised an eyebrow at Ryan’s comment.
“I look like a deranged jaundice patient.” He deadpanned, making Ryan chuckle.
“If it wasn’t for, you know…” He made a vague hand gesture. “… the overhanging threat of great bodily harm, it would be pretty hot.” Oh? Oh. That made his chest flutter. What a day to discover something new about yourself.
“I see that I have already seduced you with my raw, bestial power I have so excellently portrayed during this midnight call.” He tried his best to make his expression as suggestive as possible. He only dropped it after Ryan burst out into laughter.
“Bestial power isn’t really the words I would use.”
“That’s because you aren’t here to get the experience in person.”
“I will be, one day. I’m free this weekend.”
“Oh? I’m sensing a possibility for a demonstration.” Ryan rolled his eyes at him.
“I was thinking more along the lines of pizza and a movie.” Something short circuited in Dylan’s head. Did he just get asked on a date? He definitely just got asked on a date. What the hell should he answer to that?! He didn’t think he’d get this far!
“Are you buffering or something?” Ryan chuckled. Dylan realized that he probably just stared out into space for a comically long time.
“No, no! I mean, yes. Yes, to pizza and movie.” Damn he couldn’t even talk. “That, that sounds great.” The familiar, giggly feeling that he felt that night returned, and he just couldn’t stop smiling.
“It’s a date then.” Ryan said, a smile on his face as well.
“Oh, that’s what we were talking about?” Dylan’s comment made Ryan groan.
“It’s a good thing that you’re cute.” That made him smile even more.
They continued to talk, easing their worries, and planning ahead if this, whatever this was, would escalate. They still had Travis’ number and he had promised to help however he could. Jacob’s family was apparently, loaded. They were part of the reason to how they managed to get acquitted so quickly. Kaitlyn had a van big enough to fit all of them with luggage and she had proclaimed it “Jacob safe”. Laura was hell-bent on going to college, which did mean that she had to move away. Dylan was secretly happy about that, since he didn’t want to spend time with a woman that easily killed two persons in one night. He did admire her bravery and grit. From a distance. Still, they knew that whatever happened, they had each other, no matter where in the world they might be. They went through hell together; they would get through this too.

Chapter 2: Call

Chapter Text

Dylan was never up early without a good reason. Crippling anxiety due to potential lycanthropy was, according to him, a good reason. He held his breath when he looked in the mirror that morning. Deep familiar brown stared back at him, and he could almost cry in relief. He didn’t need to lock himself up or wear sunglasses until the colored lenses arrived in the mail. He could grab breakfast and say good morning to his mother without acting like an even bigger weirdo than he knew he was. Not that his mother ever would call him out on that. He donned his headset and powered up his computer with a bowl of cereal in his hand. The clock wasn’t even 8 am when he sent the first message to the group that included him and his former colleagues.
Dylan: “I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but we really need to talk. And no, I am not breaking up with you, don’t flatter yourself.”
It took Kaitlyn two minutes to answer.

Kaitlyn: “I am not loaning you any money. What’s the matter?”

Dylan: “My eyes turned yellow.”
“As in, I know I wasn’t seeing things.”

He sent the picture he took the last night, after cropping it, he wouldn’t offer up excellent blackmail material on a silver platter. Kaitlyn immediately started a video call, already seated in front of her computer ready for the day. He joined the call with a mouthful of cereal.
“Dylan, if this is a prank, I swear to every god you can think of that I will slap you so hard that your mother won’t be able to recognize you.” He had no chance of interrupting her before putting down his breakfast and swallowing.
“It’s not a prank.” He managed to say without choking on cereal. Kaitlyn’s expression immediately turned from annoyed to concerned.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Dylan suppressed the urge to joke about the situation, he was too young to die. He picked up his bowl again.
“f*ck!” He flinched and almost spilled milk over the carpet. “What the hell?” Kaitlyn buried her face in her hands. Dylan was happy to just sit back and let her handle this.
“Just… okay. Let’s get the others in here ASAP.” She started to type, and he happily left the situation in her capable hands.

Kaitlyn: “Get your asses onto this call NOW.”

She turned to him again.
“Don’t eat in front of the computer you slob.”
“I can multitask.” He lied.
“You absolutely cannot.” Okay she was right. He scraped the last of cereal from the bowl. “If you have to eat over your keyboard at least mute your mic so I don’t need to hear your very attractive slurping.” Emma joined the call from her phone, still in bed with half her face in the pillow. She let out a groan.
“I’m here, listening.”
“Read the chat.” She visibly scrolled thru the chat, the light from her screen the only thing that illuminated her face. Nick joined via voice.
“Mornin. Just, give me a minute.”
“No sweat, don’t trip putting your socks on.” Dylan said, already getting anxious. Was it okay to drag them all into a call this early? Maybe he just overreacted? Some of his anxiety disappeared when Ryan joined the call, looking alert enough for it to be out of character.
" Hi there hot-stuff." Dylan greeted.
” Mornin.” Ryan smiled back.” Hey, eyes are back to normal.” He noted.
” Back to brown, just like your, deep, mysterious gaze that no person in the world can resist.” He said just to see Ryan smile. Emma made some sort of grunt and moved to sit up.
"Are you trying out for the walking dead?" He asked as she yawned.
"No need to try out, I told them I was too good for them." She answered and blinked sleepily at the camera. "What's up with your eyes? What’s happening?" Kaitlyn took the wheel immediately.
"We don't know. Maybe apocalypse. We'll start by getting everyone onto this call."
"Sounds easy enough." Nick muttered, voice thick with sarcasm enough to rival Dylan's. Emma seemed to walk into the kitchen with her phone.
”You’re coming with me, I need my coffee.” Abi joined the call, looking as if she just left the bed and pulled a jumper over her head. Despite her sleepy appearance, worry was clearly visible on her face. Dylan greeted her with a small wave which she returned after seemingly noticing that his eyes was back to normal. Max joined with Laura running around with moving boxes in the background.
” I guess this is a crisis.” He greeted. “I thought this was over.”
“Sorry.” Dylan said.
“It’s not your fault.” It damn felt as if it was. Emma started to narrate her coffee routine as if she was streaming, only to get roasted for her preferences. You can’t have a glass of milk with a splash of coffee and call it a coffee. It was just sacrilegious. Now they only waited for Jacob.
"GOOD MOORRNIIN VIETNAM!" Jacob howled as he joined the call. Everyone visibly flinched, Emma spilled her coffee, Dylan almost ripped his headset from his head. Even somewhat of a thud was heard from Nick as if he'd dropped something. Jacob's camera showed him in what looked like his kitchen. Three other guys that Dylan guessed where from his football team looked up from their breakfast. They could very well be Jacob’s long-lost brothers.
"We're just intaking some carbs before practice. Guys!" He turned to the Jacob-clones around the table. "These are the people that I fought the bears with!" They greeted them with big smiles and cheers.
"f*cking dope! Bear wrestlers!"
"Bear wrestlers!" There were more hollering replies but aside from the first two lines Dylan had no idea what they even tried to say. Emma, Max and Abi immediately turned off their cameras, Nick probably returned to Australia and Dylan slowly rolled his chair out of the frame in a futile attempt to hide. He was so not ready for this energy today. Ryan gave a small, awkward wave while Kaitlyn gave Jacob a look that could melt glass.
"Jacob. Privacy." She demanded.
"Oh sh*t, my bad." Jacob hurried into another room, shouting an explanation to his… posse? Hivemind? "There. What's up?" Despite wanting to slowly poke his head into the frame for comedic effect, Dylan rolled back as Kaitlyn once more took the reins of this mess.
"We have a problem. For those of you who are unable to read the chat, Dylan's eyes turned yellow. And then back I guess."
"Fell asleep yellow, woke up way more mellow." Kaitlyn made a face at his rhyming. He regretted it at second thought. “Uh, ignore that.”
"How are you feeling?" Abi asked, concern in her voice. She had been the first to ask everyone the same ever since the incident. He appreciated it.
"I'm holding up. Only, well, worried about the possibility of impending doom."
"I just want to raise the fact that Dylan knows how to photoshop." Emma said, not even sounding guilty about accusing him. Dylan felt a slight stab at that. Did she really think that he would joke about something like this?
”Wait, photoshop what?” Sometimes Jacob was thick in a cute way, this was not one of those times.
"Read the chat, Jake. Yes, this can be shopped, but Dylan would have no idea what his eyes looked like, unless werewolf Dylan spent the night admiring his reflection in a puddle somewhere."
"Can't blame me if I did.”
“So for anyone that still doubts it, that's what Dylan’s eyes looked like minutes before he turned.” The call turned eerily silent. Why did he feel like this was his fault? He was just being a bother again. Why should they even care about his problems? He gave to little and took to much. He bit his lip, taking a shaky breath. He wasn’t a bother, even when it felt like it. Unless they all lied to him. He shook himself out of the toxic loop. Don’t think like that, focus on the facts, not your feelings. Nick finally turned on his camera, looking tired and haunted.

“It… um…happened to me too.” He reluctantly said and rubbed the bridge between his eyes. Dylan felt something between relief and terror wash over him. He wasn’t alone. Thank whatever werewolf gods that he wasn’t alone. Dylan was happy that the angry, panicked chatter that erupted from the call wasn’t aimed at him. It turned out that more than him and Nick had noticed that something was wrong. Jacob broke a doorknob. Emma had to throw out several of her perfumes since they all made her nose sting. It reminded Dylan about how she “maced” him. The infection heightened his senses just enough for it to feel like a punch in the face. His nose and sinuses felt like they were on fire, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see. Or he overreacted. Or maybe a little of both. It went away quickly; the initial chock was the worst.

Laura joined Max on the screen.
“Even though I absolutely love hearing you ramble, I feel like we need a plan.” She said and Kaitlyn nodded.
“Let’s just start with what we know.” Dylan said. “We have the poem, even though it’s awful.”
“How will that help us?” Emma asked. “We know that Silas is dead but that didn’t help sh*t.” Maybe it wasn’t the best plan… No. Before finding a solution to any problem, you needed to gather all the information you had about the subject. Then you needed to sort thru it, decide what was and wasn’t relevant.
“Gathering and sorting information is usually a good first step. It’s basic problem solving.” He pulled up a blank document. “Not that I expect you to know that…” He muttered under his breath.
“Burn.” Nick chuckled as Emma flipped off the camera.
“That’s a plan.” Kaitlyn decided. “What do we know?”
They noted everything down, everything they could think of as remotely useful to their situation. They had all been bitten. Everyone except Ryan, Abi and Kaitlyn had transformed, they were also the only ones that didn’t show any symptoms. All useful information the Hacketters had was a bad poem with unknown origin. They just had no idea what to do about it, or how to handle it. What would happen next full moon?
They had 5 days to figure it out.

Chapter 3: Onward

Chapter Text

1. 1. Don’t BITE anyone.
   2. Watch out for SILVER.
   3. Avoid CLEAR WATER.
   4. Do not wolf ALONE.
      Jacob is never to be left unsupervised with any type of vehicle.
   5. When in doubt, blame the BEARS.
   6. We’re in this TOGETHER.

   It wasn’t the most sophisticated list they could’ve come up with, but it was better than what they had before, nothing. After an hour of talking and a bit of derailing into a video compilation of screaming huskies, they had also come up with somewhat of a plan. The full moon was on Friday. Until then, they would all keep note of their symptoms, everything that could be of help should be written down. Max filled in with what he knew, which wasn’t much but enough to notice that this felt like something new. Ryan called up Travis to inform him of the situation and ask if they could “borrow” the quarry the next full moon, and if his family had shown symptoms like theirs. The answers were yes, and no. Whatever afflicted them, was definitely something new. That spread both terror and hope among them. Maybe it would be different? Dylan didn’t dare to hope. He tried to busy himself with the preparations for the weekend. There went his date, because of course it did. He both wanted to kick a wall and faceplant onto his bed and not move for several hours. He chose the latter. Instead of spending the weekend with Ryan, he would spend it locked up somewhere. Or on an island. Or chained to a tree somewhere. Or he could die. Or kill someone. Those thought were exactly why he needed to stay busy, they crowded his head, got tangled up in each other like a string of unruly Christmas lights and the more he pulled and struggled the worse the tangle got. He needed to let it go, step back, and return later, to take each string at the time. The current string was to pack. There was no way in hell he would risk his favourite t-shirt, so he found himself cleaning out his closet to find something he was willing to turn into a blood thirsty monster in. Something that could break, but that he still wouldn’t look to silly in. No wonder that Mr. H had the type of wardrobe he had. His mother probably thought he’d gone crazy, planning a trip back to the quarry where he almost got eaten by a “bear”. And now he was cleaning out his wardrobe.
   “With all the time I spent in here, you’d think I organized it better.” He muttered to himself as he found another pile of shirts, covered in cat hair, that he completely forgot he owned. It made him realize a thing, he hadn’t seen Mitzi, their cat, for a day or so. He had heard her meow at his mother when it was feeding time, but not at him. She usually came into his room, if only to lie across his keyboard or eat a cable. Could she… feel that something was wrong with him?

   He dropped what he was doing and headed downstairs, checking all her usual hiding places before he found her, hidden under the couch as far back as she could. He flopped down onto his stomach, ignoring the dust bunnies, tilting his head to see her. The small tuxedo cat he knew so very well stared back, looking at him as if he were a stranger. That was not her normal behaviour, she ran up his leg as a kitten, shredding him completely. She jumped into his arms, climbed onto his shoulders and rode around until he sat down and she got bored. He was even the one who named her, twice. They first thought she was a boy, so Dylan like the nerd he is, named her Schrödinger. When she turned out to be a girl, they changed the name. It was a hassle to yell “Schrödinger” anyway.
   “Hi, bud. What are you doing back there?” She didn’t move. He tried blinking slowly at her, then, probably too quickly, he reached after her. She folded her ears back and hissed, clearly afraid of him, warning him to not get any closer.
   “You don’t recognize me, do you?” He realized, a wave of sorrow sweeping over him. “I’m still the same old Dylan. I’m still me.” She didn’t hiss at him, but she didn’t move any closer either. “Mitzi, it’s still me. I’m just… a little different. I think?” He said, to convince himself more than anything. He was still the same. Wasn’t he? Defeated, he retracted his hand, sighing with no energy to get up. Good thing his mother wasn’t home, he could lie on the carpet and feel sorry for himself for a little bit longer without her worrying that he had gone crazy. She would probably think that he did something to her, and just the thought made his stomach twist. This was, completely, f*cking, unacceptable. Werewolf or not, he would get that cat to trust him again.

   It took two days of careful coaxing until he managed to finally pick her up without getting scratched. Two days that he spent feeling more and more anxious about the coming full moon. He couldn’t sleep, sit still without shaking his leg and he was always hungry. The hardest rule to follow was, surprisingly, the first one. He kept chewing on his pens, cutlery, even the cable to his headset and he had no idea when he even started to because that was expensive. Mitzi was probably proud of him. She did come up to his room again and gave him a judgemental look when he was chewing on a cable. “Hypocrite.” Was probably what she would say if she could speak. Dylan was just overjoyed that she didn’t hate him. Water didn’t bother him, but it felt strange after he showered. Like his skin was dry or he was allergic to something. Dylan was happy that his mother didn’t ask him about why he was acting like he was. His mother kept getting increasingly worried about his behaviour and he couldn’t blame her. He barely slept, never sat still, and ate like a wolf. Like a starving wolf.

   Dylan was far from the only one that had problems. Everyone displayed similar symptoms. Restlessness, anxiety, itchiness, irritability. There was a symptom that Dylan didn’t write down, as he honestly couldn’t separate it from his regular anxiety. The sinking feeling of being absolutely, completely alone and abandoned. Hugging his own mother didn’t help. There was a hollow void in his chest that needed to be filled, he just had no idea what it needed. What shape the missing puzzle piece was supposed to have. There were far too many questions in their document with no answers, only observations on odd symptoms. It was so frustrating! Made him want to bare his teeth and growl. Frustration turning into anger and anger that made him want to bite, claw and rip. With nothing to bite he clenched his jaw, with nothing to claw he balled his hands into fists. Breathe, focus on breathing. His phone buzzed and he snapped his attention towards the sound, stifling another snarl. This was neigh unbearable. Breathe! He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. And another. Just endure. And another. Endure. They would soon be together. Everything would be alright.

   “Dylan!” He immediately looked up, searching for the source of the shout. It didn’t take long to spot it, as a yellow mini buss approached with Jacob hanging out from the window waving with a big goofy grin on his face. He reminded Dylan of a happy Labrador. Kaitlyn sat behind the wheel and Dylan knew that Abi, Emma, and Ryan were already onboard. Ryan. He already felt like jumping out of his skin. They were here. They were finally here! The door to the buss opened before it even stopped properly, and they piled out, almost attacking him. Even if he didn’t want to run and meet them, something else controlled his legs and when the clump of uncoordinated limbs that was his former co-workers exited the buss, they all piled on top of him, almost knocking him to the ground. Their voices were the best sound he’d ever heard, and he'd never really realized how good they all smelled. He wanted to bury his face in it, hug them all and just breathe. There was a certain strand in it, a scent he recognized as Ryan’s. How he managed to recognize it wasn’t important right now. It just meant that Ryan was here somewhere. f*ck he’d missed them all. There was laughter, and he didn’t know if it was his own or theirs. It was probably the best rib-crushing hug he’d ever gotten. It filled whatever void he had in his chest, started to unwind the tight ball of anxiety. However, something was still missing.
   “Ryan?” He called, seeing a very familiar face pop out from the buss. Ryan, with a small smile on his lips as he chuckled at Dylan trying to scramble free from the bear hug.
   “Guys let him go you’ll hurt someone.” Kaitlyn’s voice was barely recognizable in Dylan’s brain.
   “It’s like holding a mutated octopus!” Jacob chuckled and let him go. Dylan scrambled from one pair of arms to another, as if Ryan had his own gravity. He wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his shoulder and just held him, inhaled his scent. f*ck he missed him. There was probably a wolf-whistle from the others, he didn’t care. The void was filled.
   “I missed you.” He mumbled, enjoying that familiar sweet scent, the scent that was safety, love, stability, home, his. Another heartbeat, another body of warmth that was there to care, hold, hug. Another pair of arms around his waist. He found himself rub his face into Ryan’s shoulder, breathing him in.
   “I missed you too.” Even his voice was like music.

   It was a bit awkward to detangle themselves, especially under the gaze of four other persons. As much as Dylan just wanted to be alone with Ryan, it was still nice to see the others. The ball of wound-up anxiety in his chest started to slowly loosen, he could finally relax. When they finally were packed into the buss and drove off to pick up Nick, Dylan was exhausted. The lack of sleep, the anxiety, all the tension over the last days hit him all at once as a bag of bricks.
   “You look like sh*t.” Emma commented as he leaned his head towards the window, closing his eyes. He would’ve leaned his head to Ryan’s shoulder if it wasn’t for the height difference. Maybe it was worth a bad case of wryneck to try.
   “Did someone tape a mirror to my face?” He groaned; his eyelids very heavy. Ryan shifted closer, intertwining their fingers to hug his hand.
   “It would be an improvement for you. Have you slept at all?” Emma continued, legitimate concern in her voice. Ryan didn’t have to ask, he already knew as he leaned his head to Dylan’s shoulder, allowing Dylan to lean his head onto his. Maybe avoiding hurting his neck too badly.
   “Haven’t had a full night’s sleep in forever.” Dylan muttered before he passed out, face buried in Ryan’s hair and every breath filled with his scent. He only awoke to when they stopped to pick up Nick, who also got a bear hug from Jacob. Dylan knew exactly what Jacob meant by mutated octopus. It hilarious to watch Nick scramble almost over Jacob and Emma to reach Abi’s arms. Hilarious and incredibly sweet. It was the last stop before the quarry, Max and Laura drove themselves, after getting their car fixed. Turns out it wasn’t completely scrapped. Nick still had the look of a kicked puppy; especially when Abi was nearby. Abi however, patted the seat next to her with a soft smile. Dylan said hi by reaching over the seat and grabbing the top of his head.
   “Spider!” In hindsight, it wasn’t the best joke to pull on an Australian. Nick could’ve jumped thru the windshield.
   “You haven’t seen what I have seen! They eat snakes back home!” He hissed, slapping at Dylan’s hand while Jacob howled with laughter. Emma immediately asked about the spiders that ate snakes, and Nick was more than happy to just pull up his phone and google.
   “Go and experience the American wilds, they said. It will be fun they said.” Nick muttered. Dylan could hear him sigh.
   “At least we don’t have drop-bears!” Jacob piped up.
   “Drop-bears aren’t real my dude.”
   “What?!” Dylan more felt than heard Ryan chuckle quietly.

Chapter 4: Silver

Chapter Text

It was surreal to be back. The sounds, the smell, the lack of internet… The horrible memories of how they almost died. As soon as Dylan stepped out of the buss, he realized just how strange the air smelt. The smell of pine, dirt, exhaust, sweat, friends, Ryan… Who gave him an odd look.
“Admiring my handsomeness?”
“Wondering why you’re sniffing the air.” Ryan asked. Right. He was being a weirdo. “And admiring your handsomeness.” He quietly added. It was so funny how Dylan could flirt with Ryan, talk about sex dungeons, and suggest leashes, but when Ryan gave him a compliment, his brain just shut down. He couldn’t even think of an answer, or proper reaction except grinning happily. It didn’t help that Ryan intertwined their fingers and hugged his hand. Yup, proper shut down. All brain activity were out the window. Goodbye! He could almost hear the window shut down noise. Ryan took a deep breath next to him, allowing his brain some time to restart.
“What were you smelling?” Oh, Ryan was talking to him.
“Oh, just… Everything I guess.” He didn’t really have an answer. “It smells, stronger I think?” Ryan closed his eyes and took another breath.
“I don’t notice anything different. How was it… last time?” He was hesitant to ask, and Dylan felt him hug his hand. It was still scary to remember that night. How the crane was rusted, how the sound of Kaitlyn’s screams echoed thru the scrapyard and cut into his ears. The smell of blood, oil, rust and sweat. He remembered how the scent of fresh blood reached him, how he recognized it as Kaitlyn’s, how primal anger flared up in his chest together with a growl that tore itself from his throat as he wanted that monster that hurt his friend dead dead dead. That’s when he dropped a car on it.
“I remember smelling blood.” He said, Ryan still hugging his hand. “I was angry.”
“Can you be angry?” Ryan tried to meet his gaze, tried to read his expression to know what was going on in his head.
“Only at photons.” And their dual nature that was still under discussion.
“Is that a quantum physics thing?”
“Yeah.” Particle or wave. Wolf or teenager. What a stupid world.

The full moon wasn’t until tomorrow night, so they had time to prepare. They had learned that sometimes cars break and if you have a schedule that’s time-sensitive, be early. The police tape was still up, despite the investigation being closed for a while. It shouldn’t be like this. Many things weren’t as they should. There should be laughter at the cabins, canoes in the lake, children running around and climbing trees, signs that warned about bears and not an active crime scene. It made Dylan feel… Heavy. First year as a counsellor and this sh*t happened. Would any children be able to ever return here? There was no way Travis would keep the camp running, he could barely stand 9 young adults. To even think about it would kill the man. A conversation caught Dylan’s attention and both he and Ryan looked over to the welcome sign. Abi, Emma, and Jacob were fiddling with what looked like cardboard, tape, and markers. They watched as Emma and Abi held up the cardboard over the words “make you stronger” while Jacob taped them in place. When they all three backed from the new, modified sign Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. The sign now said:

“What doesn’t kill you will f*ck you up mentally.”

Max and Laura arrived a few minutes later with Travis in tow. They decided to stay in the lodge, for now. It had fewer bad memories than the rest of the camp. And many rooms to lock potential problematic people up in. Just in case. Travis, he looked like sh*t as he handed over the keys to Kaitlyn. He was a man that in the last month had lost next to everything. Dark bags under his eyes underlined a haunted gaze that didn’t seem to be present. Ryan went over to talk with him, Dylan… told him he’d carry up his bags first. In all honesty, he had no intention of wanting to talk with the sheriff, Travis gave him the creeps. It probably wasn’t a fair statement; the sheriff had been nothing but helpful towards them. Well, after they started to wave guns, claws, and Laura around. All communication they had engaged in was about their case, about nothing but blood, death, and werewolves. f*cking werewolves. Dylan dragged his feet down the stairs, on the lookout for some sort of distraction. Nick, making himself busy in the kitchen, provided one. And he could smell blood. He avoided the uncomfortable conversation and tried to smoothly step into the kitchen.
“Hey man.”
“I don’t have any food for you.” Nick answered, in the middle of un-packing what would be their food for the weekend. Including some expired bags of peanut butter pops Jacob found… somewhere? Jacob and Nick could keep them. Keep them far away from Dylan at least.
“Please, tell me that you have something completely unnecessary and time consuming that I can help with to avoid uncomfortable social interaction.” He put his hands together as if praying. Nick raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
“Welcome to the club.” He said, picked up a cooler and walked towards the freezer. “Unpack these for me while I hold the door to make sure that you won’t get locked in there and freeze to death.” Dylan considered the conversation for ten seconds. Potential death was better.
“Why can’t I hold the door?”
“Because last time I trusted you with a door you locked Jacob out.”
“Fair point. Why does it smell like blood?” He grabbed the cooler and walked into the cold freezer. It had never been so barren. Nick didn’t seem surprised when he asked about the blood. Was that unnerving or reassuring?
“I just put in fresh steaks in the fridge, one of the packages leaked a bit, I could smell it before I packed up the bag.” He nodded towards the fridge with an empty cooler next to it.
“I thought I did a good job cleaning up, apparently not.” Dylan didn’t know what to say as he stacked the frozen hamburger patties onto the shelves. Jacob and Emma dropped of two more coolers. Emma asked about the scent as well, looking more concerned than Dylan was. Nick laid out the same explanation he gave Dylan and sighed as Emma even went to check the fridge.
“What did you even expect to find?” Nick asked and Emma shrugged before heading out, passing Jacob in the door.
“There should be two coolers left.” Nick commented and Jacob exited with a salute.
“How much food did we bring? Damn.” Dylan asked as Nick slid another cooler to him.
“Remember how hungry you were before transforming?” Now it made a lot more sense. He did remember being hungry, really hungry, but it wasn’t something he thought much about. They did run around the whole camp for several hours without eating.
“Do you think food will help?”
“I think it’s stupid to not test it.” Fair point. Dylan nodded at Nick’s comment and closed the freezer behind him. If it could make the next night easier, he welcomed it. They had a list of symptoms, hunger, aggression, changed eye colour, probable fever, clammy, greyish skin, and finally, a burning pain that felt like your ribs were broken from the inside out. He welcomed the distraction Nick provided by sliding him a couple of tomatoes and a knife, putting him to work. There was also another issue that kept brewing in the back of his head.
“Can I ask a stupid question? Except the one I already asked.” Nick gave him a suspicious look but nodded.
“Is it wolf related?” Hitting the nail right on the head with that one.
“Yeah, as most things. And uncomfortable.” Dylan looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody else was listening. He lowered his voice. “I don’t want to do to Ryan what you did to Abi… You know?” He hated to bring that up as he could see how Nick tensed up. “Do you remember how it felt when you, I don’t know, started to derail?” f*ck he hated to make people uncomfortable.
“I… I try not to think about it.” Nick muttered, his previously good mood ruined, and that haunted look Dylan knew too well was brought forward.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Dylan quickly said, hoping he hadn’t overstepped some unwritten werewolf rule. Or human rule. He kept working, tried to provide some ambient sound as Nick gathered himself.
“I remember that she suddenly started to smell differently. Enticing?” He shivered just by describing it. “I don’t remember saying anything, just that I wanted to rub my face in that scent, hold it, have it for myself.” Haunting chills ran down Dylan’s spine. He recognized that.
“My therapist told me that talking about it helps processing it.” Nick started to move again, picked the work where he left it. “It’s easier to talk when you’re able to actually tell them what happened.”
“Without getting locked up.” Dylan muttered. His mom had already pushed him to see a therapist, since it helped him a lot when his dad passed away. If it was anything but werewolves, he’d go too.
“Yeah. I’m always afraid I’ll say too much. It’s easier that he thinks I’m just another sexually frustrated perv.” There was a heavy sadness in Nick’s voice that didn’t belong to him at all. It was all part of the ugly scar that trauma left on them and f*ck it was heavy to carry.
“We know the truth. Abi knows the truth. That’s what’s important.” Dylan said, not knowing if he tried to convince himself or Nick. “And maybe one day there will be a werewolf therapist. That sounds like a solid career path.” Nick chuckled at that, and Dylan felt relief wash over him. He could work with humour, sadness and guilt was much more difficult.
“Would be a small market.” He chuckled, smiling again. Maybe Dylan had repaired the mood he ruined. He didn’t know, he only hoped. “Thanks, mate.” Dylan nudged his arm with his elbow.
“Don’t mention it. Rule 6, remember?”
“Of course.”

“Son of a…hog hag!” Nick cursed as the sound of cutlery being dropped clanged thru the kitchen.
“Did you stab yourself on a fork?” Dylan teased.
“Something burned me.” Nick looked at him, shaking his hand, looking utterly perplexed.
“What?” Was there a broken cable or something? A pair of smaller spoons were dropped around Nick, the drawer still out. No sign of anything that could burn, and no sign of any burn on Nick’s hand either.
“What did you even do?” Dylan asked, frowning in confusion, starting to pick up the dropped cutlery. Before Nick could answer, he realized that he was holding something that stung. Like grabbing a hot plate. Dylan flinched, stumbling backwards, barely avoiding falling onto his ass.
“It’s the spoon!” He pointed it out and Nick immediately took a step back. They must’ve looked ridiculous, two young adults in the kitchen, surrounded by spoons on the floor and seemingly scared of one. They were both quiet for a heartbeat before Dylan realized: “Do you think it might be silver?”
“Why would the lodge have one silver spoon?”
“How do we know it’s only one?” They both looked at the cutlery drawers with a sigh. Why was everything so difficult!? They started by picking up the dropped spoons with barbeque tongs before sorting thru them, trying to discern if more silver was hiding in the drawers. It felt ridiculous but was oddly entertaining. Dylan felt like Nick was overplaying it a bit, and he let him know.
“Stop being a big baby.” He teased. Nick answered by jabbing his side with the spoon he held. Ouch.
“Was it silver?” He asked, making sure to make his tone as teasing as possible. Dylan narrowed his eyes at him, sensing a challenge. That’s how a new weapon was invented, as they playfully jabbed each other with what silver they found. They didn’t remember who started to hum the theme to a certain pirate movie, but it made it so much funnier.
“Why do you have so long arms, you tall freak?!”
“We’re the same height!” Nick retorted as he almost folded himself over a counter to place a good jab to Dylan’s ribs. That’s when Emma walked in, phone camera aimed at them.
“Say hi boys!” She waved and giggled as they both froze, immediately stopping their fencing, Nick still halfway over the counter. “This…” She gestured to them. “… is what I have to put up with. Maniacs.”
“Are you streaming?!” Nick yelled, a light blush of embarrassment on his cheeks. Emma put away her phone with a smug smile.
“Of course not. No reception, no internet. But plenty of material for a future video. Now, what are you doing?”
“Think fast!” Dylan yelled and didn’t even think as he tossed the spoon he was holding at her. It seemed hilarious in the moment. Emma easily caught it, shrieked in horror, and dropped it. Nick howled with laughter, and he followed suit. It was hilarious. Totally worth whatever blackmail material she had of them.
“Dylan! What the f*ck is that?!” She sounded mad.
“Silver!” Nick yelled back, still laughing. Emma narrowed her eyes at them, slowly grabbing a towel on the counter, before quickly grabbing the spoon, and tossing it at them. Now, it was war. The constant shrieking and howling laughter quickly attracted Jacob who joined in without batting an eye, and Abi peeked her head into the kitchen just to watch and giggle at them, and to throw back some wayward spoons. Soon it was chaos, they were tossing spoons across the kitchen, using towels as shields, Jacob even slid over a counter and almost managed to not land on his face. He even started to narrate it as a football game, with Dylan joining in with his best radio voice. They didn’t notice Kaitlyn until she yelled at them for a third time, Ryan and Abi next to her still laughing.
“Can we, please, try to act somewhat responsible?” Kaitlyn said, arms crossed, looking sternly at the participants in the war. Dylan and Emma looked up from behind a counter, Jacob put down Nick who he tried to use as a human (werewolf?) shield. Dylan immediately noticed how Ryan was looking at him, smiling and chuckling in a way that he’d never seen before. It made his heart flutter, and he couldn’t help but grin, a big silly grin just as after their first kiss. He was pulled put from his trance by Emma who jabbed a spoon into his side.
“Help clean this up.”

Chapter 5: Light

Chapter Text

Dinner was served a bit late, since its preparation had been interrupted by the spoon war. The sun had started to set, the air got a bit colder, and the forest slowly got quieter. The lodge however, got warmer and louder as the evening went on. They arranged a long table in the lodge, all of them sitting together while eating and planning for the following night. They decided to secure themselves as safely as they could. Max and Laura would spend the night at the police station, they had been there before and apparently trusted Travis enough to eventually let them out. Abi, Emma, and Nick chose to use the Hacketters’ cages for the night. After Ryan described the mess of breakers and cables Dylan felt almost obligated to go there to just make sure that everything was in working order. None of them trusted the late Hacketters’ technical competence. Besides the station and the cages, there was the storm shelter, but apparently the ladder was broken as well as the hatch, and the metal door had some buckles in it, roughly the size of Emma’s fists. So that left the island, unless they chose to hole up somewhere inside the lodge, cabins, or boathouse. Dylan immediately called dibs on the upper floor of the tree house. He loved the view, and it seemed safe enough. Ryan would take the lower floor, Kaitlyn and Jacob would find somewhere on the rest of the island, where, was another question. They would be four people on the island, so they discussed several potential escape routes, just in case. Emma pointed out some of them. They also needed to fix something that could keep Kaitlyn and Jacob safe. Someone suggested that they build a float, put a tent on it and just sleep thru the night. The idea was filed under “maybe”. They discussed separating the couples during the full moon, but nobody was comfortable with the idea. It already felt wrong to separate into smaller groups. To spend the night alone was a terrifying thought. The nervousness among them was apparent, everyone anxious about the coming night. Dylan didn’t know how Ryan managed to seem so unfazed with it. He himself wanted to already crawl out of his skin. He could only guess that the rest of them felt the same, their eyes shifting colour now and then, small flashes of what was hiding inside, patiently waiting. Nick kept shaking his leg, Abi sat next to him and with her drawings, pen in constant motion, Jacob needed something to do with his hands, Emma bit her lip. Max leaned into Laura’s side and Kaitlyn kept going over the list with tasks for the next day. Ryan… Seemed to be unbothered. He did hug Dylan’s hand under the table now and then, and Dylan didn’t know if it was he himself or Ryan who had shuffled closer to the other during the evening. The sun had since long set, and outside was only the moon and darkness. Emma jumped up from her chair, her sudden movement making Abi next to her flinch.
“Okay! Since this, again, might be the last time we’re having dinner together, in this skin at least.” Emma said and pulled out her phone. “Smile! Try to show your best side even if that means ducking beneath the table.” Some groaned, others (Jacob) flung themselves across the table to strike some obnoxious pose. Dylan wrapped his arm around Ryan’s neck and pulled them both into frame. Emma took some photos while they sorted themselves out, including some selfies with them in the background. The flash went off on one, making all of them groan and rub their eyes. The resulting photo was however rather funny, as their eyes reflected the light, giving them the appearance of laser eyes. Emma was disappointed that she couldn’t post it anywhere, and Dylan suggested printing it out, which seemed to give her some devilish idea. He was scared to ask what.

A car pulled up outside and their laughter quickly faltered.
“Maybe it’s Travis?” Ryan suggested but no one believed it. All of them hurried to the windows, cupping their hands, and pressing their faces to the glass to be able to see out. Kaitlyn opened the door with a sigh and looked out.
“Act like you’re people for f*cks sake.” She muttered and glanced over towards the car. It stopped but didn’t turn off its engine, and nobody exited. Odd. Something in Dylan wanted to join her on the steps, and he followed the tug, easily looking over her head as he was trying to focus on the shape behind the headlights. Damn it was dark outside, only the moon and the lights from the lodge lit up the darkened yard. He knew nothing about cars, so to him it looked like a bigger sort of off-road vehicle. He couldn’t help but to look up at the moon, looming over the horizon with a promise: tomorrow it would be full.
“It’s not Travis.” Max immediately said. “One of his headlights is broken.” They all glanced towards the mysterious car again.
“Then who is it?” Emma voiced the question they all had.
“I don’t know but I don’t feel good about it.” Both Kaitlyn and Dylan stared at it, trying to discern more details. It was dark but maybe when his eyes got used to it, he’d be able to see better. A strange focus came over him as he squinted at the car, something sharp, almost primal. He blinked, feeling it reach his eyes.
“There’s two people in the car.” Kaitlyn said. He realized that he could see them too, and a couple of details he didn’t see before.
“It has lights on the roof. Wide tires. I think it’s blue?” He added.
“It’s a dodge ram. Heavy off-road model, expensive.” A bright, insidious spotlight was turned on, shooting a beam of light directly at their faces. Dylan felt his eyes burn. He staggered backwards with a pained, surprised gasp. It was impossible to see anything but the light, his eyes were watering. Kaitlyn yelled as well, cursing the mysterious car. Emma shouted at it, backed up by the rest of the pack. Ryan’s hands reached his shoulders, stabilizing him from tripping over his own feet.
“Take it easy.” Ryan said, wrapping an arm around him.
“f*ck, that was majorly unpleasant.” Dylan whined, opening his eyes, seeing nothing but the imprint of the spotlight. Someone rushed down the stairs as he heard the car speed off. Jacob shouted insults after it, like some angry dog chasing the mail man. A growl was heard from someone, he wasn’t sure who. Was that a thing now? Growling at cars? Dylan blinked and rubbed his eyes, finally able to see Ryan’s concerned face in front of him, a new, strange amber shine in his eyes. Beautiful.
“I must be dead, I see an angel.” It was incredibly cheesy to say, and it made Ryan blush and crack one of his rare smiles.
“Well, your eyes and wit are both back to normal.” Ryan said. “Both you and Kaitlyn got yellow eyes.” He added when he noticed Dylan’s confusion. That was, interesting.
“I just… I don’t know. I tried to focus I guess?” He had no answers. Did he just control an aspect of the wolf?
“I can see you’re thinking.” Ryan commented, the chatter of the rest of the group rising in the background. It didn’t bother him; it wasn’t like anything could distract him from Ryan’s voice anyway.
“I think I controlled it.” Surprise flooded Ryan’s expression, but before they could discuss further, they got roped into the current issue, the mysterious car. The road was supposed to be closed, if only with a chain and a padlock. Travis hadn’t officially opened the quarry after the incident, this was private property, people couldn’t come and go as they wanted. Even if it was a car with common thieves or burglars, it would still be a huge issue if they chose to come back tomorrow. Nick and Emma, who both chased after the car, couldn’t get more information. Not even an opportunity to tell them to piss of. The most frustrating part was that they couldn’t do anything about it, at least not now. Max and Laura offered to sit up an hour or two, to see if the car returned, but they all decided that it was best if they got a good night’s sleep instead. It was a big night tomorrow, anxiety and restlessness already creeping thru their bodies. Eyes flashing to the gaze of a monster for a second. Sounds and smells that went from non-existent to unbearable just as quickly. And, at least for Dylan, the urge to not leave Ryan’s side.

Chapter 6: Scent

Chapter Text

“Does it hurt?” Ryan asked.
“You have to be more specific as our current existence is a f*cking chaos.” Dylan tried to read his expression in the dimly lit room, moonlight filtering in thru the window.
“To transform.” Ryan’s voice was only a whisper. “It looks painful.” That was putting it mildly. It was a literal explosion. Dylan remembered how it felt to see his own fingernails be pushed out, how his hands started to fall apart and bleed. Exactly how it felt when his throat broke from screaming and turned into a roar.
“Yeah. It hurts.” He muttered. Nothing could be compared to forcing yourself to hold your breaking ribs in place to cage the monster clawing to escape. How you could feel and hear your tendons snap, how the final thing you heard was the sound of your own skin ripping apart together with your voice.
“It hurts to fight it. But it’s over quickly.” Dylan added, unsure if the truth would help. Ryan nodded and took a deep breath, probably realizing that there was more to it that he didn’t want to know. He looked up at Dylan but didn’t meet his gaze. It was the same look someone gives you when there’s something on your face.
“I don’t know if I should tell you when your eyes change colour.” Ryan said to his relief.
“They’re yellow?” There was no way to notice when they shifted, and it made him extremely paranoid. Did he have to spend the rest of his life checking his reflection every five minutes?
“Have been for a while.” Urgh. Dylan sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.
“I’ll try to supress it or something.”
“No!” Ryan said with little too much force. “I mean, no. Don’t. It… It suits you.” He said, more calmly and paused for a heartbeat. “You’re very pretty.” Dylan felt his face flush red and he couldn’t help but to smile. It was one of those compliments he would wrap up and store in a special place in his memory, to remember and cherish. One of those memories that made him feel all warm and fuzzy. A gentle hand reached his cheek, Ryan cupping his face in his hand, thumb stroking his cheek gently. Dylan found himself to relax into his touch once more. He could get used to this.
“Thank you.” He felt himself whisper, barely audible. Ryan didn’t need to hear it to get the message across. They sat together in silence, gleaming gold meeting brooding onyx, Ryan leaning forward to just look at his eyes with something akin to marvel. Damn he really wanted to kiss him. Dylan bit his lip, feeling his heartbeat in his ears, wanting to ask but unsure how. Or do you just go for it? How do you even ask for a kiss?
“Hey.” He managed to say, f*ck why were words so hard? Just say it! “Can I kiss y…”

Ryan cut him off with the answer, quickly pressing their lips together. The soft warmth that was his lips set that happy fuzzy feeling on fire and it burned. People often described feeling butterflies, but this, Dylan wanted to describe as flicking flames. He didn’t even have time to comprehend what just happened as Ryan backed with a small smile. Dylan felt his heart beat so fast it was almost deafening.
“Was that answer enough?” Ryan asked, waiting some seconds to allow Dylan’s brain to reboot. He just got a kiss. He just got a kiss! The fire burned, heating up his skin, probably reaching his eyes. Ryan smiled at his dumbfounded expression.
“It was a bit unclear; I think you need to demonstrate one more time.” Dylan managed to say, seeing that discreet gleam of amber in Ryan’s eyes. Ryan cupped his face with both of his hands, slowly leaning in and capturing his lips again. His scent, his taste, the sound of his heartbeats, Dylan wanted to absorb it all. He wrapped his arms around Ryan, one hand trailing up his neck into his soft hair. He tried his best to not claw but f*ck that wasn’t easy when you’re on fire. He backed, took a breath only to taste Ryan’s breath, and he kissed him again. Enthusiastically, pushing a bit, gently pulling his hair. It was new, scary, but oh so exciting to explore. Ryan’s fingers running thru his hair and down his neck, their lips together and breaths mixing. It took a bit of coaxing before any of them dared to open up, swipe their tongue over the other’s lips with a simple ask, may I? Dylan immediately accepted, drinking him in, properly tasting every aspect that was Ryan. A taste of stability, home, a cliff in a burning ocean where he could almost feel the flames licking his skin. He could easily go insane from this, tasting, breathing, kissing; together. Hands wandering down backs, fingers running thru hair, gasps leaving their lips. A deep, animalistic growl rolled up Dylan’s throat before he could stop it. He froze in place, reading Ryan’s expression. Growling? Was that what he did now? Unironically? He kicked himself mentally, an apology at the tip on his tongue. Ryan exhaled a shaky breath, leaning their foreheads together.
“Do that again.” He asked, putting both hands to Dylan’s chest. Something clawed inside Dylan’s ribcage, and he bared his teeth, first in pain, then just because he wanted to as he let whatever clawed growl to its heart’s content. It pulled him forward, kissing Ryan again, tasting him, stopping to nibble his lip. He growled, letting it mix with his breath as he exhaled. It had a meaning; but he wasn’t sure if Ryan picked up on it. Mine. You’re mine and I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. He traced his lips down his jawline, leaving small pecks as he came to his neck. Somehow his scent was strongest there, it was the best place to just nuzzle in, to nibble a bit on that perfect, brown skin. Mine. He wanted to bite again. Maybe later, he promised the urge in the back of his head. Maybe later.
“Looks like I fell for that raw, bestial power after all.” Ryan said with a chuckle. That conversation seemed to be so long ago. Dylan sighed, inhaling Ryan’s wonderful scent and exhaling with a deep, calm growl. It sounded a bit like the monsters that night, but another tone. Like they were the same language, but they were screaming and cursing, and he was whispering secrets.
“I told you you wouldn’t be able to stay away.” Dylan managed to say, the first words coming out together with the growl before he managed to control his voice. He left a last nibble on Ryan’s neck and leaned back, meeting his gaze.
“That was nice.” Ryan said with a small smile, a blush still on his cheeks.
“Remember to leave a nice yelp review.”
“No.”
“No?” Dylan asked, surprised, almost insulted. Ryan’s grip around him tightened.
“Do you think I want to attract others to share you with?” f*ck, if he wasn’t turned on before he was now. He smiled and kissed him again. They snuggled up together, kissing each other goodnight, and Dylan found that he was finally able to relax. With Ryan’s warmth by his side, his arms around him and his soothing scent in his lungs. He sighed and yawned, content, calm, happy.

For now.

The sun was evil. It woke them up too early and made the room too warm before they even wanted to think about getting up. Dylan woke up with a sun beam sneaking past the curtains and hitting him precisely in his face, as if the universe planned to wake him up. Maybe it did, because waking up with Ryan splayed out across his chest was probably the best thing that had happened to him this year. Excluding last night. His arm Ryan slept on was sore, but it was a low price to pay. Ryan was the easily the best blanket, ever. Dylan wrapped his free arm around Ryan and allowed himself to just exist for a moment. Footsteps wandered up and down the hall outside their room, no one in too much of a hurry. A bird tweeted outside, getting silenced by a gust of wind. Ryan was breathing steadily on his chest. With every breath he was able to fill his lungs with his and Ryan’s scent, twisting them together into something addicting. It was peaceful. A bit warm maybe, otherwise, perfect. Why couldn’t he just stay like this? Sleep a bit longer. Ryan sighed in his sleep, showing no signs of waking up any time soon. Dylan had no problem with that, he’d stay here all day if he could. He knew that time was running out, that sun would set to make way for the moon as it would rise over the horizon. They were all ticking bombs. Quite literally. The explosion wasn’t the dangerous part, it was the teeth and claws. Dylan buried his face in Ryan’s hair, closing his eyes to just forget about the future. Now was important. His arm around Ryan, their scents mingling in the air, even the dust particles floating thru the air, illuminated in the beams of sun light.

There was a knock on the door.
“Eleven hours to sunset!” Kaitlyn called.
“You’re evil!” Dylan groaned.
“Yes I am.” She continued down the hall, knocking on more doors. He heard Emma cuss her out in an almost barking manner. Ryan stirred awake, squinting at the light, slowly realizing where he was. He looked up, face only an inch from Dylan’s, his eyes that beautiful, dark amber. So that’s what his eyes would look like tonight? Beautiful, like a gemstone. Dylan could only guess that his own eyes still sported that yellow colour.
“I was wondering why my pillow was breathing.” Ryan said, voice still groggy from waking up. It made Dylan’s heart skip a beat. He had no right to sound so sexy this early.
“Morning, hot-stuff.”
“Morning, handsome.” Ryan stroked his fingers down Dylan’s cheek, gently cupping his face, a soft smile on his lips. “Handsome with golden eyes.” He stopped to crawl up a bit, close enough to be able to lean in for a kiss. Dylan quickly answered, his hand finding the back of Ryan’s neck. It was a soft, lazy kiss. If yesterday was a fire, this was glowing embers. Hotter than fire, but with a soft stillness. Dylan spent a second worrying about morning breath, until he realized that Ryan, somehow, tasted even better than yesterday. He just wanted to drink him in, and he tried to, parting his lips with a soft sigh. He felt a smile on Ryan’s lips as he kissed him back, spreading his fingers on his chest before clawing, gently pulling at his t-shirt. Dylan’s brain logged out, completely, as he wrapped both arms around that incredibly beautiful man and kissed him deeply. If Ryan kept feeding that glowing ember a fire would start again.
“You’re growling again.” Ryan said with a smile. sh*t, he didn’t even realize. He groaned in frustration.
“I think it’s cute.” Ryan added. It made Dylan feel a bit better, but it didn’t erase the frustration of not being in control over his own voice. He sat up, hating the curse, hating what it ruined, burying his face in his hands. Ryan gave him a minute, how he was able to just create comfortable silence was beyond Dylan.
“I don’t have any control over it.” He looked down at his hands, almost expecting to see blood and claws breaking thru. Now when he sat up, the anxiety and restlessness was back, with a vengeance. It didn’t help when someone, sounded like Jacob, ran thru the hall outside their room. It felt like ants crawled under his skin. He barely noticed Ryan moving to sit next to him.
“Maybe it’s best if I go somewhere alone to shift, so I don’t hurt anyone?” He couldn’t help to let the words leave his mouth.
“What?” Ryan frowned at him, both confused and almost insulted. “No, why would you even say something like that?” He didn’t know himself; his head was a mess. First, he wanted nothing more than to be close to Ryan, then he wanted to run away, lock himself up so he couldn’t hurt anyone. His mood swung fast enough to give anyone whiplash. It wasn’t like him, and he started to realize it. Anxiety was something he could recognize and handle. It was familiar and he knew how to work around it. This was something else. He shook his head with a sigh.
“I think I discovered a new symptom.” He said, feeling able to meet Ryan’s gaze again. “Mood swings.” Realization washed over Ryan’s face.
“Makes a lot of sense.” He said as Dylan sighed, trying to ignore all the strange ways the wolf wanted to pull him in.
“One thing at a time.” Ryan suggested. “Let’s start with breakfast.” That was a fantastic idea, he was starving.

