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WOLF

By: A.G. Milhorn

WOLF and all characters, locations and properties are © 2018 by A.G. Milhorn, all rights reserved.

Chapter 1

"Change is the only constant."

• Heraclitus.

"Everybody wants to rule the world."

• Tears for Fears.

Wade Johnson Memorial Hospital stood tall in the night, its windows glowing, the glass panes blazing as if they were the eyes of a beast to make Lovecraft himself quake. Beige concrete walls rose up more than ten floors with curving sections, giving the entire construction a very modern space age appearance. Surrounding it were several other buildings, each one mirroring the hospital which sat at the center. There was the cardiac center, the neurology office and even a psychiatrist and dedicated rehabilitation lab for physical therapy patients. Most of those offices were quiet, their occupants long gone home for the night, both patients and doctors eager to retreat to their domestic miseries, content to leave the thriving pulse of the city behind for another eight hours. The medical complex itself was well lit with OLED street lights keeping those who arrived late at night or those who were leaving their sorrows inside feeling safe as they walked to their cars. The feeling of safety was an illusion as safety always is in the world.

Surrounding the hospital were even taller towers of glass and steel, punctuated by advertising signs and company logos. Dawson City was the home of just over one million souls and the city, much like its sister in New York, never slept. Life in the city came in waves. During the day, the citizens pretended to be civilized, running errands, making deals at the stock exchange, yelling into phones, texting and driving while at home, at night, the same people were afraid of the night life that came scurrying out of the back alleys and deserted streets of the city slums. Drugs traded hands as easy as the bodies which bought favors with the sinful rich and poor alike. Sirens wailed and cars roared down the cracked and tired asphalt.

Back at the hospital emergency department however, human life, in all its diverse horror, thrived non-stop but was especially virulent at night and some would say more so than at any other time of the year than on full moon nights and tonight was such a night. The security office located on the fourth floor was no exception. Monitors lined the walls in four rows of four monitors each before a giant curving desk. On the desk sat beeping computer consoles, winking red and green status lights of each floor and a set of phones linked wirelessly through Bluetooth to the head set of one Martin Simmons. Simmons was a large man with a gut that belied his previous military service. It strained his dark black uniform somewhat and hung gently over his utility belt. While his belt did not have a gun, it did contain pepper spray, a set of electronic pass keys, disposable plastic cuff binders, a flashlight and a two way radio. Simmons had held the post of security chief for the hospital for more than fifteen years and was proud of his service. Wade Johnson Memorial was one of the few hospitals in the country that had taken the approach of the National Health System in the UK by having trained security staff on hands at all time. Simmons had personally trained more than thirty officers in non-violent submission techniques, conflict resolution, safe restraint techniques and naturally, given where the wonderful city around them, self defense that was decidedly off the record and off the books as well.

He had a hard jaw line and drilling gray eyes set into a stubbled face that hadn't been shaven in four days. He kept his hair shaved thin, a tribute to his military service and it made it harder for violent patients to grab his hair and use it against him. The phone in front of him jangled and he hit the glowing blue button on the ear piece in his right ear.

"Security main. Simmons." Was his curt and to the point answer. Simmons had no patience for bullshit and made the same apply to his conversational tactic. Many viewed him as a hardass but he was good at what he did.

"Roger that." He said to the voice only he could hear as activity buzzed around him. Officers came and went through the office. Somewhere, something beeped incessantly. His hands flew across the keyboard, the screens on the computer flashed and with a smooth motion, he flipped a switch on the camera switchboard next to the computer, moving the joystick control, making the monitor on the desk switch views to the emergency room. Clicking through he found what he was searching for.

"Brian!" he barked.

Instantly, a human officer appeared by his side. The officer was young, 28 years old and was stocky. He wasn't chunky at all but rather his lean muscle was built for strength, yet not defined. Very much an average guy who hit the gym a few days of the week as required for his job. Nothing more. Standing at six foot five, with a short trimmed beard that was thicker on his chin, Brian was one of the taller officers along with Connors, and his black uniform was just like Simmons, his belt having the same accoutrements. Some of the female nurses were always chasing him around and giving him side eyes and Brian knew it but paid it no mind. His face was calm and he was easy going, his strange amber-brown eyes and medium cut brown hair that he kept cut short but not shaven framed his features.

The keys on his belt jangled as he came trotting across the room. He had been doing reports, Simmons thought quickly. Brian was a dedicated officer, one of the few that didn't mind paperwork and Simmons knew he could be counted on. Simmons didn't even look at him when Brian stopped next to the desk. He knew the kid was already taking in the situation by his sudden intense gaze at the screen. On screen, a nurse was being supported and led away by two others; her arm was dark red, slashed from elbow to wrist. A shirtless man covered in street tattoos stood in the hallway, pointing and gesticulating wildly. Other nurses and doctors were trying to keep him contained but were obviously out of their depth.

"What's the situation?" Brian asked as Simmons zoomed into Exam Room 12.

"Patient assaulted one of the nurses. Meth, they suspect. They can't get him under control. Take Connors and head down and sort it out." Simmons ordered bluntly, almost as he was tired. Brian knew better. Simmons had been here over a decade and had seen every depraved and crazy disgusting behavior people could get into.

"On it."

Brian turned and made for the door, adjusting his blue security vest to make sure it was in place correctly. It was heavy, made with Kevlar. Reportedly, it would stop anything short of a high caliber round. Thankfully, even with the rise in mass shootings in the last year, the hospital had not been a target. Stepping into the hallway, he pulled his radio from his belt and keyed it up to channel 4.

"Connors, copy?" he said, his husky voice echoing a bit off of the white tiled floor. It gleamed and as he walked, he could see his own reflection. He side stepped a nurse with a whispered "Excuse me" before continuing towards the elevator. As he stopped before the twin doors of the elevator and hit the down button, his radio squawked back. A welcome voice was on the other end of the transmission. Warm and strong, the voice was that of Elijah Connors.

"Connors here."

Brian stepped onto the elevator doors and the slid closed behind him, the car bouncing slightly as he moved into it. He hit the button for ground floor and with a click it flared to life as the car began to drop slowly.

"A 10-56 in the emergency room. Exam Room 12. Fuck head assaulted a nurse. They got her out and have him boxed in but not for long. He's high on something probably. Meet me there." He said into the radio before putting it back on his belt clip. Reaching onto his right side, he pulled his pepper spray from its holster, checked the levels and put it back. He wished the hospital would let them have tazers but the board drew a line at that and said it would preset a PR problem.

A PR problem or the difference between us and the staff being a pot full of shit and piss to the face by some hopped up drug addled loser, Brian thought darkly. A moment later, the elevator hit the bottom floor and the elevator doors open onto chaos.

Two doctors, Dr. Wilkes and Dr. King had tried to take charge of the situation. Dr. Wilkes was a tall older man with thinning gray hair and a parrot nose while Dr. King was a feisty woman in her late forties. She took no shit from anyone but even she was cowed. Both of them were trying to talk someone down who was encircled by nurses and orderlies in green and white scrubs. The nurses desk was a cacophony of noises as computers beeped and phones and pagers cried for attention. Brian quickly tried to find someone who wasn't immediately engaged so he could get a situation report. As he looked he saw Connors come trotting up the hallway.

Connors was a sight to behold and often his mere presence was enough to stop any unruly patient from continuing to act out, though in reality he preferred to resolve conflicts without getting hands on. His nature was a poet, not a fighter, but when he needed to fight, he was certainly more than capable. He too was six-foot five and his ears easily gave him another three to four inches. Covered in thick but short brown and black fur from the tips of his ears to his feet in his boots, Elijah Connors was a "Were", short for "werewolf". Even though such a name implied Universal Studios monsters, people like Connors were no such thing. At least, not quite. His head and face was every bit that of a German Shepherd: A long snout that, when he smiled or opened his mouth to any degree more than speech showed impressive and deadly looking teeth that he kept cleaned to an ivory shine. Normally his smile was warm and welcoming, despite his toothy grin, but Brian had seen it exactly the opposite at least once when a patient had gotten particularly nasty towards a staff member. Connors black nose twitched as the scent of fear and blood hit him and Brian saw him wince. His sense of smell, vision and hearing were reportedly several times that of a normal human as were his strength and speed. His tail lashed behind him, betraying his heightened tension despite his professional stillness.

Connors had large hands, human in shape but covered in the same fur though somewhat thinner with black blunted nails instead of the flat translucent pink nails of a human. His palms and undersides of his fingers had dark skin, similar to the pads of a dog. In the locker room, while changing out, Brian had noticed that his feet were also human in shape, covered in the same fur, but with the black nails and similarly padded bottoms. Brian was very relieved to see him and Connors dipped hs head in acknowledgement as he caught up to his colleague. Connors, was somewhat built better than Brian was; he was known to favor boxing in his free time.

"Glad to see to you. What's the cluster fuck today?" Connors asked as Brian pegged a free staffer to question quickly. "Let's find out. Dr. Jones!" He called as the two officers made their way over to a female doctor who was standing behind the nurses desk, directing the melee as best as she could. Dr. Raven Jones was a petite woman, much younger than her station belied, only a few years older than Brian himself. She had been a medical prodigy and was one of the leading staff doctors who were on call at all times. When she had arrived, most of the seasoned staff dismissed her as a young upstart but she had quickly proven she had not only the wit but the skill to put them in their place, quickly earning their respect.

Her lab coat was stained with blood but it wasn't hers. Connors shook his head when Brian looked from the blood to Dr. Jones and to Connors. That was a relief. It was handy having Elijah around for more than just his intimidating frame. Dr. Jones herself had medium shaded skin, not quite tanned but not pale either. It was without blemish just as her face was heart shaped and her cool violet eyes were sharp and moved quickly from both men and back to the crowd, making sure she still had a moderate amount of control.

She has Elizabeth Taylor's eyes, Brian thought, before shaking himself mentally to get back on track. Tossing her long dark chestnut ponytail behind her, she rapidly appraised both himself and Connors.

"God, I'm glad to see both of you. Patient came in about an hour ago. He was complaining about headaches and vomiting. He was burning up but wasn't running a fever. We suspected it was drugs when his eyes didn't have a proper pupilary response but when Jenny tried to take his blood for testing he attacked her. He broke off a piece of the bed frame and slashed her arm with it." Raven's soft but confident voice belied her British heritage. She had moved to the United States a few years after she got her doctorate. "Jenny is fine. I had one two of the other nurses take her for treatment in 13 and she's stitched up but she's definitely put out."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Brian snarled. He hated a druggie. He looked at Connors. "Let's get this over with before anyone else gets hurt." Moving quickly, the two men pushed their way through the crowd of staffers and got their first look at the source of the chaos in the emergency room.

Exam Room 12 was a disaster. The cabinet doors had been yanked cleanly off their hinges and hung limply like dead animals. Their contents were strewn all over the floor. The life support monitors were shattered, spewing sparks and the bed had been shoved against a wall, a tray of tools and diagnostic gear scattered on the ground. There on the white tile, scarlet blood was drying into a sticky puddle. The gash that Jenny had sustained must have been worse than Dr. Jones let on, Brian thought as he and Connors sized up the man in the room.

He was about five foot eight, with pale skin and that tattoos that Brian had seen on the monitor were even clearer now, though he supposed they only made sense to the man himself since most of the imagery was unfamiliar. He did note that the man carried the brand of the 86ers, a notorious street gang affiliated not only with drive by shootings but also being one of the major drug dealing gangs in the city. His hair was patchy, balding in places, and had at one point been a pale blonde. Now, it just looked dead, much like the man's face. Deep-set blood shot eyes stared out of bruised hollow sockets. His nose was dripping blood but it didn't appear to be broken. Scarring ran from his biceps to his elbows and puckered scar tissue told the stories of bullets that hadn't been picky. The man was pacing back and forth wildly, muttering to himself, his shirt discarded on the floor, his black jeans ripped and torn over filthy sneakers who's laces flopped carelessly. He was shaking uncontrollably and he hadn't seemed to notice the crowd around him, as if he had forgotten he was even on the planet to begin with.

"Jones? What's his name?" Connors called over his shoulder as Brian moved in. The entire time, Connors never took his amber eyes off of his partner or the muttering pacing psychopath.

"Don't know. Couldn't get any coherent answers out of him." Brian heard Jones call back.

"Wonderful." Brian said under his breath as he eased closer. He felt Connors stop next to him and felt the heat the other man gave off. Weres were known to be warmer than base humans and it was a reassuring thing to feel to remind you that you weren't alone when you were faced with a drug addled maniac.

"Smell anything on him?" Brian asked, having long ago learned to rely on Connors sense of smell. Connors had been an air port security officer a few years back and he had actually undergone drug sniffing training which amused the airport security staff to no end but he had a proven track record. The airport had quickly phased out all of their actual dogs and Connors became one of the highest paid employees before he decided enough was enough and for reason, Elijah would never speak of why.

Moving a few inches closer, Connors stuck out his neck, his black moist nose flaring as he inhaled, careful not to close his eyes, tracking the crazy man like a predator.

"He stinks. Fuck me. He's not taken a bath in a week...goddamn." Connors huffed, clearing his lungs. "It's not meth. It's strong whatever it is. It's not bath salts either. It's some kind of stimulant and I'd lay money on that for sure. He probably doesn't even know what he's doing."

"Great. Let's try to get him out then without hurting anyone. Then the police can have him." Brian whispered to his partner, gently coming closer as to not alarm the man who's mind was not within ten miles of the hospital room he was in.

"Jones: Have the police meet us outside. Remind them it's a 10-56 and to get the lead out of their asses." Connors called back to Dr. Jones as she moved off to pick up the handset and make the call. "Sir, can you understand me?" Connors asked, holding up a placating open palm, his tail lashing behind him. He forced himself to make it stop, his heart pounding as his ears laid flat back along his skull. He felt the fur on the back of his neck raise up.

The man stopped moving and muttering to himself and look up, casting a sideways glance towards the security officers. Behind them, Dr. Jones motioned everyone to clear away. There was no need to get anyone else hurt. Now it was just Brian and Connors. The man's eyes caught the light and twinkled with moisture.

He staggered around and stood facing the two officers and his eyes passed over Brian as if he weren't worth looking at but when he properly saw Connors, his face changed, showing the first expression so far.

It was a dark twisted expression that warped his features as his mouth distended into a scream of panic and absolute fear. For the first time he spoke, his voice trembling and raspy like a smoker.

"No. Not you. Its all you. You did it...you fucking cunts did it....all of you. Why did you hurt me so bad?"

Brian and Connors looked at each other and frowned. "Brother, I don't know what you are talking about. We didn't do anything to you. We want to help you. Can you calm down and come with us?" Brian implored, using his calm but firm officer voice.

The man's hands shot up to his thin whispy hair and grabbed it as he violently turned and kicked the bed hard, rattling the metal frame, sending a spider web crack into the masonry behind the wall with a loud crunch.

What the fuck is he on? Brian wondered. His hand left hand slipped slowly down towards the pepper spray, wishing more than ever the hospital would let him carry tazers. The man turned back on them, ripping out strands of his hair, blood seeping from his scalp.

"YOU LIED TO ME! Gods and monsters....all of you...YOU WANT TO KILL ME! TAKE IT FROM ME!" he screamed, snot and blood hanging from his nose as Brian and Connors stepped into the room less than four feet from the man who was looking less and less sane by the second.

"Listen, man, you need to come with us. We can talk about what ever it is outside. Its fresh out there. We can get you dressed and head out--" Brian said indicating the man's discarded shirt among the glass. The officer's boots crunched on the debris as they both carefully tried to avoid the congealing blood on the floor.

The man's white skin gleamed with sweat, and for the first time Brian looked directly into the man's eyes.

They were dilated so large, it was like he had no iris. His sclera was more than blood shot; a blood vessel had actually burst. The man's blood pressure must be through the roof, Brian thought as the light from the hallway outside caught the man's eyes and again they twinkled with a hellish sparkle. For a moment, Brian imagined he saw them flash red but then they were back to normal. Sunk deep into the hollows of his bruised purple stained emaciated eye sockets, the man's gaze wasn't that of a man but of a wild beast. There was no sanity left and it was in that moment that Brian knew the confrontation wasn't going to end peacefully. They were going to end up on the floor and it was just a matter of when. He adjusted his weight and stance to better brace for a tackle or a fall, depending on which came first.

"You..." the man whimpered desperately again before his broken voice became a harsh shriek as he pinned Connors with a deadly glare. "It was ...you. Like you. You gave us this. YOU AREN"T TAKING IT!"

Brian saw the man's right hand come out of the shadows and he knew the moment had come. It passed so slowly it seemed as his muscles tensed and his heart rate shot up, his brain exploding on all cylinders. In his right hand, the man held a jagged shank of metal. It looked like a part of the bed rail. How he had torn it from its posts was a shocking mystery that was probably answered in the haze of a drug fueled rage. The tip and leading edge of it were stained red like rust but Brian knew that it was Jenny's blood. The man's knuckles on his improvised blade were bone white, his grip was iron and the muscle stood out in his neck and arm as he swung it at Connors face.

Time resumed its normal pace as Connors ducked the deadly blow, stepping into the swing instead of away from, tucking his large frame down and the man's arm. With a charge forward, Connors threw himself into the man's chest. With a thud they both slammed into the bed against the far wall, splintering the masonry, sending up a cloud of brick dust and drywall. Brian moved instantly, driving his shoulder roughly into the man's right arm pit and shoulder joint. He heard it crack audibly with a sickening squelch but the man didn't seem to feel a thing. Throwing all 260 pounds of his weight into the hold, Brian held the man's arm extended while the man himself struggled violently beneath Connors, nearly bucking the bigger Were off of him.

"Fucking hell he's stronger than I am!" Connors growled, baring his fangs in the strain to keep the man held down in place. Brian managed to grab the man's wrist of the hand that held the railing and pressed down hard, driving his thumb into the nerves that converged under the palm. In a normal person, that would have forced the hand to open and release but this man felt nothing and his grip remained that of a python on his improvised weapon.

"Goddamn I can't get it from him!" Brian yelled as he was nearly thrown loose. Up close, the man smelt of body odor, musky sweat and gun oil. There was something else there too, a sharp chemical scent that burned Brian's eyes. He was cold, clammy and slippery like a fucking fish. Brian felt Connors weight next to him struggling as the man nearly kicked them free again. With a snarl, Connors forced his temper down and arm barred the man across the chest to hold him place with the most leverage, kicking aside the man's swinging legs, positioning himself to keep him from kicking either one of them.

"Break it if you have to! He's going to kill us if he gets loose!" Connors roared and a second later Brian felt his partner's body jump and he heard a sharp exhalation of surprise and pain. Risking a quick glance, Brian saw Connors tense up more than he already was and tears form in his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"Bastard got me in the balls. Break his fucking wrist if you can't get him to respond to nerve pressure. We don't have a choice!" Connors growled through gritted teeth, panting in agony.

Straining, Brian managed to get the man's hand in a grip just below his palm and using the leverage of his own body and the thrashing of the man himself, Brian gave a single sharp twist.

The wet meaty snap of breaking bone echoed through the room and the man let out a shrill scream that was like nails on a chalkboard but his hand opened and the jagged bedrail dropped to the floor with a clang, bouncing across the tile and landing well out of reach.

"COCK SUCKERS!!!" The man snarled but the fight had gone out of him somewhat. Not by much but some. Forcing himself to stand up, Connors grabbed the man by the shirt front and with a look to Brian that communicated more than words could have, the two of them managed to haul the man up to a standing position, restraining him arms behind his back, not being particularly gentle with the man's broken wrist.

Moving as quickly as they could, the two officers penguin walked the man forward, careful to avoid the blood on the floor. He bucked them again and Brian had had enough. Slipping a set of plastic restraints from his belt he slipped them around the man's messy wrists and pulled them tightly closed. The man yelped in protest but Brian's adrenaline was too high at the moment to care. The man had injured a nurse, attacked them, hurt his partner and for what? A quick high? Was it worth it? Brian didn't give a shit at the moment. He was focused on getting his charge out to the parking lot. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw blue lights flashing and knew that help wasn't far off.

The hospital staff and other doctors had done what they could to restore order and for the most part, they had a clear path to the front entrance. On his way out, Brian saw Dr. Jones on the phone talking to what he presumed was the police. She looked the man between them up and down and saw his wrist sticking out at an odd angle and frowned, looking to Brian for an answer. He could only look at her and shrug apologetically. It wasn't that he didn't care; he didn't care for hurting others but there were times, he had learned that you had to defend yourself and others from crack pots like this. No one had forced the drugs into him. It was his choice. If a person wanted to shoot up every fucking day until he died, it was his own business but the moment that hobby began to hurt others was where the line was drawn.

By the time he had finished that thought, Brian noticed that he and Connors had managed to get to the front entrance of the emergency room as the glass sliding doors whooshed out, letting in a rush of hot night air. Through the outer glass walls, he saw two police cruisers swing into the parking lot, their sirens dying as they approached their blue lights staccato lightning in the warm night as they threw crazy shadows.

Stepping out into the night, the men were met by two human uniformed officers, while a third moved past them and went into the hospital to get a statement from Dr. Jones. The next hour seemed to slur in Brian's mind. His adrenaline rush was wearing off now that they had managed to contain the psycho bastard between them and the next actions were going through the motions. Once the man was secured in a back of a squad car and hauled off into the night, the remaining cops stayed behind and took their statements. For a moment while speaking to the lead cop, Brian glanced over at Connors who had sat down on a bench, his head between his knees, his vest hanging open, panting. He knew his partner was in pain and a few moments later, he heard Elijah vomit into the bushes.

Brian cringed, sympathizing with him and a moment later the cop he was talking to brought him back to giving his statement. Everything seemed to blend together. Sound seemed distant, car horns, more sirens, the occasional shout and the hiss of the sliding doors behind them as people came and went, rubber necking at the two guards and the cops. Everyone liked to stare. Then the cop said something that snapped Brian out of his slow motion world.

"So, who broke his wrist? Was it the mutt or you?"

"I'm sorry what?" Brian asked, shaking his head to clear it, wiping sweat from his brow. The cop looked irritated and impatient. He clearly wasn't being paid enough, Brian thought darkly. How boring for him.

"I said, which one of you broke the perps wrist? Was it you or the mutt?" the dark haired cop who's name tag read Ronson asked again, this time with a bit more venom. It took a second for the word's to register in Brian's exhausted mind but when they did, they angered him.

"His name is Elijah and he's one of the best damn officers we have here and no, he didn't. I did. If I didn't break it, that fucker would have gutted both us and you can stick that in the report and shove it up your bigoted ass while you're at." Brian snarled. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Elijah's ears perk towards them at the sound of Brian's raised voice. He knew his partner had heard the cop's calloused remark. Weres were like any other non-white, non-straight, non-Christian people: many people treated them like shit, especially the ones who were stuck in their canine form. Brian didn't exactly understand the science behind why they were but they couldn't shift back to a human form. Most of them could but some, very few, couldn't. That was why they were called werewolves. They were shape-shifters. Most of the right wingers in the country hated them just as much as they hated anyone else that wasn't just like them. It annoyed Brian. Stupidity often did.

The cop frowned at him, disgust curling his lip.

"Is that all?" Brian asked eager to get the interview over with. "Sir." He added condescendingly and pointedly.

"Get out of here. We're done." The cop shrugged and put his notepad in his navy uniform pocket and wandered back into the hospital, noticeably resting his hand on the butt of his gun before giving them one last disgusted glance. Brian looked up in surprise as a motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and saw a WAYZ news van pulling up into the lot. He frowned. What were they doing here? Could it be because of what happened? The security staff dealt with this crap all the time, there was nothing special about tonight. Just in case it was, he quickly ducked behind the bushes and found a set on the bench beside Connors. They were hidden by the cop car and thankfully, the news crew went into the ER with their cameras blazing.

For a few moments, it was mercifully silent. Brian looked over at Elijah who still had his head between his knees, his brown and black tail hanging limply behind him. He saw that Elijah was trembling.

"Hey man, you okay?" he asked his partner, putting a hand on his shoulder. Brian could feel Elijah's body heat radiating out through his uniform and saw the rise and fall of his chest.

Elijah nodded. "Yup. just fine. That fucker got me pretty good though; I'll probably bruise."

Brian cringed. "You heal fast, right?"

Elijah nodded, his ears folded flat against his head, his muzzle raising as he looked his friend in the eyes. "Yeah. But all that pain that normally comes with healing hits all at once...its not as good a gift as it sounds. Trust me. I'll be pissing blood probably in an hour or two before things get back to normal."

"Fuck." Was all Brian could say.

Elijah nodded towards the news van. "Wonder why they're here."

Brian shrugged. "No idea."

A few beats of silence blossomed before Brian looked at his watch. "Hey man. Its 3:30 in the morning. We're in overtime by an hour. Let's get showered up and get the fuck home."

"That's the first good idea I've heard tonight."

An hour and a half later, both Brian and Connors were in the security officer's locker and shower room. Brian had showered off the grime from the fight with the druggie and for a while, he thought the smell from him would never come off. He sat on a bench between the rows of grey lockers, the gray concrete cool and smooth beneath his bare feet. In here the walls were white cinderblock and it smelled like soap; it smelled clean but not antiseptic. At the moment, there were only three other men in the locker room, all coming in to take over the early morning shifts. It was quiet, as they had heard what had happened in the emergency room. Usually, nothing was as bad as tonight had been. It was unusual and it had everyone on edge.

Wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, Brian ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into place. Before him, he had his gear stuffed into an open duffel bag and reaching in he grabbed his beat up iPhone, turned it on and checked for any messages. There was only one new thread. The gentle green bubble floated on the black of the locked home screen. It was from his mother. It was thirty minutes old. She was asking if he was okay. He sighed and replied yes, he was fine. Someone must have called her and told her. It was probably Jenny. She was a friend as well, though, truth be told, Brian figured she had a thing for him but she'd never admit it. She, Connors and Brian would often go and have drinks on the weekend.

MOM: Hey, Bri, are you okay? Got a call from Jen. Told me there was an incident.

With a few taps of the screen he sent his reply.

BRIAN: Fine, mom. Just tired. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Need sleep.

As he went to put the phone back in the bag, the phone dinged. A new green bubble appeared.

MOM: Love you, baby.

He smiled in spite of himself and the growing discomfort in his legs and upper body. He had probably strained something. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day. His mother had a close bond with him especially after Brian's father had died. She was also one of the coolest ladies he had ever met. She was a gamer, notorious for being a raider in World of Warcraft who kicked ass and took names later, liked a good mixed drink and was always good to come to for advice. She lived in Carsonsville and didn't get to see her much. She truly was the best 58 year-old he knew. Tapping out a final reply, he slid the phone into the bag, sighing.

BRIAN: You too .

Running a hand over his beard, Brian stretched his right arm. He snarled with the sharp pain that ran up his neck. Fuck. .

A shadow fell over him and he looked up as Connors came out of the showers and stood in front of his own locker. Elijah always looked a little different after a shower. His fur was always somewhat fluffy rather than the normal sleek well brushed look he sported most of the time. Apparently, after he showered, he had to shake him self-dry and then towel off the rest. He was moving a bit better by now but he was still stiff in his movements. He too was naked except for a white towel around his waist. Brian could see the tip of his tail peeking out from below the towel's bottom edge.

"Feeling any better?" he asked his friend, looking up as he pulled his own civilian clothes out, setting them aside.

"Yeah."

Something in Elijah's voice made Brian pause. It wasn't pain exactly but something was off. Distracted. He knew what it was immediately.

"Listen, that fuck face pig can go to hell with that mutt bullshit. Don't pay him any mind." He said, standing up so he could get dressed. Elijah had opened his own locker and was pulling out his clothes and his own bag to put his uniform in. He looked at Brian and for a moment, the poet and deep thinker that was Elijah Connors was gone and in its place was a face mired by a dark storm. It was unusual and it was so out of place that it took Brian by surprise.

"I hear that kind of shit all the time, Bri. I'm used to it. It's just...its life, man. That's all. People aren't going to change."

Brian did the only thing he could in moments of an uncomfortable truth. He cracked a joke. It was a habit many thought was annoying but endearing at the same time, especially when he broke out the puns. It was his way of dealing with the hateful truths, Brian thought to himself.

"So, I'm guessing your plans for this weekend include a trip to Aurora to see Ellie? If you're limping afterward I know it won't be because some drugged up crazie."

Connors cracked a smile, the first one in hours. "Heh. Not like this I'm not."

Without preamble he dropped the white towel away and stood naked before Brian. Connors had no qualms or reservations about changing in the locker rooms. The first time it happened he shut everyone down saying that life was too short and mean to worry about tiny bullshit things like modesty. Looking down, Brian saw that Connors entire lower groin area just above his hanging penis was swollen and looked painfully tender. Even though the fur was black in his pubic region, Brian could still see a deep bruise that was already turning greenish yellow, bright enough to show up through the thick fur. It was healing fast but that explained the limp he had seen when Connors came out of the shower. All the pain of injury healing compressed into small windows of time.

"Fuck that shit, sir, right up the tail pipe with a broom. That fucker nailed you....are you sure you are okay?" he said, looking back up to Connors face.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just going to be painful moving for a little while. By tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back to normal." Connors replied, pulling on his underwear, a pair of black boxer briefs. The waist band came to a stop just below his tail. "What are you plans this weekend?" he asked Brian as he pulled on his jeans and a shirt.

Brian similarly dropped his towel, his own brown pubic hair flashing briefly, before he pulled on a snug pair of white trunks. They hugged his bottom and kept everything properly in place. Quickly he pulled on the rest of his clothes, a white t-shirt and his favorite pair of worn jeans. Tightening his belt he looked back to Connors.

"Nothing really. I may see if I can get some writing done. I've had writer's block for a goddamn week now. Couldn't piss out a word if I had to." He replied realizing too late what he had said. Connors just raised an eyebrow and Brian shrugged an apology. Brian was working on a collection of state folklore in his spare time. One of his interests, much to the amusement of his co-workers, was his fascination with spooky things. Connors smiled sympathetically. "Understand that. Still jealous of how you can write prose. I suck at it."

"And I suck at fucking poetry. Among other things. " Brian shot back.

Connors face seemed to flush red but Brian couldn't tell but he did burst out with a snort of genuinely warm laughter.

"I wouldn't know. Get your damn shoes on and let's get our asses outta here. By the way did you ever find out what the hell the news van was doing here? Heard a guy in the stalls talking to Jefferies but not sure if it was true." Connors asked, shutting his locker and tying his shoes, zipping his duffel back as he stood.

"Nah. I didn't hear anything," Brian said, lacing his boots up and zipping his bag, shouldering it. He reached into his locker and pulled out a dark blue hoodie. "What did you hear?"

Connors shrugged as he moved to head towards the exit.

"Heard that the guy we cuffed and dragged out was a major drug dealer with the 86ers. Cops have been after him for months but he just happened to get fucked up and land here with us."

"No shit?" Brian asked, turning to walk with his friend. He noticed Connors ears were perked up again and he was glad his friend was feeling better.

"Yeah man. We busted a drug dealer. Bet you don't feel bad now about breaking that fucker's wrist." Connors ribbed him as they pushed open the doors and headed down hallway, taking two left turns before coming out next to the same emergency room exit they had hauled the drug dealer out of. Stepping through the sliding glass doors and out into the hot night air, Brian thought a moment and replied.

"Nah. Not one fucking bit."

Overhead, clouds illuminated by the city's glow seemed angry, swollen and dangerous. In the distance, thunder grumbled and Brian saw the flicker of lightning. The rapidly cooling breeze drafted the scent of ozone to them as the trees began to pick up.

"Looks like a storm is coming. You want a ride back to your apartment?" Connors asked, digging out his car keys.

Brian waved him off. "Nah, I don't mind walking. Its not that far and I need to clear my head. If I start to sit down my muscles are going to get stiff from that fight. Going to be sore as hell as it is and not all of us heal so fast."

Connors shook his head. "You sure?"

Brian insisted. "Yeah. Its only four blocks. I'll be fine. You go home and get some rest before your balls decide to revolt."

Still not convinced but letting it go, Connors nodded. "Alright, Spooky. I'll see you Friday then."

Brian waved him off playfully but thankful none the less. "You got it. You get a whole day off before coming back. Enjoy it. I'll be here."

With that, Connors turned and left. Brian watched to make sure he made it to his car. Always have a partner's back. A few moments later, in the darkness, an engine roared and headlights flared. Brian saw Connors blue Mustang come to life and a few seconds later, the car backed out and pulled away into the night, its red tail lights fading into the shadows. Sighing, Brian felt the first drops of rain fall. Cursing, he threw on his hoodie and brought the hood up just in time as the skies opened. Shouldering his bag he began to jog towards home and soon, he left the hospital parking lot behind.

The rain had began to cascade in earnest by the time he had gone two blocks and by three blocks, the shining lights of the medical campus had faded away along with the well lit streets and sidewalks of the busy downtown area and now he was into the true heart of Dawson City. Like all cities, he thought as he walked, the rain pelting him, Dawson City had a skin. That skin was the façade the city's mayor and aldermen wanted the public to see, towers of shining glass and steel, bustling with hopes, dreams and promises, an ideal place where all the deals were above board and everyone stood a chance, a welcoming warm place to call home. But under that, beneath the skin, Brian knew very well that the blood and gristle was much more rotten. Dawson City had a large population of Weres (that word always tripped him up writing it, he thought. He had to pronounce it to himself when he did: Were, like the ware in warehouse) and often times that population clashed with the strong right wing element in the city and the government of the city.

With the country in turmoil thanks to an extremely controversial presidential election and a Congress dead set it seemed upon tearing apart any progress that had been made in the last twenty-years, the issue of civil rights was rearing its ugly head again with a fury unseen since Martin Luther King Jr. had marched in Selma. Brian never thought he would live in a country that seemed to be tearing itself apart on issues to him that were a no brainer. When not working, his writing gave Brian an escape, a way to channel his frustration. Lost in thought, he jumped over a large puddle that had formed as the rain continued to pour. It was like someone upstairs had turned on a water facet and was trying to drown the city. The streets had rivers of muddy looking water cascading down them, white rapids that rushed into already over flowing gutters. As he walked, his thoughts turned to Elijah.

He had known Elijah Connors for about two years, having met him when Brian first moved to Dawson City. They were close in age and Brian had never met a Were in person before. Having gotten to know Elijah, Brian knew the man was a walking mask of contrasts. He enjoyed poetry, a good laugh, a cold beer and a solid game of hockey. Elijah was also deeply in love with his girlfriend, Ellie Mason, a shifting Were from Aurora, about thirty miles from Dawson City. She was a manager at a local restaurant there and Brian had met her once. She was stunningly beautiful, both in her human form and her canine form; her human form had warm milky skin, freckles and her red hair hung down to her ass like a wave made of living flame. In her canine form her smooth skin turned into amber fur and her hair became more vibrant and shone like the cast feathers of a phoenix. Her blue eyes had sparkled regardless of which form she was in when she laughed and she and Elijah made a great couple, and they truly seemed happy together.

Thinking about Elijah made him remember how much the turmoil surrounding whether or not Weres were entitled to the same rights as baseline humans came back and the damn cop that spouted off that slur at Elijah like it was nothing. Weres were just people, trying to live. Most of them held jobs, went to schools, supported their communities, hell, most of them didn't want to be in the spotlight. Of course, there were criminals but that didn't mean all Weres were responsible for the actions of a small group. If that were true, then all humans were responsible for those Nazi skinheads who had a march down on 8thAvenue last year, nearly causing a riot.

Elijah never talked much about it but Brian knew that Elijah and Ellie couldn't get married. They had no visitation rights to each other in the hospitals. Some politicians were even calling for banning Weres from jobs like food service and medicine due to "public concern."

Brian looked up as he passed a large plate glass window that made up the front of a brownstone building. A single wooden door with bars across it (a night time precaution) stood silent like a sentinel and the sign above the storefront, normally blazing gold was dimmed. It was a local bar called Ero's that Brian enjoyed frequenting on his days off. Not that Brian was a drunk but he enjoyed the atmosphere which was mostly a well behaved if somewhat rowdy crowd of Weres and Were-friendly humans. It made writing easier. It was his, Elijah's and Jenny's favorite hangout on weekends when they had time off together. The owner, Ero's, was a Were himself, a large hulking gray furred wolf. He had long black hair that he kept tied back in a neat pony tail and he always showed up in a black waist coat, white shirt with perfectly pressed sleeves and gold cufflinks, black dress trousers and a black apron. He personally tended the bar and saw to it that the peace was kept. He also had mesmerizing gold eyes that seemed to glimmer in the shadows. Ero's had taken a liking to Brian after Brian had helped Eros set up a social media presence, greatly expanding the customer numbers and had him pegged so well, that Eros knew what Brian would have to drink before Brian himself ever asked.

It was when Eros opened his mouth to speak that most people were caught off guard by him. He, like Dr. Jones, was British, and his voice was rich, polished and very cultured. With how he was built most people expected a bar tender stereotype. Instead, when you talked to him, you were regaled with always entertaining stories that seemed to go back years. Exactly how many years, Eros was always coy to not answer, giving him an air of mystery. As he walked past the darkened bar, Brian smiled. At least there were some good things in this shit hole passing for a city. Moving on, a little faster now to get out of the rain, Brian tried to stick to the side of the sidewalk whose storefront's had awnings. His upper lip curled a bit in disgust as he side stepped a puddle with a dead rat floating in it like a gruesome fishing lure. As he passed Rick's Electronics, he glanced through the bullet proof and barred glass at the televisions inside. The owner kept them going all the time and usually there were people standing around them catching the news or sports scores they didn't have time to catch otherwise. Tonight, he thought as a car rushed by, one of the few, its wipers going flick-flick-flick, spraying water into the air, there was no one and who else would be out on this god forsaken night. Well, morning now, Brian corrected himself. It was going on six in the morning.

He slowed as he approached the storefront, the glowing light of the screens casting a blue aura onto the sidewalk. The sound was on but muffled through the glass although still audible and on the screen a CNN news report was flaring to life. A brown haired smartly dressed late night news anchor sat behind a glass and steel desk as a video clip popped up behind her. "....And this was the scene just an hour ago in downtown Washington, DC, as members of Lupine Freedom opened fire with assault weapons and Molotov cocktails on a early morning meeting being held at the Library of Congress by expert members of the Regulation Panel, which is currently filing a motion for the passage of the controversial Lycanthropic Registration Bill..."

The camera switched from the news anchor at her desk with the fake New York skyline backdrop, to footage that would have seemed normal if it came from a war-zone.

Brian was shocked at the sheer amount of carnage that was filmed by the cameras as the terrorists mounted the large sweeping stairs leading up to the entrance of the marble building, as flames and fireballs exploded, blackening the columns that graced the front of the Library. Screams of panic pierced the night from the footage as gunfire exploded.

The report continued as the woman, unseen, narrated the violence: "... This bill, if ratified, would mean every lycanthrope that is a shifter or a full generation would have to register with DNA sampling, with the U.S. government and be entered into a database for potential offenders, regardless of criminal history. Already the tensions are high between supporters and opponents of the bill, which some say, is tantamount to the eugenics policies of the Nazi party in World War 2 as well as an invasion of privacy. Supporters argue that lycanthropes are a clear and present danger to anyone in their vicinity, stating that those who can shape shift post security problems, while some who oppose the bill claim that there is scientific evidence that lycanthropes are human, despite their unusual biology, and thus are to be granted clear and equal protection under the law the same as their fellow man.."

The shot switched back to the news anchor, her face deadly serious and her eyes dark as she went on. "The terrorists, some of which were full generation lycanthropes, were arrested. Others were shifters and were able to get closer to the Library unnoticed until the attack was launched. There was a casualty from the Library's occupants as James Billington, the Librarian of Congress, was killed by a single blow to the head by this lycanthrope, pictured here, as Mr. Billington stood definitely against the oncoming wave," the reporter stopped talking and the report cut to video of the killer.

The killer was a dark furred lycanthrope, standing nearly seven feet high; his body was well muscled and covered in a dark blue black fur that was sleek and short, like an otters. His face was that of a wolf, wild and savage, with a long muzzle lined with razor sharp fangs. There was no nobility in his face, rather, only endless rage. One of his ears had been torn off, and blood covered the side of his head; he did not seem to notice. His eyes blazed yellow red, hot coals in the abyss that was his face.

His only clothing was a ballistics vest and a pair of tattered tactical pants. Brian noticed his thickly muscled arms could have easily snapped steel. He had been contained with a special set of binders that completely enclosed his wrists and hands, sealing his fists in steel. The lycanthrope had no way to escape, but still fought savagely against the chains that bound him to the flat bed SWAT truck that he had been detained in. His blazing yellow eyes were wild with fury and his voice rang out across the parking lot, screaming at the top of his lungs.

" SUPERORITY! WE WILL WIPE YOUR SPECIES OUT FROM THIS PLANET! YOU WILL NOT SIT SAFE IN YOUR OFFICES AND DECIDE OUR FATES! YOU ARE NOT SAFE! NONE OF YOU!"

At this, the news report switched back to the brown haired reporter who gravely continued.

"...This lycanthrope has been identified as John Carrey, fittingly known in police records under his street name of Brutus. Carrey has a long criminal history of assault and battery, theft and several murders have been laid at his feet though evidence is sparing. He is wanted in several states and it is unknown at this time whether or not the prosecutors will seek the death penalty, but if convicted of aiding in tonight's brutal attack and of the crimes of which he is accused, the law may seek the Madison Treatment for Carrey rather than the death penalty...."

Brian just shook his head. He didn't know what else to do. The world was losing its mind. The Madison Treatment was a medical procedure developed by Madison Genetics. It was a special type of lobotomy designed for a Were's unique self healing biology that once administered, prevented them from healing the brain tissue and thus left them in a nearly catatonic state since, at least, according to stories he had heard, killing a Were was very hard, if not impossible. As far as Brian knew, the treatment was developed and reserved for those Were's who were as Republicans put it, a "clear and present danger to society by proving themselves such as a threat as to warrant extreme measures within the humane limits of the Constitution."

Madison Genetics, Brian thought as he turned a corner on the final block before his apartment complex (and grateful because his hoodie was starting to soak through), had been one of the companies to help crack the chromosomal coding during the Human Genome project in 1990 before it was finally decoded it in 2003. Up until 2005, no one could seem to understand shifter biology but in 2005, Harvey Madison, owner and founder of Madison Genetics, a powerful and supremely skilled geneticist began work on the Lycanthropic Genome Project, a sister to the original Human Genome project and by 2018, they had managed to understand quite a bit. Most of it was far too complex for Brian to follow but he had a reasonable understanding of science and -

A car rushed by him at break neck speed, driving far too fast for the rain slicked streets. It threw a tidal wave of water into the air and before Brian could get clear, the water hit him like a fire hose, completely soaking him. Cursing loudly, he stuck up his middle finger and shouted at the driver fruitless as the tail lights vanished into the night.

"FUCK YOU!"

Growling to himself, he was about to turn back to his journey home when he saw something that stopped him cold in his tracks. As the glare of the car's headlights dimmed and passed away, the streets were dark again, except for the pale light cast by the dim streetlamps that barely worked. In their yellow glow, he saw that four men had assembled in the opposite ally from the street he was on. Though he could not see them clear enough to make out exact details, he could see that they were clearly not the kind of person you wanted to be around in a dark city in the rain alone. They were dressed in baggy clothes, ragged shirts and torn jackets. They stared at him, unblinkingly, and Brian got the distinct impression he was being hunted.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Lightning flashed brightly and he made out the tattoos on one of the bigger men's exposed arms.

The twisting snake and pentagram of the 86ers stood out in bold black relief as did the scar that split the man's face from above his right eye to under his left cheek bone.

Brian did not meet their gaze but rather took off at a brisk walk, leaving the electronics store behind, trying not to show his unease as the four men left the ally and fell into step behind him. Tightening his grip on his pack, Brian moved quickly, feeling the rain sting him, burying itself into his hair through his hoodie, down to his shirt, like a million wet damp cold nettles. Behind him, he heard the footsteps of the heavier brawler he had spotted with the tattoo increase with his own.

One of them called out, his voice riding the thunder, "Hey, buddy, we need to talk to you!"

This was not good.

Another car passed by him, slinging mud and dirty water into the air, the headlights blindingly bright. Brian took the opportunity to duck into an alley hopefully losing his pursuers long enough in the glare so that he could find a different way home.

He was no coward, but four against one was not exactly fair odds, especially with his muscles already tired from both the walk and the fight earlier with the druggie. The alley was littered with trash, refuse and the waste of lives day in and day out, complimented with overturned trashcans. A rotting metal rusted dumpster filled to capacity sat at one end and a fire escape crawled up the side the empty building on the right but it was too far out of reach. A rat squeaked and bolted across the asphalt, vanishing into a wall. The only streetlight in this alley was blown and it was like entering a velvet darkness that was wet with the Earth's grimy tears.

His heart sank quickly as he realized his mistake and his mistake was going to cost him dearly he understood immediately.

The ally was a dead end.

A fifteen-foot high wooden fence blockaded the far end.

Not good, Brian thought, seeing no way out of the alley. Brick walls surrounded him on either side and again he cast a longing look at the fire escape ladder. It was too high for him even if he jumped. There were no windows on the sides of the buildings facing the alleyway and all the doors bore heavy locks.

"Fuck..." he cursed, turning around to see that the four men had blocked off the entrance to the alley.

Now that they were closer, he could see them better. The shortest was a man probably in his thirties with grizzled hair and a filthy jacket with no shirt on beneath it. His eyes were dark and beady, shifty, like a rodent. The other two, with their completely shaved heads, were clearly tee-teetotalers on bar night judging from the size of their beer guts and biker's jackets. Each of them wore sharpened metal spikes on their closed fists; iron knuckles.

The last man, the man with the tattoo, was the tall one; he was probably the worst out of the four as the other three had the air of lackeys, of toadies.

This man was death itself. He had the atmosphere about him of a coiled snake, ready to strike. His eyes were a bright, clear ice blue and they possessed a horrid sick sheen to them. He was dressed as the others, in baggy clothing, with leather jackets. Nothing to restrict his movement but plenty of space to conceal many illicit sins. His boots were riding boots, and they announced his slow deliberate arrival with controlled and precise clicks as their metal sole tips clinked on the asphalt. His bald head shone in the lightning flashes, slick with rain. Even his head was covered in tattoos, Brian noted. He didn't seem to care about the storm.

"We just wanted to talk to you." he said, his voice as oily and slick as the rest of him. Brian's skin crawled.

"I don't carry cash and all you're gonna get otherwise is a beat up phone and dirty clothes." Brian snarled them, trying to keep his unease at bay. Yelling at them was stupid, he knew but this situation was not going well at all. He dropped his grip on his bag, letting it hang from his shoulders while his arms fell to his sides, loose and ready to move. They wouldn't take him without a fight at least.

"I don't care what you do or don't have. I don't want your fucking your fucking phone, pig." He spat the last word with disgust. "You see, someone told me a few hours ago, that you work at the hospital as a security guard and that during the course of your employment, you managed to not only injure one of my best dealers but you also managed to get him arrested. Congratulations." He stepped forward, the rain running off him in sheets as the muscles in his arms flexed. "Meet my associates. They'd like to discuss this business matter with you as well. " The tall man indicated the shorter man to his right who grinned dementedly, and he pointed with a sweep of his long bony fingered hands to the bulkier two men to his left, who both flexed their own fingers threateningly, their spike-knuckles glinting in the occasional lightning flash.

Thunder roared angrily.

"Pleasure. Really." Brian said,, backing up slowly, trying to find a way out of this before he ended up on the news tomorrow himself. He wondered how the hell the 86ers had found out about the dealer. That had been only a few hours ago. The local news hadn't ran yet. The only way it possibly could have spread to the gang this fast is if the....

White hot anger shot through him followed by a cold realization. It was the cop, the asshole who had ragged on Connors. The cop was on the payroll of the 86ers. That was the only answer. He was the one who had taken both Elijah and Brian's information. All of it. There were rumors of police working with alt-right gangs and skinheads for drug money. There was an investigation a year ago into potential ties to the drug gangs but of course, nothing had turned up. The police protected their own.

Bastard.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine. I'd like to cut to the chase if you don't mind. I'm a busy man. I have lots to do, so... " the tall man with the tattoo said, his voice dripping with venom, reaching into his right breast pocket of his jacket. Brian couldn't see the object clearly at first but a second later, the sound told him all he needed to know.

_ SNICKER-SNACK._

A gleam in the darkness, the sheen of sharpened steel and an eight inch switch blade appeared in the man's hand. He looked at knife like a lover and then to Brian.

The man began advancing forward a few feet, switching the knife to his right hand into a reverse grip, the blade turning from a vertical shaft of death into a horizontal razor. The others with him dropped into predatory stances, blocking any chance of escape through the alleyway. If they had guns, they weren't intending to make this fast.

Brian did the only thing he could think to do and he bolted for the fence. Perhaps if he used the dumpster as a vaulting point, he could leap over it, never mind that the fall to the other side of the fence would most likely do some serious damage, but it was a risk that he was willing to take rather than be butchered by these mugger wannabes.

"KILL HIM!" The tattooed man yelled, and like attack dogs, the other three leaped forward, moving faster than their bulk and stature would belie.

Brian reached the dumpster, placed his foot in the wide open slot where the trash truck's fork would normally slide into and boosted himself up and reached wildly for the fence top. His left hand fingers grasped the wood, feeling the wetness of the ledge, while his right hand buried itself in the slop and muck that was the garbage that lined the dumpster's filthy rim.

For a moment, he gripped it and threw his weight into hauling himself up. He was no slouch at pull-ups.

A violent fork of lightning split the sky, throwing crazy shadows all over the alley and the thunderclap that screamed afterward vibrated Brian's bones.

He felt the sudden harsh grip on the back of his jacket, felt the stinging stabbing of iron knuckles and a second later, he fell through space, before slamming into the ground, the wet asphalt rushing up to kiss him in the face. His pack went skittering into the dark corner of the ally. The wind was driven from him from the force of the impact and he felt warm blood cascade down his stomach and chest where his shirt had come up, the asphalt scraping his skin raw. The city always took its pound of flesh and hair.

"Hold him!" Brian heard the leader snarl.

Two stocky shorter men wasted no time in grabbing Brian by the hair of his head, gut punching him, driving the spikes home, and with a single fluid motion slung him into the front of the dumpster hard enough to shake it with a resounding thud of flesh hitting metal. The sharp agonizing nerve burning explosion of pain in his lower back as the edge of the dumpster caught his spine made Brian double over.