Chapter 7: Wait

Chapter Text

It was incredibly weird to always be able to hear what the others were up to, to smell who had walked down the hall most recently, to hear that Laura started to fry bacon before the smell reached them, and to hear birds beneath the roof and mice in the walls. Dylan noticed, to his relief, that he wasn’t the only one who growled, on accident or purpose. Max stubbed his toe on a corner and let out a hilariously cute whine. The breakfast was probably something Jacob ate on a daily basis, at least when it came to protein intake. Dylan easily inhaled a plate with bacon, before even thinking about eating anything else. Even Ryan next to him hade a slice or two, and he didn’t even like bacon. There was an anxiety lingering in the air, a tension and unspoken fear. They all hoped, hoped, hoped, that this night would be different, and tried their best to put on a positive mask. The new eye colours were a good distraction. Dylan guessed that they all would sport identical, yellow eyes, but that wasn’t the case. Max, Kaitlyn, and Laura had yellow eyes, Max’s easily the most intense colour of them all, Laura’s more muted and Kaitlyn needed no extra colour to be terrifying. Emma was visibly startled when she saw Max that morning. Even though Max had apologized several times, it was obvious that he still blamed himself for almost killing her. He kept his head down, more apologies falling from his lips until Emma got up and hugged him, forgiving him again. Then it was Max’s turn to get startled by her eyes. The interaction was both sad and hilarious to witness. Both Abi and Emma had woken up with red eyes. Emma’s was more on the orange side, like a wildfire, but Abi’s were nothing but the colour of fresh blood, almost glowing. She hated it and kept her head down, focusing on her breakfast. Nick next to her made them look like a stoplight, as Nick was the only one who had a tint of green in his pale, almost luminescent eyes.
“You look like a radioactive lime.” Jacob told him. It was comically fitting. Jacob’s own eyes were terrifying from a distance, as their colour made it look like the colour had been inverted, black sclera and white pupil. On closer inspection, it was more that his irises were almost black and quickly faded into pale gold around a smaller pupil. The best description was provided by Abi, an eclipse. There were a lot of awkwardly weird eye-contact that was made during breakfast. Jacob even challenged Nick to a staring contest, while eating cereal. Dylan watched, again putting on his best radio voice to narrate the otherwise extremely boring contest. It made Abi giggle, and Jacob almost spat out his food while trying to hold back a laughter.
“Not everything has to be a competition, you know?” Emma sighed and rolled her eyes at them.
“Let them swing around their tiny dicks and figure out who’s the alpha.” Kaitlyn said, poking a metaphorical hornet’s nest and she knew it very well.
“It’s me!” Jacob barked and jumped up. Dylan slowly slid away on the bench with his cereal, pushing Ryan with him. He was so not getting involved in that. There was already a loud discussion about whether Jacob was the alpha or not. It was mostly him just getting roasted so business as usual.
“You do realize that you being an alpha makes you our dad, right?” Laura interrupted, halting the discussion. Jacob gaped in confusion. This could Dylan so get involved in. He leaned towards Jacob on the opposite side of the table, getting his attention and catching his gaze.
“Is that so, daddy?” He said, hoping it wouldn’t backfire on him. Ryan was right there sitting next to him for crying out loud. Fortunately, Emma backed him up by mimicking his move, putting on her best seductive performance, slowly stroking her hand down Jacob’s arm. Jacob’s face immediately flushed red, and he backed away, almost tripping over the bench in the process.
“Never mind! I quit!” He yelled, throwing up his hands and hurrying into the kitchen to just escape. “Nick, you take over!”
“Don’t you dare put this on me!” Nick shouted after him. Emma shot one look to Dylan and they both turned their attention towards Nick instead. Nobody was ready for the deep, animalistic growl that suddenly rose from Abi next to him, not how she bared her teeth and locked eyes with Dylan in front of her. Dylan didn’t know if it was shock or fear that made him recoil, there was something in him that told him to shrink, to cower. It seemed to shock Abi too, as she slapped both hands for her mouth, blush on her cheeks and a look of shock on her face.
“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered, still holding her hands to her mouth, as if she tried to hide. Dylan recognized that feeling, the feeling of losing control.
“Maybe it’s time to get on with the day!” Kaitlyn announced and rose from her seat, breaking the awkward silence. They started to clear the table. Before Dylan left, he turned to Abi.
“It’s okay. I’ve also done that.” He admitted, trying to sound understanding. “More than once.” He added, getting a small smile from her.
“Rule six.” Nick added from her side, hugging her hand. “We’re in this together.”

9 hours to sunset.
They started with preparing snacks for the day. Dylan thanked Nick for packing ridiculously amounts of food, they all started to get hungry again. They packed their bags for the night. A light backpack with their supplies for the night, including a change of clothes, too much food, water, and a random assortment of restraints. If they felt like using them.
“It looks like we’re heading to some weird, hiking BDSM event.” Dylan muttered as he packed his backpack. Where did they even get 20m of steel chain? He didn’t want to know.

8 hours to sunset.
There was a knock on the door, and Jacob started barking. Thankfully, it still sounded somewhat human.
“We need to stop him.” Dylan muttered to a room that only agreed.
“Maybe you need to outbark him?” Ryan suggested, fiddling with his backpack.
“We should have a barking contest.” Emma whispered, not wanting Kaitlyn to hear. They all heard the front door open and how Travis stepped inside. It was only proper to at least peak out the kitchen and say hi. The three of them did just that, hanging in the doorway. Travis looked just as tired as usual, but now he had a puzzled expression as well.
“It smells like wet dog in here.” He deadpanned. Both Emma and Dylan gave themselves a quick sniff, suddenly self-conscious. Ryan rolled his eyes at them.
“It’s probably you that smells.” Dylan muttered to Emma who elbowed him in the side. Okay, he deserved that.
“I think it’s the hall. Everything mixes.” Emma said. “The sum of our collective scents seems to be wet dog.” She sighed and crossed her arms. Laura and Max grabbed their bags, getting ready to drive off to the station to make some final preparations. And double-check everything. Dylan overheard Max ask Travis if he knew something about the mysterious car that visited them last evening, but the sheriff seemed just as perplexed as them. Wonderful.

The seven of them that remained went off to the island, as there were some Max-sized holes that needed to be patched. It was interesting to paddle over, all of them dreaded falling in. To even be on the water made every hair on Dylan’s body to stand on end. Every nerve in his being told him to get away from the water. It was a big relief to step onto the wooden bridge. Even Ryan, who usually loved sailing, was unnerved. Dylan had never been especially handy when it came to building something that wasn’t tech related. He liked metal and wires, not wood, hammer, and nails. They had to fix the door to the tree house, the ladder up to the loft, and one or two railings before they even began to fix something that could keep Kaitlyn and Jacob safe. Dylan was happy to just carry what Kaitlyn told him to carry, hold boards in place as Abi hammered nails in place, help Jacob lift the door so new hinges could be installed. Just give him something to do. Sitting still almost hurt. Even standing still, holding the door in place, made him restless. And hungry.
“All done!” Jacob said from the other side of the door. “You can let go now.” Jacob slapped his hand to the door as Dylan let go, the door creaked worryingly on its hinges. Even with his very limited knowledge about woodworking, he could recognize this as a very poor attempt at repairing a door. The hinges maybe held, but the boards Jacob used to patch the door were all rotten and unevenly placed.
“Dude, there’s no way that’s werewolf safe.” Dylan said, pushing it gently. It didn’t budge. Dylan could hear Jacob breathe on the other side of the door and something between a growl and a sigh left him.
“No, no, no, it’s very safe. You should be able to open it.” Jacob chuckled, obviously with his back against the door. He couldn’t even lie convincingly. Now, if Dylan wasn’t hungry and grumpy, he wouldn’t even have thought about knocking on the door as close to Jacob’s ears as possible. When he was hungry and grumpy, he did just that, with his fist.

His hand went thru the door as if he was punching wet cardboard. Wood splintered under his knuckles, and he slipped forward, memories of getting pulled thru a wooden ceiling flashing thru his mind. Teeth around his wrist, his skin pulling apart, his blood splattering the walls. He barely heard Jacob’s surprised yelp on the other side of the door. The wood scratching his skin, his wrist in a set of jaws, the fear that whatever it was would rip his arm of.
“Dude what the… flying flip flops?!” Jacob exclaimed, tugging at the door. Just like Silas tugged at his arm, the disease flooding thru his veins, burning, corrupting, turning.
“Dylan?” Jacob’s voice seemed so far away.
“Yeah.” Dylan shook his head, tried to focus on the now. He punched thru a door. He didn’t mean to! It was just supposed to startle Jacob a little.
“Why did you do that?!” Jacob exclaimed, gesturing towards the door. Dylan sighed, pulling his arm free, leaving a noticeable, new hole in the door. His knuckles were bloody, a scratch or two was on his arm, but it didn’t hurt.
“I just tried to open the door.” One of the planks fell off the door, landing on the floor with a thud. Jacob seemed to notice his puzzled look and shifted his attention from the hole in the door.
“Are you okay?” He asked, putting a stable hand onto his shoulder. “You look a bit… out of it.”
“Yeah. Just, remembering other times I’ve gotten my hand pulled thru a wooded ceiling by a werewolf.” Jacob nodded knowingly.
“Take a breather while I fix this before Kaitlyn sees it.”

4 hours to sunset.
Some of them went out to place extra caches of supplies, some (Dylan) made sure that they each had a working radio, some (Dylan) rewired the breakers so that they made sense and were usable by an ordinary human being. It was a wonder that no one had gotten electrocuted yet. Max and Emma managed to help him get the radios working. They got four of them going. One for each group and one placed in the lodge as back-up. Dylan was stressed but happy that he got a distraction. Ryan helped the best way he could, listening as Dylan muttered under his breath whet he tried to do. If they hade more time, Dylan would’ve happily explained what he was doing. Right now, they just didn’t have that luxury. It got harder and harder to hold back growls, no amount of snacks could sate the gnawing hunger and Dylan found himself drying sweat from his brow again and again. The ants under his skin were back, crawling and creeping, there was a pressure in his chest, as something wanted to get out. He could never take a breath deep enough.

2 hours to sunset.
Dinner was eaten in a tense silence. Not even Jacob managed to joke around. They all felt awful, bags under their eyes, the disgusting veins on their skin and sweat on their brow. Their voices sometimes failed them, breaking into a growl or whine. Even eating started to become difficult as their teeth slowly changed shape. It was just as sh*tty as Dylan remembered it, the bite on his arm flaring up, scar darkening, clearly the source of the infection. It burnt and itched, the only way for it to stop was when Ryan gently ran his fingers over it. His presence was enough of a distraction to calm the burning nerves. Dylan just hoped that he provided some stability for Ryan as well, instead of bringing a ball with twisted strands of anxiety. Jacob kept rubbing his neck, the irritation of the bite crawling up his neck. Nick still had a bad case of restless leg syndrome. It still felt wrong to split up the group, Max voiced his concerns more than once. They were all scared, no one needed to say it, it was clearly visible in their eyes. The nine of them gathered in the hall, everyone as ready as they could be. Bags, radio, food, expendable clothing. Jacob was the one who huddled them together in a circle, arms around each other, heads together, like a team before a match.
“I’ll see you all here tomorrow.” He said to the group, the pack. “Promise me.” Dylan gritted his teeth together, already feeling them shift and change.
“Promise.” Kaitlyn said, and Dylan repeated her words, tugging the people next to him, Ryan, and Nick, closer.
“Hackett’s Quarry forever.”

1 hour to sunset.
It was time.

Chapter 8: Sunset

Chapter Text

The four of them huddled together in the tree house, hovering over the weather app that counted down to sunset. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Their radio sparked to life in the corner, Emma’s voice cutting thru.

“Three minutes left!”

“Thank you, we can tell the time.” Kaitlyn muttered to herself, grimacing in discomfort. She was visibly just as nervous as the rest of them. “We really should split up.”
“Do you want to split up?” Dylan asked, hugging Ryan’s hand, their shoulders touching. It would probably be safer splitting up. He didn’t want to, then there would be no one around to keep him from hurting Ryan if he lost control. His scent had clouded his senses the whole day. If Dylan didn’t know where Ryan was, he’d go crazy. He needed to smell his scent, hear his breathing, hold his hand. Just be close.
“When the sun sets, Jacob and I will head down to the boat house, as planned.” Kaitlyn said. Even that decision made a strange uneasiness flood over Dylan. The wolf wanted to stay together. The radio sparked again.

“One minute left! How are you all holding up? Nick’s……*spark* Not doing too good.”

Emma said thru the radio. The sound wasn’t the best, but it sounded like growls in the background. Dylan grabbed the radio, pressing the button.
“We’re okay. Over.”

“Laura and I are locked up, *spark* Travis says hi…” Max’s voice came thru.

“I’m okay, just, hurts.” Nick said, a distance from the mic, probably trying to ease their worries.

The phone pinged.
It was time. Dylan hugged Ryan’s hand, they both taking a shaking breath. Kaitlyn quickly got up, gesturing to Jacob to do the same.
“See you on the other side.” She said, looking at them both, as if she wanted to see their faces for the last time. Jacob doubled over with a groan that turned into a growl as he stumbled towards the door.
“Okay, time to go. Great to have you over, drive safely.” Dylan said, pushing them both out the door. “Stay safe.” He added, seeing Jacob doing a thumbs up while hurrying down the steps, blood starting to drip from his hands.
“Stay safe, remember the rules.” Kaitlyn said, flinching as something in her made a snapping sound.
“We know, go now!” Dylan said, grabbing her shoulders and physically turning her around, giving her a light push. She glared at him but understood his worries and hurried away down the stairs.
“Hurry! Don’t slip!” Ryan said, urgency in his voice. They waited until they heard the door to the boathouse slam shut before closing and locking the door. Kaitlyn and Jacob were inside, safe. Dylan took a deep breath as he leaned against the closed door, his lungs filled with what felt like shards of glass. He should lock himself up. He should stay close to Ryan. He should get away so he couldn’t hurt anyone. He had to support Ryan. He needed to keep Ryan safe from himself. He needed to stay close to Ryan, he needed him, his scent, his touch… He should get his thoughts in order. The radio sparked, but nothing comprehensible came thru. Ryan grabbed his arm with an iron grip.
“It hurts.” Ryan managed to say, the helplessness in his voice crushing something in Dylan. He could do nothing to help, nothing except wrapping his arms around him and hold him, tucking his head to his chest and bury his face in his soft hair, gritting his own teeth in pain.
“It’s okay. We’ll get thru this.” Dylan whispered, trying desperately to hide the pain in his voice. His own skin felt like it was going to split open. He cupped Ryan’s face with his hands, blood already leaking from underneath one of his nails.
“I’ll be only up the ladder, okay?” He said, voice turning and heart breaking over the fear he saw in Ryan’s eyes. “See you at sunrise.” A howl echoed from outside, an inhuman, monstrous noise that made the thing inside him scramble to get out. His knuckles started to crack, he took a deep breath, trying to tell it to just wait a little bit. Patience. Ryan pulled him down into a quick kiss and it was almost a crime that Dylan couldn’t stay to enjoy it. He could almost taste the fear and desperation along with the iron and sweat. When Ryan backed he chased after him, not wanting to let go just yet.
“Get up the ladder.” Ryan growled; teeth gritted. “Hurry.” Dylan nodded, starting to ascend the ladder before he changed his mind. Before the wolf decided that it wanted to sink its teeth into Ryan’s neck. It was like pulling your body from quicksand, like fighting thru a current. His face hurt, his teeth grew, he couldn’t close his mouth. He glanced down at Ryan, meeting his gaze, hoping, and praying that this wasn’t the last time he saw him.
“Don’t die on me. You promised me a date.” Dylan said, half of the words probably incomprehensible, but it managed to spread a smile on Ryan’s lips before he had to duck down, doubling over in pain. It was harder for Dylan to rip his gaze from Ryan and close the hatch than to hold back the transformation. As soon the hatch closed behind him, he fell onto his side, exhausted, groaning in pain. Another howl was heard, another calling for him to join them. How he could recognize it as Kaitlyn, he had no idea. How he understood that she called, that she wanted them to join her and Jacob, he didn’t know, but he knew what the howls meant. Maybe he should break out and join them, he just needed to know that Ryan was safe. That he shifted okay. Dylan clawed at the floor, seeing how his nails fell off as claws were ready to burst forward. The pressure inside his head was immense, threatening to split his skull open. His ribs started to crack. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear anything except his quickened heartbeat, his blood thundering in his ears. The sight of the wooden floor blurred, tears obstructing his vision, the taste of iron filling his mouth. Not yet. Not yet. Ryan had to be safe, he had to shift into new skin that could protect him from danger… from Dylan, if he lost control. He gasped for air, wrapping his arms around his chest, he could feel his ribs move… The floor almost vibrated as a sickening, ripping noise carried over into a roar that sent shivers thru him. Shift. His body told him. Join them, shift. A whine came from Ryan downstairs, waiting for him. Ryan was okay. Ryan was okay. He could let go. His own body forced him to stand up, something unfolding along with his spine. Every limb, every finger, every toe, his face, his skin was ready to burst. He closed his eyes.

He could let go.

And he did.

He felt every rib snap, his skin split, a scream of pain turning into a roar as his jaw got replaced. It took forever and was over in a heartbeat at the same time. The last thing he remembered, was the sound of his own skin and blood hitting the floor, walls, ceiling, then nothing.

Until what could be ten second later when he hit his head on the ceiling.

He stumbled, legs alien and strange, his feet an amalgamation of wolfish and human features. The world spun with his stumble and this time he fell over, slipping on shed skin and blood, catching himself with two strange, bloody hands. He stared at the hands holding him up, dark grey skin, thick, black claws that dug themselves into the floor. Dark brown, thick hairs growing up his arms. What should’ve been a gasp left what should’ve been his lips, instead a deep, growling grunt left his jaws.
He was… aware? Dylan slowly moved, closing, and opening what was but wasn’t his hand. It was clearly his hand, but it didn’t feel like it was a part of him, it felt like he was controlling an alien body, like something was allowing him to control it. He was the one at the helm, his hands on the controls, but there was something looming over him, grabbing his hands, and forcing them to steer against his will. Something old, primal, instinctual. The same instinct that tells you to pull away from a hot plate, to cover your ears at a loud noise, to hold your breath under water. Whispering instructions in his ear in an ancient language without words. It wasn’t evil. If anything, it was protective. Protective of him, of Ryan, of his pack. He had a pack, it told him. It had been a pack for a while. Humans are just so slow at realizing it, especially the pups. He had no idea how long he sat there, staring at his hands, slowly coming to terms with what just happened.

He was a werewolf. He was a werewolf.

He scrambled to his feet, stumbling again, hitting his head on a beam with a thud. Why was he taller?! It felt like he was walking on his toes and stilts at the same time. He wasn’t mentally prepared for this! What now? His clothes were ruined to begin with, well, maybe he could salvage his pants into a pair of shorts? After an awkward spin to look at himself he realized that his shirt was beyond saving and he was relieved that he remembered to take of his shoes as his feet has extended into some wolfish nightmare. Paws. He had paws. No tail, but he counted that as a win. He would only manage to trip on it or get it stuck in a door. When he ran his hands over his head he noticed scruffy hair, the same dark brown as usual, running down his neck, his shoulders, creating tufts at his elbows. His ears were where he left them, but pointy. Ryan was growling downstairs, wandering in circles, claws scraping against the floor. Dylan’s attention shifted totally. Ryan. His Ryan. He could be there! His new hands fumbled with the hasp to the hatch, as he growled and whined in frustration. Ryan was on the other side, his claws scraping against the wood. His Ryan. And Dylan needed him, wanted him, had to get to him. He managed to pull the hatch open, now covered in scratches, and as soon as he saw those beautiful amber eyes, he dove for them.

In hindsight, it was a horrible idea.

Diving headfirst down a hatch was rarely a good idea. Especially if you’re a tall and heavy werewolf covered in blood. He landed relatively soft; the only problem was that Ryan was the one to break his fall. Ryan groaned beneath him, and Dylan quickly got up, making sure he wasn’t hurt.
“Are you okay?” Was what he tried to say but only a guttural growl left him. Ryan glared at him, his gaze delivering a clear message: “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Dylan tried to chuckle, and a huffing growl was what left him. Ryan made no move to get up, amber almost glowing, gaze visibly wandering over Dylan’s new form, almost sizing him up. As if he wanted to eat him, in one way or another. It would be terrifying to have a werewolf look at you like you were a piece of meat unless you were a werewolf yourself. Ryan finally met his gaze and held it. His eyes were the same, the same shape, same brooding look, same colour as the last hours. His hair was still black, starting in his usual curls and then straightening out into tufts of almost fur. But that was where any similarities stopped. A snout stretched the dark, dirt grey skin, deformed what was once his nose, sharp teeth sticking out in odd angles, forcing a permanent snarl. It wasn’t pretty, but it was still Ryan underneath it, and that was all that mattered. His Ryan. His. Dylan lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s new frame, inhaling the scent of his blood and fur, hugging him, wishing he could tell him how happy he was, how relieved that the monsters hadn’t returned. A whine was all he could muster. Ryan flinched and tensed up, before he realized that Dylan wasn’t attacking him, he was just bad at initiating hugs. He relaxed, leaning his head to Dylan’s shoulder with a deep sigh. They were okay. They were safe. Dylan wanted to cry in relief, but right now he was more than content to just relax into Ryan’s arms. Into Ryan’s new, strong, muscular arms. Okay, he could definitely get used to that. If it didn’t come with the drawback of lycanthropy. Could they spend the rest of the full moon like this? Just together, in each other’s arms? Dylan would be perfectly fine with that. The room was covered in Ryan’s scent, yet he couldn’t get enough of it. He buried his nose in his hair, not caring about the wayward strands that got into his mouth. How could he smell so good? Intoxicating, mesmerising. It almost hurt to not be able to kiss him, so Dylan settled for the next best thing, and nibbled the tip of Ryan’s ear. Ryan let out something that sounded like a snorting laugh. Cute. He wanted to hear more of that, so he kept nibbling, along his jawline, slowly down his neck to a spot just under his ear. The hook of his neck was always the best place to nuzzle in. His scent was strongest there. Right there. He needed it, wanted it. It was his. His blood smelled so good on Ryan it was insane. It let others know, that he was taken. If anyone tried to harm him, he’d tear them to shreds. An unintentional growl left him, and he leaned back, taking a deep breath, realizing how his thoughts started to derail. Dylan groaned at his messy thoughts and foggy mind, everything human clouded and pushed away to leave place for the wolf. He still had control. He nibbled Ryan’s neck. He had control. He hoped.

Even though Ryan seemed perfectly fine with his nibbling, he didn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable, especially since it was impossible to talk. He couldn’t communicate. They didn’t even have paper nor pencil and even if they did, stopping to write things down put a damper on the mood. He still wished that they had something to write on. Dylan remembered that he did have his phone. Of course! After detangling himself from Ryan, he climbed back up the ladder and he reached for his bag, trying to not break anything as he opened it and reached for his phone. Did werewolf hands work on touch screens? They did. His fingerprint did not. Nor did face recognition and he felt stupid for even trying. Ryan chuckled at his frustration with that deep, growling voice and how did he manage to sound so endearing? Himself he probably looked ridiculous, trying to pull up the camera on his phone so he at least could know how scary he looked. Stupid, clawed paws… Terrifying, bloody teeth appeared on his screen. He flinched and fumbled with his phone, almost dropping it. Ryan laughed again and it was too cute for Dylan to be mad at him. He turned his attention to his phone, finally able to punch in his code and access the camera to assess the disaster that was his face. It was like Ryan’s, sharp teeth, eyes holding a shadow of his human self, deformed nose. He had sideburns! That was mildly amusing. His hair was a mess, but at least he had hair this time. A lot of it. He was… fuzzy. He ran his claws thru his hair, scratching at his scalp. These claws would make the best back scratcher. Ryan leaned close to him, studying his own appearance with a look of disgust. Dylan wished he could tell him how it didn’t matter. He pushed his nose to Ryan’s cheek, the closest he could come to a kiss, hoping he understood what he meant. They were both a mess, looking good wasn’t on the top of the list. Things like avoid eating people, and don’t kill anyone, was priority. Dylan looked at the phone in his hand. He could tell Ryan, it was the reason to why he fetched it to begin with! He pulled up a notepad on his phone and began awkwardly typing.
“You are the sexiest werewolf I’ve ever seen.” He showed it to Ryan who shook his head with what could be a smile, probably blushing somewhere under the fur and blood. Dylan “kissed” his cheek again. Not talking would be frustrating. 98% of his jokes were gone. Ryan grabbed the phone from him and began typing.
“Should we see if the others are okay?” He typed and pointed at the door. Right. There were other people, uh, werewolves, here. After putting away his phone again, he cupped Ryan’s face with his hands, ruffling his sideburns with what he hoped could be interpreted as a smile. If Dylan had to be stuck as a scary monster, trapped on an island, scared and anxious, he was happy that he wasn’t alone, and he was incredibly grateful that he was with Ryan.

Chapter 9: Hunt

Chapter Text

Dylan never thought that he would be happy to receive a tackle from Jacob. But there was no way he could be mad at that kind of enthusiasm, even when it led to being violently body slammed into the ground by a mass that smelled of locker room and wet dog. It was like getting hit by a happy train. In fact, it was fun. Jacob’s playfulness was contagious, a light, easy happiness. If he wanted to play, let’s play. Dylan wrapped his new arms around the mass that was Jacob, straining to just push him to the side. Dylan tossed him to the side. Tossed. A surprised yelp escaped Jacob as he tumbled around, landed on all fours, and shook his head. Dylan stared at him, then his own hands, then at Jacob again. He just tossed a giant werewolf. A surprised gasp of wonder escaped his jaws. He was strong. His wonder was cut short as Jacob tackled him again with a bark that could be a laugh. He was still pretty much himself, just a bit fuzzy. Short, dark fur, a wide snout filled with teeth, sporting a big grin and with his tongue hanging out. It would be terrifying, but this was Jacob. He looked too happy to be scary. He was clearly having a blast, tackling, and wrestling. It was honestly what they needed, even if no one would admit to it. The last days had been dreadful, filled with fear and worry over the full moon. They could let that go for now. They were four werewolves on an island. There were no one they could hurt. Even Kaitlyn managed to let lose a bit. She was still tiny, at least when it came to werewolf standards. But she was also terrifying, yellow, piercing eyes staring from a snarling face framed with black hair. And she was fast, easily running in circles around Jacob. There was a strange grace to her movements, a nimbleness that came over her when she ran in all fours, and left the moment she stood up.

Dylan let the instincts slowly take over, putting his body on autopilot and leaning back, exhausted to think and fight it. It was freeing, running on all four, chasing interesting scents, nipping Jacob in the heels, playfully wrestling with all three of them only to underestimate how insanely strong Jacob was and get tossed into a tree. Climb up said tree and howl at the moon like a maniac. It was stupid, but fun. Dylan wasn’t the first one to climb this tree, he could see broken branches near the top. Had they let kids climb up here? No. He pushed his nose to the bark, curious, sniffing around until he found a deep scratch with a speck of scent left. It smelled sick. Rotten, wrong, evil. He frowned at it, snorted to get it out from his nose. The rest of the pack called him back down, and he fell and or climbed down, thru branches and pines, forgetting about the foul stench. All pain seemed to be so far away. It still hurt to get scratched, to tumble on the ground, to get tackled by Jacob, but it was easy to ignore. Any scratch, any cut, stung for but a second, then it healed in a minute. To run next to Ryan, to playfully nip at him, tackle him, tumble thru grass and mud was so easy, free of worries. It was easy to not care about being human. Dylan didn’t need to think about not being funny, about what to say, not even about hurting anyone, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone. They were neigh invulnerable.

The radio sparked to life, immediately gaining their attention.
They all hurried up to the tree house, Kaitlyn arriving first and listening intently. A transmission was coming thru, and Dylan thought he heard whining which made his hair stand on end. Ryan was also staring at the radio, worry in his eyes, hackles slowly raising.

“…three accounted for…*spark* round them up…”

The male voice coming thru was unfamiliar, rough, and hostile. The four of them exchanged worried looks. Another whine cut thru, this time closer to the mic, and Dylan recognized it as Emma. She didn’t stop her broadcasting, probably trying to pick up as much of the mysterious conversation as she could, unable to speak herself. Dylan did understand her whines. Danger. Help. Scared.

“…llets seems to hurt but… *spark* …. neutralize them for…*spark*”

Another unfamiliar voice said. Emma’s whines turned into rumbling growls as a stranger’s approaching footsteps came thru. Nick roared suddenly in the background, only to be silenced by gunfire. It only fanned the flames that was their anger, as growling and barking cut thru the speaker, drowned out by more gunfire. A whine left Dylan, dread flowing over him like an icy shadow. Not again. They got hurt again. Ryan didn’t stay to hear the end of the call, turning and dashing towards the boats. Dylan followed his lead, despite not wanting to run into gunfire. Where Ryan went, he went. The playfulness was pushed aside by a wave of dread. Not again. Who wanted to hurt them now? He should’ve stayed in bed that morning. Instead of rushing after Ryan and Kaitlyn into damn boats on damn water. Then the dark forest towards damn gunfire. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want any more danger, why couldn’t they run from danger instead of towards it. Why did it have to be them and their pack? As soon as they stepped ashore, a bit of that dread eased. The forest seemed less dangerous now. It was their forest. Kaitlyn called attention with a demanding bark. She reached down and wrote in the dirt using a long claw.

“Towards cages. Keep everyone safe.”

Dylan quickly added two words at the end.

“Be careful.”

They met each other’s gaze, determined, angry, prepared, and worried. They set off, running through the dark, eerily familiar woods. Taking what they knew was the shortest route to the Hackett’s house. Or at least Dylan thought so, he followed Ryan’s scent and the sound of his footsteps. Every breath felt like a part of a powerful machine, his breath turning into mist in the chilly air. He kicked up dirt with every step, dug his claws into moss, dirt, wood, gravel. Thud-thud, thud-thud, they jumped over a small spring. Jacob ran next to Dylan, his steps almost shaking the ground, pulling the air thru his powerful lungs. Thud-thud, thud-thud. Dylan could hear it now, sounds of a car engine. Someone driving thru the night, going too fast for it to be safe. Ryan let out a quiet bark, faster. Dylan’s breath sounded monstrous in his own ears; it was a wonder that he could hear anything else at all. They slid onto a familiar path, marked by fresh tires. Dylan could smell it now, the scent of strangers. Something flicked in his brain. Intruders. The scent of werewolf blood. Nick’s blood. Abi’s blood. Emma’s blood. Intruders. Jacob growled with every breath, saliva starting to foam at the corners of his mouth. Someone was going to pay. Hunt. A howl cut thru the night, affirming that they were on the right track. It was Nick, howling for help, for back-up, signalling danger. HUNT. Dylan tried to speed up, his lungs burning from exertion. Yet, he wasn’t tired, not a bit. The infected blood flowed thru his veins like fire. He snorted as the smell of exhaust fumes stung his nose, mixed with the scent of Nick’s blood. Ryan barked three times, low, rumbling sounds. Dylan had no idea what he meant, until a minute later when he spotted the taillights. Three cars. Kaitlyn took off, way faster than the rest of them. The road was turning, and Ryan caught Dylan’s gaze and took off into the forest to intercept the cars. Jacob kept going after Kaitlyn while Dylan followed Ryan. Over rocks and logs, thru ferns, and past pines. He could see the cars now, three similar cars. Dylan recognized the first one. It was the mysterious car that had blinded them the night before. A blue truck with wide tires and light on the roof. The middle car was a van of some sort, the last one another pick-up, with something on the bed. A cage. The last car lit a spotlight, illuminating Jacob on the road, his eyes reflecting the light, white teeth bared in a snarl, wide, muscular arms ending in clawed hands. Damn he looked scary. Ryan ran up a rock, using it as a ramp to leap out of the forest, landing on the roof of the van, the sound of steel tearing under his claws. A growl escaped him as he started to open the van like a giant tin can, claws slowly tearing thru the metal. Damn he looked hot. Dylan almost ran into a tree. He remembered to close his mouth. Stop drooling! Ryan was okay, Kaitlyn bit and punctured a tire that made the last car slow down, allowing Jacob to catch up and leap onto it with a roar, the impact making the car swerve.

Someone co*cked a gun.

Dylan spotted a man crouching on the bed of the truck, a rifle aimed at Ryan. His Ryan. Dylan saw red, wanted his teeth to reach flesh and tear it apart. He took two strides, and leapt at the man with a roar, knocking him down, pinning him to the floor. DIE. The gun went off, something stinging Dylan’s shoulder but he chose to ignore it as he fully intended to tear out this throat with his teeth. The scent of fear filled his lungs. Something got caught in his teeth before they hit their intended target. Dylan growled, biting down harder, metal crunching under his teeth, realizing that he was biting the rifle. The man groaned in pain, his eyes wide with fear, his dark uniform already wet with blood as Dylan dug his claws into his shoulder. DIE. He swiped at him with his other hand, clawing up his arm, the man letting out a grunt of pain.
“Get off me, you vile beast…” The man grunted, trying to push the werewolf away. Dylan was barely at the controls anymore, the primal influence covering his senses, screaming at him to make this man bleed. He could’ve hurt Ryan. Could’ve hurt. Could. He didn’t. Dylan froze for a second, met the man’s gaze, dark, blue eyes staring at him, filled with hate, filled with humanity. He could’ve been in his late 40’s, salt and pepper beard, crow’s feet around his eyes. It was someone’s son. Someone’s brother, husband, father? Dylan was harming someone. He tried to bite and curse someone. He tried to kill someone. His claws had scratched the man’s chest, drawn his blood and the scent of it stung his nose, blood, human blood was running thru his fingers. KILL. He fought against the urge to sink his claws into the man’s throat. Noticing his hesitation, the man pulled a knife from his belt, stabbing it into Dylan’s neck. Once. Thick, warm, blood, filled Dylan’s throat. Twice. He coughed; his mouth filled with blood. Dylan ripped the rifle from the man’s grip, tossing it into the woods, growling, blood dripping from his mouth. The knife hit him again, this time straight to his chest. That did hurt a bit. The car sped up under their feet, Dylan stumbling backwards, almost slipping of the truck. He dug his claws into the steel as the truck swerved, trying to shake off the werewolf on its bed. Dylan’s face was violently introduced to a heavy leather boot, making him slip when pain shot thru his nose. The bed of the car ended, his foot found air and he fell. Gravel, dirt, rocks, the world spun as he tumbled to the ground. He didn’t know what was up or down, only to shield his eyes and burning nose. Gravel, dirt, rocks dug into his skin, tore up a road rash over his back that should hurt. Dirt filled his ears, exhaust fumes burned in his lungs. He felt the pain there, but he could ignore it. It was like an itch. Headlights shone into his eyes, charging at him like an angry bull, running over him, a tire pressing him to the ground, into gravel, dirt, rock, pushing all air out of his lungs, cracking his ribs, breaking something, he tumbled, spun, the second tire passing over his belly, pushing his back into the dirt, and he wanted to throw up, reflectively pushing his feet against the car, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that was crushing him. It worked, the car passed over him, landing again with a heavy thud before he could scramble to get free to get onto his feet. At least he stopped spinning. Dylan remembered that there was another car. He scrambled out of the way, his barking what probably was the werewolf equivalent of a string of curses. Everything was still spinning. He felt sick.

There was another car. Was. Not anymore. What had they done to it? Dylan didn’t have time to think about that. It wasn’t until then he noticed the howling, the shouts of shock and fear, worry, for him, three voices approaching. No car. Nick! Dylan joined their side, and they took off after the car that had Ryan. Dylan forced himself to ignore the pain in his crushed chest. He had to find Ryan. Kaitlyn caught up with him, a look of shock on her face as he kept running, shaking gravel, dirt, rocks from his fur, clothes, and skin, the taste of iron in his mouth. Pain wasn’t an issue. It was an annoyance. She let out a growl, almost a question. Dylan met her gaze, realizing how shocked she looked. Yellow eyes widened, ears pulled back, growls escaping between her quickened breaths. She did just see him get run over. He nodded determined, and kept running, not letting pain stop him. Not when Ryan wasn’t within view but just around the corner if he just kept running a little bit… Jacob was on their heels, thundering forward, and next to him Nick caught up, luminescent, green eyes keyed on their quarry. He looked like a marathon sprinter, or a greyhound focused on their prey, long slender limbs carrying him forward. He looked little like the monster they saw that night. Eyes trained onto its prey, teeth arranged in a muzzle and not a wide grin, fur in the same colour as his hair running down his back, shoulders and forearms. Dylan preferred this wolf. They caught up with Ryan, where he held onto the roof of the van, letting out a distorted shout that Dylan didn’t understand. But he was okay. Nick leaped up onto the van, the impact making it swerve. He started to violently tear at the steel, digging his claws into the roof of the van. Yup, Abi was in there. No question about it. Ryan backed and jumped off the van, leaving the tearing to Nick. He swiped at the tire instead, trying to make the car slow down. Kaitlyn joined him on the opposite side.

Gunshot. Flash of light from the truck.

Nick let out a pained whine.

Chapter 10: Bullet

Chapter Text

Gunshot. Flash of light from the truck.

Nick let out a pained whine and flinched, pressing himself flat against the roof. The man had a handgun. Fear surged in Dylan’s chest, worrying that it might be silver. Those bullets seemed like they hurt. Nick kept moving, tearing, the man shot again, and Nick had to duck. Dammit he had to do something. Dylan flung himself up onto the van, placing himself between Nick and the gun, staring down the man on the truck, a growl rolling up his throat. The man stared back, clearly surprised that Dylan returned from getting kicked of the truck. The van jolted from a heavy impact, and Dylan recognized Jacob’s growl behind him. Then the sound of steel getting pulled apart as Jacob wedged his claws into one of the tears, using sheer force to pull the steel apart, creating a gap big enough for Nick to fit through. Two more bullets were fired, Dylan felt two stings in his shoulder. He growled, raising his hackles, staring down the man who tried to hurt his pack. Chains rattled from inside the van together with Nick’s growls and whines from either Abi or Emma. It sounded as if he tried to chew his way thru the chains when he wasn’t strong enough to pull them apart. The cars drove onto the road that passed the scrapyard and lead onto the main road. They sped up. Dylan dug his claws into the metal, wind whining in his ears. He could hear Emma growl and Nick struggle with the chains. Nothing from Abi. Wasn’t she in there? He risked a glance over his shoulder, seeing Jacob and Nick pull an unconscious werewolf Abi from the van, his heart sank. Something was wrong with her, he could smell something chemical, heavy, medicinal that stung and numbed his nose. Her ears drooped, long, slender arms hung slack, and she tried to force her eyes open but the sedative dragged her down into the darkness of unconsciousness. Another shot hit Dylan, cutting right thru his lower arm. He snapped his head to glare at the man again, growling, hackles raised. A shadow dove from the woods, teeth first, grabbing the gun and wrestling it from the man with violent shakes of his head. Ryan, a fierce growl rolling up his throat. He tossed the gun into the forest, pushed the man to the floor of the truck, ready to claw at his chest, tear at his throat, kill him. Just as Dylan did.
“No!” Dylan tried to yell, but again only a bark came out. It was however enough, Ryan’s head snapped up, he met his gaze, that deep amber holding far more rage than they should. He shouldn’t be that angry. That wasn’t Ryan. The pleading seemed to reach Ryan, anger slowly fading as he turned his gaze back to the man. He roared, teeth inches from the man’s face, his roar only drowned out by the sound of more gunfire. At that, Ryan dove from the truck and disappeared into the woods. Safe. Jacob leaped from the van, catching Nick who jumped with Abi in his arms. Safe. Where was Emma? A fist punched thru the metal next to his feet and he let out a surprised yelp. He recognized the scent as Emma, as well as the growling. She looked pissed.

Yes. It was time to run. Dylan hadn’t realized how fast they were driving, that the trees blurred as the passed by. The doors to the van flew open as Emma kicked them, one of them flying of its hinges, metal scraping against asphalt, spitting sparks as it bounced away out of sight. She climbed up on top of the van, wind ruffling her hair, teeth bared in a snarl. She met his gaze, nodding at him, the message clear: “Let’s get out of here.” As soon as Emma jumped, Dylan jumped after her, not very keen on staying on this ride alone. The asphalt rushed past underneath them, welcoming their arrival with stinging road rash, tumbling them both upon impact. It was nothing like getting run over. Still sucked though. Emma groaned as she stumbled, having a hard time to stay on her feet. The same medicinal, strong scent wafted of her. It must be some sort of sedative. Dylan offered her a shoulder to lean on, and she happily took it, barely keeping her paws underneath her. They watched the van and remaining truck speed of down the road, the last door of the van swinging on bent hinges. Emma leaned her head back, letting out a loud howl of triumph. Even when it felt ridiculous, Dylan joined in. Behind them, the rest of the pack answered.

Kaitlyn sat on top of a crashed car, looking very proud of herself when they joined the rest of the pack. Abi was slowly coming too, Nick not leaving her side even for a second. Dylan quickly caught the scent of two strangers that left the crashed car, running of into the forest. Maybe that was for the best. At least they caught a car. Dylan chuckled for himself as he realized that this was their first “kill” together as a pack. A nice pick-up truck that smelled of cigarette smoke and old beer cans. Ryan tackled Dylan to the ground, growling and barking. Asking, why did you do that? Are you okay? Worried, sad, wanting to know if he was okay. Ryan had probably seen him get run over. Right. He almost forgot about that. If he’d seen Ryan get run over… He didn’t dare to even think about what he would’ve done. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ryan, hugging him tightly, trying to wordlessly assure him that he was okay. His chest and stomach were still hurting, and the bullet wounds stung but aside from that, he was okay as long as Ryan was okay. Dylan carefully cupped Ryan’s face with his clawed hands, meeting his gaze, ruffling his sideburns with what he hoped could be a smile. How did he manage to be so cute even as a werewolf? Was it weird to think that? It probably was. Jacob ruined the moment by howling at them, not unlike he did that night by the campfire. It seemed so long ago. He had a big grin on his face as well, and a chewed tire by his feet. Kaitlyn called attention with a bark, clearing space on the ground to write.

“Everyone okay?”

Abi shook her head, still not standing up on her own. Emma whined as well, motioning a spinning motion with her hand. Nick held his hand to his shoulder, covering the bullet wound, the bleeding gradually stilling. All eyes turned to Dylan. He wanted to shrink; he had no idea what to do except shrug. Jacob slapped his shoulder, laughing proudly. The pain was still there, stinging, burning a bit, but nothing too bad. Maybe he was getting a bit lightheaded but that could just be from the shock of it all. He leaned onto Ryan. Just a bit lightheaded, that’s all. He stumbled, his vision suddenly blurry. Four paws were too much to keep track of. The ground rushed towards his face.

Someone was talking.

Dylan groaned, opening his eyes to sharp morning sunlight, squinting at a lit room. He was lying down, Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers thru his hair. People were talking downstairs, his feet were hanging off the bed, it smelled like the lodge, smelled like Ryan. He could stay like this for some time. It was quickly becoming his favourite thing, to wake up next to Ryan.
“Hey, handsome.” Ryan said, stroking soft fingers over his forehead. He smelled of soap, water, and old blood. He must’ve recently shifted back.
“Morning.” A bark left Dylan’s lips. He bolted up, the bed creaking by the sudden movement. Dylan stared at the sun shining thru the window, down at his still clawed, fuzzy paws, at Ryan, and back to his hands. He let out a worried whine. The sun was up. He should be back to human! Just like the last time he woke up in the forest covered in his own blood. Ryan had shifted back! Was he stuck like this?! He couldn’t stay like this! What the hell would he tell his mom?! Ryan noticed him spiralling into panic and grabbed his shoulders. His hands felt so small.
“It’s okay. It’s okay!” Ryan said, staying calm, squeezing his shoulders. “We can fix it.” Well he f*cking hoped so! Dylan waited for Ryan to elaborate, noticing that he was still whining. He took a deep, controlled breath, trying to not sound like a broken dog toy.
“It’s because of your injuries, we think. Nick shifted back shortly after Laura removed the bullet and he could heal.” Ryan explained. Dylan exhaled, relieved, allowing himself to fall backwards onto the bed again. This wasn’t forever. The sheets crinkled. He looked up, realizing that the bed was covered in a tarp.
“Right, we put down a tarp just in case you shifted back. Easier to carry out the carnage.” Ryan said, stroking his fingers down his arm. That made sense. How many times did he even get shot? He didn’t remember. His shoulder stung a bit while his chest and stomach were okay. Ryan pulled him from his thoughts by picking up his hand and intertwining their fingers. Dylan’s hand was easily twice the size of Ryan’s. Dylan didn’t dare to move when Ryan took his hand and stroke his thumb over one of his claws. He didn’t realize how monstrous he was, how big a werewolf was. No wonder that man on the truck looked so scared. He almost killed him. Ryan was gently holding the same hand that tore into a man’s chest. He almost killed a man.
“Hey.” Ryan said, noticing him drifting away into thought. He reached over, cupping his hand around Dylan’s cheeks, running his fingers thru his sideburns. “Let’s go and get those bullets removed.” That sounded like a good plan. That and food if there was any left. Ryan scratched behind his ear and Dylan kicked with a foot in response. Everything to make Ryan laugh.

It was so weird to wander through the lodge in daylight as a hulking werewolf. Only two months ago there were campers running thru these halls, laughing, and joking. Throwing paper airplanes from the balcony down towards the floor. It felt like a lifetime ago. Dylan almost hit his head on two doorframes before he just opted to walking on all fours. It was easier anyway. And it was perfect height for Ryan to scratch his head. It was just as nice as a back scratch, maybe even better. Everyone else was back to their human self, but they still smelled like wolves. Like family. There was a faint scent of a stranger that Dylan didn’t recognize. It could very well be Travis. They walked past Nick and Kaitlyn in the hall, where they seemed to be scrubbing blood and… stuff from the floor. Dylan immediately smelled what it was, the results of Nick shifting back.
“Shift outdoors.” Nick advised, sleeves rolled up and sweat on his brow, wringing off a rag into a bucket of bloody water. “We’ve been cleaning this mess for almost an hour.”
“I told you to step outside.” Kaitlyn muttered, not looking up. She pried something from between the floorboards. “I found one of your teeth; do you want it back?” Nick grimaced and she tossed it into the bucket. Gross. Jacob, Emma, and Max were away investigating what was left of the crashed truck. Maybe they could find some clue to the hunters’ identity. Laura and Abi sat in the main hall together with Travis, papers spread onto the table together with notepads and an ancient laptop.
“Even if we find out who they were, is there any legal action we can take against them? Or they against us?” Laura sighed, twisting a pen in her hand. Travis looked as tired as always, sitting with crossed arms and a cup of coffee.
“It’s word against word. And after the recent investigation it’s best for you to not attract anymore attention.” He said, looking up as Dylan and Ryan entered the room, fear briefly passing over his face at the sight of Dylan’s hulking frame. Dylan couldn’t blame him. He stood up and greeted him with a small wave. It was the best he could muster without a voice.
“Mr. Lenivy I presume?” The sheriff asked and Dylan nodded. Laura finished what she was typing and closed the laptop with a sigh.
“I need a nap.” She groaned.
“Well I know that feeling all to well.” Travis added and sipped his coffee.

The bullets hurt more on the way out than on the way it. If it was because Laura secretly wanted him to suffer or because he lacked the protective, primal rage and adrenaline, he could only guess. Hopefully the latter. Laura was working quickly, apologizing quietly under her breath every time Dylan winched in pain. It wasn’t too bad. They sat outdoors, in the midday sunlight, the smell of shed fur and blood lingering in the air. It had a stench like dirty laundry, familiar, sweaty, dirty and that particular scent you smell when you arrive home after a trip. What turned it into a stench was the smell of blood, rot, sweat and something Dylan couldn’t place. Something that invoked disgust when it reached his nose. Dylan was happy to have Ryan there. Both as support and distraction. He also tossed beef jerky at Dylan, challenging him to catch it in his mouth like an overgrown labrador. He welcomed the distraction, even though he missed most of the times.
“Stop moving.” Laura muttered after he flung his head backwards to catch a piece. He whined an apology, flinching as she pulled the last bullet from his shoulder, dropping it into a small bowl. “There. Eight. You’re a juggernaut.” Laura said and pat his shoulder, making him miss another piece of jerky. Ryan chuckled as Dylan flung his head backwards in a futile attempt to catch it.
“Any theories on why we don’t change back until injuries have healed?” Ryan asked as Dylan searched for the piece of tossed jerky. He tossed one to Laura who caught it.
“No idea, honestly. We don’t even know if it’s an infection or a curse. Should I trust medicine or witchcraft?” She bit off a piece. “Maybe I can dig thru the university library.” Dylan silently wondered which section she should start with. Curses or infection. Perhaps both. He frowned and sat up, the piece of jerky between his teeth, grabbing the notepad and pen that Laura brought with her to write his thoughts down.

“What if there’s an infection AND a curse?”

He handed the note to Laura who seemed to read it twice before handing it back, thoughts already spinning in her head.
“What do you mean?” She asked and Ryan scooted closer to read over his shoulder. Well, figuratively. It was so difficult to write with claws, he wanted to bite his lower lip as he scratched down some notes.

“Something happened when Silas was killed. What if the curse influenced an existing infection?”

Laura frowned at his notes, visibly thinking about the theory.
“That’s true. Something happened when Silas was killed. And we still don’t know where the curse came from.”
“Doesn’t Travis know?” Ryan asked and Laura shook her head.
“He only knows that Kaylee found it the night of the fire. Maybe Silas had it?” She shrugged. Dylan started writing again. He’d never gotten the opportunity to discuss this with Laura.

“What if Silas was infected to begin with, and Eliza did some mumbo jumbo curse to take revenge on the Hacketts?”

“Well, she is haunting the quarry.” Laura muttered, her gaze absent as if she was lost in thought.
“The hag of Hackett’s quarry…” Ryan said right on que. “If she wanted revenge why curse her own son?” That was a good question. Dylan’s gaze dropped to the paper as he pondered over the issue. It was annoying not being able to talk.

A drop of blood landed on the paper. Dylan blinked, staring at it, watching as it ran down the page. Another drop landed, making the same sound as a drop of rain. A strange, itching feeling crept over him, as if thousands of bugs crawled up his back and arms. He felt lighter, warmer, the air felt dull in his chest. The taste of blood filled his mouth, the world turned into a muffled red, the sound of rushing water filling his ears. He blinked, vision turning from red to black, he couldn’t breathe, it felt as if he was under water, or submerged in blood, filling his mouth, nose, ears, eyes. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, see, smell, and yet, it was peaceful. Like waking up from a dream, entering your body anew while the lost reality slowly faded into nothing but a memory.

He felt his skin tear.

Chapter 11: Shed

Chapter Text

Dylan shook his head violently, as a dog shaking water from its fur. But instead of water, he shook skin, flesh, fur, and blood from his human form. It was disgusting, wet, warm, the noise of flesh tearing nauseating. He wanted it away from him, instinctually shaking his arms, head, spitting and coughing to clean his airways. There was blood everywhere. His vision slowly returned as he wiped blood from his eyes, dried it from his nose. He was barely aware of the surprised yelps erupting around him. Cold, fresh air entered his lungs as he gasped for air, finally able to gaze upon the carnage his transformation caused. Skin, fur, teeth, all slowly melting into bloody goo around him.
“That was refreshing.” Dylan said. He had never been so happy to see his hands covered in blood. His human hands. Nails, no claws, no fur. Ryan wrapped a towel around his shoulders, blood on his shirt and face. Laura rose from her seat, flicking blood and shed skin from her arms.
“Welcome back.” Ryan said, rubbing Dylan’s shoulders dry, a relieved smile on his lips. A gust swept by, carrying the September air with it, immediately reminding Dylan that he was soaking wet. It was freezing. He wrapped the towel tightly around himself, the warmth of the wolf gone, a shiver replacing it.
“How are you feeling?” Laura asked, crouching by his side, meeting his gaze with a clinical look, a bit of his blood splattered on her cheek. Dylan didn’t know himself. He was cold, exhausted, wet,
“Can I get back to you in like, ten minutes?” He asked, drying blood from his eyes. “After I’ve had a shower and walked over a certain pair of floorboards.”

It was definitely the best shower he’d ever had. Every muscle was sore, his teeth ached and even raising his arm to shampoo his hair was exhausting. A bath would be heavenly right now. There was a risk that he would fall asleep and drown but that sounded like a pleasant way to go. The lack of a bathtub was probably for the best, he thought, leaning his forehead to the wall, hot water running down his back. The warmth was slowly loosening his aching muscles, made him feel human again. He could fall asleep like this, with the feeling of water pattering against his head. It was almost meditative, the noise cancelling out the world. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was at home, not a werewolf, not hunted, not scrubbing blood from his hair, only worrying about what kind of cereal he would eat in the morning. Not about eyes turning yellow and growing fangs and claws. He just turned 19, finally an adult and now part-time murderous monster. The future used to be so bright. College, moving out, finally standing on his own and learning how to be an independent adult. Making mom proud. There was no way he could live in a dorm like this. It wasn’t anything he’d planned on to begin with, to share your room with a total stranger was a terrifying thought. Especially if said roommate turned out to be a violent hom*ophobe. He could live without that conversation. It was exhausting, to live a certain part of your life walking on eggshells. Colleagues, classmates, friends, teammates, strangers on the street if you held your partner’s hand. People coming up to you, in public, starting to ask questions about your sex life. Dylan sighed, running his hands over his face. Now he had two parts of his life he had to hide. Both could get him killed. One quicker than the other. At least he wasn’t alone in this. Rule 6. And he had Ryan. The wolf in the back of his head immediately perked up, a wave of protective anxiety and sexual frustration following it and Dylan could only groan at it. As if being a teenage boy wasn’t annoying enough. Add teenage werewolf boy to the list. He didn’t need this! What he needed was to be able to think clearly when Ryan was around, so he didn’t make an even bigger fool of himself. Or start growling, showing yellow eyes or bark at passing cars. As if it wasn’t scary enough to go out in public to begin with. It always felt as if everyone was looking at him. He knew it was his anxiety that was haunting his brain every time he left the house. He knew that the whole buss didn’t look at him when he stepped on, he knew that his friends didn’t talk smack about him behind his back, he knew they didn’t think he was nothing but a burden. He knew that.

What he felt was the opposite.

Anxiety turned the facts into doubts, magnified the worry about rare occurrences, spread thru his thoughts like poison. It was like preparing for a forest fire every time he lit a candle. It was exhausting. Being a werewolf added a new stack of problems, where he didn’t have any facts. It took a lot of energy to not spiral into worries and exhausting cycles of “what if?”. When he didn’t know, what had he left to trust? One of the louder thoughts repeated the same question in the back of his head; what would Ryan think? How did he even start to explain the aggressive possessiveness he felt? He had the weirdest urge to bite him. Leave a mark that said mine. Something that told others that he was taken. Dylan hated it. He hated those thoughts. He had no right to think that way. He had only known Ryan for little more than three months, they were barely dating! And yet here he was, leaping onto trucks, clawing people bloody and almost ripping out throats. He met his own gaze in the mirror, dark, deep human brown looking back.
“No biting. No growling. Behave.” He whispered to himself, a shine of yellow shimmering in his eyes.

As much as he wanted to faceplant onto a bed until it was time to drive home, Laura called them together for an important discussion (it was a meeting, Dylan hated to call it a meeting, but it was definitely a meeting) regarding their current predicament. She had people take notes, of course she forced people to take notes. Dylan tried his best to not fall asleep leaning against Ryan. He should care much more about this. The important questions on the agenda were: Who are these hunters? How do we manage our condition? How do we stay safe?

They had no answers to the first question. Travis didn’t know nor recognize any of the hunters from Abi’s quick sketches, they found next to nothing to help them in the crashed truck, not even a registration plate. Only empty beer cans, some ammunition, a broken tire filled with dried Jacob drool and the only thing that might help them; a keychain with three keys. The keys didn’t tell them much, but the keychain itself did. It had a bottle opener, labelled with the logo of a place called Hog’s head. They didn’t know if it was a gas station, a bar or some musty motel, and it was their best lead. Depressing. They decided that the best thing would be to not pursue it, to just lay low and pretend that nothing happened. Dylan exchanged one look with Kaitlyn to decide that they would pursue it. Just a little bit. Ryan noticed and rolled his eyes but said nothing. There was no harm in sniffing around a little bit.

The next question would take longer to answer. The old rules stood firm, with an addition. Rule seven, be nice to Travis. He had no obligation to help them or even speak to them, yet he was still around, helping them. He even squirmed in his seat a bit when they thanked him for everything he’d done for them. Their thanks weren’t enough, they never would be. Dylan couldn’t help but to feel guilty for ever thinking that the sheriff was creepy. They needed to thank him properly. Somehow. Give something back. Dylan had some ideas, but he wanted to discuss them with Ryan before bringing them to the group. He didn’t need Jacob rush head over heels into sensitive subjects. Travis was even okay to allow them to borrow the quarry during next full moon. Until then… well… Abi was the one to put it into words.
“It hurts to be alone.” Dylan couldn’t agree more. The days before the moon he spent alone were close to torture. The rest of the pack could only agree.
“And we know being alone is the issue since Max and I were doing fine.” Laura stated, scrolling thru their shared document on her ancient laptop. She frowned at something on the screen, confusion then amusem*nt on her face. “Jacob, why did you write ‘patchy balls’ as a symptom?” Jacob perked up from his half-slumber.
“What?! I didn’t.” He immediately said. Dylan stifled a laugh. He totally forgot that he wrote that in Jacob’s part of the document. Ryan met his gaze knowingly, shaking his head.
“Then why is it on your page?” Laura asked and Jacob shrugged dramatically. Dylan chuckled, no longer able to keep silent, directly revealing who it was that wrote it. Jacob threw a paper ball at him to the sound of laughter.
“You’re ridiculous.” Ryan said, hugging his hand beneath the table.
“While we have your attention, Dylan.” Kaitlyn began and her tone already made him want to hide under the table. “How much did you hurt that dude on the truck? Yeah, I saw that.” f*ck. He hoped nobody would ask him that. He glued his eyes to the table, too embarrassed to meet anyone’s gaze, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. Wondering, judging, surprised that he would hurt anyone at all.
“That was you?” Emma asked, leaning over the table trying to meet his gaze.
“Dude, are you okay?” Jacob added when the silence dragged out. Dylan didn’t know what to say, his words were stuck in his throat, blocking him from answering, choking him. He couldn’t breathe. They were all looking at him could they please stop he didn’t have an answer now, they were all waiting why couldn’t he say anything, there were no words he could find to describe what happened how much time had passed since Kaitlyn asked f*ck they must think he’s such a weirdo why did it have to be so silent…

Ryan hugged his hand, grounding him.
“Take your time.” Ryan said, stepping in like the cliff in the storm. Dylan took a deep breath.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” He muttered. “I… I don’t remember scratching him. I remember that I leaped onto the truck…” It was hard to speak. Saying it made it real. It was much easier to just not talk about it. He groaned, leaning his arms to the table and his head to his arms, just wanting to disappear. People started to move around a bit, some rose from the table, heading to the kitchen, some gathered papers to sort thru new notes, someone headed upstairs. He could probably discern who just by listening, but he didn’t have the energy to. Whatever meeting they had slowly dissolved, Kaitlyn and Laura summarizing whatever notes they’ve taken. Ryan rubbed Dylan’s back, running his hand thru his hair and down his neck.
“You okay?” Ryan asked quietly, his tone gentle. There was no need to hurry.
“I almost killed someone.” Dylan whispered, letting reality hit, putting it into words for the first time. Someone moved to sit down in front of them. Travis. Dylan wanted to groan. Of course the sheriff wanted to keep track of all local aggressive werewolves. At least he could still hear Laura and Kaitlyn around the table, some seats away.
“Mr. Lenivy?” The sheriff said, carrying the scent of coffee with him.
“I have the right to remain silent.” Dylan groaned and he could feel how Ryan held back a chuckle. Travis wasn’t as amused.
“Can you tell me why you attacked that man?” It reminded him too much of the days after that night. “Take your time.” The sheriff added, probably after a glare from Laura. Dylan leaned back in his chair, avoiding meeting his gaze. Eye contact was… scary.
“I thought he was going to shoot Ryan. I got angry.” Dylan said.
“Why did you think he was going to shoot Ryan?”
“Let me see… What was it now again? Oh, right, I think it was because he was aiming a rifle at his face.” He knew that he shouldn’t be snarky, it just felt like such a stupid question. Kaitlyn snorted a laugh at the other end of the table.
“I think that’s an appropriate conclusion to make.” Travis answered, nodding. “What did you do then?” Dylan remembered seeing red. Wanting his teeth to meet the man’s throat, wanting to taste his blood and tear his flesh from his bones, grab his head between his jaws and rip shake rip shake rip shake ripshakeripshake… He grabbed Ryan’s hand and took a deep breath.
“I jumped onto him, pushed him to the bed of the truck…”
“You tried to bite him, didn’t you?” Kaitlyn interrupted, giving him a stern look. “I’m writing your ass up for that.”
“Firstly, I never actually bit anyone! Secondly, I’m making very good progress here and you’re preventing me from reaching the breakthrough I so desperately need to become a better werewolf so thank you for that.”
“So you did try to bite him?” She asked, staring him down, doubt in her eyes. He had to look away.
“… yes.” He admitted to the room, the sound of typing and writing almost deafening in the silence that followed.
“What was your intention when you attacked him?” Travis asked, staying on track, taking one question at the time. It was somehow just what he needed. Some structure in the chaos.
“I wanted to kill him.” Dylan whispered; arms crossed over his chest. It hurt to swallow, a lump slowly forming in the back of his throat. “I realized what was happening, what I was doing, and I stopped, because it scared me.” Scared was an understatement.
“What did he do then?”
“He kicked me, I fell from the truck and got run over by the van.” Dylan said in a deadpan, watching with a spark of enjoyment when Travis’ expression turned into shocked disbelief.
“You got run over?”
“I mean it might’ve been a bear on a quad bike, it was dark.” He heard Laura giggle and Travis glared at her, only making her giggle more.
“The important question is: did you hurt him?” Travis asked.
“I clawed his chest, it was bleeding. And he might’ve banged his head.”
“Even after you got run over?” Dylan nodded to answer the question, and it seemed like the sheriff had all answers he wanted, for now.
“What you did, is under the circ*mstances, what I would consider reasonable force.” Travis said, rising from his seat. “What you did wasn’t illegal. But avoid lunging at armed men while transformed into a nine-foot hulking beast.” That seemed like a reasonable request.

Chapter 12: Road

Chapter Text

They drove from the quarry in the early afternoon. Dylan would’ve loved to stay another night, he dreaded going back home to be without his pack. It was clear they had some weird werewolf relation that they didn’t really understand yet. A bond strong enough for Dylan to take bullets for them, for four of them to chase down three cars under gunfire. Something they couldn’t explain bound them together, it was both sweet and a bit creepy. How long would this last? Dylan nuzzled his face into Ryan’s hair as soon as they started driving, Kaitlyn at the wheel, the voices of what he assumed where his now packmates in the air. He wouldn’t be able to see Ryan for a week. Distance wasn’t the problem, they lived only an hour apart, both of them had their own car. Work, parents and grandparents were the problem. Well, problem sounded a bit harsh. It was just life, it happened. He would manage. It would still suck, he wouldn’t be able to hold him, smell his scent, kiss the top of his head. It already hurt. They needed to work something out. Not just him and Ryan, but the rest of them as well. Abi, Nick, Emma, Jacob, Kaitlyn, Laura, Max… He knew their voices, their scents, how their footsteps sounded walking down the hall. Even their howls. It would be lonely. He gazed over Ryan’s head, out the window, watching the cars pass.

Ryan jumped in his seat, hitting Dylan’s chin with his head. His teeth clacked together painfully, and a curse was half-way out of his mouth when Ryan spoke up.

“That’s the truck from yesterday!” Ryan shouted and pointed out the window. Dylan forgot all about the pain. Seven heads turned as one unit, Emma and Abi almost climbing into the trunk to get a better view. The blue truck with floodlights and wide tires passed them on the lonely road. A cacophony of voices exploded in the minibus, loud opinions yelling leave it, chase it, turn around, speed up.

Kaitlyn made a U-turn.

“We made a decision to leave it!” Jacob shouted from the front seat. “Was I the only one who heard that?!” He wasn’t. Who would’ve thought that Jacob would be the sensible one. The truck came into view again, Dylan leaning forward, his nails digging into the seat. There were claw marks on the truck. His claw marks. The bed probably still smelled of human blood.
“Get them.” Abi said, eyes focused on the truck, a silent anger in her voice that surprised everyone in the bus. Except for Nick, who placed a calm hand on her shoulder. She relaxed under his touch, turning to meet his gaze. He looked… worried.
“They hurt you.” She whispered, anger in her usually calm voice. “I… It makes me…” She shook her head. “Weirdly angry. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed. Dylan recognized it far to well.
“I get it.” He said, eyes on the car in front of them. “Part of me wants to chase after, but it feels like that’s an insanely bad idea, Kaitlyn!” He turned the last words towards Kaitlyn, trying to talk some sense into her. He could almost feel the anger radiating off her. She gripped the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Write down the license plate.” She almost hissed. “I want to know who these bastards are.” Jacob pulled up his phone, taking some pictures of the plate.
“Got it.” He said, looking at Kaitlyn to decide the next step. The minibus fell quiet as she didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze on the truck.
“What are we doing?!” Nick almost hissed, a minute later. “They can be armed! And I’m not bullet proof right now!”
“We actually don’t know that.” Dylan pointed out. It would be pretty cool if they were bullet proof. No way that he would test it. He didn’t even have a gun to begin with.
“Do you volunteer to test that?” Nick sputtered at him, looking at him as if he were insane. Understandable, Ryan was glaring at him as well.
“I’m okay with him testing it out.” Emma said, as a matter of fact. Dylan made a mental note of that. “I would much rather punch those f*ckers, but Nick has a point.”
“Thank you!” Nick said, happy to get his point across. Silence fell again, all of them staring at the truck, knowing that this was stupid, but not wanting to let it go. They had a new quarry and they wanted to finish this hunt. They were all keyed onto the car, eyes flashing when the wolf cut through. This needed to stop. Jacob seemed to realize that too. He carefully laid a hand on Kaitlyn’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, Kait.” He said and they could hear Kaitlyn growl, a deep primal sound that woke the wolf in the back of Dylan’s head. No, he was not partaking in this chase. Even when he wanted to. Jacob squeezed her shoulder. “What will we accomplish by following them?”
“Use your human brain, not your wolf brain.” Dylan added, letting his gaze wander over the reset of the pack, trying to get his point across. Emma groaned and sat down again.
“Why are you so annoying when you’re right?” She sighed, admitting defeat. Kaitlyn slowly lowered the speed, letting the truck disappear in the distance. The air in the minibus got a lot lighter as they relaxed one by one, letting their quarry go, giving up on the chase.
“Can we please acknowledge that we might have a tendency to chase things that we hold a grudge against?” Dylan said, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room. Next to him Ryan sighed in relief.
“I thought it was only me.” He said, sitting back down in his seat as the truck disappeared from view. The inside of the bus started to calm down, Kaitlyn finding a spot to safely turn around, grumbling under her breath.
“No, it’s not just you.” Abi said, embarrassed. “I’ve, never, never, wanted to hurt someone. Until those people hurt you guys.” She looked at Nick and Emma. “I don’t know what came over me.” She shook her head, remembering the violence that invaded her mind.
“Angry werewolf-girl feelings?” Dylan suggested. “Rage? Hulk mode?”
“That’s why you clawed that guy?” She hesitantly asked, knowing that it was a sensitive subject. Dylan turned his gaze to the window again, letting out the biggest sigh he could, trying his best to act like he was in a sad music video.
“Yeah. I too suffer from aggressive werewolf-girl feelings.” He said, looking over at her with the saddest gaze he could muster. He was met with laughter and giggles, including Ryan’s. Jacob started to tease everyone about chasing cars. Especially Emma and Nick since they had a record. That warm fuzzy feeling was back, especially when Ryan leaned his head to his shoulder, allowing Dylan to wrap his arm around him. That was nice. Warm, fuzzy, safe. Dylan closed his eyes, returning to his new favourite place, next to Ryan.

It was both scary, relieving, and sad to come home. Scary, knowing that it would be a while before he saw his pack again. Scary, to know that he would be alone. Sad, to know that when they all hugged him, he wouldn’t see them for a while, smell their scents, hear their voices. Sad that when Ryan hugged him, looked into his eyes, amber glowing somewhere in that dark brown, knowing that it would take a little while before he could see those eyes again. Even if it only was a week, it felt like forever. He wished that the good-bye kiss could be a bit longer, even as Jacob was howling at them. He would shoot that man one day.
“See you on Friday.” Ryan promised him. The saddest part for Dylan was to watch the bus drive off without him. It felt like ripping out a part of his heart, the puzzle piece that had fit so well was pulled away from him. Another scary part was to meet his mother in the doorway, knowing that she definitely saw him kiss a boy he’d told her next to nothing about. She immediately put on a pot of coffee for them, wanting to know everything. He’d told her a thousand times; he wasn’t the kind of “yas queen spill the tea” gossiping gay. No matter how much pride paraphernalia she managed to sneak into the house. He was happy to talk to her, but the gossiping was… urgh. She had her friends for that. Still, he was grateful that she accepted him, loved him, and would fight anyone to the death if they even dared to speak ill of him. That’s just who she is. And he loved her. Which is also why it killed him to know that he never could tell her what he was up to when the moon was full. He could tell her everything. But not this. If people went after him, they could go after her.

The week passed. Dylan counted down the days until he could see Ryan again. In hindsight, it seemed a bit desperate to do, but whatever. He was a bit desperate. There were days when Dylan forgot about his condition, there were days when he found himself restless and wanted to bare his teeth at every problem he came across. To go outside made him anxious, more than usual. Whoever was after them wouldn’t attack him in broad daylight, out in public, but that fact didn’t calm his nerves. Days were spent looking over his shoulder. Everyday life required some changes for his pack. Coloured lenses or sunglasses was a must for all of them. Exercise was another. If they spent a day sitting still it felt as if the body was filled with ants. A small walk was enough to help them relax. Dylan found himself to take a daily walk around the block, sometimes Mitzi followed him with excited meows. As far as he was concerned, the cat was part of his pack. During each walk, he found himself dragging his nails along the same objects. The railing of his porch, a tree by the first intersection, along a wavy fence. Another habit he picked up was to always carry some sort of snack with him, as well as chewing gum. It stopped him from chewing at things when he got restless, helped him spare a few pencils.

Friday came.

And left.

The world was cruel enough to let Ryan’s grandmother catch the flu, keeping Ryan busy all weekend. He assured that his grandmother would be okay. It sucked, but there was little to do about it. He did meet up with Kaitlyn and Jacob, the three of them aimlessly walking through the local mall, grabbing a bite to eat, and finding a spot in the park to hang out on. It helped to relieve a bit of the anxiety that started to wind up in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to completely relax him. Even worse, his mother started to notice that something was weird. She had yet to call him out on it, but he could tell that she knew. It wasn’t as if he could blame her. He slept less, always double checked every mirror he passed, and dogs seemed to bark at him for no reason. And he spent all his time on his phone or computer, talking with his pack. He and Kaitlyn spent some time digging into the Hog’s Head mystery. They did find a couple of bars in the area with the same name and forwarded the addresses to Travis. When Jacob sent him the picture of the license-plate they neglected to mention how they’d followed and chased the car like a pack of excited huskies in a minibus. Partly because it was embarrassing, partly because he didn’t need to know that. Right?

When Friday approached again, he knew exactly how dogs who missed their owner felt. He wasn’t nervous at all. Not at all. He managed to convince his mother to stay out of the house for the evening, he only had to promise to not tear the house apart. The wolf in the back of his head whined restlessly, making him prance up and down the hall, chewing through a package of gum in an hour. Mitzi followed him around, yowling at his anxiousness.
“It’s okay girl. It’s just a pretty boy that’s coming over and you will hate him so please don’t claw his eyes out.” He picked up the cat who protested with a small ‘mrow’. He kept prancing, carrying Mitzi down the hall.
“Yes, I am very calm and not nervous thanks for asking.” Mitzi clawed to get free and climbed up on his shoulders. A car pulled up outside and he almost ran to the door, Mitzi digging her claws into his shirt. The bell rang before he reached the door, the wolf at the front of his mind, scratching at the walls of his psyche.
“Welcome inside my lair.” Dylan greeted as soon as he saw Ryan, who stepped inside, immediately hugging him. It caught Dylan off guard, but he didn’t mind the slightest, as he returned the hug. Home, stability, calm, love, his…

Dylan’s shoulder hissed.

Mitzi let out a loud yowl, swatting her paw at Ryan before she shot from Dylan’s shoulders, her claws scratching his skin as she bolted away to find somewhere to skulk for the evening. Ryan jumped, obviously not expecting Dylan to have a cat on his shoulder.
“Jesus! That scared the living daylight out of me!” He said, exhaling to recover from the fright. “Why are you wearing a cat?”
“She likes to ride on my shoulders.” Dylan looked over his shoulder, watching as Mitzi disappeared in under the couch. “Sorry bout that. She doesn’t like… well…”
“Werewolves?” Ryan suggested, taking of his coat, and stepping inside. “You said something about her hating you before.”
“She warms up to you, just need time and a lot of treats.” Dylan said, not knowing if he should apologize or curse her out or run to see if she was okay or see if Ryan was okay… “Did she scratch you?”
“Not more than you have.” Ryan slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Got anywhere I can put this?” He was wearing a new t-shirt with some light gothic print that looked like one of those death metal logos that was impossible to read. Not that Dylan even tried to read it, he was too distracted to even be able to read. Damn he looked good. Always so dreamy, brooding, that hidden amber glinting in his eyes, the wolf peeking around the corner. Perfection wasn’t supposed to exist, yet he currently observed it.
“You’re buffering.” The dreamy broodiness said, a smile already on his lips. Dylan tried to connect to reality and failed miserably. He just wanted to hug him again. He took a step forward, towards the stairs, falling into Ryan’s arms. Ryan let out a chuckle and a grunt as he braced to support his weight.
“Dylan-Dylan is restarting.” Dylan muttered into the hook of his neck, searching for a good place to rest his head, to breathe in his scent. To start placing small kisses.
“I’ve been here for less than a minute.” Ryan chuckled, leaning his head as an invitation, stroking his hands up his back, running his fingers through his hair. Dylan had no excuse he could express with words without sounding ridiculous, so instead he just let out a small growl. Ryan knew what he meant, as he tightened the hug.
“I missed you too.”

Chapter 13: Tooth

Chapter Text

They ended up on the couch together, a crappy horror movie playing in the background. Not that Dylan was watching anyway, he was far too busy watching how the shadows played on Ryan’s face, mimicking the dunes of a desert in the night. Noticing how the light reflected in his eyes, sometimes catching that hidden amber he’d grown to love. Mine. It was nice until those thoughts crept forward. He mentally kicked himself for it. It was too much wolf for him to like it. Deep, primal, brutal. Only caring about its own, living in the moment, no regards for anything human. It wasn’t an entity per say, Dylan only called it “the wolf” because he had nothing else. Anxiety had a name, anger had a name, jealousy had a name. It was there, influenced his life, tugged on his thoughts, but never taking over.

Unless it was a full moon and Ryan was in danger. Dylan bit his lips and rubbed his eyes with a sigh, feeling how they turned yellow in the dim light. He took out his coloured lenses before Ryan arrived. It was still difficult to control how his eyes changed colour, but he started to get a hang of it. They did it by themselves sometimes, if he got angry, squinted too hard or was in darkness. Or around Ryan, who loved his eyes anyway. And his growling. Holding it back was exhausting, like having to manually control your breathing. Maybe it one day would become a habit. For now, he could let it go. Drop the mental load he was carrying, and Ryan didn’t care how emotionally messy he was. It felt like he could relax for the first time in two weeks, cuddling up next to Ryan, nibbling at anything that got too close to his face. Ryan’s fingers, popcorn… that was pretty much it. He really shouldn’t listen to that instinct. He knew very well that biting anything other than another werewolf would be, very, very bad. Bite. Mine. Mine. He supressed a groan.
“I can see you thinking.” Ryan accused, popping a popcorn into his mouth. He didn’t push the matter, just let Dylan know that it was okay to lift the subject if he wished to.
“Can I do something about it?” f*ck he must look like he’s thinking. How the hell do he even talk about something like that? Dylan sighed and sat up properly, already feeling a blush on his cheeks.
“It’s a wolf thing. And by that, I mean uncomfortable, weird, embarrassing, and other synonyms that I can’t think of right now.” Ryan gave him his undivided attention, ever the cliff in the storm. The beautiful thing with cliffs is that what you see on the surface is only part of it. The majority of the cliff is hidden under water, they go all the way to the deepest, darkest bottom. And some even below that. They stay the same, all the way down. Even when you’re surrounded by darkness and coldness, the cliff remains, a constant in your existence. It doesn’t need to pull you up. It trusts you to be able to find the handholds that you need by yourself. If you don’t have the energy to climb today, it will still be here by tomorrow. And the day after that. Dylan so desperately wanted to see the sky again.
“I’m scared to say anything about it.” He whispered. Ryan grabbed his hand, just holding it.
“What would you do if I had the same problem, and I told you about it?” Well… as much as he wanted to joke, this wasn’t the time for blasé-Dylan.
“I wouldn’t judge you for it. I’d try to help you fix it; if you wanted me to.” He said, feeling how Ryan hugged his hand.
“Then please trust me to do the same.” Ryan said, calmly, sincerely. Dylan smiled, that warm, safe, fuzzy feeling back again. That was a clever trick to figure out what kind of reaction he was hoping for.
“Should I start trauma dumping now?” He joked, trying to slip away from saying anything at all. To ease the tension he could taste in the air.
“Dylan…”
“Sorry.” Well, here goes nothing. He took a deep breath. “I’ve got this weird, wolf urge to bite you. My head always goes back to thinking these possessive, scary things. Mine, protect, things like that.” He swallowed, not daring to meet Ryan’s gaze. “I’m terrified of losing control over it. Like Nick did.” A shadow of an emotion fell over Ryan’s face, almost too quickly for Dylan to notice it. Was it… relief? Shock? It was something that cracked into a smile. What was so funny? Why was he silent?
“It’s the same for me.” He finally said. “And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t think you’re weird for it. We explode into wolf monsters once a month. It is already weird.” The relief made Dylan want to melt into a puddle only supported by Ryan.
“Thank you.” He whispered, suddenly exhausted from carrying the weight upon his shoulders. He could let it go now. Ryan had no problem with it, it was something they carried together. Ryan kissed his cheek and Dylan felt his face blush. Everything just became so warm.
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what you do for…” Friends? Boyfriends? He left the sentence unfinished, looking to Dylan to finish it. Why thank you for that responsibility.
“Your what exactly?” He said instead, this time meeting Ryan’s gaze. “Because I heard that the position for boyfriend was open, and I think I hold all the qualifications for the job. In fact, I’ve dreamt of becoming on since I was little, and I think this would be a great opportunity for my career.” Ryan chuckled.
“And what does Dylan-Dylan think?” He asked, watching as a blush spread over Dylan’s cheeks, then a smile on his lips.
“He’d love to be your boyfriend.” Dylan answered, putting away the blasé mask.
“Consider yourself hired.” As soon as Ryan said those words, Dylan pulled him into a hug, then a small kiss. He had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend. Holy sh*t! He couldn’t stop grinning, couldn’t stop hugging Ryan. Mine! The wolf barked, overjoyed as well.

“Do you feel this, need to bite stuff?” Dylan dared to ask after a couple of quiet minutes, cuddling close and pretending to watch the movie and not each other.
“Definitely. I don’t think it’s as strong as others’, or yours.”
“Wait. The others’? I thought it was only me.” The silence that fell was hollow, Ryan trying to find his words.
“Not exactly, no.” Was what he settled for. That was far too cryptic for Dylan to be happy with it.
“Dude, you cannot drop something like that without elaborating.” He said, making Ryan ponder over a fitting answer, tilting his head, a far look in his eyes.
“I saw bitemarks on others in the pack.” He settled for. Oh. Maybe it was a werewolf thing.
“Sounds like we have some catching up to do.” Dylan didn’t mean to sound so suggestive, or maybe he did. The words rolled of his tongue so easily, almost purring, a small growl in the back of his throat. Damn was that even his voice? Ryan cupped his face with a hand, thumb stroking his cheek, slowly leaning forward.
“Don’t write a check your ass can’t cash.” He whispered, a mischievous smile on his lips. Dylan hadn’t noticed how heavy his breathing had gotten, how hot his blood was pumping through his veins, carrying the infection with it, almost burning. It was intoxicating, made him feel powerful, strong, alive.
“I really want to kiss you.” He breathed, feeling something in his jaw almost shiver as he leaned closer to Ryan’s slightly parted lips. Mine.
“Then do that.”

He did, clinging to his cliff like a drowning man, kissing him almost feverishly, cupping his beautiful face with his hands and drinking him in. The taste of his breath, the shape of his lips, his scent, gods above, that intoxicating scent that wrapped him in a blanket of soft, safe, home. Ryan’s fingers ran though his hair, nails scratching his scalp, hand cupping his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Whatever void Dylan felt the last days was finally filled, Ryan’s softness, scent, breath, his very being perfectly filling the emptiness in his chest. Especially when he parted his lips slightly, inviting, deepening the kiss, tongues meeting, breath mixing. Dylan could only hear their breathing and his heartbeat; the movie they were supposed to watch was long forgotten. As he ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, leaning his head and pushing ever so slightly, he was certain that the house could be on fire, and he wouldn’t notice it. It wasn’t important. Nothing except Ryan was, and he didn’t want to hear something that wasn’t Ryan’s gasps or small growls, taste something that wasn’t his lips, breath, or skin, feel something that wasn’t the curve of his back, the softness of his hair or the strength of his arms. To experience something in that moment that wasn’t this pillar of his existence seemed sacrilegious. Mine. Dylan backed to catch his breath, to meet Ryan’s gaze, his hands clawing at Ryan’s back. Beautiful, heavy-lidded eyes looked back, amber burning in the dark. It was a wordless question answered with a gaze, checking in, Dylan shifting his seat on the couch to properly invite Ryan into his arms. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, the couch a bit too narrow, shoulders and arms in the way. Dylan just wanted to pull him closer, closer, closer. Why was that so hard? Ryan let out a something akin to a yelp when Dylan tightened their hug again. The sound struck through Dylan’s hazy thoughts like an ice pick.
“I’m falling off the couch.” Ryan chuckled, shifting in his seat, trying to find a better place to sit. Dylan didn’t know what to answer to that except with a matching chuckle. He needed some minutes to gather his thoughts, or more like hunt them down and hog-tie them since they never stayed in his head where he needed them. He had just made somewhat sense of the situation, when Ryan put a hand on his chest, pinning him to the couch with surprising strength, and climbing on top, suddenly looking down at Dylan with a smug smile, straddling his lap.

If you in that moment asked Dylan what his name was, he wouldn’t be able to remember. His brain didn’t only shut down, it shut down, jumped out the window and did a flip on the way down. Ryan cupped his face in his hands, that smug smile on his beautiful lips. The same lips that kissed his gently, softly, barely giving Dylan time to answer before leaning back again, looking down at him almost victoriously. Yours.
“Woah.” Dylan gasped, not capable coherent speech and yet he described his feelings perfectly, taken aback and swept away. Ryan chuckled, not able to hide his beaming smile.
“You…” He cupped Dylan’s face with his hands. “… are absolutely adorable.” Dylan wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulling him down into another kiss, a new growl in his throat, his heart racing in his chest, blood hot in his veins. He felt so alive. And that scent… he was silently wondering if Ryan’s skin tasted as good as it smelled, if it tasted as good as his lips. Trying something new was both terrifying and exciting, Dylan felt himself stumble forward, carefully testing the steps to see if they held. But sometimes the steps are far apart, and you have no idea if they will hold when you take the leap, or if they will shatter under your feet and leave you falling into the abyss. That’s why you never climb alone, if he made a mistake, Ryan would catch him before he could fall. With a steadying breath, he took the leap, letting his lips trace Ryan’s jawline. Reaching his neck, he placed a small kiss on that beautiful, dark skin, slowly wandering from neck to shoulder, from small pecks to heavy, open-mouthed kisses. Mine. The taste of his skin lured out those thoughts again. Why was it so hard to be human? The way Ryan let his hands wander down his sides to rest on his hips encouraged him enough to let his teeth meet skin. It was only a small nibble, but damn. He was back on the burning ocean, flames licking his skin, setting his heart ablaze. Flames traveling out to his fingertips, clawing at Ryan’s shirt. Dylan suddenly found himself wishing for claws. Sharper teeth. Strength to lift Ryan and carry him away. Maybe he could…
“Do you think I’m strong enough to carry you?” Dylan growled, not able to control his voice. Ryan’s grip immediately turned into vices around him. It felt like being hugged by an octopus, or a monstrous vine. Damn he was strong.
“Do not try that!” Ryan hissed. There was a hint of panic in his voice, spreading a mischievous grin on Dylan’s lips.
“You don’t think I’m strong enough?” He teased between kisses and nibbles. “I think I can…” Ryan captured his lips, cutting him off. It was all growls, teeth and lips, small chuckles escaping, hands stroking down backs and clawing their way upwards. Exploring, discovering, memorizing each other’s shapes, listening to heartbeats, leaving bite marks. The last one quickly becoming a favourite, especially when Dylan found out how ticklish Ryan was right under his ear, and especially if you exhaled or even better growled into his ear. It was the only time he’d actually managed to get Ryan to shriek and laugh.

The back of the couch meowed loudly, Mitzi expressing her displeasure over the two werewolves on her couch.
“Your cat sounds… unhappy.” Ryan commented as Dylan pulled up his feet on the couch, getting his ankles out of cat range.
“It’s our que to move upstairs.” Best involuntarily wing-woman ever.

Dylan ran up the stairs on all fours, Ryan following with a chuckle over his silliness. It was something Dylan had done since long before he got bitten. It was just easier now, although it sounded like he was tearing the house down. They didn’t turn on any lights, the streetlights shining through the windows turning out to be enough. And they reflected beautifully in Ryan’s eyes, it was a pity that he needed to pull down the curtain. It didn’t matter much; he still saw good enough in the dark. Good enough to realize that a very attractive Ryan was walking up to him, shirtless, throwing his shirt to land onto his bag. Dylan gasped for the second time that night as he met Ryan half-way, so much hot skin suddenly under his hands and dammit, he wanted to memorize every curve, every line he felt under his fingers and nails. Ryan sneaked his hands under his shirt, up his sides, pulling his shirt with him. Dylan pulled it off and chucked it into the dirty laundry corner. It was so in the way, just another barrier. Why hadn’t they done this sooner? Everything felt closer. He could feel the heat radiating of Ryan’s skin, run his hand down his bare chest. Admire and add to those small indentations his teeth had made under the night. Mine. His marks, on his Ryan. He still wondered if he would be able to pick Ryan up. If he had his eyes and his growls, maybe he had the strength too?
“What are you plotting?” Ryan asked, suspicious. Dylan’s plan could go two ways, one extremely hot and two a joke he probably would never hear the end of. Worth the risk. He wrapped his arms around Ryan, who immediately realized what he was trying to do and held on for dear life. It wasn’t as if Ryan weighed nothing, it was just that the primal fire helped his muscles to ignore whatever resistance they were facing, like when he picked Ryan up and pinned him to the wall. The fire fluttered up into his chest, heart racing, teeth aching to bite.
“Just demonstrating that raw, bestial power that you seem to like so much.” Dylan said, feeling very proud of himself when it was Ryan’s turn to be speechless. Was it too much? Doubt started to manifest its ugly tentacles in Dylan’s mind but were quickly burnt down when Ryan kissed him, wrapping arms and legs around him to get closer and holy sh*t that was hot. Dylan couldn’t believe that worked. He was tossing around another person. He was strong. Some ancient caveman part of his brain was very proud of him. He found his lips on Ryan’s neck again, his pulse thrumming under his kisses, then nibbles. Taste of salt, a hint of iron, home, safety. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. And so he did.

The taste of blood filled his mouth, metallic, living fire. He heard Ryan gasp, clenching his hand with a fist of Dylan’s hair. Ouch. It was a good pain. Something along the lines of a curse left his lips, what it was, Dylan didn’t hear. He tasted blood, someone else’s blood. It burned his tongue, unappetizing as battery acid. He was ready for the taste to release some hidden hunger, making him want to bite down harder and tear and rip… It was nothing like the rage he felt during the moon. It was more like a release for some of the anxiety he was carrying. It didn’t taste bad, it was still the most intense part of Ryan he’d ever experienced. But it wasn’t food. It was his. He leaned back, looking at the mark he left, the crescent shape of his teeth slowly darkening on Ryan’s skin. Mine.

And now everyone could see that. The human side of him was mortified. The werewolf side… was howling in happiness.

Dylan hoped he would be able to keep it happy.

Chapter 14: Home

Chapter Text

It was so nice to fall asleep next to Ryan, even better to wake up next to him, the sun already filtering in through the curtains. It was so good to just spend time together, relaxing, cuddling up under the covers, not a care in the world. No full moon could chase them out of bed this time. Check mate, moon! It might be a power of astronomical proportions but even those had to obey the laws of physics. Ryan, not surprisingly, became Dylan’s favourite pillow and blanket. The pillow reluctantly.
“You’re heavy!” Ryan grunted but made no motion to move.
“That’s only your perceived version of reality.” Dylan muttered, very content with draping himself over Ryan’s torso, burying his head in the hook of his neck, silently admiring the bite marks.
“In my perceived reality you’re very heavy.” Ryan chuckled, ruffling his hair.
“It’s purely the weight of my love for you.”
“Your love is heavy.” Ryan continued. Dylan groaned and did his best to mimic a wild vine and cling onto Ryan. He was so soft, warm, properly marked, the perfect pillow.
“I don’t want to mooovvvveeee…” Dylan whined, meeting Ryan’s gaze with the strongest puppy eyes he could muster. He triumphed in silence when Ryan melted.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He muttered and kept running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. Dylan placed a small kiss on his neck as thanks, right on his favourite mark. It was a spot he would return to. The spot where Ryan’s scent seemed to originate from. He let out a content sigh, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, tracing lines on his skin with a finger. To just lie and marvel at this beauty that was Ryan. His boyfriend. Another big smile spread on his lips, happiness fluttering through his chest. It felt like sparkling water, almost tickling. Not like the fire last night, that was almost scorching. This was… playful, light, tickling.
“What are you laughing at?” Ryan questioned, he too smiling when Dylan started to chuckle.
“I have a boyfriend.” Dylan chuckled. “And he’s really cute.”
“Dork.” Ryan said lovingly, kissing his forehead with soft lips. “Silly wolf-boy.”
“I’m your silly wolf-boy.” Dylan said, smiling again.
“And I’m yours.” Ryan answered with a smile. His. His soft, warm, sweet-smelling boyfriend, who just happened to be a werewolf. A 7ft tall beast that came out in a rain of blood every full-moon, claws like knives and jaws powerful enough to break bone. A 7tf tall beast with beautiful black fur and gorgeous amber eyes. Some sort of cryptic, mythological being, just like himself. Right now, it was almost better than being human. It allowed Dylan to experience reality more precisely. To experience everything about Ryan better. It was… okay. He even liked it. It wasn’t as scary anymore. It just was.

They ate breakfast, or more accurately brunch, in front of the tv, rolling some old YouTube compilation of people falling of boats, jet skis and other water-related vehicles.
“Do you think bigfoot will hit us up? Say hello to his new mythological neighbours?” Dylan jokingly said as he bit into the left-over pizza from yesterday. Left-over pizza was always the best pizza.
“I doubt it.” Ryan smiled and flinched as a guy slipped of the roof of a boat only to land on a railing, balls first. Ouch.
“Wonder if there’s anything else out there.” Dylan said, genuinely curious. “Maybe more people like us?” It wasn’t impossible, Silas had to come from somewhere. The myths of werewolves had been around far longer than him.
“Well, there are myths… Dating back to ancient Greek times, and in Europe during the…” Ryan thought for a bit. “… 1600^th or whatever, when it was popular to hunt witches, they also hunted werewolves.” It wasn’t too strange that Ryan knew that, there was probably a Bizarre yet Bonafide episode, or several episodes dedicated to the subject. Or maybe it was the result of a Wikipedia deep-dive. When you start to look up something that actually interested you, for example “are cat bites dangerous to wolves” and you end up watching a tutorial on how to talk to giraffes at 4am. Not that Dylan had any personal experience with that. Not at all.
“Damn.” Dylan muttered. “Do you think there are different subspecies of werewolves? Or is it just us?”
“We still don’t know if it’s a curse or infection. Or both.”
“Well, the caravan that the Vorez were travelling with should’ve noticed a rabid werewolf every full moon. Maybe Silas was like us before the fire? And his crazy ass mother cast some curse or whatever when she died?” Dylan shrugged. “Maybe it started out as an infection, and she cast a curse as vengeance for stealing her son?” Ryan sat up straighter, looking at if he had something important to say.
“Why aren’t you with Laura at the library?” He asked seriously. “You have a good head, why don’t you use it? Might give us some needed insight.” He tapped Dylan’s forehead.
“You suggest I start to give some head to further the cause? I can do that.” Dylan answered with a wink. Ryan groaned at him and rolled his eyes.
“You know what I mean.” He knew very well. There wasn’t anything stopping him, and it would be interesting if not anything else. At least he could ask Laura if she needed help with digging through some dusty old university books. University… He had his eyes set on a college out of state, a three-year program about advanced physics, two years onto that about basic quantum, an additional two years for research and specialization. If he passed the first years, and if he liked it maybe he could keep researching, if he got any funding for it. There was always that issue, nobody funded research anymore.
“Do you think there are people who research our condition?” Dylan mused out loud. “With big labs, white coats, hazmat suits and sh*t.”
“You mean like the men in black?”
“Something like that.” A door opened and closed on the upper floor. Dylan immediately recognized his mother’s footfall. She had probably been awake for a while, waiting to get up to give them some more time alone. It was 12am after all, they’ve already had plenty of time alone.
“Sounds like your mother is alive after all.” Ryan muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “I was starting to worry.” That was sweet. And completely unnecessary.
“Don’t worry about mom. Worry about yourself.” Dylan muttered into his glass of milk, taking a sip as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Mom would walk through the living room to the kitchen even though she could walk through the hall. Dylan slowly sank down into the couch as she entered the room.
“Good morning boys!” She said, far too cheerful.
“Ráno mama.”
“Good morning, Mrs Lenivy.” Ryan greeted. Don’t start with your gossip today, please just…
“You must be Ryan, nice to meet you.” She greeted them with a small wave. Dylan didn’t at all anticipate this and made sure that Ryan sat so she wouldn’t be able to go and shake his hand or get a too close look at his neck without climbing over Dylan first. Nope, no planning done at all, just pure coincidence. Still his mother squinted at them both before locking eyes with Dylan.
“You don’t need to eat each other, there’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.” She said, knowingly. Dylan wanted to die on the spot, feeling his face turn bright red, part of his soul leaving his body. Even the wolf part shrunk away. Was there silver nearby? Someone please stab his heart with a fork or whatnot.
“Mama…” Dylan groaned and buried his face in his hands, his mother retreating to the kitchen probably very proud of herself.
“I’m just grabbing a quick bite before heading to the store! Don’t mind me!” To his surprise, he heard Ryan chuckle quietly.
“She’s cool.” He said with a small smile. Oh, no. They had something to bond over, embarrassing him. f*ck.
“And can you boys please open a window, it smells like wet dog in here.” They exchanged a worried look as they heard the front door close.
“Window?” Ryan suggested.
“Windows.” Dylan jumped up from the couch.

It was again difficult to watch Ryan leave, but at least he knew what to expect this time. It hurt for a day or two, sleep was impossible for the first night, the second night was easier. Exhaustion tended to help you fall asleep. What it didn’t do was keeping him asleep. Perhaps that was for the best. There was a noise in the night. A small clonk, something that wasn’t Mitzie jumping, a pipe clanging or the house settling. It woke Dylan up. It wasn’t the kind of noise that belonged to the house. To his house. HIS. Usually, he’d groan and roll over to fall asleep again. Now he sat right up, listening carefully, wide awake. What had woken him up? Something in his bones told him to move, to investigate. Mitzi did too, she was already at his door, staring at him, as if she was wondering what was taking him so long. Judging as always. Another sound, something metallic snapping, breaking. The patio door opening. In HIS house. Rage was usually a fire, this one, was scorching, smouldering, white-hot metal. Focused, silent, determined to find out what was making strange noises in HIS home. Mitzi disappeared down the stairs, her small paws barely making a sound. Scouting ahead. Good girl. Dylan took a deep breath, listening, smelling, preparing, slowly sneaking down the hall. The red-hot focus was there, his blood heating up, heart beating faster, veins on fire. The wolf sensed an intruder, something unknown, something uninvited. And it wanted to sink its teeth into it. He stalked down the stairs, skipping a creaking step, listening intently, bare feet onto carpet.
“Meow.” The sound of someone gasping almost echoed through the dark, startled by Mitzi’s meow. Dylan smiled for himself. They were in the living room, entering from the patio door. Good girl.
“It’s just a cat Jonah.” A raspy, female voice whispered, as if she’d been chain smoking cigarettes just before entering. “We’re looking for the boy, not new pets.”

Dylan’s heart turned to ice; chills ran down his spine. What. The. Hell?! It couldn’t be… the same people that tried to kidnap them? That shot him? How did they find him? Dylan sneaked down the hall, towards the living room from which the voices came. He could hear two pair of footsteps. He was alone. f*ck. He needed his pack. He needed Ryan, Kaitlyn, Jacob, Emma, Nick, Abi, Laura, Max… The hollowness inside his chest grew deeper.
“Sch.” A second voice shushed. “It’s not a boy, not anymore.” The voice that belonged to Jonah said. Dylan bared his teeth at nothing, the overwhelming urge to bite washing over him. He flexed his claw… hands, feeling knuckles pop. His hands hurt, felt almost swollen. Warm. Powerful. His teeth hurt. What was his plan here? Scare them away? Hunt. No, that was stupid. Although… He had a target. His blood was on fire, his breaths deeper than normal, something in his chest, wanting out, scratching, craving violence. It wasn’t strong enough to break through. Not on its own. Good, not on its own. They crept closer, his heart beating in his ears, their scent, so very human scent, filling his lungs, his stomach rumbling. His jaws made a strange noise and he had to crack his neck to relieve some tension. It was a week until the moon. Nothing could happen now anyway. The wolf in his chest clawed its walls bloody, it hurt to breathe. He wanted to growl, to make these people go away. Dylan took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, clenching his fists, ready for whatever. His mouth was already filled with the taste of iron.

A man rounded the corner, suddenly standing face to face with Dylan’s yellow eyes and fanged snarl. He was so close Dylan could smell his breath. A man in his 40’s, dark eyes, widened in fear, salt and pepper beard. He knew him. It was the hunter. YOU.
“Get out.” Dylan growled, not recognizing his own voice. The man’s expression turned from determination to shock and panic when he quickly realized that he wasn’t the hunter. He was the hunted. Silence was no more. Dylan grabbed the man’s shirt with both hands, not caring how the man flinched when his claws cut through the fabric, and he flung him around the corner, into the woman he intruded with, they both colliding with shocked gasps and curses. The sheer momentum sent them both to the floor, the woman barely avoiding hitting her head on the sofa table. Sound of metal hitting hardwood floor, scraping, spinning, reflecting a flash of light before getting picked up by the strange woman. The hunters scrambled to their feet, shock turning into fear, turning into… anger, hate? Dylan had time to jump them, time to crack their necks like sticks. Claw their faces out. But he didn’t want to hurt them. He only wanted them out. They had gone in through the patio door, leaving it wide open. Good. It was much easier to throw them out. Running footsteps drew his attention. Jonah ran at him, a flash of metal in his hand, swinging towards Dylan’s chest. Dylan raised his arm just to feel cold steel cut through his skin and he screamed in pain as he felt his skin split open, white-hot pain, something he couldn’t ignore shot up his arm. He wasn’t knife-proof. Why didn’t he even consider that these people would be armed?! He should’ve just called the police! Stupid! Use human-brain not wolf-brain! The man swung again, Dylan stepping back, avoiding the painful blade, but not the man’s fist that connected with his temple. The world thundered, spun, his head felt like it would explode. There was a cracking noise, but not from him. The man, Jonah, cursed loudly as his finger broke. Well, that was one way Dylan could use his head. He lunged forward, grabbing Jonah’s hand that held the knife, ignoring how something broke under his grip. The only important thing was that the hand dropped the knife when he twisted the wrist, something snapping, Jonah screaming in pain, throwing punches to his ribs. Annoying. Dylan quickly kicked the knife, sending it under the couch, out of reach. A lithe but strong arm wrapped itself around Dylan’s neck, tugging down, throwing his balance off. Cutting his air off. Making his chest ache, his vision blur. He dug his bloody nails into the arm, feeling how some of them broke against the skin, how blood made his grip slippery.
“f*cker broke my hand!” Jonah grunted, trying to keep his voice down. The smell of human blood reached Dylan, the arm belonging to the strange woman that reeked of cigarettes within reach of his teeth. He couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt, his feet slipped against the hardwood floor, a strangled growl from his throat, his nails of the woman’s skin. His teeth ached to bite, to erase this puny limb of meat and bone that cut of his airflow. Bite. No, he couldn’t. It was against the first rule. A kick hit his knee, and something broke. If Dylan could scream, he would’ve, as his leg buckled, his foot slipped and he got dragged through his living room, out the door, his heels scraping against the stone tiles of the patio. He could see the stars of the night sky. Fading, turning red. His chest was starved of oxygen, the wolf fighting to get out. BITE.
“There, there, there… Go to sleep. Good boy.” The woman rasped in his ear, her breath foul. Dylan finally found purchase with his feet, gasped for breath, trying to overpower her. Sharp, cold, pain shot through his side, and he howled, his voice torn, exhaling that precious breath he managed to take. The sound of chains rattling. Footsteps. The thing in his side twisted. It felt like it was tearing him apart. Dylan could vaguely discern more people, dressed in rough, dark clothing, smelling like a dump. If he had air in his lungs, he would be able to tell how many. They talked but all Dylan could hear was the blood in his ears, they moved around but all he could see were the fading stars, all he could feel was the agony in his lungs, how it felt like his ribs cracked.