Gasping for air, Brian struggled as much as he could, his upper arms held fast in the crushing grip of the two men on opposite sides of him. Brian's feet were still free and he made liberal use of them, trying to twist up either man's feet, but they were having none of it, easily maneuvering away from his weak attempts. The third heavier man was suddenly there, in front of Brian and solidly drove a booted foot violently into Brian's groin, instantly subduing him.

Instant nausea exploded and he desperately fought the urge to throw up as a lead weight dropped into his gut, and for a moment he saw stars, and sagged against his captors, unable to scream, unable to cry out in the sheer shocking agony of the pain he now felt in his balls and stomach. For a moment, he thought about Conners and knew that Elijah was likely getting a similar visit. It enraged him.

He let his head hang limp, matted with water and dirt was the rain continued to pour, seemingly unable to fight anymore.

The tattooed man laughed, as if he found the situation amusing. He walked slowly, like a big cat over to his prey, the blade in his right hand glinting in the thunder claps that had begun with sparks of lightning a few moments ago; the storm was intensifying rapidly. He stopped in front of Brian, and upon reaching his victim, Brian's assailant simply stood. The tattooed man motioned for the third big man to get out of his way and keep an eye out, which the other man did wisely without a word.

The tattooed man came closer to Brian and Brian chose that moment to slam his head forward, smashing his hard skull into his attacker's face as hard as he could. It earned him a second set of gut punches but the tattooed man went reeling back, if only for a moment. When he came back, he took a few moments to take a few deep breaths, his tattoos glistening in the night rain.

The tattooed man wiped his mouth and the back of his right hand with the knife came away bloody. He grinned alarmingly. Taking the knife to his own forearm, he slashed roughly downward drawing a vicious red line that oozed blood instantly.

"You'll have to do better than that, pig. I like pain." He said, his split lower lip cracking further as the flesh peeled away from the open wound on his lip like rubber glove being pulled away.

Stepping forward again, this time face to face with Brian the man grabbed the front of Brian's short hair and slammed his head backward two times in quick succession. Brian felt pain explode in his head as his vision blurred not even hearing the echo of his skull on metal and the last of the fight was knocked out of him fairly quickly. He knew fights; he knew that fights in real life weren't like the movies where characters danced around like martial artists on stage. In real life, fights were brutal, short and quick. The filthy street swam in his vision as the tattooed man stuck out his left hand after letting Brian's head drop and used his index finger to lift Brian's head up, to make Brian face him. He lowered himself to face Brian, eye to eye. His cold blue orbs stared into Brian's dazed eyes. The man's voice was like poisoned silk, low and conspiratorial, as if he was giving Brian the winning lotto numbers.

"You know, you could have made this much easier on yourself. You do not know the countless people who I have gutted for fighting back or trying to run. I would have made it easy. A blade through your ear into your brain, quick and painless. But now? I think I'm going to take my time, pig."

Brian tried to scowl and finally, worked up the best he could do.

He spit in the man's face.

Tattoos, as Brian came to know him in the last few minutes, did not cry out in shock, but launched a powerful sideways blow with his left hand that sent Brian's head clanging off the back of the dumpster again. Brian's vision went crossways and threatened to go completely black. Brian tasted the wet coppery taste of blood gush in his mouth. He spat it out onto the ground, glaring at Tattoos.

"You'll pay for that one, pig" Tattoos snarled, raising his right hand with the blade in it, the gleaming steel razor edge flaring in the lighting that flashed.

As he cocked his arm for the blow that would surely decapitate Brian, lightning flashed again and Brian caught a glance at the men who were holding him, he saw their faces drain of any color, turning a sick shade of white. Tattoos noticed at the same time as Brian did. "What the hell is wrong you?" Tattoos barked at them before he saw the true fear in the eyes of his men and suddenly he realized they were looking behind him...and up...

Keeping the knife at Brian's throat, he turned and looked up, following the looks of stunned looks of terror on his men's faces.

"Jesus Christ..." Tattoos felt the words fall from his mouth as his eyes took in what he was seeing, his face going ashen and eyes dilating in shock.

There, perched upon the roof's edge of the building that made up the right wall of the alley was a figure, a two-legged figure. It was well over six feet high, powerfully muscled and covered in fur, Skinner realized.

Covered in gray otter sleek fur, fur that was soaked in rain.

Its form was human, two legs and two arms with human-like hands, five fingered with an opposable thumb, just like a humans; the feet were flat like a humans, with the toes and fingers ending in blunt black claws. It was dressed in torn jeans that ended at the knee, with rags of jean material reaching its furry ankles.

It had a long tail that was bushy. It curled like a snake, lashing in the storm. Its upper body was shirtless, and like the rest of him, was covered in dark gray fur.

.... The head he saw was not human at all...but rather....

...A wolf.

Its ears were long and pointed, ragged and its muzzle, once graceful, was long and covered in four scars, slashed down sideways, as if it had been clawed. The nose was black like a dogs and the mouth was lined with fangs that made a steak knife look tame. The eyes were fixed on Tattoos and Tattoos felt his blood threaten to turn to slush. They were glowing with an odd light of their own, an amber yellow glow against the black empty holes that seemed to be its eye sockets. Tattoos felt his heart begin to pound in the rising panic that matched the bile rising in his throat. This was not supposed to happen. This wasn't part of the plan.

With the next lightning flash, Brian was able to focus his eyes enough to look up and see what held his captors attention and he saw what they did, he felt a shiver run down his back.

A Full Generation Lycanthrope stood looking down upon the melee beneath him, a vengeful demon in the darkness.

Brian felt his brain disconnect as he tried to process what he was seeing.

With a roar like a lion's the lycanthrope leaped down, dropping down three stories to the pavement below, landing in a crouch. From his new position, Brian saw the yellow eyes flick up to Tattoos and then the lycanthrope spoke, his voice was raspy, dark and quiet; it had a gruff quality to it, as if from disuse, and it was deep. Not James Earl Jones deep, no, but more like Kevin Bacon.

"Don't you have anything better to be doing tonight, like hitting up the roach motels on Fifth? Leave him alone...Now."

It was not a request.

Tattoos, now caught between the Lycanthrope and his own prey, made a snap decision. Whatever this creature wanted, it sure as hell wasn't going to kill him and it sure was hell wasn't going to stop him. Or scare him.

A memory tugged at his subconscious as he stared at the man-creature, something familiar. Then the memory he was looking for flashed through Tattoo's mind. His gang had told him stories of a lone Were that liked to fight. That he hung out in the worst parts of the city, leaving broken criminal bodies and right wing nut jobs in his wake, like some goddamned super hero. The rumor said the Were was crazy, like the harder the fight, the more he enjoyed it.

"Mind your business, fur-ball. I've heard of you on the streets, trying to save people, be some kinda hero. This has nothing to do with your flea-ridden kind. This is 86ers business but if you want in, I'll be happy to skin you too."

The Were simply blinked, the yellow eyes dimming momentarily as he did it, silently focusing on Tattoos. Tattoos didn't know it but the Were had been following him for days now. The scumbag had robbed countless, left more than a few bodies in the dark alleys of the city. Oh yes. The Were was familiar with the 86ers. Fucking drug dealing trash. The gang also had Neo-Nazi and skinhead connections.

" Apparently you guys don't speak English. I said, leave the man alone." The Were said again, rising slowly from his crouch.

Seeing that they were not going to be torn limb from limb immediately, the two men who were holding him let go of Brian and backed into positions next to the dumpster, sliding their hands into their jackets. The third man stepped up next to his leader and Brian tried to move but Tattoos stood his ground and moved the blade, nearly sending it through his throat. The steel tried to bite into Brian's flesh.

"This one is mine," Tattoos said to his men, turning his back on the Were, forcing Brian's head up with the blade of his knife, exposing his neck.

"Kill Fido." Tattoos said dismissively.

"Kill a lousy Were? With pleasure." The thickest thug of the four snarled, apparently having grown his bravado back. He reached around to his belt and drew his own knife; The one on Brian's left did the same and the third man pulled a small pistol from inside his jacket, sliding a round into the chamber as he racked the slide back, the ratcheting sound loud in the alleyway with all the cold heartlessness that death dealing steel seemed to possess.

The Were shifted on his ankles, his broad back muscles tensing. He knew how this was going to go down before his conscious mind made sense of it because it was already happening and he braced himself.

The gun shot was painfully loud, and even the thunder above did not swallow it entirely. The muzzle flash was like a second sun. The round slammed into the Were's right shoulder even as he tried to dodge it, throwing blood and tissue out, causing the Were to stumble backward with the inertia of the bullet; the Were made only a raspy grunt of pain. The searing hot lead cooked the meat it had buried itself in. There was no time for pain, no time to acknowledge it, only motion, action and reaction. Adrenaline surged though his body.

With an animalistic roar of his own, the stocky third man charged, bringing his blade to bear as he dove forward, seizing his chance to gut the wounded Were.

With a move so fluid it seemed impossible, the Were rolled to the right, coming up on his knees, directly in the path of the razor knife of the other knife wielder. In a split second the blade would slice into the Were's jugular and he would bleed out in the alley before he could heal up.

That split second never came.

Even as he was rolling, the Were's powerful arm and left hand shot out, fingers open; the sound of flesh striking flesh, assaulted his sensitive ears, the thick wet sound was swallowed in the lightning burst from the storm above. The Were had flat palmed the man in the solar plexus, driving him backward.

The man went back, started to fall on his ass to crash to the pavement behind him but the Were's right hand came up and caught the falling man's right flailing wrist, stopped him and simply twisted, breaking it with the sickening meaty moist sound of cracking bone into an open compound fracture, blood and bone spitting into the night in a red spray, pulling the man to back towards himself with enough force to nearly rip the gang member's arm out of his socket.

The injured man screamed, a sharp shrill sound and the blade fell to the asphalt clattering out of sight and that was the last thing the man ever saw as the Were brought his knee up into his face, cracking his skull and snuffing out his life like a lit match in the wind, his limp body dropping like a sack of potatoes to the wet grimy ground. Glancing quickly, the Were looked for the other man with the knife and didn't see him but he did see the glint of a gun barrel.

The gunman lined up a new shot and fired; the gun sputtered pitifully; it had water logged in the rain.

"Goddamn it!" he cursed, and dove down next to the dumpster to un-jam his weapon, ducking like a scared dog. The Were dropped to all fours and moved towards him his tail lashing in the rain.

Sliding in like a whip snake, the other knife wielder came out of the shadows and tried to slice the Were's Achilles tendon. The Were was too fast, jumping out of the way, bounding up into the air and backward, using his own momentum and shoving off of the alley wall to twist as he flew over the man who would have sliced into him, rolling over his attacker's bent back. The Were's right hand shot out, grabbing the stocky man by the back of his vest, rolling back around to the left and up to his feet, hurling the hood face first into the brick wall with an ear splitting thud, sending spider-web cracks through the brick face, shaking dust loose from the mortar.

The knife wielder sank to the ground and moved no more. The gunman still cowered next to the dumpster, too scared to make a move. The Were sniffed once. The cowering man had pissed in his pants.

With a roar of anger, Tattoos hauled Brian away from the dumpster and held him, struggling, the blade against his throat. "You want to save this meat-sack, eh, fleabag? Too bad. I always get my man."

Before the Were could cover the distance to him, Tattoos turned Brian around to face him.

"NO!" the Were barked and dove towards Tattoos.

Tattoos drove the blade of his knife deep into Brian's abdomen, twisting it.

Brian felt a scream rip from his throat, a scream that never came and the only evidence of its existence was a shocked gasp as the knife pierced him and a terrible fire begin to spread through him, as much as the red blood that gushed from the wound, spilling onto the pavement. His whole body went rigid as Tattoos dragged the knife up through his bowels and finally, yanked the blade clear and tossed Brian away as if he were yesterday's trash.

The world tilted wildly and gravity snared Brian, dragging him crashing to the ground, next to his crumpled duffle bag. He felt the pain but his stunned brain could not process it.

Brian felt his awareness slow down as the pain overwhelmed him, his hands went to the gash in his stomach, the shirt ripped where the knife went through, blood soaking his hands, making them slippery and wet even as he tried to staunch the flow of his life force. He lay where he fell, too weak to move, trying to stay awake even as the pain and the strange heavy feeling in his eyes wanted him to go to sleep. The pain was fading and he felt tired. Too tired to want to get up. Sleep. He needed sleep.

He heard muffled scuffling and saw twisted distorted shapes as his consciousness fled his body.

Was this dying?

Yes...it must be...

The Were crossed the distance between himself and Tattoos in two seconds, two seconds too slowly, swinging a wild right hook that sent Tattoos careening into the dumpster before the man could even turn around to face him with an almighty clash. Brian didn't see what happened next but a dark object fell to the ground next to him, shaking the ground but he could barely feel it. He forced his eyes open as his vision failed him to see the lifeless body of Tattoos had landed next to him, his neck twisted at an odd angle, with the gangsters cold eyes starting wide open into his own.

The thug with the jammed gun had done the smart thing; he had taken the opportunity to run and run he did, leaving the alleyway in sheer terror. The Were let him go.

The Were stepped over Tattoos corpse and moved over to Brian, whose form was now still on the ground, the pavement stained in blood. The Were stood over him, his muzzled canine face clouded by a storm of emotion, his own shoulder and arm bleeding. He didn't care about the men he had just taken out but the guy laying on the ground before him bleeding out....

The Were's own mind taunted him, a silent argument behind the glowing yellow eyes of the fur lined face that Brian couldn't comprehend or hear.

I couldn't save him...there was no way he could get the man to an ambulance or hospital in time.....just like he had been unable to save my family that night years ago He was just as pathetic as the men who'd he'd put out of their misery tonight, the Were's brain tormented him. Half angry, half frustrated, he growled to himself.

Turning, the Were hung his head and went to leave the alley, knowing that the police had probably already been called and he was half way over the dumpster and the fence when he saw movement.

His sharp eyes caught it and he saw the unbelievable.

The guy that the tattooed fuck had stabbed and gutted was alive.

Dropping back to the ground, the pavement wet on his bare feet, soaking through the fur, the Were moved quickly to Brian, and knelt beside the man.

Brian looked up at the Were and for a moment, they simply locked eyes. Then Brian did something that the Were did not expect. With the last of his strength, the human raised his blood stained hand up and put it on the Were's shoulder, his injured shoulder. The Were winced but did not protest.

"Thank you...for trying..." Brian said, his voice fading, the light going out of his eyes as his life fled his body, his hand falling lifelessly, leaving a bloody hand print streak down the Were's chest, the thick dark grey and silver fur turning maroon with the liquid.

The Were did not respond but felt his heart begin to race. Emotions exploded within him. Was this what his life was going to be? Watching everyone he tried to help die and be ripped away from this world? Was that the curse of being what he was? To be nothing...to never get rid of the ghosts...he was no one, nothing...what could he do....he had failed again...In his mind, his mother's screams echoed.

Then it hit him. He knew how to save the man's life.

" No...I can't...." he said out loud, his voice barely a whisper and even as Brian's head rolled to the side, the Were made his decision. He would not lose another life. Not this time. Not tonight.

Going against every belief he had, hoping simultaneously that what he thought he knew about the consequences of his next act were true and not true at the same time, he took Brian up from the ground and bared his fangs, and drove them into Brian's left shoulder, holding them there.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the Were knew he had failed again.

Brian's eyes shot open and death retreated, his face transformed with a sharp gasp of agony into a mask of frozen shock.

Brian, now fully conscious again, his mind a whirling streak of red and black pain, felt a fire pulse through his veins, as if his very blood were boiling and he gasped in shock, his back arching like he was hit with an electric current.

As the Were held Brian in the death bite, the bloody gash on Brian's stomach seemed to close a bit, the blood flow slowing to a trickle. Finally, the gash sealed itself entirely with not even a scar to show it was there, just a nasty purplish bruise.

Finally, weak from the blood loss and pain from the newest injury, Brian passed out from shock and went limp in the Were's grasp.

The Were immediately withdrew, and spit out the blood from his mouth, the iron copper taste flooding his senses. For a moment, the Were thought he had killed the man. He quickly wiped his mouth and checked Brian's pulse and then realized with shock that the man not only had a pulse but that it was growing stronger.

Much stronger.

Unsure of what this meant, especially if the stories were true, the Were did the only thing he could and took the man's ruined hoodie off, ripping what was left of Brian's shirt from his body and tied it around his abdomen, creating a tight make shift tourniquet just in case the wound reopened. Doing his best and making sure he wasn't doing any more damage, the Were lifted Brian's limp form into a fireman's carry, grabbing the man's crumpled duffle bag while he was at it, slinging it over his own neck.

Moving quickly as he could already hear the police sirens wailing, carrying Brian's now unconscious form he vaulted onto the dumpster and over the fence in a single fluid motion. His feet hit the ground hard and he began to run, the whispering voices deep inside, the guilt that gnawed at him every night unbearably that no healing factor could ever shut up, for once falling oddly silent, as he began praying that he'd done the right thing to whatever god that would listen to him. Behind him, floodlights and blue-red flashers light up the night, even as the Were vanished into the darkness.

Chapter 2 :

In his dreams he was chased. It was darkness, a sharp wicked thing coming to cut him. If it caught him, it would kill him over and over. He would never die but he would have a thousand deaths, each one worse than before. He heard it growling, snarling, a wild beast unchained from civility, given over to primal instinct. He saw its lupine head come around a corner, jet black, featureless, except for twin gleaming yellow eyes, eyes that stared at him. It seemed to recognize him and turned the corner, revealing a massive body, all black, that was a living three-dimensional shadow. Light would never illuminate its features, no ray would ever pierce its heart as it took a step towards him, each fall of its huge feet exploding like thunder, shaking his dreamscape.

_ He couldn't run, his legs weren't obeying him; the creature closed the distance across the space and its arrival was heralded only by its hot fetid breath as suddenly it appeared at his face, nose to nose with Death itself and a sudden silence that hurt him to his bones. He wanted to scream, yell, gasp, cry, anything, any sound, the silence as he was frozen in place staring deep into its hellish eyes was unbearable. He realized then that he could hear a sound: A steady deep rhythmic thumping, heavy and strong like a cosmic drum. It was the heart of the beast and it was hungry, ready to devour, to rip and kill._

_ A light began to bloom on the horizon. It was brilliant gold that flared into white as a new sun exploded, throwing the creatures shadow and his into long giant thin streaks of black. Throwing up his hands, he shielded his eyes against the super nova and for a moment, the beast seemed to wither beneath the light._

_ There was nothing as the light winked out taking the creature with it._

_ He was alone._

_ The silence was now only pierced by the sound of his own ragged breathing. A burning pain screamed to life in his chest and stomach. Looking down he lifted his shirt and there, instead of the normal Caucasian flesh and thick coat of brown chest and belly hair, he saw a red line draw itself from his navel to his nipple on his right side. The line began to weep blood and black liquid. He felt the red line split with fire and he grabbed his stomach to keep his insides in, screaming a silent plea to wake up but there was no mercy even as the heart beat of the beast came again, this time from behind him directly in his ears._

_ Looking up, his hands covered in blood, his eyes filled with tears of agony, he looked directly into the face of the monster as its jaws snapped shut on his head like a steel vice._

With a jolt, Brian awoke.

The sun blinded him and he blinked owlishly to clear his vision and focus. Once he could see properly, he fully opened his eyes and confusion washed over him, tsunamis of memories flooded his brain as he tried to make sense of where he was, what time it was and what had happened. He did a trick his therapist had taught him as a teenager during his anger management classes that always seemed to center him.

In his mind, a single mantra played.

My name is Brian Duncan MacGregor. I am 28 years old. I am...I am...

Where was he?

The mantra helped calm him down and he took stock of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a bed. Looking down at it, Brian noticed it had black sheets, a thin white blanket and a grey comforter on the top. There were pillows with black pillowcases at the top and the head and foot board were simple dark chestnut wood. Nothing fancy. The mattress was solid however, he noted, pushing on it. It wasn't cheap and it was thick with a pillow topper. He noticed as he looked, that the bed frame itself was made of steel and there were no slats most likely. He had seen such beds before. On either side of the headboard were twin nightstands. On the one nearest to him sat a brass lamp that looked like it was a cheapo, two empty beer bottles, a thick black wallet and a digital clock. Sighing, he looked at the clock.

Its giant red numbers told him it was 6:00 PM in the afternoon and that it was Thursday. He looked down at himself. He was in his underwear and shirtless. He looked down at his chest and belly, suddenly panicking as he flashed of that morning sunk in. He remembered his head wanting to explode as it was slammed into the dumpster, he remembered his vision had faded. He remembered the knife sliding into his warm flesh. Brian's hands shot to his abdomen. There was nothing there but the usually carpet of brownish-black hair that covered his chest, stomach and turned into a thin trail that led to under his waistband. There was no scar, no blood. Not a single sign he had even been scratched. The area was a little tender, like a muscle that had been overworked and he was stiff but otherwise, it was if the attack had never occurred.

In fact, it was his left shoulder that was bothering him the worse. Frowning Brian flexed his left arm. The bicep curled and bunched up normally and but when he went to lift the arm above his head, a cramp shot down it and into his chest. Nope. Not going to do that for a while. What happened there? Kicking away the strange blankets, he moved to get out of the bed. He supposed he should be afraid of waking in a strange bed but whoever had taken him he taken care of him and let him have a bed so clearly whomever it was had no ill intent. Plus, they left their wallet on the night stand. For a moment, Brian was tempted to open it and go through it to find a driver's license but something told him he would better off not prying just yet. It was definitely a man's wallet; it was messy and fully of receipts and what looked like the normal flotsam a man's wallet accrues over time.

He rubbed his eyes, careful not to move his shoulder the wrong way as he sat up and put his feet over the edge of the bed because that hurt like hell, and took in his surroundings, squinting in the light streaming through huge window on the other end of the room. Even though he moved gently, his shoulder still sang a fresh song of pain; he grunted with it and forced himself through it.

The first thing Brian noticed besides the window was that the room he was in was gigantic, far larger than any bedroom he had ever seen. Looking up, he saw the room had high ceilings too, and that the top of the room as was a good fifteen feet up. The walls of the room were made of solid but old red brick that had lost much of its vibrancy leaving behind a dull maroon color with faded cement between them. Ahead of him was a small kitchen with white wooden cabinets and black granite countertops. An island bar served as the counter and separation from the sleeping area. Three shabby looking bar stools sat in a rough line. Beer bottles and dishes sat on the bar. On the silver chrome stove a pot stood unloved and neglected. A metal fridge with double doors hummed reliably.

So it was a studio apartment, Brian noted, not that much different from his own. Large blinds bordered by faded brown curtains lined the two massive windows that he originally thought was just one. The blinds were down but open and the curtains haphazardly pulled to the side. A white wall and a door created a second area that probably led to a bathroom. The door was ajar and warm afternoon sunlight streamed from the crack. The apartment itself was warm, but there was an air of tension, as if the building itself was waiting to spring. Maybe it was just where he was awake and sitting on a strangers bed half naked when he should be dead but something was off. It didn't really set off his alarm bells. He had a good nose for threats but it was just...different.

Looking down, he saw the floors were hard wood, well polished and covered in two giant blue rugs. Across from the bed by about ten feet was a living area. It was cluttered with three end tables, two of which had similar Dollar Store lamps like the one beside the bed. A banged up wooden coffee table sat in between a reasonably new metal and glass television stand and on the stand itself sat a 52 inch flat screen that was currently dark. Allowing his eyes to move, Brian backtracked towards the only area a couch could be, directly in front of the television on the opposite side of the coffee table (again covered in several beer bottles). The sofa itself was dark blue, made of leather or imitation leather, Brian couldn't tell. Its arms had rough edged holes in them and the stuffing poked up through them. On a recliner on the right side of the couch, a pair oil stained jeans was discarded, as well as a dark blue-black muscle shirt.

It was what lay on the couch that caused Brian, for the first time, to tense up. He figured the occupant of the apartment had been the same one to put him in the bed but he when he saw the occupant on the couch it made him start slightly.

The person on the couch was a Were. Brian stood up, wobbled on his feet and quickly gained his balance. Moving silently as he could, he looked for his clothes. He saw his jeans laying on the floor, discarded. Quickly, he bent over and grabbed him, dismayed to see the now dark rust colored stains down the right side. He knew what that stain was having seen it many times in the emergency room. Blood. His blood. Shaking his head, he slipped his legs into his pants and pulled them up hastily, grunting as his balls got caught on them. Grunting, he quickly shoved his junk into them, glad he had been left in his white trunks. Buttoning his pants, he zipped them. Or tried to, rather. The zipper stuck. Sighing, he looked down and saw the teeth were caught up in a sticky reddish black blob of congealed blood. Brushing it away, he finished zipped up and quickly wiped his hands on his thigh. There was no sign of his hoodie and looking around quickly he spotted his dufflebag in front of the TV, just on the other side of the coffee table.

Cursing silently, he tip toed across the room and when was directly across from the couch he got a much better look at the werewolf on the couch and his heart jumped into his throat as violent images shot through his brain.

_ It was raining. It was cold, he tasted blood in his mouth. His head pounded as his vision faded in and out. He had no strength left. Bodies lay in the filthy street around him. Someone held him from behind. There was something cold and hard, sharp, pressed into his neck. There was shouting. Words that made no sense._

"...I always get my man."

PAIN!

SEARING PAIN! His guts split open and he felt the blade cut him.

"NO!" a second gruffer voice called as a shadow with gleaming yellow eyes charged at him even as gravity pulled him into finality.

The words and images echoed disturbingly in Brian's memories, jumbled and chaotic as his right hand went unconsciously to his side. This was the Were that tried to stop...stop what....

The gang attack. The 86ers. The Were had killed at least three of them...Why aren't I dead? How did he save me...I shouldn't be here...Brian thought. Brian had an image of a roaring beast with glowing yellow eyes and flashing fangs in the lightning but now, before him, as afternoon sun streamed into the windows between the blinds with dust motes swirling in the space between them, the Were didn't look at all threatening.

The Were was a wolf, that was much was obvious. His head and face were graced with a long noble muzzle and his ears were wide and pointed. In places, his ears were ragged, like a stray dogs. His nose was black, moist and was moving gently as he slept with deep peaceful breaths. His thick sloping neck ran to his body that was covered in gray fur, the same thick kind of fur that most Weres had. It was sleek and surprisingly clean. The Were was laying on his back, powerfully muscled forearms under his head, supporting it, like a set of pillows. His chest was wide and well defined as was his stomach. The fur that covered his chest and belly was a light gray, almost a silver. A sheet and a blanket covered him from the waist down and his tail and feet stuck out awkwardly from the bottom of the blanket.

Brian noticed a fresh wound on his right shoulder that was nearly healed but looked vicious. Something winked on the coffee table and Brian looked to find a glass ashtray. It was filled not with cigarette butts but rather the squashed metal of spent bullets. The wound suddenly made sense; he had been shot last night defending Brian and had pulled the bullets out himself to prevent his body from healing over it. Bloody bandaged and guaze sat on the coffee table colored with dark maroon stains.

Jesus.

Another horrible realization struck Brian in the face like a cold splash of water. The gang. Elijah!

Moving as quietly as he could, Brian fully intended to grab his bag, throw on his uniform shirt and get the hell out of the apartment. This Were had killed three people as easily as most people drove a car, almost without a thought, had been shot and pulled the bullet out by himself. The fuck I'm staying here. I don't even know HOW I'm here but I don't give one flying fuck--

KATHUNK!

As he picked up his duffle bag, the edge of it caught the side of the coffee table, jarring it loudly, setting the glass ashtray to skittering across the wooden surface, jarring the beer bottles with a quiet klink of glass on glass that was the loudest sound Brian had ever heard. Kicking himself mentally, Brian felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he felt that unmistakable icy finger go down his spine that signaled you were being watched. He felt his balls jump into his throat as a voice came from behind him. It was gruff, sleepy and grouchy.

"What the hell....keep it down for fucks sake....Jesus Christ..."

Brian whirled where he stood, his bag forgotten as he came face to face with the Were who was now very much awake, propped up on his elbow, his face sleep swollen, one eye cracked at Brian, the other squinting in the bright light, his nose twitching wildly. The fur on the top of his head was unruly, and one ear swiveled towards Brian like a radar dish.

"Um...I...yeah...what..." Brian stammered, and for some reason, all his professional training was leaving him and turned him into a bumbling mess. A very much on edge mess, unsure of what was going to happen and whether to fight or flee.

The Were sat up and waved him off. Stretching his thick powerful arms above his head, Brian heard the man's shoulder's pop and crunch. A look of discomfort swam across the werewolf's muzzle before passing. There were patches of the same lighter silver-gray fur under his arms as well. Without a single look at Brian as if Brian were the most normal thing to have in one's apartment, the Were stood up revealing his full impressive height, which had to be about six foot six, six foot seven. He was broad shouldered and his body was hard, defined and now seeing him up close, Brian understood exactly why he was able to do what he did. For a moment, the Were kept the sheet and blanket cinched around his waist and gave up, not even caring, tossing it to the floor with an irritated grunt.

He wore form fitting black Under Armor trunks that left little to the imagination (there was plenty to imagine, Brian noticed, his face flushing hot) and his bush tail hung limply, as if it had not yet awoken. Crossing over to the recliner, the Were pulled on his jeans (not the ripped ones Brian noticed from early this morning in the alley), and the shirt. Now dressed, he gathered up the blankets from the floor and carried them across to the bed, his padded bare furry feet slapping on the bare wood between the rugs. With a shrug, he tossed the bed clothes onto the bed. Still not looking at Brian again, the groggy Were stumbled into the kitchen, nearly catching his big toe on the edge of the slight riser that divided the rooms, cursing loudly,

"Goddamn it," he growled. Shaking his head and scratching his stomach absent-mindedly, the man-wolf yanked the fridge door open. The cool light and mist from the inside wafted over him as he winced from the glare. He searched for a moment, found what he was looking for and turned away, shutting the fridge door roughly with his left leg, with a clink of bottles and the sound of the seal snapping shut. In his hands he held a beer bottle, a brown glass one with a label that Brian didn't recognize. He crossed back to the living area, stepped down with heavy foot falls and came back to the couch and sat down heavily his legs spread comfortably, a small dust cloud rising up to dance with the dust motes in the air.

He looked up at Brian who was too stunned to say anything, not sure if he should fight, move or hell, he didn't even know. He badly wanted to reach for his phone. He needed to check on Elijah.

The wolf man looked him up and down once and sighed. The sound was a tired one, and in it, Brian heard many battles fought, and something more: loss. Loss seemed to ooze off of him and he was very much a grizzled fighter, Brian thought. Last night proved that it was no act.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, you can go back to your life, blah blah. Yes, you're alive and no, you aren't dreaming or dead. So, now that that is out of the way, kindly move your ass." The man said, his fangs flashing in the sun in a fake warm smile as he indicated he would like to turn the television on. Brian frowned, dragged his bag up and moved, coming around to the end of the sofa farthest from the grouchy werewolf. Why aren't I getting the hell out of here?, Brian thought but couldn't bring himself to flee. Something held him here and what it was, he didn't know.

"Who are you? What the hell happened last night? I need to make a call...there's..." Brian tried to say, with all of his words coming out wrong. It wasn't like him to behave like this. This whole situation was starting to finally sink in and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

The man-wolf indicated the empty space next to him on the couch and the recliner. "Normally, I'd say pull up a chair, but those goddamn bar stools are the most uncomfortable bastards to sit on. Your ass goes numb in less than five minutes. Seriously, chill out. Calm down and take a moment. You had a rough night." The Were used his thumb claw to crack open the lid of the beer and took two long gulps, sighing cotentedly.

Brian decided that if he wanted, the Were could easily catch him and get rid of him like he did the 86ers in the alleyway, so running was going to do him no good. Also, Brian wanted answers. So many questions but first...

"I need to check on someone first..." he said as he took a seat in the recliner, not the sofa, keeping some distance between him and his...savior.

Waving his hands, dismissively as if he didn't care, the Were motioned Brian to do what he needed. Frowning at the surly wolf, Brian unzipped his bag and sighed with relief as he saw his phone laying on top of his armored vest. Grabbing it, he hit the home key and saw he had about twenty percent power left but five full bars of service. Good. So wherever he was, he was still in the city. Coming to the conclusion that if the Were was going to let him make a phone call, that he wasn't a prisoner or a captive, Brian did his best to try and calm down. Quickly Brian slid his finger across the glass screen, unlocking the device and he saw immediately something that made him get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He had a voicemail. From four hours ago. His hands began to tremble as he saw who the number was from.

The area code was from Aurora.

It was Ellie.

Swallowing his fear down like a cold bitter poison, Brian tapped on the Phone icon and then hit the tape icon and the voicemail screen popped up with a tiny barely audible whoosh. There it was. The recording. Four minutes long from Ellie. He didn't have Visual Voicemail so he couldn't get a transcript but as he hit the play button and raised the phone to his ear, shaking, he knew what he was going to hear. He didn't see the Were on the coach was looking at him carefully, pretending not to notice him but watching none the less.

In his ear, Brian heard Ellie's voice but it wasn't her normal bubbly perky voice. It was shaky, quiet and filled with sorrow she was doing her best to contain but half way through, her control failed.

"Hey, Bri its me...I....I don't know how to say this....I got a call....a few hours ago. I'm sorry I just now called you but...I didn't know what to do. Brian...Elijah...The police called me this morning and there was an accident....a break in. Bri...Elijah's gone...He's gone..."

It was at this point in the recording that her calm but breathy facade broke entirely into painful sobs. Her next words stabbed him in his soul, splintering him inside with icy hot claws that shredded his heart and shrieked mournfully in his mind. He felt his hands shaking.

"Bri they broke in and killed him. The police said he was branded....they think it was the 86ers. I don't know why...he was never involved with those people...please let me know you are okay....call me please...when you get this...I need to talk to you....I...just call me when you get this...."

Shaking, Brian brought the phone down and watched the play symbol on the voicemail turn to a stop symbol and the phone went silent. He sat there, staring at the screen until it went dark. For a time, he was alone, not in a stranger's apartment. He was somewhere worse, a dark room that as full of nothing but ghosts. A voice broke him out of his cell.

"Hey..."

It was the Were. His voice was gruff but it had lost some of its edge and Brian thought he could almost hear something more under it. Concern. Looking up, Brian saw the Were have moved closer to the recliner but hadn't left the couch. He was looking at Brian, his head slightly cocked, his ears swung forward. Brain met the Were's eyes and for the first time, Brian noticed that his eyes weren't yellow or amber but a gentle soft blue. For a split moment, there was no trace of the cold blooded killer Brian saw in the alleyway.

"You okay? You look like you are about to pass out." he asked Brian.

Brian didn't know how to answer. He opened his mouth to reply but the words got stuck somewhere inside him and refused to budge. Finally he managed to spit something out and he hoped it made sense. Whether or not it did, he didn't know. He found that once he started, he couldn't stop. As he spoke, his voice trembled, it was laced anger and sorrow and a terrible rage that he tried to contain.

"Those guys...the 86ers...Last night...I'm a security guard at the hospital. Last night there was a druggie in the emergency room that attacked a nurse. My co-worker and I managed to get him outside...I broke his wrist after he slashed a nurse and turned to cut us...Cops came. Took him. We didn't know he was an 86er drug dealer. An important one. There was a cop there...he took our statements...our information. I was almost home when they jumped me. They knew what had happened...the only way they could...goddamn cop bastard fucker must be on the take....he fed em our information....they tried to kill me...you stopped them....but they went after my friend too....broke into his house a few hours ago...while I was out...they killed him. Branded him."

The Were's ears flattened against his skull as he sat back. For a second, Brian thought he saw regret and anger flash together as mixed as two emotions can be on his face but it was gone quickly.

"Fuck. I'm sorry....I didn't think you were going to make it yourself. I tried to get to you before..." he explained, looking at Brian, his face stoney but his eyes oddly pleading, almost asking for something. For what? Forgiveness?

"Why did you do that? How am I even alive? I shouldn't be here..." Brian sighed, falling back into the recliner, exhausted suddenly in a way he wasn't before. His mind was awash in thoughts. He needed to call work and let them know where he was. His shift started in a few hours. He needed to call Ellie and be there for her. He needed to call his mother and let her know. Did the hospital know? Was it on the news? His questions to the wolf were his only way of expressing the maelstrom of emotions fighting in his brain and stabbing his heart.

The Were sat back, the TV forgotten, his attitude changed. It was darker now, not cold but focused and his blue eyes fell from Brian as he turned away from him, looking down between his knees at something only he could see. Maybe he thought there was something, an absolution in the bottom of that beer bottle?

"Every night I go out. I get into fights. Get beat up. Do some beating up. Long story. I don't like gangs. I don't like drug pushers and hustlers. The cops don't ever patrol that area. That whole part of town has been let go. No one cares anymore. It helps me think."

Taking a swallow from his bottle, he carried on.

"I was about to call it a night when I found you and that bunch. I just did what anyone with a decent fucking bone in their body should have done."

"You killed them." Brian interjected, not yelling just an observation. Something about it seemed to hit a nerve with the Were.

"So? They would have killed you and me. They don't care. They're parasites. Feeding off people, draining them dry, hurting them, just like--"

The wolf went silent, sighing angrily. He downed his remaining beer in a single long drink, slamming the bottle down on the table.

"Doesn't matter. You're alive. Fuck them."

Brian shook his head. "No...I remember the big one...with the tattoos...he cut me. Bad. I work at a hospital. I'm not stupid. I shouldn't be here. No emergency room could have saved me so how am I here and without a scratch?"

At this question, the Were stiffened and looked sheepish before putting on his angry grouchy mask again.

He snorted.

"Well, you know what happens to people who get bit by shifters, right?"

Brian blanched. Yes. He knew very well what happened to normal humans who got bit by shifters. Shifters and full generations alike possessed an enzyme in their saliva that was harmless unless introduced directly into the bloodstream. Once in the bloodstream, the heart distributed it quickly and the enzyme unzipped proteins, split base pairs and essentially destroyed the DNA of the victim. The person died in agony as their body literally shut down and came apart. That was now thought to be the explanation for the Old World myths about werewolves biting people is that during fights with prejudiced and scared humans, shifters defended themselves the only way they knew how: by biting and the stories had been passed down until Madison Genetics discovered the truth behind it.

"But I'm not dead. My DNA should be in strands right now," Brian said, thoroughly confused on top of everything else.

"How much do you know about shifter genetics?" the man-wolf asked him.

Brian shrugged. "Some. What I heard on the news. Not much. Why?"

Blowing his breath out through his mouth, the werewolf was obviously about to tell him something that Brian didn't want to hear.

"As you know probably know from Madison Genetics and their wonderful educational videos that they shove down our throats on the news, shifters can change back and forth between a human and a canine form, usually show traits of a human-dog or human-wolf hybrid. They look like me. Covered in fur, tail, muzzle, fangs, ears, you get the drill. Sometimes, the genes that control the ability to shift get broken in two ways."

"One way," he continued, "is if the base pair is mutated. That results in what you know as a full generation werewolf, a werewolf who was born in his or her wolf state and will never be able to shift out of it, and therefore can never take on his or her human form. That would be my situation." The Were indicated himself with disdain.

Brian followed him so far and it caught him by surprise that the werewolf before him with his appearance of a ragged gristly mean fighter would be well versed in the sciences, at least on this subject. "What's the second way?"

"The second way a shifter gene can be broken is by being turned off. This is a human would have been a shifter, except for some God knows what going on in the womb, but regardless, the gene is turned off. It's there, dormant, asleep, never to wake up, never to be used. Studies have shown that less than 10 percent of the population on the planet has that mutation. The rest of them are your average John Does and Janes. Normal humans, no shifter genes at all. To have the shifter gene in any form, means a person had to have a shifter in his family somewhere. It's a dominant trait."

Brian shook his head, letting his phone drop in frustration into his bag. "What does all this have to do with me?" The Were growled at him and he instantly shut up.

"I heard stories, rumors, that said that if a person carried the dormant shifter gene and the enzyme that shifters produce in their saliva was introduced to the dormant DNA directly into the blood stream that instead of breaking it down, it would--"

Brian cut him off sharply. His voice was louder than he intended, as he fully understood what was being said.

"No!" Brian stood up and looked the Were dead on in the face, all fear suddenly gone, replaced by shock and anger and surprise and even a little doubt.

"The stories say that the enzyme wakes up the dormant genes and activates them, which is most likely why you are alive and walking and talking to me instead of bleeding out on the street. Remember last year with those stupid kids who wanted to be like the movies? Got themselves fucked up. One of em died. They called it the Were Bite Challenge?" The Were finished and sat back on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs.

Brian did remember it and thought the kids were stupid, just like the ones who were out there trying to swallow dry cinnamon or eating goddamned Tide pods. There poor Were kid who was involved was arrested but not found guilty of any malicious intent and was released, though he ended up committing suicide a few months later.

"How did...you...you bit me, didn't you? You fucking bit me. That's why my shoulder is so sore. I could have died. Jesus Christ...did you know? I mean, did you know what would happen?"

The Were shook his head negatively as his brows met, turning his face into an angry glare, resentful. "Look, I didn't know what else to do. You were bleeding out for fuck's sake. I wanted--"

"Wanted to what?" Brian snapped.

The Were stood up and crossed over to Brian. He was a few inches taller than Brian and Brian almost had to look up at him. Outside, car horns blared and the sun was beginning to set. The look on his face was not a pleasant one. His body gave off a radiant heat and the fur on the back of his neck was standing up ever so slightly. Brian thought he saw a flicker of yellow in his blue eyes. Brian stood up and met him face to face, his own temper rising unusually quickly.

"I saved your life. I could have left you to die. I don't wan't to be a hero, I just did what I thought a normal decent person would do: help somebody. You could show some goddamn graitude. No, I didn't know it would work, I was desperate and it did work. You're here aren't you?" the Were, said, his teeth clenched as he tried to maintain his own temper.

The next six silent seconds felt like an eternity before the tension finally broke apart and melted, just like a snow cone in the sun of a hot summer's day.

Powerless to change the situation, Brian rubbed his brow and sat heavily back in the recliner. His friend was dead. One of his only friends in this fucking city. He had gang members out looking for him and he doubted the group that came after him would be the last, especially since three of them never came back. He had a goddamn target on his back now. Fucking bastard cop. Now there was this on top of all that other shit. What did it mean? As far as he knew, he had no shifters in his family. Granted he didn't know much about his dad's side, but that was because his dad had died when he 15. The only relatives Brian knew of on his dad's side were human and there sure as hell weren't any shifters on his mom's side.

What did that mean? Wake up dormant DNA?

Brian's brain screamed at him that he didn't like what it implied. Images of full moons and bad movies shot through his mind. What's going to happen to me?

But you are alive and that means something, his mind told him. Sort out the rest as it comes.

The Were frowned at him, looking down at him like an angry parent.

"What?" Apparently he could pick up expressions too.

"I can't leave tonight. If I go, I've got a target on my back a mile wide. I can't call the cops because I can't trust them anymore." Brian said, a frustrated sigh escaping him, his right falling away from his chin, losing the thoughtful repose it had somehow found on its own. His voice was a bastardized mix of irritation and dejection.

The next few moments seemed to stretch into infinity. Finally the tension broke as the Were sighed in defeat and uncrossed his burly arms, letting them fall to his side after he gave the universal gesture for giving up.

"Look," he said, his voice some what softer. "You've had a shitty morning. You've got a lot going on. I get what that's like more than you know. Why don't you crash here...at least for a day or two. I have a friend who's more knowledgeable about this DNA stuff than me and she could come by and run some tests or something...figure out if everything's okay. At least then you get peace of mind and you don't get shot."

"Friend?" Brian asked.

"She's a doctor. A geneticist." The man-wolf replied. " How do you think I know all this crap? We don't come with instruction manuals just because we're different."

For a moment, he looked distant, but came back around, rubbing the back of his head with a hand absently, the sound of his fur rustling as he did so was surprisingly loud to Brian's ears. Dismissing it as a headache from stress, Brian tried to pay attention.

"Look, you can have the couch for a few days so we can sort this all out. Just don't through my shit. If its early, try to shut up and keep quiet. I sleep late on Friday mornings. Saturday and Sunday, I'm down in the garage. Its downstairs. I'm a mechanic. I own the place. No ones going to bother you." The Were said and crossed the room to the bed area. He scooped up a spare pillow from the bed and the same bed clothes he had been sleeping under on the couch before. Coming back to the couch, he tossed them down on the sofa and motioned to the white door across the way.

"Bathroom is in there. Shower too. Towels are in the closet as you go in on the left. Help yourself. If you got extra clothes in that bag of yours, feel free to wash them. Washer and Dryer are down the hall through that door," he told Brian, pointing just beyond the kitchen.

"If you don't have anything, I can lend some of my crap. Its old but it might fit you decently. Be just a big bigger but who gives a fuck. No one's going to see you anyway. Word of caution: I have a habit of walking around naked after a shower in the mornings. If that bothers you, deal with it. I'll try to restrain myself. Any questions?"

Brian snorted. Wonderful. "No...no. Just...thanks, I guess, for saving me and letting me stay here for a bit. I need to call work. I've got some vacation time and sick leave I can use to cover me. I don't feel like its the best idea for me to head out now and give those assholes an easy target anyway. I need to call Ellie, too...she's alone and needs....something. I don't know what to say....fuck what a day."

"Now you're thinking. And I agree with you on that. Fuck this shit." The Were said, not pushing the matter on who Ellie was respecting Brian's privacy and for a brief second a sardonic smile tried to tug at the corners of his mouth but he squashed it. Brian reached for his phone while the Were turned to go through the door at the end of the kitchen. Brian supposed it led to the downstairs area too. Before the Were could open the door and vanish from sight, Brian stopped him with a final question.

"Hey, man. I never got your name. Mine's Brian. Brian MacGregor."

The Were paused, his furry hand on the door knob. He looked back over his left shoulder just the slightest and his voice almost had normalcy back to it instead of that constant gruff and grouchy vibe. When the Were answered, it was quiet, as if the idea of his own identity was foreign to him or a concept he didn't deal with often anymore, a memory or product of days that were long lost to him.

"My names Max. Max Mullen. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs. I've got some shit to do."

With that, Max turned and was through the door as it closed behind him with a soft click.

Alone, Brian picked up his phone once again, his mind whirling but now, for some reason, a bit less afraid. Unlocking the screen, he quickly dialed the first set of numbers that popped in his head: A call to human resources about that time off and he wondered what story he was going to come up with to get access to his huge amount of vacation time let alone how much he should actually use.

After that he would call Ellie and check on her, let her know he was okay. It was best not to think about Elijah just yet; best to stave off the bleeding on that wound for a few moments more but for now, he thought as he hit the green connect button to send his call to HR, best deal with one thing at a time.

One thing at a time was all he could deal with right now.

Just one thing.

******

Two hours later, Brian sat in the recliner still. He had managed to call the hospital and explain to them that his mother had taken ill in New York and that he needed a few days to tend to her affairs and help her through a nasty bout of what the doctors were calling influenza, which struck the doctors, as well as Brian that it happened to occur in the middle of summer.

The lie, even as he told it to Becky Carmichael, who was responsible for attendance, made him feel sick to his stomach, more than he already was. Yes, it was paid leave and yes, if he was being honest, he had more than earned the time off. He had not taken a vacation day in more than a year. Yes, it was at least a week, with the option for more under FMLA, but it felt wrong. He felt guilty just thinking about it. Becky of course, was understanding, given that the entire security staff she said was reeling from the surprise news that one of their own was found dead in his house this afternoon. Brian pretended to be shocked when Becky told him. It caused a surge of anger to roil up and that sickening guilt in his stomach churned into a frothing rage that he tried to keep contained.

After getting off of the phone with HR, Brian had tried to call Ellie and check on her but her phone kept going to voicemail. He had tried at least six times and each time there was no answer. He thought about calling her the restaurant where she worked but decided against it. She had enough on her plate without him poking around at her job. She needed time alone, he reminded himself, fighting the dangerous urge to given into the depressing voice in the back of his head that tried to flood him with worry and more fear. Instead, after getting off the phone, he had turned it off and let the silent handset rest on his thigh before tossing it into his open duffle bag next to him. It landed with a soft thunk against the bulk of his work vest, sliding off into the shadows of the bag. Watching it, Brian felt like the phone; sliding irrevocably towards darkness.

Yesterday, everything was normal.

Everything was upside down. Nothing was normal. The night was rising in the shadow of the day gone grey. He had felt settled, sure of himself.

_Now? _

What was there to be sure about? His friend was dead. His life was at risk. He couldn't bear to call his mother and sooner or later he would have to face her and tell her everything that had happened. Max hadn't returned once to the apartment after leaving it two hours ago, leaving Brian utterly alone. The Were had indicated to Brian to make himself at home but Brian couldn't bring his legs to move. Max didn't seem like the type to let anything phase him; Brian wondered darkly if the man felt anything at all. His anger towards the man who had saved his life was irrational and it was only there because of...

His shoulder twanged, reminding him why he was angry.

Brian thought to himself, his inner thoughts a fighting for supremacy in the apartment's lonely tranquility, with only the occasional rush of water through pipes, the cycling of the central air and the hum of the refrigerator. To survive a bite from a shifter, any shifter, full generation or not, was not something he ever heard of. Every case he heard of resulted in the death of the person, the human, being bitten. Usually, it happened with teenagers and younger inexperienced children getting into fights. It always made the news; it seemed far more common than it probably was, given the media's love of a controversy.

But you aren't human anymore, his mind poked at him with a new white shot of fear and uncertainty.

That thought was deeply unnerving and Brian swallowed once, his amber eyes lifting up for the first time since he had fallen into his solitary reflection. Other than a headache, he felt relatively physically normal, hell, even better than normal he thought. Given the fact that he should have a severe concussion, lacerations and bruises all over his body yet had none, he didn't feel reassured that everything was okay. He wasn't prejudice but the idea of losing his humanity was on a primal level, disturbing in ways he could not articulate.

Move, he ordered his brain and body.

Brain stood up from the chair and standing straight up, he felt his muscles try to cramp fiercely in the back of his legs and ass. He had been sitting for longer than he thought. He stretched them out with a frown, moving his back. He felt his spine crack and instant relief from the stiffness that had set in. Still shirtless and dressed only in his jeans and shoes, he crossed over to the windows and looked out onto the city.