A woman was screaming.

Someone grabbed his hair, tugging his head down from the fading stars to a world of blurry red chaos. There were chains around his feet, the arm around his neck accompanied by another chain that slipped past his claws and tightened, crushing his windpipe.

A woman was standing in the doorway.

He needed the wolf. The rage, the pain, the bones breaking and twisting, tearing into something that could save him from this. He spent the last months pushing it back and now when he needed it more than ever it wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t strong enough. He was alone. At least he didn’t bring anyone else down with him. His pack was safe. He was expendable. Not smart like Laura, not quick like Kaitlyn, not strong like Jacob… Not as absolutely wonderful as Ryan. They would be fine without him. The chain around his neck pulled him towards something, dragging him over the grass.

The woman in the doorway got pushed inside by a man. She was screaming his name.
Mom.

Protect.

The rage ignited. The sky turned red before his eyes.

His ribs cracked, broke and the wolf escaped from the cage of bone. His skull split open, human hair falling off with his scalp, leaving space for rough fur, teeth forced his jaws apart, skin tore from his arms, flesh bones tearing breaking twisting transforming and pain had never felt so good. The disgusting sound of shed skin, blood and flesh falling to the grass, splashing onto the patio tiles, filled the backyard, mixed with shouts of surprise. The wolf howled.

DIE

Chapter 15: Fear

Chapter Text

The first thing Dylan’s new eyes saw was the man that had grabbed his hair, still holding onto what once was his scalp, shock, fear, and gore on his face. He was young, that was what Dylan managed to discern before he backhanded him, hitting his chest and sending him flying into mom’s rose bushes. The chain pulled, nothing more than an annoyance. Dylan snapped his head around, grabbing the chain with his teeth, biting down and tugging, pulling whoever that was stupid enough to hold onto it with him. The woman with the hoarse voice cursed as she got flung together with the chain, too stubborn to let go. Dylan swung her, sending her tumbling through their lounge furniture and into the house wall with a heavy thud. He broke the chain with his teeth, feeling the metal helplessly crush in his jaws. The chain around his feet tightened, a short, heavy-set man trying to pull him to the ground. Four. There were four of them. He had their scent now. Two on the ground, one annoying. One chasing his mom down the hall.

DIE

Dylan leaped in through the door, his claws scratching the bloody floor, wishing they could scratch the skin from Jonah’s back instead. No one hurt his family. No one. He had a prey, a scent, a back that he could sink his claws into. All senses were keyed onto the current threat to his family, this stranger running down the hall. Dylan ran at him on all fours, paws heavy against the floor, each step making the very walls shake. He pounced onto the running man, digging claws into his shoulders, knocking him to the ground and landing on his back with his full weight. Jonah’s surprised shout got cut short as his lungs were compressed, chest crushed under Dylan’s weight. Quick steps hurried up the stairs, telling Dylan that his mom was safe, for now. No one was allowed to hurt her.
“You heavy c*nt!” Jonah groaned with the first breath he managed to drag into his lungs. Damn there were things Dylan wanted to say to him. Instead, he just did another small hop on the hunter’s back, to empathize just how heavy he was. The hunter groaned again. Dylan almost found it… funny? Amusing? Another pair of footfalls filled the hall as the woman rushed at them, jumping him in a frenzy, stabbing her pathetic knife into his back once, twice, thrice. The pain was there, but it was just as before, nothing but an annoyance. Dylan swung to the side, crushing her between his shoulder and the wall, which cracked, framed photos falling from their places on the wall, glass shattering on the floor, smearing his blood onto the light wallpaper. The woman kicked at his face, just allowing him to snag her pantleg with his jaws, careful to not bite her, and started to drag her and the man towards the door. The woman kicked at his face, hitting him several times but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He still had a knife in his back, but he felt no pain, only rage that they dared to enter HIS HOME. Thick, wolf claws grabbed the back of their clothing as Dylan lifted them up, one in each arm, and threw them out of the house, knocking down the guy who held the chains when they landed with a satisfying thud. GET OUT. Like taking out the trash. He had to crouch to fit through the door, hackles raised, claws the size of knives outstretched, teeth always twisted and bared in a permanent snarl.

The remaining hunter, the heavy-set man, apparently thought it was a good idea to jump Dylan as he stepped out the door. The attempt at stabbing him, again, was pathetic. He did get stabbed once, the blade barely reaching through his fur and skin, the second time, he managed to grab the blade between his teeth, crush it into nothing but scrap and toss it after the hunters. Did they really go werewolf hunting with nothing but knives?! The man didn’t let his lack of a weapon stop him; he was still adamant that he could fight a goddamn werewolf. Dylan roared in his face, letting his protective rage wash over this puny, weak creature. As well as slobs of werewolf saliva. The man changed his mind about fighting, colour draining from his wet face. He turned and ran. Dylan supressed the instinct that told him to chase after and sink his teeth into his throat. Satisfied and even a bit amused, he turned his gaze towards the remaining three, a deep growl vibrating through his chest. A warning. GET OUT. The man holding the chain almost shook in his boots, first now Dylan discerned that he was more of a kid than a man. He couldn’t be much older than Dylan himself. The young man with patchy beard and a backwards cap, a heavy scarf around his neck and big eyes filled with fear met his gaze. He had pulled Dylan’s hair earlier, only for it to tear from his scalp as he transformed in an explosion of gore. And then Dylan backhanded him into mom’s rose bushes. He felt part of his rage fade, he wished he could ask if the young hunter was okay, he looked so scared. It was clear that neither of them wanted this, wanted to hurt someone else. Dylan hoped that he didn’t hurt him too much.

The woman and Jonah didn’t share their peaceful mentality, so the wolf turned its rage onto them instead. They clearly needed to hurt. GET OUT. The crazy lady ran at him again, swinging a machete. Dylan dodged that one, trying to keep his distance from this maniac of a woman, pulling out weapon after weapon. How many knives did she have?! There was no way he could end this peacefully, there was nothing but hatred in her dark eyes. Someone had hurt her, someone like him. If they hadn’t broken into his house and hurt his family, maybe he would’ve had enough sense to care. But for now, the wolf howled in rage, spurred awake during a waxing moon because someone had woken it up. He caught the blade with his hand knowing it was stupid, but it worked. The cold, cutting pain that shot through his fingers could be ignored as he slowly bent the blade until it snapped with a loud ping. He threw it away, stepping closer to the woman, adamant to drive her away. She kicked his knee, punched his gut. Pathetic. Her next punch never connected, as he grabbed her fist with his own, a clawed paw enveloping the woman’s hand. She swung with her other hand, just missing his nose. Dylan increased the pressure on her hand, slowly forcing her to stop as the pain forced her to her knees, towering over her, jaws descending towards her face. He met her gaze, silently asking her to give up, and she spat at his face. He crushed her hand, bones breaking like dry crackers, flesh tearing, joints snapping under his strength and the woman screamed in pain. Good. He grabbed her throat, watching her squirm, turning to claw at Jonah who got too close, musing over how good his claws felt while tearing through cloth and skin. Jonah shouted something. Probably the woman’s name. Dylan backhanded him, sending him flying, rolling, groaning in pain. The young man started to back away, heading towards the driveway which led out to the street, getting the wordless message written in the language of violence. GET OUT. The woman clawed at his hand. He tightened his grip.
“Where are you going, Mark!?” Jonah spat at him from the ground, slowly getting to his feet. The young man named Mark turned and ran. Dylan turned his attention towards the woman in his grip, rage pulsing though his veins like poison. He slammed her into the ground. She screamed in pain. Good. He stomped on her chest. Something snapped. Good. He grabbed her head with his clawed hand, knowing he could easily crack open her head like an egg. His claws dug into her skin and her blood smelled so sweet, appetizing, her eyes between his fingers were wide with fear and her scream muffled against his palm. Good.

No! Not good!

Nothing but good! He hurt someone! He hated that scream, hated how it told him was the cause of someone’s pain, and he actually felt good about it. He hated it. Hated what they forced him to do. He didn’t want to hurt them, and they forced him to become this monster. He hated it. Instead of crushing the woman’s head, he met her gaze, holding it, letting her know that he showed mercy as he slowly retreated, returning to guard the entrance to his home. Standing tall on his hind legs, with his claws out, teeth bared, growling, hackles raised, he gave them one last a warning. Don’t come closer, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. The hunters made little to no move to run, the woman staring at him, blood dripping down her face, Jonah gaping at him in shock. Dylan remembered that he still had a knife in his back, he reached back and pulled it out, letting it fall to the ground, unfazed. He was keeping that. With one last growl and fake charge at the hunters, he managed to persuade them to finally GET OUT. He chased them down the driveway, past mom’s roses, onto the curb to watch them climb onto the same truck that still sported his claw marks and drive off, into the night, not looking back. f*cking finally. He exhaled, feeling how his heart raced, how he panted, tongue hanging out, adrenaline in his veins like fire. It wasn’t as physically exhausting as it was mentally. He tried to make sense of the situation. He almost got kidnapped! How did they even find out where he lived?! How did they know his name? More importantly, he transformed, and it wasn’t a full moon. Thousand thoughts flooded his head, and he couldn’t make sense of any of them. Firstly, he needed to get out of sight. He wasn’t exactly sneaky as a 7ft tall werewolf underneath a streetlight on an empty street. He dashed up the driveway, cursing his carelessness. The neighbours probably saw him. Kaitlyn would kill him if they did.

Himself, he would find those people if they even thought about hurting his mom. Dylan didn’t slow down as he ran on all fours up the driveway, sliding in through the patio door, over the bloody floor and up the stairs. It sounded like he was tearing the house down for real this time, a heavy beast charging up the stairs, growling and panting. He couldn’t smell any blood from her, so she was probably unharmed. But she saw him. She saw him change. Saw him run down the hall, his eyes glowing, teeth bared and claws out. Oh, no. He stopped in his tracks, half-way up the stairs. How, in the living hog of Hackett’s quarry would he even begin to explain this. When this was him exploding into a monster and fighting of four intruders. He couldn’t even talk, there was a risk that she would just grab the one gun they had and shoot him on sight. Not that it would do much, but it would be noisy. He tried to listen as he walked up the stairs, trying his best to just calm himself down. Mom was in her bedroom, probably hiding behind her bed, away from the door. Close to where she kept her gun. He sat down in their hall, her door in front of him, his own behind him, the scent of blood, sweat, fear mixing with the scent of home in a sick way that made him nauseous. It was wrong. Home shouldn’t smell like that. It should be safe. Cosy, comfortable, stable, not a chaos of violence and tears of horror. Their family portraits shouldn’t be stained with blood, there shouldn’t be claw marks in the hardwood floor, glass on the carpet and bloody pawprints leading up the stairs. Your mom shouldn’t be crying of fear after seeing you explode into a monster.

Dylan let out a shaky exhale, dragging his claws through his fur-hair mess, not knowing what to do. He was so, so worried, and so, so ashamed that she had to see the mess that he now was. That he didn’t tell her sooner. What would she say? Do? He could hear her muffled sobbing, and it broke his heart. She must be so scared. There must be something he could do to comfort her. Begin to explain. She must know that he’s still him. Still her son. Not a monster. He just happened to look like one. Should he just sit here? Waiting to change back? Sitting in the hall, hearing his mother sob until the sun rose? Or knock on the door? He didn’t know. He curled up, back against the wall, hugging his alien legs and hiding his face in his arms. He was so scared. He scared mom. He hurt people. He wrecked their home. A sob tore itself from his throat. Why couldn’t he even sleep safely in his own house? Why did these people want to hurt him? He didn’t do anything! He just… existed. Mom deserved a better son than him. Someone that was at least human. With the normal amount of teeth. He sniffed, drying his nose on what was left of his pyjamas shirt. A son that didn’t leave a trail of blood across the carpet. The knot in the back of his throat loosened as he let out a broken sob, hot tears falling down his cheeks. He was just a growling, sniffing, and sobbing mess and mom deserved someone much better than him. Someone normal. Someone human.

Someone not him.

Chapter 16: Safe

Chapter Text

He didn’t know how long he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, his home, his mother, before a small noise caught his attention. Careful footsteps. A wave of fear, shame, uncertainty washed over him as the door unlocked with a click, the doorhandle lowering, his mom slowly opening the door. Dylan quickly hid his face in his arms, not knowing what to do, trying to make himself as small as possible. Tiny, invisible, insignificant. Mom would scream in horror any second now. Maybe shoot him. The door swung open. He heard her almost silent gasp as she saw him. She didn’t scream, she didn’t move. He held his breath.
“Dylan?” He flinched at the sound of her voice. How could she sound so calm and worried? Over him? He didn’t dare to look up, he was too afraid of seeing his own fear mirrored in her eyes. Mom took two wary steps towards him, then two more, and crouched down by his side. A small hand was put on his shoulder.
“Sweetie, look at me.” He didn’t dare to. He curled up tighter, wanting to disappear. “It’s okay.” No, it wasn’t! It was far from okay! Something that was a mix of a sob and a whine left him. Then hand hugged his shoulder, so familiar and yet so alien on this new skin and fur. Much smaller than it should be.
“Prosím, Dyl.” She whispered, turning to her mother tongue he barely knew. Please, Dyl. Please look at me, talk to me, let me in. He slowly dared to look up, still hiding his snout and horrible teeth, but meeting her gaze. Golden eyes meeting her dark brown, the colour his should be if he wasn’t a monster. She had put up her hair in a messy ponytail and had donned her cosy morning gown, the same one she always wore when lazing about around the house.
“Vlkolak…” She whispered, a beautiful word which he had no idea what it meant. She wasn’t scared of him as much as she was scared for him. Sadness filled her eyes, sorrow over seeing her son so broken and scared, curled up on the floor outside his mother’s door. She moved a strand of his fur-hair from his eyes to behind his pointy, beastly ear. The message was clear; I’m here for you when you need me. As always. Whatever he did, she would still be here. Whatever he was, she would never stop loving him. He knew this. It was a fact.
“Do you need a hug?” She asked, as if he wasn’t a monster covered in blood. He nodded, and fell into her familiar, safe arms, sobbing and crying of relief and shock over the violence he had to endure. He was safe. Mom was safe. They were okay. She still loved him, she still hugged him and let him sob into her gown even though he soiled it with tears and werewolf snot. All worry and trauma he’d bottled up over the last months came flooding out in tears and sobs, broken whines, and sniffs. The night when everything happened, when he saw Nick and Abi bloody and bitten, shotguns waving around, Kaylee dead, cold, facedown in the same pool campers played in just the day before. Silas, tearing his teeth into his hand and pulling him through the ceiling, the infection spreading in his blood, climbing up his arm, reaching his heart with a burning, hot feeling, infecting, poisoning the rest of him. The horror when Nick turned, and he knew that he was next. That he would become a monster. All those things he couldn’t speak about, the things he had to keep under wrap, hidden, all of it flowing out at once. And mom was there, she just held him, hushed him, stroked his back, his hair, drying his tears.

She wasn’t pushing him away. She wasn’t angry. Not afraid. Only worried for her son, like always. Like he wasn’t a big hulking beast resting his heavy head with fanged jaws on her shoulder, holding his claws to his chest so he wouldn’t scratch her. Dylan raised his head and let out a sad howl. Sorrow, relief, happiness all flowing out at once. Mom hushed him and rushed to clamp his jaws shut with both hands, cutting the howl short.
“Dylan! We have neighbours!” She hissed. Oh. Right. Use human-brain, not wolf-brain. He sat up, drying his nose on his furred arms, still smelling human blood on his fur, not knowing where to look or what to do from now on. Mom had questions, he knew that, she just waited on a suitable moment to barrage him with them. There was also a mess downstairs, blood on the walls and carpet and he even made a hole in the wall. And the teeny, tiny detail that he transformed without a full moon.
“You…” She said, not even sounding upset, just disappointed. “… young man, have some explaining to do.” He couldn’t even talk his way out of this one. Instead, he just sat down, like some obedient dog, and let out a small noise, something that was a mix of a sigh and a whine. They were the same height if he sat down, and it didn’t make her less scary.
“Who did this to you?” Mom asked, reaching out to just touch his cheek with familiar fingers. “Where can I find them? And what exactly is this?” Silas, a shallow grave, and well, he wished he knew the answer to the last question and had the ability to tell her. He had his own questions, like how she wasn’t freaking out. Turns out that werewolf snouts aren’t the best at articulating. Paper and pen it was. He managed to walk to his room without hitting his head on anything, break a screen or cut a cable, he did however flinch and whine at the sudden light that stung his eyes when mom flicked the light switch. Mom quickly apologised as he rubbed his eyes, grunting from the discomfort, waiting for the spots in his vision to fade before he kept looking for something to write on. Mom caught on what he was doing and tried to help, not that it was an easy task to find anything on the mess that was his desk. To transform at the quarry was, in its own, a totally unbelievable experience. To transform at home, and walk through his bedroom, was insane. Everything looked so different, his hands shouldn’t be claws that couldn’t unlock his phone, his head shouldn’t hit the lamp, the carpet shouldn’t be under paws instead of feet. His pyjamas shouldn’t be bloody and torn, forcefully stretched over a new form that was but wasn’t him. Mom shouldn’t have to look at him with such concern. It shouldn’t be like this.

Mom picked up his phone, handing it over with a questioning glance. He grabbed it with a thankful grunt. One problem at a time. The most urgent? The door was still open downstairs. He managed to unlock his phone, wrote down the word “door”, showed it to mom and hurried down the stairs on all fours with the phone clamped between his teeth. It just seemed easier to walk down the stairs that way. Two legs were just… jumbled? Unbalanced? Gangly and too tall, his feet too far down and far too strange to work like he remembered. The mess of blood, scratched floor, and shattered glass that was their living room greeted him. He did this. He crushed a woman towards that wall. His claws scratched the floor. His pawprints, pawprints, only that was insane, was painted in blood on the carpet. There were claw marks he didn’t remember making, a fallen vase he didn’t recall shattering, blood he didn’t remember spilling. Scents of blood he didn’t remember being so appetizing. He quickly shook the thought from his head as mom walked past him, picking up a broken family portrait of the two of them and dad, before he passed. It was one of few photos they still had of him. And now he almost ruined that too.
“I’m sorry.” Dylan wrote down, wiping drool of the screen, ashamed of this chaos and destruction.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Mom said, as a matter of fact. He didn’t look up, just down on his feet that twisted into paws that matched the scratches in the floor. “Dyl.” Mom put her hands on under his chin, gently tilting his head and cupping it with her hands. Had she always been so small?
“They came into our house. Attacking you. I am so relieved that you managed to defend yourself. If they hurt you…” She shook her head, stroking his cheek. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.” Probably something violent. Dylan probably shouldn’t mention how they stabbed him four or five times. Or how they ran him over. She would find out sooner or later and it was just another person who he needed to protect from her wrath. She’d grab a shovel to unearth Silas just so she could shoot him again.
“How long will… will you be like this?” Mom asked with worry on her face.
“I don’t know, until sunrise I think.” Dylan typed, letters a bit jumbled, the small device clumsy in his clawed hands. It was better than pen and paper. His handwriting was bad to begin with and paws would make it barely distinguishable from crow’s feet after a jig.
“Sunrise.” Mom nodded. “Let’s use the time to clean up this mess a bit?”

They worked in silence. Picking up glass, throwing out the bloodstained carpet. Using strong werewolf hands to bend the metal on the patio door in shape again after it got broken by the hunters. Even Mitzi dared to come out from under the couch. To Dylan’s surprise, she walked straight up to him, stroking herself against his leg, looking up at him totally unfazed. She recognized him. He picked her up, very gently, and just held her. She was so, so tiny in his hands. She purred and he wanted to cry of joy. Some things stayed the same. Good, clever, cute cat. He shooed her into the kitchen so she wouldn’t step on any glass. Blood was a pain in the ass to remove. Dylan remembered Nick on his knees, scrubbing the floor, muttering curses under his breath.
“Shift outdoors.” He grabbed his phone to type a warning for his mom. To give her a heads up about the bloody explosion that he was about to cause seemed like a good idea. And it was, as soon as the sun rose, he was out the door in an instant, feeling the familiar itch spread over his skin, under his skin, the world turning red as the feral armour he wore dissolved, skin tearing, teeth loosening, fur falling. It was like being under water again, this time he held his breath as he shook the blood and shed flesh from his body, hearing it hit the ground with disgusting, meaty sounds. He spat blood from his mouth, dried it from his eyes, coughed once or twice to just get it off so he could inhale the crisp morning air. That now smelled of werewolf shed. Shed that was spread on the lawn around him, on the patio’s tiles, disgusting chunks of fleshy fur, dissolving teeth, half an ear. Great. Still, it was a good feeling to be back to normal, to be able to feel the cool air on his skin. Drenched in blood as usual, clothes ruined, wet and sticking to his skin uncomfortably, but at least he was human. Dylan dragged his hands down his face, mostly to dry off some of the blood and shed, but also to feel the familiarity of his human face. No snout, no fangs, no fur. He could exhale. Mom stood in the doorway, a mix of shock, horror, and relief on her face. Dylan felt a blanket of shame and guilt wrap itself around him, heavy feelings weighting him down. He tried to pull of a carefree smile, a smile where he tried to hide the guilt and shame. Why couldn’t he just be normal?
“Hi, mom.” He said, and not a second later she rushed forward, hugging him tightly, not caring about the blood and guts. He hugged her back, burying his face in her morning gown, smearing blood everywhere but f*ck it, it washed away. The grounding smell of home and safety filled his lungs, a scent he always associated with home. Now, the lack of wolf made him feel like an outsider looking in. Where did he belong? The exhaustion from shifting and fighting crept through his veins, the infection eating away at his energy, hunger suddenly biting at his stomach. Food would be great.
“Shower, then, talk.” Mom said, almost a command.

A conversation with mom had never felt more like an execution than now. Dylan focused on eating, talking between bites, keeping his hands busy. Every distraction was welcome when he relived that horrible night again, telling mom what actually happened under the full moon in August. What had happened to him when Silas sunk his jaws into his wrist, tearing skin, breaking bone, spreading the infection like poison through his veins. He left out how he’d begged Ryan to cut off his hand. There were some things he didn’t want to dwell on. He told mom about how Nick turned, how he realized what would happen to him and how unbelievably terrifying it was to feel the infection eating away at his humanity until nothing but a monster was left. Was he even human anymore? He forced that thought out of the way, loading more food onto his plate to distract the jumbled mess of thoughts and trying to fill the abyss that was his stomach. “Werewolves and curses.” Mom cupped her hands around the mug of tea, trying to take in everything Dylan told her. She was taking it rather well. Dylan was still contemplating what to tell the pack. Hey guys I turned without the moon to defend myself from four hunters that tried to drag me away with chains and by the way mom saw everything. It was a f*cking mess.
“Every full moon, big bad wolf.” He mimicked claws with his hands, letting out what he meant to be a silly growl, but his throat easily turned it into a vicious snarl. He wished that he didn’t see mom flinch in fear. It was a tense silence that followed.
“I didn’t mean to... sound like that.” He said, not able to force the word “growl” to fall from his lips. “Sorry. For being like this.”
“Sweetheart, do not apologise for who you are.” Mom quickly corrected. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” She looked at him with that loving gaze, thoughts and questions almost visibly spinning in her head.
“I’m relieved to finally know why you have been acting so strange. And why the neighbours’ poodle doesn’t bark anymore.” She continued and Dylan remembered the tiny, white poof of a dog that yapped angrily at him, and how he responded with his own snarl, annoyed over this pest that tried to assert some sort of dominance. He’d almost forgotten.
“I… might have growled at it.” Dylan muttered, chasing a piece of scrambled egg with his fork. Mom became quiet, then she let out a warm chuckle, shaking her head.
“Whatever it takes to keep it quiet. But don’t chase away the mailman, I want my packages to be delivered.” She joked, getting a small smile from him. He wasn’t sure if he would chase away the mailman if he spooked him. It would take a while to wind down after this scare.

“By the way, how did you recognize me?” Dylan asked. To his surprise, mom chuckled at him.
“Because I don’t think that many werewolves walk around in my son’s Star Wars themed pyjama pants.” That made the night much more comical.
“I guess a werewolf in pants with baby Yoda pattern stands out.” Dylan chuckled and they both smiled. “I still kicked ass.” Mom nodded in what he guessed was approval.
“You told me you have a pack?” Dammit it sounded silly to say out loud. It sounded so much better in his wolf-brain when he was on all fours, running through the forest.
“It’s what we call it.” He shrugged. “It just… feels right?” Mom nodded, taking a sip of tea, taking her time. Dylan wanted to rush to his room to call his pack. They had to know about this. All of it!
“And you have a werewolf boyfriend?” Mom said. How she managed to make the boyfriend-part more important than the werewolf-part was a wonder in its own. Dylan groaned and felt his face flush red.
“… Yes.”
“Does he make you happy?” Dylan thought about Ryan’s smile, his hugs, the warm fuzzy feeling his compliments gave. Without noticing it, he smiled too, nodding as he didn’t trust his voice.
“Just remember that…”
“… if you want to party, always bring protection, yes mom, thank you. I know.” He interrupted, knowing very well where this discussion was heading.
“There are condoms in the upstairs bathroom if you need any.” Could someone just shoot him?
“Yes, I remember…” He groaned.
“I just want you to stay safe.”
“Mom, please.” He was feeling physical pain by now.
“Especially during full moons. If it’s like you describe then…”
“Mom!” Dylan groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Was it too late to jump into the hunters’ truck to escape this horrible fate? Being hog-tied with silver chains and kidnapped seemed like a better way to go. “I’m a bit occupied with being assaulted in my home and turning into a wolf-monster, can this discussion wait?” Until the never^th of ever?
“Just promise me you’ll be safe, with everything, and I’ll let you go.” Mom said with a knowing smile, probably finding it entertaining to embarrass him.
“YesIpromisetostaysafethankyoubye!” He yapped and bounced up from his seat, running from one heavy conversation towards another.
“Dylan!” Mom shouted after him, making him freeze in his track and slowly turn to face her. “I love you, wolf or not.” She said with a soft smile. He hurried back to hug her.
“I love you too.” Dylan said, blinking tears of relief and joy from his eyes.

Chapter 17: Net

Chapter Text

Dylan needed to call the entire pack. He didn’t want to, he was exhausted and braving another hour of loud questioning from his pack when he just went through that with mom seemed like an impossible task. Fortunately, he didn’t need to call. Emma called them as he was procrastinating the task in front of his computer. He knew something was up when he answered the call. Emma’s camera was pointed towards the ground, and she seemed to be jogging through a park, the path wet asphalt covered in fallen leaves. He could hear her breathing, her feet hitting the ground, the fabric of her clothes rustling together.
“Emma?” He probed, almost tasting her anxiety.
“Dylan! Thank f*ck!” Her face appeared on the screen, hair frazzled and wet, bags under her frantic eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged, like she went on a nightly hike without removing it. Her eyes were flaring red, and it immediately put him on edge. She wasn’t angry, she was alert, eyes darting out of frame, scouting her surroundings as she made her way through the park. Now and then, Dylan caught a flash of red in them.
“Hunters!” She hissed through her teeth. Dylan didn’t remember standing up, but now he did. They didn’t come after just him. Who else got hurt? Did he need to go anywhere to help?
“Are you okay?” He felt his eyes flash, the protective anger rising.
“I will be.” She panted. “I go to grab a nightly double peanut butter crush smoothie, and this is what I get?! They had a net, a net, Dylan! I’ve been running through the f*cking park all night, dodging these maniacs.”
“Did you transform?” He asked. She glared at the screen, eyes red, brow furrowed, trying to discern if he was joking.
“Why are you asking that?” She probed, to which he shrugged and recoiled under her red gaze. “Dylan, what happened? Did anyone hurt you? I’ll rip their nuts off.” Something in her words reignited the animalistic anger, a trigger that woke the sleeping wolf.
“They came into my house.” Dylan felt himself growl, the rage slowly building until it would be boiling. Human-brain, human-brain for f*ck’s sake use your head, Dylan! “Four hunters. They tried to drag me away in chains, they stabbed me…”
“Why the hell didn’t you call earlier?!” Emma shouted, her smudged make-up and red eyes making her look like a dangerous beast.
“Because I transformed without a f*cking moon in front of my mother!” Dylan yelled back, his voice breaking off into a snarl, his eyes glowing golden yellow. They were both glaring at each other, eyes burning, a protective rage with no outlet buzzing in the air. It tasted burnt, sour, poisonous.
“That’s…” Emma shook her head. “Very unexpected.”
“It’s a whole new bag of fun possibilities for us to explore.” Dylan sat down with a sigh, wishing the rest of the pack could hurry to get on this call. He ran his hands down his face, wishing he’d gotten some decent sleep.
“Is everyone okay over there? Sorry for yelling, I’m just…” Emma started, her words trailing off into silence. She shook her head in disbelief.
“It’s cool, I get it. Getting hunted like an animal is a rather stressful activity.” At least he was at home, safe and sound, she was out in the rain, walking home from being chased.
“How did your mom react? She good?”
“She’s taking it well under the circ*mstances and I’m sure she’ll get me some kibbles instead of cereals and a sign that says: Beware of the dog.” Emma chuckled at his comment.

Kaitlyn joined the call, looking awake and proper as usual. Psychopath. She glared at the camera.
“No one’s hurt!” Dylan quickly said, answering her first question before she even asked it.
“Speak for yourself, I ruined my best pair of sneakers for that.”
“Type a chat log, please.” Kaitlyn muttered, almost disgusted by the lack of proper meeting etiquette. Both Dylan and Emma erupted in barking explanations until Kaitlyn sighed and held up a hand, quieting them both.
“Emma, you start. Dylan, type this in the chat so the rest of the pack can read it.” He didn’t need to be told twice. It was a welcome distraction.
“Dylan and I got attacked by hunters last night.” Emma started, Kaitlyn immediately giving them her full attention, seemingly closing several tabs to focus. “I ran away while Dylan, had a bit more… eventful night.”
“Not that eventful, they only broke into my house and tried to kidnap me. I transformed and politely told them to f*ck off. With my claws. Oh, and mom saw it all. Otherwise, I’m fine.” He said, typing as he spoke, adding a message to the chat.

Dylan: “BEAR ATTACK, feel free to slide in sooner than later.”

Kaitlyn muted her mic, took of her headphones, and left the screen. She needed a moment.
“Girl, what are you doing?” Emma called after her. “Great job, Dylan, you finally scared her of.”
“Stop projecting your insecurities onto me, it doesn’t suit you.” He jabbed back as Kaitlyn entered her camera again, putting on the headphones. Dylan guessed that she either punched a wall or screamed into a pillow.
“Are you f*cking serious?” She said, a stern, furious expression across her face. Dylan only nodded, almost tasting the anger radiating off her. He recognized it, she wanted someone to bleed. As much as he wanted to join the crusade of vengeance and bloody teeth, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. The wolf-brain didn’t agree. That was also why it wasn’t in charge.

Laura joined the call, a sleepy Max leaning over her shoulder, and Emma started to recap her last night while hurrying home through a light drizzle.
“Are you guys okay?” Laura asked, getting straight to the point. Kaitlyn redirected them to Dylan’s notes, and sassy remarks that he might or might not delete before Emma read them and threw him into a pool.
“We will be as soon as we sort this out.” Kaitlyn muttered as Emma continued to recap her last night.
“Okay, so, on my way home from the store this mungo dude, dressed as a homeless biker, f*cking leapt out of the bushes with a goddamn net! Who does he think he is?!”
“The dogcatcher?” Dylan suggested, getting a glare from Kaitlyn and Emma. He shrunk down in his chair but felt better when he heard Max chuckle at his comment.
“Well, to begin with, he missed me, then he had the audacity to call me a bitch! So, I did the most logical thing, I kicked him in the balls and ran.
“Ouch.” Max muttered while Laura nodded in approval.
“I mean he’s technically not wrong.” Dylan muttered, only for Emma to stare into his soul.
“Don’t go there Lenivy, I know where you sleep.” She spat at him. Yikes.
Emma kept ranting, talking faster than normally, her words spilling out, tumbling over each other. Dylan slowly realized that she was far more shaken by this than she let on, hence the blabbering. She stuttered a word, finally reaching a building, fumbling with her keys.
“Emma.” Kaitlyn said, voice stern and steady. Emma stopped talking, her lower lip quivering. They exchanged a gaze, Emma took a deep breath and kept talking, much slower this time.
“So, I spent the rest of the night running through the park and hiding, just so these f*ckers wouldn’t catch me.” Now it was Dylan’s turn…

Abi and Nick joined from the same device, both looking newly awake and slightly… frazzled? Emma immediately went into a rant about that very detail. Abi turned bright red, while Nick rolled his eyes. Dylan did his best to not smash his face into the keyboard. This wasn’t important right now! Jacob dropped in, hair wet as he hurried through a locker room, probably just getting out of the shower after training. Ryan was yet to be seen. Dylan sent away a quick text, worry brewing in his stomach.

Dylan: “Important call going on, might wanna drop in.”

Ryan didn’t read the message. He was probably busy. Dylan bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Good thing Emma was still ranting so he didn’t need to take notes. The regular disarray that was them trying to spread consistent information continued. Ryan still wasn’t answering. Dylan stopped taking notes, as Emma had delayed all useful information. Three hunters, they were armed with knives, and a net. She caught their scent, one of which she did recognize from last full moon. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. Why wasn’t Ryan answering? He sent away another message as the pack barked through the details.

Dylan: “You okay?”

Someone called his name, and he rose his head from the phone to pay attention.
“Are you okay there? You wrote that you shifted last night.” Max asked, yellow fading from his eyes. Everyone’s attention turned to Dylan. He wanted to both back into a corner to hide and embrace their attention. Allowing them to hear his thoughts and problems and worries and help him. For once, he had enough bravery to choose the second option. He needed them. They were there for him.
“Ryan isn’t answering and…” Dylan sighed, not even knowing where to start. “… what if hunters got him?” Worry replaced annoyance on Kaitlyn’s face, and she immediately picked up her phone. Dylan grabbed his own phone and called Ryan the old-fashioned way. The signals reached his ear, the tones seemingly lasting an hour, dragging the claws of worry over him with each signal. Why wasn’t he picking up? What happened? Did the hunters get him? He caught a glimpse of himself in the camera, his eyes burning yellow with no intention of it fading. The call went to voicemail. He was too anxious to sit still, and the pack’s questions didn’t help. He walked in circles, like a wolf in a cage, staring at his phone. He called again, putting it on speaker, counting the signals.

A familiar noise sounded in this headset. Ryan joined the video call with the pack. Dylan sighed, relief swelling in his chest when he spotted Ryan’s familiar face on the screen. He was okay.
“Where’s the fire?” Ryan asked, worry already casting its shadow over his face.
“At your boyfriend’s apparently.” Emma muttered. “He’s walking in circles.”
“A fire would be easier to handle.” Dylan growled. “They don’t chase you down wielding knives.”
“Woah, wait, wait, wait.” Ryan said, staring intently at his screen, the familiar amber glowing in his eyes. It should’ve scared anyone else, but for Dylan, it was a comfort. He was seen, cared for, protected. By someone like himself. He loved his mom, he really did, but she wasn’t bitten, wasn’t infected like them, wasn’t a packmate. He wished he could hold him, smell his scent, rub his face into the hook of his neck. Freshen up any marks that would’ve faded.
“Babe, what happened? Are you okay?” Ryan asked him specifically. They both ignored Emma’s wolf whistle and Jacob’s cheering howl.
“Good to see that you finally got your heads out of your own asses.” Kaitlyn muttered, a strange emotion visible on her face. Jealousy? Smugness? Happiness? Dylan couldn’t identify it. The emotion quickly turned to concern as she looked at him through the camera, silently asking him what happened, if he was okay. He finally got a chance to speak.
“We had a break-in last night. Hunters.” He started. “And I transformed. Last night. My cat is pretty chill with it, and mom saw, so she knows.” They turned silent, just staring at him, trying to take in this new information.
“Full on wolf?” Ryan asked and Dylan nodded. They all exchanged glances, Nick turning almost white, Abi rubbing his back. Max… still didn’t look surprised.
“…but how?” Jacob asked, a question nobody had a good answer to. Dylan shrugged.
“So we are hunted as humans as well now?” Laura sighed, rubbing her temples. “And we aren’t safe in our own homes, so what are we going to do?” Max put a hand on her shoulder, gently asking for her attention.
“Remember that I told you I had a bad feeling?” He said, Laura nodding. “I think we should meet up. We’re stronger together. It feels like the right thing to do, they haven’t attacked when we’re together.”

They weren’t safe in their homes. They weren’t safe in the quarry. They weren’t safe as werewolves, nor as humans. At least they managed to answer one question of many, how the hunters knew where they lived. After the incident at Hackett’s quarry, their case had been mentioned in several newspapers, with their names. Hell, even Bizarre yet Bonafide had mentioned it. Dylan knew that he had an unusual surname and Emma basically broadcasted her location to the world, so it wasn’t too hard to track them down. The hunters had clearly showed that they wouldn’t hesitate to attack them at their homes, so it was time to do something else than hunker down. It was time to prepare. Prepare to defend their homes, their packmates, their skin. And this time, they knew that they could change without the moon. And as Dylan’s violent involuntary experiments discovered, they could get stabbed as humans without it doing much. It hurt, but that was about it. They healed up quickly. They were dangerous, and they had no idea how dangerous. How and when could they change? Could they control it? Was it only at night? The questions had to wait until after they dispatched of this threat. If they had to be hunted, let them be hunted together. Hurt one wolf and you get the pack. They wouldn’t leave each other until this mess was over, and the hunters stopped hunting them. Or if the hunters mysteriously disappeared.

Or turned up dead.

The pack decided to head to the quarry as soon as possible. Those who couldn’t drive would be picked up, Kaitlyn didn’t have access to the usual minibus, so their own cars had to do. Dylan didn’t feel comfortable driving since he barely slept at all last night, so Kaitlyn and Ryan would pick him up on their way there. It was war, Dylan realized as he packed his bag, again. They were hunted, people wanted to harm them. Even though he knew he’d be able to fight them off, he was scared, terrified even. What if they came after his mom? Mitzi? The rest of the pack? Ryan? What if they loaded their guns with silver? Dylan thought about that hunter woman, with the eyes filled of anger. He showed her mercy, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t if the roles were reversed. Someone had hurt her. Her and that man, Jonah, and they dragged more people into their hunt for whatever vengeance they were searching. If they came after him again, if they hurt him or someone he held dear, he wouldn’t be so kind. Some strange, mythical force had granted him this primal power and dammit he would use it to protect the people he loved. No one should get hurt because of him. No one.

Next time there would be blood.

Chapter 18: Popcorn

Chapter Text

“And where do you think you’re going?” Mom crossed her arms over her chest as Dylan carried his backpack down the stairs.
“Back to the quarry. It feels safer to be together.” And they wouldn’t endanger their families. This conflict just wasn’t suited for the human world anymore. It couldn’t be solved in a city or suburb. Not by laws, papers, and handcuffs. It was a war of teeth, gunpower, and blood.
“The same quarry that they attacked you in?” Mom questioned, not convinced that it was a good idea.
“We don’t have many alternatives.” Dylan muttered, eyes darting to the clock. Kaitlyn and Ryan would be here in an hour.
“You haven’t thought about involving the police?” Her tone told him that she knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea, she just wanted to hear his reasoning.
“We just got acquitted.” Dylan muttered, the unpleasant memories of not only monsters and death but the threat of life in prison looming over their heads. The justice system was almost scarier than the werewolves. What would have happened if they got locked up? How many people would get hurt? Mom followed him as he kept throwing his things together.
“If I never see the inside of a police station again in my life, I’ll die happy. And Travis told us to just lay low and well...” Mitzi looked at him from his bed, either judging him for going away or proud that he chased down the people that broke into their house.
“I feel bad for him…” Dylan confessed, picking through the stack of “full moon shirts”.
“Travis?”
“Officer Travis Hackett.” Didn’t he tell her that? He couldn’t remember. Too much was swirling in his head. “He’s helping us, letting us borrow the quarry and helped us keep safe last moon. He even tried to chase down the hunters with Max and Laura.” He had been mad when Nick and Kaitlyn told him about Travis arriving to the lodge, Max and Laura somehow cramped into his car, which, according to Travis, still smelled like wet dog. To see two tall werewolves tumble out of a police car would’ve been a sight to behold. Too bad that he was busy being passed out from blood loss or whatever knocked him out.
“The same sheriff that lost his entire family?” Thanks for pointing that out. Dylan knew that it wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the stinging wave of guilt that flooded over him. He had been down this hole before, letting the “what if” scenarios overwhelm him until he could think of nothing else. If they just listened to Mr. H, if he didn’t propose that stupid campfire party, none of this would’ve happened. Travis would have his family, they wouldn’t be freaking monsters, their life forever altered, maybe they would even be able to go to college. Maybe Caleb and Kaylee too.
“Yeah, that guy.” There was more he wanted to say but he couldn’t find the words. He opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally pieced together a coherent sentence. “It reminded me of dad. It hurt so much to lose one person, and Travis lost so much more.” Dylan clenched his hands in an old band shirt. “And he’s still helping us, even when he knows that everything is our fault.” Mom placed a hand on his shoulder, something to ground him, lean onto. Just reminding him that he wasn’t alone. They had had this discussion before, Dylan getting stuck on the potential outcomes of that disastrous night if they only acted differently.
“We were stupid, and so many people died.” He whispered, ashamed. He had said those words before, but sometimes if was nice to just went a bit.
“Yes, you were, and you can’t change what you did but you can decide what you will do about it.” She had said that before. But today she added a new sentence. “Have you thanked Officer Hackett for helping you?” He hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t, there had been other things that occupied his thoughts. Not that that was an excuse. Mom read the answer on his expression.
“Then maybe start there.” She patted his shoulder and ruffled his hair lovingly. “At least I will be there to help him.” Mom added. That made Dylan step back and stare at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, increasingly worried.
“Do you really think that I will let you go off alone?” Oh no.

Kaitlyn and Ryan looked very confused when two people was waiting on them. Dylan was happy that mom would at least drive there alone. And she promised to not embarrass him too much. He needed time to talk to Kaitlyn and Ryan. Sort through his thoughts. Die from embarrassment. Cuddle up next to Ryan. Mine. He let those thoughts spin for a minute as Ryan and Kaitlyn rushed out of the car and hugged him, Kaitlyn almost jumping up to throw her arms around his neck. She could really be adorable when she wasn’t busy being terrifying. They smelled of home, anticipation, and safety, the air after rain, dusty furniture, pineapple scented shampoo and family. There were tones that were missing, spices, earth, antiseptic, motor oil… Still, there was nothing that could replace Ryan’s scent. Or the taste of his lips from the quick kiss they shared. Dylan struggled to hold himself back, to not growl and pull Ryan into a deep kiss, chasing after the taste, run his hands down his back and lips down his neck to…
“Your eyes are showing.” Kaitlyn informed him and he had to get his thoughts in order. Dylan took a deep breath and railroaded his thoughts onto another track, extremely aware of the eyes on him. It would be easier if he knew that his mom wasn’t present. And aware of the werewolf issue. The worst thing however, was that the bitemark had faded from Ryan’s neck. It made his jaw tense. Mark. Mine. Great, now that urge was back again, making his teeth itch, his jaw shiver. He really needed some gum for the car ride, or he’ll start biting things again.
“I missed you.” Dylan said, hugging them both tighter. Kaitlyn gave up a small noise as she almost disappeared between them, absorbed into the hug.
“Missed you too.” Ryan answered, and Kaitlyn probably did too, just muffled as they almost suffocated her. “Your mom looks like she’s going to shoot us.”
“Yeah about that… She’s coming with us.” Dylan muttered. Kaitlyn froze into a statue of sheer tension, glaring at him, fury in her eyes. “It wasn’t my f*cking idea don’t shoot the messenger.” He quickly added, knowing that there was no stopping his mom. If she made up her mind about something only a force of God himself would stop her.
“Mrs. Lenivy, I don’t think it’s a good idea that you come with us.” Kaitlyn said as she stepped forward, believing herself to be a force of God himself. Dylan exchanged a quick gaze with his mother, silently asking her to show mercy. He grabbed Ryan’s hand, just needing something to hold onto.
“I think it’s a very good idea that I do.” Mom answered.
“It will be very dangerous, and we have enough sh*t to worry about already.” Kaitlyn said, already fed up with this discussion.
“Another pair of hands that hand handle a gun and stitch a wound will be a welcome addition then.” Mom nodded to her car. “I will bring what medical supplies I have laying around, so you will have less sh*t to worry about. I’m a mother, it is my job to worry.” She grabbed her backpack and swung it up on her back.
“Ma’am, you can get shot!”
“I’ve been shot before, and I’ve treated several gunshot wounds, no need to concern yourself with my safety.” Dylan knew that she was going to drag that up. She hadn’t really gotten shot; it was more of a bullet that grazed her calf. It wasn’t too bad, she needed some stitches and thorough cleaning of the wound but she was up and going again almost immediately. Kaitlyn had no answer to that comment, she just gave Dylan a highly questioning glare. He shrugged in response.

They arrived at the quarry as the sun set, a waxing moon soon rising over the horizon. The light from the lodge was one of few light sources, the forest eerily dark and quiet around them, the smell of lake, pine and frost on the wind. When they turned of the car engines, Dylan expected silence to envelop them but there was an immediate bustle from the lodge, the door swinging open and the pack racing out to welcome them. Jacob even let out one of his joking barks. Pack. Family, hugs and tackles, smiles, and laughs. Dylan felt a tension release from his shoulders, allowing him to relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. He was exhausted, and now finally safe. Safe with his pack, with Jacob hugging him with crushing strength, Nick almost tackling them, bringing the scent of kitchen and spices with him, Abi following closely to give them the softest of hugs. Emma that attacked with the same energy as Nick, burying her face into their jackets, muttering something about missing their scent. Laura visibly relaxing as she saw them unharmed, Max grabbing her hand and pulling them both into the mess that was their mismatched family. Together. Whole. Ours. Safe. Their laughs mixed together as they should, creating the most beautiful sound to ever exist, their scents blended, rubbed off on each other, uniting them again. As it should be. It was strange to feel such a strong bond to people he hadn’t known for that long, people that used to be just co-workers, but Dylan knew that he’d easily take a bullet for any of them. He already had. It was obvious who started the first howl, Jacob raising his head towards the night sky and letting out the worst howl, scream, noise they’d ever heard. Dylan had no idea who joined in after him, nor when he himself went from laughing to howling. It was the most beautiful, horrendous noise he’d ever heard. Dylan only stopped howling because he was laughing too much to make any other noise. Happiness was bubbling through him, a light, fuzzy feeling, of softness and security. His arms around Ryan, his scent in his lungs, Jacob, Nick, Abi, Kaitlyn, Emma, Laura, and Max surrounding them. Together. As it should be. The wolf was present and yet so far away.

“We have the best, f*cking surprise for you!” Emma said, a big grin on her face. Dylan glanced around the pack, looking for obvious signs of f*ckery but found none. When Abi was smiling softly he was certain that he at least wasn’t in any life-threatening danger.
“Is it a way to precisely measure the position and speed of an electron at the same time?” Dylan asked and Emma rolled her eyes at him.
“Nerd. It’s better than that.” They grabbed their bags and walked inside. Mom was already inside, chatting with Travis and seemingly keeping her promise to stay out of the way. Please uphold rule seven. The tables in the main hall had been moved to the sides to leave place for what could only be described as a nest of pillows, mattresses, and blankets. A big sheet was hung onto the chimney in the middle of the room, and a projector was currently projecting what looked like a paused media player onto the sheet. It looked like some cheap horror movie.
“Movie night!” Jacob cheered, getting backed up by Emma.
“And who’s to thank for that?” Max asked, kneeling next to the laptop plugged to the projector. Laura ran her fingers through his hair and pat his shoulder.
“You, and whatever charitable web pirate that shares their files with us.” She said. Dylan nodded at their set-up, for once onboard with the idea.
“Well, shiver my timbers.” He muttered with a smile.
“Yo-ho-ho.” Max said with a grin, testing the volume, making sure that they didn’t blow another speaker. Why didn’t they do this sooner? All of them curled up together, in sweatpants or pyjamas, or in Abi’s case, the fluffiest, most adorable pair of black unicorn slippers. Dylan wanted a pair. The best attire was however Laura’s pyjamas pants with pattern of tiny wolf paws. Emma suggested that they all got a pair each and everyone was strangely onboard with that. Dylan made a mental note of that because he was definitely setting that plan in motion. Nick and Abi made sure that a ridiculous amount of popcorn was made. They quickly ran out of bowls and used pots instead to pour the snacks in, or in Jacob’s case, an old ranger hat he found in a box somewhere. And of course, someone managed to find a bag of peanut butter pops, which triggered a delightful jingle duet from Nick and Jacob. The smell of popcorn and questionable expired snacks would probably linger in the lodge for days, while the crumbs and stray popcorns that they tossed at each other would last for decades. There was no way they would find all of them. Not the ones that Ryan tossed for Dylan to catch them in his mouth, and especially not the ones from the bowl that Nick flung across the room with a growling yelp when a jump scare on screen startled them all. It had Abi almost crying of giggles as he grumbled and tried his best to just curl up and hide in her arms. Dylan himself curled up with his head resting on Ryan’s lap, his fingers running through his hair, his feet tangled into the same blanket as Max’s. Kaitlyn used his chest to prop up a pillow to lean against, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, her light chuckles sending small trembles trough them all. It was peaceful. It was safe. Home. Maybe. Dylan gently grabbed Ryan’s hand and pressed his lips to his knuckles, then a soft, playful nibble to his fingers, rewarding him with a chuckle from Ryan.

Dylan woke up with a kink in his back and a pair of feet close to his face, by the smell, Nick’s. He turned over with a disgruntled groan, stretching his back and disturbing several people that grunted in annoyance. They were all tangled together like some snake nest. Warm. Safe.
“Pillows shouldn’t move.” Kaitlyn almost growled, propping up her pillow to his back instead before collapsing back onto it.
“She’s right you know.” Ryan muttered, his arm wrapped around Dylan’s waist, his head tucked under his chin. Warm, soft, smelling so, so good. Dylan pressed his lips to his forehead, so thankful for his presence, the warmth of the smouldering embers in his chest. A foot nudged his head as Nick turned over with a snore. Dylan wasn’t as thankful for that.

Chapter 19: Mark

Chapter Text

The weather was sh*t. It was cold, raining and the wind bit like icy razors as soon as you stepped out the door. Since experimenting with possible werewolf abilities wasn’t an indoor activity, and since Travis would kill them if they left more blood on the floor, they decided to spend the day cleaning up the popcorn and trying to freshen up the lodge. Last moon they were here they didn’t have any time to spend on sweeping the floor or wipe down the tables. The place could use some cleaning. Nick was probably the one who had done the most cleaning when he scrubbed parts of shed flesh and fur from the floor. The hall still smelled like dirty feet and rot. Like an old gym locker something died in. It must’ve sucked to clean up, Dylan thought. He felt a little bit guilty that he left some bloody footprints there on purpose. A little bit. The fear of having to clean something similar was probably why Nick suddenly decided that they really needed to make a grocery run. Dylan quickly volunteered to go with him, jumping at the chance to get out of more cleaning. The pack together consumed more food, especially meat, than anyone could expect. Partly because they were still eating like teens and young adults, and partly because they were all carrying a dormant wolf-monster inside them and who even knew what that did to your metabolism. Nick barely slept anymore. Jacob had developed an unhealthy addiction to bacon. Ryan who used to hate ribs and stakes couldn’t get enough of them. The list was long.

Dylan was halfway out the door with Nick, Abi, and Ryan when Max grabbed his arm, a faded yellow in his eyes. He had that look again, the look of worry and almost fear. Whatever the feeling was, it made a shiver of uneasiness run up Dylan’s spine.
“Wanna come with us on our quest for nourishment?” Dylan asked, trying to shake off the feeling.
“No, I just…” Max sighed, trying to find his words. “I have a bad feeling.” He shrugged, crossing his arms. “I thought that maybe… It’s extremely silly. But what if…”
“What if…?”
“What if this bad feeling is some sort of… foresight?” Dylan remembered how strangely Max had reacted when Dylan told the pack about the break-in. Like he expected something to happen.
“Dyl, you coming?” Ryan asked, immediately getting his attention.
“Let’s just chill for a minute? We’re discussing potential superpowers here.” All three of them looked at him as if he was crazy.
“What… exactly do you mean by that?” Ryan asked with a confused frown, tilting his head a bit. It made him look like a confused puppy. Adorable.
“Okay, maybe not superpowers, but some sort of… special ability.” Dylan said.
“Yes, superpowers are now re-named special abilities because of trademark issues.” Max deadpanned and Dylan chuckled.
“Yeah, we can’t afford to lawyer up against Marvel to bring proper justice to the world and we haven’t reached the point in our story arc where we take on the true villain; capitalism.”
“I thought it was the patriarchy.”
“That’s next week.” Dylan said in a stage whisper. “Don’t spoil anything.”
“What… are we talking about again?” Ryan chimed in, desperately trying to get the conversation back on track. Right. Dylan forced his thoughts to turn around.
“Okay, I don’t really know how to describe it, and I would do the whole ‘you’re not gonna believe this’ speech but we’re way past that. Bear with me.”
“No, no bears. We discussed this.” Dylan chimed in.
“Being unbearable won’t automatically keep them away but I appreciate the effort.” Nice burn, Dylan gave him a nod of approval. Max continued. “So… Before the last full moon, I had this feeling that it was a really bad idea to split up. I mean, you don’t split the party. Then well, Laura and I became furry deputies, and you know the rest. We were all going a bit cuckoo that night, so I didn’t think more of it. Then when we were driving I get this feeling again, Laura pulls over and guess what, some knuckleheaded maniac sped right through the intersection. If we’d kept going, pancake werewolves.” Max sighed, looking somewhat surprised that no one had interrupted him or accused him of sniffing something dubious. “Third time was when I woke up in the middle of the night. I didn’t know why, except that I had this nasty-ass feeling again. Then we get a call that you had some nightly violent visitors.” Max looked at Dylan with an almost pleading look. He seemed so sure that they wouldn’t believe him. But again, after everything they’d been through, this sounded not only plausible but likely.
“I believe you.” Abi was the first one to speak up. “We should bring a radio, just to be sure.” The rest of them nodded, and Max relaxed, visibly relieved that they took his concerns seriously.
“On it.” Dylan said, hurrying to the closet where they kept them.
“At least stomp the mud of your boots!” Nick yelled after him. Dylan made sure to stop on a certain set of floorboards and do a little step dance before he continued to the storage to fetch the radios. He did the same on the way back, making Nick groan in frustration. The rest of them chuckled.
“Mate, please.” Nick sighed, Abi giggling by his side, and Ryan smiling warmly. “Don’t you have like, a crane to clean or something?”
“Travis pressure washed it.” Max said, grabbing one of the radios, making sure it worked. “Drive carefully. I don’t want to pressure wash you off the road.”
“We will.” Abi assured as they exited the lodge, stepping into the freezing rain that felt like spikes hitting skin. It made Dylan wish for his fur.

The rain wasn’t any kinder on the way there, aggressively hitting the windshield like it had a personal vendetta against them. The wipes worked furiously to keep the sight clear as they drove towards North Kill. Dylan rode shotgun and played DJ since the radio never worked as it should up here. It was all buzzing. Or eerie whispers that you couldn’t explain. They didn’t want to think about either. The ride was spent in relative silence, one of the few conversations they had was when Dylan spotted the tiny plush kangaroo dangling from the rear-view mirror.
“Nick, my friend, you are a living stereotype.” Dylan said, giving the plushie a push so it swung on its string.
“Don’t you dare insult my son.” Nick answered in a far too serious tone.
“Fine, fine. Hands off, I will not touch Nick Junior without your permission.” Dylan surrendered, hearing Abi giggle from the back seat. There were an awful lot of cars outside the store, they had to circle the parking lot twice before finding a spot. Thanks to some asshat that parked over two spaces with their giant jeep.
“Do you think we’re strong enough to move it to free up a parking space?” Dylan wondered out loud.
“I was thinking the same, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it.” Ryan said.
“That’s why you have me, I put your amazing ideas into the world.” They pulled on their jackets
as if they were going into war, jogging through the rain towards the store. It was a pretty shabby, sad place, torn posters with expired advertisem*nts still clinging to the walls, newer posters just stapled over them. A window in the doors was broken and only fixed with cardboard and duct tape, inside wasn’t any better. Dylan immediately frowned as the scents overwhelmed him, it wasn’t bad, it was just much. Especially after the rain that washed everything away. So many people, foods, cleaning supplies, perfumes, mud from boots, ripe fruit, ink from printed receipts, it all hit him at once. He was glad that Nick had a scaringly precise list to follow. Dylan always thought it was fun to wander a bit, see if there was any wacky junk he could either show for the others, make a joke with or buy for a future joke.
“We need about some of these.” He said as they passed a rack of cheap dog collars and leashes.
“Why?” Ryan asked with a frown.
“Well, you know.” Dylan gave him a very suggestive look, watching as Ryan’s expression went from questioning to realization and then to that blushing smile he always tried to hide. “We need something to contain all this raw, bestial power.” Dylan added, pushing his luck. The thought of a collar around his neck… wasn’t that unpleasant. Especially not if Ryan was the one who tugged at it. Yours. I’m yours and I want to show it, let me be yours. Be by my side, run with me as the moon is full, hunt with me. His teeth ached to bite something again. Preferably Ryan. Mine. To put a mark on his skin, sinking teeth into flesh. The taste of his blood on his tongue, his scent in his lungs and his smooth, beautiful skin under his hands…
“I think you broke your boyfriend, Ryan.” Abi’s voice cut through his thoughts. How far had he zoned out?
“Nah, he does that sometimes.” Ryan said with a shrug as Dylan returned to earth.
“What?” He asked, looking at them both questioning, trying to ignore the blush that crept up his cheeks from Abi’s soft giggles and Ryan’s wonderful smile.
“I leave you alone for two minutes and I find you by the dog collars.” Nick sighed as he spotted them, looking very much like an annoyed parent.
“Go away! We’re helping Abi to find a Christmas present for you.”
“Dylan!” Abi hissed at him, biting her lip to not burst out in laughter.
“If it’s a gift you’re not supposed to tell him, you ruined the surprise.” Ryan said in that tone that made Dylan unsure if he was serious or not.
“Right, my bad. Well, since we’re already here I might as well get one for myself, does red suit me?”
“You’re a menace.” Ryan said and dragged him away with Abi’s help. Nick muttered something under his breath but was smiling he too.

They exited the store after they plucked the shelves clean from beef jerky, some local elk jerky and a vegan variant made from beets that Abi insisted that they tried. She opened the pack as they exited the store, only make a face at the scent. No wonder it was cheap.
“That’s awful.” She said and passed the bag to Nick.
“Maybe they taste better than they smell?” He said before making a similar grimace and passing the bag to Ryan who quickly showed it into Dylan’s arms. The bag smelled strongly of compost and mixed matched spices and Dylan could sense it even before it was passed to him.
“I thought biological warfare was considered to be a warcrime?” He huffed, looking around for a bin nearby, treating the jerky as chemical waste until he found one. An elderly woman watched their spectacle go down and she let out a small chuckle.
“Is that perhaps the Beet Jerky?” She asked with a knowing smile, putting down her heavy bags to pull out an umbrella. Her silvery hair that once was black was pulled into a tight bun, several heavy earrings dangled from her ears, matching the two silvery necklaces she wore. She looked like an elderly biker, her face weathered, her hands fumbling with the umbrella.
“I take it that we’re not its first victims?” Dylan chuckled. The lady had four bags that looked to be very heavy, there was no way she would be able to hold them and the umbrella.
“Definitely not. They have been on sale for almost 6 months and Mr. Axford refuses to take them off the shelves.” She said, looking at her bags then the rain, painting a quite sad picture of herself. It was still pouring down outside; Abi pulled her hood over her hair and Nick looked ready to bolt towards the car. Ryan patiently waited on Dylan, a questioning frown on his face.
“Do you need a hand with those bags?” Dylan asked the lady, who looked up at him in surprise.
“Oh, you don’t have to.” She waved him off, looking at out at the rain again. “But it would be kind of you. My nephew was supposed to help me carry but he seems to have dozed off in the car.” Dylan nodded at Nick and Abi to start to walking.
“I’d be happy to help.” Dylan said with a smile, handing over his one bag to Ryan, pulling up his hood to shield against the rain. “I’ll meet you at the car.” He easily grabbed all four bags, surprised with how heavy they were and how easily it was for him to lift them. Just like when he lifted Ryan. That night… Nope not right now, focus, brain, focus! They walked to the woman’s car, the sound of rain smattering against the umbrella. Dylan ducked his head under the umbrella that the woman struggled to hold high enough for someone of his height, and they both chuckled at it. It wasn’t a far walk, but the lady was thankful, and it made her smile brightly. The rest of the pack was about 30ft away, all of them keeping a close eye on him as they hauled their groceries into the trunk. The woman walked up to a pick-up, a bit banged up but fully functional. Dylan spotted a silhouette lounging in the passenger seat.
“Just toss the bags onto my nephew, he knows what to do with them. And thank you, you’re a sweetheart.” The woman said as she walked around to the car, tapping onto the passenger’s window, glaring at the boy, man, behind the window. “Mark! Wake up!” The dude almost jumped out of his seat, banging something as a deep thud was heard. Dylan chuckled, putting down two bags so he could hand over them steadily with two hands. The man named Mark opened the door and reached for the bag Dylan was handing over, then he froze in his tracks, staring at Dylan with wide, fearful eyes. The last time Dylan saw that face, it was covered in blood, his blood.

It was one of them.
One of the hunters, the young man who took the smart decision to run. There was no doubt that he recognized Dylan, he was terrified. He sported a black eye, a cut lip and some scratches, otherwise he looked fine. Cleanshaven, smelling less of garbage and more of deodorant. More like a person. He was still wearing a backwards cap, but a different one. Dylan didn’t know what to say. What do you even say to a man that you almost killed? Especially after he watched you explode into a monster and break the bones of his friends. Did the hunters follow them here? Was this guy armed?
“Oh, darn it.” The woman said, snapping them both out of their shock. “I forgot the eggs; I’ll be back in a minute.” Mark’s face turned pale, and he opened his mouth to speak up, to call for help, to beg her to stay. Dylan was quicker. Separate them, take them out one by one.
“No problem! I’ll help him with the bags.” He said, cutting of whatever plea Mark tried to word. Dylan did a quick scan of the parking lot. Empty, except for his three pack members. Family. Mine. Safe. Dylan wanted to let Mark go. He didn’t want to hurt anyone; he didn’t want to scare anyone. These people spoke the language of violence, syllables of blood and letters of sharp metal and he refused to answer with sentences made of teeth and claws. Dylan didn’t want to hurt anyone.

The wolf however, was suddenly confronted with a threat, shock turning to fear turning to sheer fury. They broke into MY house, stepped on MY ground, broke MY things, scared MY family, spoke with knives and chains and fists. He bared his teeth, the anger radiating off him, his eyes turning yellow, the rage fuelling the primal fear in Mark. They hurt Nick, they hurt Abi, they hurt Emma, they tried to harm Ryan. They went after mom. A primal growl rolled up his throat, he let the bag fall to the ground, not caring if something broke, and he leaned closer to the terrified man trapped in the car. No way to run. Enemy. Danger. The rain smattered against the roof of the car. His teeth itched; his jaw tensed. With every heartbeat the pressure under his skin grew, hot blood pumping infection through his veins, the wolf threatening to burst through his human facade. He could only hear the blood rushing in his ears, every beat sending out a painful tremor of primal rage. The rain masked so many scents, but not the new scent of fear radiating of this human. This prey. He knew that scent and couldn’t wait to taste it.

Dylan lunged for his throat.

Chapter 20: Curse

Chapter Text

Dylan lunged for Mark’s throat and wrapped his hand around his neck, ready to drag him out of the car, crush his throat under his claws or slam his head into the dashboard, again, again and again until the hunter stopped moving. A growl rolled up his throat, blood thundering in his ears deafening him against the world, ants crawling under his skin, numbing his sense of touch. Mark only managed to let out a wheeze as he tried to call for help, gripping Dylan’s hand and attempting to pry his fingers from his throat. Dylan bared his teeth, leaning closer, preparing to sink his teeth into living skin, warm flesh, to rip and tear, riptearriptearriptear. Until the threat was gone. What threat? Dylan moved his gaze from his throat to his eyes. Scared golden yellow meeting deep blue, widened in fear, panicked, pleading. Terrified, unarmed, and backed into a corner. Mark was just as scared as Dylan himself. No threat, only prey. Not prey, person. Dylan was hurting someone. He was growling at someone, attacking someone. What was he doing?! He grit his teeth, exhaling sharply, forcing himself to loosen the grip around Mark’s throat. The rain was smattering against the car’s roof, a noise that he tried to focus on. The blood was rushing in his ears as his heart pumped fear through his body. Not rage. He took a deep breath, feeling one of the scents from the night of the break-in, remembering the fear, remembering how he had to fight. Protect. But not now. He didn’t need to fight; he didn’t need to protect. The tremble in his jaws was back, spreading through his body as shivers of fear, shock, panic. Electricity shooting through his nerves, setting the infection on fire, shocking the wolf awake. Fight or flight. A deep, familiar pain grew in his chest as something fought to get out, his ribs bending but not breaking, yet. It yearned to be free, fuel by the fear, by the memories of being helpless. He didn’t need to do any of it. He was okay. Dylan took another deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest, reinforcing the cage that held the wolf. He was okay. He felt sick. The rain was smattering against the roof. His ribs were holding strong. He took another deep breath. The rain was smattering against the roof.

Just as footsteps was smattering against the asphalt. Someone collided with Dylan, tackling him, tearing him away from Mark, sending him to the wet asphalt that scraped his skin, knocked his head into the ground, pain shooting through his skull, air pushing out of his lungs. The world was white stars and suffocation before he managed to get a breath into his lungs, the scent of wolf following it.
“Dylan! What is wrong with you?!” Nick growled in his ear, grabbing his collar to separate his face from the asphalt.
“Want it in chronological or alphabetical order?” Dylan groaned into a concerned face with glowing green eyes. “He’s a hunter. I’m an idiot. Let me die in peace like the rabid mutt I am.” The word “hunter” had the same power as the lash of a whip, echoing across the lot, killing all noise but the rain.
“Nick got shoved away as Ryan took his place, the nervousness replaced by concern, the hands gripping his collar replaced with hands on his shoulders.
“Is he one of the hunters who broke into your house?” Ryan silently asked, sounding a bit too calm about it all, tiny sparks of amber flashing in his eyes. Well, sh*t. This escalated quickly. The nervous energy he just stomped out reignited and spread like wildfire, and he started it. This was his fault. He was being a burden again. Don’t think about that, focus on how to fix it. He got to his feet, his head pounding with pain, his clothes wet and dirty, continuing to get soaked by the rain. He could almost taste iron. Dylan grabbed Ryan’s arm, to prevent Ryan from lunging at Mark as Dylan nodded.
“He’s one of them.” He said and tightened his grip on Ryan’s arm as a growl rolled up his throat. Four pairs of wolf eyes stared at Mark.

Many things happened at once. Mark lunged from his seat, pushing Abi out of the way, into a car, and ran as if the devil hunted him. The alarm of the bumped car set off, drawing more attention onto them. Nick let out a furious growl, thankfully drowned by the alarm, and bolted after Mark, setting off a chain reaction in the pack, a spark igniting the explosion. Hunt. All three of them followed, seeing something run, having to chase it down. Abi, kind, sweet, Abi, with red in her eyes and teeth bared as the wolf took charge. Ryan, furious, vengeful, chasing down whoever dared to hurt Dylan. Nick, leading the charge only because the prey dared to hurt Abi. And Dylan, overwhelmed by that primal urge, to chase, to catch, to run. It was just like when they chased the truck after the first full moon. Except their quarry had a pulse this time. Pulse, legs, breath, scent. Flesh. Blood. Rain in his face, eyes keyed onto Mark’s back as he darted down the parking lot. When they chased after a car, he didn’t hear its breaths, smell its fear, see the terror in its eyes. He wasn’t running, energy crackling through his body. His blood felt so hot, full of exciting energy which wanted to run and chase and hunt. Last time, it was just after the full moon. Now, it was three days away. He lost himself. Chasing down their prey, running between cars, crossing the street without looking, making a car break and honk at them. Dylan slid over the hood, if he wasn’t busy with trying to wrestle a wolf in his head, he’d appreciate how cool it looked. Mark disappeared around a corner of something that looked like a mechanic shop, Nick on his heels, Ryan and Abi chasing after him. Dylan following. The rain washed away most scents, making it hard to even follow Ryan’s track. This needed to stop. It needed to stop. Someone would get hurt. Mark scaled a fence with surprising nimbleness, entering a narrow alley between two buildings, tearing down trashcans and rubble in his path, everything to hinder his pursuers.
“Stop!” Dylan yelled, his voice barely carrying, a growl underlining his words. Ryan was the only one who paid him any attention, glancing over his shoulder, amber eyes glowing. You’re with me? He wanted Dylan to follow. Run with us, hunt with us. Nick didn’t care about scaling the fence, he went through it, tearing the rusted metal by tackling it. Abi ran past him, smaller and nimbler, dodging the trash Mark tore through to slow them down. They were too fast. They would tear Mark to shreds if he didn’t do anything. Where did this alley lead? There must be a way to intercept Mark’s path. Dylan scanned its walls, seeing no way out that wasn’t a fire exit. The alley turned left, so if he went around the building, he would find the end of it. If Dylan only could get to Mark before Nick, Abi and Ryan… Then maybe… He bolted down the sidewalk, mentally calculating where the alley would end. Past a brick wall filled with graffiti and old posters, his sneakers getting soaked when he stepped in puddles, splashing onto a rugged man taking a smoke that cursed at him as he crashed past. Dylan just hoped that his calculations were correct… If the alley didn’t lead to where he guessed, then he’d never reach them in time. His lungs burned, not like when he was turned, this was exhaustion. That he managed to sprint for this long was a miracle. His legs burned with his lungs as he pushed himself to keep running, find Mark, protect. Stop the violence. The brick wall turned into a boarded fence, patched with plywood on places. Where was the exit to the alley? Did he guess wrong? He could hear footfalls approaching, but from where? Then he saw it, on one of the boards, hinges. Not a second too late as the concealed door swung open, Mark shooting out of it. Dylan lunged and grabbed him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Asphalt dug into Dylan’s elbows, knee, and shoulder for the second time that day.
“Get the f*ck off me!” Mark yelled, elbowing his ribs. Please just stop squirming… Dylan put a knee onto his chest, turning to face Nick as he dashed out from the door, teeth bared, eyes glowing, ready to bite, lunge, rip, tear…
“STOP!” Dylan yelled, this time finding words, shocking Nick enough to snap out of it. Abi tumbled into him with a small yelp, thankfully not with enough force to send them to the ground. Ryan was the last one who exited the door, relief washing over his face as he spotted Dylan.
“Can we please stop chasing things!?” Dylan panted, winded from the mad dash. “Just… calm down. Please.” He moved his gaze to the hunter on the ground, scrapes on his cheek, fear, anger, and confusion in his eyes. His dirt blonde hair tousled, his cap nowhere to be seen.
“Get off me, dog.” Mark hissed through gritted teeth, clenching his fist, heavy rings on his fingers. They needed answers. Many answers that Mark probably had so even when violence and force was necessary, Dylan hated that he had to use it.
“I get off you when we get some answers. Why are you hunting us?” Dylan said, not moving but making sure to not put too much weight on Mark’s chest.
“Because you kill people!” Mark spat back, as if he found the question unbelievable. “Because you’re blood-thirsty monsters!”
“That’s insane!” Ryan spoke up, still winded from the chase. “They tried to kill us! It was them or us. We only killed Silas because we thought it would stop this curse.”
“Who the f*ck is Silas?” Mark asked, visibly confused. The pack exchanged questioning looks. Was he lying? Something made Dylan believe him.
“The original werewolf…?” Ryan offered, only for Mark to shrug.
“Who the f*ck cares about the original?” Something wasn’t adding up. Mark seemed to catch their confusion, which only added to his own.

A phone rang, an unfamiliar tune playing, coming from Mark’s pocket.
“It’s probably my aunt. She will start to worry if I don’t pick up.” Mark explained, making a very fair point. f*ck. “She’ll have the rest of my family here in two minutes.” He added and the phone rang again.
“Should we let him answer?” Ryan asked out loud.
“It’s not like we have a plan to begin with.” Dylan sighed. “I lost control. I was caught off guard.” This was all his fault. If he just minded his own business, if he wasn’t such a mess, this would never have happened.
“We all were.” Nick added, running fingers through his wet hair, taking deep breaths. “I lost it too.”
“Answer it.” Ryan sighed, nodding for Dylan to back. There was something here that was missing. Why were the hunters attacking? Why were they trying to capture them? He grabbed Mark’s wrist as he reached for the phone.
“I didn’t mean to attack you like that. I just want to apologize. Before you send the cavalry onto us, just know that we’re all sorry. This is all new for us, we’re trying to figure it out.” Dylan said, standing up and pulling Mark with him, both covered in dirt and rainwater. Dylan felt water soak into his socks. The rest of the pack quickly voiced their apologies. For hunting, running, tackling, growling, baring teeth. Scaring. Mark gave them all an odd look before he answered his phone, taking a step away from them.
“Hi auntie.” There was yelling on the other side. “Yeah, I know, I know, I just saw Kipling’s son slashing the tires to a car and this dude… What was you name again?” He looked at Dylan but cut him off before he managed to answer. “… Sam? Yeah, he who helped with your bags. We ran after the lil’ sh*t but he scaled a fence and got away.” Dylan couldn’t understand what he was hearing. Mark was lying, to cover for them. What did he want from them? What could he gain from this? There must be some ulterior motive to this. Dylan took a step back, grabbing Ryan’s hand, desperately needing something to steady himself with.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, his voice hushed, soothing. Dylan nodded, rolling a sore shoulder.
“Maybe a bruise, nothing more.” And a headache from Nick smashing his head onto the pavement.
“You’re bleeding.” Ryan touched his temple, his fingers stained with red. Dylan stared at it, unable to process what he saw. That explained why he could only smell blood and sweat.
“f*ck, mate.” Nick gasped, taking a step closer, he and Ryan inspecting this mysterious wound on his skull. “I think that’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Mark raised his voice, getting their attention again.
“Yeah, I’m on my way back. Give me like, three minutes. See ya.” Mark ended the call, giving them a cautious look as he slowly backed, then turned and started to walk.
“Wait! Why did you lie for us?” Dylan asked, suspicious, catching up with him, dragging Ryan with him. “What do you want from us?” Mark bit his lip, thinking, pondering his options.
“I want you to break the curse.” He said, adamantly.
“We tried to break the curse. It didn’t work!” Ryan immediately said, frustration in his voice. “Silas is gone, so we should be cured, but we’re not.”
“Again, who the f*ck is this Silas?” Mark repeated, almost annoyed. Was he playing dumb, or did he really not know?
“The first werewolf.” Ryan said, as if he explained something for a child. “As the poem says!”
“Yeah, I know the sh*tty poem. ‘No longer shall you face this ghast, or fear the echoes of voices past.’ We all know it.”
“That’s not the poem we have.” Dylan realized. He grabbed Mark’s shoulder, meeting his gaze. “You said you want to break the curse, what curse? Explain it to me like I’m a five-year-old who knows nothing about this.” Not too far from the truth. Mark slowly gripped Dylan’s wrist, moving it from his shoulder.
“The curse that you beasts have put on my bloodline. The one that prevents…” He was cut off by a car honking, and a familiar pick-up pulled up next to them, Mark’s aunt rolling down the window with an annoyed look. Mark sighed, putting his hand on the doorhandle, to escape, to get out. To leave without giving them any answers. He turned around, words quickly leaving his lips.

“The curse that prevents our deceased from resting.”

Chapter 21: Chill

Chapter Text

The four of them stood silent in the rain as the truck sped off, carrying their answers with it. and leaving only bigger questions than before.
“Well, that gave exactly zero insight.” Dylan muttered as the truck turned around the corner. A shiver ran down his spine, rain still pattered the top of his head and chilled him to the bone. It was still raining, not as heavily but they were already soaked to the skin. The water started to itch, creep under clothes and Dylan felt like it ran under his skin, freezing, tiring him out.
“We have something to go on, I think.” Ryan muttered, his teeth chattering. Dylan glanced over the pack, Abi’s lips started to turn blue, Ryan was shivering, and Nick looked too much like that night in August. Where everything went wrong. At least they knew what was wrong this time.
“Am I the only one that’s freezing?” Abi asked, wrapping her arms around herself, desperately trying to conserve some heat. Nick shook his head as an answer, stepping closer to them.
“Let’s hurry back to the car.” He said, not needing to elaborate. Dylan was exhausted, hungry, headache that was just increasing, pounding through his head. At least he wasn’t bleeding anymore. Nick started the car as soon as they got in, blasting the AC on high temperature, making sure that his fingers were working before he started to drive. The car ride was spent in relative silence, only broken by the sound of shivering and chattering teeth. Dylan quickly passed out with his head on Ryan’s shoulder. He only came to when the car stopped, his head heavy with fog and it felts like his joints were filled with ice. At least the rain had stopped. Ryan, Nick, and Abi seemed tired and cold as well, Ryan shivering and Abi’s lips taking on a blue colour, despite the blasting AC. Someone knocked on the window before Dylan had time to open the door, startling them all.
“You look like sh*t.” Emma hollered through the window, almost ripping the door open, her expression turning from teasing to worry. “What the hell happened to you?” She sniffed the air, catching the scent of dried blood. “Dylan, are you bleeding?” Her worry was… overwhelming. Dylan got out of the car with a groan, into a world that felt foggy, distant. Cold. Hands were on his shoulders; familiar scents filled his lungs. Everything was so far away…
“Get inside, get them warm, now!”
“You guys are soaked, what were you doing out in the rain?”
“Towels, get some towels, now!” Dylan didn’t know who was speaking. He knew it was family, packmates, safety. It was like a fever dream. Soaring, absent, cold. How the rest of the pack managed to get enough information from them to deduce what had happened were quite a marvel. Dylan only managed to speak a couple of words with his teeth chattering. A few of them were to his mom, a reassurance that he wasn’t dying (he hoped), an explanation that water wasn’t good for werewolves and that they needed to get dry and warm. That sent her into action, barking orders left and right. No one dared to oppose her.

They managed to get into dry clothes and were placed in front of the fireplace, a cup of hot chocolate was put into their hands, and they were covered in blankets and hugs from the rest of the pack. Dylan didn’t complain, it was incredibly nice to just cuddle up, bury your face in the scent of safety, family, home and defrost his muscles and head. Especially with Ryan next to him, and Kaitlyn cuddled up between them, as a stubborn third wheel heater. Right now, they needed the warmth. Dylan heard Max go on about how he was right, how he repeated the words “I told you so” and how Laura groaned at him.
“Yes, you were right.” She sighed, kissing his cheek. “For how long will you drag that out?”
“I don’t know, until it becomes the death of me?”
“Well, that will be quick.” Dylan muttered, finally finding his words, the warmth defrosting his frozen thoughts. Kaitlyn awoke from her place, crashing into his side, wrapping her arms around him. He almost spilled his chocolate.
“He’s alive!” She hollered into the blanket covering his shoulders, her voice muffled by the fabric. Another pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind, Jacob hugging him as well. It made Dylan feel all warm and fuzzy. Someone cared for him.
“It lives!” Jacob said with a relieved laugh.
“Y-you won’t get rid of us that easily.” Ryan muttered, still shivering a bit. Kaitlyn wrapped an arm around him as well, pulling them both into a hug.
“Don’t run through the rain anymore, okay?” She said, giving them a squeeze to empathize her point. Dylan leaned his head to hers, just as Ryan did, moving to bury his face their mixed scents. Safe. He closed his eyes, taking some deep breaths, letting the fuzzy feeling of belonging calm him. He felt whole. Calm. Safe. Ryan, Kaitlyn, pack. Family.
“Are you nuzzling into my hair?” Kaitlyn asked, a bit weirded out, but not moving. Even with all social anxiety that made him second-guess his judgement, Dylan knew that this behaviour wasn’t following any social norms. He immediately sat up, feeling a blush of shame creep onto his cheeks. Humans. Don’t. Sniff. Friends. These instincts had no consideration for human boundaries. As if he wasn’t awkward enough already with too many worries and thoughts to overthink.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Wolf-brain thinks you smell good.” He felt like he at least owed her somewhat of an explanation. “It actually thinks all of you smell good.”
“Thank f*ck it isn’t only me!” Emma sighed loudly in relief. There were more sighs in agreement.
“I thought I was going insane.” Emma added. “Why haven’t we written this down?” Right. They had a document.
“Because the holy aura of wi-fi cannot reach us in these godforsaken woods.” Max deadpanned, trying to fish up the last marshmallow from his cup.
“Ah, yes. The wi-fi, the power needed to use pen and paper. Technology sure works in mysterious ways.” Dylan said, hearing Ryan snort a laugh.
“That is a fair point. I stand corrected.” Max admitted.
“Or we just write off-line until we can update the shared document.” Kaitlyn pointed out. Laura got up with a grunt to fetch her laptop.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in their new den of pillows and blankets, discussing, cataloguing, and updating their notes. Dylan slowly found himself dozing off, his head still hurting together with the scrapes and bruises from being tackled into the ground. He thought it would hurt more. He remembered scraping his palm on the asphalt, but now, there wasn’t a scratch on his skin. It would be cool if it didn’t make him feel like so monstrous. Could he even be called human anymore? Somewhere between discussing potential transformation triggers and Jacob tossing pillows at Laura to annoy her, Dylan fell asleep. First with his head leaning onto Kaitlyn’s, then he came too with his head on Ryan’s lap and decided that being asleep was much nicer than being awake, so he went back to sleep. Calm, restful sleep. The sound of Ryan’s pulse in his ear, the smell of him in his lungs. Mine. Safe. This, the pack, Ryan, being together, calmed the constant anxiety in his blood. The ants under his skin, the itch in his teeth, the needy anxiousness of being abandoned and alone. Maybe this was something he needed now? To be with his pack? He knew that it was torture to be alone, especially during the days leading up to the full moon. It was easier this time than last. No waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, sweat covering his skin, muscles filled with nervous energy, rending him unable to relax, to rest, to sleep. Now, he was at peace. It was even easier than before everything started. He had a boyfriend. A happy smile crept onto his lips. Mine. His boyfriend. His boyfriend to hug and kiss. And other things.

Dylan woke up with his head in Ryan’s lap, and Kaitlyn’s fingers in his hair, tugging gently at some strands. His hair felt… weird. In disarray. When he groggily looked up to some giggles, he realized that Kaitlyn was in the process of teaching Ryan how to braid. His hair was filled with tiny braids.
“Just make me look pretty.” Dylan muttered, surrendering to the braid assault, and lying down again, nuzzling into the fabric of Ryan’s jeans.
“You already are.” Ryan said, running his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with his nails. Damn that felt nice. He leaned his head with a content growl or groan, wishing he could ask Ryan to touch him more. Later.
“Who’s a good boy?” Ryan joked, scratching his head. Dylan kicked with his foot for comedic effect, disturbing someone who probably used it as a pillow or footrest. It made people laugh, that was the important part.
“Weirdos.” Kaitlyn muttered, shaking her head.
“Mind your damn business.” Dylan said, moving to untangle one of many braids in his hair. It was a tangled mess. “What have you done to me?”
“Nothing you didn’t deserve.” Kaitlyn answered, getting up with Nick when dinner was mentioned.
“Fair point.”

They had tomorrow to prepare, then the day after that their eyes would shift colour and the focus would be on… managing the night. It wasn’t decided if they should split up like last moon, hide in the forest, lock themselves up in the lodge or pull a home-alone and booby trap the quarry for potential hunters. They couldn’t decide. Dylan couldn’t decide what he preferred, if he was with Ryan, he would hopefully be okay. Mark’s behaviour still puzzled him. What curse did he mean? The only curse they knew about was broken, probably, and the one Mark talked about was, apparently, still bothering people, allegedly. Somehow. Dylan bit his lip, thinking about the poem Mark recited.

“No longer shall you face this ghast,
Or fear the echoes of voices past.”

There was something else he said, something about the dead not being able to rest. Was this the same curse that affected the hag? Two curses seemed… unlikely and yet, werewolves seemed unlikely as well but here they were. Howling at the moon and chasing cars.
“I can see you thinking.” Ryan said, sitting next to him, glancing at him with a worried look. Dylan wasn’t surprised, he could almost see himself thinking.
“I just keep thinking about what Mark said. Especially the reason to why they’re hunting us. As far as I know, we didn’t put a f*cking curse on them. Unless someone here has a hobby of practicing witchcraft, which, freedom of religion and all that, but please don’t curse anyone if they come after your pack with shotguns.”
“Well, there goes my Saturday plans.” Max joked.
“If we only could just… sit down and talk.” Abi sighed. “Everything feels like a big misunderstanding, you know?” It really did. Could a talk really solve everything? It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
“There’s still no guarantee that they would believe us.” Laura said. She was right about that. Dylan remembered the hatred in that woman’s eyes, he wished he knew what fuelled it. If they only could explain themselves. Maybe they should try to capture a hunter? Travis might shoot them himself if they kidnapped someone, but if someone was ready to eat a bullet it would be for a good cause. Unless it was silver.

This night wasn’t spend cuddled together as a nest of snakes. Jacob had managed to get a kink in his neck from sleeping on the floor and Dylan didn’t want to wake up with Nick’s feet in his face again. It was also nice to spend some time alone with Ryan. It did wake the wolf who occupied Dylan’s frontal lobe with urges of biting, marking, growling… They didn’t turn on the light. The moon was shining in through the window again, reminding them of what was to come. It reflected beautifully in Ryan’s eyes, shone onto his skin, turning his shapes into a desert in the night. Silver moon light dancing on his neck, unmarked neck. It caught Dylan’s eye when Ryan pulled his shirt over his head, getting ready for bed. The skin was bare. Empty. Unmarked. How distasteful. Ryan met his gaze, and it was first then Dylan realized that he was staring. Heat rushed to his face as a blush grew on his cheeks. At least he wasn’t drooling.
“Just enjoying the view.” He said, almost stuttering, not able to put on the blasé mask in time. Ryan smiled, tossing his shirt onto the growing pile of dirty laundry before walking up to Dylan, gently running his fingers up his arm, tracing the wolf tattoo.
“So am I.” Ryan said, cupping Dylan’s face with one hand, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “Your eyes are golden when they catch the moonlight.” The moonlight left Ryan’s eyes in shadow; the amber hidden in that deep, mysterious brown. Dylan moved his head, grabbing Ryan’s hand and pressing his lips to his knuckles in a soft kiss. He could smell the ink from the notetaking, a faint scent of coffee and everything that was Ryan. His teeth itched, and he placed a second kiss on his hand, then his wrist, feeling the pulse against his lips. Blood matching his, carrying the same infection, making him kin. Dylan ran his fingers up Ryan’s arm, placing another kiss on his shoulder, tracing his collarbone with soft pecks, chasing that wonderful smell as he trailed kissed up his neck, over the place where he placed his bitemark. It wasn’t there anymore, and it caused a strange, longing sadness in Dylan’s chest, like he lost something valuable.
“I really want to bite you again.” Dylan admitted, whispering the words only a breath away from where the bitemark should be. All inhibitions were lowered, burned down by the infection, chewed to pieces by the wolf. He realized how weird his comment was as he said it, and he mentally kicked himself for it, leaning away as uncertainty wrapped its ugly tentacles around him.
“What’s stopping you?” Ryan said, leaning into the suggestion, a moonlight catching an amber glint in his eye. How could he be that beautiful?
“Nerves? Doubts about consent? The current economy?” Ryan wasn’t convinced, a look of concern in his eyes. Talk to me. Tell me what’s troubling you. Please. Dylan sighed and leaned their foreheads together, taking a moment to just breathe.
“It’s the fact that biting someone, no, marking someone is such a need it drives me crazy. It feels weird.” He felt Ryan run his fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp.
“Dyl, I want you to bite me again.” Ryan said gently grabbed his chin, tilting his head so their eyes met. “But not because you feel like you have to, because you want to.” He traced Dylan’s lower lip with his thumb, leaning forward and capturing his lips in a soft kiss. The wolf crashed through Dylan’s mental barriers, clearing any doubts, and bringing that primal hunger with it.
“I want to.” He gasped, wrapping his arms around Ryan as he kissed him again. The doubts and anxiety seemed so far away when he could taste Ryan’s breath, melt into the kiss with a hungry moan, taste him properly, lips, tongue, teeth… His taste, the feel of his skin under his nails, his scent… Dylan wanted to memorize very aspect that was Ryan, wrap the fuzzy feeling up in a blanket and keep it. Protect it. Claim it. Mine.

Ryan splayed his fingers on Dylan’s chest, pushing closer, running a hand down his chest, sneaking it under his shirt, fingers trailing up his belly, nails scratching his chest, the light pain acting like a spark that ignited that smouldering fire in his belly, his heartbeat spreading the warmth in his veins. Ryan had already tugged his shirt half-way over his head, so Dylan paused to pull it off, not caring where it fell. How was it possible that one person could make you feel like this? Ryan’s fingers felt like electricity on his skin. When did his back reach the wall? Dylan tried to hold back the growls that grew in his chest, cursing silently when one escaped as Ryan placed kisses along his jawline, his warm form pressing him up against the wall. The growling wasn’t what annoyed him, it was his lack of control. If he couldn’t control his voice, what else would he lose control over? Ryan let out a growl of his own, close to Dylan’s ear, and Dylan gasped audibly when a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. The sound went directly to the wolf, to itching teeth, clawing fingers, and growling voices.
“Don’t you dare silence yourself.” Ryan whispered, a smile in his voice. Dylan wanted to quip back with something funny and genius. But he was busy, letting out a growl as he crashed his lips together with Ryan’s, biting his lower lip, drinking him in. He cupped his hand around his neck, dragging his nails through his hair, pulling him closer, letting their shapes slot together. How could he taste so good? Dylan wanted closer, the taste of iron hitting his tongue, the calm, earthy scent that was Ryan filling his lungs. He stepped away from the wall, only to spin around and push Ryan up against it instead. Ryan leaned his head as Dylan prepped his neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, chasing that perfect spot to place a bite, Ryan’s fingers running through his hair, tugging, guiding. Dylan could’ve spent hours exploring Ryan’s skin. Tasting, kissing, nibbling. Feeling his racing pulse against his lips. A needy noise escaped Ryan, something akin to a whine. Dylan felt fingers clench in his hair, a question, an invitation. Yours? Dylan felt something in his jaw crack as he sunk his sharp teeth into that perfect spot, an involuntary moan leaving his throat, accepting the invitation. Mine. The way Ryan gasped fed the fire in his blood and damn he wanted to push him down onto the bed and get closer, closer, closer. Iron on his tongue, that itching urge in his teeth satisfied. He kissed the bite, licking, cleaning away the drops of blood, making sure that it stopped bleeding before he backed to admire his handiwork. Should he feel so proud? Mine. Ryan ran his fingers over his neck, a small smile on his lips as he traced the mark. The amber in his eyes almost glowed.
“Now you’re mine.” Dylan purred, kissing the bite again, a chuckle escaping Ryan.
“I already was.” He answered, guiding Dylan into another kiss. Someone (Abi?) ran down the stairs, the loud footsteps an annoyance in the back of Dylan’s mind. The rest of the world could be on fire, a bomb could hit them, and he wouldn’t notice. The only thing that mattered was Ryan, the taste of his lips, the mark on his neck, his nails clawing at his back.

Someone knocked loudly on their door. A furious, frustrated growl escaped Dylan before he could help himself. He charged to the door, slamming it open, annoyance boiling his blood. How dared anyone interrupt? Kaitlyn stood outside, glaring at him. Anger over-wrote any sense Dylan had, and he towered over Kaitlyn, baring his teeth with a thundering growl. f*ck off.

She slapped his cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it did restart Dylan’s system. Kaitlyn glared at him yellow flashing in her eyes, and she just gave him a look to turn his blood from boiling to ice. He let out an involuntary whine. She rolled her eyes.
“A familiar pick-up just pulled up outside. Get your dicks into your pants and your human heads onto your shoulders.” She said sternly. “The hunters are here.”

Chapter 22: Notes

Chapter Text

If blood could freeze to ice from dread, Dylan’s would’ve done so as Kaitlyn spoke those words. It was too soon. Were they here to wipe them out before the moon? While they were weak? Dylan could hear his blood rushing as he ran down the stairs with Kaitlyn and Ryan, who was pulling his shirt over his head, somehow without falling down the stairs. At least he’d die with his pants on. Jacob was pacing back and forth, hands running down his face, loudly asking “who, why now, what now?” Abi was staring out the window with Emma and Nick, all of them keyed onto the pick-up outside. Dylan hurried to the light switch, turning the lights off, bathing the hall in darkness.
“Easier for us to see out, harder for them to see in.” He said to Kaitlyn’s questioning look. Max and Laura came rushing down the stairs, Max ranting on about how he didn’t see, or feel, this coming. Dylan peeked out the window, remembering the rifles the hunters were wielding. There was the pick-up, the same one Dylan had jumped onto. It had claw marks, his claw marks. Ryan’s claw marks. Not that he could see that from this distance, through the darkness and light fog. The light in the interior light turned on, illuminating a figure inside. Prey. He squinted at the dark silhouette, trying to discern any details. Ryan joined him, their shoulders touching as both peered out the window, their breath fogging up the window. Amber flashed in his eyes, slowly taking over the dark colour of his irises. If there wasn’t a hunter outside, Dylan would’ve taken some time to just appreciate the beauty. Mine. His gaze wandered down to the mark he left on his neck, the crescent shape of his teeth. It wasn’t bleeding, but there was clearly a wound. His canines had punctured the skin, the other teeth leaving indents and bruised the area. It wasn’t as visible on Ryan’s darker skin, to Dylan’s relief, and disappointment. One side wanted to cover it before he died of embarrassment. Another primal side wanted to show it off, howl at the top of his lungs. MINE! See? Mine!

“It’s Mark.” Ryan said, pulling Dylan from his thoughts and snapping his yellow eyes to the pick-up with new focus. Nick and Abi to rushed to their side to get a better look, the four of them piling up on each other, fighting for a spot by the window. Dylan heard someone growl, on the edge to a bark. The figure in the car stepped out, the engine still on, headlights illuminating the yard. First now Dylan saw the backwards cap, the boots and vest with patches. Ryan had sharp eyes.
“What is he doing here?” Ryan asked the room, receiving no answer. The tension was high enough to fire an arrow with.
“Hello!” They had no problem hearing Mark yell from outside. “It’s Mark. I want to talk!” Dylan felt his eyes narrow, suspiciousness falling over him. This could obviously be a trap, even though Mark seemed to be the most understanding of the hunters. They met each other’s gaze, questioning silently if they believed him or not. Jacob’s halo eyes filled with worry, Emma’s red suspicious, Nick’s green vengeful…
“Max, any insight?” Kaitlyn asked, shifting her weight from side to side, her nervousness visible.
“I… I don’t know. There’s much going on here.” Max eyes shifted colour as he gazed out the window, trying to get a hold of the situation. “I don’t think he’s here to harm us.”
"Okay, but if he doesn't want to hurt us, then what the hell does he want?" Jacob asked, fear blending with frustration in his voice. His tone made the hair on Dylan’s neck stand up. Packmate scared. Danger.
"We should ask." Laura said, stepping towards the door. Abi put a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze with a silent message: "Be careful." Laura nodded and opened the door. No gunshots. No yelling. Dylan exhaled a breath he didn't realise he held.
"You want to talk? Then talk." Laura yelled, Max hovering behind her, Kaitlyn next to her, carefully peeking out the door. Dylan watched through the window how Mark took a couple of steps backwards. He didn't recognise them. Dylan cursed silently and stepped up to the door, Laura letting him through with an adamant gaze. They had his back. He could almost feel Ryan's breath on his neck, there was no need to look over his shoulder to see if he followed.

"Mark?" Dylan asked, slowly descending the stairs, smelling the air, Ryan, pine, prey, dirt, sap, petrol, oil, lake tilting his head to catch any odd sounds, wind rustling in the pines, car engine spinning, Mark's quickened breathing, Ryan's footsteps behind him. He saw Mark's expression clearly now, fear and worry, as well as a fresh black eye.
"Dylan? That's your name, right?" Mark asked. Dylan nodded in confirmation.
"Sorry again about, well, scaring you and chasing you down. We… have an issue when it comes to chasing things. I’m sometimes worried that I’ll chase down a car and bury it in my backyard.” Dylan said, mentally kicking himself. Why are you joking with this guy?! He broke into your house, try to be serious! Mark didn’t laugh, but Dylan saw how he clenched his teeth together, as if to stifle a laugh. “We didn't do that to your eye, did we? Are you okay?" Dylan quickly shot a questioning glance at Abi and Nick, who both shook their heads.
"No, it's nothing." Mark quickly deflected, taking to deep breath to calm his nerves.
“Sorry about scratching the paint.” Dylan said, breaking the silence, nodding to the truck. Mark followed his gaze, realizing what he meant.
“You’re the one that scratched dad?” That was Mark’s dad. Well good f*cking job, Dylan! This is how you earn someone’s trust, by mauling their parents, great job.
“I never wanted to hurt anyone.” Dylan shrugged, guilt crawling up his back. He could barely meet Mark’s gaze. Why the hell did he even mention that.
“He had it coming.” Mark almost spat. “You could’ve killed me twice now. I would’ve deserved it. But you didn’t. Consider this a peace offering.” He grabbed something from the front seat of his car. It was a stack of papers, folders, and notepads. It smelled like dust, coffee, old beer, and prey.
"I collected the information I could get my hands on. They keep most of it locked up.” Mark said, carefully handing over the stack to Dylan, retreating the moment it left his hands, eyes locked onto the pack behind Dylan. Dylan stared at the pile in his arms, not able to hold the stack with one hand to start examining it. Ryan picked up the top object, some sort of folded map.
"Why are you giving us this?" Ryan asked, unfolding the map that smelled heavily of dust. Dylan wrinkled his nose at it.
"I want you to help us break the curse." Mark answered, starting to retreat towards the truck as the pack crept closer, surrounding Dylan and the crazy pile of papers. “If the curse is broken before the full moon, our dead will finally be at rest, and there will be no reason to hunt you.”
“And if it isn’t broken?” Dylan asked, seeing the answer on Mark’s expression.
“You give us 48 hours to break a curse you couldn’t break for six years?” Kaitlyn said, audible frustration in her voice. Dylan could almost hear a growl.
“I just wany my dead brother to rest.” Mark said, a grim expression on his face. “He went missing around these parts three years ago. I don’t want him to suffer anymore.” He looked so tired. Haunted. Literally. The pieces slowly fell into place for Dylan. Travis didn’t recognize the hunters because they weren’t from North Kill. They never were from North Kill. They were family to the people that had gone missing. The people that had been mauled by the Hackett wolves. The missing hikers. The bodies in the lake.
“And the curse is preventing them from resting?” Dylan asked. Was it the same thing that held Eliza here? Or was Eliza the reason to why they were stuck in the first place?
“We think so, it’s in the pile. They just keep pleading for help, keep telling us to kill you. That you are monsters. It drives us insane, makes you do things.” Mark sighed. “I just want it to end.”
“We broke one curse.” Laura said, her voice raised so Mark could hear. She crossed her arms, a dangerous, yellow glint in her eyes. “We can break a second one.”

Nobody slept that night. They spent every moment studying the notes Mark gave them. It was a wild mix of scribbled notes, old maps, books with high-lighted sections, news articles, obituaries, pictures of what looked like random parts of the quarry and blueprints for the lodge. Even a pocket-sized Bible. It was… a lot to take in. They made coffee, broke into the snack stash, and prepared for an all-nighter as they buried themselves in the strange notes. First step: locate all information about the curse. Second step… They had yet to figure that out. Most of the information was related to the missing hikers. News articles with the name “Hackett” underlined, maps with red crossed scribbled onto them, photos of the missing hikers. The room slowly filled with the smell of burnt ozone as the table filled with notes, crumpled paper, and empty coffee mugs. Laura was almost crawling over the table to sort things into piles of importance and tossing the crumpled papers out of the way. Max followed the tossed papers with his gaze, as if he wanted to chase it. Dylan chewed on his pencil, staring at the words on the paper, trying to will them to make sense. It was agony to sit still and try to focus on reading. The wolf was walking in circles, chewing on the bars of its prison. Emma couldn’t sit still. She was pacing up and down the hall with notes, tossing the irrelevant ones to the side. Kaitlyn tossed things she found irrelevant through the room, growling quietly. Dylan bit down on the pencil. It was impossible to focus. The table was vibrating from Nick’s consistent leg-shaking. Jacob opened another pack of peanut-butter pops, the paper crinkling. Laura tossed a paper. Emma stomped down the hall. The table was shaking. Dylan bit the pencil in half. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. This was going to take a while.

The clock was 3 am when Emma came running down the hall, slamming a book onto the table with a triumphant grin.
“I found it! The poem for the curse!” Dylan awoke from his half-slumber, nudging Ryan awake as well. Laura quickly grabbed the book from Emma’s hands and read out loud.