The sun was rapidly setting and the lights, the billions of artificial stars that made up every window and room in the tall steel and glass spires of Dawson City had begun to glow. The buildings around this area of town seemed to be run down, smaller, more compact. The brownstone and brick were faded with age. Give the relation of the skyline, and its orientation on the horizon, Brian realized he probably wasn't far from his own apartment, maybe a mile or two. He looked for his building but gave up, realizing with the fading light that it was fruitless. Below, he saw the smaller city streets were much darker than the ones near the hospital. Street lights were broken, trash littered the alleyways and people, (shady people, his security guard senses kicking in) lurked in the shadows. This neighborhood being called ghetto would be a gross over estimate of its makeup.

In the distance, the storm that had ravaged the city last night lingered, its fat dark thunder filled clouds daring anyone to ask it to move along and Brian had to distinct feeling it would be raining again before the nights out. It would be a hot thunderstorm this time, and the air would be muggy, damp with humidity.

Absently, his right hand had begun to move over his right thigh. He was unaware of the motion until the sensation of the rough jeans fabric finally registered through his stress addled brain. It was more than rough, it was sharp, dry, caked. Looking down, he saw the dark maroon stains on them and closed his eyes, his brain offering up images of blades and meat, flashing cold steel and hot blood.

"Fuck."

His voice was small, quiet and went unanswered. Brian knew he needed to calm down before he gave himself a coronary and standing around looking out a window while his mind went down darker mental streets and was peeking into even scarier mental rooms was not helping. He could not help Ellie; he couldn't help Elijah. Calling his mom was out of the question for now. He was at least for time being not a target so the only thing was left was to take care of himself. At least, he thought, maybe a hot shower to wash off the grime from last night and get some fresh clothes on would be beneficial.

Moving back across the living room to the recliner, he bent over, lifting his duffle bag up to the chair, setting it down harder than he needed to. Digging around in it, he hoped he would find his gym clothes under his work uniform. For the first time all day, he felt some relief seep into his body as he found them. They were nothing but an older purple Adidas shirt, a pair of loose but comfortable athletic pants that he favored and a single pair of blue trunks, just like the white pair he had on now. He kept the clothes usually in the bag, cleaned and ready to change into in case the urge to work out hit him after work and he was grateful that last night he had put them in there, despite never giving them a second thought after the chaos yesterday had brought. He wouldn't need to borrow clothes from Max and a part of him was grateful for that.

Jerking his bag up and throwing it over his shoulder, he made towards where Max had indicated the bathroom was. Stepping through the white door, he saw to his surprise, the bathroom was surprisingly compact and at the same time, extremely messy. The lights were already on, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. Well, not messy, he thought, taking a look around again just cluttered. His was little better at home; it was a guy thing, he thought dismissively. The room itself was painted in teal with white tile on the floors and lower half of the walls. A sink and counter lined one wall with a wide mirror taking up the wall behind the sink. The sink itself was covered in body washes, shampoos, combs, brushes and an electric clipper set. A tooth brush sat up on a shelf above the sink, next to deodorant. Curious, Brian sat down his bag and picked up the bottle of body wash. How did a fur covered person wash? His curiosity got the better of him and even as he picked it up, it surprised him.

The bottle was marketed by Old Spice and was part of their Wild Collection but it was specially formulated for lycanthropes with fur. It was in fact, a type of shampoo and body wash in one, loaded with conditioners as to not break down the fur's natural essential oils and coatings. Brian noted the label did read safe for human use. Reading the name of the scent, he felt a smirk cross his face, an ironic one.

Wolfthorn.

_ _ Setting the bottle down, Brian noticed the deodorant on the shelf belonged to the same collection, specially made for lycanthropes. He had no idea there was an entire market for shifters and people like Max; he had never given it a thought but now confronted with it, it made sense. People like Max especially would need special products and considerations. The rest of the counter top was taken up by various spray bottles of Axe and blue mouth wash.

Moving to close the door, Brian shut it with a quiet click, wondering if he should turn the lock or not. He considered that this wasn't his home and it would be rude. More not wanting to piss off the Were downstairs who could be more than intimidating, he decided to not lock the door. There, behind the door was a tiny towel closet. Opening the slatted door, Brian saw the towels and washcloths next to a large blow dryer. The towels weren't really folded and put away neatly but were rather haphazardly placed. Max didn't seem to put emphasis on order really anywhere that Brian had seen so far. It would have irked mom, Brian thought and for half a second, a small smile tried to be born on his face but his mind killed it brutally. Grabbing a thick brown towel and cloth, Brian closed the closet and set them on the closed toilet seat lid. The bathroom did have a small window above the toilet, nearly the ceiling. It slid open with a latch and Brian noticed it was already open. He left it as it was the sounds of passing cars and the thrum of the city bleeding into the small room with the occasional soft warm pre-storm breeze.

Letting his back fall onto the ground, he looked into the mirror and looked at himself properly for the first time in over a day.

His face was tired looking, framed in his medium dark brown hair. His hair, his mom loved to say, would burn like fire on the tips when the sun passed through it just the right way. His broad nose sat squarely in the middle of his face and his eyes looked back at him, seeking anything that was different about himself. He looked from his shoulders down to his waist. The same square shoulders, except now one was marred by what looked like a withered scar lined by a semicircle of puckered puncture wounds that had filled in. He thought he was imagining things but the savage bite mark that Max had inflicted on him already looked smaller. Was it healing so fast like the knife wound. That implied darker things than Brian wanted to think about.

His chest and stomach were powerful but more stocky, not as defined as Max's but were still noticeable. His biceps were decently sized, nothing huge but nothing tiny either. His chest and belly hair was somewhat lighter in color than the hair on his head, almost auburn but still very much brown. Sighing, he unbuttoned his jeans and let them and his trunks both drop to the floor, kicking off his shoes as well. Continuing his visual once over, Brian found nothing out of the ordinary that he could identify. His thighs and calves were dusted in the same auburn hair as his torso and were the only part of him that had true definition. He enjoyed kick boxing and it was one of the work outs he favored the most. The women at the hospital thought he had a nice ass but to Brian, it was just an ass. He never noticed.

Moving further down, he looked at his penis. It wasn't small but it was also not gigantic. He prided himself on it however and when it stood up in his spare time, since he didn't have much of a love life outside of his own right hand, it stood at a healthy seven inches or so. He was proud of its girth and unlike many men, he was fully intact. His mother did not believe in circumcision, feeling it was an unnecessary medical practice designed to funnel money to cosmetics companies. It hung now, heavy and flaccid, looking somewhat forlorn in its auburn bush. Below that bush, his balls hung, heavy and were always as he remembered. His right testicle hung a bit higher than his left, but that was all. Nothing changed there.

His feet were the same. Still the same well trimmed nails. He grimaced at the size of his feet. He had always felt his feet were too big and finding shoes to fit him was a challenge. He preferred boots for their ankle support. Size 15's were as hard to find as they were expensive he mused.

Looking back up to the mirror, he looked deep into his own eyes and sighed heavily.

So much has happened so fast. What do I do now?

He frowned.

Something was different.

Leaning forward, he thought it as a trick of the light as he studied his own irises more closely. His mouth dropped open in shock as he moved into the sharp light of the over -mirror lamps. His reflection did not lie and he knew immediately he was not hallucinating.

His irises, once a warm golden amber hue, had changed color.

They were now a vibrant bottle green with flecks and streaks of honey gold. His scleras were still clean and white and his pupils were the same jet black holes they had always been but his irises...

The damn things had changed color.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach and the sick feeling came back as his shoulder took that moment to send a jolt of pain up into his chest. He blinked several times, trying to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was. There was no mistaking it.

He now had greenish gold eyes.

What the hell does this mean...he groaned mentally.

You know what it means, buddy boy, his mind snapped back cruelly.

Groaning in frustration, Brian simply turned away from the mirror. He couldn't deal with any more shit at the moment and he would have to deal with this new development later. Why didn't Max say anything to him? He wondered.

Because you numb-nut fuck, Brian snapped at himself in his head, answering his own question. Max doesn't know you from Adam and he wouldn't have known to say anything so stop whining.

_ _ Throwing the plastic shower curtain aside, Brian exposed the inner shower and saw that it was clean, with white well scrubbed white ceramic tile walls. The rings that suspended the curtain jangled as it came to rest. The tub itself was a modern high strength white polymer composite and a single clean white rubber shower mat sat snug on the bottom. A hair catcher was fitted into the drain and was surprisingly clean with barely any detritus in it. The shower head itself was thankfully relatively high up. As a taller person, Brian found that more often than not, most shower heads tended to point at his chest as opposed to his head. Max may have installed this one himself, he thought to himself.

A metal shower caddy was securely fastened to the wall. The same types of shower gels and shampoos sat fat on its shelves with red and blue bottles. A red and black spherical shower loofah dangled from its cotton string. Grabbing his cloth, Brian stepped inside the shower and drew the curtain closed, the rings jangling again, the light from the room dimming as it filtered through the white plastic. He turned the water handles, using his bare hand to feel the temperature and judge it carefully as it came rushing out of the bath faucet. Settling on a warmer than usual temperature than he normally used, Brian pulled up the switch knob, and the water vanished from the faucet. A moment later there was a noise in the pipes as the water gushed out of the shower head in a powerful surge, settling into a rain of warm clean water that hit his bare skin like the blessing of the sun itself.

Cascading off of his chest and face, the water rained down in a monsoon of heat. Soon the air itself was heavy with the moisture. Ducking his head forward, Brian let the water soak into his hair and in moments, he was thoroughly soaked, his hair hanging in his eyes and face, beads of moisture hanging from his beard like diamond fruits. The hair on his chest and stomach was soon matted down like an otter's fur and for the next five minutes he just let the water pound his flesh, drowning him as he finally let his mind and emotions free.

The face of his friend flashed before him behind his closed eyes and he felt his heart break. Not willing to hold it back anymore, he let the pain wash over him and the anger came as well. Bracing himself against the wall of the shower he leaned forward and let them come, too tired to fight and too wounded to care. There would be no more late weekend nights laughing around a beer with Elijah and Ellie. No more gym work outs with Elijah as his spotter. There would be no one there to hold the bar. No one would be there now. Only the cold embrace and comfort of death was there and it beckoned to him to remind him of its finality. Elijah had meant more to Brian that Brian had ever told Elijah.

Here, alone in the shower he could be alone with the truth and his thoughts. Elijah had been more than a friend, Brian knew.

Elijah had been so much more but he had never known.

He could have never known. It was unspoken but here in the silent memories.

Brian had in fact, fallen for Elijah Connors not long after they met but once he had found out that Elijah had a girlfriend, he had made a promise to himself to never say a word. He cared for Ellie deeply and she was a wonderful light. He could have never hurt her but he could not change his feelings either, only bury them and deal with them alone. It was good enough that Elijah was there, always there, a friend true as anyone could ever ask for. Last summer, Elijah and Brian had gone camping for a weekend. Elijah fancied himself something of a master angler, despite rarely catching anything. For him, Brian remembered, it was the thrill of the chase, the hunt. The biggest thing that either of them had caught that weekend had been a trout, barely a foot long.

That camping trip had come at a perfect junction in Brian's life, when he had felt the most disconnected he had ever been, with his own demons battling with new realizations about himself. He had been dealing with his feelings for Elijah all year and it had sent him into a tail spin. Brian never considered himself as gay man. He wasn't like the stereotypes seen on television and movies with flailing wrists and lilting voices. He didn't fit in there. There had been enough bullshit going on that year with the entire argument over gay rights and Brain just wanted to avoid it. That weekend with Elijah, with just the two of them, allowed him to obtain a peace of mind he had never thought possible.

It was that final Sunday, before they came back, that they both had lain outside, under the stars, in their sleeping bags, next to a roaring crackling fire, deep in the woods, away from any people or responsibilities. Brian had looked at Elijah, remembering getting lost in his amber eyes and the way his fur moved in the night breeze. At that point, Elijah and Ellie had been dating on and off for almost that entire year. They had their arguments but had worked things out well especially the last few weeks.

Elijah had laid his head propped up on his hands. Brian had lain on his back, eyes up at the stars lost in thought.

_ "Hey, Bri."_

_ Elijah's baritone had cut into the night, whispered words rustling like the trees. Brian had been pulled out of his thoughts and looked over at his friend._

_ "Yeah?"_

_ Elijah had looked lost in thought and he turned his head to look at Brian, his amber eyes catching the firelight, glowing warmly. His eyeshine was golden._

_ "Do you believe in love? I mean, really believe in it?"_

_ The question had caught Brian off guard. He had never been one to think about it but it was more the subject matter that caught him off guard especially given his own thoughts at the moment. He looked over at his friend and frowned as he answered, as honestly as he could._

_ "Yeah. I believe in it."_

_ Elijah rose up on his elbows._

_ "But do you believe you can love someone so much it hurts? Is that crazy?" he asked, shifting around in his sleeping back, the fire crackling, bathing them both in the warmth._

Brian paused. For a moment, he looked Elijah straight in the eyes, and for that moment, it felt like an eternity passed as emotions and thoughts and words he knew he should never say to his friend threatened to spill out. In that split second, Brian had wanted to tell him everything. He felt his mouth open and form words and he replied to Elijah, lowering his eyes as he said the next words.

_ "No, it's not crazy."_

_ Elijah seemed satisfied with the answer and laid back properly, getting comfortable and ready to fall asleep._

_ "Good. Ellie and me have really worked things out lately and I think I truly love her, man. She's...she's awesome."_

_ Brian had felt something hurt but he smiled anyway, putting on his mask._

_"Yeah man, she's pretty awesome. We'd better get some shut eye before the sun comes up. It's a long ass drive back to the city." He replied, turning over, putting his back to Elijah. Elijah nodded and laughed to himself. _

_ "I can't wait to see her when we get back. I've missed her. I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow after we get back. Gonna take her to that one spot she loves so much. I've got it all planned out. G'nite man."_

_ "Night."_

Back in the present, Brain felt new moisture on his cheeks and it ran down his jaw bone, mixing with the shower water in his beard as the hot steam filled the shower. He knew what they were and let them come. In his mind, one of the song's he used to listen to at home came softly into his thought stream and it lodged there, just as it often did when he listened to it alone in his apartment as he wrote.

I feel you In every stone In every leaf of every tree If ever grown I feel you In everything In every river that might flow In every seed you might have sown I feel you

Schiller. I Feel You.

It captured how he felt perfectly and hearing it now echoing in his mind made the tears come harder and he didn't care. For the next ten minutes, he vented, letting the pent up pain come to a head, the anger taking a back seat and being filed away for later. When it was finally done, he was emotionally spent, unable to feel much of anything but the tears did stop. Slowly, he felt himself squeeze a few cold drops of the shower gel onto the soaked cloth. The powerful masculine scent opened his nostrils and he went to work scrubbing every inch of himself. He scrubbed until he was raw, as though he would wash away everything that had came out and while it didn't, he did feel more himself by second round of washing and hair scrubbing. Rinsing off for the last time, he shut the water off and withdrew the curtain, grabbing his towel. Careful to dry off in the tub, not wanting to get water on the tile floor and come crashing down to bust his ass, he toweled off and was dry by the time he stepped out of the tub.

He draped the damp towel over the shower curtain rod to let it air dry and looked into the mirror again, seeing his red eyes and clean face. His skin felt raw but clean. He smelled strongly of Old Spice Wolfthorn. Spotting a comb, he quickly put his hair in place, not really putting much effort into it but just enough to be presentable. He similarly brushed his beard out, making sure it was even. He debated for a moment about using Max's deodorant but quickly decided he didn't care about being a good guest beyond what he had already done and that mentally he was out of fucks to give.

He lathered it under each arm and pulled on his gym clothes. Tying the string so that his pants would fall off, he adjusted himself before pulling his shirt on. It, like the pants, was old and loose, very comfortable and its fabric was clean, smelling strongly of Gain. Pulling out his clean pair of gym socks, Brain put them on, followed by his shoes and shoved his dirty jeans and clothes into his duffle bag. Zipping it, he took a glance around the bathroom to ensure everything was as he had put it. Deciding it was he left the bathroom, shutting the light off behind him. Crossing back to the recliner, he tossed his bag behind it and stood there, now cleaned and feeling a new sensation he recognized immediately.

Brian felt alone, crushingly so, more than anything he had felt before. He also felt the simmering anger beneath the sorrow and not wanting to give into it, Brian made towards the kitchen doorway. Stepping up onto the upper level, he moved across the short hall way and opened the door, the knob cool beneath his hands. Closing it behind him, Brian stepped into a hallway.

The hallway itself was plain with hanging ceiling lamps and three large windows, similar to the ones in the main apartment. The walls here were unadorned red brick and mortar, the flooring was gray poured cement and there were no decorations here. Another shorter hallway led off to his left and through it, Brian saw a tiny laundry room with just enough room for a washer, dryer and a small counter on which currently sat a clothes hamper and messy unfolded shirts and pants. A pair of black Under Armor trunks and socks lay discarded on the floor along with other dirty clothes.

Moving forward, Brian made his way down the hall and came to a stair well. Taking it, he followed the stairs down two flights and came to another door, this one much more solid, made of heavy steel. The lock on it was thick and looked expensive and strong as hell. A push bar lay across the middle of the door instead of a handle. Not knowing really what to expect, he pushed on the bar. The door's latch unlocked and with a heavy thunk , the door swung open, its hydraulics hissing as it did.

Before Brian laid the garage that Max had told him about; it was a decent sized work area, with room for at least three cars. It was constructed not of red brick but rather of thick grey cinderblocks with a grease spotted cement floor. Three under car work pits were in each area, however, only two of them were functional. The third was sealed off. Brian noticed, only one work area was empty, the one in the center. He guessed that's where customers would park their cars.

The work bay on the far left had a black 2008 Ford F-150 with a gleaming silver grille parked in its space with its hood open, its engine exposed. A beer bottle sat balanced on its fender. White towels draped the metal to prevent damage or grease from smearing the paint.

To the far right, in the work bay with the sealed under car work space, Max it seemed had instead converted it into something of a personal gym. A beat up but solid weight bench took up most of the space. Barbells and weights of varying sizes were stacked in piles. A dusty and well worn punching bag hung from a steel brace and harness set into the gray cinder block of the wall. Dingy florescent lights lit the work out space and there on the wall in front of the punching bag was something taped to a wall.

Max didn't seem to be anywhere in sight and curiosity overcame his common sense as Brian made his way over to the work out area, crossing over the cement plain that was the empty work bay, stepping over red steel tool boxes and car parts as he did. Soft music played on a hidden radio but Brian couldn't identify the song or station. It sounded like rock and roll. The lights for some reason bothered Brian's eyes as he crossed into the right work bay.

It took him a moment to figure out why.

The flicker was very noticeable. He wondered why Max wouldn't just change the bulbs as it was plenty noticeable enough to give Brian a headache, worse than the one that had been persistently with him since he woke up. Trying to ignore it, Brian focused on the wall in front of the punching bag. Closer now, he saw it for what it was.

A single worn and faded photograph.

It was a Polaroid. I've not seen those in ages, Brian thought to himself as he got closer and finally was right in front of it, seeing it clearly.

The picture was well worn and the edges actually were darkened, Brian noticed, like they had been burned. The photo had been taped repeatedly with Scotch tape. It had been duct taped to the wall and it obviously meant something to someone and Brian wondered if that person was Max. Looking from the punching bag to the photo, he realized that it was clearly set up to be seen from the work out position as one would use the bag.

Frowning, his face filled with a curiosity he could not explain, he reached up a hand, extending an index finger, tracing the outside edges of the photo.

There were people in the photo; there was human woman in it with flowing dark hair that had been blowing in her face. She had warm milky skin and a rounded cheerful face. She was dressed in a thick parka with the hood down, the heavy winter gloves hanging off of her neck on their cord, her bare wrist coming just into frame as she snapped the picture. Her other arm was wrapped around a child, maybe twelve years old, a child who was very obviously not human. Brian's eyes widened as he recognized the same gray fur, the wide pointed eyes, the same noble muzzle, albeit somewhat shorter. The same cool blue eyes. Only these eyes were happy, full of life and energy.

It was Max.

Behind the two of them, an adult lycanthrope stood, and like his son, he was covered in smooth gray fur. Unlike his son, he had soft amber eyes, gentle and kind. He wore square glasses with black frames. His fur around his chin and sideburns was a darker color, almost black and it formed a beard. The Were's hair was short and messy, blown by the wind, and it too was a shade or so darker than his fur. Max's tail was visible in the shot, obviously wagging, betraying his excitement.

That meant that the woman was Max's mother and looking closer, Brian saw that she shared her son's blue eyes that might as well have been oceans. The moment, captured on a sunny winter day was a snap shot of happiness, something that seemed lacking in Max's apartment and his garage. This one single photograph was the only bright spot, indeed, now that Brian thought about it, the only true decoration in the entire apartment and garage combined.

A clanging of metal on metal brought him away from the picture. He turned to see that he was not as alone as he thought as Max wheeled himself out from under the truck. Quickly, Brian moved away from the picture and crossed back into the center area, trying to look as though he had been there the entire time. Max was shirtless and covered with black greasy streaks across this chest. His hands were similarly coated in grim. In his right hand he held a socket wrench and clenched between his teeth was a small pen light.

Noticing Brian, he sat the wrench down and grabbed a grease rag that had been laying on the cement, wiped off his hands and got to his feet, pulling the pen light out of his mouth, turning it off and tossing it onto a work bench. Brian watched it sail through the air and land among the discarded tools and oil filters. Odd, he thought to himself. As the pen had moved through the air, Brian had been able to see it move, as though it were in slow motion, was able to track its every bounce and was able to see exactly where it landed. The stress was having an effect he didn't like, he decided.

Max moved over to a sink on the wall, turned the water on and squeezed out two shots of orange pumice soap into his furry palms. He washed his hands quickly, getting rid of the grease and oil. As he wiped his hands on a clean cloth, he spoke.

"So you decided to shower up. I smell my shower gel."

Brian suddenly felt sheepish. "Yeah. I called my work. Let them know I'd be gone a few days."

Max turned to face him, finishing drying his hands. "What about your friend? Get a hold of her?"

Shaking his head and moving over closer, but stopping next to the truck, not coming too close to the sink area, Brian replied.

"No. Just went to voicemail. I left her a message."

Max merely grunted and went back to his truck. Sticking his head into the engine bay, his ears perking as Brian talked to him, he went about making sure everything was in order. The silence was unbearable so Brian broke it.

"So the people in the picture...who are they?"

Brian noticed Max stiffen and saw his ears pin back against his head, his tail going still as well. A moment later, he resumed checking his engine.

"I don't want to talk about it. They're nobody."

Satisfied, Max reached moved the protective cloths and beer bottle away, put down the hood support rod and reached up to shut it.

"That kid in the picture looks like you. Is that your family?" Brian pressed.

Max let the hood slam down.

Hard.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

Brian shook his head. "Look, man, if we're going to be stuck here for a few days together, especially with whatever the hell is happening, I'm just thinking we should try to get to know each other a bit."

Max moved past him and walked over to a tool bench. Searching around for a moment, he came back, a set of car keys dangling in his right hand. Stepping over to the driver's side of the truck, Max opened the door with a soft slick of the latch and jumped into the leather interior. His ears were still pinned back, Brian noticed. Without sparing Brian even a glance, Max started the truck.

The engine roar to life, settled instantly into a calm purr and ran smoothly for about a minute before Max cut the power to it. He seemed satisfied with his work, shutting the driver's door behind him, pocketing the keys as he stepped past Brian.

"Look, I don't mind helping you and I know you've been through a lot of shit. I won't pretend to understand fully what's happening to you or why beyond the fact that it's my damn fault but you're alive. That's what counts. It doesn't mean we have to be buddies. I don't do the friends thing." Max told him gruffyly without stopping moving towards the door that led to the apartment. As he reached for it, the anger that simmered inside Brian peeked its head out. He was trying to deal with the situation as best as he could, make the best of this strange new hell he found himself in and before he could even think about what he said next the words were out of his mouth.

"You know man, you're probably right. We don't have to know each other. I'm just some sap you decided to step in for, bite and turn into God knows what and then give the fucking cold shoulder to. Thanks for that, by the way. "

The fur on the back of Max's thick neck bristled visibly as he turned on Brian and pointed a finger squarely in his face.

"Don't even try that with me. I saved your life, you don't owe me anything and I sure as fuck don't owe you a goddamned thing. I don't have to open every fucking closet and pull out the skeletons for you like some freak show. And furthermore," he said, stepping forward, his finger with its blunt claw inches away from Brian's nose as they stood eye to eye, both men bristling for a fight that came out of nowhere but neither seemed to care.

"If you have something to say about people like me, say it. It's not like we've not heard them every fucking day of our fucking lives. I'd be happy to show you the door right now, so either decide whether you want to man up a bit and stop being an asshole or hit the bricks. Makes no difference to me. One thing I can promise you is that there are far worse things than gang members out there. You're welcome to take your chances if you feel so inclined."

Brian felt his blood pressure rise and something deeper inside of him stirred, something new, and something primal. It rushed through his head and it felt good to give into its savagery for a moment. He felt his teeth grind.

"I'm not fucking prejudiced for fuck's sake. You can shove that idea right up your ass--" he snapped.

Max threw his hands up, his ears positively pinned to his skull at this point, his tail lashing angrily. "Then what is your problem? You've been back and forth since you woke up. Jesus Chris--"

"I've got a lot of shit going on in case you haven't noticed--" Brian snarled back.

Max stopped him, a look of realization coming over his face as he silenced Brian with that look.

"What?" Brian asked, incredulously.

"I know what your problem is." Max said, his voice dangerously serious and quiet now, as he stepped away from Brian and moving back towards the apartment stair well door. "I know exactly what your fucking problem is."

Not knowing why he did it but unable to help himself, Brian clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms bunching. He forced his arms to stay at his side but it took a titanic effort.

"Oh really?"

Max yanked open the door and pinned Brian with a glare that could have melted ice, his blue eyes gaining a deadly yellow sheen.

"You're afraid." He said as he turned away, leaving Brian in stunned silence as the words stung him and sunk in deeply. Not having anything more to say, unable to say anything as the cold blunt truth hit him in the face, Brian watched Max stop and turn away from the apartment stair door. Instead, he crossed back over to the truck and jumped into the driver's seat. Before he slammed the door and turned the engine over, Max's words carried over to Brian.

"Stay or go. It's your choice. I won't hold your hand. The doctor I told you about is coming by after her shift tonight. Be here or not, it's your call."

With a roar the truck's motor came to life and the headlights flared. The garage door slid up a second later and without so much as another word, Max floored the engine, the truck bouncing onto the road and out into the night traffic as the city carried on, leaving Brian alone once again as the garage door slowly closed down and locked with a click.

With a groan of agitation, Brian balled up his fists and hit the air impotently, grumbling as he turned and yanked open the door to the apartment level.

The door swung so hard on its hydraulics that it slammed into the brick wall, sending up a poof of brick dust and with a crunch, sent spider webs cascading from the door handle's impact point. Not noticing, Brian stormed up the stairs, his anger irrationally strong, coiling inside him like a poisonous snake ready, no, needing to lash out at anything or something but all he was left with once again was the silence that surrounded with all the effectiveness of a wet blanket in a snow storm.

He had never felt so conflicted in his life. It seemed pointless to go over it all again in his mind. The only thing he couldn't, nor wanted to think of, was what might be happening inside of him right now. It kept tugging at the back of his mind, insistent, nagging, needling him with white hot bursts of fear and anxiety. Was he really going to stay here and let some strange doctor come and poke and prod him? Could he risk leaving now? He thought that for a moment he might and that yes, he should leave. Fuck this mess and fuck Max Mullen and his fucking issues.

Saving my life didn't entitle anyone to flip the fuck out and assume shit about me, Brian thought, Elijah's face flashing into his mind and the way that entitle fucking redneck cop made that snarky remark. Emerging back into the apartment itself, walking through the kitchen, he glanced sideways at it.

It wasn't filthy but it was chaotic: dishes in the sink from at least one night's dinner. Maybe two. Beer bottles and more ashtrays full of expended bullets. Frowning at the mess, not caring how similar he was himself at times, Brian arrived back into the living room, the afternoon sun now long gone as the city went from glowing to shining in its nocturnal luminance. Through the glass, the buildings sparkled like space diamonds and cars honked loudly. Making his way back over to his duffle bag, he yanked the zipper down hard.

It stuck half way down, lodging firmly in place, defying his mood with its metal toothed obstinacy.

He yanked it again. It held solid, refusing to budge, daring him to try again with its golden mouth, its tongue held firmly between his fingers.

"Oh for fucks sake, come on!"

Brian yanked it again and this time, he yanked it harder. Much harder.

RRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.

With the tortured sound of splitting fabric and torn metal, the zipper, track and zipper head itself tore away from the bag, splitting it open the bag like a potato chip bag, the force so great its sent the bag's contents flying. Clothes dumped onto the floor, his vest and uniform, his phone with skittering across the floor with a worrying clacking sound.

"GODDAMN IT!" Brian snarled, actually expressing his anger for the first time, and then he stopped, seeing the damage he had done unwittingly. The sight of the mutilated bag brought him up cold. It had fallen to the floor in the process, and it laid there, wide open, strands of fabric dangling like so much shredded flesh from some poor pitiful animal. His clothes, his phone all of it, like his life, was upside down and in chaos.

The zipper. The metal itself was torn. Like tissue paper.

Frowning and those cold needles of fear begining to spike up through his stoamch again, he quickly ran back down to the garage, walking fast, opened the door to the garage and looked behind it to the brick wall. He had heard the door hit on his way up the stairs but was so lost in his own emotions that he had paid it no mind. Now, seeing it, he felt his heart climb a bit higher into his throat. The tough grey cinder block wall wasn't just cracked.

It was punched all the way through; the black gaping crater the rough size and shape of the door handle stared at him accusingly as he gingerly ran a finger along the rough shattered edges, looking from the hole to it the solid steel door handle which, to his chagrin, he noted, was badly dented.

Looking down, Brian looked at his hands.

They looked like normal human hands. The same ones he had always had. Hell even the cut from the sink repair he had done at his apartment since the scum filth land lord wouldn't do it was still there--

No.

He looked again. It should have been there, a long red streak from his first knuckle on his right hand to just above the thumb. His hand had slipped on the pliers and the thin edge of the bolt he was turning scraped him properly.

The cut, in all its healing over scabbed glory, was gone. It looked like it had never been there, not even a ghost of its former self.

First the gashing stab wound was gone.

Then his eyes changed color.

Now he was breaking things and not even realizing it.

All the anger and grief in him for the time being took a very solid back seat and buckled down, put in its place by the very real and very terrifying realization that he was not going to be able to ignore what was happening to him and he needed answers. He could grieve later; he could rage later, he could live later but right now, he needed to calm the hell down, even if that meant putting up with Max and his bullshit, or any other bullshit. Until I figure out what the hell is going on, life is going on hold for a bit, Brian thought and silently, he backed away from the crater in the wall and slowly and methodically headed back up stairs to the apartment where he picked up the mess he had made by destroying his bag with the forced calm and objectiveness as a surgeon working on a cardiac patient.

Kicking it into a corner, his phone tossed into the sagging bag forgotten, he came back the couch and sat down, taking a few deep breaths, forcing himself to relax using the techniques that Simmons had trained him in_. Focus. Relaxation. Logic. Those are the keys to not getting yourself or anyone else killed_. Simmons words barked through Brian's brain in the same drill sergeant like tone Simmons took during their sparring sessions at the gym. Unaware of how long he had been sitting there, Brian heard a sound that he recognized: The crunching squeak of the garage door opening, the roar of an engine and the silence as it was turned off. The click of the garage door shutting and the THUNK of the truck door being closed.

Had I been able to hear those sounds before from this far away? I don't know this damn headache is hard to think through, he thought. The traffic outside sounded louder than it did before, like someone had slowly increased the volume. He felt his stomach swirl again as he heard the door to the apartment access stairwell open and heard Max's walk come up them and into the hallway.

There was someone with him, Brian noted, hearing a second set of footsteps; these were lighter, softer.

A moment later, the kitchen door's knob turned and Max came into view as the door swung gently open and Brian saw a look on his face that was the bastard child of frustration and resignation. Max's sharp blue eyes picked out Brian on the couch and he glared at Brian.

"Broke my door handle." He commented simply, his gruff voice sharp in the silence.

Brian could say nothing in return. He felt like the words were stuck in his throat. Yes, he had broken it.

Max moved into the kitchen properly and stood behind the island, tossing his truck keys onto the countertop. They clattered loudly, jangling as they bounced a bit, coming to rest beside one of the ubiquitous ashtrays. He had pulled on a white tank top from somewhere, and he still wore his same work jeans with the grease stains. He had also managed to find a pair of work boots. Presumably, they were in the truck, Brian thought absently. Brian felt his face flush hot as Max's eyes moved around the room, obviously making sure Brian didn't touch anything and making no moves to hide it as they settled on Brian's ripped apart bag.

"Wasn't the only thing I see," Max said, moving into the living room, and plopped himself down into the recliner, adjusting himself as he did so, tugging the waistband of his jeans afterward. His tail obediently sat still, though its tip, hanging near his booted ankle twitched.

The new figure had walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind her.

"I went and picked up the doctor I told you about. Glad I did while I still have a place and a shop to come back to." Max snorted. Jerking his head towards the kitchen at the same time as the new person walked into the full light of the living room, Brian felt his eyes go wide.

The woman herself was a shifter or a full generation. At this point, Brian wasn't sure if shifters preferred their wolf forms to their human forms or if full generation shifters that couldn't turn were more common than Max told him. She was resplendent, just over five foot ten, with her small pointed ears topping her head much like some Japanese kitsune spirit. Her fur was arctic white, so white it nearly glimmered in the lights from the lamps in the living room. She was dressed in a red shirt with khaki colored long sleeved over shirt over it, unbuttoned and loose. Her pants were dark navy jeans on top of dark blue sneakers. Over her right shoulder, she carried a large canvas messenger bag that looked like it held a computer and a few other items causing it to bulge unusually. Her straight chestnut hair hung behind her out of her face in a ponytail.

Brian was most drawn to her eyes.

Her translucent violet colored eyes that turned the lamp light into supernovas.

_She has Liz Taylor's eyes...._he thought a split second before he realized whom he was looking at.

"Doctor Raven Jones, geneticist..." Max said flatly, not yet seeing the look of surprise on Brian's face.

Shock and surprise equally crossed the female shifter's face as she stood stock still, her eyes wide and her mouth slack jawed.

"Oh my God...its you...." she said breathlessly, her soft British accent lacing her hushed tone of astonishment.

Max frowned. Looking quickly from her to Brian, he looked back at Dr. Jones.

"You two know each other?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, we do. But," she said, coming forward to stand on the other side of the coffee table, a mere three feet from a very caught off guard Brian. "He might recognize me better the way he knows me best."

Without another word and without moving or making any motion at all, Dr. Jones' body seemed to ripple slightly. A gentle wave rode from the tips of her ears to the tips of her fingers. There was no screaming, no horrendous body horror as her form seemed to simply phase smoothly, transitioning in a matter of seconds. Her face shrunk, her tail receded, and her fur seemed to go back inside itself, sinking into her smooth creamy skin until it vanished.

A moment later, there stood a very human looking Dr. Raven Jones, a face Brian had seem and worked with over two years and...

He had no idea. She had never said a word.

"I can't believe it's you," she said as a tiny grin perked up the side of her mouth on her heart shaped face. "Of course it would be you. Who else would it be?"

Chapter 3

"Of all the people, I would have never honestly expected you." Dr. Jones said as she moved around the coffee table, gracefully managing to set her messenger bag and herself down on the opposite end of the couch from Brian who felt like these last two nights kept getting stranger and stranger. Max said nothing as Brian didn't know what to even begin to say. Jones took the decision out of his hands. At work, Brian remembered her for being the take charge type and here it was no different. She was full of the same energy she brought to the hospital and perhaps even more so now.

She looked up at Max.

"You're the one who bit him?"

Max had a sheepish look slink across his face before like all emotion he kicked it away. "Yeah."

The look on Raven's face changed immediately, from shock to a scowl.

"Are you insane?"

Max's ears pricked up. "Excuse me?" was his quiet and instantly on edge reply. Good God, the man has no in-between; he's either trying to act like he doesn't care or he's instantly on edge and ready to fight. What the hell is his issue? Brian thought to himself seeing Max's face darken as his dark eyebrows knitted together.

Jones didn't even have to respond to his surprised and guilty outburst.

Max kept going, the fur on the back of his neck standing up slightly.

"What the hell was I supposed to do? He wasn't going to survive. I didn't know what else to try for fucks sake. I gambled!"

"With his life!" Jones shot back. "When you told me that you had picked up someone who was bit by a shifter and wasn't dead, I didn't know what to think. You never told me it was one of my employees and that it was you who bit him!"

Snarling, Max help up his hands, palms open, his teeth glinted in the light.

"I didn't know who he was! Jesus Christ, Raven."

"You could have told me it was you who bit him!" she snapped back.

"And that makes a difference how? No one's ever survived a bite that we know of. All I knew was that there were stories about people who did, people who healed. I did what I thought I had to do to save his life!" Mullen growled, getting up out of his chair and gruffly moving into the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge, the cold light spilling all over his body as he snatched a cold beer bottle out of the fridge.

Raven scowled harder. "Would you stop that? You can't get drunk off that and you know it. Sit down and talk to me. You always do this."

Brian looked for an opportunity to interject that he was in fact, still here and didn't appreciate being spoken about in the third person but the look on both of his new companions face's shut him down.

Snarling a curse, Max threw the bottle into the trash hard enough to shatter it. He stormed back across the room and landed like a tornado back in his chair, his arms falling heavily between his thighs as he sat forward.

"Happy now?"

"Quite." Jones retorted.

"Now then," she said, sighing. "Sorry about that." She apologized, looking back at Brian sincerely. "I'm afraid I don't know you as well as I would like and I'm sorry you're in this mess. We all thought you were heading to go check on your mom for a few days."

Brian found his voice again as concern lined his face, the corner of his mouth picking up as he spoke. "You aren't going to tell anyone are you? I can't handle much more shit right now."

Jones shook her head, her chestnut hair falling over her shoulder.

"No. I'm not. I'll help you as best as I know how; I can't tell you how rare what's happened here is. There isn't a medical case on record so anything we come up with together here will be tenuous at best. You understand that?" she said, turning fully to face Brian, her hands in her lap as she deliberately went out of her way to avoid looking at Max who had gotten up again and was making for the kitchen door. Before anyone could stop him he was gone.

Watching him go, Brian felt his curiosity and admittedly his irritation with his savior spike to unbearable levels.

"Just what the hell is his story anyway?" he asked, looking to Jones for illumination. She lost her professional scowl for a moment, and in that moment, her eyes softened and her expression melted like winter snow in the summer sun. She was suddenly distant, her gaze a million miles away. When she replied, her voice was quiet. Brian could sense her mind whirling at a million miles an hour.

"Max...Max has had a hard time in life. He's got a lot of damage and he deals with it the best way he can which is not at all, if I'm to be blunt. He goes out every night and gets himself beaten to a bloody pulp. I've treated his more serious injuries but he won't stop. Says he has to do it because no one else will but I know that's not true."

"Then what's the truth?" Brian asked.

"The truth is that he is punishing himself for something he can never hope to forgive himself for. " Sighing, she turned her attention to Brian again, fully this time.

"Now then, I'd like to ask you some questions and give you a quick look over. I brought some equipment to do some quick tests but it will take a little while for the results to come through. You aren't going anywhere, right?"

Shaking his head, Brian replied. "Nope. On top of all this, I've got a gang out to kill me thanks to a shitty cop who's on the take with the 86ers."

Realization shot across her violet eyes. "You mean that drug addled lunatic in the emergency room was one of them?"

"Yeah. Turns out he was one of their biggest dealers. Big cash cow. The cop that took mine and Elijah's information sold us out to them not long after they left." Brian said, a stabbing reminder of his dead friend blasting through his mind like a locamotive.

"Elijah....you mean Mr. Connors, the guard who was with you last night ....Oh dear. I'm sorry. Were you close? We heard about him earlier today." She said, her tone shifting instantly into genuine sympathy. She was always good with her patients and her bona fide heart was one reason why.

Were we close? Brian thought, and it took him a moment to answer and when he did, he wasn't sure if he didn't show more than he intended as his eyes tried to sting again. He quickly scratched his inner eye next to his nose, pretending his nose was irritated.

"We were good friends." He said taking a deep breath. "So, what do we do? Where do we start, doc?" he asked, eager to think about anything else. Jones, sensing his unease perhaps, shuffled as she picked up her messenger back and began opening it. She looked at the coffee table and its collection of bottles, scowling at the ashtray full of bloody bullets especially hard. Setting her bag aside for a moment, she cleared off the table as much as she could, shoving the detritus of Max's life aside. Satisfied she had enough room, she went back to her bag, pulled out a black laptop computer, opened its shell and powered it on. A few seconds later, a bright blue log-on screen glowed brilliantly. Next to that, she sat up a series of blood collection vials, a marker and a set of IV tubes and sterile needles. She finished by setting up a special piece of equipment that hooked into the USB port on the laptop that looked like it was meant to hold a liquid. Brian noticed the label on it read Madison Genetics Labs. Snapping on a pair of white sterile gloves, she took a breath and sat up straight, looking Brian in the eye.

"First rule, call me Raven. I hear enough of Doctor Jones at work. Secondly, tell me what happened, from start to finish. What led up to Max biting you and what happened after?"

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Brian focused his memory, the images clashing terribly and in a few moments, he had told her the short and bloody narrative. She listened attentively, but sharply. He could tell she was noting everything mentally.

"So the wound...would you mind if I saw the site?" she asked.

Shrugging, Brian pulled his shirt up as he leaned back a bit to give her some room. He pointed with right hand while his left held his shirt up.

"Right there, from my belly button up to my kidneys. It actually went up to my chest I think; I can't remember too much from last night." He said, tracing his finger up his abdomen.

Raven leaned in, her eyes focused intently, following where he had indicated with her own gloved hands. As her fingers moved through the hair on his stomach and chest it tickled and he jumped.

"Sorry." She said and went back to her work.

"Its okay." He said and a moment later she sat back, a confused frown on her face.

"There's not a single external sign that you were even cut. I felt some residual scar tissue under your skin as I moved but even that seems to be fading; how's your head? You said you got hit pretty hard there." She asked.

Brian lowered his shirt.

"Got a headache. Its been getting worse the last few hours. Nothing there anymore either." He shrugged. She nodded. "With head injuries like that, I would have expected you to have bruising, edema maybe even..." she tailed off. "That is very unusual, even...even for someone like myself and Mr. Mullen. Wounds heal fast but not that fast."

"One thing that I noticed are my eyes." He said, adjusting his shirt tail.

"What about them?" she asked as she looked over her instruments on the table, moving to the keyboard on the computer, her fingers moving fast. The screen shifted to a program Brian didn't recognize but it too had a header on it labeled with Madison Genetics. Some type of analytical program, he thought.

"Well, I used to have brownish eyes, a sort of amber color. My mom always said it was unusual. Earlier, I was in the shower and I noticed that they had changed color. Now, instead of amber, they're both bright green."

"Really?" Raven said, intrigued as she swung back to him. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen light. Flicking it on, she scooted closer to him and moved it into each of his eyes. The light was blinding at so close a range and the headache that thudded in his temples spiked again. He groaned a bit but muffled it and tried to sit still and not blink.

Raven's eyes widened at what she saw. He was right; whatever color his eyes once were, they were both a stunning shade of green, like old fashioned green glass bottles with sun light shining through them. His sclera were normal, and so were was his pupils until she moved the light a certain way. A flash of green gold with a hint of red flashed in his pupils as the light struck them.

Eye shine.

She moved closer and the shadow of her body blocked the light from lamps, throwing his face into darkness. A split second later, she carefully swallowed a small gasp of shock.

His irises flared to life in that brief moment, not just being a bright green but for that fraction of a moment when they were in shadow, they actually glowed a bright neon green.

Brian shook his head, grimacing. She pulled back immediately. She noticed he was rubbing his closed eyes and when he opened them again, he blinked owlishly before settling slowly back down to normal. She noticed his eyes were no longer glowing.

"What happened?" she asked, not saying anything about the glow she had witnessed, not yet. She needed more evidence.

"When you were up close like that and it got darker something about my vision was...off. I don't know how else to explain. Colors were funky looking."

"How so?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just made me dizzy. I'm fine now."

Nodding, she picked up the rubber band tourniquet and the needles and IV equipment.

"I'm going to need a few blood samples if that's okay. Do you have any shifters in your family?" She asked him gently looking at him for permission.

"Not that I know of; I'm not a fan of needles but what the hell. What's it for?" he asked extending his left arm. She took his arm in her lap gently and looked carefully, searching for the perfect vein. Running her fingers along his skin lightly, she expertly found the branching veins in the crook of his elbow. Moving quickly, she tied the tourniquet tightly.

"Make a tight fist for me and move your arm a bit." She instructed while she opened the needles. Brian did as he was told, bunching his fist tightly, turning his knuckles white. The muscles in his forearm flexed visibly and his bicep swelled as he moved his arm up and down a few times. Setting it back down, he offered it for sacrifice.

"Right then. Small stick." Raven said and moved in. Before he knew it, the sharp edge of the hypodermic butterfly needle had slid into his skin, gliding effortlessly between the layers of his skin, the surgical steel biting so easily it barely felt the smallest of pricks.

Watching her work, Brian felt a bit of the tension that had been his constant companion in his inner universe ease a bit. Quickly, she moved a collection tube up and slid it into place with a click. He watched a short spurt of his own dark red blood filled the clear canister. She filled two more tubes and then removed the tourniquet. Placing a sterile gauze over the insertion sight she withdrew the needles and a moment later she didn't both to put a bandage on it and Brian saw why.

Where normally the site would have bled for a bit, there was no indication she had ever had a needle in his flesh at all; it had already healed. Looking up at her, Brian swallowed back his questions knowing they were both learning as they went. She flipped up the safety cover on the needle and shoved the sharps into an empty beer bottle. She labeled the vials and from one of them, with a new needle, she drew out a small sample of his blood. Taking the syringe over to the USB dongle with the strange white strip, she carefully pushed out a few drops of his blood onto it. A red light lit up and the hard drive whirred as she tapped a few keys.

Realizing the computer was analyzing his sample like a diabetic checked their blood sugar, Brian sat back and Raven went about picking up her tools and securing them back into her bag along with the vials. While they waited on the computer to test the sample she explained to him.

" Last year, Madison Genetics released a new test protocol and testing dongle for nurses and doctors to use to test children for the prescience of shifter genetics, specifically the proteins lycanoxytein and oranozine. Both are unique to shifters, full generation or not and its presence in the blood can confirm whether or not a person is in possession of a shifter gene and whether or not it's active. If a normal person had either in his system, they'd die within 24 hours. For full generations like Max, its present but the levels are skewed, meaning the gene is broken. That's why Max can't assume a human form. My gene is active and working which is why I can shift back and forth."

"How long will it take to run?" Brian asked, suddenly and unusually feeling that tension again. His headache had gotten worse and now his joints were beginning to ache. He rubbed his arms unconsciously. He felt like he should say something to Raven but the computer screen held his attention.

On, the progress bar moved closer and closer to 100% completion.

He watched it tick down and with every tick, he felt the ache in his joints get worse.

30 percent.

_ 45 percent._

_ 80 percent._

He felt his heart leap like a fish out of water as the screen flashed and the computer made a sharp electronic beeping noise. Using her finger on the track pad, Raven clicked through the screens and a new page come up. Covered in numbers, charts and there, in the middle, was a single large line graph, showing the make up the chemistry active in his blood.

The lines, with their cold heartless green spikes seemed to taunt him.

"What does it say?" he asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

For a moment, Raven didn't say a word but sat wordlessly studying the screen, double checking the results, making sure she wasn't misreading them.

At last she sat back, her face showing her astonishment as she turned and looked at Brian, deadly seriousness lining her beautiful features.

"Mr. MacGregor," she started and then stopped herself. "Brian. Are you sure you have no shifters in your family? None at all?"

"No. There aren't any."

"Somehow, and I don't know how, and I don't know how else to tell you this, Brian, but you have the levels in your blood of a shifter showing that you are carrying an active gene."

Swallowing hard, Brian felt his skin flush with that cold fear that had been with him all day. He had thought it was gone but this time it was back and it wasn't going anywhere. His stomach threatened to betray him and he found that his jaw didn't want to move when he went to speak.

Forcing him to get the words out, they came out as a whisper.

"What does that mean?"

Raven closed the computer and sat back with him in silent shock as she looked him dead in the eyes and didn't lie or pad anything to make it easier for him.

"Honestly, I don't know. The levels in your blood are astronomically high. Usually we see those levels in teenagers who are about to undergo their first change. It usually hits during early to mid puberty with shifters. If what I suspect is happening is happening," she said equally quiet, "then the same will be happening to you. I don't know when. But it will. It's only a matter of time. With everything I've seen so far, your eyes, the headaches, the rapid healing, it will probably be sooner than later. There's nothing anyone can do. I'm sorry."

She might as well have given him a death diagnoses and in way, he supposed darkly, she had. He wasn't dying; only his humanity. It was being taken from him. He was helpless to stop it. The one thing he hated more than anything else in the world was feeling helpless. It was one reason why he couldn't stand to watch news much anymore. It was what landed him in anger management as a teenager after his dad had died.

"Will it hurt?" he asked disconnectedly, staring into the space of the apartment, his eyes wandering over to the large windows. Outside, the night was in full swing, the sky jet black, and the stars were not visible from the light pollution from thousands of light-bulbs and street lamps. A car horn blew somewhere and someone shouted at someone. There, hanging high in the darkness, refusing to give away its spot in the night's stage hung the moon, swollen and full, her baleful silver light raining down, the dark craters on her surface feeling like eyes watching him.

"I don't know....It doesn't hurt people like me." Raven answered, her somber tone cutting him more than the truth did. She reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder.

"You don't have to go through this alone. It's not just me; Max is here too, even if he is being a pain in the ass. One thing he won't do is abandon you. It's not in his nature. There are others who help people like us. They can--" she started but Brian shut her voice out. He stood up suddenly, unable to stand the aching that had spread to his legs and knees. Everything that he thought was stable again was collapsing rapidly. He felt the control he imagined he had regained after the shower slipping away faster than he could grasp.

"I need to go. I need to walk. I need something. I can't sit here." Brian said and he moved off towards the kitchen door. He heard Raven stand up behind him and felt her try to catch up to him but his pace was too strong, his legs too long.