“When the beast of moon’s hunt begins
There is no hiding from their sins
One by one, you’re led to slaughter
Curses souls, of son and daughter
And should your line a haunt befall
Armed with fire, burn them all
Spill blood of beast on their grave
For your mind and soul to save
No longer shall you face this ghast
Or fear the echoes of voices past

And if it’s with a death you’re faced
Burn their body with great haste
Perchance you’ll save their cursed soul
Before unrest takes its toll.”

Dylan felt a shiver race down his spine, a cold wind forcefully blowing by outside, rustling the pines and dragging waves over the lake. It felt like someone had opened a window, allowing the cold to creep in. But instead of the cold starting by your feet, nipping at your toes, this sent a chill right through the heart. The wolf hid, curled up deep inside his chest, something primeval scaring it. Something was watching them. The lights flickered.
“Just like in the cartoons.” Dylan muttered, grabbing Ryan’s hand for comfort.
“If the power goes out…” Emma started.
“I wouldn’t put those words out into the universe.” Max muttered. “It feels dangerous to give the cosmic forces any ideas.” Laura cleared her throat, making space on the table and gathering the pack around it. The notes were put in order with the poem in the centre.
“Eliza must be behind it all.” Laura said, trying to summarize this madness. “This is so similar to the poem about our curse. Look.” When she put the two pages next to each other, Dylan understood what she meant. Syllables, sentences, the pace, it was as if someone copied the first poem and re-wrote it to match their situation.
“Does it say to burn us with fire?” Abi asked, momentarily horrified.
“I f*cking hope it refers to the bodies.” Kaitlyn muttered. “So, we fish out the bodies from the lake, burn them, bury them, and bleed on their grave?” Silence fell. Somewhere a clock ticked. Once. Twice. Thrice.
“It can’t be that simple.” Ryan said. “No need for killing anyone? It seems too easy.”
“It’s not easy if you don’t have a supply of werewolf blood on tap. That’s why they want to capture us. They want our blood.” Dylan realized. “And here I thought it was only because I’m so dashingly handsome.”
“In what universe?” Emma teased. Ryan let out a groan, knowing fully that she’d unknowingly opened a can of worms.
“Well, it depends.” Dylan began. “First, we need to establish how handsomeness is measured. If we assume that my handsomeness can be measured with sight, and sight is dependent on light, we know that handsomeness is therefore dependent on light. Thus, we can somewhat calculate the amount of handsomeness by observing how light travel.” Emma looked at him as if he just sprouted two new heads. “Now, you didn’t ask how we measure handsomeness, but how it would work in another universe. Since the theory about parallel universes is yet to be proven, there’s a whole lot we need to assume. If there are multiple universes, and current theories suggest an infinite amount, there would be infinite ways this…”
“Nerd.” Emma cut off with a deadpan glare.
“You asked a question.” Dylan said with what he hoped was a perfect mix of an innocent smile and sh*t-eating grin.
“It’s three in the morning. I will strangle you.”
“Kinky.” There was a collective groan-chuckle around the table.
“Can you tell us in which universe the bodies are located?” Max asked in a desperate attempt to railroad the conversation back to the subject.
“I wish.” Dylan said, seeing how shoulders slumped around the table. “It feels like Travis would know.” He added, trying to be helpful. He always needed to be helpful, so people didn’t grow bored of him.
“I’m so not asking him.” Nick muttered, stifling a yawn.
“At least we have news to tell him.” Laura said, gathering the notes. “And we know how to possibly end this.” By exhuming corpses, burn them, and bleed on their graves? At least they didn’t need to kill anyone.

Hopefully.

Chapter 23: Lake

Chapter Text

Travis probably thought they’d gone insane, as they were all darting out of the lodge to greet him, hollering and waving. The poor man just managed to get out of the car when Max shoved a paper in his face, trying to explain what they’d discovered.
“Guys! Personal f*cking space, ever heard of it?” Kaitlyn barked from the stairs, her words making everyone stand down, even though Jacob was almost jumping on the spot, energy through the roof. Dylan felt the opposite. He’d fallen asleep the moment his head met the pillow and woke up when Kaitlyn banged on their door. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet, it felt as if his stomach tried to devour itself. It was a miracle he was able to separate his face from the pillow. And Ryan. The air was cold and unpleasantly damp against his bare arms, and he regretted being too lazy to pull on a jacket. Kaitlyn and Emma apparently woke up the second Travis pulled up outside, like two guard dogs ready to pounce at any threat. They pounced onto their pack instead, waking everyone up, dragging them from their warm, cosy slumber to terrorize Travis with the new information. Dragging as in physically dragging. Dylan leaned against the railing, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder, letting his calming scent fill his lungs. He rarely got angry; anger was a foreign feeling for him, that was why it was so difficult to handle the irritability the hungry wolf put in his head. There was a constant urge to bare his teeth at nothing, a twitch in his upper lip, a tremble in his jaws. Ryan stifled a yawn next to him, a bitemark still discernible on his neck. Dylan felt his teeth itch to place another one. He groaned, tired over the repetitive tangle of thoughts.
“Okay! Quiet down. One at a time.” Travis said, raising his voice in an attempt to untangle the mess that was their pack. “Ka, give me an overview of the situation.” Kaitlyn started to talk as they ascended the stairs, surrounded by the unruly mess that was the hungry, excited, and tired pack. Ryan grabbed his arm and made a beeline for the breakfast.
“I could eat a horse.” Dylan muttered as he stepped inside, into the smell of fried bacon, fresh toast, eggs and… He sniffed the air. Cereal. He could smell the opened package of cornflakes. He was too tired to care.

Since her arrival, Mrs Lenivy had besieged the kitchen, keeping a strict eye on their food supply, the snack stashes and, to Jacob’s and Nick’s horror, their secret stash of peanut butter pops, which they’d decimated last night. Nick had protested at first but was silently glad to be relieved of his duties. Anyone who tried to interfere was chased out, with a spray bottle of water. It was surprisingly effective. Mrs Lenivy made her mission clear; no one was allowed to go hungry, not on mom’s watch.

Dylan focused on breakfast and not snapping at anyone who tried to touch his food, feeling much better when his growling hunger was sated. For now. He reached to snatch the last slice of bacon, just to find another fork dragging it the opposite way. Emma met his gaze, firstly with amusem*nt, then as if a switch flipped, all human expression washed away, primal aggression igniting. There was sudden fire in Dylan’s veins, his muscles tensing. Specks of red flashed in Emma’s eyes, her gaze challenging, wordlessly sending a clear message. Mine. The line of her shoulders sharpened, tension strung as she stood her ground, a warning, spoken though tensed muscles, glaring eyes and a twitch in her upper lip. Dylan didn’t know why he answered the way he did, mirroring her stance, increasing the twitch to bared teeth and staring her down, slowly leaning forward to conquer ground, to push her back, to claim what belonged to him. A hand grabbed him by the scruff, forceful enough to shake him out of the stand-off, gently enough for him to understand its message of calm rather than violence. A surprised whine escaped his throat, as Ryan pulled him down into his seat, a quizzical and worried look on his face.
“Are you fighting over a strip of bacon?” Laura asked, eyebrow raised at their sudden aggression. Dylan felt his cheeks heat from embarrassment, the tension in his muscles released with a breath he didn’t remember holding. Abi had wrapped her arm around Emma’s waist to hold her back from lunging over the table.
“Just share it.” Ryan said, moving his hand from Dylan’s neck, fingers running down his back, leaving a trace of soft embers. Calm. More. Emma nodded in agreement, clearing her throat from the growls. It was more embarrassing than anything else. They fought over food like rabid dogs.
“This never happened.” Emma grumbled at the table, who went back to their food, some amused, some worried. Dylan relaxed in his seat, not remember when he stood up, still feeling the sting of irritability, of protective anger. What was he, five? Not wanting to share with his friends? He suppressed an internal groan, angrily chewing at the halved piece he fought for. He really thought he had better self-control, that he was able to wrestle the urges hunger brought forward. It bested him, he expected a wrestling match and forth came a flood, crashing through any barriers he tried to put up.
“I didn’t mean to...” He began and Emma immediately held up a finger to silence him.
“Nothing happened. Hush.” She muttered, not even looking up, a blush on her cheeks, wanting to forget what just happened.
“I’m sorry.” Dylan stage-whispered intentionally loud. He wanted to add a joke, something to make her laugh, to spread some joy. Now wasn’t the time.
“I forgive you if you forgive me and promise to erase this from your memory.” Emma said, jabbing her fork at him.
“Erase what? I have no idea what you’re implying.” He answered, more than happy to play along.
“This makes me feel better over tackling Kyle when he took my protein bar.” Jacob said to the pack, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning backwards, hunger quenched, for now.
“That does however feel like normal Jacob-behaviour to me.” Kaitlyn said, eyeing Laura who was frantically scribbling in her notebook, documenting the new data.
“I was hungry.” Jacob added, bearing the same look of a kicked puppy. Dylan was happy that some of them were amused, that laughter was heard. It made it easier to hide the terror he felt every time he lost control.

While clearing the table he overheard how Laura went through their findings, presenting the new poem to Travis. Exhuming corpses, burning them, and spilling blood on graves. Dylan didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t the hollow stare the sheriff now had. How he tensed every fibre of his being, digging his nails into his arms in a desperate attempt to ground himself, find some source of reality to anchor his existence to. Maybe to cut through the spiral of thoughts that snared you into pain and anxiety the more you struggled and the only way to get free was to stop struggling. Like a nest of strings and cables. Every thought a string, all of them tangled together into a mess that got tighter the more you pulled and fought. Dylan wished that he didn’t recognize that look as well as he did. He almost fell into a downward spiral when he overheard how Nick described the attack on Mark, how they chased him down. It was haunting to hear; Dylan didn’t recognize himself. He knew what he’d done, re remembered it all too well, but it all seemed so… alien. It was hard to accept, to understand. He'd hurt so many people. The same hands that carried dishes to the kitchen had been wrapped around a man’s throat with the intent to kill, had grabbed and tossed a man across the room. He hated it. Hated the violence, the memory of blood, the tang of iron on his tongue, the heat in his veins and his claws tearing though skin. How they drew blood, gore, and screams of agony from people. Humans. Could he even be called that anymore? Was he just a monster? f*ck he was back in the nest of tangled strings and cables, dragging him down into the freezing abyss. He busied himself with the dishes, dipping his hands in hot water to drag him back to the moment. If he felt like this, he couldn’t even imagine Travis’ pain. Six years of this madness. f*ck, if anyone needed a therapist it was him.

Dylan had to hand it to Travis, he was an excellent actor, never letting the mask slip to reveal the anxiety he spotted a glimpse of. He calmly explained how many bodies there were and where they were buried, his voice hollow and detached. In total, there were seven bodies, at least as far as Travis knew. Some in the lake, some buried deep in the forest behind the manor, and some, far too familiar, were buried just behind the manor. The family resting together. Dylan didn’t look forward to digging up rotting corpses to set them ablaze, to see the eyes of the dead, their crocked fingers gripping nothing. He remembered seeing Kaylee, her slack body floating to the surface of the pool, shed werewolf blood colouring the water red, red, red. The day wasn’t getting better, the itch under his skin only increasing, teeth itching, and he was happy that he had some gum this time. He pinched it between his canines, easily biting through it. A small part of his brain wished for more resistance. Dylan tried to focus on what was said during the meeting, he really did, but when he finally managed to shift focus from Jacob twirling a pen in his hand, people were already getting up, ready to put their plan in motion. He sighed internally, deciding to just follow Ryan until someone told him something else. They would split up in three groups, he learned as they loaded canisters of gasoline and lighting fluid onto the truck, the bed already filled with firewood. Abi, Nick, and Emma would unearth the Hacketts, Jacob, Kaitlyn, Laura, and Max would trek into the woods to find the five graves of missing hikers, only from Travis’ directions and scribbles on the map. That left Ryan, Travis and himself to drag the lake. He felt his stomach sink as Kaitlyn told him, a bit too smug. He didn’t protest as the roles were assigned so he only had himself to blame. He understood their reasoning though. Ryan and Laura shouldn’t have to unearth people they’d killed, and they all decided that despite Travis’ protests, that he shouldn’t have to exhume his dead family. That was how he found himself climbing into a boat, his insides already swirling, stomach twisting into nausea as he set hit foot on the deck. Son of a drunken hunter. At least they had a motor and didn’t need to row.
“I hate this. Hate it. Hate it.” Dylan groaned as they left the boathouse behind them, head between his knees, trying to forget that it was a dark, wet, deep abyss beneath the planks. “This is probably why dad never took me fishing.” Ryan shook his head with a smile, readying the net they planned to drag behind the boat.
“Well, you’re usually not fishing for corpses.” Ryan said and Dylan immediately felt sick again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. The water made him forget about that tiny detail.
“There’s some nice trout in the lake. And the usual minnows.” He continued, looking over at Travis, probably contemplating if he should try to strike up a conversation about the subject or not. Dylan silently begged him to not go there. Maybe when they weren’t on water. Turned out that he didn’t have to worry, as Travis picked up on the conversation without being asked to.
“Pa used to take us fishing. Often on summer evenings so we could watch the sunset.” Travis remembered, a sombre look in his eyes. “Bobby never had the patience to sit still, it drove Chris up the wall.” A shadow of a smile was visible on his lips before sadness overtook and grief corrupted the memories into sorrow.

The boat lurched, something heavy getting caught in the net, the sudden movement flinging them all backwards and Dylan yelled in shock, grabbing the boat with both hands, trying to dig his nails into the wood to not fall into the treacherous, dark, cold water. It felt like his stomach left his body where the boat lurched, his heart was beating out of his chest and he realized how fast he was breathing, tasting the fresh lake air as he panted for oxygen. A flash of metal snapped up his attention. Danger. A handgun visible in its holster on Travis’ hip, his hand gripping it but not drawing it, a silent warning for him to stop whatever he'd done. It didn’t help to calm Dylan down, it only made him bare his teeth, his panting turning into one, deep, drawn-out growl as he hunkered down, instinctually making himself a smaller target. Collecting his feet beneath him, preparing muscles to lunge, digging his nails into the wood of the boat.
“Dylan, you’re okay. Hey.” Ryan leaned into his view, removing the handgun from sight, replacing it with kind, warm amber and a soft, gentle hand cupping his cheek. “You’re okay.” He took a deep breath, waiting for Dylan to do the same. It took a minute, Dylan fighting against every instinct that wanted to tear that gun out of Travis’ hands and toss it into the lake. His growls slowly dissipated, the strange feeling in his jaws with them.
“You’re clawing the boat.” Ryan pointed out. Oh. Dylan didn’t even realize, his nails bleeding from where claws had sprouted through his skin and embedded themselves in the wood. He felt embarrassment and shame well up in his chest, joining the anxiety and fear in a new tangle of strings, ready to strangle him and drag him down into the cold depths.
“Sorry.” He quickly said, not even daring to look up. If Travis decided to shoot him, he didn’t want to see it. He tucked his horrible, deformed hand-paws to his chest and focused on breathing. Ryan wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a hug, into warmth, safety.
“You have this under control?” Dylan heard Travis ask, Ryan’s arms tensing around him, protecting him.
“You scared him.” Ryan accused. Despite his calm tone, there was an underlying tone of anger. It all made Dylan want to curl up more, shrink until he became invisible and disappeared.
“It’s okay.” He murmured into Ryan’s shirt. Why was it so hard to be human? He forced the knot in his throat down, away. “I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” He didn’t even have the guts to look Travis in the eye as he apologized, too afraid to see nothing but fear and hatred.
“Let’s see what we caught.” Travis muttered, Dylan looking up only because he knew they needed his help with the net. They started to haul in whatever got caught in their net, dragging up drowned sins from the deep, hoping that they didn’t awaken anything.

Chapter 24: Pyre

Chapter Text

So far, they’d found two car tires, a log and two extremely uninteresting rocks which they sent back to the bottom of the lake. Dylan’s jacket was soaked, despite how much he tried to roll up his sleeves and dodge the splashing water. His fingers were raw and bleeding, trying to decide what form to take, if they wanted to shed the claws or split his skin further into that of a beast. It hurt, and he was thankful for it. It gave him something other than the corpses in the lake to focus on. The claws slowly fell off, one by one, exposing bloody but healthy human skin and nails beneath. As they cruised over the gentle waves, he felt how Travis’ glare bore into him, and he hated it. Hated that he scared someone. It made him want to shrink, disappear. Collapse under his own mass into a negative void. Apologizing wasn’t enough, he wouldn’t even deserve the forgiveness, he thought as he held his bloody hands close to his chest, wanting to hide them from the world. Was he even human anymore? The dark thoughts felt like the bottom of the lake. Always there, holding nothing but death and chilling darkness. A void unknown, threatening to pull you down into its depths to swallow you whole. So, Dylan trusted his cliff, leaning onto Ryan, allowing him to slowly, gently, pry his bloody hands from his chest, clean off the blood and get his cold fingers warm. He held Dylan’s fingers so gently, warming them with his own.

When the boat lurched the next time, Dylan did flinch and grab at the boat, but he didn’t claw anything. It slowly got easier. When the lake water splashed onto them, Dylan shook water from his hair like a dog, Ryan laughing and Travis looking as amused as a wall of bricks. The scent of wet dog filled the boat and Dylan didn’t know if he should apologize for it. Did Travis even notice it?
“You think it’s the Loch Ness monster this time?” Dylan joked, clinging to humour to make the situation bearable.
“I wish.” Ryan muttered, grabbing the thick rope to haul the net into the boat. The rope was cold, smelling of tar, lake, mulch, and… decay. Dylan stopped in his tracks, giving the air a sniff, glancing at the bubbles rising from something disturbed in the depths. A chill settled in his very bones, a shiver running up his spine, the hair on his neck raising. His skin was suddenly covered in cold sweat, his hands cold and clammy. It felt as if his internal temperature dropped several degrees. Something was rotting, down in the cold, dark waters. Instinctually, he inhaled more air, a primal part of his brain intrigued by this smell. Human. Dylan had no idea how he knew that he just did. With the way Ryan looked at him, he knew that he could smell that too.
“What’s the issue?” Travis asked when they stopped, exhaustion in his tone where there should be annoyance. Dylan bit his lip, staring into the water, expecting the haunting face of a corpse to stare back. A chill of another kind ran up his spine.
“It smells rotten.” Ryan explained, nodding at the water. Travis immediately understood, face hollow of all expression.
“Hold on or tie up the ends.” The sheriff said, turning the boat and heading back towards the shore. Dylan quickly tied up his end of the rope, eager to get the water off his hands.
“Corpse water, corpse water, yuck.” He complained, drying his hands on his jacket. The disgustingly sweet, rotten smell dispersed as the boat picked up speed, the fresh air smelling of lake and pine replacing the stench. He snorted twice, trying to clear the stench from his nose.
“Wouldn’t all water in the lake be corpse water?” Ryan commented over the noise of the engine.
“Nah, it’s proximity based. All water that’s been closer to the corpse than 2 feet is officially corpse water.”
“For how long?”
“Until it forgets. It’s basis science, just like a towel.” Dylan concluded, enjoying how Ryan smiled and chuckled, fanning the soft embers in his chest. It would soon be a fire as the moon rose, igniting nerves and infecting the few human thoughts he had left. The wolf allowing him to pilot but hovering over him, looking over his shoulder, paws manipulating his hands, the infection pulsing through his veins carrying these instincts with it. Infecting thoughts, senses, down to his very soul. Finding a place for itself.

They docked the boat on the far side of the lake, by an old, rotten dock that hadn’t been used in years. Secluded enough to burn and bury the bodies. The moment he could, Dylan jumped onto the dock, algae slippery under his shoes. He had never been so thankful for dry land.
“I’m never doing that again.” He exhaled, hands on his knees and cold sweat on his brow. “There’s literally nothing you can do to convince me to get back in that boat.”
“You know that we have another corpse to find and burn.” Ryan commented, helping Travis untie the rope to haul their grisly catch ashore.
“He’s not going back in the boat.” Travis decided with a tone that told them there were no discussing the matter.
“Why?” Ryan questioned, glaring at the sheriff.
“Because he’s too nervous and keeps clawing my boat.” Travis deadpanned with unexpected authority, a hollow man with a mask of tempered titanium. Dylan shrugged, conflicting feelings of relief, irritation and embarrassment clashing in his tangle of thoughts.
“Understandable.” He concluded and shrugged, feeling very small. Insignificant, rejected, unwanted. Of course he was nothing but trouble. He was the only one in the pack to actually hurt anyone. Well, as a werewolf. He made sure to keep a distance to the sheriff as they hauled the corpse ashore, keeping in mind that it was a very, very bad idea to startle an armed man. Next time, there could be a bullet in his chest. He silently wondered what kind of bullets Travis loaded his handgun with. Silver or lead?

The corpse breached the surface, a head of decomposing brown hair coming into view, like a sea monster from your worst nightmare crawling up from the depths. Parts of the scalp had slouched off, revealing yellow, green bone beneath. The smell was what made Dylan gag and bury his face in the hook of his arm, Ryan following with a similar reaction. It was like the bottom of a lake, intensified, rotten like a sewer, smelling of dead fish and sickness. Dylan pulled his jacket over his nose, trying to protect his airways from the odour. He was happy that he hadn’t seen the corpse’s face. The images his imagination made up was probably worse, but they were so easier to forget. Ryan took a deep breath to steel himself before he returned to the rope, his complexion a lot paler than usual.
“I can take it from here.” Travis said, sudden authority in his voice. “I’ll wrap her up. Start to build a pyre.” Ryan started to protest, and Travis let out a deep, exhausted sigh.
“Son, there are some things that can’t be unseen.” He said, voice belonging to someone who’s seen enough to last several lifetimes. Dylan sent a glance their way, making sure to keep the water out of view, watching Ryan nod and head to the firepit.
“Thank you.” Dylan murmured, Travis giving a snort nod in response.

They stacked a pyre, Dylan trying his best to ignore the sound of rustling, wet tarp, and the disgusting, meaty, slopping sound of decaying flesh being moved. It was a small bundle Travis carried up to them, what was left of the corpse wrapped up in an old sheet. He let out a small tsk over their attempt to build a pyre before he put down the grisly burden. A chilly wind swept over the lake, a lonely bird singing somewhere in the pines that rustled above their heads. It was a lovely autumn day, the sky blue and clear except a pair of fluffy clouds, slowly making their way across the sky, carried by the wind. It would’ve been such a beautiful day.

If they weren’t digging up corpses.

A scent caught Dylan’s attention as they doused the pyre with lighter fluid. He turned his head with a curious sniff, now recognizing the smell. Smoke. And not from them.
“You smell that?” He asked Ryan who mimicked his motions, both locating the scents the wind carried to them. He could see the moment Ryan caught the same scent, a spark of amber briefly in his eyes. Smoke and the sticking scent of lighter fluid. Dylan closed his eyes and focused, taking slow breaths. Ryan, pine, firewood, fresh sap, turned dirt, mulch, fox long gone, rot, lake, human, sweat, rotting reeds, dead fish, wet rubber, coffee… burnt flesh. Human blood. Travis exhaled a sigh, his breath caught in the wind. Dylan’s gaze locked onto him, a wolf smelling blood, eyes sharp, that familiar itch calling to hunt beneath his skin. No. Either shut up or protect. If he couldn’t stop the wolf, maybe he could redirect it? Find the source. Who’s blood? He sniffed the air again, chasing that fleeting scent. It must be Travis’. Dylan tried to not stare at the sheriff, who already sideyed them for sniffing the air like a couple of weirdos. What should he even do about it? Say something? He looked to Ryan for advice, the other man meeting his gaze, reading him for a second before he tackled the issue for him.
“Sheriff?” Ryan said, getting only a confirming hum from Travis. “Did you cut yourself somewhere?” There was a split second where Travis tensed, as if an ice pick was driven into his neck, paralyzing him on the spot.
“Why are you asking?” And the mask was on again.
“We smell blood.” To that, Travis hummed in response.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s exactly what people say when there’s something to worry about.” Dylan interjected, getting another hum from Travis. The silence didn’t help. The sheriff stood up, straightening his back with a grimace, and pulled out a pack of matches from his pocket. Unceremoniously, he struck one and dropped it onto the pyre, which immediately ignited with an audible, whooshing sound, sending a sudden wave of heat over them. Dylan squinted his eyes at the light, instinctively stepping back from the heat.
“Lenivy, watch the fire.” Travis instructed him, then turning to Ryan. “Erzahler, with me. We’ll find the last body.” Dylan let out a small huff, not able to place his emotions as they jumped between annoyance, shame, embarrassment, offence… It was a mixture of everything in the bag with a bit of wolf thrown in just to jumble it up a bit more. He saw Ryan make an annoyed face when Travis turned his back, almost baring his teeth. Sad. It made Dylan sad too. He stepped closer and took Ryan’s hand, weaving their fingers together, their shoulders touching.
“It won’t be long. You’ll be fine.” He said, trying to calm them both, gently hugging Ryan’s hand and placing a small kiss to the top of his head. Ryan let out a growling grumble, a new noise that Dylan’s brain immediately understood was the way to say “I don’t want to” in werewolf.
“Is it the fear of water or the fear of being without my humble flawlessness and dashingly handsomeness that upsets you?” Dylan asked, hearing how Ryan snickered at his words. That sound would never stop to ignite that fuzzy, glowing feeling.
“A bit of both.”
“At least all I have to do is watch the fire.”
“No.” Travis interrupted, grabbing a shovel from the boat and handing it to him. “You’re going to work off some of that nervous energy before you get in the boat to head back.” Dylan stared at the shovel, trying to process that he’d just been asked to dig a grave.
“Six foot deep?” He tried to sound light-hearted, but it was so very difficult when the world slowly turned to lead, getting heavier and heavier until it crushed them all.
“At least.” Travis ordered, getting the boat ready to head out again. He stopped in his tracks, staring ahead, seemingly lost in thoughts. “Exercise always helped Boddy when he got nervous. It might work for you.” He added before turning his back to them, suddenly very busy with something in the boat. Dylan weighed the shovel in his hands, experimentally shoving it into the dirt.
“Will you be okay by yourself?” Ryan asked, and Dylan immediately felt that puzzle piece in his chest loosen, the abyss growing stronger. He refused to show it. Instead, he swung the shovel up on one shoulder, running his fingers through his hair, winking at Ryan with the most seductive smoulder he could muster.
“I’ll roll up my sleeves and get to it. Work up a sweat, really put my back into it, if it gets too hot maybe I take off my shirt, who knows?” He mused, watching how Ryan’s expression went from his usual brooding to amusem*nt and how his lips formed a soft smile as he let out a beautiful laugh.
“Save that for later.” Ryan said, as he pressed a small kiss to his cheek and hurried off to the boat. Dylan needed three minutes to restart his brain before he even remembered how to walk.

Digging a grave was a grim job, but it got his heart beating, muscles working, the infection pumping through his hot blood. He almost felt it course through his veins, hot, waiting, a tension in his chest, almost as a pressure from inside his chest. A tight ball of nerves and energy who wanted out. As he drove the shovel into the earth, lifted dirt and rocks, the pressure slowly faded, turning into a soft warmth under his skin, filling his muscles with that primal strength. The same strength that allowed him to pick up Ryan and pin him against the wall. He allowed himself to space out a minute as his expression cracked into a silly grin. They needed to do that again. The itch in his teeth returned with a vengeance, his fingers wanting itched to claw, causing pain or pleasure. He drove the shovel into the ground with a frustrated growl, angry that he couldn’t do anything about it. It felt good to take out some frustration on the ground, not that it was enough. Teeth still wanted to bite, and claws wanted to claw. It did keep him occupied enough until Ryan and Travis returned with the last corpse.

They worked in silence.

Carefully moving the blackened bones and ashes to the fresh grave, building, and lighting a new pyre, digging a new hole. Dylan kept himself occupied, trying to not think about what he was doing, just focusing on how the air felt in his lungs, how the infection moved in his blood, how his back started to hurt after digging for an hour… how the hunger started to gnaw at his stomach. Why didn’t they pack lunch? The snacks he brought lasted for about five minutes. Dylan tried to steady himself with a deep breath, making the mistake to focus on the scents in the air. Ryan’s sheer presence hit him like a truck. The fresh air, lake water, earth, smoke, sweat, together with the deep, rich scent Ryan always carried. It filled his nose, his lungs, clouded everything. Dylan could almost taste his skin as he exhaled, still very hungry. Just not for food.

Chapter 25: Breath

Chapter Text

Dylan didn’t know what he expected when he spilled his blood upon the fresh graves. When cold, cutting steel bit into his skin and hot, red drops ran down his arm.

But it wasn’t nothing.

And that was just what happened. Absolutely nothing. No spooky apparitions, no ghostly whispers, not even an ominous wind sweeping by. Did it work? How would they know if it worked? Dylan held his breath for something to happen, and he exhaled only when his lungs started to scream for oxygen. Was that it? Ryan was equally surprised, looking over his shoulder every second, expecting something, but not knowing what. Travis was, as usual, hiding all emotions behind a brick wall. Even when Dylan could hear his breathing getting faster, he held his mask of bravery. After they’d stared into the forest, frozen in fear for ten minutes, Dylan felt his shoulders relax, taking a deep breath through his nose, smelling nothing strange in the air. He spent a second savouring how his and Ryan’s scents mixed, amped tenfold by the fresh blood. Mine. Yours. He entertained the primal instinct for a minute, thoughts of teeth, claws on skin and blood on your tongue.
“Well this was a bit anticlimactic.” Ryan muttered, dragging Dylan back to the present. “How do we even know if it worked?” He looked at Dylan, as if he held the answers.
“Maybe we can ask them?” Dylan mused. “Excuse me miss lake corpse, are you still actively haunting your family?” Ryan grimaced at the grim humour. Travis was already gathering their things, loading up the boat to head back to the lodge.
“We did what we came here for. There’s nothing else to do for them.” He said, dropping the shovel in the boat.
“Am I allowed to board the ship?” Dylan asked, handing their bags to Travis. The sheriff muttered something for himself, loading the bags onto the boat.
“Depends. Can you handle it?” Travis met his gaze, eyes stone cold, filled with a reluctant hesitation to allow anyone but himself on the boat. Dylan had thought about that while they buried the bodies. The ants beneath his skin had calmed, the itch in his teeth was manageable with gum and his muscles tired instead of tensed like a rubber band, ready to snap. Exercise did help to clear his head.
“Yeah.” He said, rubbing a sore muscle in his neck. “Exercise helped.” He looked towards the sky, saluting the clouds. “Thanks, Bobby.” Travis let out that sigh that was something close to a chuckle, not really an annoyed sigh nor a frustrated groan but something in between. The sheriff shook his head.
“Get in the boat, Lenivy.” Travis muttered. Would the man die if he laughed a little? The ride back was spent in silence, as the noise from the motor made it impossible to hold a conversation. Dylan instead leaned his head to Ryan’s shoulder, twinning their fingers together, challenging him to a thumb war, anything to keep them distracted from the depths of certain death beneath their feet.

The sun set, slowly dipping down behind the trees, taking the warmth and safety of daylight with it. The quarry settled into the growing shadows, birds quieting down, squirrels crawling into their hides, temperature sinking, and a light fog gathered over the lake. 24 hours to sundown. Their countdown had started. With it came the growing restlessness, the anxiety, irritability and ever-growing hunger. Dylan wanted to run. To eat. Bite. Claim. The hunger, restlessness, itching teeth and the ants under his skin made sleep impossible. Even when he could curl up next to Ryan, wrap his arms around him and inhale his scent. He silently wondered how tonight would be. The pack gathered back at the lodge, a hot meal already on the table and Mrs Lenivy beaming with pride when they scarfed down the meal, thanks and compliments escaping between the bites. Even Travis sat grabbed a plate; after Mrs Lenivy glared at him. If anyone could get the sheriff to slow down and eat, it would be Bryna Lenivy.

They’d managed to find, burn, and blood all the bodies. Kaitlyn launched into a story over dinner about how Jacob almost crawled around on all fours to track down the scent. They were all surprised that they could smell decomposing bodies 6ft below the ground, and even more surprised when Ryan explained that they caught the scent from the bottom of the lake.
“We would be the best police hounds.” Max mused and Laura scrunched her nose at the suggestion.
“You would need bigger cars. Can’t put your colleague on the roof.” She remarked.
“Werewolf cops!” Jacob exclaimed enthusiastically, slamming both hands into the table as if this was a ground-breaking idea, cutlery rattling at the impact. That was such a stupid idea. Dylan loved it. He leaned into the bit, putting on a southern accent and letting a growl soak through his words as he added to the joke.
“Command central? What do I need to find today? Drugs? Yup, no problem. Bombs? Got it. Missing person? Let me smella’ one of their socks and give me an hour and little Timmy will be back home.” He jested, earning him some chuckles, and an eye roll from Travis.
“I respect the bit, but that sounded more like a cowboy werewolf.” Emma pointed out, gesturing with her fork. Jacob slammed the table again. Nick flinched and grabbed his glass from falling over from the Jacob-induced earthquake.
“Cowboy werewolf cops!” Was the idea this time.
“So, a werewolf sheriff?” Dylan chuckled and Emma groaned at the joke. Laura looked as if she wanted to argue about it but let it go, shaking her head.
“That’s so bad it’s good.” Ryan said, matching Emma’s groan. “Werewolf cowboys do sound cooler.” He added, trying to picture a wolf in a cowboy hat.
“Abi, I will pay you to draw that.” Jacob said, putting his hands together in a praying gesture. Abi looked up from her sketching, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
“Uhh... I’m already doing that.” She said with a shy smile, showing her quick sketch of something horse-like.
“You have excellent taste.” Jacob concluded.
“Someone has to have it.” Kaitlyn quipped, earning a heartfelt laugh from the pack.

The mood during dinner was lighter than last month. They were still nervous, but the dread had faded, turning into worry about the hunters. If this second curse was broken, everything would be fine. Right? They had nothing else to go on, it was the last scrap of hope they clung to. Dylan didn’t even want to entertain the idea of being hunted for the rest of his life. Those people had been close to feral. He had to break bones only to make them stop. He didn’t want to do that again. No, stop thinking, keep yourself busy. Find something to do, like the rest of the pack. Laura and Kaitlyn went over their list of suppliers for what felt like the tenth time. Preparing was how they managed their anxiety. Nick never sat still, sometimes resorting to just wander down the hall, stopping by Abi to lean over her shoulder, hugging her and complimenting her drawings. One of her recent drawings was of a werewolf dressed as a cowboy riding a horse. Everyone loved it, and it earned its place on the notice board next to the cursed laser eye photo Emma took last month. Dylan found his distraction in the kitchen. He needed to talk to his mom, and at least try to convince her to leave the quarry during the moon. He knew that trying to convince his mother of letting him out of her sight when he was in danger was a lost cause. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try.
“What’s going to happen tomorrow?” Mrs Lenivy asked, up to her elbows in dishes.
“We’re going to spend the night on the island. Travis will stay in the boathouse, keeping watch.” Dylan answered, helping to dry, and put away the heavy pots that didn’t fit in the washer.
“And when does it begin?” Mrs Lenivy asked, something small underlying in her voice. Dylan had never heard her sound like that. Afraid. It made him bite his lip so hard he tasted blood. He did this. It was his fault that she worried. And there was nothing he could do. All because of those damn hunters. Something deep in his chest growled, remembering the scent of their blood.
“At sunset.” He answered, trying to bury the beast. “It’s very quick. Last time we all changed within minutes.” He continued, trying to leave out the worst details. There were some things she didn’t need to know.
“Do you all explode like you did?” Dylan nodded, putting a pot away and rinsing the last one. He didn’t want to tell her about the pain. The cracking bones, splitting skin, tearing of muscles, the urges to hunt, claw and bite. To kill.
“Does it hurt?” Well f*ck all those last thoughts he had on the subject. His reaction was answer enough. He hated to worry mom. And she hated seeing him in pain. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbed his back as she always did.
“Is there anything I can do?” She asked, probably knowing the answer. The helplessness in her voice broke Dylan’s heart. He didn’t know what to answer.
“Keep being my mom.” He almost whispered, scared to put the words out into the universe, as if his fears would become truth if spoken. Mom dropped the dishes to hug him, familiar arms holding him as if he wasn’t a monster. As if he was five again and just had scraped his knee when he fell with his bike. It made him want to cry, missing simpler, happier times. When monsters were nothing but spooky stories and werewolves nothing but fairy tales.
“I will always be your mom. No matter how fuzzy you get.” Mom said as she hugged him. Her words made Dylan chuckle, the sorrow caught in his throat, a tear running down his cheek. “As long as you don’t leave fur on the sofa.” Mom added, ruffling his hair in that loving matter she always did, gently drying away the lone tear on his cheek.
“We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but one day, it’ll be okay. I love you, môj malý vlkolak.” Dylan sniffed and dried his eyes, some of the dread dropped from his shoulders. He knew what those words meant now. My little werewolf. He sniffed and cleared his throat, picking up the dishes again.
“Where will you be tomorrow?” He asked, readying himself for battle.
“I haven’t decided yet. Either the boathouse, to help Travis keep watch, or the lodge. I’ve bought enough supplies to make a ton of pancakes. I can’t go home until this is over.” There was an adamant coldness in her voice. “I’ll see this to an end. If they try to hurt you, or your pack, they will regret it until the day they die.” She was right. They knew her name, her face. She was as much of a target as he was.
“Please don’t kill anyone.”
“I won’t unless they give me reason to.” She said, the coldness in her voice scaring even the primal force that was the wolf, howling at Dylan to shrink and cover.

Dylan was attacked. In a way. The pack had already went to bed when he dragged his feet up the stairs after clearing the kitchen. Ryan had just gone to bed, and Dylan longed to faceplant the pillow next to him and sleep for a decade. Even the urges that came with the moon seemed to calm down, asking for sleep instead of blood, rest instead of hunt. It was something he could give in to, quite easily too. With that mindset, he didn’t expect to be jumped the second the bedroom door closed behind him, a hot body pinning him to the door, dragging him into a feverish kiss with a growl. Whatever urges that were content with sleep woke in a heartbeat, firing electricity over his skin and setting his blood on fire, heat filling his veins. Dylan answered Ryan’s kiss, surprise turning to eagerness and a smile as Ryan’s lip traced his jawline, leaving small kisses in their way. Ryan ran his fingers through the short hair on Dylan’s neck to pull him closer, closer, to taste him, feel him, breathe in everything that was him and may his taste never leave his tongue.
“Well good evening to you too.” Dylan chuckled when he had the chance, relishing in the sudden attention, enjoying how hot Ryan’s hands felt. Or maybe that was just him.
“You took way too long to get up here.” Ryan said between heavy kisses, planting his hands firmly onto Dylan’s chest, hurrying to pull his shirt off so he could explore more of his pale skin.
“Missed me?” Dylan chuckled, discarding his shirt, and meeting Ryan in a deep kiss, letting a small moan escape his lips, every sound, breath, heartbeat amplifying the moment. The blood in his veins got hotter with every heartbeat, infection racing through his veins, pounding at his skin, pleading for freedom. Making his teeth itch, awakening this hunger in the bottom of his belly. Closer, he wanted closer. Ryan’s fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, his hand on his hip pulling their bodies flushed together wasn’t enough. He supressed a frustrated growl, letting Ryan drag him with him as he backed. Golden yellow sparked in Dylan’s eyes, Ryan’s already glowing that beautiful, rich amber, catching the moonlight beautifully. Ryan found the edge of the bed and fell onto it, pulling this beautiful, golden eyed boy with him. Dylan let out a sound between a howl and a yelp as he landed onto Ryan, whose chuckle reached his ears.
“Looks like you fell for me.” Dylan joked, his lips finding their favourite place on Ryan’s neck.
“You can’t keep making that joke every time I trip.”
“You underestimate my…” Ryan cut him off by pulling him into a kiss, clenching his fingers in that dark hair and raking his nails down Dylan’s back, leaving red marks in his wake. Mine. They rolled to the side, Dylan kicking off his shoes and gathering his long legs onto the bed. He was immediately met with a strong hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress, pinning him down as Ryan loomed over him, beautiful amber in his eyes, lips parted and this look of hunger on his face. A growl, deep, rumbling, clawed itself from his throat. Yours. Dylan exhaled a sigh that melted into a needy whine, begging for more. Ryan seemed just as surprised by that, tilting his head, questioning, eyes hungry, lips parted. Dylan felt his cheeks heat, did he ruin it now? Ryan was quiet, frozen in place. Until he let out a growl, forcefully closing his eyes with a pained grimace. Something in his jaw cracked, telling Dylan about the struggle for control, how the wolf wanted to overwrite everything human and everything Ryan because he’d tempted it. Ryan took a deep breath, and another, wrangling his mind into a civilized position again. When he exhaled, he looked exhausted.
“You okay there?” Dylan asked, worry gnawing in his chest, wanting to wrap Ryan up, protect him, keep him safe. Helplessness was such an agonizing emotion. Ryan nodded.
“I am now.” He said, a phew leaving his lips. “Everything just, went crazy when you made that sound.”
“Sorry.” Dylan said with a sheepish smile. “So… Would you like to resume our previous activity?” Ryan snickered, that shy smile on his lips. The amber never left his eyes as he trailed his fingers down Dylan’s chest, following the light trail of hair, stopping only when he reached the buttons of Dylan’s jeans.
“If you are okay with it.” He said lightly, Dylan barely catching his words as his blood thundered in his ears.
“Yes!” He moaned in frustration, pulling Ryan into a heated kiss. “You’re mine.” Mine.

Chapter 26: Radio

Chapter Text

His mouth hurt. Dylan woke up with a yawn, feeling his jaw crack, his teeth hurt as if someone had tried to pull them in his sleep. The sun was too bright, the footsteps downstairs too loud, every scent overpowering. He picked up his phone to check his eyes. Glowing gold welcomed him as expected. It would be so cool if it didn’t come with mortal danger.
“Mornin’.” Ryan yawned as Dylan sat up, stretching his arms above his head, his back making an audible crack. Dylan hummed an answer in the middle of his yawn, running his fingers through his hair.
“And thus, another day of suffering dawns upon us.” He groaned, squinting at the blue sky outside the window, trying to will the clock back an hour or so. Was it too late to roll up into a blanket burrito and go into hibernation?
“It is a very nice view though.” Ryan said, meeting his gaze and it took Dylan far too long to realize what he meant. Him. He was the view. It took even longer for him to restart his brain and figure out a suitable response that wasn’t him smiling like a complete dork. Ryan chuckled, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It should be illegal to have such soft lips.
“You always space out when I give you compliments.” He remarked. “It’s cute.”
“Man, you gotta give me a minute to process.” Dylan complained, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks. Ryan placed a kiss onto his neck, then a small nibble, lips finding a fresh bitemark. Although the nibble was nothing like the bite Dylan received yesterday, the gentle touch sent gently, tingling sparks over his skin, fanning the glowing embers in his chest. He leaned his head with a small sigh of approval, closing his eyes to relish the feeling of soft lips ghosting over his jawline, fangs nicking his skin, hot breath on his neck, soft, open mouthed kissed just below his ear. It was… soft. Not like the blazing fire that made him want to pick Ryan up, toss him onto the bed or pin him against the wall. It was soft, glowing, safety. Like coming home after a vacation. Ryan’s lips ghosted over the mark like a soft echo, telling a story without words but full of feeling. Mine. Yours. Safe.

It was always a struggle to extract himself from the bed, but today he had help from the bottomless hunger that ravaged his stomach. Additionally, if he heard one more thud and moan from his packmates he would lose the last part of his remaining sanity. There were some things he didn’t want to think about. Ryan only shared his sentiment, quickly leaving the bed as well. So after pulling a hoodie over his head, Dylan headed to the kitchen, chasing the scent of bacon and pancakes. He entered the kitchen yawning, muttering a good morning to his mom. Which she didn’t return. The silence made him stop in his tracks, halfway to the fridge. Mom was staring at him. Fear. Worry. Like he had something on his face. He blinked twice, confused, before he shrugged, silently asking her what she was staring at.
“You have yellow eyes.” Mom said in an almost accusatory tone. Oh, right. He forgot to mention that.
“It happens. Our eyes change colour some hours before the moon. I forgot to mention that.” Dylan stammered, stumbling with his words, smiling guiltily. Mom visibly relaxed. Footfalls told him that Ryan descended the stairs followed by Kaitlyn, both heading to the kitchen to help with breakfast. Under Mrs Lenivy’s strict supervision of course. Mom let out a heavy sigh, muttering something under her breath in Slovak, turning back to the stove to flip a couple of pancakes.
“Is there something else that I should know?” She asked, pointing out which plates she wanted him to set the table with.
“Well… Our teeth become pointy, we get these awful black veins on our skin and get all sweaty and clammy. And some other things. Laura has a list with everything.” He answered, raising the stack of plates as he passed Kaitlyn in the doorway. She nimbly snuck under his arms, darting back and forth as she helped set the table.
“Dylan chews on things. And we get insanely hungry.” She interjected, getting a chuckle from Mrs Lenivy.
“I was wondering where my slippers went.” She mused, a smile in her voice. Dylan groaned in the other room, putting the plates down. Ryan looked up at him with a frown.
“Did you eat her slippers?”
“Sure did, ate them both with a side of onion rings and scooby snacks, every Sunday is Slipper-Sunday.” He joked, making Ryan give him the look he had when he couldn’t figure out if he was joking or not. Dylan met his gaze, raising an eyebrow. Those amber eyes still held nothing but cluelessness and confusion. It was a mix of adorable and infuriating. It only made Dylan fall harder for him.
“No, I didn’t eat any slippers.” Visible relief washed over Ryan’s face. “But it I don’t get anything to eat soon I probably will.” The hunger wasn’t the worst part either, he thought as breakfast was served, it was the restlessness. No matter what he did he felt trapped, like a wolf in a cage, walking in circles. He knew that the rest of the pack probably felt the same, asking was unnecessary when they could read each other so well. Bouncing legs, chewing on lips, stretching necks, lips twitching, as if preparing for a snarl. Their human skin felt too tight, their senses running on overdrive, sending wave and wave of smell, colours, sounds crashing into their already exhausted heads. No matter how much Dylan stretched and cracked his neck, it never relieved any of the tension. It was like someone had him locked in a cramped space, unable to stretch his legs, arms or even take a deep breath. They were all ready to turn. Hunt. Play. Eat. Fight. At least there weren’t any urges to kill people.

Yet.

It wasn’t even lunch yet and sh*t already started to go wrong. Kaitlyn approached Dylan, holding the radio up to him with an annoyed expression. The radio was on, but only a static came from the speaker.
“The reception is going crazy.” She explained, glancing at the pack of jerky Dylan was holding, hunger visible in her eyes for a moment.
“Are you sure?” Ryan asked, getting a tired glare as answer. Kaitlyn took a sighed, running fingers through her hair.
“I am sure that they aren’t working if they’re more than 100ft apart. Something is shortening the range.” She explained, eyeing the bag of jerky again. Dylan groaned in frustration, trading the jerky for the buzzing radio, grumbling, and growling as he checked it over. Of course the goddamned radios were messing up. Of all times it had to chose now. Hours before a full moon.
“Well this is annoying.” He sighed, turning the radio on and off, extending the antenna, shaking it, cussing at it, but he was still met with the same buzzing noise.
“Can you fix it?” Ryan asked, as Kaitlyn were occupied with scarfing down the jerky.
“Maybe? I don’t know what’s messing up the range, but I know how to extend it. I think.” The radio shack had a repeater that could extend the range. Or, it had a repeater. He hadn’t seen the shack since… that night. There was no telling what the werewolves and the police could’ve done to the place. All those hours to repair, clean and restore the equipment, were they in vain? Was he back on square one? Even if the shack was like he left it, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to concentrate long enough to fix it, not with the ants crawling beneath his skin and the increasing pressure in his chest and head. What was messing up the range? It could be the heavy clouds that hung over the quarry, a dark grey that threatened to unleash a heavy downpour upon them. As if the atmosphere wasn’t heavy enough. Moon, hunters, curse, and now, rain.
“What are you thinking?” Kaitlyn asked, crinkling up the empty bag. Such an annoying sound.
“That I despise the forecast.” Dylan muttered, shaking the radio again. Not that it would help.
“Why..?” Ryan asked, unsure if this was the setup for another joke.
“Because rain is annoying. And it’s probably what’s f*cking with the signal.” Dylan growled in annoyance, wanting to throw the radio through the room. Ryan stepped up next to him, gently grabbing his hand that was holding the radio, binging a sense of calm with him. They would get through this. I’m here.
“Any ideas?” Kaitlyn asked, taking the radio from his hands, her yellow eyes piercing, alert. Telling them that she was ready to spring into action if needed to.
“The radio shack has a repeater. If we can get to work, it should extend the range.”
“Do you think you can do it?” She asked, a worried seriousness over her. “It would be nice to have functioning radios when sh*t hit the fan.”
“Don’t you mean if?” Ryan commented.
“Not with our luck.”
“Fair.”

The radio shack smelled like a sickness. Like rot, vomit, and death, making the three of them recoil as the door swung open.
“That’s f*cking vile!” Dylan coughed, burying his nose in the fabric of his hoodie. The shack looked so different in the autumn sun than it did in the moon light in august. Warmer. Restful. Blood the same colour as rust painting the floor. His blood. As the worst stench aired out, he sniffed the air, curiously, recognizing the scent of human blood. Blood that was and wasn’t his.
“You’re doing the head tilt.” Ryan commented, making Dylan realize that he indeed tilted his head like a confused dog.
“It’s cute.” Ryan added, a fond smile on his lips, hiding teeth that slowly, slowly turned into fangs. Fangs that would feel so good on his skin and claws running through fur and…
“Let’s get to work.” Kaitlyn said, interrupting his downwards spiral. “What are we looking for?” Dylan glanced over the equipment, sliding into his familiar seat, and wiping debris from the desk. There was still blood splatter, small drops of what used to be him. It was so strange to smell. Prey, but family. Familiar, yet alien.
“The scent really f*cks with my head.” Ryan said, eyeing the blood covering the floor.
“Agreed. It’s me, but it’s not me.” Dylan said running his fingers through his hair as he assessed the damage. Cables, a free socket, replace the wire up top… He pulled out one of the broken cables.
“See if you can find a cable with this plug. A certain nasty someone ripped out the original.” He tossed the cable to Kaitlyn, who snapped it from the air, movement a bit too quick and precise to be human. It made a shiver run down his spine.
“I appreciate the distraction.” Kaitlyn said, pulling out a drawer and started to dig through the snake nest of cables within.
“I know what you mean.” Ryan agreed, picking down a box that only seemed to contain metal scraps. Dylan did too. Everything felt sore and swollen, teeth changing shape, veins slowly crawling over his skin, demonstrating the infection tearing him apart from the inside out. He noted a new vein on the back of his hand, black infection readying itself to tear this human form apart.
“At least you two have something to bite.” Kaitlyn muttered. “All I have to do is put up with the noises.” Dylan felt a blush creep onto his cheeks, embarrassment creeping over him. Of course she heard. How much did she hear? He didn’t want to think about it.
“Are you filing a noise complaint?” He joked, trying to hide the embarrassment. Kaitlyn pretended to ponder about it, tapping a finger to her chin.
“Let’s see… Yes.”
“I have a spare set of earplugs you can have. If it helps.” Ryan said, sheepishly trying to navigate the social dynamic. Dylan couldn’t help but feel guilty. He knew that Kaitlyn liked Ryan, hell, they’d both spent the summer bonding over the fact that they both had a giant crush on him. If that was all there were to the situation, he wouldn’t feel as bad as he did. Because now, because of him, she was alone. And he knew how much that hurt. Especially when she had to listen to… he groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“Thanks, but I have my own and they didn’t work. Unless you have a chew-toy there isn’t much to do.” She slammed the drawer shut. “Sorry.”
“Still, if there is anything we can do…” Ryan continued, despite Kaitlyn glaring at him, a very familiar hunger in her eyes.
“That’s a long conversation for another day.” She said, meeting Dylan’s gaze, a silent understanding between them. Share? There wasn’t place in his head for that right now, and he knew Kaitlyn felt the same way. Ryan was oblivious to it all, which was relieving. It was possible to postpone that discussion.