"Brain wait. Please! Stay here. We can---"

The closing of the kitchen door cut her off as it clicked closed. His feet moved automatically as he practically jumped the stairs, slamming open the garage door and stepping into the work place. He need motion, action, blood flowing. If he could get that, he would feel better, could get some perspective. He couldn't just sit here and wait. The gangs were forgotten as he reached the door that led outside, out of the garage.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

Max's gruff voice came out of shadows behind him and Brian saw him stand up as he passed, the taller shifter's ears perking forward, his tail lashing.

"Fuck you." Brian snarled, his voice harsher than he had ever experienced, turning into almost a growl as he finally let his contempt for Max's behavior off its leash. He saw Max's eyes gleam yellow in the shadows of the work space and didn't care.

Shoving the door open roughly, Brian stepped out into the night and with a slam of the door was gone.

*****

Max stood alone in the garage in front of his work out bench. He had left this side of the garage clear and closed it off from the rest of the work area. Over the course of the six years he had lived here, he had turned it into an effective gym. The weight bench, the bar bells and of course, his punching bag with it dark black synthetic rubber casing took up the entire space. His work out bench had what he considered essential to his workout routine: A case of water in sixteen ounce bottles and his shock tape. A cracked square mirror sat on the table too, the spider webbed glass reflecting his broken image back to himself. The shock tape itself was simply cloth gauze and he stood defiantly staring back at the image in the mirror. He hated the face he saw; in it, he saw nothing but the failure he could never repair. Every night he stepped out into the city's underbelly beating the fucking hell out of the low lives and anyone else dumb enough to bother him or anyone who was unlucky enough to be targeted by the pushers, the hustlers and the gang members.

He had picked out more bullets than he could count. There was something in the pain, he thought; feeling the scorching hot lead slam into his muscles, burning away the fur and skin, lodging against bone. It reminded him that he could still feel something through the miasmic existence he had led for most of his adult life. He would dig out the spent crushed metal rounds, dumping them into the ashtrays, not even worrying about cleaning the wounds since they would be gone in a matter of hours without even so much as a scar. The only scars on his body that never quite went away were the four slashes on his snout and he had no idea why they wouldn't heal fully. They were barely visible unless the light was harsh. He had them ever since that night back home as a teen, a visible reminder of his failure.

He should be out there, tonight, but he wasn't.

For the first time since could remember, Max himself was feeling conflicted. This business with Brian was driving him crazy and yet it had only been twenty four hours. Hell, not even that long. Normally, Max thought as he unrolled strips of the gauze and began to run them around his hands and wrists; he wouldn't let anyone get to him. That was his policy. He simply refused to feel anything more than each night the scorching bullets and simple satisfaction that he must rinse and repeat, every night until he atoned for ...them.

But something about Brian was maddening! On one hand, he felt utterly annoyed with the fucker and wanted to beat his face in for being a completely ungrateful asshole. On the other, he felt utterly responsible for Brian's situation and it was that nagging sense of obligation, of blame perhaps that Max couldn't shake. There was something different about Brian MacGregor, different from all the people he helped every night. Those people were faceless, nameless, he thought. This time, there was a face and a name, a story. This time there was more.

Of course there were people in his life other than Brian. Raven, for one. Max had known her since he first came to Dawson City. She was one Draco Riley's group. She had been kind to him but firm. She told him what she thought and was a certifiable medical genius. Draco had helped her get her position at the hospital. There were a few times over the years that Max had gotten himself more seriously injured and Raven had been there, always. She stitched him up while he healed and made sure he woke up to see the sun the next day. She was like a sister to him.

Sister.

That word brought uncomfortable images, images that made an unusually sharp pang of...

(sorrow)

...something shot through Max's chest and crawl up into his throat and he hated it. He grunted as he yanked the gauze taught on his left hand. The wrappings wrapped around his palms and went up his wrists, stopping just short of the middle of his thick fur covered forearm. His knuckles were wrapped as well. Moving on, he began wrapping his right hand. The task gave him a bit of trouble since he was right handed and it took a bit longer as he made the over and unders of the wrapping, adding the layers.

He had people in his life but each of them never got close; not for lack of trying he just felt that it was better to keep some distance. It was easier than caring, easier than feeling, though he did care and he knew it very well, even if he refused to acknowledge it. With a final yank, he tied off the wrappings and flexed his hands; the gauze stretched and moved but did not come loose. Turning around he moved across the room to his punching bag, the door that Brian had stormed out of sticking out in his vision like a neon sign. He felt another unexpected feeling: a sudden desperate ache that nearly drove him to go out after Brian. It came from deep inside himself, deeper than Max had allowed himself to look in a long time. He didn't like what he saw there. What was there was the truth and the truth simply hurt too much and his healing couldn't ease the pain or the fleeting shadows that danced there like gibbering ghouls. Shaking his head, he turned to his bag and took up a position in front of it, his knees bent, his weight balanced on his ankles, hands up, left and right, fists clenched, protecting his face.

His blue eyes flared amber gold in the shadows of the garage and his right arm became a lethal piston, striking out cobra fast.

WHACK!

The sound of fist striking the bag was loud and therapeutic. The bag jolted as a fine white dust came out of it. It hung in the air even as Max brought his left hand up, striking once, twice three times, switching between his right and left so fast that the bag was barely still.

WHACK!

In his mind images danced.

Brian laying in the alley, bleeding out, his skin pale as death.

WHACK!

Max's mother lay in her own blood as the fur on his young hands stained deeply as he held her. She had reached up to stroke his face as he begged her not to leave. The house around them burned.

WHACK WHACK WHACK!

_ _ "I love you, Max...run....now...get out...far away..."

Over a decade later her voice was still resonating in his ears. He felt his eyes sting and he snarled and hit the bag so hard the metal arm that was bolted into the brick wall shuddered, throwing brick dust up into the air. The picture of his family, his mother, his father and his younger self glared balefully at him, the torn photo catching the light of the over head fluorescents. He looked into his mother's eyes and saw her love there, her happiness; he saw his father's strong noble face and realized that he had let them die.

Brian was out there right now, and you are letting it happen again. Someone in your life just doesn't stand a chance, huh? You couldn't save them and now you are going to lose again, old buddy. Wait and see.

His snarl turned into a full-fledged growl as he swung a right hook so hard into the bag the fabric itself ripped loudly, the sound echoing in the silence of the garage and yet the blows didn't stop. Max rained down blow after blow, each one landing with jackhammer like force; the wall hook that held the bag up was trembling so badly now that the brick around its bolts was cracking.

The old voice in his head kept at it.

You aren't going after him. Just going to abandon him like you did your mom and dad. Pathetic.

Max hit the bag harder than ever and the chain that held it creaked alarmingly.

He's going to burn, too. He's going to die and it will be your fault. You know it. Might as well just go back upstairs and grab a beer, try to drown yourself and you can't even do that, can you? Can't even numb a thing. No wonder your parents are dead.

With a roar, Max hit the bag again with a violent right swing that finally was more than the bag and bar could handle. With a scream of tortured metal, the chain that suspended the bag snapped, shearing off. Pieces of metal flew into the air and the bag came crashing down into the corner of the garage, thrown there by the sheer force of the blow. The shards of metal that flew into the air flew past Max's face, and one of them, a small piece of the shrapnel, sliced into his cheek, just under his eye. Cursing he put his hand up to his face. The cut was shallow and would be gone in moments; however in that instant it gave him the unsettling appearance that he was crying tears of blood.

Wiping it away, he felt the scrape seal up a moment later. Looking at the damage he had done he frowned and kicked himself mentally.

"Goddamn it..." he sighed.

The bag would need to be replaced, he noticed, his eyes seeing the craters he had punched through it to the fabric beneath. Shaking his head in frustration, he turned to go back upstairs. Being down here alone was no good and though he wanted nothing more than that solitude, he found that for some reason, tonight, it was painful, heavy even. It was choking him.

Mounting the stairs he walked back into the apartment, adjusting his white tank top as he did; it had become twisted. He brushed the bag's dust off of his hands on his jeans legs and as he crossed into the kitchen, he saw Raven hunched over her laptop, the screen's blue glow casting an azure haze onto her gentle features. The warm lights in the apartment were a far cry from the cold flickering of the garage and he felt his body try and turn to the fridge, seeking the familiar feel of the cold brown glass bottles.

He forced himself away from it, the thought making him nauseous.

Entering the living room he saw Raven's face more clearly. Her eyes were focused intently and her face wasn't neutral at all but rather crossed with the dark shadow of worry. He had seen that look only a few times and knew what it meant.

Something was bothering her.

"Hey, you ok?" he asked quietly, most of his normal gruff tone gone, though his voice still retained that deep almost raspy sound.

She looked up at him and he saw that her eyes were more than worried. Her pupils were dilated. The corners of her mouth were tight as her eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm fine but Brian isn't."

Max sighed and for the first time yet he tried to let down his walls and failed miserably. "Well yeah...we kind of guessed that. We know what's happening....it is happening, right?"

Raven shook her head.

"You don't understand, Max. I've been analyzing his blood samples and its worse than I thought. He is turning into a shifter but its not going to be a gentle walk in the park, not like some of us. His blood chemistry is showing a huge amount of hormones; testosterone, serotonin and cortisol. These levels are far above anything I've ever seen."

Max stood before her, his thick arms crossed. The puzzlement on his face answered her question about how much he understood before he even spoke.

"What does that mean?"

She shut her computer and stood up, facing him. "Max it means Brian is a walking time bomb. I don't know when but judging by these levels, its going to happen soon. He's going to change for the first time and he's going to be a locomotive. He's not going to know what he's doing. Where is he?"

Max felt a lead weight drop into his stomach. Fuck.

"He's not here; he walked out about twenty minutes ago."

Max saw the fear shoot up into her face and the anger. Anger at him.

"And you just let him walk out? Why?" she snapped.

"We can't make him stay here, Jesus Raven I didn't know!"

"None of us knows what's going on right now with him, Max. We've got to get him. He left on foot?" she snapped back, grabbing her thin jacket. M

"Yeah. He charged out--"

"Means he can't have gotten far. I've got something here that I thought we might need but was hoping we wouldn't. I'm still holding out hope. I was afraid that hormonal changes would be extreme but I didn't see the levels at first when I ran his blood." Raven told him as she reached into her bag, drew out a fresh syringe, ripped the packaging off and in her free left hand, brought out a small vial. "I didn't know what to expect so I brought tranquilizers just in case and since most tranquilizers burn up too fast in shifter systems, I had to bring the only thing that I know would work in case he needed sedation."

Max caught a glimpse of the label on the vial as she drew out a large amount of the liquid into the syringe. It was thick milky substance.

The letters stood out in harsh black relief.

Carfentanil.

"Where did you get that? That's a schedule two drug...." he asked as she moved past him, sliding the syringe into her pocket. "If we get caught with it..." he said going after her.

"Its what happens if we don't get to Brian in time to use it that I'm worried about. I can fight charges; I can't raise the dead." She called back as she descended the stairs. Cursing, Max shook his head and took off after her. She jumped into the passenger seat of his truck and he jumped up into the driver's seat, snatching his keys off of the tool bench.

The engine roared to life as the garage door opened and they pulled out into the night.

****

Brian had no idea how long he had walked; he didn't have a watch. All he knew was he needed to move, to be in motion, the almost frenzied kinetic energy that was growing in his brain and nerves needed a release and he found it as his booted feet slapped the hot pavement. The warmth was born first in his legs; it started deep in his bones and wound its way up, hitting his thighs, spreading into his groin, his abdomen and now it was reaching his arms and hands. It was a heat unlike anything he had ever experienced; not painful but not comfortable. It was a heat born of fevers and night sweats yet he wasn't sweating. He knew his skin was on fire though; he could feel the radiant heat coming through his shirt. It was as if his bones were starting to burn.

Around him, the city at night was still kicking, even stronger than it normally did. It wasn't yet late enough for the city to be in that nascent death like stillness that it was the other night but instead it was rousing itself to life like an old dragon. Cars drove by, their motors loud and grating on his ears as their drivers snarled insults at each other. The streetlights cast pools of orange flickering light every forty feet or so, the ones that worked anyway. The sky overhead was a sheet of impenetrable darkness; not that the stars were visible in the city at night most of the time but Brian could tell the clouds above were thunderheads, threatening to unleash even more of nature's fury than the storm last night. He passed a few late night stores, a pharmacy, a shanty that passed for a bar with bricks so dirty that it had to be at least a hundred years old and finally he stepped into an intersection that led to an open plaza. Or it used to be a plaza. Now it was just another one of the twenty or so run down park areas that the city added years prior to his birth in order to gentrify some of the less classy neighborhoods. Four desolate looking benches in bad need of a paint job stood sentinel in the dark and on one of them, a hobo slept under his newspapers.

The streets went around the park yet none of the cars dared enter it; it was night after all and the human predators preyed on the foolish. Car jackings weren't uncommon but other than its resident hobo, the small park was deserted. The only other structures in the park were the bathrooms and the center fountain. At one point, the fountain had lights but they were rendered dark long ago by time and a city that couldn't afford to spare the repairs for the area; it had more important areas to maintain, like Fifth Avenue and the downtown high rise apartments.

Brian stopped at the crosswalk, looked at the park again and looked ahead; ahead was a crowd of people, partiers. It didn't matter to them that it wasn't the weekend. Some people didn't need a reason to get sauced. Their voices were loud and carried in the warm night breeze. He didn't want to be near people; he wanted to be alone.

You aren't alone; you had Max. At least he tried to be there for whatever reason, his mind sniped at him. A twinge of guilt pricked at his conscience but he murdered it silently. He's also the reason this shit is happening to me, Brian reminded his conscience harshly. Brian made up his mind quickly (later he thought it was probably a stupid fucking idea) and as the crosswalk light winked green with a numbers counting down from 10, he moved quickly into the park, wincing as the high beams of the car he passed in front of at the light nearly blinded him. Blinking, he saw stars for a few seconds and slowly his vision returned to normal. Stalking across the dead grass, he made for one of the benches. Finding a spot on a bench as far as he could get from the hobo (which wasn't far), he sat down hard. The metal of the bench bled up through the seat of his jeans, and he could feel it merge with the inner heat coming from his body in increasing waves. As he sat, he found his mind trying to wander, to do anything but think about how he felt physically which was rapidly getting worse.

First, why did he even leave Max's apartment? He did not know what he sought or why he left; only that he had to run, to run and maybe, if he ran long enough, he could outrun the creature inside him and get away from the fate that waited for him at any moment. Did he really prefer those thugs probably happening on him again? He was as good as a wanted man among them.

Then there was Raven; maybe she could have helped some way some how...

Way to go, Brian, you've done it again, he chided himself. Let your temper get in the way, just like you used to after...

After dad died, he finished the thought.

Brian's father had been a police officer. One of the best on the force and the year Brian had turned fifteen, his dad had been up for promotion to detective. His father had just helped bring down one Carsonville's biggest drug cartels after a grueling two year investigation. He had seen precious little of his dad that year and had tried to understand that he was doing good, helping people by keeping crack dealers and meth fiends away from kids like himself but it hadn't really made him feel better when late at night, his mom and himself sat at an empty dinner table. Each time he ran late, Brian remembered his mother would try to act as normal as she could but he would always see her casting long glances in the stretched silences those evenings at the phone she kept by her chair. Waiting, he remembered, on the phone to ring and for someone to tell them that the worst had happened. It never rang. Late at night, Brian would hear his father come home late, being as quiet as he could. Brian himself was supposed to be in bed according to his mother but he found it harder and harder to sleep as that year had went on.

Brian and his father were close, hell his whole family had been, knowing that each day could be the last they had and they made the most of their modest life in that apartment back in Carsonsville. It wasn't easy; but it was home. The longer that year had gone on, the harder it became for Brian to reconcile the long absences of his father with his acceptance of the very same with his understanding that it was something that could not be helped. There were arguments between himself and his mother near the end; why did his father have to choose his work over them? He didn't have to be a cop. That was his choice, his fault.

The wanting for his father was slowly subsumed by the shallow anger of adolescence. Being at that age when adult thoughts and emotions flowed easily but were understood far less, Brian gave into his anger rather than deal with want of lack his father more and more. It had been easier, had hurt less.

It was one night after a particularly bitter argument that Brian had went to his room and slammed his door in his mother's face, sitting at his desk in his room overlooking the woods behind the apartment complex and thinking red angry thoughts when he lost track of time. He could still remember the hurt look on his mother's face; she hadn't even been angry with him, more desperate for him to understand. That night, his father had not called and he was already two hours later than even normal. The clock on his desk had been a red digital clock he remembered, and its large bleak numbers had stood out vibrantly in the relative darkness of his room and his desk lamp which had been the only light he had bothered to turn on.

2:00 AM.

The sound had been terribly loud and it still was in his memory echoing like a thunderclap.

_ The sharp rapping of knuckles on wood._

Three short bursts.

He recalled wondering who in the hell it was at that hour, the significance of the event lost on him in his teenage angst. Standing up, he huffed loudly, went to his bedroom door and had yanked open the door, preparing to yell at his mom that someone was at the door.

His mom, it had turned out, already knew. She was standing there, in her pajama pants, sock feet and university t-shirt, her hair normally tied back and out of her face hanging around her small shoulders in sandy blonde waves. He saw she still had her tea cup in her hand. It had been one of a set of two that his father had gotten them before Brian had been born. His mom loved to have a mug of warm chamomile before bed on the long nights when his dad was late.

The front door was already open, the white and teal hallway outside the apartment visible, the twin wall sconces casting a golden glow on the hardwood floors as the light came through the door way. In the door frame, two uniformed officers stood, their hats in their hands. Their dark navy uniforms and shimmering badges were a stark contrast to the black leather of their equipment belts and the matte darkness that was their sidearms.

Brian recognized them. The one with the thinning brown hair and clean shaven face was Dennis Harding. Harding was a kind man, soft spoken and he had an amusing way of being able to talk most suspects down. He had ate dinner with the MacGregor's more than once, telling hilarious stories about traffic tickets and tense situations that he had defused with that soft southern accent of his, a holdover from his boyhood days in Alabama. Brian had watched him put on his cop face (as Harding called) and had gotten a kick out of how serious he suddenly became only to break into his more usual smile, the one that suspects never got to see.

_ The other was a woman, Andrea Picking. Picking was a petite woman, light of frame but she was the fastest sprinter on the force and held the regional championships for performance every year the competition was held. She was also almost as good a shot as Brian's dad was. Her chocolate brown skin and soft brown eyes were disarming and she used it to her advantage in situations where crooks and even the occasional higher up thought they could work her over before handing them their teeth and telling them where to stick it._

Blood in his body had turned to ice that night as he saw them standing there. Hardings face was drawn, pale and exhausted and Picking's fire had been extinguished. She looked as if every bit of hope had been pulled out of her. Brian couldn't hear what they said to his mother but he didn't need to.

He knew what the words were and what they meant.

The sound of a teacup shattering as it struck the floor was as loud as a planet breaking and the silence in which it died was nearly as absolute. The world tilted and broke at that moment. The future was gone and in its place now loomed a terrible unrelenting truth that was self evident as Brian's mother turned, hearing his footsteps or his door open perhaps.

Her soft blue eyes were wet and her mouth was broken into a thin straight line; her cheeks were flushed and her throat heaved. Locking on to her son, she had reached for him and said his name but he had shut down, rejecting reality before he too broke. He did break later of course, and he had broken hard...

Back in the world, back in the present, Brian's hands clenched reflexively at the strength of the memories.

Pain exploded in tiny hot novas through his knuckles, wrists and the muscles themselves. A thousand tiny needles pricked his flesh inside all at once and he shook his hand out like he had been stung.

"Son of a bitch..." he groaned, flexing his fingers trying to get the feeling to go away. He looked at his hand and gasped in surprise.

His night vision had changed. No longer were things simply muted colors and deep dark shadows melted together. No, it wasn't that any longer at all.

The world had taken on a new ambiance, a shade of blue grey yet colors still existed. The dark was brighter, sharper. The shadows weren't as deep. Detail was standing at out; the veins in the blades of the dead grass, the pebbled texture of the asphalt, the ant carrying something back to its lair paying him no mind as it went on its way, all of these stood out in stark clarity now. Blinking did nothing; he wasn't hallucinating. He could see in the dark.

A thunderous cacophony of sound lanced his ear drums, driving fragmented shards of pain into his brain, vibrating his skull. Brian felt his back teeth rattle in their sockets and he cried out from the intensity of the sound. No, sounds. A car door slammed somewhere, shaking the world. The fizzing buzz of the street lamps drilled at him. Lightning exploded behind his eyeballs as a car honked its horn and he felt like his ears would bleed if that girl, whoever she was, laughed as loud as she did. He could hear the partiers, he realized. He gasped again as the shrill shrieks of laughter stabbed him.

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and he was suddenly very aware that the feverish heat had been feeling a few minutes before had now turned into an inferno, no, the sun itself. His chest was on fire. His heart hammered scorching lava instead of blood. He shut his eyes, tears welling up in the corners of his eyelids from the strain.

The voices and sounds of life in the city, normally muted and low, so much so that no one ever really paid any mind to them, Brian included, had turned into a jabbering of lunatic screams, conversations, laughter and crying. He took a deep breath to try and force through it but instead that awoke a whole new nightmare.

He could smell the hobo next to him, across the bench. Not just smell him; he could read him; flashes of information rained down on his overheating brain like napalm: The scent of alcohol, the tangy sickly sweetness of rancid body odor, the cloying dirty of unwashed hair washed over Brian and shot down his throat. He could taste the man's filth in his mouth; it was gritty and agonizingly thick, like some kind of shit filled paste. There was something else there; a rotten scent; decaying meat, hot swelling death.

Cancer.

The hobo had cancer. It was eating up his stomach. The hobo coughed in his sleep and Brian smelt the blood of old ulcers.

The hobo wasn't the only thing he could smell; he could smell the pavement's heat, the sweet scent of sex and the coppery tang of blood in the air. Burning rubber, thick motor oil and metal crashed over him in a cascade of sensory overload. Each scent was unique and stood out, all of them, wanted attention now, now NOW.

Each one had its own story and came in layers of human story; he could tell some of the women in the party group were menstrating and could smell the acrid scent of testosterone rolling off the men. They were in sight now, just outside the park, passing by in a group, oblivious to anything but their own lives. Brian wanted them to go away to shut up, to stop making so much noise.

With a sharp cry of pain, as the sounds of one of the women's keys jangling in her purse gouged his skull, Brian leaped to his feet and the heat surged through him, hotter than ever as all of his senses began to blur. Everything was happening at once. His brain couldn't keep up. It was a wild rollercoaster, no a violently spinning merry go round that never stopped and he was trapped on it, slowly being slung out to be flung off into space to die. He threw his hands up to his ears to cover them, to block the sound, but it was useless.

Brian forced his legs to move, to get away from the sounds, the scents, the sights, to find peace.

Around him, buildings and people shot past in blurs; he could still smell them; the stink of sweat and body odor, the musky smell of rut and the sickening smell of drugs and alcohol, flooding his mind with their information. He wanted to scream himself; it was reaching a point where he could not tell his own thoughts from the overload; in his head, images and feelings and emotions danced; lust, hatred, anger, sadness, despair, dark joy, his own panic; Brian surely felt he was losing his mind.

He saw new images in his mind now, stark and clear, flashing by at light speed, each one hitting him with a cold heavy gravity. In them, it felt like he was seeing through someone else's eyes but at the same time they were his own; it was impossible; it wasn't him but it was and he had no choice as they rose up to drown him in their imagery...

He was outside.

It was snowing, the flakes falling, drifting on the night air, settling softly on the two and half feet of the stuff that had settled upon the ground, like a cold, brittle blanket of frozen tears on the earth that did not care.

_ The trees stood dark and silent, sentinels of the wild, their scent, a thick heady pine-filled musk, green with life, which filled his nose, and the cold purity of the snow that awoke his senses. Above him, as he trudged through the snow, the stars lit the sky up as they could never do in a big city; no, only here could it happen where every one of them was visible, like kings of heaven watching the lives of earth play out below._

_ ...He felt the cool snow beneath his feet, crunching as he lifted one foot in front of the other. His snow gear and parka added an extra layer of warmth and soft protection his fur could not provide alone and kept him mostly dry. The backpack of gear on his back rubbed into his shoulders but he did not care. He loved the outdoors and since his mother had let him off a week early from home school, he fully planned to enjoy it. the other children had been terrified of him at best and cruelly vindictive at the worst, often cornering him in groups of three and four, beating him with their fists and feet, whatever they could lay their hands on._

_ His parents had of course notified the principle who's only response was predictably that it was his fault and that perhaps it would be best if his parent's pulled him out of public school, for the benefit of everyone involved._

_ That had happened years ago; he had been home schooled since them, from third grade up until now, his senior year. Other kids his age would have been partying, going out to movies or even better, preparing for their prom night._

_ Not him._

_ Those things were for normal people who could walk down the street and not get shot at, screamed at or spit on..._

Older now, he was alone, in the snowy night...

...Men dressed in black cloaks from head to foot, like dark ghosts, jeering and lobbying jars full of gasoline and stuff with rags into the fire, the sound of shattering glass and the whoosh and leap of flame, the crushing heat from the flames soaring each time this was done, piercing his eyes and ears...

Another flash and time jumped again. Brian felt the world sway.

...One of the men grabbed him from behind and managed to pin his arms as the others beat him, spitting on him, holding him back. One of the men, bigger than the rest, snarled, his growl almost animal like; He thought he saw metal claws before fire-hot pain split his snout as four gashes from raked his nose as he caught a glimpse of hateful eyes. His attacker laughed in his face. Screaming in anger and desperation he tried to break loose, even as he saw his father's body lying on the snow, there, just south of the porch stairs, surrounded by a pool of scarlet. Tears stung his eyes. His father had been killed fighting these men.

No....

Inside a burning house now, Brian's vision swam again as his brain tried to keep up and failed with the images it was being assaulted with....

A fireball the size of a semi wiped out the entire basement and first floor; he felt himself get picked up and thrown, straight through the window. He felt his grip on his mother slide...and then she was gone as he sailed through the night. He seemed to fall slowly and then as he neared the ground the world sped up to proper speed as it rushed up to strike him in the face.

Holding his head in his hands, Brian screamed in agony and torment from the images. It wasn't his mother dying but it was as the fireball blackened the snow. He stepped forward and that was when Brian felt his knees lock. With a cry of shock, he was thrown to the ground, hitting the warm dirt and pavement hard enough to drive the wind from him in a painful huff. Brian struggled to get back up but found he couldn't.

The hobo on the bench sat up with a start, his newspapers falling to the ground, his face a mask of swollen sleepiness and surprise. He looked at the young man on the ground in front of him and he frowned. The kid looked like he was bad off, maybe heart attack bad off. He was holding his head in his hands and his legs were curled up, like a baby. Violent shivers racked up and down the boy's body in waves, as the muscles in his neck and arms stood out like cords.

"Hey buddy...you ok?" the old hobo asked, his grey-brown beard and dark eyes glinting. The kid didn't respond but only shuddered. Not knowing what else to do, the hobo reached out a hand and touched the kid's shoulder. The kid went from being on all fours to falling on his side entirely. When he hit the ground, the kid's eyes snapped open.

The hobo felt his heart leap into his throat. His mouth went dry and a cold wave rippled out over him as his skin broke out into goose flesh. His hair standing on end, the hobo felt brief liquid warmth fill the crotch of his trousers and he realized distantly that he had wet himself.

The kid's eyes were glowing bright vivid electric green.

The white's of the kids eyes were normal but his irises...those irises...they shone with emerald fire, the boy's pupils were like black holes going down, down forever into some mythic abyss.

The hobo decided that now was a good a time as any to relocate and without another word, he stumbled back ward off his bench and ran for the streets, leaving Brian alone.

There was a jerking from behind his navel and he felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and contract and loosen and contract again, making his whole body heave with each contraction as his fingers and hands splayed wide. Unable to stand, Brian weakly fought the powerful tremors that were racking his body. He watched, unable to stop them even as he closed his eyes against the sudden hot rush of pain that ran from his toes to his fingertips, his eye lids forced back open by the sheer intensity of the wave. Brian whip-lashed as his spine flexed of its own accord, like a whip snake, snapping his neck back ward and forward as it did with a wet crunch; his ribs convulsed violently, shuddering under his skin and he felt himself vomit violently, spraying his hands in the warm liquid that was more water and hot bile than anything he had eaten in the last twelve hours.

Brian stared in shock as the joints in his hands began to flex, popping open and stretching, moving beneath the skin, pulling the tendons and tissues, crackling like bubble wrap with their searing determination to re-arrange themselves. His Fingernails and toenails grew thick and turned black as pitch, curling into short blunt claws. Each finger felt as though each finger tip had been dipped in acid as blood welled up from under his nail beds. His began to englarge, swelling in his boots, straining the leather with a creaking groan. Beneath his skin the tickling burn of his muscles moving, squelching and growing instantly felt like someone had taken hooks and sunk them into his flesh and were pulling at them from all directions. He panted, breathing hard and raspy as he tried to stand one last time only to fall as his legs themselves began to change, the calf muscles growing thicker by the second, his knee caps thickening and moving forward even as the femurs and thigh bones stretched the tissues they attached to.

He heard his jeans rip as his legs outgrew the confines of the fabric. The seam split like butter. The sound was sharp and cutting.

Brian felt his stomach drop and suddenly his whole body was shaking as if from low blood sugar, that same weak feeling he got when he worked himself too hard at the gym and forgot to eat. Another wave shook his abdomen but no vomit came this time, only dry heaves, which were worse. Each heave pulled on bleeding muscle and agony would explode each time. He felt his ears disconnect from his skull and slide up, up and backward, the cartilage snapping and cracking. The sensation was the same as if someone were tickling his skin just barely and moving their hands up and down to purposefully raise goose bumps but impossibly inside the meat of his head.

Hot lightning shot up and down his spine; at the base of his backbone the heat was so extreme, so hot, that he knew he was going to ignite. The bone there was molten, cooking him from the inside out. While he couldn't see it, the outlines of his spine shimmered white hot through his skin like a hellish x-ray. A terrible pressure was building, just above the waistband of his jeans, up in the small of his back. It was getting worse and worse, building into a volcano of sheer torment before it finally released with the same explosion of white hot pain and relief that came with bursting a large boil and with a jutting cracking of bone after bone, the pressure was gone. He bit down, his teeth cutting his own tongue; hot blood gushed in his mouth and he nearly choked, spitting it out as he felt something long and flexing tickle the back of his now exposed calves. It was bare, like a naked rat's....

_ _....tail.

He had grown a tail. It was bare and naked, flailing wildly.

_ _ After trying to hold in the scream that was building inside his lungs, Brian realized he could not hold it in and finally as his teeth began to split, cutting his gums, his jaw bone dislocated with a sickening crunch, he finally screamed, the sheer force of it ripping his throat and lungs raw; what came from him was not a scream, not a human scream but something more, a deep primitive sound, a long drawn out howl, a screaming howl, the agonized howl of a tortured beast, the howl of the wolf.

He felt the bones in face break, cheek bones, eye orbits and he saw red. Another scream tore from him and his face, nose and mouth began to stretch, to elongate, and finally they formed a muzzle, just like Max's as bone solidified, the end of his nose turning black and moist. New teeth punched through his gums, bleeding, healing and cutting anew; the grinding of molars and incisors and bicuspids was painfully loud in his skull; his spine flexed again and he felt himself spasm violently. Blood poured from the corners of his eyes, his nose and the corners of his mouth.

_ _His toes began to crack and twist down, forming the same type of toe-paws that Max had for feet as he wished to tear the now too small boots from his feet. He felt the rough pads grow in on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet and finally, felt the itching fire of each and every part of his body that overwhelmed everything else.

_ _His skin had turned dark, almost black and growing from it was fur. Everywhere. All at once it came from every pore, and within moments, every inch of his body sported sleek short but thick fur the color of space itself: jet black, gleaming in the city lights. The waist band of his pants was cutting into him deeply and Brian hear the fabric of his shirt rip between his shoulder blades; a moment later, the shirt itself fell away in tatters, his new powerful and muscular torso too large for it to contain. Deeper down, his testicles seemed to explode as if he were kicked in the groin as they strained with their new bigger size in their now confined quarters. The nausea was instant; Hormones surged through his blood stream. His tail was now fully furred like the rest of him.

_ _The last thing he remembered before falling into a sea of unconsciousness, wanting desperately to drown there, was his tongue lengthening and stretching to fit the new length of his mouth, becoming much more flexible than it used to be, sitting between his new fangs and sharp teeth. He saw his hands before his vision went; powerful, and graceful, shaking but covered in a sheen of black fur, and yet somehow still human but also all too much like...

_ ...like Max's powerful hands._

*****

The hot night air blew in through the open windows of the truck cab as Max drove himself and Raven down the city streets. Both of them had scented Brian and had turned right after they had left Max's apartment, doing their best to follow the man's scent buried in the sensory chaos that was Dawson City. The leather interior of the truck creaked as Raven adjusted herself. She was still in her human form, and preferred it when out in public. She watched Max as they came up to a stop light and a cross walk intersection. The hard set of his jaw told her he was in deep thought as did the distance in his eyes. She saw his nose sniffle and move and knew that as far away as he was mentally, he was also here and now, alert, the fighter in him not allowing him to be anywhere else, not really.

Through the windshield, the truck's headlights splayed on passing cars, the metal bodies gleaming brilliantly before fading. The red stop light above them held sway, its red glow spilling down onto them in the cabin. Ahead of them was the old park that used to be called City Green, but it had been discarded by city officials long ago. Now it was the place where hookers and drug pushers met to trade drugs and bodies like condiments at a fast food joint. A party was going on somewhere; there was always a party somewhere she reasoned, her violet eyes moving from face to face in the crowds that passed them by on the streets outside. She was glad the doors were locked.

She looked at Max again. His white tank top looked like it was covered in blood from the glow of the stop light and the light turned his fur a strange brown color. The scars on his snout stood out in the harsh light and she spoke up.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

His ears perked towards her but never moved away from his skull where he usually kept them pinned.

"Don't. Its nothing. You were right..."

"No," she insisted, facing him fully, her eyebrows frowning. "I was wrong to judge what you did. You saved his life; I know why you do what you do, out here," she motioned through the glass at the throbbing city, "and how much it means to you. You did what you had to do. I can a real bitch sometimes."

For a moment, a shadow of a grin threatened to pull up the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah you can but don't change. There's been too much of that lately." The proto-grin faded away just as fast.

For a moment, the car was silent and the only sound was the humming engine, tuned to perfection, as Max always kept it. She knew he was thinking about Brian and more. She had a knack for reading people, though Max made it difficult at times. He kept his feelings close to his chest.

"You think he'll be ok?"

That question caught her off guard but more so, it was the tone in which Max asked it. In his voice, she heard something she hadn't heard in a very long time. Only once had she heard it. That small vulnerable fear given a voice spoke volumes.

"I hope so. Do you smell anything? I'm having a hard time with all this background filler..." she sighed, moving closer to her open window. Max inhaled deeply, his thick chest rising and falling. The light turned green and Max eased the accelerator down as the car began to move forward.

"I can almost pick something out...I think we're close. I---" he began.

"LOOK OUT!"

Raven's shout instantly caused the fur on the back of his neck to raise and he hit the brake pedal instinctively. The truck lurched forward and came to a bone rattling stop as they were both flung forward with the inertia, straining against their seatbelts before being slammed back into their seats.

A wild eyed man dressed in dirty brown clothes, ragged jeans, flopping shoes and a tattered shirt came running at them, flailing across the street, shooting into traffic.

No, Raven thought, not at them, just in their direction. His eyes were not wild from drugs but from fright. He came running out of the old park, took a look at the werewolf driving the truck and bolted in the opposite direction.

"What the hell was that about?" Max asked, annoyance creeping back into his voice. He was about to start driving again, watching the hobo out of the corner of his eye as the old man receded up the street when Raven grabbed his thick forearm.

"Max! Look!"

Lifting his head in the direction she indicated, Max swung his head around towards the old park, forcing his vision to focus beyond the gleaming city lights and street lamps, beyond the orange and LED glows, past the people walking by on the sidewalk and there at the very edge of his vision, he saw in what Raven did in sharp relief against the shadows of the night, lying in the center of the circle of resting benches.

A prone form, black as night...a form that looked familiar yet changed....

"It's him!" Max knew and turned the truck hard, cutting off the traffic as he did so, shooting across the intersection and pulling up to the park's old broken down fence. The truck's tires squealed to a stop as angry drivers honked their displeasure with him. Cutting the engine, he was out of the car before Raven could get her seat belt undone.

Max moved across the darkened grassy field, passed the bathroom building, his tail flying behind him, his ears pinned back and he came to a stop just outside the benches and felt his breath catch in his throat. In the dark, his eyes glowed a golden amber but they had none of the menace they did the previous night. Now, they had only shock and awe.

On the ground before him Brian lay unconscious. Around him were the tattered purple remains of the Addidas shirt he had been wearing when he had left. In the dark and in his blue-grey night vision, the pieces had taken on the color of dried blood and Max shuddered instinctively. The Brian before him was not the Brian that had left the apartment.

This Brian was much bigger, nearly as big as Max was himself. Where Brian had been tall and stocky, this Brian was tall and powerfully muscled, built for power and speed. This Brian was covered in short thick black fur, rather like his own, saving only the difference in color. A blaze of grey fur was splashed on Brian's slowly moving chest and stomach. Otherwise, the fur was so dark it almost drank in the light. Pointed ears rose from Brian's skull and his head was now fully that of a wolf, just like Max himself, with a long muzzle and black tipped nose. The fur on Brian's new chin was a bit longer than Max's own and a new tail lay behind Brian limply. The pants Max had last seen Brian wearing were stretched to their limit, the legs ripped to shreds. The white fabric strip that had been Brian's underwear peeked out from the top of his jeans similar pulled to the breaking point. The leather of the boots on his feet was cracked and beginning to split.

Brian's hands were now tipped with the blunt but deceptively sharp black claws that all shifters had and for the moment, he seemed to be sleeping, breathing deeply but steadily. Max realized now that Brian would be standing eye to eye with him now.

"Oh my God..." Raven said as she caught up to Max, appearing at his side, seeing what had become of Brian MacGregor on the ground before her shocked her as much as it had Max himself.

Max knelt down beside Brian and checked his pulse to be sure. It beat powerfully, surging in his thick neck beneath the heavy fur.

"He's alive. Pulse is strong. Think we can--"

"MAX!"

Raven's shout went unheard as Max felt the words instantly close off in his throat as much as he felt the iron grip suddenly clench down on his neck. Startled he looked down to see that Brian was very much awake and he was glaring at Max, his bright green eyes glowing brightly with hot rage. He struggled to pull back but couldn't free himself. Brian's grip got tighter. Brian yanked Max to within an inch of the other's snout.

"You did this to me."

Brian's voice was not the same as it had been when they left; now it dripped poisonous anger, the hatred simmering like a hot pan on a stove.

"Br-" Max struggled to get words out and without as much as batting an eyelash, Brian pulled back the arm he held Max in and pistoned that arm forward, throwing Max backwards.

Max flew through the air, sailing for a good ten feet, crashing hard on his ass, rolling to a stop in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Brian got to his feet.

Raven felt a shock of fear run down her spine as she saw him fully standing. He towered over her, his jet black body blending into the shadows, his thick chest heaving, his tail lashing behind him, his ears pinned back against his head. His eyes were twin jade suns burning in the night-blackness. His lips pulled back, revealing his razor sharp fangs and the rows of sharp teeth behind them. She had those same teeth but had never seen them bared like this. It was a terrifying sight.

Steeling herself she put himself in front of Brian, putting a hand out on his stomach, trying to push him back a bit to calm him down, to help him see reason.

It was like trying to push on a brick wall.

"Brian, please, stop, listen to me. You need to calm down. Ple--"

She let out a cry as Brian shoved her aside as though she weren't there, sending her roughly to the ground as he stepped over and began to pick up speed as he ran to where Max had fallen.

Max stirred and saw stars. Blinking he shoved them out of his field of vision.

Feeling the ground shake, he looked up to see Brian charging at him, his fangs bared, claws spread, tail lashing, legs pumping, his ears pinned flat against his skull.

"Fuck me..." he snarled to himself.

Jumping to his feet, Max braced for the impact but still it felt being hit by a car. Every bit of wind was thrown out of him as he was driven back, harder and faster than he could pull away from, his boots ripping up great troughs of the earth as he tried to lean into the charge and put a stop to Brian's momentum. Finally his motion seemed to slow as the muscles in his arms bunched, Max shoved forward into Brian, grabbing him by the shoulders, holding him in place. It took everything he had. Shifters had an almost supernatural strength when angered, Max knew but Brian was on another level entirely.

Max's arms shook with the strain as he fought to keep Brian pinned down. He looked at Brian and saw nothing but anger. Green eyes met yellow eyes.

"Brian! STOP! LISTEN TO ME GODDAMN IT! YOU NEED-"

Brian broke Max's hold on his arms and lashed out with a solid swipe to the side of Max's head.

The world trembled and for a moment, blackness threatened to overtake him as Max reel with the blow. He felt blood trickle down the side of his head and sound on his right side suddenly became muted, his ear drum ruptured from the concussive force. Shaking it off, he drove a right handed hay maker into Brian's face, his fist connecting heavily with Brian's snout.

A sharp canine cry of pain erupted out of Brian and he stumbled back. Max took the opening and leveled a gut charge Brian, throwing all of his three hundred pounds of muscle into it. He rammed into the darker furred shifter, driving his shoulder into Brian's chest as hard as he could. If he could get him on the ground then Raven could hit him with the tranquilizer. It was getting him there without killing himself or Brian that was going to be the challenge.

The charge stumbled Brian backward but only for a moment. Max forgot that Brian was a security guard and even in his hormone driven rage, his muscle memory kicked in only now it was super charged. Instead of fighting the momentum of the charge, Brian tucked and rolled with it, grabbing Max around the waist. For a moment, Max was face first into the fur on Brian's chest. He smelled the coppery scent of blood and felt the blazing heat radiating off of Brian and then the world went top side.

Brian hooked a hand into the back of Max's jean's waist band and cupped the other hand into Max's crotch, crushing his balls in the process, and used the momentum from Max's charge to hurl him through the air again, this time in the opposite direction. Pain rocketed through Max's body before gravity lost its hold on him. He saw the ground and sky switch places for a brief moment, saw Raven getting back to her feet, digging in her bag as fast as she could. He saw the ground and sky resume their normal positions, he saw the stone fountain in the center of the benches rushing at him at impossible speeds.

He had time for two things to happen.

The first was to register that the impact was going to hurt like hell. No, worse than hell.

The second was to tuck his body as best as he could, ignoring the pain that was burning from a million places and brace for impact.

The sound of his own body hitting the upper middle section of the fountain was deafening inside his skull. The wet meaty smack of flesh on stone racked his spine up and down and Max thought he literally heard and felt his own teeth rattle. The agony went supernova in a white hot explosion as his body careened into the fountain properly, and the sound of splitting stone was lost on him as he kept going and sheared right through it.

Millions of stone particles, chunks of concrete and dust filled the air as Max's body crashed through the fountain, coming to land on the other side of it in a bloody heap rolling across the rough pavement, the asphalt tearing patches of skin away on his elbows and arms. He hit the ground hard, the breath driven from his lungs.

A dark shape flew through the air with a beastly roar, a snarl from the ancient days, and with a THUMP , the earth itself shook, the asphalt cracked and Brian was on top of Max, pinning him to the pavement. Spinning him around, Brian held Max totally at his mercy, glaring deep into Max's amber eyes, his own blazing green.

"...Your...fault...." Brian snarled, in agony himself as his mouth bled from his new teeth.

Brian raised his hand back in a clenched fist, the thick muscles in his arm bunching, and Max knew that when the blow landed, Brian's fist would go clean through his skull like a wrecking ball. He bucked uselessly but couldn't gain leverage.

Max saw a new shape move through the night, a blazing streak of white. He saw a lithe form charge across the fields at the hulking werewolf that had been Brian MacGregor hours ago, her violet eyes shimmering in the shadows as she moved impossibly fast. The shape was airborne a second later, landing with a WHUMP onto Brian's broad back. With a roar of surprise, he tried to buck the shape off but it was too late because the needle was already jammed deep into his neck and the plunger fully depressed.

The white form fell to the ground and rolled clear. Brian let go of Max and stood upright. He yanked the syringe from his neck and threw it to the ground. It skittered across the pavement, white fluid leaking from its razor tip. He looked from the white form now crouched, ready to fight and back to Max, his eyes seeming to relax, his pupils dilating and at last, the anger in his scorching eyes died away, fading like water evaporating under a hot sun. His muscles went slack and Brian crumpled to his knees. Collapsing at last into unconsciousness, his green eyes locked with Max's amber gold orbs and in them Max saw only confusion and pain. A moment later, Brian MacGregor was drugged into oblivion and this time, he did not wake up.

His body aching in a million places, his groin screaming in agony, but slowly settling into a dull throbbing ache, Max dragged himself up to his feet, and looked at Raven. She had fully shifted on the fly, changing even as she had leaped onto Brian to knock him out.

"You ok...?" Max panted. Raven stood up straight and back into a cautious stance eyeing Brian's limp form like a bomb before walking back to pick up her bag only nodding. Max saw her chest heaving. She was panting.

"We need to get him out of here....somewhere when that tranquilizer wears off that I can treat him to make sure he doesn't have any more of those episodes. His hormones will be stabilizing soon enough but I don't know how long that's going to take."

She crossed back over to Max, her white fur standing out like a spot light, her stunning eyes glowing a soft purple like a black light in the dark. "How about you? You took one hell of a beating...he nearly killed you.." she said, starting to examine him. Max brushed her off gently shaking his head.

"What about Draco's?" Max asked quietly, studying his friend, his breathing finally slowing. He could feel his body knitting itself and the pain would now be a dull constant ache for the next twenty four hours. He saw himself eating ibuprofen like candy.

"That'll work. I'll have all my equipment there and it will be safer than your apartment and if anyone knows how to handle this, Draco will. We should have talked to him first." She agreed.

"Let's move. I can hear sirens. Think we can get him into the back of the truck? It's not far to the safehouse. Hopefully that crap will keep him knocked out." Max said moving to the top of Brian's unconscious body. Grunting with pain and strain, he managed to get Brian into a fireman's carry.

Again, he thought darkly.

The scent of testosterone and blood was almost overpowering this close to him. Even out of it, Brian body radiated an amazing amount of heat.

"Assuming his metabolic rate doesn't burn through it. I gave him a whole syringe. I'm surprised it didn't kill him. Still, we should hurry." Raven replied as the two set off at a jog across the fields.

Laying Brian down in the back of the truck, Max hopped up into the back of the bed of the truck and wedged himself under Brian to where Brian's head was laying in his lap. He motioned to Raven to drive. She got up into the truck and after adjusting the seat, the engine roared to life as they pulled away.

Max tapped on the window of the cab. Raven reached around without looking and unclasped it, sliding it open with a thunk.

"Take the side roads. We need to stay off the main roads for a bit."

Nodding her understanding, Raven turned onto a side street.

Max looked back around and down at Brian's sleeping form.

At the moment, he had none of the angry ferocity Max had seen during their fight. He looked peaceful and in a strange way, his face almost appeared handsome, the street light's orange glow gleaming once in a while over his space-black fur. Max looked at the rest of Brian's body, seeing the blood and felt a stab of guilt again.

This was his fault. Damn...but...

He watched Brian's thick chest rise and fall slowly.

Maybe this might work out if we can get him somewhere safer. Draco would know how to proceed. The man had been like a father to Max since Max had made his way to Dawson City and Draco was one of the few people in his life that Max felt completely safe with. Well, nearly so.

The safe-house was very secure and it was only known to the shifter community and had a fully equipped medical bay. Max thought he should have brought Brian there to begin with but what's done is done.

Now I can just pick up the pieces, like always, he thought darkly as the truck receded into the shadows, turned a corner and was gone.

Chapter 4

His face hurt. His eye was swollen up and under the fur it was turning a nasty greenish-purple. Dried blood stained and caked his fur around the tip of his muzzle and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walked into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection and it stared back at him, his face tired and angry and sad all at once. His ocean blue eyes stood out against the dark gray of his coat of fur. His ears were pinned back against the top of his head as if they were pasted there. The grey hoodie he wore and the black t-shirt under it were both splotched with mud and dirt. His jeans had a torn knee and his shoes were just as bad. He glanced as his backpack and seeing how its torn shoulder strap dangled limply, he sighed and looked back to himself.

He didn't do anything. He kept to himself. But goddamn Ricky Kennedy and his bullshit; hell the whole fucking gang of those numb nut assholes, he thought savagely as he growled at his image, turned on the water tap and waited. He let the water run for a moment before scooping it up with a squirt of soap from the turtle shaped dispenser on the white porcelain sink. A burst of floral scent hit him as he worked the soap up in his hands, the warm water flowing between his fingers. Downstairs, he heard a door open and shut and heard the light footsteps that told him his mom was off work. He heard the jangle as she hung her keys up on the key ring holder next to the front door. He could smell the cold air on her from outside, even upstairs. Working fast, he didn't want her to see him like this and within moments scrubbed his face clean. He couldn't do anything about the swelling on his left eye but hopefully she wouldn't notice it. Shutting off the water, he turned away from the sink and grabbed his bag and headed towards his room across the hall.

_ "Max?"_

Brian woke up, sluggish and dreamy, he forced his eyelids open and the images faded. His eyelids felt like they were full of sand or like someone had attached weights to them. The lights were too dim to focus on anything as it was. It took a monumental effort and so he closed them again. He lay there, breathing deeply; his whole body ached and his head thumped as if there was a tiny giant inside his skull hammering on the walls with a mallet the size of a semi. His throat and mouth were scummy, parched and dry. He felt gritty.

Forcing his eyes open again, Brian tried to focus in the dim light and as his hands passed in front of his face, he got a good look at them.

They covered in black fur with black nails, with tough pads on the underside of his finger tips.

He groaned, though the sound that came out of his parched throat was weak. More images ran through his head and these were crazy, jumbled. He saw himself sitting on a park bench in the dark, in the city, next to him, a hobo had been sleeping. He saw flashes of red hot and then scalding pain. Splashes of blood. He remembered feeling rage, a deep primal rage though he couldn't remember why and trying to force himself to made little white dots flash in front of his eyes and his head hurt worse. He remembered Max. Hearing Ravens voice. Max flying? Yes. Max had flown through the air--

(Because I threw him like he was a kick ball)

--- And a fountain or some kind of statuary exploding into clouds of rock, cement and choking dust.

The last thing he remembered was a sharp prick in the side of his neck and then oblivion. Last night was a reality, not a dream or a nightmare and this was his life now, he thought, holding up his hands again, looking at them as if they were some strange alien appendage. What had happened last night, really? How did those images fit together?

With a grunt, Brian dragged himself into a sitting position and took stock in his surroundings as his eyes adjusted and that blue-grey filter seemed to settle onto his vision.

The first thing he noted was that he was in a bed. Not just any bed, but a hospital bed. A fairly advanced model judging by the fact that it had digital touch screens mounted in the foot of the bed with monitors on his vitals. He looked at his right hand and saw the clear tubes of intravenous feeds nestled into the fur on the back of his hand held in place with blue medical tape that had been wrapped around his hand in an X shape. He followed the tubes up and around and there, next to the head of the bed on the right side was an infusion pump. Squinting, he could actually read the words on the now nearly empty transparent plastic bag.

Saline.

There was another bag hanging with the saline pouch and turning his head a bit and straining his neck he could see the label on it as well. The fluid inside of the second bag was clear but cloudy and squinting, he made out the letters.

Naloxone.

He knew what that was, having seen it used in the emergency room more than once. It was a drug used to counter the effects of opioid overdose. Usually, it was administered via an auto-injector or a manual shot. He'd had seen more than druggie come in nearly dead that the drug had saved.

The memory of the pricking sensation on his neck...

Someone had tranquilized him with a large dose of something then....

Was I so out of control?

Frowning, Brian surveyed the rest of the room. It was a standard hospital room, at least to him. The floor was laid with white tile, meticulously scrubbed and the walls were also white; they had no decoration or wall paper, none of the usual trappings used to make patients feel more relaxed and at home. On the left side wall was a set of stainless steel cabinets, all locked of course with different labels that had been stuck on them with a label maker. He couldn't make them out. The sink sat dry and unused, though a small drop of water was clinging from the faucet. A moment later, it fell into the basin with a soft plink.

The cabinets above the counters and sink were also stainless steel and in them, Brian saw his reflection, distorted in the shining metal.

The face that stared back at him wasn't the face that he had known for his entire life. Now, it was a canine face: a long graceful muzzle tipped with a moist black nose, triangular ears and eyes that glowed in the dark like a freaking watch dial. The color of his irises was pretty close to that, now that he thought about it. He blinked and tried to not to look too close. Seeing his own eyes shimmer like that was disconcerting.

Now that his eyes were adjusted to the dim light, he looked himself up and down quickly. He didn't seem injured. His new body was causing him some mental issues however with his body image. In his mind he was still very much human but his eyes and reality refused to cooperate. He was covered with white sheets and a thin but warm white hospital blanket. It was tangled around his feet and ankles and he had no desire to get up so he didn't try to free himself.

Brian realized that he was butt naked however and instinctively pulled the sheet and blanket up a bit more. He wasn't cold; between his new fur and the blankets, he was surprisingly comfortable he found. He swallowed, his throat begging for liquid and ran his tongue around his new mouth and felt a twang of surprise as he felt the new and very sharp fangs in his mouth. Instantly, the image of a dog's mouth jumped into his mind.

Opening his mouth to yawn, he heard his jaws pop and crack. How long had he been laying here? Where was here?

Brian didn't hear any of the usual hospital sounds. No beeping, no yelling, no jangling phones or nurse's carts. No one had knocked on his door and told him it was time to take his vitals at the moment he fell asleep so where ever he was, it wasn't any hospital he knew of and as far as he could tell, there were no other patients. As he yawned, he got hit by the over powering scent of disinfectant and alcohol swabs. Not an unpleasant scent but it reminded him of work and eerily so.

The red glow of the pulse-oxy meter taped to his left index finger shone warmly in the dark as he fully sat up. He saw the heart monitor jump slightly as he jiggled the meter by accident. As Brian adjusted himself, something hard poked into his hip.

He heard a click, followed by a sharp beep.

Wriggling a bit, he managed to dig out what it was.

The nurse beckon call switch.

"Shit..." he said his voice gruff and sore. He tossed it aside and it clattered over the side of the plastic bed rail with a sharp but small cacophony of sound. A moment later, the door to the room opened with a click and a blaze of hallway light. Stepping into the room a petite figure drenched in shadow reached out and hit the light switch with a snap. The over head fluorescents came on with a flickering hum before flaring to their full steady brilliance.

"Ow...goddamn..." Brian said, wincing as the harsh light flooded his retinas in a tsunami of temporary blindness. He shielded his eyes for a moment before opening them again, seeing stars until they adjusted. When they did, the blue-grey filter that was his new night vision was gone, replaced by what seemed to be normal color vision. Only it was sharper, clearer in some way. It reminded him of when he upgraded from his old 720p desktop monitor to his 1440 resolution. The world was now in true high definition. Owlishly, he blinked again and the stars were finally gone.

The figure he saw was a familiar and welcome face.

"Good you're awake!"

It was Raven.

She wasn't in her doctor's coat; just a pair of jeans, high top shoes with good ankle support and a pink t-shirt with a logo on it he didn't recognize. Her chestnut hair was pulled back out of her face and held in a loose pony tail behind her. She was in her human form, he noted as she crossed over to the foot of his bed.

She took a quick glance at him before she began typing furiously on touch screen at the foot of the bed, her hands making expert selections. The screen beeped and seemingly satisfied, she moved up to the side of his bed with the infusion pump. She checked the readouts there and with a click and a few button presses, she turned the pump off and stood back to look at him.

"How are you feeling? Any pain? Trouble breathing?" she asked, pulling a pen light from her pants pocket.

"Wait, what..." Brian asked trying to make his mind catch up to her.

"How are you feeling, Mr. MacGregor?" Raven asked again, leaning over the bed and getting up into his face. He instinctually pulled back slightly and without the slightest hesitation or a single word she put her left hand on the back of his head and pushed his head back where it was as she shone the pen light in each eye, blinding him for a moment. Deciding his pupils were responding normally, she put the light away and finally, stepped back and stood with her arms crossed.

"I think I'm okay....all extremely weird things considered. Mouth is a bit dry. Feel like I've been on a weeklong bender and coming down with one hell of a hangover...oh and I have a tail." he told her quietly as he scratched at the IV on his hand. For half a moment, her serious face was nearly shattered by the tiniest of grins that threatened to erupt on the corners of her mouth. She quickly got back to business.

"The tail isn't as much as a concern at the moment. You'll have to get used to it I'm afraid. Do you recall anything that happened? You've been unconscious for some time." She told him as she noticed his scratching. Deftly, she moved over to the cabinets, pulled a key ring from her pants pocket, unlocked a cabinet and began pulling out alcohol swabs and rubber gloves.

She crossed back over to him and he scooted over in the bed a bit to give her a spot to sit and work. Seating herself, she took his right hand and placed it in her lap gingerly. It looked huge sitting there, easily spanning both of her thighs. The image once again caused him to mentally squirm.

"Hold still for me, please." She asked, deep in concentration as she began to remove the IV.

Doing as he was told, Brian watched her work. As he did, he felt movement between his legs; embarrassed he realized his tail was twitching with anxiety. He tried to control it and failed miserably. Mentally he groaned. Good God...

"What's wrong? You're squirming. Don't like needles?" Raven asked as she pulled the needle out of his hand. Brian felt the slight tug and the stinging sliding sensation as the cannula pulled free with only the barest hint of any blood. She was good, he thought.

"Nah, I don't mind them...its...."

Swabbing the back of his hand with an alcohol swab, pressing hard to get to his skin beneath his fur, she continued. "You're more fidgety than a five year old."

"It's...it's the...it's my tail....it won't stop moving." He muttered sheepishly as she finished up with him, the tiny wound already gone and sealed up without so much as a scab. He felt his face flush hot and was grateful that his new face was covered in fur so that she couldn't see him blush.

"Oh." She almost giggled. "That. You're just anxious. Relax. It will stop. It's like your hands, only not as dexterous obviously. You can control it most of the time but you'll find that it and your ears will give away your emotions more than you'd might like. You learn to manage it in time, though." Raven told him as she cleaned up the mess she had made, tossing the wrappers and the used swabs into the trashcan with the red bio-hazard waste bin.

Brian took her measure again and frowned, his ears still pinned back against his head. "How long have I been out and why are you in such a good mood?"

Pulling up a chair, its wheels whirling on the tile noisily, setting it next to the bed, Raven adjusted it until it was level with the bed itself so she could be on eye level with him. Climbing into it she took a deep breath and looked him square in the eyes, her violet irises gleaming warmly.

"To be frank with you, it's Saturday. Almost three days. As for my mood, you, Mr. MacGregor, are a medical miracle."

"Because of all....this...?" Brian asked, indicating his new body.

"No, not precisely; How much do you remember before....before passing out?" she asked diplomatically.

Shaking his head, Brian told her what he could. "Not much. Flashes. Pain...a lot of pain. You...Max...voices...what happened, Raven? Were am I?"

Taking a deep breath, Raven began, going as quickly as she dared.

"We knew based on your original blood work at Max's apartment that your DNA was altered or woke up, we aren't sure which yet but essentially you had become a shifter, like me. The test I ran showed that your DNA was re-writing itself at a fantastic pace and it was only a matter of time before you changed. What I didn't expect and it's because no one has ever survived what you did let alone been in your situation in medical history, was your hormone levels, specifically your cortisol and testosterone levels."

"What about them?" Brian asked as he sat back on the bed after he had raised it up to a sitting position.

"I'm not sure how familiar you are with biochemistry. We all know what testosterone is but your cortisol levels were what caught my attention. Cortisol is one of the main regulating hormones for emotions like anger and rage and your levels were through the roof. The program predicted an exponential increase as time went on but by that point, you had already walked out. I thought you were downstairs with Max but when he came up alone, he told me that you had actually left the apartment itself."

"I knew we needed to get you back and into controlled conditions before the change hit you...you were going to be a danger to yourself and anyone who happened to be around you. Normal shifters like me who are born as shifters don't have that issue. We simply gain the ability to change forms as we enter puberty and in stages. Its smooth, painless and its second nature. With you, however...it was different..."

In Brian's mind, the flashes of white hot agony as his bones moved came again, muscles tore and swelled, the squelching wet slapping of his organs arranging themselves...the burning inferno that was his face as it reshaped itself...

"It hurt like a mother fucker," he said quietly, "It just started....the sounds were so loud...my vision went crazy and then my head felt like it was exploding...I got so angry at the pain.."

Raven's expression grew gentle.

"I'm sorry about that. It sounds like with the re-writing of your DNA that your shifting process was accelerated and happened all at once instead of falling under your gradual control. It must have been a nightmare...."

"It was." Brian told her, swallowing. He realized he was flexing his fingers and that his tail was swatting from side to side under the blankets and with great mental effort got them both to stop.

"Max and I found you...we followed your scent and by the time we found you, the shifting process itself was completed. We thought you were dead. Max took your pulse and..." Raven suddenly became distant. Her face crumpled into thoughtfulness as if she were trying to find the right words to paint the picture she had to paint.

He realized she was trying to find a way to tell him something he wasn't going to like.

"Brian what happened wasn't your fault...you were in a psychotic state brought on by hormonal stress overload...it was like your brain was on fire."

"What did I do?" he asked, afraid of what she was going to tell him.

(Max hit the ground hard rolling like a rag doll, the breath driven from him.)

"You attacked us. Max tried to calm you down. You threw him pretty hard across the field and you did some damage. But he's alive. He's fine. He'll have a headache and his back will be sore for a day or so but he's had far worse done to him over the years."

Her words hit him like a splash of ice water in the face. He felt like he was drowning. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No. Though I did hurt you, I'm afraid."

Seeing his silent frown, Raven nodded her head up to the IV bags.

"I managed to hit you with a syringe full of carfentanil...I didn't have time to measure the dose. If we had taken better precautions..." She shook her head, angry with herself and turned back to him, her purple eyes looking deep into his green ones.

"The dose knocked you unconscious. We managed to get you into the back of Max's truck and brought you to a safe house across town that a friend owns. It was the only place with the facilities to help you without bringing you to the hospital. The dose was too much for you and it sent you into respiratory arrest. Thankfully, Draco had Naloxone on hand. I help him from time to time with people who come through here needing a place to stay....shifters and full generations like Max who can't get a home or a job."

"You nearly died but thankfully the Naloxone pulled you back. Over the last few days, your hormone levels stabilized and you've been asleep since. I've been monitoring you and was hoping I'd be here when you woke up." She finished, looking at him, her gaze guilty.

He waved her off gently. "Don't worry about it...you did what you had to. If my dumbass had stayed put like I was asked to, none of this ...well...most of this...wouldn't have happened. Where's Max?"

"Upstairs. He wouldn't let me treat him but he's his usual self more or less."

With a sigh of acceptance Brian popped his back. It cracked loudly and he felt instant relief. Lying in this bed was making his already sore muscles stiff. "So where and what specifically is this place? You said it was a safe house."

"It is. It's underground, actually. It's a medical treatment facility with some spare rooms in addition to the medical center for people to stay at for a few days until they are on their feet. A shelter, if you will. Right now, there's no one using it. Like I said, in my off time, I'm usually here, helping those shifters who come in and don't want to or don't feel comfortable enough going to a normal hospital. I helped Draco build it. Upstairs, above ground, is Draco's club. The Wolves Den. It's a club for shifters and shifter -friendly humans. "

The name Draco was tugging at the back of his mind for some reason and he couldn't figure out why.

"You mean a night club? Like a bar?" he asked.

Nodding, Raven continued. "Yes. It's a well known community center so to speak among the shifters in the city. Draco built it more than thirty years ago. When he met me, I began to work with him and designed the facility under the club. He paid for it and had it constructed in secret essentially for privacy."

"But why wouldn't shifters go to a normal hospital?" Brian asked, confused.

Raven sighed. "Brian, you are going to learn this quickly and harshly so I'll be upfront about it. You know that the political situation with people like m--us--is complex and volatile. Not everyone or everywhere is as welcoming to shifters or full generations. People get hurt. People die. Draco and I built this place like I said literally as a safe house...for those who had nowhere else to go. I'm sorry but it's a dark world you've woken up in. Ugly. "

That much he knew. The news report from Wednesday floated through, mute and black and white in his mind but he remembered the panic and the stress and the division...The Lycanthropic Registration bill...Rights and laws....none of it had affected him but now, he was drowning in it, up to his eye balls. He wondered if he would ever get a grasp on it.

"You keep saying Draco...do you mean Draco Riley, the civil rights activist?"

Brian remembered images of Riley on the news but for some reason couldn't place the man's face. He knew that Riley was deeply involved in Washington politics and had been campaigning for shifter rights since Brian had been in middle school if not before, and was rumored to be wealthier than God and was himself a shifter but other than that, that all Brian himself could recall.

"I do. Activist is one way of putting it. Draco's spent the better part of a century working to ensure equality and peace between shifters and non-shifters. He's in Washington right now, fighting that stupid bill. Its not looking well." Raven said, standing up, pushing the chair back where it came from.

"Do you have any other questions?"

Of course he had a million of them: Am I stuck like this? Will it hurt to change back? Can I change back? but right now he needed to re-center himself, to get perspective. He thought about telling her about the visions, the images, the strangely vivid dreams but rejected that notion. He didn't her or anyone thinking he was crazier than he already felt. He shook his head no.

"If you'd like and feel up to it, we should go upstairs. You can get some food and get out of that bed. You need to move around any way." She told him as she turned around to face him again. Brian shrugged a bit sheepishly.

"One problem."

"What's that?" she asked.

He indicated himself. When she didn't seem to understand, he lifted the sheet up a bit and pointed to his lower half.

"Oh. Bloody hell I'd forgot that we had to toss your clothes. They were ruined. I'm sorry. Max left some of his clothes for you before he went up." She indicated to a spot on the counter that Brian hadn't noticed before.

There was a pile of clothes there, including a pair of shoes that looked new.

"You and Max are about the same size now so we just guessed and I think we did okay. It'll have to last you until we can you out and find proper clothes for you. You can stay in the room at the far end, if you don't want to go home yet and I do suggest you stay for a bit, a few days so we can run some tests."

Brian nodded. "Right. I'll try to stay put this time around."

"You'd better unless you want me to tie to you that bed, MacGregor." She said smartly, turning and heading out the door. "When you get dressed, just take a right and go up the stair case and out the door. That'll bring you up to street level and into the club itself. Ask for Nathan at the bar. He'll get some food prepped for you from the kitchen."

He sat up on the bed, swinging his now longer legs over the side of the bed itself. He was about to stand up when Raven's voice caused him to stumble and scramble to grab the blanket and sheet and wrap it around himself sheepishly.

"And Brian?"

"Umm..yeah...?"

"I'm glad you made it. If you give it a chance you may find a family here that you didn't know you had."

With that, she was gone, closing the door behind her with a soft click of tumblers. Brian waited for a moment before standing up from the bed itself. Standing buck naked, he quickly moved across the cold tiled floor, and looked at the clothes Max had left for him. A white tank top, a thin long sleeved button up shirt that was kahki colored, a pair of jeans and socks. The shoes, he noticed, were brand new. They were boots, to his amusement. Dickie's Dixxon waterproof work boots to be particular he noted, seeing the familiar red and black logo with white lettering on the shoe tongue. The soft almost suede like brown leather and the hard rubberized toes, heels and soles made for a solid shoe with good support. The price tag was still on them.

He blanched as he saw it.

Jesus.

Feeling a bit guilty, he tore off the tag quickly, the thin plastic linkage snapping like paper and tossed it in the garbage. He also noticed that there was a pair of black boxer brief trunks there with the soft tag-less waist band. These appeared to be brand new as well, as they were still folded as if they had come out of the packaging holding on to that same rigidity that new clothes from a store often did. Someone had been to Wal-Mart apparently.

Dressing quickly, he pulled on the shoes and tied them snugly. His new feet felt strange but the thick socks and the support from the boots on his ankles helped considerably. Tucking the tank top into the waist band of the jeans, he pulled on the shit and buttoned it up, leaving the last three buttons open, a tiny shock of the silver fur on his otherwise shadowy chest sticking out above the neckline of the tank top. Lastly, he rolled up the sleeves of the shirt past his elbows and lodged them there. He caught a glimpse of himself in the stainless steel cabinet doors and decided it wasn't a bad look, really. He didn't look like he had tried to kill someone, not really a monster at all...except for the whole covered in jet black fur and fangs bit. His tail came out just above the waistband of his pants and was, for the moment, behaving itself.

Sighing, he realized he had to get used to this eventually, and frowned as a new sound came to his ears. A deep gurgle that made his stomach hurt.

His stomach.

He hadn't eaten in three days. He finally realized how hungry he actually was.

In his head, Brian made a list of things to do, to prioritize as his dad used to say in order to meet his goals. Goals in this case meant adjusting to an entirely new life in ways that frightened him. For now, he decided, first order was to find a bathroom and relieve his bladder which suddenly was being very insistent. Secondly, he needed food. He could feel his blood sugar dropping already. Did that ever happen before, he wondered? Was it something new?

After those were done, he thought, he needed to find Max and apologize and then, maybe then, could he start to acclimate himself with his new existence. He headed for the door and once out in the hall, made for the stairs. As he got closer to the top of the stair case, he could began to be able to hear thumping club music and felt the sonic vibrations tingle his bones and teeth. His ears perked forward of their own and the sensation felt odd. Ignoring it the best as he could, he stood before the door to that Raven said led to the club itself.

The door was plain, brown and unassuming. It was made of thick unyielding steel and had a silver push bar as a handle. Brian extended a hand and let it rest on the push bar. For a moment, a thought crossed his mind that if he stayed right where he was, that everything would be normal. That he could just let the last few days fade away, could pretend he didn't have dog ears and a tail, could just go back to being himself or better yet, just fade away into the lonely silence of the medical bay. The door, to him anyway, seemed to be a literal and metaphorical gateway and he knew that once he stepped through it, there would be no going back and that his lot was cast.

He felt a cold tickle of apprehension go down the back of his neck and he swallowed it down.

Brian made his decision.

Pursing his lips, he exhaled, forcing himself to relax, and pushed on the door handle.

_ Ready._

_ Steady. _

_ Go._

He expected it to resist in some magical way like a movie, to be stuck and give him a last moment reprieve but no; it worked smoothly, like a well oiled machine. With a click of lock tumblers, the door handle sank into its recess and the door itself swung open and Brian stepped into a whole new world.

The door itself came out into a short hallway that was light by curved light fixtures set into the walls at intervals that gave the area a warm glow. The walls here were concrete painted a deep black and the floor was similarly painted and constructed. To his left on the end of the hall way were bathrooms and to his right at the open end of the hall way, the world was a swirl of color and sound. As he stepped forward, the door behind him closed with a click and to his surprise seemed to vanish. Looking harder, his sharp eyes picked out that it was concrete over steel and had been perfectly hinged and balanced to fit seamlessly into the wall. If you didn't know it was there, once it was closed, it was basically invisible. He heard the door latch with a soft click.

Crossing the thresh hold of the hallway into the club proper was like stepping from an air lock into space. Brian's eyes widened as they tried to take in all that he was seeing as his tail twitched unconsciously.

Red, green and blue Klieg lights cast roving beams of color all over the dance floor. Swirls of white disco lights and piercing blue and green laser beams danced wildly to the thumping beats of Paul Oakenfold. The room appeared smoky, almost misty, making the lasers stand out sharply. The lights jittered and danced over him like lightning bugs on crack and the music vibrated his bones, the bass thumping hard and strong. He couldn't really see the walls or the floors but suspected they were made of concrete as well, at least this section of the club. Easier to clean he suspected as he stepped slowly out further.

What caught him by surprise was the sheer number of shifters.

There were all types here; large, small, fat, skinny, muscular and twiggish. Men and women alike were on the dance floor, their fur flying wildly as their tails, dancing to the beat, knowing only the pulse of music and the heat of life threading through their veins, connecting them in these moments of unassailable security away from the hustle of everyday life and where politics could not reach them. Ears. Muzzles. Tails. Fur. A hundred or more pairs of shimmering amber gold eyes floated in the dark, like rave paint, all seeing, all alive with the heat of life. On the stage, a DJ stood behind a control board, his hands flying expertly over the equipment as though it were an extension of him, the LED lights of the control board pulsed in time to the music as did the large wireless headphones on his head. The PIONEER logo on the control board gleamed in the jumping light. The DJ himself was a young shifter shirtless and dressed in jeans, he fit right in with the crowd. His ears were laced with silver piercings and his fur was the most outrageous thing Brian had yet seen. It was dark grey, like Max's but unlike Max's, this shifter's fur was lined with what looked like tiger strips, jet black as space, curving around his arms, wrists and torso. Squinting, Brian saw that they weren't a natural part of his body but rather were some type of tattoo. How in the hell did that even work? he thought as he tore his eyes away.

Various booths and tables were spread around the dance floor, most occupied by shifters in their wolf forms or humans (maybe shifters in human form he didn't know anymore) enjoying their drinks, sipping multi-colored beverages that smelled strongly of powerful spirits. In one booth he saw a pair of shifters, both men, sitting together. The smaller one was gray furred like Max with an earring that sparkled in his nose while the larger one had blazing orange fur. The larger shifter was built like a strength trainer and leather bands were cinched tightly around his thick biceps, his arms wrapped around the chest of the smaller werewolf, his large hands caressing through his fur. Both of them were deeply involved in an embrace as the smaller one sat on the larger ones lap, lost in their own kiss, deeply unaware of the world around them.

Feeling hot in the face, Brian looked away as he moved onto the dance floor properly, the thumping music shaking the floor, jarring his ankles. Bodies surrounded him and he felt the brief sharp stab of claustrophobia. Squashing it, he moved between the dancers, grateful for his increased night vision. At least this situation had some benefits, he thought sarcastically as he deftly moved around a shifter woman with brown fur and glowing make up on her eyelids who was so lost in her dance and the heat of her moment that she didn't notice him.

A dark form suddenly was in front of him, blocking his movement. Nearly running into it, Brian stammered an apology as the werewolf in front of him came into focus, the blue lasers dancing all over the shifters blonde fur.

The shift was built like the ginger werewolf Brian had seen in the booth, thick around the middle and arms the size of barrels that could crush a car. He wore black leather pants with a thick silver chain running from his belt loops to his pocket and a studded leather belt cinched around his waist. A black leather vest hung open on his bare chest and a collar hung around his neck with a padlock on it. An unlit cigar was situated in the corner of his mouth.

"Excuse me," Brian said apologetically as he tried to move around the stock werewolf.

The werewolf made a grunting growling sound, almost a bark.

"Heh. No worries there, handsome." The werewolf said to Brian as Brian edged passed him. As he passed the other shifter, Brian could have sworn the werewolf leaned a bit closer and inhaled deeply, his amber eyes flaring in the dark. The other werewolf's gaze lingered on him, moving up and down his body, drinking him like a cocktail. Moving quickly, Brian finally made it off the dance floor and into the bar area of the club. Here it was slightly quieter and the crowd less dense. It was also better lit, warm and inviting as opposed to the decadent lighting from the dance floor. The floor was polished hardwood and the bar itself was made of gleaming dark oak. Both of them had a mirror finish. Unlike every bar he had ever been in, the floor was free of trash and filth. A few tables and booths took up the spaces in this area and most of them were filled with shifters and the rare odd human out. The warm wood walls were adorned with rich paintings of woodland scenes and gleaming oceans. The crowd here as more subdued and better behaved he noted.

There were a few patrons at the bar, but not many. An older (at least Brian thought he looked older) silver werewolf with a handle bar mustache that was as white as snow and gray eyes that were tired, a young human woman with black curly hair and dark skin and tawny colored male shifter without a tail occupied the bar stools. Behind the bar, a mirrored wall reflected everything, creating a room within a room, highlighted by soft blue LED accents that framed the bar. A big screen television played mutely on the opposite wall, the black and white closed captions taking up the screen as a football game played.

Dozens of bottles in every shape and color imaginable lined the shelves of the mirrored bar backing. Each bottle twinkled and promised that if you partook in its sinful indulgences that your problems would vanish if you could just dance and swim in the miasmic world at the bottom of each one. But, Brian knew all too well that if you couldn't swim you drowned and those bottles had claimed their share of those who swam out too far.

Behind the bar a werewolf worked tirelessly but effortlessly, wiping out freshly washed glasses, restocking the shelf and talking gently with those of customers who walked by or could still stand and hold a conversation. The bartender himself was dressed in a black t-shirt that had the full moon logo of The Wolves Den splashed on the front with its distinct four claw marks running down behind the moon. His jeans were neat and clean and his black boots were scuff free. A white cloth hung out of one of his back pockets and around his neck was a small thin gold chain. He was a handsome man with a gentle noble face, his muzzle clean and like the rest of him, covered in a fur that looked like the most expensive blue-black velvet. On his front, extending from the entire front of his face and down past his shirt color and up his arms was a stunning white blaze of fur that remind Brian strongly of an Alaskan Husky. He had piercing ice blue eyes that were sharp and aware and he kept his tail hanging behind him, carefully controlled at all times.

As Brian approached the bar, he saw himself in the mirror and this time, it wasn't distorted only blocked by the shelving. Staring into the black furred wolf face that was now his, his own green eyes looked deep into his own self and blinking it away, he heard the bartender speak.

"Hey, man. Are you Brian?"

At the sound of his name, Brian's ears perked up and towards the sound.

"Yeah, that's me." He replied. The bartender motioned him over and pulled him aside at the bar, putting down the glasses he was wiping out.

"My name's Nathan. Everybody calls me Nate. I run the bar on Saturday night. Raven told me you'd be up. Anything you need is on the house tonight. You are one special case, brother."

Nathan's voice was smooth, deep and warm like a hot bath on a cold winter day and when he spoke, he looked directly into Brian's eyes and Brian knew he was paying attention. He's probably one hell of a bartender then, Brian thought. As Brian was about to reply, Nate suddenly looked past him, his gaze sharp and voice even sharper, flashing his pearly fangs just slightly.

"Hey! Donnie. I told you, no smoking in here. Drop it." He called to a person behind them. In the mirror Brian saw a brownish gray scrawny and well, shifty looking, shifter freeze like a deer in headlights. With a growl, he crushed the cigarette between two of his fingers and grudgingly complied. That explained the clean bar area. Nathan apparently runs the area like a well oiled ship, Brian thought, and for a moment, it made him almost smile.

"Sorry about that," Nate said, turning back to Brian. "Anyways, like I was saying, Raven pulled me aside and told me what happened," Nathan began stopping briefly as he saw Brian's ears begin to fall back towards his skull in embarrassment. He continued as if he didn't notice, deftly switching his tone. "Well, not details but enough to know that you're a unique case so to speak. Most of us are born this way. You weren't. That said, if you want, I can hook you up with some food from the kitchen and let you get settled back in."

Brian's stomach grumbled angrily and it almost hurt.

"Thanks...that'd be great." He said quietly, his face hot, wondering just who all knew about his...situation.

"No problem, man. I'll send Carrie over and she'll set you up."

Nate made a motion with his hands and let out a sharp whistle that carried over the thumping music and Brian winced at the sound. A moment later, a curvy female werewolf cropped up next to him like she had sprouted there. She too was wearing the same black t-shirt with the white club logo, jeans and sneakers. Her fur was a silky blonde-gold and her hair matched it perfectly. She kept it tied back out of her face in a loose ponytail. Her gaze was warm and vivacious, and her eyes were the color of warm honey.

She glanced up and down at Brian and pulled out a pad.

"Hey hun. You're the new guy, huh? You've been out for a few days. I bet your're starved. We got burgers, steaks, fries, fish, the works. I can get you anything almost and I'll make sure that clutz Aaron doesn't try to poison you with that slop he calls cooking."

"She's kidding. Aaron is a great chef." Nate cut in as he moved back to tending the bar, pouring a new drink for the silver werewolf with the mustache.

"Most of the time." She shot back.

"Can he do a bacon cheeseburger and steak fries?" Brian asked speculatively, his stomach prodding him insistently.

"Honey, he'll have you in burger heaven. Medium, rare, or well done?" Carrie asked, taking out a pad.

"Mediums fine, thank you."

"Gotcha. Will be back in a few, sweetheart. Don't let Nate kill you either. He makes mean cocktails."

With that, Carrie vanished behind twin swinging doors that led to the kitchen behind the bar. Nate laughed and watched her go as her behind twitched from side to side engagingly and judging by the look in his eyes, Brian thought there was probably more between Nathan and Carrie than a professional relationship. This was confirmed a moment later.

"She's a great woman. She puts up with me somehow. We make a good team." Nate said and turned back to Brian. "Anything to drink man? Screwdriver? Sex on the beach?"

Brian shook his head. "Nah. My throat would revolt, I think. If it's okay, I'll stick with Sprite."

Nate nodded knowingly. "Coming at you."

A moment later, a crystal clear tumbler appeared in front of him filled to the brim with icy transparent soda, the bubbles in it fizzing crazily. Brian could smell the sharp snap of lemon lime and his stomach hit him even harder. Giving in, he nodded his thanks to Nate and took a long drink.

Brian's first impression was the cold. It was sharper, more vibrant than anything he had ever had. The taste came next, the lemon lime making a two punch KO in his mouth the carbonation dancing over his tongue and cheeks like fairy dancers, each bubble was a spark of icy blessings. He swallowed and it hit the spot immediately. His mouth was singing praises to the oral gods that be and after a moment, he started to feel better. He never knew such ecstasy and the image of himself in a hair shampoo commercial practically having an orgasm under a shower of ice cold Sprite moaning suggestively for the cameras nearly caused him to choke from laughing. It was an absurd image but it had been an absurd few days. He didn't let the laugh out but it helped to counter balance the cloud of depression that was threatening to burst on the edges of his perception, holding it at bay for a bit longer. It helped to push back the thoughts of things he'd rather not dwell on. He thought that if he let out the laugh, that a part of him might not be able to stop laughing.

That was one of the ways he had always dealt with loss and hard times. By making jokes, cracking off color commentary or black humor, Brian had kept himself relatively sane. It had become a habit not long after the therapy stopped and he managed to find more constructive outlets for the anger as his father's death, ways to channel the blame he felt and the guilt he nursed.

His bladder reminded him it was still there with a sharp clench.

Brian motioned at Nate and told him he would be back and a moment later, he waded into the pool of dancers and headed for the bathroom.

It was because of the sight and sound overload and being lost in his own thoughts, that Brian never saw the gleaming red eyes that glowed like hot coals, watching him, listening to every word he said and that was passed between him and Nate and Carrie. The eyes watched with the hungry deadly patience of a predator, making a note of every word, every body movement as supernaturally powerful ears swiveled towards them, remembering the words for later. The eyes belonged to a huge hulking shadow that sat in a corner booth, far from the bar itself, near the exit door. The bulb over the table was broken, the only thing out of place in the entire establishment it seemed and the deep velvet blackness that had fallen over that particular table was nearly absolute. The red eyes finally blinked and the shadow moved and like all nebulous things, was gone as it had never existed, the exit door that lead to the outside swinging shut behind it in its wake.

*****

Even the bathrooms were clean, Brian thought as he left the men's room behind. He navigated his way back to the bar area and by now the thumping music had become a background noise, filtered out by his brain. The smells were a different matter. He tried not to think about them but it was difficult. He had never imagined there were so many scents to everything and some of them he didn't even recognize. He never knew that concrete had a scent and that heat did as well. It was electric, almost buzzing. One thing he noticed about the scents of people was that each one was unique. The man in the blue shirt and khaki shorts smelled different from the shifter with the sunglasses on across the room thrashing his head to the bass. If he paid attention, he found he could focus through the background sensory overload and narrow down the information that was being given to him.

The man in the blue shirt was drunk and Brian noted a sharp acrid scent wafting from what flashed in his mind as his right front pocket. It was something he hadn't ever smelled before and it intrigued him as he walked closer, he made sure to pass by the man, but not too close, on his way back to the bar area. As he passed by him, he didn't know what else to do so he inhaled deeply and that was when it hit him full force.

The scent wasn't just acrid it was purely chemical, biting and slightly sweet. He recognized it almost...a solvent? No. Gasoline? Not quite. The closest thing he could identify it as was like a jar of open diesel fuel. It made his eyes water as images flooded his mind mixed with the heady sweat of the man as he passed him. A dark room, a leather couch with holes in it, people surrounding him, the man in blue sat with a dark grin on his face, applauded by silent mimed laughter. The man in the blue shirt bent over a table with a roll of paper in his hand and there on the table before him was a pile of fine white powder that smelled of the same diesel fuel.

Cocaine.

The man was carrying a baggie of cocaine in his pocket.

Brian shot him a dirty look and then moved away as fast as he could. Damn drugs. Then the realization sunk in that he had just sniffed out drugs on a random stranger and the images...what were they? His imagination? No, he didn't think they were. Something about them seemed like distorted memory. How could he remember something he was never part of, though? Shrugging, Brian was grateful to be back in the bar area and this time he took a seat at one of the smaller empty round tables not far from the bar itself. As he went to sit down, a sharp pain shot up the back of his spine and he leaped up with a small yelp, drawing the brief raised eyebrows of the people in the booth to his left.

The tail. No. His tail.

He had forgotten he had a tail now.

It had already become so much a part of him he hadn't even thought of it. That realization shot a jolt of fear through him. It didn't seem real or possible yet it was. His face flushing hot, he nodded at the people who had already went back to their drinks and with a sigh, went to sit down again, this time, careful to stick his tail out back through the spokes of the back of the chair. The sleeves on his shirt had came down back over his elbow and he shoved them back up. A moment later, a figure appeared next to the table and with a bit of relief, he saw that it was Carrie.

"Hey darling. Aaron's managed not to burn the joint down so here you go. Bacon cheeseburger and steak fries. Medium rare."

As she spoke she expertly whipped around a white porcelain square plate and on it was the juiciest looking burger Brian had ever laid eyes on. A half a pound of pure beef, the dark grill lines seared into the cooked meat, the scent of the sharp spices rolling off it, the sight of the dropping melted cheese that oozed around the bacon and tomato nearly made him drool. The golden brown bun glazed in the over head lights. Next to the burger sat a pile of thick cut fresh steak fries, lightly salted, sizzling quietly next to a ramekin of ketchup and ranch.

A clunk of a glass and a refilled glass with sparkling Sprite appeared next to the sandwich.

"Thought you could use a refill. Anything else I can get for you, handsome?" Carrie asked, standing back from the table expectantly. Brian felt sheepish and he didn't know why.

"No thank you...I really appreciate you all doing this. You didn't have to."

Carrie smiled and as she turned to go back to the kitchen she paused and looked down at him with a warm expression. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, we've all been on hard times, every face here. You hang in there."

With that, she made her way back to her rounds and Brian free and alone now, took care of his other biological needs.

His first bite into the burger itself was paradise.

It melted in his mouth as his senses of taste and smell, now greater than they had ever been before, married into a fusion of sensation. The soft rolling textured of the bread dough, the butter blaze that was on it, the crispy snap of the bacon and the warm blanket of cheese molded together to produce sensations he had never had before as the pleasure centers in his brain began to fire, blasting off hormonal and biochemical fireworks.

It wasn't just because he was hungry, he knew on a level of awareness that sublimated his conscious mind. It was because people never realized how large a role their other senses played into the act of eating. How you could hear yourself chew and swallow; that sense of anticipation and release, that satisfaction that bordered on sexual as you bit down through a decadent desert or a perfectly cooked steak and the juices exploded onto your tongue. That was before his senses were enhanced and pushed to a supernatural level of sensitivity. Now, instead of bursts of flavor, it was supernovas of spice, the taste of the grill, the charbroiled meat making his mind fire electric strobes.

Swallowing, Brian realized he had closed his eyes and opened them, looking down at the burger in his hands and found that he was at a loss for words. When he did find words, he spoke them softly, to himself, and found that they were wholly inadequate.

"Wow. That was different."

For the next twenty minutes, maybe longer, he slowed down and took his time with his food, learning new sensations and new pleasures just from the simple act of eating. As he did the cloud of depression on the horizon in his mind began to fade because for the first time, a part of Brian understood that his new identity could open up a world of possibility, new sensation, stimulation, and a part of him that as was new silently growled in anticipation, hungry but not for food, for something more, deeper than words and alien in its meaning. Up until this point, his only conception had been of his own identity being subsumed and wiped away, but now, there was a hint of something more. Perhaps not wiped away, perhaps only re-formed. All of this occurred far from his conscious thought stream as he finished his dinner and for the first time in days, all things considered, felt normal.

M __utatio est bonum.

_ _ These thoughts began to drift up into his thought stream and Brian felt the urge to be alone. He needed a bit of space, just for a few minutes to finally lay things out and balance them in his mind. Standing up, he picked up the small mess he had made with napkins and piled them into his plate carefully. Having worked his share of restaurants, he always tried to leave his table as clean as he could. His hand went to his back pocket to get his wallet and he remembered he couldn't leave a tip because his wallet was back at Max's apartment.

Feeling guilty, he re-doubled his efforts to clean the table and when he had done the best he could, he approached the bar and Nathan came over nearly instantly.

"What can I do for you, man?" Nate asked as he nodded and waved to the silver werewolf with the mustache as he left the bar and made for the exit, stumbling a bit. Brian had to raise his voice a bit.

"Just wanted to say thanks for the food, I needed it. Is there anywhere around here I can go for...I don't know...quiet? I need a few minutes to think and I don't want to spend it in a room...I need...no walls."

Nate considered him for a moment, sizing him up and after a moment he nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen, his blue-black fur and white blaze vibrant.

"The roof. Normally don't let folks up there but Raven's vouched for you so if you need peace and quiet, that's the place to be. Go through the kitchen and take a right. Its up the stairs. If Aaron stops you, tell him to see me."

Nodding his thanks, Brian made towards the double kitchen doors.

Laying his hand upon the silver steel, he pushed and the door swung open.

The kitchen, in contrast with the rest of the club, was brilliantly lit, the floors white ceramic tile scrubbed so clean that Brian could see himself in them. Stainless steel prep tables were staffed by humans and shifters alike, moving in a crazy concert. Plates moved, dishes clanked and rattled, pans sizzles and water flowed. A set of three large industrial stoves lined one wall with gleaming hoods hanging over them. Flame roared and the scent of seared vegetables and grilled meats wafted over him and Brian felt his mouth involuntarily water again. A tall lanky human man, dressed in chef's whites with his long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail manned the stoves. He shoved his glasses back up onto his lightly bearded face as he shifted the pots and pans around so fast that Brian couldn't keep up.

"BLOODY HELL! DON'T BURN THE FUCKING STEAK!"

The voice was loud and raspy and its heavy British accent made Brian do a double take as it reminded him of Raven. Swiveling his head, Brian pinpointed the source of the voice.

In the middle of the kitchen, a tall shifter moved from station to station, shouting instructions to his staff. He was tall and lanky, at least six foot five, maybe six foot six. His features were more rounded, slender and gentle than the other shifters Brian had yet seen and his fur was an odd color, dark but not black, edging closer to a natural slate blue. His muzzle and eye brows were a lighter shade of tawny brown and a blaze of white ran down his front. A bushy tail flew behind him as he managed the crew, looking for the entire world like he was about to pop a gauge. To Brian, he resembled a collie more than a wolf.

"Come on, for fucks sake, we're running a kitchen not a school cafeteria! Jesus Christ!" the collie shifter bemoaned. Looking up, he noticed Brian moving off towards the small alcove that housed the roof stairs.

"Oi! You! Where the bloody hell do you think you're off to?" he yelled making Brian freeze where he stood, with one foot in the alcove, pinning Brian with his cool blue eyes. Feeling every gaze in the room turn to him, Brian swallowed and when he answered, his voice was meekly quiet.

"Nate told me I could head to the roof..."

Waving him off, the collie shifter went back to his kitchen, grumbling as he did.

"Fucking Christ, damn bar tender telling people what they can do in my Christ-ing kitchen. Fuck off already! I don't need any more people cruising through here. It's dangerous!"

Brian didn't know what to say so he quickly removed himself from the situation and as he mounted the stairs, he heard the collie shifter's voice again.

"Oi! You don't do that with steak you fleshy bastard!"

Fifteen steps later, Brian left the insanity of the kitchen behind as he pushed open the roof access door and stepped out into the night. The warm night air hit him and it tickled slightly as it brushed through his fur and hit his skin. More new sensations flooded his mind with the gentle caress of its kiss. The crunch of the gravel as he stepped out onto the roof itself was lost in the car honks and the sound of a distant siren. A part of thought that it wouldn't be Dawson City if there wasn't a siren wailing somewhere. To him, it was like someone had ripped Gotham City from the comic books he read as a kid, smashed it together with New York City and sprinkled Chicago in for good measure. Its gleaming skyline and soaring skyscrapers was just the upper layer of skin and below it, deep in the layers, the city wasn't so nice but it was home. It had a spirit, a sort of will that stood strong against time and like those great cities, fictional or otherwise, it had a character. It wanted to have hope, to believe but the struggle to do so was challenged every moment or every day by the hustle and bustle of six million faces trying to cut out a living and just survive.

The lights twinkled and Brian realized he didn't recognize this part of the city. It wasn't the low income area he and Max called home but it wasn't the uptown area either. Searching for a landmark, he looked to the skyline and found the Madison Genetics tower, with its gleaming walls and star-light windows standing tall and unique against the hundreds of other vertical glass boxes. He knew it was on the harbor side of town so that told him he was near the southern end of the city, probably about twenty minutes or so from his apartment.

To his left a set of air conditioning units thrummed heartily and a series of vents steamed into the night. Above, as to be expected, there were no stars. Crunching his way out across the roof, he came to the edge and leaned on the edge of the building. It came up to just above his waistline and crossing his arms, he let his head hang between them as he took in the gleaming parking lot and let his mind wander.

What is it about this situation that bothers me so much?

His mind balked. It was obvious. His best friend had died; he was on the run from gang banging drug dealers and his job--

No.

He stopped himself. Not that. That was all hurt and confusion but it wasn't the source of the disconnection in his psyche that was causing him the constant, if slightly quieter internal storm.

What it came down to, he thought, looking at his black furred hands, moving his fingers thoughtfully, seeing his muscular forearms bunch under the blanket of fur, was simple. What was causing him to have such a hard time with all of this when it came down to it was identity.

The loss of his identity.

He had always felt certain of who he was, even growing up. His life had never been simple. There had been bullies. Every kid had those. After his dad died, Brian thought carefully, walking mentally gingerly on that painful ground of landmines, his world had been shaken, fractured and split to his bones. It had broke his family and nearly tore him and his mother apart. In time, though, he admitted, he had dealt with it and processed his father's passing and the rift between him and his mother had mended, though it was never quite the same as it had been before, he thought with a twinge of sorrow.

Through that forge, he had still come out as himself. For a time, he had found that he could stand up and keep going, and then he was running, running down that highway that life puts before all of us, feet slapping the pavement. He had moved to Dawson City, secured a relatively good paying job that he enjoyed. His life was relatively good. It was stable and it allowed his reflection in his mind's eye to be what he thought it should be. It was familiar, simple and the face was his own.

Now, though...

Now the face that looked back at him in that mental mirror was not the one he knew but was his all the same. He knew that Raven was right. Deep down inside his heart, he knew that someone in his family wasn't being honest. There was no way that he had been told the truth but he thought he understood why the truth had been hidden from him. With the chaos and cruelty that every child faces in the fucking world, why would any parent want to heap more of it onto anyone? He could forgive that, he supposed. In time. He needed answers and his mother could provide them, he knew. She had to be the one to know. But going to New York at the moment was out of the question. For now.

Brian had always thought himself to be a practical kind of man and he applied a practical philosophy to his life: Fight what you can, deal with what you can't. He had applied that every day of his life since his dad died and now, he knew he would apply it here. It was the only way he could move forward. He would not give into that depression again like before when he stood next to the open grave of his father as it rained that Thursday in July.

He couldn't. If he gave into it, he knew that he wouldn't come out of it and that below that depression was a layer of anger that he had vanquished, locked away and tossed away the key. Yet that key stood before him now, gleaming made of black bone, on a mental table, ready and begging to be picked up. It would be easy to put that key into the lock, turn it and unleash it all in a torrent of red.

Mentally, the image of himself stroking that key was powerful, seductive with its siren call.

Rejecting it, he closed the mental door and looked out upon the city as it pulsed beneath him.

He would deal with this. He would find himself again, in time. Faces change. People don't, he thought. Maybe I'm still here, under all this. He could do this. He would do this. This would not knock him down. He would stand in its face, spit in it and dare it to knock him down again. It was his nature. That much was still the same. There were things that needed to be done.

The first would be to ensure that Elijah didn't die for nothing. His death would not be let go into the night. It would not be forgotten. There would be a reckoning for that crime in due time but first, he understood he needed to understand the world he was now a part of. Like it or not, his life was now a struggle and he decided then and there that he would not give in, not surrender.

A cough caught his attention.

His ears perked up so fast that he felt them pull on the meat in his head and he turned to face the sound, the fur on the back of his neck standing up in alert, his body going rigid.

The source of the sound was a shadow, standing much like he was, lost in thought, the light of the cityscape dueling the shadow of the dark over his back, turning him into a living yin-yang. Brian recognized the powerful broad back, the square shoulders, the slightly ragged ears and the gray fur, the white tank top replaced by a black undershirt and a flannel over shirt, its sleeves shoved up past the elbows. The scuffed boots and jeans were the same though. His tail hung behind him, still and unmoving, his ears pinned to his skull, like always.

Max.

His alarm quieting down, Brian stood back and made his way over. As he came closer, he saw Max stiffen and his left ear swiveled slightly and Brian knew that Max was already aware of him. Coming closer, he came up beside Max and stood next to him in the dark.

"Hey." Brian said his voice quiet.

A grunt of acknowledgement and the slightest dip of his gray muzzle was the entirety of the response he got in return but Max didn't tell him to beat nor did he turn and storm off. Brian took that to mean that he was welcome to stay where he was, for the moment. Settling in, Brian leaned onto the side of the roof's edge, his own tail moving in slow S curves.

"Didn't mean to bother you. Didn't know anyone else was up here." He said, taking a glance at Max.

Max's eyes gleamed golden in the dark and he shrugged. "You didn't bother me. I heard you come up."

Nodding silently in return, Brian stood the silence for as long as he could take it and when it was so pregnant that he couldn't stand it, he tried again.

"Raven told me what happened...what I did. I'm sorry. I don't remember much of it."

At this Max lifted his head and turned his face slightly to better see Brian. His face now in the city lights, Max's eyes faded to their ocean blue hue, the scars on his snout barely visible. The fur on his chin blew, wiggling slightly in the night breeze.

"I'll be fine. I ate ibuprofen for a few days. Doesn't help much with our metabolism. Raven offered something stronger but I don't care for it. If I can't feel the pain, I don't know my limits." He said, his hands crossed at the wrist, dangling in the empty air over the roof's edge.

The pregnant painful silence returned again. However, it was Max who broke it next.

"What was it like?"

The question caught Brian by surprise.

"Shifting. What was it like?" Max asked again, not quite meeting Brian's eyes.

Brian told him, quick jumbled flashes shooting through his mind.

"Painful. It hurt worse than anything I can compare it to. I don't remember much after it started...I just remember being so angry...angry at the pain...angry at-"

"Me." Max interjected.

Brian decided it was best to be honest with him. "Yeah. You. I just wanted it all to stop and then I passed out. I have flashes of what happened but they're all out of order. I can't make sense of any of them."

A slightly confused expression fell over his features before fading away, like most of his emotions as Max replied. "Must be different for people like Raven. It looks so easy."

"She said it was different for people like her...born into shifting. More gradual. Mine happened all at once." Brian said focusing his attention on a loose piece of concrete, fiddling with it absently.

"Can you turn back?" Max asked, trying not to look at the man beside him.

"I don't know yet. Haven't tried. Don't know how."

"Hmm." Was Max's only reply to that and he turned away from Brian entirely, lost in thought, his eyes glowing amber again now that they were back in the shadows. Brian noticed the tension in his shoulders and could practically smell the anxiety rolling off of him, the regret and the anger, the self hatred.

"I thought about...all this," Brian with reluctant forbearance, motioning his fingers to himself. "Nothing can be done but deal with it...and I've spent half my life angry and hating the world, man. I don't want to do that again. When my dad died, it nearly destroyed my world. I won't let that happen again. Don't blame yourself for what's happened...I'll survive. I'm alive."

Max snorted. "And what if you're stuck, like me? Can't ever have a human face? Can you put up with the stares, the comments, the indecency of people you'll never meet deciding what rights you do or don't have?"