Something growled. Dylan tilted his head, trying to catch the sound. An engine.
“A car.” Kaitlyn said, the three of them exchanging looks, all thinking the same. Hunters? They shut the door and huddled down, glancing out the window, yellow, gold, and amber searching for the source of the sound. Headlights illuminated the yard as Travis’ cruiser rolled up, bumping on the uneven road.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Kaitlyn hissed between her teeth.
“What’s that truck doing here?” Ryan said, nodding to the second pair of headlights that followed the cruiser. Oh no. They exchanged worried looks, the wolves behind their eyes growling, readying to attack, to run, to protect. Everything to keep the pack safe. Safe. Dylan bared his teeth, the itch in his teeth impossible to ignore.

The cars stopped. The engines didn’t. Dylan could hear a quiet growl claw its way up Ryan’s throat, and a low rumbling coming from his own. As the cruiser’s door opened, Kaitlyn grabbed their shoulder, her nails digging into their skin.

It wasn’t Travis that stepped out. It was a woman. Blonde, slim, a grim expression on her face. Dylan recognized her.
“She’s one of them who broke into my house.” He growled, hearing a crack from his jaws. A deep, furious growl rose from Ryan, the anger that didn’t belong to him back in his eyes. Two more figures stepped out, but their attention was on the woman, as she opened the back door of the cruiser, pulling out a staggering, handcuffed figure. She took two steps forward, dragging the figure with her before pushing them to the ground, kicking the back of their knees.
“f*ck!” Kaitlyn hissed as she saw the figures face.
“Is that…?” Ryan started. It was.
“Travis.” Dylan finished, the three werewolves watching as Travis, bloodied and beaten, was at the mercy of the hunters. The woman grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, only to put a knife to his throat.
“Show yourselves, dogs! Or your sheriff will bleed.” She yelled to the cabins, pressing the blade to Travis’ neck.

Chapter 27: Rage

Chapter Text

Fire ignited in Dylan’s blood as rage pumped through his veins. When Kaitlyn lunged for the door, he had to physically grab the edge of the window to not follow. The gravity of the world had shifted, and it pulled him to follow the way of violence and revenge. His nails dug into the wood, which creaked and bent under his grip. If Ryan hadn’t reacted as well, almost tackling Kaitlyn and grabbing her, their day would’ve gotten much worse much faster. Kaitlyn escaped Ryan’s grip, pinning him to the door with two clawed hands, a growl running up her throat, her teeth sharp and eyes burning.
“Kait, calm down!” Ryan hissed, Dylan pulled his claws from the wood, wrapping an arm around Kaitlyn and dragging her away from clawing Ryan bloody.
“Don’t be stupid!” Dylan growled through his teeth, hearing muffled cursing from her. They ducked from the view of the window, all three of them huddling together on the floor. Kaitlyn closed her eyes forcefully, grimacing and digging her nails into Dylan’s arm to ground herself, focusing on breathing as the wolf tore at her insides, throwing itself against the bars of its prison.
“I’m good. I’m good. f*ck.” She huffed, carefully removing her claws from Dylan’s arm. “I would apologise but I know you probably like it.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. A whistle cut through the air.
“Come on! Where’re you at, you mutts?!” The cigarette woman screamed; her hoarse voice mocking the call of a dog owner. The three wolves looked at each other, silently knowing what they had to do.

The second the door to the shack opened, Dylan heard and felt the guns aimed at him. He stepped out, slowly.
“Keep your f*cking paws where I can see them!” The woman commanded; knife still dangerously close to Travis’ neck. For now, Dylan, complied, holding his bloodied hands up, feeling how one nail dangled free, ripped from the nailbed. He heard how Ryan and Kaitlyn started to execute their part of the plan. There were four other hunters, and his heart sank when he saw Mark among them. There was also the heavy-set man who also broke into his house, and a skinny, black woman Dylan didn’t recognize. Mark looked less than happy to be there, his face showing nothing but pain and regret. Jonah was there as well, the thing they had in common was the rifles. Aimed at Dylan. Please don’t be silver. “We really need to stop meeting like this!” Dylan shouted back at the lady, who looked everything but amused, her cold eyes filled with nothing but hatred. Travis… looked dead. The light was on, but nobody was home. His lip was split, dried blood coated his temple and drops had fallen onto his uniform.
“Where’s the other two?!” The woman screamed back, a dangerous fire in her eyes. Dylan heard them, following the plan, their footsteps barely a whisper in the woods.
“Can you please just put down the knife first? Can’t we just talk? Like people?” He said, somehow managing to speak without stuttering or growling. Get closer. Disarm this maniac. Help Travis. Protect.
“You aren’t people, and you f*cking know that.” The woman spat back. The words hit like a bullet, like a shard of ice through his chest. Maybe he wasn’t people, but he was protecting his family from hunters. He took a deep breath, speaking through the growls and the knot in his throat, ignoring the sting of veins spreading on his skin, the drop of sweat running down his neck. The scent of prey in his lungs.
“And still, we are more civilized than you.” He said and met her gaze, holding it, taking slow, small steps forward, sneaking in plain sight. She glared back, wrinkles of grief and fury in the corner of her eyes. Nothing but hatred burned in her eyes, flames almost visible in her irises. Dylan could almost smell the smoke and hear the crackling.
“You monsters killed my daughter. You took my Sarah away from me.” She hissed, her words heavy with grief, that fire still in her eyes.
“And the wolves who did it are dead. I was almost killed myself.” He rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, showing the gnarly scar of Silas’ teeth. The woman seemed unimpressed, but Mark’s eyes widened at the sight of the scar. “It wasn’t us; it was the wolves who was here before us.”
“Don’t f*ck with me, dog. You almost gutted one of us.” The woman stared at him, tilting her head. Jonah huffed, a silent agreement.
“He aimed a rifle at my boyfriend. I didn’t wan…” Dylan got cut off by the hunter.
“Of course he’s a f*cking fa*ggot as well!” Jonah spat, an expression of disgust on his face. Dylan felt himself go weirdly cold, as if a bucket of water was dropped over his head, sinking into his clothes and skin, numbing his nerves, dragging up memories like they were a corpse in the lake. Stinking, decaying death from another time.

A shape moved in the shadow of a cabin.

The shape started the hunt, dashing from the shadows and tackling Jonah into the car. Ryan, furious, eyes burning, claws digging into Jonah’s neck.

HUNT

It was like being drenched in gasoline and lit on fire, rage exploding through every fibre of his being. Dylan’s world was red, hot blood rushing in his ears, pressure building building, bones cracking, bending. He didn’t growl or roar, he was far too focused on bringing these f*ckers to the ground.

DIE

There was shouting, he smelled blood, two stings hit him, something pink, sharp swished past his ear, and he forgot about it the second it happened. Travis used the chaos to fight back, catching the woman off guard, headbutting her chin and dodging away from the blade as Dylan rushed in, grabbing her throat, slamming her to the car. He heard a yelp and saw Ryan rip the rifle from Jonah’s hands, throwing it into the woods. He should’ve unarmed his opponent too, he learned as steel bit into his skin, tore through muscles and buried itself just beneath his ribs. The pain pushed him to finally let out a snarl, baring his teeth, wanting to bite. She answered his snarl by headbutting him in the face, hitting his nose and mouth and Dylan could only taste blood when he split his lip. He clenched his fists in the hunter’s jacket, planning to toss her away, like he did when they broke into his house. He threw her across the lawn. The wolf was so much stronger and present in his muscles, she landed with a grunt, rolled twice, and cursed, visibly hurt. Handled for now. Something smelled medicinal, heavy, familiar, and made his stomach churn, mixing with the increasing scents of blood. Travis looked at him with a horrified expression, eyes locked on the knife in his side, the blood staining his shirt. Dylan would’ve stayed and made sure that he was okay if Kaitlyn and Ryan weren’t fighting the other hunters on the other side of the cars.
“I’ll be okay.” He managed to huff, more of a growl than actual words. Then he caught the scent of wolf blood, igniting the need to protect. Pack.

HUNT

Kaitlyn had disarmed the skinny woman; Ryan was still wrestling with Jonah. Travis yelled something Dylan didn’t hear over the sound of battle and blood. His side was wet and warm. There weren’t any gunshots, only several loud puffs that the rage and adrenaline made it easy to ignore. So Dylan ignored it, and without thinking dove across the hood of the police cruiser, claws first, finding the shoulders and chest of the heavy-set hunter, missing the rifle he held up to shield himself. His claws reached skin and blood as he knocked the man to the ground, like a pouncing wolf. Dylan heard another puffing sound, feeling another sting, ignoring it as he tore the weapon from the man, tossing it too far into the woods before a whine made him turn to Jonah, who wrestled a growling Ryan to the ground, a medicinal, heavy scent piercing the air. Dylan recognized it. Tranquilizers. Darts. They were shooting darts, two of which he first now realized were still stuck in his chest, the feathers on them a bright magenta. f*ck. Behind him the skinny woman was flailing, trying to get Kaitlyn to let go of her, the scent of blood filling the air between her screams of pain. Good. He turned his attention towards Jonah. Dylan only had to take two steps to shove him to the side, blocking him from reaching Ryan, grab his gun and… His chest stung as another dart was fired into it, the calming tranquilizer pumping through his system, battling the aggressive infection and Dylan didn’t know who would win. He was forcing his muscles to obey him, commanding the fire in his veins to burn hotter and twist the weapon from the Jonah’s hands. The drug in his system slowly made the world to syrup. He chose to ignore it. Just like he ignored the knife in his side. He reached for Jonah’s throat, claws extended, nailbeds bleeding.

“DIE.”

“Mark! Shoot them!” Jonah yelled at his son, who stood frozen among the chaos as Dylan slammed his father into the truck, buckling the door, clawing his neck bloody. The man coughed, then yelled as claws dug into his skull, slamming his head into the metal again, painting the door more and more red. Dylan had never been so angry. These people had hurt him so much. Hurt his pack, mate, family, mother. It felt like it was devouring him, like there was nothing but anger and fire and red that tinted his vision, pressure in his veins, his skin too tight over his muscles, the tranquilizer making everything foggy, and he had to protect his pack. The burning in his side flamed up, as Jonah twisted the handle of the knife that was stuck in Dylan’s side. Aside from Dylan letting out a pained whine, it did nothing to stop him.
“Mark! What the f*ck are you waiting for?! SHOOT!” Jonah yelled, making Dylan’s ears hurt, his skull suddenly filled with shards of glass. He threw Jonah, desperate to put some distance between himself and these horrible people.
“Shut up.” He snarled, not recognizing his own voice. Was it getting darker? He stumbled on his feet. The hunter rolled to a stop in the dirt, letting out a pained groan. Dylan hunched down, one hand to the ground, hovering above Ryan, who fought to stay awake. Dylan was ready to tear into anyone that tried to hurt him. He snapped his head in Kaitlyn’s direction as she let out a small whine, stumbling backwards, her claws letting go of the skinny woman’s face. The world was rocking, fuzzy, echoing. He shouted her name, his own voice felt distant, echoing. She fell to the ground, flashes of magenta from darts stuck in her skin. Dark started to claim his vision, but he refused to be taken by it. He needed the wolf. His chest felt too tight, ribs shifting.

Kaitlyn didn’t move. Ryan didn’t move. Dylan didn’t know what to do.

Something stung his neck.

Mark, held a needle, injecting a heavy dose of the chemical, heavy, sleepy into Dylan’s system.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, silent enough for only Dylan to hear him. It was the last words he heard before darkness claimed him, the shouts silenced, the fire put out.

The wolf was still there, caught in the cage of flesh and bone. It was only getting hungrier. And hungrier. The moon would soon rise, it knew. It could wait until then. It had time, and the scent of the hunters was still so very fresh.

Chapter 28: Cage

Chapter Text

A terrible hunger woke Dylan up. His stomach was an empty hole, collapsing into itself and dragging him with it. It hurt. He couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes, only breathe, smell, listen, feel the cold, stone floor pressing against his cheek, chest and digging into his kneecap. Something smelled so, so, so delicious. Like a barbeque, the best glazed ribs, the tastiest pulled pork, making him drool. He groaned, managing at least that. He could smell Ryan and Kaitlyn, not their blood, so something told him they were okay. He smelled dirt, stale air from underground, sweat, rusty iron, muddy water, menthol, musty darkness. Human. Travis. His dried blood. His fresh blood. Dylan’s stomach growled, mouth-watering. The human part he desperately tried to cling to was disgusted. Human blood shouldn’t smell appetizing. He heard Ryan next to him, not understanding why he didn’t feel his hands on his skin. Did something happen? Was Ryan okay?
“Dylan?” Worry helped him force open an eye, meeting Ryan’s worried gaze, from behind a set of bars. “sh*t, I thought you wouldn’t wake up.” He said, visibly relieved, putting his hand to the bars, visibly wanting to get closer. There were two sets of bars, one big enough to hold a werewolf, another smaller, making it impossible to reach through with anything but a finger. Dylan already hated it.
“Is he awake?” Kaitlyn asked from behind Dylan somewhere. Dylan managed to move a hand and give a thumbs up.
“Dude, you got stabbed. You are so not okay.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Dylan groaned, finally able to move, his joints felt like coarse sandpaper. Everything hurt. He flopped over on his back with a groan, seeing what looked like a concrete ceiling, dark patches where moisture made the paint peel away. They were in a cellar somewhere. The bars reached from ceiling to floor, the walls of the cell too close for his comfort. Footsteps wandered above them, muted through the concrete, voices coming from a hallway to the right, probably from the stairs. The only source of light was a lone lightbulb, illuminating an eerie room, walls lined with hooks, chains, cuffs, locks, scrap metal swept into a corner next to a barrel filled with rusty iron rods. It was the kind of place that reminded you to take your tetanus shot. He couldn’t spot Travis anywhere, his scent still lingered as if he just left the room. Dylan’s stomach growled, reminding him of the gaping hole in his belly, of the scent of human blood. The hunger was something he’d never felt before. The actual gaping hole from the knife was long gone, staining his shirt with its bloody memory. Ryan read the pained expression on his face and clenched his fists around the bars, wanting to be by his side but being unable to. A whine left his lips, distress visible on his face.
“I’m okay, just really hungry.” Dylan assured, reaching over, brushing their fingers together. f*ck, it hurt to not be able to touch him more. Especially when he was right there. Something metallic rattled against the floor when he moved, and he quickly identified it as a thick chain, connected to something heavy around his neck. He pushed himself from the floor, fingers grabbing at the metal around his neck, feeling what he realized was a collar around his neck. He gasped in complete disbelief. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.
“We got matching chokers; they apparently didn’t like our style.” Kaitlyn muttered, sitting in the adjacent cage, leaning against the bars with crossed arms, dark shadows beneath her eyes and a matching collar around her neck. They were caught. Trapped. Locked up, chained. A wave of nausea wallowed over him; he bared his teeth at nothing in a grimace.
“I feel sick.” Dylan groaned, leaning to Ryan’s side. Trapped. He felt his heart race. They had to get out. Iron and steel were wrapped around them and the sky too far away and the moon was supposed to be right there why couldn’t he see it they were buried in this prison of chains and concrete suffocating them…
“Breathe.” Ryan said, managing to reach to stroke his cheek. Dylan took a shaky breath, feeling a shadow of the pain from the stab wound. Right. He forgot about that. How f*cked up did your day have to get for you to forget a stab wound?
“There you go.” Ryan said, his voice soothing, calming, making the iron and chains less suffocating. Dylan felt like he could breathe again. He pushed himself to the bars, as close to Ryan he could get. The wolf whined, walked in circles, scratched on the walls and gnawed on This was a nightmare. What would happen to them?

“We need a plan.” Kaitlyn said, breaking the tense silence. “We don’t know what they will do with us, we don’t know where Travis is, what do we know?” Organize, focus. Dylan clung to her words, embracing the task, anything to get his mind of the agonizing hunger and suffocating chains.
“They don’t seem like they want to kill us.” Ryan said. “And we haven’t seen them use the right tools to do so.” He added, voice lowered to a whisper.
“If we’re jumping to conclusions and assume they want us alive to break the curse. If we somehow failed doing that.” Kaitlyn said, wiping sweat from her brow, black veins crawling across the back of her hand. “Then why haven’t they taken our blood already?” Would the hunters know when the curse was broken? It wasn’t as if they would send over Mark with a “thank you” cake or any form of confirmation that the job was done. Dylan repeated the verses of the poem under his breath.
“They want to spill our blood when we’re transformed.” Dylan thought out loud, biting his lip. “That’s what the poem means with ‘spill blood of beast’. We didn’t break the curse because we weren’t beasts.” They had until the moon rose. Once they transformed, the hunters had what they wanted.

A door opened and Dylan’s gaze snapped to the empty hallway. Three people came down the steps, one of them humming lightly. There was something familiar with the voice, and Dylan realized why as an elderly lady entered the room. Heavy earrings dangled from her ears, her white hair was pulled into a bun, and she had rings on almost every finger. It was Mark’s aunt. The same woman who Dylan helped just days prior. Her sweet look darkened as it fell upon them, her eyes keened in on Dylan, sparking a glint of recognition. Following her was Mark himself, hands cuffed behind his back, no cap on his head, terrified eyes locked onto the floor, lead by his father, who had a heavy hand on his shoulder. His father, Jonah, had a cold, furious expression on his face. Dylan jumped to his feet, sparking a growl in the back of his throat. Kaitlyn schussed him and remained in the back of her cage while Dylan stepped forward, the collar and chain stopping him from reaching the door, steel cold and restricting against his skin. Trapped. He backed, swallowing, trying to not fall into a spiral of claustrophobia again. He didn’t, as something worse craved his attention. The scent of human reached the cages, sneaking through the bars like a serpent, whispering about the forbidden fruit. And it smelled delicious. Dylan didn’t know if it was because he was so insanely hungry or because he’d finally gone mad, either way it made him sick. This was a person, not a piece of meat to dig their fangs into. Rip the skin, tearing tendons, jaws crushing bones, tearing of the juicy muscle to eat… It was a storm of emotions raging inside his head, all of them craving attention at once.
“I thought I recognized you.” The woman said, her voice sweet, and Dylan couldn’t discern if it was genuine or steeped in poison. He knew that she spoke to him, he just couldn’t find any part of his brain that was able to pay attention to anything that wasn’t trapped hungry stuckhungrypreymatehunt…
“You’re Mark’s aunt, right?” Ryan asked to draw some attention away from Dylan, who staggered backwards, clawing at the collar, eyes shut with a pained expression. Ryan wanted to tear down the wall so he could hold him, calm him. Be there. The woman didn’t answer his question, instead walking up to the cages, slowly sauntering past the doors, Mark trembling in his boots behind her. She studied them, as if they were some sort of exhibition.
“Then what the f*ck do you want with us?” Kaitlyn demanded to know, patience wearing as she stepped forwards as far as the chain permitted. “We haven’t done anything to you that you didn’t deserve. You have hunted us as animals, shot us, stabbed us, drugged us, run us over with a f*cking car and now this sh*t. What the f*ck do you want with us?” She let out a snarl at the woman, who didn’t even flinch. The woman shook her head, looking almost disappointed.
“So, this is what you’ve given our secrets too, Mark?” She said, a mockery of sadness in her voice. It was as if the temperature dropped several degrees. The woman hummed in disappointment, her lips a hard line. Whatever answer she wanted, their reaction had given her. Jonah pushed Mark forward, almost making him stumble into Dylan’s cage.
“These are the dogs you value more than your family?” Jonah hissed over his son’s shoulder, his hand grabbing his shoulder with an iron grip.
“Dad, please… I just…” Jonah cut him off by grabbing his hair, pulling until it hurt. Mark looked up, if only because his father forced him. Dylan met his gaze, they both scared, Mark terrified. Hu… Protect. Dylan took a deep breath, focusing on the scent of pack, family.
“You think they’re innocent?! That they can be trusted?!” Jonah grabbed Mark’s shirt, almost spitting the words in his face. “They killed your brother!”
“We don’t know if it was them!” Mark yelled back in a sudden act of defiance.
“No, of course, how silly of me. It was the other werewolves running about the quarry!” He slammed Mark into the cage, his head hitting the bars with a clang. Dylan could smell blood. Prey. Meat. His mouth watered; stomach growled.
“If you now love the dogs so much, you wouldn’t mind sharing a cell with one.” Jonah spat at him, veins bulging from his forehead in anger. Dylan focused on one that lead down his neck, where it would be perfect to sink your teeth into the flesh and tear...
“What? No, no, no, dad, please!” Mark begged and struggled to get free from his father’s grip. His aunt stepped up to Dylan’s cage, unlocking the heavy padlock, then the gate, opening the door.

HUNT

Dylan pounced at them, aiming his claws at Jonah’s neck, furious, starving, a growl in his throat. Mark screamed. Iron dug into Dylan’s neck, crushing his windpipe, stopping him dead in his tracks, cutting the growl to a whine as he slipped, the rest of his body not expecting the sudden change in momentum. He slammed into the floor, white flashed before his eyes as his throat got crushed, his head almost hitting the floor. Coughing racked hit chest, throat aching from the abuse. He heard Mark yelp, begging for his life. Then a body was thrown onto the floor next to him, bringing a mouth-watering scent with it. Human. Warm. Prey. Hunt. The door was shut behind him as Mark whimpered in fear, scrambling to his feet, slamming his shoulder into the door, begging to be let out. They didn’t even uncuff him.
“Dad! No, please! Dad! Don’t leave me here! DAD!” He screamed, sobbing in fear as his father backed, his face empty of expression, a strange fire in his eyes. Fire cold as ice, what hell would look like if it froze over. Jonah turned and left, hand on the woman’s shoulder, they both leaving as if they just experienced a tragic loss. As if they walked away from a beloved’s deathbed. Mark kept yelling, begging to be let out and Dylan groaned, covering his ears with his hands, still coughing, and clearing his throat. He ended up next to Kaitlyn, who took a quick look on his neck to make sure he didn’t hurt anything too badly. Not that it was much they could do about it.
“Besides looking like a chew-toy, there’s only a bruise.” She concluded.
“It’s only because I’m such a snack.” He countered with a smug smile, unable to hear if Ryan chuckled over the sound of Mark’s screaming. Kaitlyn rolled her eyes.
“So I’ve heard. Every night the last days.” She said, giving him a knowing look. Well, he walked right into that one. He felt his face grow hot from a blush.

“Dude!” Ryan shouted at Mark. “Calm down. Please.”
Mark fell silent, leaning towards the door, trying to make himself as small as possible. Ryan shot him a worried look, before turning his amber gaze towards Dylan.
“Babe, are you okay?”
“Peachy.” Dylan coughed, rubbing his neck. “When I pictured myself in a collar, this wasn’t it.”
“Me neither. I pictured it red.” Kaitlyn commented, leaning against the adjoining wall. Ryan looked away with a blushing smile while Dylan chuckled at her comment, then turning his attention towards Mark. Prey. Hunt. Dylan mentally kicked himself, grimacing when his stomach growled again. Kaitlyn caught his gaze knowingly, her arms tightly crossed over her own belly. She licked drool from the corner of her mouth. This was going to be a long night. He was just so goddamned hungry. Mark turned around, slowly, back against the door.
“What are they going to do with us?” Kaitlyn asked him, wanting to focus on something. Plan, get something done. Mark didn’t answer.
“Come on. We’re in the same boat.”
“Cell.” Dylan interjected. Mark still pressed himself to the door, trying to get as far away from Dylan as he could. Dylan wanted to both groan and tell him to back further. A very tense, awkward silence followed, fear lying thick in the air. Smelling deliciously…
“So…” Ryan started. “Nice to see you again?” Mark looked at him, dumbfounded.
“No.” He said. “I’m just hours away from being eaten alive.”
“Okay, first, I have some ounce of self-control, secondly, I only eat cute guys, thirdly, I DO NOT want to eat you.” Dylan ranted, counting his points on his clawed fingers, feeling strangely insulted. Mark didn’t look convinced.
“We are aware even when we’re transformed.” Kaitlyn clarified, seemingly filling in some information Mark were missing. He straightened up a bit, an oh on his lips.
“Your dad threw you in here believing I’d kill you?” Dylan asked, and Mark nodded. What the flying hellkites? “Your dad is a f*cking asshole.” He concluded and Mark nodded, sighing, a heavy weight on his shoulders.
“He’s always been... A bit backwards.” Mark muttered, rolling his stiff shoulders. Being cuffed like that must be uncomfortable.
“That’s a nice way of saying heartless, hom*ophobic dickhe*d.” Kaitlyn said as Dylan tugged on his collar again, trying to find out how it opened. And if he could break it. If he changed with it on, he’d be strangled.
“If you eat him, I won’t be that upset.” Mark muttered, voice filled with pain and hatred. “I saw him kick you from the truck.” He said, looking at Dylan. “I was in the van that ran over you.” He sounded haunted, remorseful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know… not that that’s an excuse.”
“It’s not.” Kaitlyn said. “If you’re sorry, then show it and help us get out of here.”

Chapter 29: Tear

Chapter Text

They had no plan, not yet, but they did have the beginning of one. Get the cuffs of Mark. Dylan wasn’t sure if he would be able to break them, but it was stupid to not try. They weren’t drowning in options. The second Dylan took a step towards Mark the man backed in fear, trying to meld himself with the door.
“W-what are you doing?” He stuttered, new fear alight in his eyes, one of them still sporting a fading bruise.
“Trying to help you get out of those cuffs? Unless you like bondage, but you should really have some sort of negotiation before starting, and at least tell me your safe word.” Dylan shrugged, trying to find some levity as he ignored the damn collar around his neck. Guess they found a secret sex dungeon after all.
“He won’t hurt you.” Kaitlyn reassured; her piercing eyes locked onto Dylan. “Right?” Something tightened in Dylan’s chest, not unlike a cramping muscle, as something primal urged him to curl up, back down. Fear wasn’t the right word. Respect? Mark glared at them both, taking a deep breath to collect himself.
“Just… be quick about it.” He muttered, holding up his hands with what movement he had, never quite letting Dylan out of his sight.
“I'm not even sure I’ll be able to do it.” Dylan said as he grabbed the chains of the cuffs, testing the strength of the steel. The smell of prey filling his lungs... He couldn’t help but notice how he could smell the fear in the air, how Mark was visibly terrified to just be near him, how he flinched when Dylan tugged on the chains. The scent of sweat, fear, prey slithering into his lungs like a serpent.

“Can you break them?” Kaitlyn asked, pulling his focus back to the task at hand. He tugged on the chains again, noticing how they didn’t feel like steel. It was more like thick rubber or a hard clay, changing shape under his fingers.
“Maybe.” He said, changing the grip and rolling his shoulders, trying to lure out some of that wolf strength. Dylan had never thought of himself as strong, not until he got bitten. This new strength, it was both intoxicating and terrifying. With a deep breath, he clenched his fists around the steel, feeling it mould to match the shape of his fingers. He let out a strained growl and twisted the metal, feeling it fall to pieces in his hands. Mark stumbled, staring at his hands, still with the cuffs on but the chain between them broken. A look of disbelief grew on his face, then a small smile.
“Damn.” Ryan whispered under his breath, using a tone that usually was reserved for Dylan. A hot blush reached Dylan’s cheeks, then a big grin.
“You look far to impressed with yourself.” Kaitlyn muttered.
“He should be, that was dope.” Ryan answered, only making Dylan blush deeper, his blood running with a familiar heat. The wolf ran with it, its footfalls matching his heartbeat as it took its place, deep in veins, muscles, and blood. That part wasn’t as scary anymore.

They went through their resources. They had three werewolves, one human, one multi-tool pocketknife, a bunch of gum wrappers, and one old Werther’s candy that Mark tossed to Dylan in a rather feeble attempt to feed the wolf. Dylan was happy for the distraction, crushing the candy between his teeth, letting off some of the tension in his jaws but did nothing to quell the hunger that gnawed in his belly. The most important resource was something Mark came with, information. He knew that Travis was alive and had been dragged upstairs and taken into a room “to have a chat” with another hunter before Yasmin arrived. Yasmin, that was the name of the hateful woman with the hoarse voice. The hunter that had, among other things, held a knife to Travis’ throat and gone after Dylan with a machete. She only stopped after he broke her hand. Or he thought he did. She wasn’t wearing a cast. Maybe he just imagined something breaking. He didn’t want to think too much about it. There were four hunters present, excluding Mark. Jonah, aunt Elly, and two other goons, Kevin and Jess. All of them relatives to someone that met their demise at Hackett’s Quarry. All of them hating werewolves and following the orders Yasmin gave them. Mark only knew that she planned to do something with them. He didn’t know what. The four of them didn’t waste more time over musing over what was in store for them, they had to get out. The bulky pocketknife gave them a glint of hope, and they tried to loosen or bend the chains and collars with it, but quickly discovered that the knife would break before the chains would. Unless they could break the steel with muscle strength, they would remain shackled. Mark, who was the only one that could reach a door, started to examine the hinges and locks. There was a way he could sabotage the hinges with the multi-tool so it would be possible to lift the door of them. Not that Mark would be strong enough to do that. They needed something stronger. Something monstrous, inhuman.

Dylan hated that he fit the criteria.

They knew that at least Dylan could change without the moon. If Mark could weaken the hinges, wolf Dylan would have no problem breaking out. Theoretically. Hopefully quickly enough to catch the hunters by surprise. To give Jonah a swift kick to the nuts and find the room they’d dragged Travis of too. That’s why Dylan found himself, sitting on the floor of the cell, trying to force himself to shift without losing control. Even with Ryan by his side, their fingers brushing through the bars, it scared him. The second he pushed the wolf forward, focusing on Ryan’s scent and touch; the hunger consumed him, nausea cutting through his chest and bile burning his throat. It dragged him down into a sickening, warm, deep red abyss that smelled like prey, tasted like blood, sounded like fear, and held the promise of death by his hands. The pain would go away if he only gave in. And f*ck it hurt. He clenched his fingers around iron bars and Ryan’s secure grip as he grit his teeth together, taking deep breaths, hearing how Mark flinched at every sound he made. There was prey. Shift. Hunt. Eat. Feed. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry! There must be a way to change without diving into the abyss of hunger. He took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow, trying to ignore the scent of prey, fear, kin, blood… And he tried again. This couldn’t end well.

Meanwhile Kaitlyn was scratching the wall, trying to excavate the fastening to her chain. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. With the sound of Mark filing away at the hinges.
“Sooo... how long have you been werewolves?” Mark asked, filling the air with sounds that wasn’t growling, rasping, or scratching. Ryan sighed and dried his forehead on his sleeve, the shadows growing deeper under his eyes. How could he smell even better when he worked up a sweat? Dylan grabbed the scent and held onto it like a drowning man.
“This is our third full moon. There were others before us. The Hacketts.” Ryan explained, a slight tremble in his voice from worry, his eyes never leaving Dylan. “I guess you read the newspapers.”
“Dad read it out loud over breakfast.” Mark muttered, tone turning sombre. “I... was happy in the moment, knowing that those responsible for my brother’s death was gone, but it didn’t fix anything. When Yasmin and auntie celebrated with a bottle of champagne, it just didn’t feel right. To celebrate death like that. They were just so happy. Too happy.”
“f*cking assholes...” Kaitlyn growled, protective anger in her voice.
“Are you like, talking with someone about this?” Ryan tried asking and Dylan opened one eye long enough to see Mark glare at Ryan with a ‘what the f*ck are you talking about’ expression on his face. “If you find a therapist specialising in hauntings and werewolves, give me a call.” He said, and Ryan nodded in amusem*nt. Slight irritation grew in the back of Dylan's head. Mine.
“Will do. If we get out of here. Alive.” Mark sighed. “Then, I’ll give you my number so you…” The irritation turned into a wave of anger. Dylan let out a GROWL, cutting Mark of and baring his teeth at him, a flaring, protective anger boiling up in his chest.

MINE!

The growl rumbled through his chest, a feral noise instilling fear in the prey. His jaw cracked in a sickening yet familiar way, fangs had replaced teeth and hunger had replaced any sense he held. He scrambled to gather himself, to reign in the wolf and regain control, not letting this primal entity control him no matter how much it screamed at him to hunt! It was too warm, his blood was on fire, his heart pounding in his chest with a deafening force, the pressure only increasing, his skull threatening to split open. There was nothing but pain as his body screamed at him to shift, to peel of this pathetic shell and shake it from his fur. To jump onto this prey and crush its head with his jaws… Ryan hugged his hand. Saved him from drowning.

He couldn’t change. He'd lose it. He was too hungry, too angry, too afraid, too trapped to act in any calm matter. A whine tore itself from his throat as he curled up, back against the wall, pain wrecking through his body, internal tears ripping his skin from underneath, his head pounding, skull cracking. No. Not like this. Not with anger and fear on the mind. He couldn’t let go when all he wanted was to eat. It was agony. He could hear his packmates yelling in worry, and he just wanted to hold them. Hold Ryan. Destroy this goddamned cage. Breathe. He took a deep breath, focusing on Ryan’s scent, letting it cloud the scent of blood and prey, filling his lungs with it and holding his breath, keeping the scent close, safe, protected because it belonged to someone who was his… He exhaled shakily, finally able to gather himself somewhat. f*ck. He heard Mark almost sobbing in fear and it crushed him to know that he was terrifying, just as a monster should be. He wasn’t human. Humans didn’t think about eating other humans. Monsters did.
“Babe, Dyl, talk to me. Please.” Ryan pleaded, just inches from him that felt like a mile. Dylan leaned his head back, exhaling, wiping sweat from his brow. He still felt familiar yet terrifying fangs in his mouth, jumbled together and overlapping his own teeth. Monstrous.
“I...” He swallowed as his throat felt like sandpaper, his teeth clumsy. “I almost lost it. I can’t.” He exhaled, exhausted, longing to just give in, to eat, to not be afraid. To not think so much. If he wasn’t so f*cking weak, if he could control himself, they would be out of here! It was his fault they were here. If the hunters just managed to take him that night, they would have their blood and no one else had to get hurt.

Kaitlyn growled, getting his attention, piercing, yellow eyes silently asking if he was okay. He shook his head, leaning to the bars, to let Ryan run fingers through his hair. Dylan didn’t even dare to look at Mark, too afraid to see the terror he caused. He heard Kaitlyn stomp around, frustrated, worried, the same energy as a caged animal. Thinking. Trying to figure out a way for them to get out. She was angry, every exhale a growl, every step loaded with frustration, teeth bared and gritted, fangs becoming more and more prevalent. The scent of infection, heavy, familiar, suffocating, hung heavy in the air, only getting stronger. Urging them to shift. The iron bars clanged as Kaitlyn’s foot connected with them and she yelled in frustration. Her foot left an indentation, the metal slightly bent from her anger.
“They will not hurt us again.” She growled, a threat to the hunters, a promise to her pack. She started to untie her boots, the scent of sick, of moon, change, kin, only getting stronger. Dylan could almost taste it in the air. Kaitlyn kicked her boots to the side, pulling her hoodie off, leaving her stomping around in a tank top, black veins painting her skin.
“Come on…” She muttered under her breath. It sounded like her breaths became deeper, more powerful, her exhales sounding more like that of a great beast and not a 5ft woman. Almost like an engine revving up. There was a snapping sound and she grimaced in pain. Cracking wrecked through her small frame, the black veins darkening like the web of infection it was, blood dripping from her fingers as the beast inside started to stretch. Wanting to get out. She let out a whine that expanded into a growl, deeper, louder… While Dylan had to push back his wolf, lock it up so it couldn’t hurt anyone, his struggles was the push Kaitlyn needed to tear through her human form, as she grappled her wolf and dragged it to the surface kicking and screaming. You are needed. We must protect. The skin around her hands bled, a nail fell to the floor. Cracks slowly formed from within, tracing the veins. Dylan let out a gasp as he realized what the veins actually were.

They weren’t veins. It was cracks. Cracks that prepared the skin to be shed. Cracks in their physical being that let out the wolf of its prison of flesh and bone. Kaitlyn’s head snapped up, shadows deep beneath yellow, burning, eyes, almost electric as change wrecked through her body, sharp teeth on display. Her lips formed the snarl to a small smile. Dylan heard Ryan let out an impressed gasp, and Dylan knew that this should terrify him, but it didn’t. Pack. The three of them locked gaze, sharp yellow, glowing golden and deep amber, making a silent decision. Dylan turned to Mark, the hunter’s eyes fixed onto Kaitlyn’s cracking and twisting form, an expression of terror on his face.
“Duck.” Dylan said, covering his face as a ripping, tearing sound cut through the air, Kaitlyn’s cry turning into a rumbling growl that shook through their bones. Skin, blood, shed splashed onto the walls, ceiling, got stuck in the bars. The scent of infection and shed skin had never been so welcomed. Dylan wiped blood from his face, almost slipping in blood as he scrambled to his feet, a wolfish grin on his lips. Kaitlyn was a whirl of black, dark brown and yellow as she spun around in the cage, the sound of metal breaking as she tore the collar from her body, shaking blood from her black fur. Her eyes still held a familiarity when it came to shape, the electric yellow still the same, her frame slender, toned, muzzle narrowed with the two upper canines most prominent. Her hair blended into the fur on shoulders and arms, creating something of a mane leading down her back. Fierce, terrifying, pack. She stood up to meet Dylan’s gaze, and Dylan let out an amused huff when he realized they were the same height.
“Nice to finally be on the same number of feet.” He said, only for her to let out an annoyed growl and stretch from her hunched position. f*ck. She was taller. Nearly a foot taller. The tip of her ears almost touched the ceiling.
“H-holy f*ck.” Mark stuttered, covered in blood, staring at Kaitlyn, eyes widened by horrified wonder. “Do you always explode?!”
“No, only when we’re feeling fancy about it.” Dylan said, getting a claw showed into his side. He let out a surprised yelp, bark, something in between. It made Kaitlyn laugh, growling huffing rattling her chest.
“We always explode like that.” Ryan said as Mark dried blood of his face with a grimace. Kaitlyn huffed at him, sounding almost apologetic. It only made Mark recoil as warm breath reached him through the bars, a muzzle filled with sharp teeth aimed in his direction. Dylan supressed the urge to poke a finger through the bars and boop her nose. Later.
“Ladies first.” Ryan said expectantly. It was the only que Kaitlyn needed to charge at the door.

Chapter 30: Blood

Chapter Text

Mark took cover behind Dylan in fear of the bigger, fuzzier werewolf that ripped the door from the hinges, the weakened metal easily giving way to unrelenting werewolf muscle. Dylan opened his arms to “catch” Kaitlyn as she tumbled into the cell, almost knocking him off his feet.
“My saviour!” Dylan chuckled, meaning every word. Kaitlyn hugged him, buried her nose in his hair, filling her lungs with the scent of pack after being starved of any type of contact. Her thick claws hooked into the collar, tearing it apart without any struggle, sending parts of the lock flying. An immediate weight was lifted of Dylan’s shoulders. It felt as if he could breathe again. This newfound freedom was immediately used as he hurried out of the cage, Kaitlyn following close behind. Free Ryan. Ryan. Ryan was still locked up. Ryan was right there. Kaitlyn wasted no time, as she and Dylan grabbed the door, together tearing it from the hinges. It was cathartic to break something. Dylan found it even better to rush into the cage and finally, finally, wrap his arms around Ryan, crashing their lips together for the first time in what felt like eternities. He felt the smile on Ryan’s soft lips, a hint of iron on his tongue. Ryan ran his fingers though Dylan’s hair, nails scratching his scalp, grabbing at the short hair on his neck to direct him closer. They were a mess of kisses, growls, hands running down backs, fingers clawing at clothes, pulling, tugging, closer, closer. Dylan let out a groan that blended into a growl, wanting to melt against Ryan’s shapes, loose himself under his touch.
“I missed you too.” Ryan said between kisses, giggling as Dylan let out a growl against his neck, not ready to let go just yet. Mine. Claim. Something huffed above him, warm breath travelling down his neck, reminding him that they weren’t alone. Ferocious teeth clenched around his neck as Kaitlyn tried to get their attention by grabbing his scruff like he was an unruly puppy. Using her teeth. Dylan didn’t bother to hold back the instinctual reaction as he snapped at her, teeth bared in a growl. Mine! Kaitlyn rolled her eyes and showed him aside with a strong, furred arm, pushing air out of his lungs as she forgot her own strength. Two pair of hands dragged Dylan out of the cage before he had time to catch his bearings, two pair of arms wrapped him up in a crushing hug. Free from chains, collars, and cages. Kaitlyn wrapped her arms around them, her massive head nuzzling between them with a happy whine, fuzzy, warm, teeth pointing in odd angles. Still Kaitlyn, still pack. Safe. Everything was alright. It would be okay. They weren’t alone.

Mark cleared his throat, a warm blush on his cheeks. He looked a bit sheepish for interrupting... whatever he was interrupting. Dylan had forgotten he was in the room. Everything ceased to exist as he kissed Ryan, and anything that broke that bubble would be torn to shreds, with some exceptions.
“Are you three... Um...” Mark started, not even sure what he was trying to ask.
“Dylan’s my boyfriend, Kaitlyn is a pack mate. We really like cuddles.” Ryan explained. Kaitlyn let out a grumble, as if Marks question offended her.
“It’s a wolf thing.” Ryan added, two pairs of strong arms holding him, a muzzle nibbling at his ear. Mark didn’t look convinced.
“You guys are so f*cking weird.” He muttered.

Kaitlyn led the way up the stairs, Dylan following close behind, hugging Ryan’s hand. They tried their best to move as quiet as possible, perhaps they could catch the hunters by surprise. The smell of oil, cars, chemicals, exhaust fumes, gasoline, started to fill their noses as they opened the door into what looked like an office. Calendar on the wall, dirty coffee mugs on the desk, papers, and binders in disarray, a soft echo of prey lining the room among the dust. There was a window and another door, and it took Dylan a second to comprehend what he saw through the window. They seemed to be in a large garage, streetlight filtering in through the high, dirty windows, illuminating what looked like an old mechanic’s workshop, now only holding two cars, both with familiar claw marks. The scent stung Dylan’s nose, and he could almost taste the chemicals on the back of his tongue. Disgusting. Although the nausea did help to quell some of the hunger. Two tall, horizontally folding garage doors provided them with an exit, question being to where? Dylan just assumed that they were out in the forest somewhere. That clearly wasn’t the case.
“The doors are noisy as f*ck but we should be able to slink out if they aren’t locked.” Mark whispered, nodding towards the doors. “If we’re lucky Jess left the keys in the van.” He entered the shop with only a small creak from the office door, and continued towards the banged-up van, trying the handle on the driver’s side. It was unlocked. Kaitlyn followed with a small snort, eyes surveying the area for threats. There were only one window and another door that seemed to be the point of entrance into the building. The window was dirty as well, curtains drawn and lights out.
“The only sh*t they ever bother to lock is werewolf cages.” Mark muttered, getting inside the car in search of the keys.
“At least they show some professionalism.” Dylan huffed and Kaitlyn growled in agreement. Ryan snuck up to the doors, gazing outside through the dirty windows, streetlights visible outside. Moonrise was close, and Dylan could feel it, feel the cracks in his skin, the stretch in his bones. Shift. Hunt. The scent of night air blowing in from a broken window was enticing, whispering of dark woods, paws against dirt, fresh air in your lungs.
“Are we in the middle of North Kill?” Ryan asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, you almost chased me to the front door.” Mark muttered. A car passed just outside the doors, confirming any doubts. Kaitlyn huffed in disbelief, stalking up to the window on all fours, then upright as she stepped in something, drying her hands on her tank-top in with irritated grumbles.
“Found them!” Mark exclaimed under his breath, victoriously holding up a set of keys. “Let’s go!” He jumped into the driver’s seat, gesturing for them to join him, quickly.
“Not yet.” Dylan immediately said, causing Mark to glare at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Travis is still inside.” Ryan filled in. Mark clenched his hands around the wheel, knuckles turning white. They couldn’t force him to come with them. Even if they needed the back-up. Mark knew the layout of the place, knew their weapons, their strategy. Where Travis was held. Nothing stopped the hunters from putting a gun to Travis’ temple and use him as a bargaining chip. Again. Travis’ wasn’t bullet-proof. Mark wasn’t bullet-proof. They were. That’s why they had to help. Maybe use the infection for something good. Kaitlyn let out a rumble, nudging Dylan’s shoulder with her snout, nodding towards Mark, who sat frozen behind the wheel. She gestured to her packmates and then nodded towards the door leading towards violence, gunpower and bloody sheriffs.
“Stay out here, be the get away car.” Dylan suggested, trying to relay what he thought Kaitlyn meant. Mark looked somewhat relieved and nodded, some colour returning to his face.
“Can you tell us where they are holding Travis?” Ryan asked, eyes anxiously darting to the one window, making sure it remained dark.
“When you come in, there’s a kitchen-ish to the right, and a hallway leading to a sitting room. That’s where we usually wait. The research room is to the right, behind a locked door. It should be empty.” Mark started, miming a map in the air. “From what I know, the sheriff is held up the stairs and through the door in the end of the hallway. It’s a big, dark door, wooden but like, damn good quality.” He finished. Kaitlyn huffed, gesturing a gun with her clawed hands.
“We usually have our weapons on us. There’s a shotgun or two in the sitting room. The rest is in the research room. I’m not allowed in there so they could have literally whatever in there. Yasmin brings home crazy sh*t all the time.”
“Like the ‘good night sleep tight’ darts?” Dylan asked and Mark shrugged.
“Probably. We didn’t have any more tranqs, it took a crazy amount to take you down.” He said to Dylan, a mix of admiration and fear in his voice.
“It’s because I’m so thick.” Dylan said with a wink, Ryan shaking his head in amusem*nt and Kaitlyn rolling her eyes with a huff.

Dylan felt as if something punched him in the gut, the beast suddenly wanting out, his stomach twisting from hunger. A whine left him, Ryan, and Kaitlyn immediately by his side, supporting him, giving him scents to focus on instead of prey. Mark recoiled from him, visibly ready to throw a punch. Even as Dylan only wanted to double over in pain, he managed to keep quiet, breathing through it. He felt dizzy, the ground unsteady beneath him. They were running out of time. He silently wondered what the rest of the pack was up to as he gathered himself, trying to realign his jaw. The pack must be worried sick, and with a good reason. His mom was probably loading some type of weapon and getting in her car to search for them. Part of him hoped that they all stayed safely behind in the quarry, but he knew that they had to be out looking for them. Tracking scents through the woods, getting in a car and aimlessly driving through the woods surrounding the quarry and North Kill. Chasing just something to go on. A howl, a track, a scent… Dylan detangled himself from Ryan and Kaitlyn, pulling his bloodied hoodie over his head as he headed towards the windows. They could give them something to go on.
“Maybe the pack will smell it.” He explained, hanging the hoodie out a broken window, blood smearing onto the glass. Kaitlyn looked surprised, nodding at him in approval, then turning her eyes towards the door with a rallying growl. Let’s go.

They heard muffled voices through the door, three of them. One person each. Hopefully. Dylan felt almost a shiver rattle through his body, his heartbeat quickening, teeth itching to bite something, claws longing to meet flesh. The thrill of the hunt. Kaitlyn led the charge, trying to sneak as she carefully opened the door. She snuck inside on all fours, a predator on the prowl, movements graceful and silent. Dylan and Ryan followed, Dylan feeling as if ants were crawling over his skin. Just as Mark had described, there was a dark, messy kitchen stinking of old beer to the right. A matted rug stretched down the hallway, stairs in the end of it, lights from a tv dancing on the floral wallpaper, casting shadows from prey. Dylan felt a growl growing in his chest, too deep to be heard, it could only be felt. Hunt. He could smell it in the air. Behind him, Ryan let out a silent gasp as something in his jaws cracked.
“What was that?” f*ck. Kaitlyn charged down the hall, one giant leap getting her to the end of it. Dylan and Ryan followed only a few feet behind, rounding the corner when shotgun went off, Kaitlyn’s whine cutting through the air. There was the fire again. Bringing the sound of rushing blood in Dylan’s ears, heat in his blood. It made fighting so much easier. With his ears ringing and adrenaline rushing from the initial gunshot, his eyes found one intended quarry among the two couches, sofa table and werewolf induced chaos. A gun co*cked next to him, aunt Elly aiming at him, a terrifying calm in her eyes. Like hell frozen over. Ryan grabbed the barrel of the gun with a furious growl, redirecting the shot upwards, spread ripping the ceiling apart, flecks of dried paint and wood raining down over them. Dylan’s focus returned to the heavier man, Kevin, who ran towards the closed doors in the room, and away from claw, teeth, and vengeance. Glass shattered as Kaitlyn slammed the skinny woman into the sofa table, breaking it in half, only stopping to let Dylan pass as he charged after the last hunter, claws grabbing the back of a sofa as he jumped over it, crashing into the hunter, trying to pin him to the wall. Instead, they crashed through the doors to the sound of splintering wood. Bad quality door. They both landed with a huff, Kevin elbowing Dylan’s side, Dylan digging his claws into Kevin’s arm. The smell of prey, of blood, filled the air, almost drowning out the taste of revenge. It was so damn hard to resist the urge to bite.
“f*cking mutt!” Kevin yelled, swinging a fist that connected with Dylan’s temple, world turning white a split second, before returning to blood red and anger. To feet finding floor, to claws that grabbed Kevin’s jacket and threw him over the table in the room, cracking a picture frame as he impacted with the wall. The man groaned from the floor, scent of blood only growing stronger when Dylan stomped around the table, finding Kevin on the floor among shattered glass, staining the carpet with his blood. Eat. Dylan had to stop in his tracks, as his stomach turned with hunger, like claws grabbed his insides and twisted them. So. Damn. Hungry. A boot was violently introduced to Dylan’s kneecap. There should be pain, yet there was none, but a sudden weakness as his leg gave away, giving the hunter enough time to get onto his feet. He threw two more punches, one Dylan didn’t even notice impacting, the second hitting him square in the gut, punching the already agonizing pain. He gasped for air, stepping back, dodging a fist swinging through the air. Stop punching! Dylan tackled him, crushing the man between the wall and 6ft of hungry werewolf. What he did next was probably unnecessary, but he was just so angry. He grabbed the man by the throat, slamming him into the wall, cracking the drywall, claws swept across human skin, painting the wallpaper red. It would be so easy to sink his teeth into flesh… Dylan tossed the hunter again, sending him sliding over the table and onto the floor with a thud. Giving him time to supress the urge to bite. Kevin whimpered as he struggled to get up, eyes immediately spotting a pair of feet clad in bloody sneakers belonging to a very, very angry werewolf. Walking towards him, to tower over him, a dark silhouette, with clawed hands, shadowed face taken over by a snarl and two, glowing, yellow, wild eyes, staring into something primal in his soul, nailing his very being to the floor with only its gaze.
“Stay. Down.” Dylan growled, baring his teeth as this prey who dared to even think about overpowering them. Please stay down. I don’t want to hurt you. Please… Get up. Kevin met his gaze, eyes widened with fear, raising his hands in defeat. A small part of Dylan was disappointed, the rest of him relieved as he left the man to pluck shards of glass from his wounds, staining the carpet red. They had been warned. He tore himself from the scent of easy prey.