For a moment Brian considered the question, idly flipping the concrete pebble over the side of the roof. He watched it sail out and fall through space and heard it hit the ground with a sharp but faint clatter. Hearing Max's words and getting through to the meat of the problem were two different things and what Brian heard when he listened had nothing to do with assholes on the street or rich old men in Washington but rather with Max's own concept of self. Suddenly he understood that Max's problem was that he felt that he had locked Brian into a life just like himself, never to know what it meant to be able to be human again.

It was a surprising mental revelation for him and Brian processed it for a few more moments before responding.

"Max, " he said, using Max's name for the first time directly to his face, "I'm not going to blame you if I can't shift back and forth. Downstairs, I ate a fucking hamburger and it blew my mind. The sensations, the scents of all those people down there, the way I can see now...I don't know how you can see it as anything more than what it is. A blessing. I thought I my identity was gone and maybe its not, man. Maybe its still there, just looks a bit different. That's all. Maybe I can explore it and see where it goes, give this thing a chance. I'm not ready to be that angry kid I was again. I never want to be, so don't go blaming yourself for this. You saved my fucking life. I'd be dead if you hadn't did what you did. My folks...well...my mom and I have a lot to talk about some time but that's got nothing on you. Shit, I'm not any good at this kind of thing...."

Brian stopped talking when he realized he was rambling.

Max didn't respond but stood still as always.

"What I'm trying to say," Brian said starting again, this time more measured, and he put out his hand. He hesitated for a moment and decided to let it fall and it landed gently on Max's shoulder, the other shifter's fur and body hot to the touch. Brian felt he powerful muscle, solid as oak, rippling beneath the skin and felt the constant tension. With his next words, Brian saw Max's ears lift away from his skull, just for a moment.

"What I'm saying, is thank you."

For the first time, Max turned and looked at him and a moment later, stood up and faced him. Brian matched his movements and they stood facing each other, barely a foot apart, eye to eye.

"I'm not a faceless person in the night. I'm real. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere and I'm saying it. Thank you." Brian said. He let his hand fall from Max's shoulder and held it out in front of him, palm open, fingers extended.

"I need someone to show me my place in all this. I can't do it alone."

Max looked down at Brian's extended hand, his face awash in conflicting emotions. Shadows swam there and in his eyes, Brian saw something flicker but he wasn't sure what it was. Apprehension? No. In his eyes, Brian saw what Max would never admit to.

Desperate longing to have something. Someone. People that were there and not ghosts, not the faceless strangers, the constant self hate and blame, and there, in all the pain in those amber eyes that were ocean blue in the daylight, Brian saw the flicker again. Hope.

For the first time, Max's ears lifted from his head and stood straight up, the night's dim light shining through the ragged bits. Max's arm moved and slowly and gingerly, Max extended his own hand. For the briefest of moments, it hung there, suspended by indecision and decades of God knew what.

Brian felt Max's hand close around his own.

With a tug, Brian pulled a surprised Max into a bear hug, slapping him on the back good heartedly. Max's body stiffened and the movement happened so fast he couldn't resist and he lay against Brian's shoulder, before pulling away, his face and eyes showing the awkwardness he felt and Brian grinned sheepishly, his pearly fangs glinting in the night.

"Not all of us go anywhere. Some of us stick around. Having a friend isn't so bad, you know." Brian told him, letting his hand go and standing next to Max in the ephemeral dark.

"Maybe." Max said and Brian heard none of the self depreciating hate but rather only a quiet contemplative cautious ....hope?

Yes. It was.

Chapter 5

Brian lay in the dark on a strange bed, alone with his thoughts.

The club was silent. Everyone had gone home, the dancers returning to their lives and the bar dark, the bottles on the shelves saving their temptations for another day. The kitchen was shadowed, the stoves unlit, the pots and pans freshly washed, hanging and glinting off of the emergency lights low gleam. Downstairs in the shelter and medical facility, Brian had been laying in the bed of the room Raven had told him to use.

_ _After his talk with Max on the roof, there hadn't been much else to say and Max had left for his apartment, promising to bring by Brian's stuff the next day. They both decided it was best, for the time being, if Brian stayed here, where Raven could keep an eye on him easier. Knowing he was pushing his limits, Brian had made a quick call to HR at work again and extended his FMLA leave. At the moment, he didn't regret being the on-time guy, the guy who never took a vacation, who stayed late. Back then it was just for the paycheck, the over time, maybe even to spend a bit of time with Elijah. Now, it was paying off in an ironic way. He had more time now. What he didn't have, he whispered in his thoughts, was any idea of what to do with it or himself. After Max had left, Brian had made his way back down through the kitchen, dodging dangerous glares from the collie shifter who ran the kitchen. Aaron? Was that his name? Or was Aaron the grill man? He didn't know.

_ _Astonishing himself, Brian had found that he was hungry again and Nate seemed to understand. Having a second round of the burger and fries had been amazing, though this time, Brian had allowed himself the indulgence of a beer. It didn't do anything more than give him a light buzz, though figuring out how not to drown in it was a challenge, he thought, shifting on the bed, resting the back of his head in his hands, staring at the ceiling. The foam on the top had given him a bit of trouble, until Nate seeing him struggle with trying to have it not go up his snout, came over and showed him how to lick the foam off the top and then down it like a pro. Nate made it look easy and after a couple of clumsy attempts, Brian mastered it. It was embarrassing but like anything else, he charged through it and owned it. It was how he was.

_ _Not long after, Brian had came down and had finally taken a shower. In the dark alone with his thoughts, he remembered seeing his new body for the first time fully naked, with nothing but himself in a moment of solitude to study and make sense of his new identity.

_ _ In the bathroom of the room he had been given, there was a full length mirror on the back of the door and having taken off his clothes, he had looked at himself fully and in those moments of silence that seemed to stretch forever, the reality of his situation began to sink in.

_ Gone were his soft amber eyes and in their place were eyes of bottle green. Now he had eyes that glowed in the dark. Gone were his familiar ears. The two new ears on the top of his head stood at half attention. He had flexed them, or tried to. They gave a little jump but that had been all. He didn't know what to expect; perhaps he had expected them to wiggle wildly. His black nose was moist to the touch and it constantly twitched, whether he wanted it to or not. He didn't even feel it as it did, he noticed. What he did notice was that when he first woke up, the first thing he had seen hadn't really been his hands but rather his nose...or was it snout? _Muzzle?

_ _ It was just...there...in the middle of his face. He noticed it but not processed it or really acknowledged it and a few hours went by before he stopped noticing it all together and it faded away in his mind. He realized now, stretching his legs and hearing his knees crack that his brain had learned to filter it out, the same way his brain had done before with his human nose. The tail was similar, he thought. In the mirror it had been perky, twitching occasionally. He found that he did have more control of it, but it had been weak, like flexing a tired muscle. Now, it lay underneath him, calm and still, the tip barely moving between his legs unconsciously. He guessed that nearly sitting on the damn thing had been hardwired as a thing not to do in his brain.

_ _He remembered tracing a hand down his thick chest, his finger ticking the fur slightly, moving onto the raised muscle of his stomach. It had been warm and solid, hard as oak yet organic and alive. He had tried rubbing his fur up against the grain and that had been almost irritating. He noticed his skin was no longer tan but jet black. The blaze of silver-gray on his belly and chest was a stark contrast to the space-black fur around it. His legs, he noted, turning in his memory, were thicker as well, much larger and more defined, streamlined with power, and he wondered how fast he could run. His feet, he thought, his toes wiggling under the blankets were the most changed. His feet themselves were still plantigrade, flat, like his old human feet, but the toes...they were more like a dog's paws, bent and facing forward. Like his hands, his feet had thick callous like black pads on the bottoms and on the undersides of his toes.

_ _He had felt sheepish and glad for the privacy of the bathroom as he examined his genitals. They were the only part of his body that lacked fur at all and the skin there was jet black and had a texture like fine velvet or silk, though as far as he could tell, both his balls and penis were hairless. His foreskin was still there and wasn't much changed except for color. Both his testicles and penis had grown significantly; where he was seven inches long and about six around before hand, he noted, fully hard, now he was nearly that size flaccid. His balls hung like weights and he knew he would need support. He had retracted his foreskin itself and saw that, with a great sigh of relief, that his penis was human in shape and form. It was nothing like dogs had. There was no knot, nothing weird. He hadn't known what to expect there either and had been afraid to really look and there was comfort in finding familiarity now, in some small measure.

_ _The last thing he remembered before showering had been running his tongue around his mouth, probing its new corners and crevices. He had done this before, just after he had woken up but now in earnest. Gone were the flat dull teeth he had sported, replaced by rows of sharp pointed teeth. He had stood before the mirror and did his best to imitate a snarling dog, baring his four curving fangs. His teeth had gleamed ivory white in the bathroom light and the look scared him. That was going to take getting used to the most, he thought, closing his mouth, wondering if he could ever smile for a picture again.

_ _The shower itself had been remarkably normal. He had found towels in the cabinets beneath the sink as well as fresh bottles of that specially formatted shifter shampoo and soap that Max had in his bathroom only these were more generic. They smelled nothing like the masculine clean scent of Old Spice but rather just smelled clean. He had scrubbed himself until his skin hurt, working his fingers deep into his new thick fur. He found that his fur was partially water repellant and by the time he was done, he was nearly sore.

_ _Afterwards, he had stood in the shower, his fur pasted to him, looking for all the world like a drowned puppy when he realized that there was no way in hell a single towel would dry him off. He had felt a momentary rush of panic; Raven wasn't there (she had apparently left to an emergency call at the hospital not long after he came up to the club) no one was. There was no one to call or ask. He had quickly scanned the bathroom sink for a hair dryer and saw nothing.

_ How the hell did Max do this?_ He had thought before an idea flashed into his mind that made him feel absolutely ludicrous and genius at the same time.

_ _Sliding the glass shower door shut tightly, he turned around and braced himself against the shower wall. He vibrated his body, moving side to side, twisting his back. Thrashing like a freaking dog, he thought, but he managed to shake off most of the excess water. Outwardly, he had felt ashamed of it, but inwardly, a part of himself had felt a tiny flash of pleasure at figuring out something about this new version of himself without being guided and he had finished drying off by hand, finishing the job quite nicely. He did find a new brush with thick bristles in one of the drawers and used it to comb his fur down and by the time he was done, for the first time, he had been entirely clean. He had found a packaged tooth brush and paste in the medicine cabinet and got rid of the scum feeling that had been lingering all night (he resisted the urger to use the foam to look like a rabid dog. It would have been too much) and he stood before the mirror again, his fur gleaming.

_ _He still didn't recognize the face, though there was little he could do about it.

_ _And so, he thought, lying naked under the sheets, this is the end of the first day of a new life. So much had happened in so little time. So much of it felt like flashes in time or a movie on fast forward where he was just a viewer but expected to participate. On the roof, he thought he had managed to come to a compromise to keep his sanity intact. There was literally nothing to do but accept it. He couldn't change it. There was no going back and there were some good perks to the situation, if he had to be truthful. Food had never tasted so good and he was pretty sure that it had to do with the synergy of his new enhanced senses rather than being starved into oblivion. There was so much to discover and yet to do so, he would to truly embrace his new life. He would have to not only embrace it but make sense of everything and rebuild the foundation he had built for himself, the same foundation that had taken pain and tears to build, built with the scars of grief and loss of his father.

_ _The world he had come from, he thought as he turned on his side, looking at the clock on the night stand that read 3:30 AM in large green numbers, was different. He never had to worry about someone freaking out over how he looked. Never had to really worry about stares on the street, never had to worry about people he didn't know making up laws to control his life. Now he did. He had came out to his mother and that hadn't been as bad as he had psyched himself out to think it was going to be but this...

_ _And that thought led Brian into another river of consciousness.

_ _Questions about his family began to pepper him. Who was the shifter in his family? How far down the line was it? Did his mom know? Why didn't he ever see them and why wasn't he ever told? He felt sure whoever it was wasn't on his mom's side. There was no way it could be. His father's side of the family however was something of a different story. He hadn't known his grandparents on his dad's side because they had died when he was just an infant and his father would never have kept something like that from him. They were closer than magnets, attached at the hip, all his childhood. They kept no secrets from each other.

_ _The uncomfortable notions that were rising to challenge his conceptions drifted like ships in the night, passing by his little island with stormy red skies of uncertainty, almost visible and too close for comfort but at the same time, always steaming away when he tried to focus on them.

_ _And it wasn't just the thoughts that his family could be hiding something from him but Elijah...he kept coming up as well. He needed to close that book but the thought of closing it terrified him with an icy jolt of panic. He had tried not to think about that particular nugget all night and had, up until this moment, been successful. Closing that chapter of his life had with it a mortal terror: the terror of absolute finality.

_ _ With a tired sigh he turned over onto his back, exhausted but mentally running marathons, crossing his hands on his chest, the most he could do is accept what he couldn't change and deal with it, he reminded himself again, more forcefully. The rest would come in time, just like he had thought on the roof. Laying in the dark thinking himself to death over it wasn't going to fix anything. He made up his mind to call Ellie tomorrow. Brian had not been able to prevent Elijah's death but he damn sure made up his mind to be there to say goodbye, no matter how painful it was. He expected that the funeral was already over and wondered if Ellie would even speak to him. He hoped she would understand, though what he would tell her eluded him. A part of his mind stabbed him hard and told him it would be best to tell the fucking truth.

_ _As his body finally began to shut down against his brains fever paced thought ravaged highway, a final image and thought floated up into the darkness and held there with unusual clarity.

_ Max._

_ The images and flashes I've been seeing are from his past...but how?_

_ _Brian had no answer but knew one thing with absolute certainty. Whatever Max had done that night to save his life, whatever special bio-chemical exchange had occurred it had bonded the two of them in a way that Brian didn't understand and that he wasn't sure Max was even aware of. What he was going to do with this revelation, Brian couldn't say because his eyes had closed, too heavy to keep open and with a final tired sigh, he passed from semi-consciousness and into the world of sleep and thankfully, he thought later, he did not dream and instead was met with a peaceful oblivion.

***************************

_ _Calvin Hobbs, forever made fun of for his unlikely name, woke up with a start, breathing in sharp ragged gasps.

_ _ The dark was the first thing he saw. The biting cold of the metal was the first thing he felt. Fear, was the first thing he tasted. His head rang like Sunday church bells and he saw flashes of red and yellow stars that danced in the darkness in front of his eyes. His back ached and he found that the biting metal was around his ankles and wrists.

_ _With a shot of acrid panic, Calvin understood he was tied down, restrained on some flat hard surface, the unforgiving inflexible steel not caring. He knew he wasn't horizontal because he could feel the slight tug of gravity on his swollen ankles. He was vertical then. He blinked and the darkness did not go away. His heart sped up, his pulse threading through his veins at light speed. He was blind. He had always been afraid of being blinded, even more than death itself. He had nightmares about it ever since he had met the blind man when he was seven, the blind man with the white eyes, unseeing and cold, the wrinkled hand with the grasping talon like fingers, reaching towards him.

_ _ He whimpered involuntarily, his stubble-laced jaw trembling in fear as he moaned. Anything but being blind.

_ _The last thing he remembered was being a deal. A late night deal but that wasn't strange. The pigs stayed towards the inner city streets at night, the budget not allowing them to send more than a token patrol car or two down where the people like Calvin Hobbs nested like a cancer in the cities innards. He heard his heart thumping in his ears, felt it in this throat. Panic washed over him with dead hands.

_ _It was the deal. It had gone bad. That had to be it. He was making a sale. The buyer had been a woman with dark features, black hair, deep brown eyes and soft skin. He had thought about prepositioning her, offering sins of the flesh in exchange for what he normally sold for a grand or more. She had flirted with him sent him the signals, her face so beautiful in the flickering of the burning trash barrel, the fire dancing in her eyes in a way that seemed almost inhuman. It had seemed devilish, hellish, even. He liked Hell. Calvin remembered thinking if she was the devil, then he'd give away his soul.

_ _She had asked questions about the product; not the usual questions and for a moment, he had became suspicious as she worked her way closer to him, her large ample breasts bouncing in her tight white shirt. She was asking things cops asked. Where did he get it from? Who were his buyers? Could she get in on the take?

_ _He had done as many back flips as he could, deftly avoiding most of her questions until suddenly the world had gone dark. Well that wasn't true. Not strictly speaking. First, he had felt something close around his chest like a python, squeezing his ribs until he heard them crack and something came out of nowhere, jammed over his mouth as a bitter sharp chemical scent shot up his nose. As blackness had come for him, he remembered the woman's eyes change. Their rich brown color began to burn, shimmering into the ember gold of a yellow flame.

_ _Then he had woken up here. Blind. Alone and tied up to some goddamn table, stood up like a fucking deer on a dressing table.

_ _ "HELLO?!!!" he screamed, his voice hoarse and painful. His mouth was dry, his throat irritated. His eyes watered as he yelled again, and yet again, there was no answer.

_ _ "HELLO?! IS ANYONE THERE?? WHAT THE FUCK--"

_ _A light snapped on with a crackle of electricity, and a brilliant cone of florescent white flared to life in the darkness. It was a single spot light, a few feet from him, the source lost in the darkness ahead, appearing to him as a single solitary sun. The rest of the world remained as pitch black as a coal mine.

_ _At first, a flood of relief came over him. He wasn't blind. Then his mind began to scream warning alerts as he realized whomever had did this to him was here with him, in the dark, where he couldn't be seen.

_ _ Blinking away the stars from the sudden illumination, Calvin stared into the darkness beyond the light, trying to see anything, something. There was nothing.

_ _ A shadow moved in the darkness.

_ _No, not a shadow; not a shadow at all. A shape, a form so dark and solid that it was like the darkness itself had came alive and was stalking him. A living shadow person made of darkness so dark that light simply died on contact. It moved, slowly, deliberately, from his left.

_ _He heard its footfalls as heavy resonant singular sounds. The ground crunched beneath the footfalls. He felt the heat as it passed, like smoke. He heard its breathing and it was deep, regular, like horse or a large animal, the lungs that sound belonged to were monstrous.

_ _The shape continued on, just outside of the light and came around behind him.

_ _ He felt its face come around the back of the table, slowly move its snout within centimeters of the soft exposed flesh of his neck. It sniffed, inhaled twice and hung there.

_ _Calvin felt his brow break out in a cold sweat and his hands and arms screamed, begging to be used to push it away from his neck only to be met with the stifling claustrophobia of being tied down.

_ "_Please...." He begged and the shape moved away, melting into the obsidian dark.

_ _ It walked around him and stood this time in front of him fully, standing just outside the light. Its form was clearer now, so close to the lamp. Calvin could make out its lines. He saw the squared shape of shoulders, the long bulging shape of powerful arms that ended in human like hands that-

_ Oh dear God...fuck me..._

_ ---_ hands that hand long fingers tipped with curving razor sharp claws that glinted in the light. The legs were thick and the entire shadow stood so tall that its head must have been close to seven feet off of the ground.

_ _The shadow looked at Calvin for the first time straight on and he nearly screamed.

_ _Twin red eyes the color of hot coals flared to life in the shadows, pinning him like an insect to a paperboard.

_ "_Mr. Hobbs, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

_ _ The voice that came from the shadow beast was deep, and its bass vibrated Calvin's cheek bones. It wasn't raspy or crackly, but smooth and lacked any accent at all. It commanded authority and it dripped with poison.

_ _"I have reason to suspect that you and your associates have come into possession of some of my product and I would like to know how you obtained it."

_ _With that, the figure stepped into the light and Calvin felt his bladder clench.

_ _The figure was a werewolf, a fucking shifter. He did in fact tower over seven feet high and was broad, his body carved in pure muscle from his thick neck to his swollen calves. He lacked the tail of most shifters and his face...his face was that of a wolf, his snout broad and his skull huge. His ears were pinned back along his skull and his jet black hair was smoothed back into the rest of his fur. Thick black eyebrows lay over his eye sockets and those eyes, those blazing red eyes.

_ _He wore an open black leather vest, no shirt and black military fatigue pants tucked into heavy combat boots. A combat knife was sheathed at his right side. As he came closer, Calvin saw that his fur was a deep crimson red, no, darker, almost maroon, the color of freshly dried blood. Layered within the blood color were hints of black. Finally, the gigantic werewolf with the blood red fur stood fully before him, his imposing figure eclipsing the light, giving him a corona that made the tips of his fur transparent orange-red. It made him look like he was on fire.

_ _Up close, Calvin could smell him. He smelled like blood. Coppery. He smelled like gunpowder. He smelled like death.

_ He was death._

_ _ "I don't know what you're talking about, man...I push lots of shit....just let me go..." Calvin said, surprised to hear the shaking fear in his voice. He never liked dealing with these shifters. It freaked him out.

_ _The shifter didn't move. Instead, his eyebrows came together slowly. His scarlet eyes continued to burn holes through Calvin. Calvin for a fleeting moment, had the terrifying impression the werewolf could read his thoughts. With a deliberate gentility, the werewolf reached into his pocket and withdrew between his thumb and index finger a transparent glass vial.

_ _The vial looked terribly small in the huge hands as his claws clinked against the glass.

_ _Inside the vial, a thick liquid sloshed gently. The fluid glowed an eerie iridescent blue.

_ _ "You're saying, Mr. Hobbs, that you have never heard of the substance called Wolfs Bane? Not once in your entire life of selling crack to junkies, trafficking women to pimps and pampering your meth addicts, day in and day out?"

_ _The shifters voice caused shivers to run up and down Calvin's spine.

_ _"No...No man. Never have."

_ _Nodding the shifter carefully put the glowing vial back into his pocket.

_ _ The shifter attacked.

_ _ Before Calvin could process what was happening, the shifter moved. It was blindingly fast. The red blur descended on him and he felt his wind pipe close off as fast as if he had cinched off a garden hose. He felt himself yanked forward, the restraints biting harshly into his skin, his wrists beginning to bleed in the cuffs. Calvin felt his bladder let go and warmth flooded his trousers.

_ _Calvin was now eye to eye with the shifter, the huge werewolf's pearly fangs a millimeter from his face. Calvin scented blood on the shifter's breath and nearly fainted even as he began to see saws as the pressure on his throat increased tenfold.

_ _ "Do not lie to me, Mr. Hobbs. I don't like it. I can smell your fear...you've pissed yourself from it."

_ _The voice so close rattled his teeth.

_ _Holding Calvin's neck with just enough pressure to prevent him from passing out but with enough force to remind him who was in charge, the shifter's free right hand came up in a fist and he extended his index finger, the claw coming to rest softly on Calvin's jugular. He could feel the hardness sharpness pressing into his skin.

_ _The shifter never lost eye contact with Calvin, never blinked as he began to move the claw down Calvin's side, tracing the contours of his body. The claw followed left Calvin's neck to follow the lines of his shoulders, up and over and down his arm, passing his elbow and stopping at his forearm. Calvin tucked his forearm closer to his body and the shifter noticed. Placing his claw on the inside of Calvin's forearm, he pushed, and Calvin resisted, failing. The pressure was too much. He was too strong.

_ _Laid bare now in the light was the tattoo that branded him as an 86er in stark black and white contrast. The shifter's eyebrows moved up a bit and he rested his claw on the center of the brand.

_ _Calvin's fingers on that hand twitched involuntarily towards his own pocket.

_ _Hoping the shifter wouldn't notice, Calvin's hopes were dashed as the werewolf's scarlet eyes dropped to catch the movement. Looking back up at Calvin, the shifter moved Calvin's forearm aside, and moved further down, tracing the line of Calvin's leg, stopping just above the pocket in loose cargo pants.

_ _With a suddenness that seemed so far beyond human that it had no comparison, the werewolf dug his claw into the fabric of the pocket and yanked down in a single slice. The fabric of the pocket split instantly, loudly ripping. Coins spilled to the ground along with folded stacks of dollar bills in rubber bands. A crack pipe clinked away as it fell.

_ Clink._

_ _The sound of something made of glass, thick laboratory glass, was unmistakable and Calvin knew it was over. The shifter's eyes glided to the floor and widened in confirmation of what he seemed to already know.

_ _There, lying in the pile of refuse and ill gotten cash from Calvin's pocket, lay a thick rounded glass ampoule filled with a thick glowing blue fluid. The shifter bent to retrieve it, his hand never leaving Calvin's throat. Raising back up, the shifter's eyes found Calvin's again and as he spoke, his fangs gnashed inches away from Calvin's nose.

_ _"Mr. Hobbs, I seem to have discovered an inconsistency," The shifter said and Calvin suddenly found it very hard to draw breath. He saw the stars return and the perception around the corners of his eyes darkened. The pressure did not alleviate and grew worse and darkness threatened to eat him whole.

_ _"Where do you get your supplies of my product?" the shifter asked again, this time his voice carried more than a veiled threat. It silently screamed murder. The shifter's hot grasp on his throat became worse.

_ _Calvin fought for air, his eyes flashing, his heart thudding wildly, hammering in his chest. It was going to explode. The pressure increased on his throat and he heard the bones in his neck crunch alarmingly.

_ _"FINE!! I'LL TELL YOU!!" He choked out, tears running from the corners of his eyes, tasting blood in his mouth.

_ _The pressure lessened but only by a fraction.

_ _ "A shifter...some...dru...drug...deal...drug dealing shifter...I don't know his name...had brown fur and..."

_ _"And?" the shifter demanded, the pressure suddenly back with a vengeance.

_ _"....he had...one blue eye....one yellow...I don't know anything else for fucks sake..."

_ _The pressure was gone.

_ _The shifter satisfied pulled away, moving into the shadows, leaving Calvin to gasp for breath, the stars in his vision abating after a moment. When he could breathe again, Calvin looked around, desperately trying to find the shifter.

_ _ The room was empty. The red eyes gone.

_ _"Let me go man...I'll stop...I swear to fucking Christ....no more..." Calvin yelled weakly into the dark.

_ _ The light snapped off, plunging him into darkness and unable to help himself, Calvin screamed.

_ _Moments ticked by as his heart went like a jack hammer, pulse thundering past his ear drums. He felt faint.

_ _The silence seemed to be eternal.

_ _The darkness was absolute.

_ _There was a crunch next to him, the crunch of booted feet on a gritty floor.

_ _A silent movement with the speed of sound and a blinding pain exploded in his arm. Holes erupted, four of them, puncturing deep into the sweaty meat, tearing his bicep to shreds. Blood gushed and Calvin screamed. He felt the heat of breath and the wet saliva of a tongue.

_ _ The shifter had bitten him.

_ _ As Calvin screamed, white hot agony shot up and down his arm, setting his nerves ablaze. The shifter had withdrawn and the next thing he knew, Calvin's restraints were gone. He found himself dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, covered in his own blood. His faced slammed into the filthy floor and he felt his teeth rattle.

_ _Calvin tried to stand but unconsciousness swept him away.

_ _ When he came to, he was truly alone. The light had been turned back on but he could hear nothing and see no hint of the red eyes. He could sense it. They had dumped him here. The shifter hadn't killed him, just bit him. Fucking bastard...

_ _He smelled urine and felt disgusted with himself. Like a fucking child. He had no idea how long it had been since he had been out of it. What he did know is that his arm was hurting badly. He had been by dogs before but this was different, deeper, hotter and Calvin lifted his arm up to inspect it, to take stock of the damage.

_ _He screamed again, this time not out of fear but unhinged horror.

_ _ The muscle and skin around the bite wound had turned a deathly shade of blackish-gray. It looked dead. Thick black veins ran from the wound up and down. He tried to move the arm and found he couldn't. A thick viscous reddish fluid ran from the wound, tinged with black. He had to get out of here and get help.

_ _Calvin forced himself to stand and immediately collapsed, vomiting hard, landing in his own puke with a hot wet splash.

_ _Revolted, he dragged himself up and wiped his face.

_ _ His hand came away stained with his own vomit, cherry red, and in the red were thick chunks and ribbons of scarlet flesh.

_ _ Whimpering sounds of fear mewled from his lips and he found he couldn't speak words anymore. All that came out was a gibbering crying sound as he realized he was seeing chunks of his own innards. He was throwing up his own liquefied organs.

_ _Calvin felt water come out of his eyes and he knew he was crying as he crawled away from the light, looking for a door, screaming for help in increasingly desperate high pitched moans.

_ _ He couldn't see and wiped away the tears.

_ _ The back of his hand came away stained red.

_ _Jolting pain from his insides drove him flat the floor and with a violent spasm, Calvin coughed explosively.

_ _Red mist filled the air and his head had spikes driven into his brain as he coughed again, spitting up more red fluid, only now it was laced with streaks of black.

_ _The coughing didn't stop. It got worse. Calvin's vision flickered and he lost feeling in his legs and found himself suddenly paralyzed as his body stopped obeying his commands. Terrible blazing hot shivers ran up and down his spine as bloody sweat leaked out of his pores.

_ _The coughing became his world and a moment later, he felt a tiny explosion that quickly grew in his chest that came with a sickening wet popping sound. One of his lungs just popped like a balloon and collapsed.

_ _ He was hot. So hot. Burning alive. His insides were cooking. He could smell them. He would catch fire any moment he knew and tendrils of smoke did start to steam out of his ears, nose and mouth as his teeth fell out in white rubbery chunks, melted and diseased.

_ _ Just before his heart exploded, Calvin's vision went and his fear became a total ubiquitous reality that he could not escape: he was blind, his eyes melted away into boiling white jelly. The realization would have caused him to go into more panic at the sheer nightmarish prospect but now, the last conscious thoughts he had were that he wanted it to be over. He wanted to die.

_ _Five minutes later, he got what he wanted as his bleeding corpse fell still and the last spastic jerk ceased. The light went out, leaving the room in darkness and silence resumed its sway over all.

***************

"I need you to sit still, please." Raven said gently as she ran her fingers through the fur on Brian's left side, the ticklish feeling making him nearly erupt in laughter. He was embarrassed and bit back the urge as best as he could.

"Can't help it. Fucking tickles like hell." He said through gritted teeth.

"Well, this is the last one so just...stick...through it. There." She replied, stepping back, satisfied as she poked the final electrode sensor pad to his skin, the fur sticking out at an odd angle. He was covered in the little white and blue sticky pads, and from each pad ran a wire back to a portable electrocardiography machine. The machine itself was high tech with a touch screen and a small printer.

For the last several hours, Brian had been subjected to several scans and medical tests and more needle sticks than he could shake a stick at. He had woken up that morning to find that Raven was already in the shelter infirmary and she had brought breakfast for the two of them. The scent of bacon and eggs and sausage on buttered country biscuits had been mesmerizing and it had been even better, hitting the spot just right. Normally, Brian wasn't a morning person but hey, free food was free food and he found that his appetite had increased significantly. However, judging by the quality of the fare and the fact that Raven was so early on a Sunday made him slightly suspicious and not long after they had eaten, she announced to him that she needed to run her tests today, now that he was awake, to get a baseline of his new metabolic systems. Max he noted hadn't been by yet. Brian had tried to call Ellie from the club phone but she still wasn't answering.

And so, he glanced at the clock on the wall, it was now past one in the afternoon. The lab of the infirmary was small, just slightly bigger than the treatment room and it was stocked with compact and mobile versions of most medical diagnostic gear, including a blood testing lab, several computers, a new type of flat portable x-ray that Brian had never seen before and of course the EKG machine.

"Brian relax...I need to get your heart rate baseline...just breathe in and breathe out..." she admonished him, noticing the spiking graph of his electrocardiogram was chaotic.

"Sorry." He said and genuinely made a concerted effort to sit still.

He sat on a hospital bed, the tank top Max had let him borrow crumpled in a pile and he was back in the jeans and boots that had been left for him. A moment later, Raven came tapped a few commands and the EKG beeped obediently. She had a print out in her hand and tore the paper from the machine with a swift rip.

Studying it, he watched her eyes narrow. In human form, he noticed she was a bit shorter than she was when she shifted. In fact, she was smaller on the whole as a human than when she triggered her transformation. Curious he brought it up.

"Got a question."

She didn't look up at him, running a pen along the sinus rhythm on the read out, tracing the peaks and valleys. "Hmm?" she asked, almost absently, but not rudely. She was deep in concentration.

"When you change...you get taller. Bigger than you are now...how do you not shred the hell out of your clothes when you do that? My clothes got obliterated and if it hadn't been for the magic Hulk pants, I would have been ass naked on the ground." He continued, watching her as she paced.

A grin turned up a bit on the side of her full lips. It was small but genuine.

"You practically were naked and I've seen more of you than I ever thought I would and care for, might I add, but the solution is rather simple. You simply buy your clothes a size or two bigger. When you shift you just fill them out." Raven replied, tapping the readout as she moved over to the X-ray tablet. Keying it up, she checked the images on it. Brain saw the translucent white images of his ribs, spine and upper body on the screen as she did so, still in shock over how different his anatomy was. Overall it looked human in form but the bones were much thicker.

"Brian, I hate to say it but you are a complete picture of health, more or less." She said, putting the tablet and the print out down on the counter. She leaned against it and crossed her arms, locking eyes with him. Her expression however told him there was a "but" coming.

"But...?" he asked, picking the EKC leads off of his body, wincing slightly as they adhesive pulled on his fur, thinking that he had thought his chest and belly hair were sensitive before, but damn, it was worse now that he was covered from head to toe. Smoothing out the rough patches, he returned his attention to her, setting the wires and leads aside.

"But...there are some anomalies. Your heart, for example is one of them. Its larger than most shifters and pumps more efficiently. Your metabolism is fairly active, rather more so than other shifters I've studied. As you've noticed your core temperature runs hotter than 98.6. You, seem to run about 102 degrees as a baseline. My guess is that your metabolic rate drives that. You'll want to eat a bit more to make up for that as you don't want to lose the considerable muscle mass you now have. You can still go into starvation mode so be mindful."

"Ok so I'm literally hotter than most people you know." He said, brows raising and a slight grin appearing on his face.

"Oh please," she said with a small laugh. "But yes, you are. Literally. Your bones are also more dense and in fact, the DEXA scan and the mineral density test I ran indicates that your bones and by extension your teeth and claws have naturally occurring carbon fiber reinforcements running through them and they are practically unbreakable. I've never seen anything like it in medical history. And lastly, there is a protein in your blood that I've never seen before on any medical panel in shifters or in humans. Its not harmful and in fact appears to be a part of your normal bio-chemical make-up. As to what it is or its purpose, I don't know. It's not normal. None of this is normal, Brian. You've been through a hellish ordeal and you've not had a freak out yet. Are you okay, emotionally? I'm no psychiatrist, but I need to know these things. "

He thought about it. Was he okay? So much had happened and so much had changed and here he was at the center of it though he admitted that a good nights sleep, good food and the support he'd had so far had greatly improved his stance on the situation. If he had been left to his own devices, he genuinely believed he would have lost it by this point. Whereas he had been steady in his life before, maybe a part of him was longing for a change, a break, a new path to walk. He couldn't say for sure so he didn't say anything at all. He didn't know how big a part of himself that was and for the time being he was taking it day by day and the mental revelation in that second that he may not have been totally happy previously struck him harder than he thought.

"I'm fine, I guess. I can't change it so why spend time worrying about it. If I worried about it, I'd go crazy in an hour. I'm dealing but anyway... what are you saying about me medically?" he asked, concern lacing his voice like a lattice.

She didn't care for him dodging the question but she had no choice but to take him at his word. Sighing, she told him the truth.

"Honestly? You are the most unique lycanthrope I have ever studied or worked with to date and you are in fact, not only a medical marvel but a medical mystery. That said, I can't really advise you beyond eat a good amount, stay hydrated--"

A quick knock at the door of the lab and the door hissed open a moment later. A familiar face appeared in the open door crack. Gray furred muzzle and blue eyes.

Max.

"Sorry. Interrupting?" he asked sheepishly.

"No," Raven told him. "We just finished. I've been at him for hours. He's as healthy as a horse. Or several horses for that matter."

Brian motioned for Max to come in and with a silent nod, he did, the door hissing shut behind him on its hydraulic hinges. Brian noticed he was dressed differently. Nearly every day, Max seemed to wear a variant of a tank top and old jeans. Today, he wore a clean navy t-shirt, black jeans and clean boots. His nails were cleaned and his fur seemed freshly shampooed. He smelled strongly of Old Spice Wolfthorn.

"What is wrong with you?" Raven asked, directing her voice at him.

Max's ears flattened instantly. There was that defensive screen again.

"What?" "You." Raven said, uncrossing her arms, looking him up and down. "You actually cleaned up. You don't smell like motor oil and your hands are clean. Your aren't in a tank top. Do you need an evaluation?"

Frowning at her, Max shot back. "I don't always try to be scum, you know. Maybe I just felt like cleaning up today. Only had one customer today. Was an easy work day so I closed up the shop early."

Hmmphing, Raven turned away from the two of them and closed down her equipment, winding the cables back into a spool.

"Well, I'm finished with him for now. I'm sure you may want to head over to Brian's apartment. I'm sure he'd appreciate some of his own clothes and Draco is supposed to be home today around five. I'd suggest we all meet up at the manor and see what he says. He's got the most experience out of any of us. I have to get back to the hospital for a while."

Max frowned, hearing the worry in her voice. The way she said that last bit spoke volumes.

"What's going on at the hospital?" Brian asked, beating him to the punch.

"You know the patient that you and Mr. Connors carried out? There have been three more of them since you woke up here. I had to leave last night and treat one. He was the first. Two more of them came in after. All of them were gang members or long term addicts." She replied, turning back to face them, her face dark.

"Is it the same drug?" Brian asked, standing from the bed and pulling on the tank top, hitching up his pants. They were a bit loose on him since Max was a bit larger than he was, though not by much.

She nodded. "It appears to be. The symptoms are similar to an amphetamine over dose: Hyperactive strength, mania, pupils that don't respond to light. Two of them died. The last one is in a coma in critical care. Blood work showed a frightening level of toxicity and a mild radioactive trace but we can't identify it. The labs been working on it all night and so far, we have nothing. We may be dealing with an entirely new street drug." Raven nodded to both of them as she left. "Lock up, boys. Max, you have keys. I'll see you at Draco's tonight."

"Wonderful." Brian added, turning to face Max. "So, uh, you feel like heading to my place? It'd be nice to get my own clothes...if I have any that fit still. I mean..I'm grateful and all, but...you know..." he said.

Snorting, Max agreed. "Yeah. I know. You need something that's familiar. I feel you. Nah, I don't mind. I brought your bag and gear that was in it. Its in the truck. We can head over to your place now if you like. I don't think you have to worry too much about the 86ers. As far as they know, you're dead. They won't recognize you like...this."

Max indicated Brian's ears, snout and tail.

"Good point. Let's head over. You got a GPS because I have no fucking clue what part of the city I'm in." Brian said as they left the shelter and exited through the club's side door. Max locked it behind him.

It had been days since Brian had been outside, let alone felt the sun. It felt wonderful, warming his skin beneath the fur, heating him up and charging him like a battery. The sky was finally free of clouds and it was a brilliant day. The buildings gleamed in the warm solar radiance and traffic was tolerable. A few people walked by on the side walk but paid them no mind.

As they approached Max's parked truck, Max used the key fob to unlock the doors. Hopping in, Brian felt the warmth of sun kissed leather upholstery warm his behind as he sat down in the passenger seat, the leather squeaking a bit. Careful to not sit on his tail or close it in the door, he brought he door itself shut with a solid thunk. Through the windshield, he got his first look at the club from the outside.

It was a squat building, at least two stories tall constructed of grey-black brick trimmed neatly with well maintained hedges and a spotless parking lot, clear except for a lone plastic bag aimlessly drifting in the mid afternoon breeze. The double front doors sat locked and still and above them, the club's logo was rendered in bold neon glass. At the moment it was dark. The upper floor must have been unused, Brian thought since the infirmary and shelter were underground.

The truck bounced as Max hopped behind the wheel, the door clunking shut behind him. This close to him, Brian noticed his scent was over powering: Clean, sharp and masculine. It stirred something deep inside him but he shoved it aside. He found his eyes moving unconsciously over Max's thick arms, hard as oak banisters, over his powerful but skilled hands, down to his legs, the jeans fabric fitting snuggly and then over into tight spaces, bulging in areas he had no place looking.

Brian suddenly realized what he was doing and mentally kicked himself.

That was out of left field. What the hell? He thought. His face flushed hot and he hoped Max hadn't noticed. Ashamed he quickly turned his face away, his ears dropping to his head.

Max caught the motion.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his rough deep voice louder than Brian knew it could be in such close quarters.

"Nothing, man. Just lost in thought."

Nodding silently, Max reached into his jeans pocket and a moment later, he pulled out a phone, a Android and a Galaxy Note 3 from the looks of it, Brian noticed. He saw the phone itself was in a battered Otter-box, the screen scuffed and dented, the orange black impact casing showing its fair share of war scars.

"I'm not a total barbarian," Max said as he entered the lock screen key pad. He deftly navigated to the maps app and once it was pulled up, he addressed Brian without looking at him, thumbs poised above the keypad.

"Where we headed?"

By rote, Brian told him, glad to have a change of subject to think about anything else other than what just happened. He was glad Max didn't seem to notice.

"1456 East Ash Street. It's the Imperial Terrace apartments."

Max tapped the screen, tiny clicks issued from the phone and a moment later, he locked the phone into the phone holder that was affixed to the windshield. Adjusting the gooseneck on the holder, Max keyed the ignition and a moment later, they bounced into traffic and were on the road.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the building that Brian had called home for two and a half years now. As Max pulled the truck to a stop at the red light just before the turn off into the apartment parking lot, Brian saw Max appraising the building, albeit silently and he felt a bit self conscious and he didn't know why.

Imperial Terrace Apartments were brown stone apartments built back in the 1940s. The apartment building itself was six stories high and the outside, while not pristine was kept moderately clean. The manager and land lord (who also happened to own the place), Edna Sullivan, usually kept a tight ship. She was a piece of work at sixty six years old and still mean as a wet cat. She took no bullshit and gave no bullshit. That said, Brian thought dryly, she wasn't so bad once you got past the exterior; it was just the getting past the exterior bit that was the challenge. He was grateful that he was paid current on his rent this month and had been for every month he had lived there. He had never wanted to be on her bad side, considering her bad side was the stuff of apartment legend.

The front patio ran half the length of the front of the building, the gray-white cement weathered by many hot days and cold nights. Small hedges accented the front behind a metal chain link fence. Brian saw a thin rangy man with scruffy gray hair and rumpled clothes come out of the front door and head off down the side walk.

Edward "Ed" Conover. The man was a hopeless drunk yet somehow he managed to never kill himself going up the apartment's interior stairs as he had a deathly fear of elevators and the one that ran inside the complex was nearly as old as the building itself.

"Good. There's a street parking spot. Its good for two hours. Otherwise you'd have to park in back and that place can be shady as fuck." Brian said, nodding towards the open space through the windshield. Once the light turned green, Max eased the big truck into the spot expertly and the engine died quietly, pinging as it cooled.

"So, this is home, huh?" Max asked, sliding his seatbelt off.

Brian felt that shot of self consciousness flush his face. Shaking it off, he charged through it. "Yeah, ever since I moved here from Carsonsville two years ago. Maybe longer, I don't know. I stopped counting after a while."

"This city will do that to you," Max replied, his voice heavy, pulling his phone from the holster on the windshield and pocketing it.

For the next few moments that felt like an eternity, both of them sat in the truck, unsure of what to say or do. Unable to bear the tension any longer, Brian broke it.

"So, you want to come up? I've been up in your personal space now for almost a week. Only fair to return the favor." He said, as nonchalantly as possible. He watched as Max's ears lowered a bit closer to his head and he noticed his tail twitch a bit.

"Um...Yeah...I reckon I can."

With a dual thunk of doors, they were outside and up the patio stairs, the people on the side walk passing them by without so much as a thought. Shouldering his bag that he had grabbed from behind the truck seat, Brian reached out and slapped the handicap button and the double doors that led into the building slid open grudgingly.

The foyer of the building was lined with individual mailboxes. The boxes themselves were industrial grade steel painted beige with heavy locks sealing them shut, each marked with a number. Brian paused, reached into his ruined duffle bag and dug around. Behind him, Max stood, taking up an enormous amount of space it seemed in the cramped foyer as the doors hissed closed them, sealing them into what appeared to be a glass box.

As he dug for his keys, hoping they were still in the bag, Max's scent caught Brian again, this time even more strongly in the closed in space and the heat of the small room.

He felt his heart skip a beat and his blood pressure increase.

Max smelled like his body wash but also like sunlight and snow, arctic ice and trees, like hot energy and something deeper Brian couldn't pin point as the mental images flashed through his mind, actually causing him to gasp quietly. He felt his body begin to react in a way that he knew felt familiar and strange all at once.

"Hey, you okay?"

Max's voice from behind him shook him out of the trance and Brian quickly replied he was.

"Sorry, thought I had lost my keys." He lied, finding them a moment later. He pulled them from the bag and quickly found his number, Unit B4, and open his mailbox.

Inside was the usual collection notices and spam. Not bothering to even look at it, Brian grabbed it and shoved it unceremoniously into his bag and with a loud clang, he shoved the box closed and relocked it.

"This way." He said quietly, eager to move on from whatever just happened (keeps happening, his mind chimed in) as he led Max through the second set of doors and into the apartment lobby. The lobby itself was nondescript as it possibly could be with white tile floors and old wood panel walls. Sconces that had been ornate back in the 50s lined the walls are intervals. Ornate then, tacky as hell now, Brian thought, desperately trying to think about anything other than where his mind wanted to go. On the back wall was a thick wooden door with a heavy dead bolt and a peep hole. A brass drop box was about half way down the door and the brass metal letters on it read "OFFICE."

Below it on a white laminated sheet were the hours and the emergency numbers. Silently hoping that Edna was out for the day and already up in her personal unit on the third floor, Brian made for the elevator, pushing the button to go up. It lit with a weak white light that had long ago faded to beige. The elevator didn't seem to come and if it was, it was taking it slow time, Brian thought, nervously looking at the office door handle.

With a distorted and aging ding, the elevator did arrive as the faded doors slid open.

Stepping in, Brian squeeze as far as he could into a corner as Max entered, trying to keep as much space as he could between them without seeming obvious. It started again, the scent wafting into his snout. The fur on the back of his neck stood up.

Sighing, he quickly pushed the button for the second floor and held his breath. Literally; it was the only way to stop the scent from overcoming him. What was that? He wondered to himself. He saw Max glimpse at him with an odd look on his face.

Probably things I'm fucking nuts, Brian thought derisively.

With another weak ding, the elevator doors opened and deposited them onto the second floor. Brian quickly extracted himself and made down the hallway to his apartment door. Max came behind him, walking as casually as possible.

Brian could hear Max's heart beat.

His ears twitched with the pulse and Brian felt like Max could read his thoughts.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Brian grabbed his keys again and shoved them into the dead bolt, nearly missing twice as his hands begun to shake a bit. Where was this coming from?

_ _ "Excuse me, who are you?"

Brian let out a yelp of surprise as his keys fell out of the lock, away from his hands and dropped noisily to the floor with a clatter.

He looked up and saw Edna Sullivan in all her glory standing at the foot of the stairwell that led from the third floor to the lobby, giving both of them a death glare.

She was dressed in her magenta bathrobe, fluffy pink slippers adorned her callused feet and her thick gray hair was drawn up in blue curlers. She wasn't wearing her makeup and her wrinkled face belied the sharp hawk eyes she had. Her nails gleamed like claws and of course, they were naturally painted a shade of red designed to make a hooker blush. A half smoked cigarette was nestled between her fingers on her right hand as she stood, looming like some great fluffy bird, angry that its nest had been disturbed, her gaze full of instant suspicion. Max turned at the sound of her voice, his dark eyebrows reaching for the ceiling.

"Miss Sullivan!" Brian gaped as he quickly bent down and retrieved his fallen keys, stammering as he did. "Its good to see you."

Edna's eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sure it is, but I don't know who the hell you are, boy." She cawed, stepping forward, puffing her shoulders up. The image of an angry cardinal with a cigarette shot through Brian's mind again and it nearly undermined his already shady resolve.

She doesn't recognize me like this, Brian suddenly understood, seeing her confused face.

"Why do you have keys to one of my tenants units given that I've never seen either of you before or is that something the cops should be asking you?" she asked as her hand slid toward the cordless phone Brian knew she kept in her robe. Thinking quickly, Brian stammered an answer.

"Well, um, that's a good question. We -"

Max spoke up, turning to face Sullivan, his face going soft and gentle, his blue eyes twinkling at her as he flashed her pearly grin, keeping the tips of his fangs below his lips disarmingly.

"We're friends of Brian and he's got some business out of town with his mom. He asked us to come by and check on the place." He said, his voice smooth as butter.

Sullivan paused, looking over the muscular hulking shifter, taking his measure. For a moment, Brian didn't think she would buy it.

"Friends, huh? What's that bag for then?" she asked sharply, motioning the red ember of her cigarette towards Brian's duffle bag.

"Oh. That. My friend here just left the gym and I'm running him home. I thought we'd kill two birds with one stone and check on Brian's place like he asked while we're here." Max told her and Brian frowned at him, and then quickly catching on, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, man I hate leg day. I just want to get in there and get this over with, my calves are killing me. Do you work out, mam?" he said trying to inject as much believability and congeniality into his voice as possible even as it shook.

Sullivan didn't bother to even answer Brian, instead locking eyes with Max instead, fearlessly, no less. The moment dragged into a painful pregnant silence. Her rough voice from years of smoking and her Brooklyn-esque accent split the awkward tension in the hallway like a knife.

"I never knew MacGregor hung around...well...folks like you. You say your friends of his? Poor kid needs em. He doesn't have much of a life. Good on his rent checks every month so I ain't got shit to say. Keeps to himself. Ya'll go ahead but keep it down." She said and turned away from them and headed down to the lobby, her bathrobe's fluttering around her swollen ankles. Her eyes never left them as she moved down the stairs and a moment later she was gone.

Brian dropped the strained and forced pose he had been holding and breathed a loud sigh of relief, his heart finally slowing down to a reasonable speed.

"Why didn't you just tell her who you were?" Max asked him, turning around to face him, one ear cocked back towards the stair case, just in case Sullivan was still there to eavesdrop.

Opening the lock and the door, Brian paused before entering his apartment.

"Because...I guess I'm not ready for people to know yet." He replied, stepping across the threshold.

*****

At Wade Johnson Memorial Hospital, Raven was not having a good night.

The drug over dose patient in the ICU had crashed twice and they had barely brought him back. A headache thumped dully between her ears and she could feel the tension etching lines into her face. She stood in the diagnostics lab on the third floor, computers whirring around her as technicians ran blood samples, stool samples, lab work and the whole room had an aura of tension. She knew it was radiating from her. It couldn't be helped. On the walls, X-Ray panels held transparent films from the MRI and CAT scan labs. Two of her fellow doctors, Dr. Cranston, a human male with salt and pepper hair and a square jaw line, and Dr. Kitson, a full generation male shifter that resembled a fox, stood side by side, analyzing the images carefully.

Raven, meanwhile, was eyeball deep in the charts for their John Doe upstairs in ICU.

Well, he's not really a John Doe, she thought to herself. We knew quite a bit about him this time.

When he had first came in, he was presenting similar symptoms as the others who seemed to be sharing this mystery drug. He had been manic, almost hyperactive and it had taken two more of Simmons guards to subdue him and by the time they had him safely restrained, the man had gone into shock and then sudden respiratory failure. The previous two, not counting the maniac who had been hauled off to jail that Brian had dealt with, had not survived. Their hearts had given out a few hours after they arrived but this one, this one was a fighter.

His name was Thomas Lain and he was twenty-six. Lain had been a dock worker for Atlas Shipping, according to the records they could find on him, which amounted to his driver's license and a dock worker security badge that had seen better days. They had been able to reach his supervisor and his supervisor had told them that Lain had issues with attendance, especially the past few weeks. He was about to be fired, in fact. No, the supervisor had told them, he didn't have any contact information on file for Lain, no next of kin, no family, though the supervisor had begun to suspect that Lain was on drugs because of his continually degrading behavior.

Raven flipped a page in the folder, stepping closer to the X-ray board across from the other two doctors to get a bit of thinking space.

Lain's blood work had confirmed two things: One, he was absolutely human and the second, was that his entire system was flooded with a powerful drug that for all intents and purposes, appeared to be some type of hyperactive stimulant in the amphetamine family. That's the best the lab techs had come up after three cases, she thought darkly, annoyed at their lack of progress, though more so at the general idea that with all the technology they had at their disposal that they still couldn't crack the mystery of what the hell the damn stuff was. The radioactive trace was the most unique part of the substance along with its complex molecular make up.

Upon examination, she had found multiple injection sites and needle tracks in Lain's badly abused forearms. Whatever it was, it was injectable and this was confirmed when they went through his belongings looking for any kind of clue and found something that had shocked them all and had led to all this lab work.

In his pockets, Lain had three ampoules of a strange blue liquid that glowed slightly. The ampoules were about an inch or two long, the glass tempered with a sharp tip clearly meant to be twisted or broken off, revealing a thin needle, much like an epipen. When used in that manner suggested, it would have given whomever the user was a full dose unless they moderated it somehow.

The first ampoule they pulled out was nearly empty but not quite. The second was fully drained and was obviously the cause of Lain's current condition while the third...

Raven looked down at the centrifuge on the lab desk where a test tube of the liquid had been sat after it had been drained out of the ampoule. It glowed softly in the centrifuge's racks. The tube itself was about half full. Testing had depleted the sample considerably. The radiation it gave off wasn't enough to be dangerous but most of the lab techs had given it a fair bit of space regardless.

"Dr. Jones, a moment?"

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts as she looked up, her violet eyes glinting in the light. Even in her human form, which she was in at the moment, she was always getting complimented on them.

It was Kitson. His voice was gentle and inquisitive, as was his nature. He was a pediatric doctor and was popular among the children, both human and shifter and was known for his excellent bedside manner and his drive to truly help those who needed it, exhausting every resource.

"Sorry, yes?" Raven asked, stepping forward, closing the case file in her hands, letting it fall to her side, her white lab coat rustling as she walked. Dressed in green scrubs, Kitson crossed his arms thoughtfully.

"We've been looking at the Adams girl's scans now for two hours and we can't seem to narrow down the source of the infection. It could be some kind of meningitis but..." Kitson sighed, his dual colored eyes tired yet determined. Kitson had heterochromia, a rare mutation even among shifters. His left eye was a deep green while his right was a startling blue. His red fur looked rumpled and she could tell he had been on his feet for over twelve hours. He looked exhausted.

Dr. Cranston stepped aside and made room for her between them. Not being familiar with the case she was about to object politely when the decision was taken out of her hands.

Over head the PA blared as an alarm began to ring.

"CODE BLUE, ICU 375! CODE BLUE!"

Raven's heart went cold. It was Lain. Her patient.

Without so much as a look at the two of her colleagues she left them behind, setting the case file down roughly on the nurse's station just outside the diagnostic lab, her lab coat flying out behind her, her chestnut hair in its pony tail billowing. Her feet thudded against the white tile of the hallway as she threw open the doors to the ICU ward.

"I need a crash team to 375, now!" she ordered, throwing open the door to the open, sliding it in its rails. The door bounced as it hit the stopper and she entered the room to see Lain, hooked up to all his tubes and wires, dying. His skin had taken on a deathly gray color and his eyes were set deep in their sockets. She looked at his finger nails and saw they had turned a shade of deep blue.

A moment later, chaos exploded.

Four nurses rushed in, all of them green scrubs, burst into the room. They all set to work immediately as Raven jumped in with them, grabbing Lain's limp arm to verify the call nurses original code.

She felt his pulse faint, thread, with a strange beat to it.

His heart was racing up and down wildly, chaotically.

She recognized it immediately, and just like the others, she knew what it was.

Ventricular tachycardia. A shockable rhythm and one they might pull him out of before it was too late. She was determined not to loose this man. She glanced wildly, looking for the defibulator.

"Where's the fucking crash cart?!" She yelled, barking orders roughly to her nurses.

A moment later the cart appeared. Working fast, she switched on the defibrillator.

Moving back to Lain, she shook him violently, calling his name loudly as she did.

"Mr. Lain, can you hear me? Mr. Lain?"

Lain, still as a corpse, offered no reply.

"He's unresponsive, doctor. Not breathing!" a young female nurse reported the obvious. Raven redirected her. "Start CPR now. I don't want to lose this guy!"

The young woman leaped aside as Raven moved in front of her to take over as the defib unit began to charge with a whine. Quickly, she shifted the index fingernail of her right hand into her claw and ripped it down the front of Lain's gown, hoping no one noticed as she shifted it back to normal. She tore open his hospital gown's remains, exposing his thin chest and ribs. His chest was still.

"Ephinephrine, ten milliters. I needed it yesterday!" she snarled as she threw her weight into compressions. She was stronger than baseline humans and had to restrain herself as she shoved down onto his ribcage, released and compressed.

"Ambu-bag incoming!" a male crash nurse said, jolting side a younger man as he moved, quickly placing a bag valve mask onto Lain's face and over his nose and mouth. Raven counted out loud as she moved up and down on Lain's chest.

"....Twenty-six...twenty-seven....twenty-eight...twenty-nine...thirty! Breathe!" she yelled.

The nurse with the ambu-bag squeezed the bulb and a rush of air shot down Lain's throat.

No good.

Nothing had changed.

"Fuck!" Raven growled and she felt her emotions rise. Quickly, she shoved them into a box and kicked them aside as she continued cardiopulmonary resuscitation, her arms beginning to burn and her own breathing picking up. An auto-injector appeared on the crash cart beside her.

She heaved for two more minutes, the webbing between her shoulders on fire, her own heart hammering, her hair falling into her face.

Lain wasn't responding.

Moving quickly, she drove the epi-pen into his chest area, just to the left of his sternum. With a click, the pen dispensed its drug and she tossed it aside. Raven dove back into CPR.

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Breathe!"

The ambu-bag hissed.

Nothing.

Lain's heart monitor was screaming in protest, its alarm bells ringing wildly.

Raven stopped CPR and moved to the charged defib, her mind racing along the links in the chain of survival and coming to a cold understanding she was reaching the end of that chain very quickly.

She grabbed the paddles and placed them, one to the right of his sternum and the other just below clavicle. She waited as the defibrillator told her in its computer voice what she already knew.

"Shockable rhythm detected."

"Clear!"

Making sure everything metal was out of the way and no one was in contact with Lain, she depressed the trigger studs on the paddles.

With a high pitched whine and a sickening sizzling thump, the unit discharged its electricity into Lain's chest.

His body jumped, jerking violently as the current ran into his heart but he did not protest or awaken.

"Resume CPR!" Raven barked, pulling the paddles back as the device began to whine as it charged back up. Two nurses, both male, stepped in and began compressions, the pattern set in her brain so much that it was like riding bike. 30 compressions breathe. Rinse and repeat. The machine dinged a minute later and with a "CLEAR!" Raven shocked Lain's heart again.

The heart monitor itself was going crazy and a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye told her that they were losing the fight as the green graph began to dip.

For the next half an hour, the life of Thomas Lain lay in Raven's hands and for that half an hour he lived, only through herself and her team exhausting themselves into a sweat drenched, back aching, arms burning storm and it was when that half an hour had passed that Raven felt someone grab her arm, not hard but firm enough to bring her back to the reality she had left behind when she had went into her Code Blue head space, a space where only the patterns and actions existed, where a life was saved by following the chain of survival through the dark like a blind person being led only this time, that chain had broken.

"Dr. Jones....he's gone. You can stop."

It was Dr. Kitson. The nurses stood back from the bed, the room a disaster from the discarded epi-pen boxes, the defibrillator quiet and the heart monitor was the only sound left with its high pitched monotonous whine. It wasn't even an alarm anymore, just a solid, steady whine. The screen showed only a flat line of green pixels.

"Raven...he's gone." The voice said again and another set of hands fell on her shoulder.

Dr. Cranston.

Blinking, Raven finally stopped her compressions, fading back from the bed and standing along in a group of her peers in scrubs, her face wet and her hair a mess. Her shoes crunched an empty epi-pen box and she didn't notice.

Gradually, the world came back to the here and now and time resumed itself as Lain lay on the bed, his skin already showing signs of blood pooling from his dead heart, his eyes forever closed, his arm hanging limply off the bed, the red pulse oxy meter dangling from it uselessly.

"Dr. Jones...tee-oh-dee?" Raven heard one of the nurses ask. In her stunned exhaustion, Raven glanced at her watch.

"2:22 PM. Time of death is 2:22 PM." She replied, her voice small and toneless.

Raven wasn't aware of how much time had passed but she imagined it had to be an hour or more. Time had ceased to mean anything while she sat in the doctor's lounge. Her arms burned, her shoulders screamed in protest any time she moved them and her back was going to kill her in the morning. Healing factor or no, it was still going to suck.

She stared into the cup of coffee before her, the brown liquid having long gone cold. She hadn't even touched it and didn't know why she had gotten in. She was sick to her stomach.

Thomas Lain was the third man to die on her watch.

In an emergency room, or a hospital in general, death was a constant companion, never far away, always lurking behind the next corner or behind the next door. It didn't care how old you were, how young or how innocent. Death didn't care about things like redemption or how much effort you put into saving a life. If Death wanted your patient, then by fucking Christ it was going to take them, no matter what you did and sometimes, it took them just to spite you.

Raven felt numbness as well as the pain. It was a cold, lonely thing that dwelled in her mind. Losing a patient is never easy and no matter how many times it happens, you never adjust to it. Thomas Lain lay in the morgue now, three stories below her in the basement, cold as a fish on a slab, a white tag on his big toe. No one would come to claim him, she knew. Whatever had led him down this path, he was alone when he walked it. There was nothing she could do about that and she did all she could do, she told herself, swirling the swizzle stick in the coffee aimlessly, watching the ripples.

Raven liked to solve puzzles. She enjoyed riddles and as a child, she had always played vet or doctor, amusing her mother and her father to no end with her escapes. She had once made a paper mache cast for her dog which took ages to get out of his fur. She had been grounded for that one, but it was worth it at the time, she thought, with the tinest tick of pride.

She had made it her life to help and heal others, to help them deal with the pains of the body that needed a gentle hand and up until this past week she had felt confident in herself that she was that hand. Do no harm...

Sometimes, the puzzles, she thought, had no solutions, thinking of the deadly blue mystery in the lab centrifuge, waiting like a snake to kill its next victim, addict or not. The thought angered her. Who the hell makes shit like that? What, for money? People had no goddamn...

A solution presented itself that at once intrigued her and alarmed her greatly. She wondered if perhaps Lain's death had unhinged her more than she had thought when the notion came up again, teasing her mind, almost erotically seductive with its simplicity.

In order to fight this new drug and save any one else from it, she needed to know what it was and how to counter act it. She also needed to know the source. With all of the patients dead, her colleagues at the hospital had no way of finding out.

But she did.

The fight with herself lasted all of two seconds. She made her decision and stood up from the lounge table, leaving her cold neglected coffee behind. Her lab coat flowed behind her as she moved, with purpose, to the diagnostics lab. She keyed the entry code and was inside a moment later. The lab was mostly deserted. The techs must be on shift break. Only one tech remained and she was deeply absorbed in a microscope.

Stealthily, Raven stepped up to the centrifuge and opened it, sliding the test tube out of its slot, the glowing blue fluid sloshing gently inside it against the plastic screw cap. While they didn't know much about the drug, one thing they did find out after cracking open the ampoules was impossible to forget.

The stuff stank to high heaven.

Scent. They knew what it smelled like. A bitter sickening acrid chemical smell.

Pocketing the vial, Raven slid it into her lab coat and went back to work. She still had a little while before she was free to leave for Draco's tonight but already she felt better.

She had found a solution. Now, all she needed to do was implement it and that was something she could accomplish. Restored, she began her final rounds.

*****

"Don't mind the mess..." Brian said as he crossed into the kitchen. Outside, the sun was beginning to set lower into the sky and it turned from a azure blue to a blazing orange yellow. As he entered the foyer, he reached over to the light switch panel to the right and flipped several of the switches. The door closed behind them and Brian locked it securely. No chances.

The apartment itself wasn't that large, Max noticed as he followed Brian in. As you stepped into the foyer, there was a door to the right, next to the light switches with a vent in the bottom of the door; sniffing the air, Max smelled laundry detergent and Gain fabric softener. A laundry room. He could also hear the hum of a central air and heat unit. On the opposite side of that door, on the left side of the hallway, an open arch led into a small but adequate kitchen. The floor was laminated in greenish-brown linoleum and the cabinets themselves were a darker wood, well aged but not exactly up to modern snuff. The counter tops were a dark slate grey and the stove, a white model with a digital clock and digital controls sat under a light from the stove hood. A white refrigerator hummed obediently.

Brian stepped though the kitchen, moving past a small round dining table and chairs and into the living room which was the biggest room in the apartment and that wasn't saying much. It had room for a couch and a small love seat, both of which had seen better days and didn't match. The carpet at least was new; it was a thick plush brown that matched reasonably well with the white walls and wood trimmed borders. A cheap television stand made of glass and metal and plastic sat in front of the sofas against the wall and on it was a 51 inch LCD television that had seen better days.

On the coffee table, a game controller and a soda can sat; Max noticed a ring had formed under the soda can. On the back of the love seat were a pair of Brian's underwear, trunk-style, in camo colors with a black waistband. Feeling his face flush hot, Brian quickly swept them away and shoved them into his bag, embarrassment flooding his chest.

"Sorry about that." He said sheepishly.

"Dude, you've not been home in days. I'm not judging you or anything, shit." Max replied, his hands in his jeans pockets, looking very out of place. Two large eight paned windows were set into the far wall behind brown curtains and white blinds. Outside, the sun drew closer to the horizon. Switching on the three lamps in the living room, the room burst into warm light and looked instantly more welcoming. Brian started off down the hall and Max hesitantly followed him, not wanting to be intrusive but obviously not sure what to do.

The hall way wasn't that long and on the left was the bathroom, which was decently sized for the apartment, a small closet in the hall led to a towel closet (Max could smell the detergent) and there at the end of the hall was the door to the bedroom and there is where Max hedged and stopped short.

"I can wait in the living room if you want..." he said.

Brian shook his head nonchalantly. "Look man, I was all over your place. Its only fair for you to see mine."

Pushing open the bedroom door Brian stepped in.

The bedroom itself took up the whole end of the apartment unit. Like the living room it was white walled with brown carpets. An eight paned window, similarly dressed, looked out onto the city. The bed itself was unmade, a queen size affair with a simple wooden headboard. Twin night stands were on either side of the head board, one of which had a digital clock on it, the numbers flashing 2:45. The lamps on the nightstands were mismatched, Max noted.

Sitting on the bed heavily, careful of his tail, Brian sighed with relief. He was glad to be home. It felt good after all the chaos of the last few days. Still, it almost felt alien. It was mostly because it was his first time being back in this new form, he thought. Not wanting to really get into that mental battle again, he motioned Max to grab a set at the foot of the bed.

Max shook his head that he was fine and leaned against the wall, hands still in his pockets, his tail lashing as it usually did.

"So," Brian asked as he dumped his duffel bag out onto the bed, its contents flying everywhere. "Draco Riley. The civil rights guy. How do you guys know him?"

Sniffing, Max replied calmly but guardedly. His walls, Brian noted rarely ever came down.

"I met Draco about ten years ago. I was on the streets at the time. Life was a bitch. I was digging out of trash cans and getting into bar fights constantly. He took me in for a while and helped me get situated. I met Raven about three years ago. I trust them both with my life and they are some of the only people I do trust."

"Including present company?" Brian asked, only half kidding.

When Max didn't answer but gave him a raised eyebrow, Brian got his answer. Definitely a no.

"I've seen him a few times on the news. MSNBC and didn't he do an interview on Fox News once?" Brian asked, sorting through the junk he had dumped out. He picked his work uniform out and set it aside in a ball. He tossed his tactical vest and utility belt along with it, the attachments on the belt jangling on the leather as he did.

Max nodded. "Yeah. The Fox thing didn't go well. He walked off. Bill O'Rielly was an ass hole."

Brian laughed a bit. "Yeah he's a fuck wit."

Max's blue eyes were drawn to Brian's work uniform.

"That a bullet proof vest?"

Brian nodded. "Yeah. Unfortunately, going to the ER nowadays is just as likely to end up with you getting shot as not. At least you're already there," he finished darkly.

"You ever been shot?" Max asked, taking his hands out of his pocket and crossing his arms. Brian shook his head. "Not had the pleasure. You? I mean I saw the bullets in the ashtrays but.."

Max snorted. "Yeah. I've picked out my share. Raven rides my ass for it, though. Says its unsanitary."

Brian finished sorting through the duffel bag contents. He had set his wallet, keys and phone aside. He mentally slapped himself and quickly stuck his phone on charge.

"Always letting the fucking thing die on me," he said.

"Same." Max replied.

The conversation was beginning to be strained and Brian could feel it thick in the air.

"Thanks for covering my ass out there. That was slick how you handled that. It was like you became someone else for a moment." Brian said, getting up and tossing the ruined duffel bag into the closet absently. Max looked at his feet as he replied with a snort.

"Its nothing. Just bullshitting. Its all most people do every day is bullshit. If you can bullshit with them, it makes not dealing with them easier because you can be as fake as they are."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "You don't like people, much do you?"

"Can't say that I do. I've got no reason to. You?"

Brian shrugged. "I try to give people a chance until they fuck up."

"It's who gets hurt in the fucking up part that I don't care for." Max stated flatly and that was the end of that subject Brian saw.

"The clothes you guys got for me fit pretty well. A bit snug but I appreciate it." He added, sticking his head into his closet and coming out with a black backpack that had seen better days. He tossed it on the bed noticing Max's look at it as he did. He understood it well. Most people didn't know why he kept such a shabby looking thing.

"My lucky pack. Saved my life one summer when I was hiking with my mom and dad. I was fourteen. I missed a step and went over the edge of a fucking cliff. The strap got caught on a tree limb and it hung me over the edge. My dad pulled me back and I was a bit more careful after that." He explained.

"Sounds lucky that your dad was there." Max replied, and seeing the sudden shadow fall on Brian's dark furred face, he knew that the subject of his father was a sensitive one and instantly regretted the way he had said that.

"Yeah. It was the last time he ever did anything like that," Brian said, moving to his dressers, yanking out a few pairs of socks and underwear. Holding them up to his waist, he thought he might be able to make them work still. His new body was larger but it wasn't vastly so compared to his old self. He shoved them into the back. He dug out a watch from a nightstand drawer, tried to fit around his wrist and failed. Scowling he tossed it back.

"What happened?" Max asked, his own curiosity getting the better of him and against his own judgment to keep his goddamn nose to himself. Why he asked it, he didn't know. There was something about Brian that made his walls do weird things and he didn't care for it.

Grabbing a few t-shirts, all shades of blue and black from his closet and a tank top from his dresser, Brian tossed those in as well.

"Well, long story short, my dad was a cop. When I was fifteen, he had been involved in a drug investigation. He was the lead cop and had been working undercover for almost a year. It caused a lot of strain at home with my mom and me. He was never home near the end. One day, his partners came knocking and told us that his cover had been blown. There wasn't much to bury after that."

There had been though, Brian remembered. The funeral had been a closed casket because the undertaker had told them that what was left was best left unseen, despite the funeral home doing its best work. Brian thought that the pain from his dad's loss and his anger and unresolved conflict with his father hadn't ever really healed, it had just formed a scar, a scar that from time to time, would twinge and ache like an arthritic knee before a bad thunderstorm. He didn't know how to articulate this to anyone and so he continued on, packing his backpack.

"Not long after, had to go into anger management therapy. That lasted about a year before I came out of it. Mom and I never quite had the same relationship we did before. I finished high school and moved the fuck away from Carsonsville as soon as I could. I went to college for two semesters for criminal justice before I dropped out. I guess I couldn't stand looking at what took dad away from us any more."

"Man, I'm sorry I didn't mean to--"

Brian shrugged. "Just gotta keep moving along. Its what we all have to do. If we let it, it will drag us down and kill us softly. Just a whisper is all we'd be. I just keep moving. What's your story?"

The question caught Max off guard in that same way Brian seemed to have a knack for. What was it about this guy that could get past his defenses and get past all the scars and hit right where it hurt the most, where he could feel the most?

"Umm...long story."

"If you don't want to talk about it, its okay. Shit happens, right?" Brian added.

"Nah man its not that its...its just that it's a lot of the reason I'm the way I am. My mom and dad died when I was seventeen. House fire."

"Damn man I--"

Max interrupted him. "No...not a house fire.....sorry...its hard to talk about. Just a bunch of drunk rednecks with nothing better to do."

"Sounds like we both have scars from addicts, and assholes huh?" Brian said, looking at Max, his arms crossed loosely in front of him. Max's face was a world of pain and hurt and in that moment, just for a split second, Brian saw the depth of it and it shocked him. It was then that he understood what the images were he had been seeing. He understood their context now.

With that revelation now made clear, Brian sat down on the bed heavily, lost in thought.

"Max...I need to tell you something."

Max's ears perked up and he stood up a bit straighter.

"What?" Max replied and instantly the shield was back up, Brian noted. He wondered should he tell Max? Should he press it? He decided that he should. All this was new territory and maybe it was common to see things like that.

"I've been seeing things...in dreams...sometimes when I'm awake...of you."

Now that the truth was out there, he couldn't take it back and come what may, it was too late to do anything about it. Max stepped forward, his arms uncrossing as he stood over Brian. Brian didn't have to look up much but he did have to look up a bit from his lower seat on the bed.

"What images? What do you mean?" Max asked. Brian could feel his body heat radiating off of him and that scent was back....only now it was laced with something else....fear?

"Images of you in the snow...in woods...men in dark robes...jars of gasoline. A burning house...a man in the snow laying in blood...you holding a dark haired woman...an explosion..."

Max's body went rigid as if he had been hit with an electric shock. The wind had been knocked out of him as he sank to the floor, sitting back on his haunches, before finally collapsing on his butt, his tail still for the first time since Brian had known him, his ears surprisingly, were at attention.

"Dude, are you okay?" Brian asked, reaching out to stabilize him.

Max waved him off, not looking at him. "I'm fine its just...how long have you been seeing this stuff?" His voice was rough and quiet.

What Brian didn't and couldn't know is that he had just ripped a emotional scar wide open, and it was bleeding, terribly, and memories were flooding Max and it hurt. It hurt terribly. His throat felt hot and his heart hammered, thudding in his wide chest. There were no defenses at this point inside of Max and Max knew it; Brian had cut right to them. Here, deep in the languid darkness, Max 's true self languished in that fire every day, the amber blaze reflecting on blood stained winter snow.

"Since you bit me. I had dreams from day one. I thought they were just dreams until I saw the picture of that woman in your garage...it was her. The dark haired lady. She's your mother."

Max said nothing, just looking between his knees. His world was swimming.

"Your dad...your mom...they were killed by those people, weren't they? They burned the house down while you were out one night..."

Brian stopped and saw Max's jaw was firmly set, the muscle in his cheek rigid, his blue eyes cold and angry. When Max spoke, it was a rough whisper, carefully measured and meted out.

"Yeah....that's pretty much it. I had been off on a camping trip on my own. It took me a year to convince my parents to let me go on my own, even if was just outside of town. I headed back when it started to snow. The house was engulfed. They took everything from me. Everything. How did you see any of this?"

Brian slowed down and took his time.

"Max...I don't know how. I'm...I'm sorry. Is this normal for....for people like us?"

After a moment, Max shook his head. "No. It's not. I've never heard of anything like it."

The pregnant silence born in that moment was terrible, a flashing hurricane of emotions swirling into a storm of pain and cold revelation that was focused there, on the two of them in that room.

"That's why you go out at night, isn't it? To fight the pain only it never goes away. It just gets worse. You blame yourself." Whispered Brian, mostly to himself, understanding far more now than he ever thought he would get from Max. The truth was a terrible burden that now rested before and when Brian looked at Max again, he saw something he didn't expect.

He saw a broken tortured soul not that never laugh no-nonsense tough exterior he put on for others. That was a mask, a shield. The true Max, deep under all that window dressing, was in perpetual agony.

Max said nothing but was focused the floor, his breathing, deep and oddly regular, as if he were trying to hold onto the control he had and which he had had unexpectedly torn away from him with simple words.

Not knowing what the reaction would be and unable to explain why he did so, Brian reached out and put a hand on Max's shoulder, resting it there. He felt the tension in Max's muscles, ready to snap and also, the smallest of shivers.

"I don't know why this shit happens to people like us but when I asked you to guide me through this, I meant it. When I said as friends, I meant it. I'm not going anywhere, Max. We've got more in common than we thought. You don't have to let me or anyone else in. Just know not all of us are will leave. Not all of us will be taken."

He gave Max's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Max sat there, unresponsive for a few moments more.

Blowing out a strong huff of air, Max got to his feet and straightened out his shirt and crossed his arms as though he were cold.

"What's the plan?" he asked, not looking Brian in the eyes.

"Well, I packed a bag. If its okay, I'd like to stay around you--you know...with Raven and you and maybe Draco for a bit until we get this whole thing figured out better. Would be easier and I honestly don't think I can deal with all of this on my own. Its been easier where I've been constantly occupied but..."

Max nodded, a silent expression coming down on his face, his blue eyes saying what his voice would not, that he understood. Brian didn't want to be alone. Max could understand that.

"You can chill at my place for a while...be good for you anyway, like you said...until we get this stuff figured out."

"I'll bring my laptop or something so I don't get in the way."

Nodding, Max turned to head back down the hall way, his back to Brian.

"Did you ever get in touch with your friend?"

Brian felt a cold shock hit him. No, of course he hadn't . Jesus Christ. In the last few moments, all that had came out had brushed it from his mind.

"Fuck. I'm going to try and call her now." Brian said disgusted with himself.

"I'll be waiting in here." And with that, Max vanished like a gray ghost into the hallway.

Reaching over to his phone, Brian was glad to see it had a decent charge on it. Unplugging the charger, he tossed it into his backpack and turned his phone on. While it booted up, he felt a cool panic rise in his chest and a queasy anticipation be born in his guts.

Ellie. Elijah. God he hoped he could reach her this time and he knew what he would say. He had planned it just now in his mind. He knew exactly what to do.

Dialing her number, he waited.

And waited.

This time, the voicemail did not kick on. This time, it was her. It was Ellie. He felt relief flood through him. Finally.

"Brian?" he heard her voice ask, soft and quiet, as if she was just waking from a deep dream.

"Ellie...its me. How have--" He said, his voice low and he felt his arms begin to shake. He squeezed the phone tighter, the plastic and metal creaking. She breathed slowly on the other end of the line and he heard her moving around in the background.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her tone was one that he didn't like. It was accusatory. Angry. Hurt. He didn't blame her.

"Ellie...I've had so much on me that I lost track of my life. So much has changed in the last week.... I wish I could explain it to you." His explanation sounded paltry even to him.

"He was your best friend, Brian. Why didn't you come to the services, the funeral? I need you...I needed you so much."

That cut him deeply. As it should, he mentally hit himself. You should have been there, he chided himself harshly. No excuses. What, were you afraid to show up with a tail and ears, huh to your best goddamn friend's funeral?

_ _ Everything he had planned to say crumbled to ash and was blown away. He held the bridge of his snout with his free hand.

"Ellie please...there's a lot you don't know but listen, I'm sorry...so sorry...you can't imagine how sorry I am that I wasn't there for him."

He heard her inhale sharply as if he had slapped her. Her reply burned like a hot brand on his face.

"I can't imagine? Me? Can't imagine? Brian, my fiancé is dead. They tortured him for hours before they killed him. I was at home in bed...miles away...where were you?"

"I--" he stammered. She cut him off harshly.

"Did you have anything to do with this? You two were always hanging out...I...Brian....did he ever get into any of this drug business? For fucks sake, if anyone would know it would be you..."

"No, Ellie. He didn't have anything to do with drugs. That night...we had a bad night at work. There was a guy...drugged up out of his mind..." he continued and muttered something about gang members, finding that voice was failing by the second. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. He fought it back.

"That doesn't make any sense, Brian. The cops said it looked like a revenge killing."

"It was." Brian replied, his voice cracking quietly.

"Do what?" Ellie asked sharply, crying as she did. Her voice finally broke.

"Nothing." He replied, the sting in his eyes worse.

"Brian he was so close to you. Like your brother. He worshipped the ground you walked on...and you...you weren't there for him when they...when they..."

Buried him.

He finished her sentence for her mentally.

Instantly the image of Elijah lying in a plush casket, lined with his favorite color navy blue, dressed in his nicest suit, arms crossed and eyes closed hit him like a truck and he heard Elijah's voice.

Where were you? You were my friend.

_ _ The stinging in his eyes won and a single drop of moisture squeezed out of his eyes as his soul cracked again. How many times could he take this happening, he wondered?

"He was my...my best friend. Ellie, one day, I'll explain to you...one day I'll help you understand why I wasn't there but right now....right now I've got so much on me its taking all I have to stay on my feet. Things are bad here. Please...try to understand. I'm sorry I wasn't there, more than I can put into words or ever say....please...know that."

There was a long pause on her end. The quiet hurt more than her words.

"For now, its probably best you stay away for while....I need time, Brian. You hurt me by not being there when I ...when we...needed you most. Maybe one day...but not now." She said quietly, her words ringing with a terrible finality. He heard her move to hang up and he stopped her.

"Ellie...where did they...where did they bury him?"

The words stabbed him and twisted the knife as a second droplet rolled out of his eyes, his voice shaking.

"Pleasant Rest Cemetery there in town. You know that. Goodbye, Brian."

The line went dead.

Brian's hand came down slowly, and he looked at the phone in his hands. It felt as heavy as stone and offered just as much condolence. For moment, he sat there, not wanting to move, his eyes moist, his throat hurting. It took him a bit to collect himself and when he did, he shoved his phone into his bag along with his clothes and grabbed his toothbrush from the bathroom. Zipping it into a Ziploc bag, he looked at his laptop sitting on the dresser and found that he no longer had the heart to bring it and left it where it lay.

There was one place he wanted to be now, more than anywhere else. Glancing I the mirror hung on the wall above his dresser, Brian cleared his eyes on the back of his hand and shouldered his bag. Shutting off the lights, he moved into the living room and shut off the central air and heat. Max was standing in the living room, looking out the windows, looking lost in thought as he did, his blue eyes far away from the apartment.

"Hey...do you mind if we stop somewhere before we head out to Draco's? Its not far. I'd appreciate it."

Max's ears swiveled towards Brian before Max himself turned.

"Sure."

A few moments later, Brian had shut the lights off and as they left the apartment, he locked the door behind him and it struck him it was as if he was locking his old life away behind that simple brown door. Going down the stairs, he saw no sign of Edna Sullivan as they passed the front lobby area and stepped outside into the growing twilight. Sunset wouldn't be far off.

The truck roared to life and they were on the road again, both of them with their ghosts, never alone yet both feeling terribly exposed right now more than either of them cared to admit.

Pleasant Rest Cemetery was a ten minute drive in the opposite direction from Brian's apartment but he managed to direct Max there with little difficulty. The ride there had been quiet, both of them saying everything and nothing at the same time, their language was the silent pains and silent scars that spoke for themselves. Each of them bore a burden and that burden was theirs alone.

As the truck slowed to stop and the engine died, Brian looked up at the final resting place of so many lost.

The cemetery itself dated back to 1798 and many of the graves in the oldest section dated back far older. Their stones were weather worn, rounded and crumbling, names no longer visible, the people long forgotten, the graves untended by loved ones who were no longer here. It had rolling hills of green and over all, was more or less taken care of, sans the oldest parts. A large oak tree grew large and strong off the top of one hill in the newer section. Row upon row of gray stone and marble monuments made a grid that stretched as far as the eye could see. Several stone angels and crosses rose their supplicating arms to the sky. Brian saw his destination, on top of that hill, not far from that oak tree. Elijah had told him years ago that was his wish to be buried when time came in a place with a view.

"You'll be okay?" Max asked, his concern uncharacteristic.

"Yeah...I won't be long." Brian said, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

As he stepped up to the ornate black wrought iron fence with its gates thrown wide, Brian saw the sign that said Gates close at dark. Area is patrolled.

_ _ Stepping through them made the weight he carried grow heavier and he forced himself to life his feet and carry on. The sky was growing dark quickly and on the horizon, Dawson City began to sparkle. A warm summer breeze had kicked up, carrying a bit of dirt from a fresh grave nearby into the air. As he walked, Brian noted the names on the tombstones, each one was a face lost, a smile never to shine again, a laugh to be silenced for eternity.

Mary O'grimm. May 4, 1941-July 5, 2011. Grandmother.

_ Ted Rogers. August 8, 1980-August 20, 1980. Our son._

_ Lisa Mattington. December 12, 1962-January 4, 2001. Mom._

_ David Linch. February 2, 1961-August, 9, 2009. Beloved Father._

_ _ He kept reading the names as he made his way up and through the rows, and finally he was unable to read them anymore. He knew his eyes were glowing their green night vision color now. It wasn't a matter of not being able to read them, he thought as the warm air ruffled the fur on the back of his neck and arms. It was a matter of not wanting to see anymore. He felt the ground begin to rise and knew that he was marching up the incline and in a few moments, he had crested it.

He stood next to the gigantic oak tree, its thick leaves and branches moving in the summer breeze, the scents of freshly turned earth, warm stone and something perhaps a bit old and maybe a bit rotten lingered in the air. Brian had never been able to smell things like this before. But he didn't care. His full attention was directed down, about ten feet ahead where a six foot long mound of slightly curved earth lay, exposed and rich brown against the green of the surrounding grass.

The grave he thought looked a little sunken in, like there hadn't been enough earth to fill the hole that was dug. There never seemed to be enough to fill it, he thought allowing his gleaming green eyes to at last fall upon the head stone.

It was rectangular, made of granite and marble, finely carved with an ornate Celtic design that wrapped around the edges. The stone was sunken into the ground, carefully sat up by expert hands, hands that were the silent aides of the grave digger, the funeral parlor, the undertaker, all those who worked in silence as the family said goodbye to those they would never see again. Of course, many of believed in an afterlife but despite all his studying of folklore for his blogs and all the ghost stories he had ever read, Brian felt he was sure that we didn't get second chances. Something in him refused to believe we did and that the here and now was all we got and if it got cut short, well, life, my friend, didn't give a damn.

Standing at the foot of the mound, Brian made out the words carved in stone.

Ellie Marie Mason, January 10, 1982--

And there...seeing the words drove it home with the finality of a sledgehammer striking a stone in two.

Elijah Jason Connors, November 11, 1980-June 6, 2018.

_ _ As Brian stood there, he flashed back to that camping trip he had taken with Elijah. They had been fishing and nothing had been biting for hours. Brian remembered sitting there on the edges of the river banks, a cooler of beer open between them, the ice melting, the sun high in the sky, both of them stripped to the waist, the sun warming them gently. Elijah's fur had gleamed in that light, turning a tawny gold, the dark markings on his face, ears and hands standing out in stark contrast.

_ "Hey, Bri. You ever think about what comes after?" Elijah had asked, cracking open a beer. The foam had spewed a bit on his fur and he shook it off before taking a long drink,._

_ The question had been an odd one considering the circumstances._

_ "No, not really. Why?" Brian had replied, sipping on his own beer, the cold washing down his throat._

_ "No reason really. Ellie and I have been getting pretty serious, man. She's talking living wills and stuff, you know. I didn't think about it really until she brought it up. I guess if I have to go, I wanna be buried under a big fucking oak tree...big ass view. I don't want to feel like I'm stuck. Want to be able to see for miles."_

_ "You won't see anything because you'll be in a box, you dofus." Brian chuckled, adjusting his fishing line._

_ "Nah, man. You can see. There's more than this life. I want em to sing a song too. You need to be sure they do it if I croak before you."_

_ Brian laughed. "Me? And what song is that?"_

_ Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Well hell, the only song that a proper Scotsman sings at a funeral. Loch Lomond!"_

_ "Loch what?" Brian asked, amused and bewildered, never having heard it._

_ Elijah laughed. "Fuck me, you've never heard it? Best shit ever. Drinking song some say, some say it's a funeral song. I don't give a fuck as long as its sung. My mom used to sing it to me as a kid. Put me to sleep."_

_ "You're about as Scottish as a Big Mac," Brian shot back good naturedly._

_ "Seriously! It goes like this!"_

_ Elijah had drunkenly burst out into song a moment later, his deep voice vibrating the air, quite out of tune and slurring his words and Brian had howled with laughter._

It had been a good summer that year.

As the wind ruffled his fur, Brian looked down and instead of a mound of earth, he saw Elijah's smiling face, that warm furry face with its flashing white smile and bright eyes. His eyes had been what made Brian fall for him. His constant presence.

Brian took a trembling breath and felt his throat clinch and his eyes were wet again as he begun to sing, as best as he could, quietly, in the shadow of the great oak tree on a hill with a view for miles. He pulled the words from that summer day by the river.

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,

Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,

Where me and my true love will never meet again

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

O you take the high road, and I'll take the low road,

And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,

But me and my true love will never meet again,

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

He pronounced them as best as he could, knowing he murdered some of them but it didn't matter. His voice trembled as he sung, a bit off key, shaking as eyes grew misty. As the words went on, he found strength in them, and his voice got louder, still slightly off key but stronger than he thought he could muster and at last, the words fell silent, fading on the twilight evening as the first stars began to show.

The next words he knew needed to be finally spoken, to be heard at last.

"Elijah..."

"....I love you, man. I truly do."

The shadow of the oak tree draped itself over Brian shoulders and for a few moments, he didn't hold his emotions back. He had no need to, here, alone. He wept openly, and didn't try to stop himself. This release was what he needed; he needed the time to mourn. He had been robbed of it with all the chaos but now, it was his time. No one could take that from. All the pent up pain he had buried this past week was unleashed and it poured out of him like a raging river.

After a while and he wasn't sure how long it was, the river gradually dried up and faded into the wet and dry throat and nose that always accompanied such grieving. His eyes burned but the tears had stopped and he did his best to collect himself. In a moment, he was calm again, relatively and was able to speak again.

Brian knew he had to go. Life wasn't going to let him stay as the green grass turned into purple waves as night began to fall, the breeze began to cool. Tearing himself away, he stepped back and took a final look at Elijah's final resting place.

"Good bye, my friend....some day. Maybe."

Drawing in a deep breath to re-center himself, Brian headed back down the hill, grateful he could not see in the dark, his hands in his jeans pockets, his mind a million miles away from the soft violet hills of the cemetery as the moon rose over the horizon. He reached the gates just as the caretaker was closing them. He was a grizzled man with a harsh face but he took one look at Brian's eyes and said nothing more as the black furred shifter moved past him and got into the waiting truck that had parked a bit away from the gates.

Max sat behind the wheel, his hand on the ignition, and when he looked at Brian, he saw someone different than he had been before. He was changed someone and he couldn't put his finger on it. Brian was quiet, his green eyes shimmering in the dark of the cab. The dash lights reflected gently in Max's yellow gleaming irises.

Brian noticed Max looking at him and before Max could ask, Brian told him.

"Saying goodbye to someone....I'm fine. Let's go, if it's okay. I need some time to think."

"Sure, man. We can go."

With a soft rumble that Brian didn't hear, the truck's engine came to life and they were back on the road and this time Max was in charge of their destination, and as far as Brian knew, they were headed to Draco's home, which, apparently, by the direction they were headed, was outside of the city and more into the mountains surrounding it.

That was fine, Brian thought, lost behind his eyes, seeing it in his reflection of the passenger window. That was fine because right now all he wanted was time. A wound had been ripped open days ago and had festered but now, on that hill, perhaps, he thought, saying goodbye to the man he had loved as a friend and more, just maybe, that would begin to heal.

He thought it would and simply closed his eyes for the rest of the drive.

_ _Outside the truck window, the sky had finally grown dark and they had left the city behind a while ago, its lights now nothing more than a light blur on the distant ocean of black, where the curve of the earth was barely just visible. The scenery had faded from towers of concrete and steel, to smaller older buildings and finally had given way to rolling hills and thick forests. Highways had given way to boulevards and finally, an exit later, had became an older two lane road surrounded on both sides by wild ancient sentinels, trees that had seen the Revolutionary War and god knew what else.

_ _Over head, the moon had risen high into the sky and the stars took the place on the stage, twinkling vibrantly. A tiny red and green dot moved slowly across the ebony velvet sky, a plane, moving silently to some far off place. Brian felt the thrum of the well tuned engine as the Ford wound its way ever closer to the Keesogs, a range of mountains that tapered down from the Appalachian trails. Its name came from the Mahican tribes but Brian couldn't remember what it meant at the moment. His brain was numb and for the first time in what felt like hours, he felt his hand going numb.

_ _ Blinking, he remembered where he was.

_ _He was still in the truck with Max, on the road, his chin resting on his hand, his arm sitting on the window sill, staring into his reflection, no longer even noticing the glow of his eyes. Upon sitting up to shake feeling back into his hand, he realized his back and ass was stiff. Stretching as best as he could, he heard his bones crack in his shoulders, the black and grey plush leather seats creaking as he did.

_ Jesus._

_ _Looking at the clock on the black and grey accented dashboard, he saw the digital clock on the radio gleaming with its white LCD numbers. The radio played, its volume barely above a silent whisper.

_ 7:10 PM._

_ _ That shocked him. How long had they been on the road now?

_ _ "Hey..." he asked his voice quiet and tired, lost just as much as he was. Thinking right now was like struggling to breath water.

_ _"How long have we been on the road, Max? Where does Draco live?" Brian finished, rubbing feeling back into the arm he had been leaning on. He noticed that his nose had left a nose print on the glass of the passenger window and he cleaned it away with the tail of his shirt.

_ _Max sat behind the wheel, his hands on the thick black steering wheel, the instrument panel light casting a faint azure glow onto his soft gray fur. He hadn't spoken the entire trip, leaving Brian in the peace of his own thoughts. Peace. If only, Brian thought with a mental "as if." Max looked over at him briefly, his eyes glowing yellow in the dark of the cab.

_ _"A while; Draco lives pretty far out from the city and he likes his privacy. Its an old house out in the middle of nowhere practically. You get cell service and DSL. That's about it and that's only half the time it seems." He told Brian, slowing and then gently accelerating through a curve, a grove of trees reaching over the road, making a natural tunnel.

_ _"Damn. A few hours then. At least two and a half. My ass is numb." Brian frowned, wiggling his hips to get blood flow back into his nether regions. He caught Max nodding a bit in agreement.

_ _"Know what you mean. I'm not a fan of long road trips. Haven't been out this way in a long time. I thought you feel asleep so I tried to keep quiet."

_ _ Brian shook his head. "Nah, was just...thinking. I think. I kind of zoned out for most of it, seems like."

_ _"Yeah you were pretty out there," Max agreed, trying to be personable. As they came out of the curve, the headlights of the truck picked out a long dark stretch of road, straight and with clear fields on either side, the high grass swaying in the night breeze, the moonlight transforming the rolling amber waves into an ocean of silver gray.

_ _After a few minutes of silence, Max tried to talk to Brian and Brian noticed it was awkward, not because Max didn't want to but because, Brian could sense, that Max simply wasn't used to interacting with people much.

_ _"So...uh...did you get a hold of your friend...what's her name...?"

_ _Brian told him. "Ellie and yeah, I did."

_ _ "How'd that go?" Max asked and Brian saw Max's expression tell him what Brian already suspected which was that shifter hearing was very acute. He must have heard the conversation even in the living room, yet he still had tried to give Brian his space. That counted for points.

_ _Brian shrugged as best as he could, and sat back in his seat with a sigh, partly of being road tired and just tired of all the emotional roller coasters he'd been on the last few days.

_ _"She seemed to blame me. I tried to tell her what I could but it wouldn't come out right. I don't know why I didn't just tell her. We've been friends since I moved here...she's a shifter too. I don't know why I couldn't, man. I just...locked up."

_ _"Blame you?" Max asked, taking a quick glance at Brian before he turned his attention back to the road. "For what?"

_ _ "I guess for not being there for her, abandoning her. We were all pretty close. Hung out a lot." Brian replied, crossing his arms and nestling back into the leather seat, stretching his now longer legs. He felt his toe joints pop and that felt wonderful.

_ _"Huh. You could try telling her the truth. Maybe she'd understand. I mean, you can't exactly hide it forever. It's not a crime or anything to be what we are..."

_ _When Brian didn't reply, Max finished. "It's just a bit harder from time to time."

_ _ "Yeah. I'm learning that I guess."

_ _For a moment, an expression crossed Max's muzzle and Brian couldn't figure out what it was. It seemed like disbelief or maybe doubt. As quick as it had came, it melted away into the shadows.

_ _"I take it that's who you went to see at the cemetery then...your friend." Max softly stated, and Brian could sense that he meant no harm, so he merely nodded in reply.

_ _"What about work? Are you going to tell them?" Max asked as he slowed to a halt at a lonely stop sign at a four way stop. Taking a left turn, the truck bounced onto a more rural road, this more pitted, rougher, cracked with age. The trees had slowly begun to creep back up in thickness along the roadside and soon the moon was blotted out behind them, the mountains now closer than ever.

_ _"I don't know, Max. It's a pretty inclusive place but I guess right now...I just need to get used to it before I start asking anyone else to, if that makes sense." Brian replied, his ears twitching a bit.

_ _"I understand. I can't help you learn about shifting or anything, that'll have to be Raven but if you...you know...have questions...you can ask me. I'll tell you up front, I suck at dealing with people. I'm not used to it. I'll probably be blunt and you'll think I'm an asshole."

_ _That made Brian smile a bit. The self depreciation in Max's voice was...charming? Yes. It was charming.

_ _"That's okay. I'd rather deal with people who are blunt than bullshitting."

_ _ "A-fucking-men." Max agreed heartily and they drove for a while more, the road gradually becoming more and more curvy and Brian could tell they were on an incline, slowly ascending the mountains. With a slight pressure in his head, Brian felt his ears pop.

_ _ Deciding to take advantage of the moment, Brian plunged in, eager to move forward a bit, to get some distance between his own mind and at the same time, satisfy some of his own curiosity.

_ _ "Okay, first question."

_ _ He saw Max grin a bit. "Shoot."

_ _ "Silver. Is it true?"

_ _Max actually chuckled. Brian had never heard him laugh. That tiny brief chuckle was the closest he had ever heard Max come to a laugh. It wasn't cruel but rather just amused.

_ _"Well, it hurts like anything else when it stabs you but if you mean do we have a special weakness to it, no. We don't. It's just another metal."

_ _"What about full moons?"

_ _Max took one hand off of the wheel and jerked a thumb up towards the windshield. Brian looked and saw the moon was full, a hanging bloated disc of pale silver in the sky, its surface pocked by craters and unmarred by clouds or the smog of the city.

_ _ "Oh. Well, I guess since I'm not slobbering fiend, that answers that."

_ _Putting his hand back on the wheel, Max told him. "No, moon has nothing to do with it. From what I understand from what Raven's told me, its hormonally driven. Higher emotions can do trigger a change. Some people get talented enough to where they can shift just a part of their bodies. Just takes time, I guess. I wouldn't know."

_ _"The biting part I know already I guess. It was way more complicated that I thought..." Brian added under his breath. Max caught it and nodded.

_ _"Yeah. I've heard its messy for those who don't have whatever it is that you did. I don't even know why--"

_ _ Brian interrupted him. "Why you bit me?" The question wasn't angry or accusatory now.

Now, it was just genuine curiosity.

_ _ "I guess I just...just didn't want to lose anyone else. I spend a lot of time on the streets almost every night...I try to make a difference....to...make up for losing my family. I don't ever get to see what happens of the people...their faces blur after a while. I never know their names. But you...for some reason, man, you were different."

_ _ "Huh." Brian replied, not sure how to respond that nugget of honest blunt truth.

_ _Brian felt the truck slow and then it turned, leaving the main road behind, the wheels suddenly crunching on gravel.

_ _ "This is the road that goes to the house. Private road. Not marked. Goes for about half a mile into the woods."

_ _ "We gotta be up a decent amount. I felt my ears pop a while back." Brian said, now more alert than before, looking out the windows, seeing nothing now but dark trees as they enveloped the road itself and a moment later, their arching branches and thick leaves cut off any view of the sky and they were surrounded by a tunnel of greenish black.

_ _ "A fair bit, I guess."

_ _ Ahead the gravel road with its tree roof canopy went on and after what felt like forever, the headlights of the truck splashed onto a gateway. It was black, wrought iron, set into an old, thick set of gate posts that themselves made up part of a six foot high brick and stone fence. The brick and stone were well weathered, faded with time but the grounds around the fence (a wall really, his mind argued) were well manicured and obviously cared for. The iron gate itself look just as ancient, its black gleam reflecting in the bright halogen lights. Its top was rounded and there in the center of the gate where the two halves met, was a heavy iron circle and the metal was cut into a shield, shaped and formed into a coat of arms.