Glass shattered, a woman screamed, and a thud was heard as Kaitlyn tossed the hunter through a window, sending her down to the street below. Far enough to shake her, not far enough to break something. Kaitlyn stuck her massive head out the window and let out a roar that echoed through the small town. Ryan dragged her away from the window, cussing under his breath, turning to close the window, but settling for closing the curtains as he remembered that the glass was shattered.
“What the f*ck, Kaitlyn?!” He hissed at her, only to get a growl back, drool dripping from ravenous jaws and deformed fangs. Dylan understood. Sometimes its okay to be stupid. Aunt Ella sat on a chair, her hands hastily duct taped, the roll still hanging from her wrists.
“Sweet, they brough supplies for us.” Dylan panted as Ryan tugged away the roll. “Sorry for this, ma’am.” He added, suddenly realizing that they just beat up an old lady. Mom would kill him. Kaitlyn rolled her shoulder with a whine, arm bloodied, skin torn over her shoulder, fur slick with blood sticking to her skin. It would heal. Still sucked.
“You okay?” Dylan asked them both, Kaitlyn nodding adamantly, Ryan taking a deep breath, leaning onto his knees for a moment.
“Yeah. Just… You know. Hungry.” He panted, drying sweat from his forehead. Kaitlyn let out a short bark, hurrying towards and up the stairs on all four. The boys followed, up two stairs, past old, floral-patterned wallpaper, and a broken wall-mounted lamp. Dylan caught Travis’ scent halfway up, giving them a clear trail to follow. The upper floor was, just as Mark described it, a hallway with three doors, one of them a dark door at the very end. Kaitlyn ignored the other doors and charged at it, Dylan following close behind. Heavy paws shook the floor as Kaitlyn burst through her fourth door that day.

Dylan had been shot before, but never at close range, and never by a shotgun. And never in the head.

Today, was a first.

As Kaitlyn burst through the door, a gun went off.

Chapter 31: Bite

Chapter Text

Dylan heard the shot go off, saw the flash from the nozzle light up the familiar face of Jonah. He heard it hit Kaitlyn, the rest of the spread going over her head. Into his face. His eyes. The world was black and red, and terror and gunshots and he couldn’t see, only scream in pain. A door got kicked shut, behind him, someone slammed into the door, wood creaking. Dylan could smell his own blood, blood, blood, gunpowder, fear, prey, prey, pack, hear Kaitlyn’s whines, Ryan’s screams, and slams against the door. Words weren’t important. He doubled over, clawing at his face, wiping his eyes in a panic. He couldn’t see, couldn’t see, couldn’t see. Something hit him in the back of the head. Hard, sending him to the floor as Kaitlyn roared, another gunshot answering, the door creaking, Kaitlyn whining. A faint sight of floorboards slowly came into view, Kaitlyn scrambling to get up, slipping in blood, her chest heaving with heavy breaths, one arm hanging limp, fur and skin torn from it, her eyes focused furiously on something above Dylan. Pieces of a broken chair were scattered over the floor, Travis furiously trying to free his bound hands from pieces of one, cuts on his arms, bruises on his face. But he was alive. Whatever relief the universe allowed Dylan to feel was cut short when a boot stepped on his neck, pinning him to the floor, slamming his chin into the wood. He coughed, trying to scream, his chest and cheek pressed against wooden floor. He swiped blindly with a clawed hand in panic, claws finding something. Warm, coppery blood hitting his face. His mouth, his tongue. The world froze.

He had never tasted something so delicious.

It turned his world upside down, hunger crashing together with disgust, waves of nausea hitting him. His mouth watered, every instinct yelling at him to eat. Teeth itching, jaws begging to bite. This was what he was supposed to hunt. He dug his claws into the floor, tired to grab onto something to ground himself. Everything was red, fire, pain, and hunger. It was tearing him apart. Hunger was tearing him apart. Terror pumped through his blood, air got stuck in his throat and when he looked over his shoulder with his one good eye…

It was only to watch down the barrel of a shotgun, Jonah staring down at him, finger on the trigger, boot on his neck, cold fire in his eyes, a look of disgust on his face. Dylan didn’t know if he would survive this. He didn’t want to find out just how bullet-proof he was. Kaitlyn howled in desperation, only managing to take one step before falling to the floor. The door cracked as Ryan kicked it, yelling for them, growling. Dylan didn’t want to die. They needed him. Ryan, mom, Kaitlyn, Nick, Abi, Jacob, Emma, Max, Laura, Travis, Mark… He didn’t want to die. He was wanted, needed, loved, and he knew that. These people would never stop. They wouldn’t stop hunting, shooting, hurting, killing. The wolves were only monsters to them, never having the chance to be anything else.

Fine.

If you want a monster.

Dylan dug his claws into the wood, only smelling blood, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. If you want to force me down the path of blood and violence, don’t cry when I kick you off the cliff of death.

You’ll get a monster.

He let go of the control of the last scrap of his humanity with a desperate cry, finally allowing the wolf to feed. It swallowed him whole.

XXX

He twisted his head around, skin splitting, bones breaking, muscle tearing, rebuilding, shaping, jaws snapping shut by the time he fully turned, the force of the change sending the owner of the boot to the floor. Dylan broke the first rule, sinking fangs into flesh, feeling warm, delicious human blood fill his mouth. A gun went off, grazing his shoulder but he couldn’t care less as he crushed flesh with his jaws. Tearing it from the bone with a snap of his massive head. Wooden splinters shot over him together with a dark shadow, smelling like mate, knocking the prey to the ground. He could finally, finally, give into the urge to rip and tear. Snapping his head to the side, hearing screaming, thudding, howling, ripping as something tore apart beneath his teeth and claws. He didn’t care about what it was. It was warm, bloody, fresh, food and he was starving. There was finally something to fill the empty pit that was his stomach. He crushed bone between his teeth, digging claws into cloth, skin, flesh. There was screaming, that was abruptly cut off by pack, hunt. It was only prey, pack, hunger, flesh, wolf. Dylan was gone, drowning, somewhere deep beneath the rage, hunger, fear, and despair. Floating in a limbo between man and beast, thoughts echoing into the abyss that was the hunger and fear. He didn’t have the strength to climb out of it. Not until someone grabbed him and pulled him away, a sweet familiar scent filling his lungs, cutting through the blood and carnage. Pack. Black fur filled his field of vision, enveloping him in Ryan’s scent. Ryan. His Ryan. His Ryan that was pushing his furry head against him, trying to force him to move, a whine climbing from his chest. Why was he sad? Dylan grabbed his cliff, steadying himself, climbing out of the abyss, into cold reality where sharp scents, loud noises and burning lights attacked his senses. Where Ryan in his wolf skin, was meeting his gaze, ears pulled back, worry in his eyes. Where blood was on his tongue and his claws holding… a leg. What remained of one.

XXX

Dread flooded his veins like ice.

What did he do?

Dylan, the human part fighting its way to the controls, flung himself away from the carnage, retching, trying to purge the sins from his body. He couldn’t look. What did he do?! Dear f*cking God what did he do?! He bit someone. He ate… He cried, sobs rattling through his body, cried over low he’d fallen, over the humanity he’d lost. There wasn’t even anywhere he could run to hide, so he curled up against Ryan, trying to make himself as small as possible, covering his horrific visage under his hands, claws. He was a monster. He just proved the hunters right. Ryan wrapped his strong arms around him and just held him. Let him bury his face to his chest, curl up in his arms. Kaitlyn limped to his side, pushing her snout to his cheek, trying to comfort him, a deep rumble rising from her throat. She licked blood from his cheek, whining in concern. Dylan allowed himself to meet her gaze. A shocked whine escaped him. Kaitlyn was missing most of her right ear, cheek wounded, shoulder a mess of a shotgun wound, arm still hanging limp. How many times had she gotten shot? Something moved behind her, and his ears shot up with his hackles. It was Travis, getting to his feet with a pained grunt. Behind him was the broken chair with frayed rope, looking as if someone had chewed them off. The sheriff’s gaze fell on the carnage, his eyes widening for a second, horror taking hold of his being. Dylan shrunk down again, trying to hide. He knew it was stupid but… it was all he had. Travis took a few weary steps towards them, holding his bloodied arm, looking at what remained of Jonah with a grim expression. At least he was standing.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He said, with a deep sigh, voice exhausted, face bruised, shirt bloodied. Kaitlyn nodded, starting to limp towards the stairs, looking at them with expectantly, waiting on them to follow, bright yellow eyes among blood and black fur. Ryan slowly got to his feet, grabbing Dylan’s hand, urging him to follow. Dylan did, eyes fixed on the floor, on the amalgamation he called his feet. He couldn’t stop sobbing. He bit someone. Killed someone? Ate… To even think about it made him nauseous. There was no trace of any hunter when they walked down the stairs, Kaitlyn still leading the charge, clearing the way for them. Well, they found trace of one hunter, sitting outside in the van, waiting for them, an expression of fear and relief crossing his face. Dylan couldn’t look at him. He just killed his dad. What the hell do you even say? ‘I’m sorry’, didn’t really cut it.
“Officer Hackett! I’m so glad you’re…” Mark exclaimed, words fading as he got an icy look from Travis in return.
“Just get us out of here.” The sheriff sighed, opening the back of the van for the wolves, Ryan leading Dylan into the car that smelled of chemicals, bleach, and cigarettes. It was a bit cramped with the three of them in the van, but it worked. Travis stopped in his tracks as he closed the doors, trying to find his words. It was always so difficult to figure out what was going on in his head.
“Thank you.” He settled on, tired lines on his face carved from pain. Kaitlyn waved him off with a small snort, like they didn’t risk their lives to save him. Dylan thought that he at least owed them a pizza, but he nodded at Travis, the man’s expression impossible to read. How much blood would it cost to keep them safe? After all that, he was still starving.

They sat in dark silence as the van drove, huddled together, putting their trust in Travis and Mark to take them home. Ryan wrapped his arms around Dylan, holding him close, Kaitlyn stroking his back and hair. Unable to speak, only low rumbles rose from them, trying to soothe Dylan, bring him out of the shock he was experiencing. It wasn’t easy. Everything smelled like blood. Their blood, Jonah’s blood, Travis blood, wolf, human, prey, hunter. He could still taste... remember how it tasted. Dylan tucked his head to Ryan’s chest, under his chin, listening to his heartbeat. Slow, powerful, accompanied by deep breaths, not even that left alone by the infection. Kaitlyn nudged Dylan’s shoulder, tapping her claw onto the floor.
“U ok?” She’d managed to carve into the floor. Dylan shook his head, Ryan hugging him tighter, worry and a heavy sorrow in his eyes. Kaitlyn scratched something more into the floor.
“U had too.” Ryan tapped his claw to Kaitlyn’s scribbles, as if to emphasise what she meant. Dylan shook his head with a frustrated grunt. He didn’t have to… eat. Nausea welled up in his stomach again together with that damn hunger. Kaitlyn exchanged a worried look with Ryan, then tapped the scribbles again, sternly meeting Dylan’s gaze. You had to. They were going to kill you. Dylan detangled himself from Ryan’s arms, digging a claw into the floor, scratching out a word.
“Ate.” He slammed his fist into the scratches, leaving a sizable dent, again curling up to shield himself from reality, this time hiding from them as well. Realization dawned over Kaitlyn’s face, and Dylan wished that he didn’t see her horrified expression. She put her hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze. Ryan grabbed Dylan’s cheeks, tugging on the fur, forcing him to meet his gaze, the deep amber, the glow like a hearth. He tried to say something, stroking his cheeks, cupping his face with clawed hands. Dylan didn’t understand what he tried to tell him, but he somehow understood the meaning behind it. Not the sentence itself, but the primal, ancient language spoken without words, relaying a feeling, explaining something that couldn’t be expressed with speech. I love you. I’d be lost without you. I’m yours. You’re mine. You did nothing wrong. Dylan could only answer with a sob. He didn’t deserve that kindness. They way Ryan held him, and Kaitlyn ran her claws through his hair, told him otherwise. It would just take a while to accept it.

The van braked, suddenly, catching them off guard and sending all three of them tumbling forward. Did someone catch up to them? Were there more hunters? Dylan tensed, readying himself for another fight, a growl growing in the back of his throat.
There was a howling bark from outside. A familiar howl. Laura? Jacob? Dylan tilted his head, trying to hear, only for Ryan to howl at the top of his lungs to answer the call.
“Custos! Stop it!” Travis shouted, by the sound slamming his hand into the car door. Mark screamed in fear as someone crashed into his door, barking and snarling.
“Kearney, he’s with us! Down!” Travis shouted at her. They heard Laura bark a protest, while Jacob let out an apologizing whine as a third party scratched on the doors, trying to open them. Pack. Pack!
“How the f*ck did they find us?” Mark’s voice carried through the metal, his fear still audible. The door opened and they spotted Max’s fuzzy visage before Jacob flew over him, rocking the van, trying to hug all three of them at once. Friends friends friends! His clear joy and energy of a happy Labrador was contagious, and Dylan could almost forgive him for scaring the living daylight out of them. They tumbled out of the van, a tangle of fur, teeth, and long limbs, getting welcomed by Laura and Max, both visibly relieved to see them alive, covering them with playful nibbles, licks too cheeks, hugs, and shoves. Dylan took in their surroundings, eyes scanning the stretch of road and nose smelling the air. Exhaust fumes, asphalt, Ryan, pine trees, tar, dirt, blood, pack, motor oil, rust, scraps... Scrapyard. He couldn’t see it but when he thought about it, he did recognise their surroundings. They were almost home. Home. Laura started a howl, a signal, all of them joining, creating a cry of six voices telling the area that they were safe. Found. Together. Here! Hear! Travis rolled up the window with a sigh, trying to drown out some of the noise.
“What the hell are they doing?” Mark asked next to him, staring at the pack still jumping over each other.
“Communicating. Get used to it.” Travis muttered, knocking on the window to get their attention. “Get in or close the doors, we’re heading back to the lodge.” Home. They were going home.

How would he explain this to mom?

Chapter 32: Howl

Chapter Text

They followed the van by foot. Nipping at each other, racing the van, taking shortcuts through the wood, leaving the road to chase after a bird or squirrel, jaws sometimes snapping shut around a slow critter. Fur or feathers, the hunger didn’t care. If it had a heartbeat, it was edible. Ryan even shared a rabbit he caught. So very romantic. Dylan was still thankful as it filled his stomach with something that wasn’t… He didn’t want to think about it. What should he even say to mom? He still tried to progress that he could swallow a rabbit in two bites. Who even did that? Werewolves apparently. Laura barked at him, urging him to keep up with the van. Dylan rolled his eyes, crushed the small bones between his teeth and ran to catch up with the van. Laura kept herding them towards the road, barking at anyone who she deemed to stray too far from the van. She tried to correct Kaitlyn once, and it ended with Kaitlyn chasing her down, clearly annoyed by the helicopter behaviour. Mark sat glued to the window, looking out at them with that expression of wonder and fear.

After what could’ve only been ten minutes, after they passed the scrapyard, Dylan noticed an approaching car. The hum of the was motor noticeable before the lights and Dylan recognised the shape and the sound. Mom’s car. Oh. He slowed down in his tracks, coming to a full halt, digging his claws into the ground. What should he say to her? How could he even look her in the eye? Three shapes ran along the car, howling their greetings, surrounding them before the car came to a stop. Dylan let himself get caught in the moment as Abi, Nick and Emma ran to greet them. They were together again. Safe. Home. Dylan felt himself exhale, shoulders relaxing, hackles lowering. He was safe, with family that jumped and barked and nipped at ears. With Ryan by his side, supporting with his presence alone. Dylan didn’t need any words to understand what the pack were trying to say. We’re so happy you’re okay. You’re back! We were so worried. You’re back! Are you hurt? We smell blood. Abi was all over Kaitlyn, whining, upset over her healing ear, worried for all the blood she was smelling. Kaitlyn had to cup her face with her hands and steadily met her gaze to calm her down, claws squishing her cheeks. I’m okay. Emma was methodical, greeting them with a small shove of her head before turning her attention to the van, while Nick tried to hug the three of them at once. It was overwhelming but welcomed. A car door opened, and three heads immediately shot up to identify the noise, ears up.

“Dylan?!” Mom. Panic in her voice, her gaze feverishly searching the bundle of furry bodies for her missing son. She didn’t step far from the car, not wanting to get too close to stomping paws and enthusiastic nibbles. Dylan both wanted to run to her and away, away from the horrific act he’d committed. He found himself frozen on the spot. Could he even trust himself? He wasn’t as hungry anymore... Ryan nudged him, interrupting his thoughts, nuzzling his head in under his chin in something of a hug. He licked his cheek, chuffing at him, urging him to go, paw giving his shoulder a light push. I’m with you.
“Dylan?” Her voice was on the verge of breaking, as if she was close to tears. It was the final push Dylan needed to detangle himself from the pack, sprinting towards her on all four. She stepped behind the open car door in fear, the sight of a giant werewolf dashing towards her invoking a primal reflex. Dylan skid to a halt in the beam from the headlights, squinting at the sudden brightness. I’m here. The moment he stepped into the light, mom left the safety by the car, running to meet him, tears in her eyes. Dylan held his claws to his chest, sitting down and lowering his head when she tried to wrap her small arms around his neck.
“You’re okay. I was so worried.” Mom sobbed, teary eyed, gently moving strands of fur hair from his eyes, tucking them behind his pointy ears. “Are you hurt?” Dylan shook his head, hair falling back in his eyes. He leaned down to scratch into the dirt with a curved, black claw.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Don’t apologise for getting kidnapped. I’m so glad to see you again.” She gently stroked his cheek, as if he was still him, and not an 8ft wolf monster.
“Even with this face?”
“You will always be my son, sweetheart.” Dylan leaned his head to her shoulder, to the soft human safety, stability, love. She hugged him again, stroking his hair the same way she’d always done to comfort him. If it was because he scraped his knee when learning to bike or because he just escaped werewolf hunters, it was the same. No matter what skin he was wearing. He just prayed that she wouldn’t need to know that he mauled a person.
“Is Ryan with you? Are everyone accounted for?” Mom asked, seriousness back in her voice. Dylan didn’t have time to answer as a low huff was heard from a dark shape at the edge of the light. Ryan carefully approached, trying to appear as small as possible on all fours as he snuck up to Dylan’s side. He greeted them both with a small bark, sitting down and leaning his head to Dylan’s shoulder. “Ryan, I assume?” Mom said and Ryan nodded in affirmation. “I’m so relieved you are okay. All of you. Is anyone hurt?”
“Not really.” He had no idea how to answer that properly. “We’re fine for now. The rest can wait until I get my voice back.” He quickly scratched, mom patiently waiting for him to finish writing. There was a faint scent of gunpowder on her fingers, and that was when he noticed the shotgun in the car. They were interrupted by a scream from the van.

Emma was leaning against the driver’s window, slightly tilting the van, letting out a string of inquisitive growls.
“Get down! You’re tipping the car.” Travis ordered, making Emma narrow her eyes at him, eyeing the other passenger. She darted around to the other side, slamming her claws to the window, barking angrily as she realized who it was. Danger! Hunter! Abi and Nick immediately joined her, with Jacob stopping his dash halfway to the car before he remembered that Mark wasn’t a threat. Three nervous, riled up werewolves were barking at Mark, clawing at the window, chewing at whatever edges they could find, their sheer force starting to tip the van. Nick ripped the rear-view mirror from its place with his jaws, sending the piece of plastic flying into the woods. Dylan exchanged a tired look with Ryan, both sighing.
“Chill, chill, chill! We’re cool! WE’RE COOL!” Mark yelled with increasing distress as the van slowly tipped. The situation quickly went from annoyance to urgency, they sprang into action. Dylan and Jacob ran to the opposite side of the van, pushing their shoulders to the metal, making sure it didn’t tip over as the pack handled the situation.
“He’s with us!” Travis yelled from inside the van. “Stand down!” Ryan tackled away Nick, the two tumbling into the headlights of the van, eyes reflecting green and yellow, teeth shining white from ravenous maws. They tumbled, Nick finding his footing first, standing tall on two feet, claws out, but not aggression in his posture. Defensive, confused, the werewolf version of a shrug. Damn he was tall. They all were. Ryan faced him with a huff, scratching something in the dirt, Nick tilting his head to read. ‘You’re Australian, you should be able to read upside down.’ Was what Dylan wanted to call out if the infection didn’t steal his voice. Their burden eased as the van returned to four wheels and Jacob let out a relieved sigh as their pack mates left it alone.

All but Abi. She stayed to study Mark through the window, like a zoo, a predator trying to understand their prey. Mark stared back, blue eyes filled with a mix of horror and fascination. Abi tilted her head, sniffing at the window, trying to identify Mark’s scent. Friend? That got the attention of the rest of the pack, except Ryan, Dylan, and Kaitlyn. They took a moment to identify Mark’s scent, silently greeting their newest pack mate, or in Jacob’s case, licking the windshield and pushing his nose to it. It was a strange, but peaceful moment, hunter meeting prey, prey meeting hunter, erasing the lines between the two, creating something new. Friends.
“H-Hi.” Mark stuttered, managing a small wave. Abi pushed her hand to the glass, clawed fingers spread onto the glass. A look of recollection fell over Mark.
“You were in the van that night.” He realized, Abi nodding at the statement, looking at him with big, questioning, red eyes, ears pulled to the sides. Why did you do that? You hurt us. We didn’t do anything. Mark bit his lip, swallowing.
“I’m so sorry.” He mirrored Abi’s gesture, putting his hand to the glass. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.” He continued with remorse; voice heavy with shame. Nick butted into their conversation with a growl, Mark recoiling from the sudden hostility. Nick wrapped his arms around Abi, raised his hackles with a growl and watched Mark with visible hostility, luminous green eyes burning into him. Their attention turned as Jacob yelped and almost vaulted away from the van as the windshield wipers turned on. Travis rose an eyebrow, glaring at Jacob with exhausted annoyance, flicking a switch on the wheel, stopping their movement. The pack howled with laughter, slowly turning from laughing to a strong howl. It was loud. Powerful, haunting, the song of a family that was together again. It wasn’t like that time they howled at the afternoon sky in their human skin, this was something else. This was a celebration, their claim to the land, their way to proclaim their existence, to yell out into the night; here we are! Ours! Dylan had never felt so alive. Fresh air in his lungs, the howl of his pack in his ears, Ryan’s scent in the air, wind in his fur, moonlight on his skin. It felt like… life. Energy. Power. But yet so calming. Everything would be okay. Ryan grabbed his hand, intertwining their clawed fingers, giving his hand a light squeeze. It would be okay. They were safe. Everything would be okay.

Mom, Travis, and Mark entered the lodge, the wolves staying outside, promising to not venture far. There was no sign of any outsiders around the lodge, and they were all on high alert. The clouds had parted, bathing the landscape with moonlight. It left the stars visible, the moon beaming down at them, but it also made the warmth escape the land. Their heavy breaths turned to mist in the October air, a light steam rising from their exposed skin, bloody, torn clothes clinging to their shapes. Blood flaking and itching, making Dylan mimic Jacob and roll around on a patch of grass to shake it from his skin. It was so uncomfortable. Everything was itching, his torn shirt uncomfortably tight and dirty. Good thing that he wore one of the expendable ones, because the rags he was wearing couldn’t be called clothing. Both Jacob and Nick ran around without theirs. Max had gotten his paws on a giant, black t-shirt that was still a bit too short. Otherwise, lycanthropy seemed to be a tit* out kind of affliction, at least for men. Dylan sighed and attempted to pull the remains of his shirt over his head, finding it too tight and opted to just rip it off instead. He tore the rags from his body, shaking out his fur, feeling how dried blood loosened from his back. Jacob let out a howl, Emma backing him up with a howling wolf whistle. Dylan felt himself blush, trying to hide with a shrug, make himself smaller, waving them off. Jacob frowned at him, shaking his head, and sauntered up to him with a grumble. He pulled out a tiny, crumpled notepad and a pen that he kept in his pocket, scratching down some quick words before handing it to Dylan. His handwriting was so bad that Dylan at first didn’t realize that the note was upside down. Crow’s feet and wolf’s paws.
“Stand up straight bro, you look hella fine.” Dylan had to read it twice just to process what he read. Jacob did two enthusiastic thumbs up, trying to grin. Dylan snatched the pen from him to write down an answer.
“I can’t stand up straight.” He handed it back to Jacob who had the look of a confused question mark. He rose an eyebrow, asking for clarification. Dylan reached over and underlined the word “straight” twice, trying to deliver his best sh*t-eating grin. It took Jacob a minute before he groaned in realization, flipped him of, punched him in the arm and ran off to pester someone else. Dylan chuckled, proud of himself, turning around to gather the rags that used to be his shirt. Ryan was staring, one paw in the air as if he froze in the middle of a step. His jaws were clenched around the two notebooks he went to fetch, and now they were probably covered in drool There was this hunger in his eyes. Mine. The same look he had that night before sinking his teeth into Dylan’s neck. It was just that... now all that hunger, the hidden monsters, all the energy, was unleashed. Dylan felt his cheeks heat, his whole body growing hotter. Ryan dropped the notebooks on the ground and pounced at his boyfriend, a growling rumble in his throat. Dylan caught him, falling into a tumble with him, crashing through bushes and damp leaves, kicking up the scent of sudden movement, dirt, mulch, earth, murky wood. Dylan was far too occupied with Ryan’s scent to notice them, as he was leaning his head to accept playful nibbles from eager fangs nipping at his skin. There was the fire again, ignited by hot breath and wet licks trailing up his neck. Damn he wished he could kiss him, taste those lips that ghosted over his skin. Well, fangs. He let out a happy growl, running claws down Ryan’s back, combing through the thick fur, ripping through what rags that were left of his shirt. It was so satisfying to finally drag his claws over Ryan’s skin, though his fur, carving his signature into his skin. Mine. Ryan met his gaze, hovering above him, propping himself up with one strong hand on Dylan’s chest, fingers with black claws spread wide, his weight pinning Dylan to the ground. f*ck he was beautiful in the moonlight, strands of black fur painted with silver, teeth almost shining white, eyes, oh those eyes, deep, glowing, amber, they gravity trapping Dylan and all his senses. Strong, powerful, gentle, caring. Mine. Claimed. Dylan reached up to cup Ryan’s face with one hand, gently stroking his thumb down his cheek. The persistent itch beneath the skin was gone so was the urge to jump out of his own skin and the constant tension in his muscles. Dylan realized that he could finally relax. A warm nose nuzzled in in the fur beneath his ear, Ryan huffing at him, rolling over to the side, using Dylan’s arm as a pillow. He was so warm, cosy, soft, Dylan wrapped his arms around him, burying his nose in his hair, inhaling his scent, grounding himself, feeling how a warm calm filled his body. Maybe everything would be alright. They were by the lodge, their pack surrounding them, patrolling the area, mom was safe, Travis and Mark were safe. Dylan tightened the hug, clenching his fists in Ryan’s fur, allowing himself to relax. It would be okay. Everyone was safe. It would be okay.

A howl rose from the woods. Someone’s coming. Danger. Dylan groaned, so exhausted that he wanted to cry, the pack rallying around him. Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

Please let this be over quickly.

Chapter 33: End

Chapter Text

This was the end. The end of violence and unnecessary bloodshed. Hopefully no one else had to die tonight. It was one car, four people, Ryan counted, his eyes as sharp as ever. The pack stalked the vehicle as it approached the lodge, keeping to the shadows like ghosts. Sometimes a pair of inhuman eyes reflected the headlights, only to disappear into the night when investigated further. The car didn’t have time to reach the lodge before a chilling howl pierced through the woods. Two shadows broke free from the night to hunt the car, their eyes reflecting luminous green and fiery red, powerful breath turning to mist. Emma would never lose their scent; it was fresh on her tongue and filling her lungs. Nick would never grow tired from running, his heart spreading the infection through muscle and blood, igniting a fire to fuel the movement. Their loud footsteps were audible from within the car, the thundering of eight paws against the gravel. A woman yelled for the driver to speed up, and they did, skidding through a sharp turn. In their fear they didn’t hear branches snapping and breaking, and only the driver spotted the mountain of a werewolf burst through the forest, pale eyes staring into their soul as his shoulder slammed into the front of the car, sending it spinning into the ditch. Jacob would never be stopped by a simple car, there was nothing that wouldn’t yield to his strength.

The car braked, wheels skidding on the gravel as it came to a halt. The driver’s door flew open before it properly stopped. Yasmin was driving, the hateful woman already halfway out of the car when a fourth wolf appeared, her claws finding the door and slamming it shut into the hunter’s face. The fourth, pale wolf let out a roar, startling a flock of sparrows that took to the sky, her cry reaching her packmates who set the plan in motion. Laura would never lose track of her pack again; she would never let them get hurt again. The four wolves attacked the car as one, Laura aiming her claws at Yasmin who ducked back into the car, preparing to shoot as the window splintered into shards, five claws reaching into the car. Nick and Emma ducked beneath the windows, grabbing the edge of the car, and lifting, ignoring the surprised yelling. The car creaked as it slowly tipped, gravity soon taking over the work the wolves did. Jacob ripped open the hood of the car, reaching inside and ripping out something, causing the motor to go quiet with a spluttering, coughing sound, leaving the headlights on. Then the car submitted to gravity, rolling over, roof buckling with a sound that reminded them of a crumpled soda can.

There was one crucial piece of information the hunters had missed, an assumption they made on insufficient experience. The experience that the wolves held back when they fought, scared of hurting anyone. However, they had only fought one wolf head on, and that wolf never, never wanted to hurt anyone. Every claw strike, every swing, kick, punch, was made with the intent to defend. To protect. The pack now descended onto the hunters with another goal in mind, a goal vocalised by roars, loud snarls, and soon terrified screams.

HUNT.

Emma crushed a window with a punch, the thrill of the hunt burning in her red eyes as she reached into the car, claws grasping for prey, hunting, attacking, tearing into the seat. A boot kicked back, grazing her light fur, only to get snatched up by Nick’s quick jaws. Emma tore the hunter’s seatbelt to shreds, setting him free only to allow Nick to drag the screaming hunter into the shadows of the woods. The man clawed at the gravel; his eyes wide with panic as he reached after his friends in the car. Friends who only could watch as he disappeared into the darkness, his screams still echoing between the pines. The terrifying claws retreated from the window, leaving tears in the décor behind. Three wolves now circled the car, studying their prey, filling their lungs with the scent of fear. Dylan could smell it from his position, where he was hiding, waiting on his cue. He shouldn’t find this as fun as he did. The hunt was thrilling, intoxicating, the fire in his veins welcome, exciting, dangerous. Terrifying, even as the hunger wasn’t there. The screaming from the first hunter stopped. One was taken care of. Jacob dug his claws into the metal and ripped off a door with terrifying ease, throwing it into the woods, allowing Emma to descend upon the screaming woman within, hooking her claws into cloth and drag her out of the car. The hunter used her slim frame to her advantage, slipping her narrow shoulders out of her jacket, leaving it hanging in Emma’s claws. She didn’t get far, as Laura chased after, looking like a ghost in the night. The pale werewolf pounced upon the hunter, knocking her to the ground, lowering her jaws towards the shaking woman, letting a growl and hot breath roll of her tongue. Her quarry didn’t move, the woman could only shake in fear, hands covering her neck. Laura huffed and grabbed her arms, one hand easily enveloping her wrists. Then she dragged her off into the forest, towards snarling shadows and yellow eyes reflected in the scarce light. The screaming was cut short this time. Two gone. Two to go.

That was when the gunshots started to go off. It was Jacob’s que to tip the car again, keep it rolling like a giant hamster ball to rustle the remaining people within, making it impossible to aim. Emma followed the destruction, after tearing the jacket to shreds in anger, jaws ready to snatch up anyone that left the safety of the car. A rifle fell to the ground, only to be snatched up and tossed into the woods a second later. Dylan heard someone crush it in their jaws. The car came to a halt, Emma grabbing aunt Ellie’s boot with her teeth and dragged the yelling woman off into the darkness. She was flailing, screaming, and kicking at Emma’s face. She flinched but was far too angry to care. Instead, she flung the woman across the ground, towards a large rock. The impact pushed the air out of her lungs as she rolled to a stop, looking up to see a pair of paws step out from behind the rock. A pair belonging to a different werewolf, with familiar golden eyes and dark brown fur. Dylan growled at her, and for once, an emotion different from anger flashed across the woman’s face as she realized her position. Fear. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Instead, he grabbed her left arm, Emma her right, and they hoisted her up, hurrying through the woods, carrying her off towards one of the cabins. Emma pushed the woman inside and locked her up, chained her wrists to a bedpost with the same chains they bought to hold themselves. Emma searched through the woman’s pockets, taking away a knife and her phone. Dylan met the woman’s gaze, the fear replaced by confusion, then anger as she struggled against the chains.
“You will regret this.” She spat, the anger back in her eyes. Dylan sighed, rising onto his hind legs, towering over the woman. She was so tiny. He could envelop her head with one hand if he wanted to. He huffed, teeth inches from her face, snapping his jaws shut with an audible sound. He wished he could tell her that he didn’t want to do this. But they had to. So, he picked up the note from his pocket, handing it to her. Stepping outside as she read it.

“You gave me no choice.”

“Let me out, you filthy mutts!” Ellie hissed though her teeth, crumpling the note to a ball in her thin hands. Emma stuck out her tongue and flipped her off before shutting the door in her face. Dylan sighed as she locked it, relieved that the woman was locked up. Emma grinned at him, giving his shoulder an encouraging shove as they hurried back to the car, hearing muffled screams from two other cabins.

Separate them. Take care of the leader. And so they did, surrounding Yasmin, the only one left in a trashed car with broken windows and buckled roof, nine werewolves slowly, slowly circling the car. Waiting. Swiping at the broken metal to see if she flinched. Snapping their jaws at her through the windows. Trying to bait out an attack, keep her on her toes, scare her into making a stupid decision. Dylan found Ryan the second he was back, the black fur and warm amber eyes attracting him like a beacon among the warm, familiar bodies. Ryan greeted him with a happy whine, buffing their heads together. Hello. Dylan joined him in their march around the car, sticking to his side, their shoulders touching.

Hurt us. Prey hurt us. Dangerous prey. Hunt. Hunt!

Kaitlyn dove through a window, claws grabbing Yasmin who screamed, driving a knife into Kaitlyn’s arm, a yelp leaving her, the scent of her blood on the wind, sparking anger in her packmates. Jacob’s big claws enveloped her neck from behind and he dragged her out the window, his hand hugging her torso like a deadly harness. He held her up, Emma jumping, mockingly snapping her jaws at the woman’s feet. Yasmin looked down, to a field of teeth and claws, angry eyes, and barking jaws. Nine people whom she’d hurt. She spat curses, kicked at Jacob’s arm, fighting, fuelled by rage and fear. If Jacob wanted to, he could kill her in a second. But what’s the fun with that? It would cut the hunt short. He let out a challenging bark, dangling the hunter over his packmates, letting them jump to snap at her feet, Abi catching a shoelace, bowing down on all fours as she tugged at it, pulling the boot of with a snap of her neck. They didn’t need to jump. Yasmin was the same height as Dylan’s jaws. They didn’t need to jump, but it was fun.
“Murderer.” Yasmin spat as she recognized Dylan. “Too scared to face us on your own, huh?” It was the words of a woman who knew she’d lost.

They dragged her back to the lodge, howling at the top of their lungs. They were safe. They were safe! Ryan leaned to Dylan’s side as they dragged Yasmin up the stairs to the lodge, towards Travis that waited with a pair of cuffs.

Safe.

“You promised to leave them alone.” Travis said, slapping the cuffs onto Yasmin’s wrists, the sound of his voice stilling the pack, their ears up. Yasmin spat at him, only making him sigh.
“Your actions have cost a man his life, you do realize that?” Travis said with a grave voice.
“I didn’t eat him.” Yasmin spat, fire in her eyes, hair tousled and sticky with blood at her temple. “That’s what they did to Jonah, chewed his flesh from his bones, tore his head from his body, they f*cking ate him! He’s dead because of them!” She yelled, spitting her words in the wolves’ direction. Dylan felt nauseous, a freezing bucket of shame pouring over him, filling his veins with ice. The blood was back on his tongue the flesh between his teeth the bone cracking under his claws and he was hungry, hungry, hungry. Seven pair of eyes caught his reaction. Confused, Abi letting out a worried whine, Jacob tilting his head, one ear flopping down. Terrified, Nick taking a step back in shock. Angry, Laura roaring in rage over what she thought was a lie. Protective, all of them stepping forward, shielding him from the hunter’s rage. Dylan shrunk to the ground, tucking his head under Ryan’s chin, trying to disappear into his shadow, away from it all. He wanted to throw up. Disappear. Sink into the ground. Hide in Ryan’s arms that wrapped around him. Travis’ gaze darkened, his jaw clenching with clod resolve.
“Stop blaming the kids for your mistakes.” He said, voice grave and filled with a strange calm. “You lost your child. That gives you no right to kill someone else’s.”
“They aren’t children.” She hissed at him, struggling against his grip on the cuffs. “You’re a blind fool if you can’t see that!” She swung her elbow into Travis’ gut, the sheriff doubling over, Yasmin making a run for it. She got an inch of freedom before Laura stepped forward with a roar, backhanding the woman and sending her flying. Several heads ducked as she flew, landing on the steps up to the lodge. It was a gross sound of ribs cracking and wood breaking, Yasmin coughing and spitting, scrambling to get to her feet. She was limping, bleeding, her breath wheezing, yet she was moving, screaming curses at them.
“They aren’t worth the bullets it takes to put them down like the rabid dogs they are!” She spat on the porch, her shoulder slumping, face twisted into a grimace. “They aren’t children. They aren’t-“ The door to the lodge opened behind her.

TWACK

A frying pan hit the back of her head, cutting her hateful words short as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body slumped over like a sack of potatoes. Finally.
“They are my children.” Mrs. Lenivy said, lowering the frying pan in her hand, her expression changing from anger to concern. “Are everyone alright?” Nine baffled wolves and one sheriff stared at her, barely believing what they just saw.

Chapter 34: Steps

Chapter Text

It was a strange calm before the sun rose. The hunters were caught. They were safe. It didn’t feel like it. The anxiety kept crawling down Dylan’s back, tension still held in every muscle. He tried to relax, to breathe. Use the last moments of silence before sunrises to curl up in the one place he tried to reclaim as his, the radio shack. The place where he got bitten.

Despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to wish it’d gone any different. Maybe that was a true sign of him becoming a monster, not regretting a sickness that turned his skin inside out, that brought his mother, his boyfriend, his friends, into danger. That killed and ate a man. He laid on his side, left arm stretched out over the dried puddle of his blood, the same position he fell into that horrible night. The scar of Silas’ teeth was still visible on his dark, tough hide, through the fur covering the top of his arm where it trailed up his shoulder. An eternal memory of his turning. Still, he was alive. Physically, he was stronger, mentally, he was hurt and beaten. Dragged through unimaginable horrors of blood, flesh, and death. Only this time, he was the thing stalking victims in the night. The thing with claws and teeth, with strength to flip a car, with a bite to infect. He inhaled, dragged the scent of the old, human blood through his nose, tasting the fear, the slight infection, tainted with that sickness, the so, so, so very human that used to be him.

That wasn’t him. That was him.

He wasn’t the sick, twisted monster Silas had turned him into that night. He might be a monster, but not a sick one. Whatever that was died with Silas. Could a sickness affect a curse like that? Dylan didn’t know, he was just thankful to not lose himself to the beast. He just wished that he didn’t have to use it to harm others. Hunters kept pushing and prodding him down a path of violence and wasn’t ready when he dragged them with him into the battle leading towards blood, death, and loss. What the hell would he say to mom? He killed someone. It would break her heart. How would Travis handle this? Would he arrest him? Or outright shoot him? What should he say to the pack?

He heard Ryan approach the shack before he scratched at the door and opened it, the faint light on the sky outlining his towering form, his amber eyes bright among the black fur. The sun would rise soon. Ryan ducked into the shack, tilting his head with a soundless question. You okay? Dylan shrugged, lowering his head to the floor with a huff. Tired. Ryan prowled into the room on all four, placing a “kiss” between his eyes, warm, familiar breath ghosting over Dylan’s skin. Ryan moved strands of fur from his boyfriend’s eyes, stroking gentle claws down his cheek. Dylan closed his eyes with a sigh, allowed himself to relax under his touch. Lean his heavy head to Ryan’s palm, exhale, relish in their scents that mixed with each other. As it should be. Ryan held out his hand, the gesture asking Dylan to follow. There was something else there that he couldn’t vocalize. They were needed? Dylan didn’t know, so he sighed, grabbed Ryan’s clawed paw, and rose to his feet, leaving the last trace of his humanity behind.

When they approached the lodge, fingers woven together, Dylan realized what Ryan meant. Mark was pacing up and down the deck, clearly anxious about what to come, gaze returning to the woods, on the look out for the pack. His fellow hunters were held inside the lodge in the warmth, handcuffed and stewing with anger. It was probably the reason for him to escape outside. Kaitlyn and Jacob were playing tug of war with a tire from the car they wrecked to pass the time, their frightening appearance clashing with their playful actions and loud barks. Jacob was dragging Kaitlyn across the yard, the dirt filled with claw marks from their struggle. Jacob barked a quick greeting, his jaws still clamped around the tire. Kaitlyn was busy trying to steal it from him, teeth dug into the rubber and paws disturbing the dirt as she shook her head violently.
“They must’ve reached the graves by now, right? Did something happen?” Mark muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he kept pacing. Jacob turned his big head towards him, Kaitlyn still attached and growling. He huffed, an easy, calming sound. The same sound you did when going to sleep, or laying down. Relaxing. Calm. Mark tugged on a loose thread on his sleeve, wrapping it around his fingers, his emotions anything but calm. Jacob lowered his ears in defeat. Kaitlyn’s teeth tore the tire in half and the fight was on again as she darted down the lawn with one part, Jacob following with thundering steps and playful barks. Dylan adamantly repressed the urge to follow.

“What if they don’t get there in time? Do we have to wait another month?” Mark stopped in his tracks, his attention turning to the wolves that ascended the steps towards him, a spark of fear visible in his eyes. Dylan followed Ryan, close enough to nibble at his haunches.
“Do you guys think they will manage to break the curse?” Mark asked as they stepped onto the deck.
“The hauntings are driving them mad.” He groaned, nodding to the lodge with the hunters inside. “Maybe they will calm down when their deceased family is able to rest. I know I will.” Ryan pulled out a notebook, writing something for Mark, who read it with a frown. Dylan leaned against the railing, listening while watching the edge of the forest for any traces of their pack.
“Well, the hauntings are f*cking terrifying. I can hear Kyle's voice, it’s like he’s standing right next to me. I’ve seen him too.” Mark swallowed as he remembered. “How he looked when he died. Half of his face is just gone. He’s in pain, asking for help. Whenever I’m alone, I can hear his breathing, it sounds like he’s dying.” His gaze was fixated on something distant, foul memories haunting his mind. “I just want to help him. He’s suffering.” Dylan couldn’t imagine the horror. It explained the hunters’ behaviour, fear and sorrow do strange things to you.
“I hope dad will rest.” Mark whispered, knowingly meeting Dylan’s gaze, dread hanging over them like a dark cloud. He knew. Dylan was relieved that he couldn’t speak, as he knew no words would be able to express the weight of his guilt. “Travis told me what happened.” Mark continued, tragedy written on his face, grief draped over his shoulders. “The dad I knew died with my brother. It just took a while for him to stop breathing.” His pain felt like an icy arrow through the chest, and Dylan could feel it himself. He remembered how it was to lose a father. The shock, disbelief, the short numbness when you move through your life on autopilot. He picked up his notepad, gaining Mark’s attention, but the pen only hovered above the paper. It took a minute for him to put the words on paper.
“I’m sorry.” It was weak words, but it was what he had to offer. He didn’t want to dive back into the downwards spiral of self-hatred, not when Mark needed the support. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. I know it’s a poor excuse.” Ryan joined him by the railing, leaning his head onto his shoulder.
“It is.” Mark said, reading the scribbles on the notepad. “A sh*tty excuse for a sh*tty situation. I’m alone. My brother is dead. My dad is dead. The rest of my family hates me and tried to get me eaten alive. Oh, how that backfired.” He almost chuckled at the morbidity. Dylan shrunk into his arms he leaned on the railing, pulling back his ears with a whine. Ryan ran his claws through his hair, down his back, stroked his massive shoulders and kissed his cheek. It was more of a huff and a lick, but Dylan still liked it. He picked up the notepad again.
“I understand if you hate me.”
“If you weren’t an eight-foot-tall wolf monster I would probably punch you. Not that I would be able to reach your face even normally, you tall f*ck.” He nudged Dylan’s arm with his elbow, a light grin on his face. Dylan huffed a laugh.

That’s when they heard the howl of their pack mates from the forest, from behind the Hackett manor. The howl signalling that the blood of beast had been spilt upon the graves. Mark’s posture immediately relaxed, shoulders sinking and knees almost buckling, tears in his eyes. Dylan and Ryan on the other hand, tensed up, ears perked up, waiting for something to happen. Except it didn’t. Kaitlyn and Jacob kept play-fighting over the tire, the sun kept rising, the wind kept rustling their fur, their breath turned to mist in the crisp morning air, dew gathered onto the blades of grass, and the wolves kept existing, waiting for sunrise.

There was a shift in the air as the sun reached above the trees, the forest letting out a sigh as the wind picked up, branches rustling in the soft morning glow. Something changed, a heavy blanket of darkness was lifted from the quarry, and it felt like the first true rays of sun could warm the air again. Chasing away the darkness, the sickness. It had been a place of sorrow for so long, a place of loss, blood, pain, and monsters. It changed with the rising sun, a legacy begun anew as the nine wolves shed their skin and stepped into their human forms once more. Some welcoming it. Others dreading the conversation that needed to be had. Dylan felt the sun hit his face, a tension easing from his shoulders, warmth spreading over his furred skin as he relaxed. Exhaustion fell over him, the sun itching his skin, and he closed his eyes to welcome the new day. The wolf withdrew, yawning and curling up in his chest to sleep, behind bars of bone and chains of flesh. He sunk into himself, into warmth and blood, feeling iron on his tongue, teeth falling out, the world was gore, flesh, and warmth as he could feel his human form tear through the fur of the wolf. He shook his head, dragged his fingers down his arms to quicken the process and stumbled forward, stumbling away from paws and onto feet, leaving a carnage behind. Jacob was rolling around on the ground again, the method surprisingly effective. Not that it made him look less like an idiot. Kaitlyn shook her arms once, twice, and ran her hands through her hair, grimacing at the mess. Ryan stood, shirtless, running his hands down his face, spitting blood, shaking chunks of shed from his arms. And Dylan, he ran.

He hurried up the steps to the lodge, grabbing a towel and heading towards the closest shower. He just needed some time. Alone. To breathe. To remember that he had nails instead of claws and hair instead of fur. He pretended that he didn’t hear the footsteps following him.
“Dyl.” While it was a relief to hear Ryan’s voice again, Dylan wanted nothing but to run from it. “Dylan!” Please don’t follow, please don’t follow. He tugged the door open, hurrying inside, ignoring the sound of his mother in the kitchen. Instead, he fled up the stairs, leaving bloody footprints behind him.
“Dylan, please let me talk to you.” It would be a pain to clean up. Not that he cared. He pulled the door to the one bathroom closed, only for it to stop halfway, a bloody, dark hand grabbing it.
“Babe, please.” Ryan said, words filled with helpless desperation. “Don’t shut me out.” Dylan couldn’t meet his gaze, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, a knot in his throat stealing his words away. He tore another human apart with his teeth. How wasn’t he a monster? What should he even say? What wanted Ryan him to say? A broken, defeated sob tore itself from his throat, and he allowed Ryan to wrap his arms around him. Even if he felt like he didn’t deserve to stay above the dark waves, his cliff was here to keep him breathing.

“I killed someone.” Dylan’s words were small, broken, terrified of this cruel reality. “He was going to kill me.” The barrel pointed at his face, the blood rushing in his ears, the smell of fear, the hatred in Jonah’s eyes.
“You didn’t kill him.” Ryan pulled away to cup his face with his hands, like he wanted to be sure that Dylan was unharmed. No blinded eyes, torn ears, or broken nose. “I did.”
“I...”
“You tore his leg off.” It made Dylan feel sick again. “You lost control, and they pushed you to it. I didn’t see you… eat anything. And even if you did...” Ryan met his gaze, dark, beautiful eyes, looking into his soul with such warmth and strength, gentle fingers drying his tears away. “... that changes nothing. I... I still love you.” Dylan’s world pulled the handbrake, skidded to a halt, rolled over twice and down a cliff, landing in some valley from which he tried to retrieve his thoughts. He blinked twice, processing what he just heard.
“This is so not the moment to freeze...” Ryan got interrupted as Dylan kissed those silly, beautiful lips, pulling him close, holding him while a storm of emotions raged in his chest. Warmth, happiness, soaring over the shame and sorrow, overshadowing the fear and dread. Ryan loved him. Ryan loved him! He grinned, breaking the kiss only because he smiled like a fool.
“I love you too.” He smiled through tears and trauma, wrapping his arms around this beautiful man before him.
“You were quiet for a solid 30 seconds. I thought I finally broke you.” He kissed him again, warmth, safety, and love. He wasn’t alone. He was loved, cared for, wanted, in Ryan’s arms, with his scent in his lungs and his breath on his tongue, Dylan finally allowed himself to feel it. After this hellish night, after all hellish nights, the trauma would take long to heal, but they would get through it.

With tears in their eyes, smiles on their lips, wolves in their blood, and love in their hearts, they would get through it.

Together.

Together.