_ _ On the shield was what appeared to be the figure of a howling wolf, noble and beyond it, a crown encased with crossed set of arrows and ivy. Words were carved around the shield, following its curve and Brian squinted to read them as Max pulled up to the call box.

_ Is Fortitudinem Mutare. _

_ _ Brian head the beeps as Max keyed in a code and looked over to see the call box itself. It was a very modern piece of technology with a glowing blue flat screen made of Gorilla Glass, practically unbreakable. The same kind of glass made up his iPhone. It was set into a thick metal frame with a dark rounded lens near the top, a grilled speaker and a tiny hole at the bottom. On the bottom of the screen itself, a live video feed showed the top of the truck they were in, the colors the unique shade of electric green that infra-red light tended to give its subjects. Above the feed was a set of buttons outlined in white on the digital pad. Numbers, a call button and a transmit key.

_ _ Brian didn't see the code Max entered but a moment later, he leaned back into the truck and rolled up as his window as the gate hummed and a moment later, with a clanking of metal and a turning of gears, electric motors engaged and the shield on the gate split in two as it swung wide to let them pass.

_ _ As the gates swung closed behind them in the red fire of the truck's taillights, Brian turned around to face back through the windshield, raising an eyebrow at Max.

_ _ "That was decidedly more high tech that I expected."

_ _Max grinned a bit again, this time fondly. It didn't fade so fast this time.

_ _ "Draco has a good IT team. Well, a person, not a team, but a damn good one."

_ _The drive up to the house itself was marked by softly lit well trimmed trees on either side of the road and well mown lawns, now dark in the night but by morning light would be a succulent verdant green. The gravel crunching under the tires was a familiar sound to Brian and it made him think of the nights when he was younger and his dad came home. The apartment complex they had lived in had a gravel parking lot and the sound of crunching gravel always meant that his dad was there, safe with his mom and himself.

_ _Until of course, it meant otherwise but for now, Brian tried to move past the darkness he had been constantly thrown in and pulled back from and he succeeded, only if by a small measure, it was still movement none the less.

_ _The driveway turned opened and there, slowly coming into view was the house itself and grounds rose out of the darkness, its windows aglow with soft amber light.

_ _To the farthest left of the house was a large garage which was larger than the homes that some people lived in. The doors were shut so he could not see inside of it. The garage appeared connected to the house and it was the house itself that held Brian's attention.

_ _It was nothing more or less than a castle; at three stories high, the home was titanic in size. It stretched back farther than he could see. At each corner, large towers rose up, each topped with battlements. The home itself was square and flat roofed. Smaller additions to the house that seemed relatively modern abutted out of the left and right sides of the home next to the garage.

_ _The house itself was constructed of brick and stone, with the foundation stones being rounded and well worn but far sturdier than any modern material. The brick was dark red, faded and pale in places with age and wear. Ancient willow trees had been planted near the back of the house and they loomed over the home, their long trailing vines and leaves cascading down like green capes. Brian counted and saw that, just from where he could see there at least twenty maybe more windows on the front side alone, each one large and made of old glass, glass that was probably hand blown. A chimney rose from either side of the house. The front door, he saw was reached by a low set of marble stairs, creamy gray in color and polished to a shine. There were no handrails. The front door itself was nearly as tall and made of ancient wood, dark with time and probably stronger than steel. He saw that the door had a knocker carved out of bronze in the shape of a wolf's head.

_ _The driveway itself curved into a round-about, leading back down the road they had just pulled up from. Soft garden lights highlighted the house grounds, with each light placed at well thought out intervals, giving the grounds a gentle warm welcoming feel. Surrounding the house, thick forests went on for miles and in the distance, the mountains of the Keesogs rose and loomed closer than ever.

_ _ As the truck came to stop and Max killed the engine, Brian saw another set of cars had arrived here before them and was parked in the round-about. The one closest to the truck was a curvy and aerodynamic candy apple red Subaru Impreza, its windows tinted darkly and its trim accented with a deep black. Parked in front of the Subaru was a large SUV, a jet black Expedition or Tahoe, Brian couldn't tell which. He did hear a noise from beside him that made the fur the on the back of his neck go up.

_ _A low and deadly growl.

_ _ "What's he doing here..." Max said, eyeing the black SUV, speaking more to himself than to Brian or anyone else. Without a word to Brian, Max yanked his seat belt clear and a moment later, was out of the truck, the door slamming behind him.

_ _ Confused, Brian hurried after him as best as he could, his legs refusing to move as fast as he needed them to in order to keep up with Max's slightly longer stride.

_ _"What's who doing here?" Brian called after him, and getting no response, he shrugged and forced his stiff lights to move faster.

_ _Wordlessly Max charged into the house, throwing the door open, not running and not walking at the same time, his movements purposeful, the muscles in his neck and shoulders standing out, flexing under the fur of his arms. Brian saw him ball his powerful hands into fists and his ears flatten to his skull entirely. The fur on the back of Max's neck was on end as well, giving him a terrifying appearance.

_ _"Max, wait..." Brian tried, stopping briefly to shut the door behind him, wincing at how loud it was in the large entry hall. The house's interior was just as stunning as the exterior. The walls were made of rich hand carved wood, and the floor was white marble polished to a mirror shine. Gentle modern sconces provided soft gentle light and a sweeping staircase rose before them, leading up and into the house's upper floors. A large hanging chandelier made of glass and brass chain hung down the stairwell, casting golden light, effusing the whole foyer and entrance hall with a gentility and grace that belied the home's obvious years.

_ _ His booted feet slapping roughly against the hard stone floors, Max turned to the left and a moment later, he and Brian came to a set of closed oak doors. Max didn't even stop. He threw them open violently, the wood banging off the walls, and in a mirror on the far wall, Brian caught a glimpse of Max's face. It was the same face Max had worn when he attacked those gang members: his eyes blazing yellow with hate, his hackles raised, fists clenched and fangs bared.

_ _ His chest heaving, Max took one look at the figure seated in the chair closest to the door and snarled a simple deadly question.

_ _"What the hell are you doing here you son of a bitch?"

_ _ Seeing past him, Brian saw the target of his angry inquiry.

_ In that instant, Brian's brain screamed to flee, or fight. Warning bells screamed silently in his head wailing _DANGER DANGER DANGER. He felt his the flesh and fur on his balls creep and his fur stood on end slightly.

_ _The person sitting in the plush armchair in front of them was a shifter and whether or not he was a full generation like Max, Brian couldn't tell but he was definitely in his wolf form and he was one of the largest people Brian had ever seen. The werewolf was enormously broad and every inch of him was layered in pure muscle. He was a walking tank. His hands were as big as Brian's head and when he stood, Brian knew that he would be at least seven feet high. Well groomed and wearing dark pants and a black sweater with patches on the shoulder (what the British called a "wooly" his mind told him absently), the werewolf sat calmly, his dark shoed feet planted firmly under his massive and powerful legs.

_ _His face was savagely aquiline, with a noble and thick set muzzle tipped in a black nose. His body seemed to strain the confines of the sweat and pants and Brian very well thought he could probably crush a car like a tin can. At the moment, he sat with his thick arms resting neutrally on the arms of the chair, his fingers tipped in sharp black but short claws. His ears stood at attention and his eyes looked up at Max with a languid ease, as if Max were merely an annoyance that he was tolerating and would crush at his leisure as soon as it was convenient for him. One of his jet black eyebrows move slightly up.

_ _The one thing that stood out most to Brian was the color of the werewolf's eyes.

_ _ Like his fur, both of his irises were a deep maroon-red and when the light hit them, they twinkled slightly, turning the color of fresh blood.

_ _The image was made more solid in Brian's imagination: he pictured the werewolf in a like he was wearing a coat of blood, no, rising out of it, born of it, naked, the thick fluid dripping from his fur, his fangs and powerful body as he ascended to loom over obsidian as mortal death come to reap anyone who got in his way.

He shuddered as a chill crept down his spine.

_ _The huge shifter said nothing to Max but instead turn his canine features back towards a rich and cultured voice that came from the chair opposite him. Brian turned his gaze there and saw an equally large werewolf, but unlike the blood colored furred monstrosity that loomed in the chair before them, this werewolf was a deep gray with gentle kind eyes the color of an ocean's wave at sunset. He was well groomed and dressed in a tailored suit that fit him well, the dark fabric contrasting nicely with his naturally coloring. His ears were straight and calm, at attention but not at alert. He had long straight hair and like the rest of him, it was gray and had been pulled back into a neatly combed pony tail.

_ _"Max, please. Not now. I asked him to come because I needed Rakinos and his expertise to help us understand," the gray wolf said, indicating with a slight knod past Max himself at Brian. "Our mutual new friend."

_ _Rakinos, the blood colored monster, simply gave Max a cold smile and spoke. His voice sent chills down Brian's spine. It was a deep measured baritone. He spoke calmly, his words enunciated carefully and clearly.

_ _"I did come quite a ways up here. There aren't many experts in the fields of lycanthropic genetics and as much as Draco and myself differ on...many subjects...your particular problem caught my attention. Unless you would prefer I refer you all to Madison Genetics, of course."

_ _Max stepped forward and Brian saw him go to raise his balled fist back.

_ _ "Max. Stop it. Now."

_ _ Raven. Brian finally saw her peek out from behind the chair that wasn't facing him. She looked tired and drawn, strained.

_ _Her voice caused Max to pause and he began to move anyway and then he stopped. His blazing yellow eyes caught a glimpse of Brian in the background in the mirror and something stopped him. He slowly lowered his fist and growled low in his throat.

_ _"You're lucky." He snarled at Rakinos before moving away from the bigger shifter, taking up a standing stance next to Draco, his arms crossed, his large biceps flexed, his forearms tense as he crossed his arms. He looked as if he wanted to kill the bigger shifter and Brian though if he was ever turned loose, he would certainly try.

_ _ "Look, I don't want to cause any more trouble. There's been enough of that...I just need answers." Brian spoke up, unaware of where he found the courage to even open his mouth as he stepped forward a bit, easing more towards Raven and putting a few healthy feet of space between himself and Rakinos.

_ _The guy creeped him out and he didn't know why.

_ _ Draco's face grew warm and he smiled gently. His accent...Brian couldn't place it. Scottish, maybe? It was very light, lilting and rolled off his tongue like a warm breeze.

_ _ "Brian is it? Raven's told me all about you. She came up here just as I came in from Washington and you are not going to cause trouble. We'll help you anyway we can. Please, have a seat and I'll introduce myself and..." Draco took a long and meaningful look at Rakinos, choosing his words carefully. "...And my associate. We'll see if we can find some answers for you. In the mean time, try to relax. You're safe here. I tend to have a knack for sorting out lost causes and getting them back on their feet. Something of a favorite past time." Draco looked at Max proudly, and Brian saw the look of a proud father to a favored son.

_ _Brian carefully made his way across the room, giving Rakinos a wide berth and took a seat next to Draco with Max on his left. Looking up at Max, Brian gave him the tiniest surreptitious nod that he would be fine.

_ _ Max didn't return the gesture but his eyes acknowledged that he had seen it and his irises slowly faded from the burning yellow to his more gentle blues but he never took those eyes off of Rakinos, who in turn, gave Max every moment of that glare right back, without so much as flinching and instead, showed only the most polite interest.

_ _ Now, surrounded by friendly faces and faces that provided another yet as of now unknown quality, surrounded by walls of ancient books and paintings, with artifacts under glass, in this library, Brian turned his attention to Draco who in turned, faced the young new werewolf.

"Now, start the beginning. I want to hear everything from your point of view." Draco said warmly.

In the two hours it took Brian to tell him, Raven had taken two more blood samples from him; Brian wouldn't let Rakinos touch him. They had headed off deeper into the manor and Max had gone with them, keeping himself between Raven and Rakinos like a guard dog. Brian hadn't seen Max's ears lift once since they had arrived and the tension in the room had been unbearable. Privately, he actually glad the three of them had left. It made talking to Draco easier. Draco himself was one of those people who you instantly trusted, Brian found. Talking to him was like breathing. At first, he had been hesitant but as he continued, Brian found that the details he knew and the details he was told flowed easily into a conversation that even now continued. Draco did not interrupt him and instead waited for moments, natural pauses, where he could ask a question here or there. They were few and far between, sprinkled like seasonings.

Draco seemed to be totally at ease with Brian as well, as if he had known him for years. His manner was open and calm, and he was a careful listener. As they talked, Brian had found himself moving around the room, finding sitting making him anxious. Movement, it seemed helped. The room itself was bigger than his apartment, he noted, wryly. Every wall in it was loaded with books; the books were all colors, sizes and ages. Some were so new as to be glossy. Others, so ancient, he thought that if he touched them they would fall apart. He recognized many of the names: Blake, Tolstoy, and of course, Shakespeare. There were also names he didn't recognize like Grimmwolf, Bleddynnson and Rowe. One he did recognize because it stuck out among the rest as it was a series of medical and science books labled with Madison Genetics logo on them.

In between the shelves were display cases, some covered in sealed glass. Items varied from case to case. Some were books so old that putting them on a shelf was dangerous. One he noticed was entirely in Latin and had images in it of dog-headed men carrying baskets and there, on the wall, he also noticed a familiar face.

St. Christopher.

Only this St. Christopher was different from most depictions of him. In most depictions, he was seen in white robes, a darker robe draped around his shoulders, his dark hair and beard framing his tanned face, a scepter in one hand and a cherub on his shoulder. This depiction, Brian noted as he passed it caused him to pause in his story and take a closer look.

This depiction of St. Christopher was in a much older form and style, more abstract than the later ones Brian had seen on the medals Catholics wore on their necks. This man was tall, powerfully built, and armed with a long staff. He was dressed in black and green armor with a flowing red cape that draped around his shoulders. What was most striking was in this in painting, he wasn't human at all, but rather resembled nothing less than a full generation werewolf or a shifter in their wolf form. A thick strong neck led up from his fur covered shoulders to his canine features and head, his muzzle sharp and his ears tall, his amber eyes glaring out at the viewer. He was covered in reddish-brown fur and his head was tilted towards the sky.

Draco spoke softly to him, in the moment, breaking the sudden quiet.

"Do you know who that is?" he asked, his voice gentle. Brian's right ear perked backwards, jumping towards Draco's voice.

Brian looked back at him, his hands in his jeans pockets, his tail flicking with his own curiosity.

"Yeah," he said, his tone confused but also wanting more. "That's St. Christopher, right? That's what the Greek around the top says."

"You can read Greek?" Draco asked from his chair, his eyebrows moving up in surprise. Brian shook his head.

"Nah, I can't but I can make out enough of the letters. I'm a writer. I like to collect folklore and stories, but this...this seems familiar somehow."

"I take it you aren't religious?" Draco asked, standing and crossing the room to stand next to Brian. His broad strong form towered over the younger werewolf, his looming presence softened by the gentility in his noble eyes. He held one arm at the elbow, while the other stroked the fur on his chin like a man will do to his beard when he is thoughtful. It was an unconscious action, Brian thought, reading his body language.

"Nope. No one in my family really was. Except for my uncle Donny but he was a lunatic." Brian told him, moving his eyes back to the painting.

"Have you ever heard of the legend of St. Christopher and how he came to be a part of the church?" Draco asked, looking up at the painting thoughtfully.

With a shake of his head, Brian told Draco that he had in fact not ever thought about that particular question.

As Draco talked, Brian felt his eyes move up to meet St. Christopher's and there he was transfixed by the warrior's gaze.

"The earliest stories say that Christopher's name before he was baptized was Reprobus and that he was what is called a cynocephali, "dog-headed" man. It was said that he sought out the most powerful kings of his day and went to serve them. Finding what he thought was the most powerful king, he served him until one day, he saw the king shudder in fear of devil. Deciding to seek out this devil and serve him, Reprobus sought out the devil and after many weeks, found a man calling himself just that in a band of roaming marauders. He ran with them for a time before seeing that the fearless leader was in fact scared of a symbol, the Christian cross when he refused to stand in front of it."

The corner's of Draco's mouth turned upward in a bit of amusement as he continued his tale, his gaze moving from Brian to the armored man in the painting above. The younger werewolf, he noted, was enthralled by the story. That pleased him because most young people these days had no patience for anything longer than a thirty second sound bite.

"After learning that the devil feared this Christ, Reprobus sought out Christ and instead found an old hermit. The hermit instructed him in the ways of Christian ideals and beliefs about Christ and finally, the day came when Reprobus wanted to consecrate himself to his new ruler that even the devil feared. The hermit told him that fasting and prayer was one way and Reprobus said he couldn't so the hermit told him of another way. He told him that nearby was a river that flooded its banks and made crossing it dangerous and that many people had already died in the attempts to reach the other side. Suggesting with his powerful build, Reprobus could carry the people across on his shoulders to safety and that Christ would be pleased with him for doing so, the hermit told him that this action would be sufficient."

"So, what, he carried people across the river on his back?" Brian asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his green eyes glinting in the warm glow from the wall sconces.

"Indeed he did, so they say until one day a child asked to be carried across. Thinking the task would be easy, he picked the child up and let him ride on his shoulders. Half way out into the raging water, the river began to flood and up to his neck in the water, Reprobus held tightly to the child, protecting him until they made it across and Reprobus set him down and told him: You have put me in the greatest danger. I do not think the whole world could have been as heavy on my shoulders as you were." The child replied: "You had on your shoulders not only the whole world but Him who made it. I am Christ your king, whom you are serving by this work." The child then faded away, leaving Reprobus stunned and finding a new found faith."

Draco noticed Brian's eyebrows go up at the last bit and smiled inwardly. This one, he thought, was wiser than he let on, perhaps.

"What happened then?" Brian asked thoughtfully.

"Stories say he wandered the lands, converting people to Christianity, protecting the weak and innocent, getting into quite a few more fights and battles. He came known as one of God's soldiers and was held in high regard by the people of his day. Of course, ever heroic story ends only one way," Draco said, a solemn look fading over his majestic features.

"I've read enough of the heroic cycle to know where this is going," Brian added gently. Draco nodded sagely.

"Indeed. You're right, of course. There came a battle after Reprobus traveled to the land of Lycea to comfort Christians who were being martyred there and there he was captured by the king. Demanding he worship his pagan gods, the king tortured Reprobus in every way imaginable, tempted him with women and more. Reprobus refused to convert and when he actually converted two of the women sent to tempt him, the king ordered him executed. They tried every manner they could think of and he simply would not die. At last, out of desperation, the king ordered him beheaded and so, Reprobus of Canaan met his fate that day in Lycea under the executioner's sword. He was later canonized by the Eastern Orthodoxy and became a patron saint of protection in Catholicism. They said prior to his final battle and capture before his death that he was baptized and when he came out of the baptism, he lost his canine features."

Brian looked up at Draco. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"What? The legend or the fact that he suddenly became human after his baptism?"

"The latter."

"Oh." Draco said, laughing gently. "No. Not at all. I believe our dear Reprobus, later named Christopher, was in fact, a werewolf, like you and me and that he was a shifter and simply changed form to fit in with his new found faith. He spent his life chasing glory and power and in the end, died a hero to the less fortunate, even if he sacrificed his identity."

"Were there others like him?" Brian asked, stepping back from the painting and towards the center of the room, the thick rug soft under his boots.

"Oh yes. The Cynocephali were an entire race. At least, according to the ancient Greeks. They were spread all over the world: India, Greece, Egypt. Most of the world thinks they were just myth but my research shows that they most likely just moved underground with time to avoid the persecution of the Christian advances, especially during the Crusades. I think that they were our ancestors, if not our place of origin, though some say our origins go back much farther than 248 BC. There are other myths and legends but I can't substantiate them. I can barely substantiate this, and I suffer my fair share of ridicule from scholars."

As Brian sat in one of the thick arm chairs, Draco did the same.

"This is a lot of information. There's a lot of the history I didn't know. They never talk about it on the news." Brian said, adjust his tail as he sat.

A dark look crossed like a storm cloud over Draco's face.

"Sadly true. We didn't really step forward as a people until just after World War 2 and ever since then, there has been chaos. Most of us want to live peaceful lives and just exist. Others," Draco said, and Brian saw his gaze fall to the chair were Rakinos had occupied earlier. "Others have their own ideas about what should be done to address our current civil rights crisis. In the last year, four separate bills have been introduced to regulate shifters in some way and I've spent nearly all of my time fighting them and so far have managed to keep them at bay but this last one....this registration bill...given the current political climate, is gaining more traction than I might be able to turn aside. People are afraid, right now. People are angry and confused and when they are such, they do regrettable things. Terrible things."

"I've seen the protests, the marches. Hell, Twitter blew up last month remember, with that hash tag...what was it? Furry lives matter?" Brian replied as Draco winced at the name.

"A well intentioned but misguided attempt. A finality that most people do not seem to understand in this life, is good intentions and movements are nothing without action and resistance, peacefully, to make a point." The older werewolf told him.

"And here you are," Draco said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, looking Brian up and down. "A young man minding his own business, tossed into our world of politics and violence, of chaos and uncertainty and are now expected to navigate it. I imagine you've been asked a thousand times by this point, especially by Raven but, how are you dealing with...all this?" he asked, and with a wave of his hand, indicated everything.

Brian shrugged. "To be honest, Mr. Riley, if someone asks how I am one more time or asks for one more blood sample I might go crazy. Well, crazier than I already am."

Draco smiled at that. The young man was honest and blunt. He reminded Draco of Max a few years ago with the same stubborn spirit.

"I'll take that to mean you are holding strong. I know what its like to be tossed into chaos and expected to swim. You seem to be doing well, I have to admit."

Brian hmmphed gently. "Haven't had much of a choice. Things moved so fast if I didn't roll with it I would have been ran over like road kill."

"I wish I had more answers to give you other than stodgy speculative history. The truth is, Mr. MacGregor, that we don't know much more than you do about what we are or where we come from. We know basics and that's all. As for your specific situation," Draco told him and he seemed to consider his next words very carefully. "As for your specific situation, I must admit, in my...considerable years...I've never encountered a case quite like yours. You truly are unique to my knowledge."

"How many years qualify as considerable?" Brian asked, not being rude but as he had proven to Draco so far, driving home right for the point immediately. He actually smiled a bit when he answered.

"One hundred and fifteen."

He felt a chuckle threaten to rise from his throat when he saw Brian's eyes go wide. The poor boy's jaw nearly dropped open.

"Say that again..." Brian asked shocked.

"One hundred and fifteen as of three weeks ago."

"That's impossible...."

"Mr. MacGregor, you live in a world where people can change their shapes at will, where we can transport molecules across space and time and freeze light in place. I think, with all due respect, you may need to redefine your definition of that word." Draco chided him gently.

Brian did some mental math quickly. Math was never his strong suit but this was fairly easy and the result gobsmacked him.

"That means you were born in 1903. You were nine years old when the Titanic sank."

"Indeed I was. I was nearly on that ship, by the way. Fortunately, my mother simply refused to set foot on it. She made my father wait a further two years after Titanic went down before we immigrated from Scotland to New York. My father worked in construction once we arrived and eventually made enough capital that we invested in Manhattan real estate, which as you can imagine turned out to be quite profitable."

"How can you be over a century old? You don't...well....I don't know much about how shifters age ...but hell...you don't look it or act it or sound it...how?" Brian asked, the revelation dumb founding him.

Nodding Draco told him, and this time a chuckle did escape him.

"Something that is unique to us and our biology with our advanced healing factors is our life span. Once we hit our late forties, we seem to stop aging entirely and enter what appears to be a maintenance phase. Assuming we aren't killed violently, we are the world's first macro-celluar complex biologically immortal life-form. Something the news leaves out because most of them aren't aware of it. There are far older in existence than I am out there and over time, they learned to keep quiet and fade away, living peaceful lives and staying out of the public eye. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if it was ever discovered that shifters are basically immortal?"

Brian felt the world sway. That mean he too was now....the word stuck in his mind like a flaring signal light. It didn't seem real.

"I don't believe that...I can't..."

"I see. Well, take a look at these two images if you will. Perhaps that will help illuminate the matter for you. It's understandable, I admit." Draco replied calmly, and reached around to a side table, and picked up two picture frames. He handed them both to Brian who took them gingerly. Looking down at them, Brian saw they were two black and white images. Well, not black and white but rather sepia toned. The first thought to cross his mind was that these things were ancient.

The first image was a more intimate family portrait. It had been composed carefully and professionally. In it, a woman sat in a long floor length dress with a long sleeved white top. The neck and wrists of the top were delicate and made with a rich lace. Her hands were gentle and dainty, and her posture was straight and regal. Her eyes pierced the camera and like the necklace that glinted on her chest, her gaze was sharp and refined, wise and not to be trifled with yet she also had a kindness there behind the stiff presentation. Her thick rich dark hair was tied up into a neat bun. Behind her, a tall broad man stood, dressed in a dark suit, one arm by his side, the other resting lovingly on the woman's shoulder and there, in the middle of them, was a child. The child like his mother wore a long sleeved white shirt, dark stockings and shined black shoes. His shirt was tucked in and a white bow tie lay nestled under his neck.

The photo looked like countless ones he had seen online of the early 20th century family portraits. Nothing was out of place except...

Except that the entire family were werewolves, the father, the mother and the son, each one fully shifted into their wolf forms, ears and muzzles and fur well groomed and brushed to a shine. The little boy had a round face, his snout larger and his eyes as big as saucers. His tiny ears and big feet and tail made him for the entire world appear like a puppy that had been put into human clothing yet his human shaped hands wrapped around a wooden hoop caused a shudder to unconsciously run down Brian's back. The boy's eyes were the same as his mother's: intense and light colored, even in the sepia.

The next image was composed like the first, only it was a family at the docks, a massive black and white steam liner behind them. All around them the dock side bustled with activity and Brian noticed the one thing that stood out in the image. This family was human, entirely so, but the boy's eyes...those eyes, albeit a few years older, were the exact same as in the first image. These images were not altered. They were real which meant only thing.

Draco was telling the truth.

"You can change forms like Raven....it's true. You really are one hundred and fifteen years old...Jesus Christ....this is wild." Brian said, breathless as he handed the photo frames back to Draco who sat them carefully down in the original positions.

"Yes. I can change forms but in the last few years, I've preferred to say in my canine form. It helps me feel more energetic and it also helps people realize that not all shifters are the criminals we are portrayed as, nor are we monsters but people just wanting to live without fear." Draco said calmly and Brian heard the exhaustion of that fight in his voice. "Of course, it continues to be a taxing and largely stalemated fight at the present time."

"The question, Mr. MacGregor" Draco asked, turning to face Brian once he had gotten the frames where he wanted them. "Is whether or not you can as well...shift that is. Can you?"

Brian swallowed. It was a topic he had thought about, an idea that flitted through his brain in the quiet moments in the car ride up here, on the roof top that night with Max and in the bathroom as he looked in the mirror.

"I don't know. I wouldn't know how to try."

Nodding, Draco replied. "I see. With as much as has happened to you the last week, it's understandable. If it's permissible, I'd like to extend an offer for you to stay here for a few days, at the manor. I'd like to work with you and help you to see if you can and if you can, to master it. Raven told me you had managed to get quite a bit of time free from your work."

Having really no argument as to why he wouldn't and already set on asking if he could anyway, Brian quickly agreed.

"I'd appreciate that. Learning about what I can do seems like a decent way to get some solid ground under my feet. I was actually going to ask if I could stay with Max tonight and then come up here tomorrow. I think I need just a bit of time before I jump in. One night at least. Finally get my head straight and all."

"That would be fine as well. That way you can have time to process this. You've been through a living nightmare. I'd imagine some stability would be a welcome change. You are welcome to spend as much time as you need here. There's no one here but myself and a few others. You'll eventually run into Jackson when he isn't eye ball deep in his computers and network. He's my technology guru, so to speak. He's actually wired this entire house and grounds and he's quite a genius. Bear in mind he can be...awkward at times. He doesn't mean any harm but sometimes his brain works faster than his mouth can properly filter. He's quite dear to me. The other two people you'll see here besides myself are Mr. Roy Daniels, and he's been with my family for as long as I can remember. He keeps the house in order and lastly there is Miss. O'Hara. I would truly utterly be lost without her. She's my personal assistant and honestly, the closest friend I have. All of them are trusted and you can be assured they mean you no harm. "

Sighing in relief, Brian replied.

"I need some air for a bit. Just one question though. This house...it's huge. Why all this space just for you and a few others?"

Draco looked up at him as Brian stood up and made for the door to the main hall. He stood as well and he towered over Brian. His height was going to take some getting used to, especially the strange mix of refined gentility that seemed to be at odds with his fearsome (if he wanted it) appearance. The cloud returned over Draco's sea-ocean eyes and this time, Brian recognized it not as anger but as pain and Draco's tone told him all he needed to know and after Draco told him, Brian didn't press the matter.

"At one time, I had family living me. My brother and sister. They were born much later in my life and much closer to your birth year I'd imagine. My mother and father still resided here as well. My father had helped design and later built this house. He called it Forest Glen and for many years we lived here in peace. Then one summer, things changed. My sister passed away and my brother and I grew estranged. He left and I haven't spoken to him in some time, even though he works for the nightclub. He owns half of it. He won't speak to me so I give him his space. My mother and father moved back to West Lothian not longer after and we still talk from time to time, though its less frequent as the years go on. I stay here because it's where my family is...even if they are long gone. It's where I feel the most content. It's my home and I've filled it, I think in many ways with surrogate family members, Mr. Mullen and Miss. Jones among them for a time and now, I extend that to you, Mr. MacGregor."

Standing in that door way, looking at the older werewolf, Brian was struck by how lonely Draco looked and for a moment, he looked and sounded his age. Somehow, in that moment when he was speaking, Draco seemed to shrink a bit. Of course, it was a mental illusion but a strong one and Brian felt an unusual swelling of care for the old man. The look on Draco's face, the sound of his voice. Something stirred in him and Brian knew what it was, but he had not felt in so many years that he had nearly forgotten what it looked and sounded like.

It was the expression and tone a father took when talking with his son.

In that instant, Brian decided he genuinely liked Draco Riley and nodded in return silently and made his way outside for a breather. As he left, Draco stood in the door way and as the younger shifter vanished outside, the door closing softly behind him, Draco's expression hardened and drew together darkly, concern etching itself into his features as he considered all that he had heard and all that it implied.

*********

Max stood across the room, his blue gaze fixed on Rakinos like a snake on a rat, refusing to let the hulking werewolf out of his sight for a moment. He leaned against the wall, his jaw set hard and his tail flicking back and forth restlessly, his arms crossed in an X across his chest, fingers making fists unconsciously. Raven, Rakinos and himself were down in the mansion's science lab that once been a drawing room. Raven had helped Draco design and build it, while Jackson laid out the fiber optic systems that powered the super computer core that was the brain of the entire mansion itself. It was well hidden of course and this room was a stark contrast to the rest of the stately old home. This room was all glass and cold steel, very modern and filled with microscopes, three computer analysis stations, all tied into the Cray supercomputer in the basement tech room. The computer, Max knew was actually several refrigerator sized units packed with god only knew how many components and parts that he had never heard of but all in all, this lab made the one at the shelter look paltry. Many doctors and scientists would kill to have a lab like this and it had been built originally for Draco to help with the analysis of the lycanthropic genome project. Draco had been on the team helping the project with Dr. Harvey Madison and though the two no longer spoke, the lab had proven useful for studying the quirks of that results of that project, something that Raven had taken up as a personal hobby in her free time.

Rakinos, much to Max's distaste, had also helped with the original genome project but was kicked out of the project for wanting to take it into directions that were less than ethical and as much as he hated him, Max had to admit, the man knew his subject matter.

That didn't mean, Max thought, watching Rakinos work a microscope surprisingly deftly with his large hands, that Max didn't want to kill him several times over and take his time doing it. After his termination from the genome project, Rakinos had more or less vanished off the map and the world had seen little of him since and the fact that he had showed up now, boded ill in Max's opinion. The reason for his hatred that was as deep as the river's that had carved the grand canyon was simple.

There had been a clash of protestors at a peaceful rally in Baltimore several years ago. Draco and his sister had led a peaceful march in the city to bring attention to shifters rights, which at the time, were being threatened by a recent bill drawn up by Tennessee state senator Charles Arkly (Republican Party), which was intended to make schools segregated for shifters and non shifters, citing a clear and present danger to human children from accidental bites from shifter children, should there be a scuffle.

Draco and his sister had led the movement to oppose the bill and they had been met by counter protestors from right wing groups including the KKK and Odin's Spear. The rally had been peaceful until Rakinos had showed up with a group of his own protestors. Rakinos was of the mind that shifters and full generations alike were superior to what he considered was the failed evolution of the human race and made the point that, in his mind, shifters would eventually supplant non-shifters in an evolutionary shift of dominance. His crowd angrily pushed back against the KKK and Odin's Spear. Draco and his sister tried to keep the peace but the crowds were simply too big and the police could do little more than watch as a gun was pulled out and the sharp staccato of shots had wrong out. Rakinos's group clashed with the humanocentrists, and the fight had been brutal and brief. When it was done, Draco's sister had been killed by a gunshot wound to the head.

Max had been there, helping Draco as much as he could, though he generally tried to stay out of politics though honestly it was more out of a feeling of debt to the man who had taken him in and set his life back on track. One moment, she had been standing there, her auburn hair billowing and the next, she was gone with a single powerful crack of gun powder. In the ensuing chaos, Rakinos and his group made off before the police could question them but when Draco was calling for peace and Rakinos was calling for a more aggressive approach, Max held Rakinos responsible for the death of his mentor's sister. Barbara had been kind and gentle, fiercely alive and warm to anyone who approached her. She had been pursuing a degree in architectural design.

The fallout from her death split Draco's family and Max would never forgive Rakinos for inciting that riot. He'd rather eat rusty nails that were on fire. For Draco to reach out to Rakinos after all this time, showed how much of an unusual situation Brian really was. The fact that Rakinos had dared to even respond and actually show his face made Max even more furious.

"Mr. Mullen I can't solve your problem if you keep glaring at me"

Rakinos deep voice snapped Max back to the here and now and it angered him. Just the sound of it annoyed him and he stepped forward, his arms falling to his sides, fists clenched as he stopped before the lab table Rakinos was working on. Rakinos didn't even bother to look up from his work.

"Does my presence bother you? Irritate you?" the large blood colored werewolf asked, his voice putting on a reasonably fake and well done mask of sincerity, Max thought sickened.

"Yes." Max told him flatly and coldly. Rakinos looked up from the eye pieces momentarily and glanced up at Max.

"You can imagine my distress." He said simply and stood up straight as Raven crossed the room from the DNA analyzer that looked like a microwave with a touch screen.

"Will you two knock it off? What did you find from the samples?" she snapped at them, working herself between Max and Rakinos, pushing Max gently back from the table as she began to type furiously at a workstation, the screen flying by in windows, commands and numbers.

Rakinos turned his head only fractionally to look at her as he spoke.

"So far, nothing terribly special. Red blood cells count is normal, leukocytes are properly functioning and hormone levels have fully stabilized. Your data from earlier suggests there was an imbalance?"

Keeping her eyes on the screen, Raven refused to indulge Rakinos with so much as a look.

"Well, I've found the marker in Brian's DNA. The shifter gene was on the Y chromosome, so whomever the shifter was, he got it from his father's side. I don't think he knows but if he didn't have that dormant gene, he would be dead right now. It saved his life."

"Mr. Mullen, I have to admit, your samples are looking as boring and ineffectual as you are." Rakinos told Max bluntly. Max had given up blood and DNA samples as well. Raven had wanted to see if there was anything different about Max's make up that had enabled him to activate a dormant gene and so far, they had come up with nothing.

"Thanks. I'll take boring over fuck face any day." Max quipped angrily.

For the next fifteen minutes, the two scientists worked in silence, and Max stood guard, not trusting Rakinos to be alone with Raven or alone at all within ten miles of anyone he cared for. That bastard was a living waste of oxygen, Max thought and Max yearned to resolve that situation as roughly and painfully possible. One day but that day was not today, he reminded himself. He forced his tail to stop flicking back and forth and took a stance against the glass wall near the door.

Rakinos, in the mean time, paid neither Raven nor Max any mind. He had moved from the microscope to one of the analysis stations that was hooked into the super computer. He had lost himself in the scrolling numbers and the three dimensional model that represented Brian's genetic code on the screen. Certain segments were highlighted in orange, red and green, but one segment was coded in blue and it was that segment that fascinated him.

It was some type of protein, not one of the usual type associated with RNA information transfer but it was present in all the cells that Rakinos had taken from MacGregor's blood sample. The genes in the blue section seemed to control the transfer and encoding of information into the RNA which in turn was transferred to the cells of Brian's body for implementation and execution but it was the profile of this protein that was strange. It was a triple helix shaped thing, something he had never seen in all his time working for the genome projects or in his own personal studies.

This was something totally new.

He tried several simulations to simulate the action of the protein but so far all of them had failed. That is until he ran the most recent and final sequence paired with the coding in Brian's DNA profile. The program that was used her in the lab was a custom piece of software normally used by law enforcement to identify suspects but it had been tweaked by the admittedly genius touch of Ben Jackson, Draco's annoying and painfully awkward technology expert into something more. Now, it could be used to simulate the expression of genes in a given form, to see what the outcome would potentially be.

What Rakinos saw before him as he activated the final set of simulations on what the function of that protein could be made his red eyes widen and he quickly stifled a gasp. He felt the corners of his mouth pull up in amazement.

On the screen the model of lycan stand in reproduced in digital pixels stood next to a second human form that shifted into a lycan form once the protein was transferred from host to host even if that host lacked the original chromosomal shifter gene identifier. A complete and total horizontal genetic transfer and subsequent expression in the recipient host.

The implications were immense. If this simulation was true, it meant a total revolution in the understanding of lycanthropic science and in fact, confirmed many old legends and stories that science had disproven.

Until now.

This would change everything, he thought. All of his plans would change forever. This was the final key that he needed and here it was, handed to him on a silver platter. He needed to move quickly.

"Max can you help me a moment?" Raven asked and out of the corner of his eye, Rakinos saw Max move in to help Raven move a heavy set of analysis chemicals from one bench to another. In that moment of time, Rakinos moved swiftly; he took the DNA sample from Brian and shoved it deep into the pocket on his chest. It vanished like it had never existed. For good measure, he took the DNA sample from Max as well. He needed to confirm this revelation about Brian's true nature but not here, somewhere more accommodating.

He quickly erased his work from the hard drive and closed the programs down. Standing, he excused himself.

"I don't see anything special about either of you, Mr. Mullen and the same goes for Mr. MacGregor. I believe Dr. Jones is correct and it's simply a case of a dormant gene being activated and I think I've worn out my welcome considerably. I'll be leaving now."

Max looked up from the chemical set he was moving. He set it down hard, the glass clinking. He sniffed once or twice unconsciously and gave Rakinos a nasty glare.

"I'll walk you out. "

"As you wish."

Without a word, Rakinos moved out of the lab and walked quickly out of the lab. Max had to sprint to catch up to the bigger werewolf's longer stride but there was no way in hell that Max was going to let Rakinos out of his sight. The lab door slowly swung shut as the two of them left, leaving Raven thoroughly annoyed and confused. She knew they shouldn't have asked Rakinos to help. He couldn't be counted on.

As she sighed in frustration, she realized he was right, no matter what her personal opinion was. The solution to Brian being alive was simply a case of genetics, and though it was a rare case, more cases like his probably did exist. So many films and movies portrayed the bite of a shifter to turn people as a reality that she supposed it shouldn't strike her as that odd when one case actually did crop up. Still, it had implications for shifter genetics studies and could increase the medical knowledge so, setting down her chemical set as well and turning back to her screens, all in all, it served some purpose.

As she crossed the room back to her workstation, her right hand slid into her lab coat and felt the hard coldness of the glass vial there. The drug from the hospital; she needed to get Max alone for a few minutes to ask him a favor. She had one work station locked off from the other two because she had ran a sample of the drug through the analyzer and what she had found was terrifying. It was because of her findings, that she wanted to find the source of the drug and end its production once and for all and find out who was making it. In short, she needed Max to track it down by scent. His knowledge of the city's underworld was remarkable, far superior to her own and he was, if she was honestly, perfectly capable of handling himself and given the nature of the relationship between the police and the local drug lords, she didn't trust the law to do the right thing. That had gotten Brian's friend killed and ended up with Brian in his situation that he now found himself a part of.

So, an unorthodox approach was called for, needless to say.

The drug itself, she thought as she closed down her lab station and began cleaning up the mess she and Rakinos had made, was a unique chemical. Nothing else like it was found during the cross referencing check. What it was however, was a hyper-amphetamine with powerful hypnotic qualities. The radiation it gave off was a result of isotopes used in its manufacture to make it last in the immune system of a person who's body was hyperactively healing itself. It was tailor made for shifters. In a normal human, it would absolutely kill them and would produce the accelerated effects of an overdose, which she now had three bodies in her morgue at work to attest to.

In function, she could now tell that it served one purpose only. To turn any shifter that took it into an addicted hyper-strong and very compliant weapon. Someone in the city was making a chemical that would literally turn shifters into a walking army of juggernauts.

The only other problem they to work on, having basically confirmed her original theory on how Brian was a shifter when he previously was a baseline human was the images that Max had told her about. He had told her that Brian had been experiencing flashes, flashes of Max's personal life, as if he had lived them. While they hadn't made any headway on that topic, she surmised that it was most likely some type of horizontal engramatic pneumonic transfer, from Max's DNA that mixed from his saliva into the wound on Brian's shoulder. She told Max that she didn't know for sure and that was as best as she could do.

In short, Raven felt short changed.

She had only been able to confirm half of the truth she sought and now, the revelation of the nature of that drug that was flooding the streets, she felt a responsibility to at least get closure on one of the subjects and one of them, she , or rather with Max's help could in fact do something more effective about. She had lost enough people to it and it had caused enough trouble.

The lab door opened with a hiss and Raven looked up.

It was Max.

His face was still sour and his body language tense but it had lessened to a degree and that was what told her that Rakinos was gone.

"Relieved?" she asked, fingering the vial in her pocket as she did, her gut a mess of tangled apprehension and determination.

Max grunted a reply and asked her if she needed help cleaning up.

"Actually," she said, pulling out the vial from her pocket and holding it up in her hands, the remaining liquid sloshing blue inside, throwing off a small azure glow that reflected in the darkness of Max's pupils. " I do need your help."

*****

The darkest part of any city isn't the place where the lights are dimmest. It's not the place where shadows swing in a murderous dance of umbra glazed hazes. The darkest place of any city is rather deep inside the broken pieces of humanity, existing between the spaces between the shards existing eternally as the glue that sticks everything together.

Nestled in the heart of the oldest section of Dawson City, among the derelict buildings and forgotten apartments, behind the old fish factory and the old coal power plant that hadn't seen activity since it was shut down in 1980 in favor of the more modern Triton Nuclear Facility, sat a building that even the city zoners had forgotten about. It wasn't a forgetting born out of time's incessant march but rather by a steady flow of cash into the right hands, at the right times, with the right words whispered, the right pressure points applied surgical like a scalpel to people's appetites.

The building's original purpose was long lost but it sat, draped in the shadow of its peers, though, curiously, it was the only one to have power it seemed. Modern quartz lights were spaced at even intervals, making the pools of shadow where one may high between the piercing beams thin or nonexistent. A fifteen foot high fence surrounded it and it was only by passing through a secured checkpoint made of a daunting gate and a set of armed guards could one gain entrance. The other entrance was in the rear of the building, near the docks. The Dawson River flowed there, wide and cold, its depths going down to over a hundred feet, winding its way through The Narrows neighborhood, passing by Skid Row and finally emptying into the Atlantic Ocean. Four guards patrolled the outside perimeter, each in black uniforms, each carrying a heavy assault rifle, none of them walked with dogs. This was because each one of them were werewolves, shape shifters, shifted into their wolf forms, their eyes gleaming yellow in the dark like floating cigarette embers. Headsets beeped at every check in on the hour even though the windows of the building were dark.

The building's upper floors were every bit the abandoned ruin that the owners of the building wanted it to look like but below ground, now, that was a different story. Below ground was where the real activity took place. The building's owners had blessed it with a gigantic maze of corridors, rooms and sections, all four stories below ground, very nearly touching the water table itself. No one remembered who they were today but the owner had actually been a paranoid warmonger, profiting nicely from the bombs there were dropped in Japan, having invested heavily in atomic energy research before he himself was dropped by his heart that went off in his chest, as deadly a bomb as any. His name had been David Greer, but no one remembered that and no one ever knew how paranoid he had been of being incinerated by the very bombs he had helped build to wipe out others. The entire sub complex was his bomb shelter, just in case.

Nowadays, he had a different shelter, albeit much smaller, made of concrete up in Pleasant Rest Cemetery under an ornate tomb, inscribed with words that remind those who would stop to read that he was dedicated to peace. His legacy, though, remained intact and it had been repurposed by similar minds with purposes not all together dissimilar.

The bomb shelter had been converted into a research lab, the crumbling concrete walls reinforced with thick heavy steel, wires replaced and upgraded with fiber optic cables, computers and electronic systems installed, the most modern equipment one could by, making Raven's tiny labs look paltry by comparison. It was here, that discoveries and progress were being made and it was here, nestled in the darkest heart of the city that plans were made and now, the key to their execution was within reach.

A tall man in a white lab coat stood before a bank of computers, watching their read outs, his lined face and hard clean shaven jaw line set in stone. His slate gray eyes and salt and pepper hair matched his glasses, small square lenses that spoke volumes about the importance of efficiency to him. Around him, the lab he was currently in was bustling with activity, humans and shifters alike, side by side, each absorbed in their own tasks. Machines beeped steadily and movements at the door to the lab made him look up from his study and he glared angrily.

A hulking form entered the room, dressed in a dark sweater, dark pants and even dark shoes. With his fur gleaming like fresh blood and his scarlet gaze vivid and alive, Rakinos entered the room and everyone, just for a fraction of a moment, stopped, his looming presence knocking them off guard, though they knew him well. They also knew enough about his temper and that of the man who studied the screens to not stop work for long and so returned to their tasks without so much as a word..

"Where have you been?" Dr. Harvey Madison snarled with venom at Rakinos.

Rakinos pinned him with a glare and Madison wisely shut up.

"I've been at Riley's. He contacted me for help, of all things."

Madison waved him off. "We've got bigger problems, such as who is leaking our drug before its ready? We still haven't made any headway in that respect and we need to get this drug out there and start working on FDA trials otherwise--"

"The drug is ready but I've discovered something far more curious and if I'm right, it will change everything we've been planning." Rakinos told him bluntly, crossing the room and standing directly opposite of Madison.

"What the hell are you talking about, Rakinos? We've been working on this the past five years. I've invested so much capital into this that my company's share holders are getting suspicious and I can't fend them off forever. When I came to you, it was because I needed something new, something beyond shock staves and collar incapacitors. What could be more important than the project?" Madison demanded, throwing his hands up and sighing in frustration, putting his hands on his waist. Since his back was turned to Rakinos momentarily, he didn't see the tiny but deadly change in Rakinos' expression, the downward turn of his eyebrows, the minute curling of his lip and the slightest slip of a white fang. Before Madison turned back around, the expression was gone.

"Wolf's Bane will be work. We know it will. We've tested it but this," Rakinos said, pulling out the DNA samples he had stolen from Raven's lab, holding them up before Madison, the tubes winking in the light. "This may change our avenue of approach"

"For God's sake stop calling it "wolfs bane". I hate that term. Its what street thugs call it for lack of a better understanding. What is that you're so fond suddenly of waving about?"

Rakinos moved over to a DNA sequence analyzer and opened its hood. Carefully he put in the sample from Brian and shut the hood. Keying in a sequence of commands, he waited for the machine to do its work. It whirred, electric motors moving the sample in a circle as laser scanners pierced it, electric eyes seeing far beyond and deeper than even his own vision could. A moment later, the machine dinged and a result was displayed on the screen behind them. Turning around to the monitor, Rakinos directed Madison's attention to the screen.

"What is that, some kind of RNA scripting mutation?" Madison asked, pushing his glasses up on his face, the screen reflecting in the polarized lenses.

"Indeed. Watch. The one on the left is a normal human DNA strand when it gets exposed to the proteins in normal shifter saliva."

Rakinos keyed the simulation to start. The CGI DNA strand moved across the screen and merged with the protein from the normal shifter's sample that was already on file. In mere moments, the DNA began to unravel and in seconds, it was destroyed entirely.

He then keyed up Brian's sample and replayed the simulation, watching Madison eagerly.

On screen, the DNA molecule moved and merged with Brian's protein and for a moment, the DNA shook and the base pairs seemed about ready to dissolve when they suddenly stopped, came together and realigned, turning instead into something totally new. Gone was the double helix DNA structure that every single living thing on the planet shared, shifters included and there in its place was a triple helix strand, like a set of triangular stairs twisting up and up.

Madison's eyes widened, his pupils registering the shock of what he was seeing.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Rakinos nodded, and with his voice low and powerful, deadly in its certainty, he replied.

"What you are looking at, is a protein that can not only merge shifter and base human DNA without the death or rejection of the receiving host, but rather, make something altogether new and unknown. Something stronger. More powerful. Something that we've been looking for, something that can withstand the toxic nature of Wolf's Bane and better, if the hypnotic affects of the drug remain in place, where once you had dreams of profit from a new method to keep your city safe from criminal shifters, now we have something better. Now, we have a way to make our own soldiers. Our own law enforcement teams. Can you imagine the profits from that? The police come to you looking for non-lethal and safe containment measures and now, we hold the means to make ourselves God. We create them. We control them. We own them. It would revolutionize security and the military. It would be the future."

Madison stood back, his arms crossed, his face distended in surprise and shock as the impact of what he just saw would have on the future of not just his company but the future of genetics altogether. Everything was going to change, the entire paradigm. Triple helix DNA had been proposed of course since 1953. The problem at the time, Madison remembered was that the van deer Walls distances were too small, basically individual molecules were too close atomically speaking to be able to have stable linkage. Furthermore, Watson and Crick hypothesized that the polarization near the axis of the strands as they wove together would simply repel a third strand.

The only known example of triple helix DNA, Madison thought as he watched the animation loop on the screen was in 1957 when E.coli was observed briefly to use triple helix DNA during RNA transmission between the DNA and the cells and genetic alleles, telling the cells how to form and the genes what to do but beyond that it hadn't been observed since and couldn't be recreated. If triple helix DNA could be created in the lab, on a large scale, it would advanced gene therapy, cancer treatments, eliminate genetic disorders, the uses, he thought, almost giddily, were literally reaching to the stars.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, looking at Rakinos who pulled the sample from the analyzer, placed it back into its container and shut the machine down.

"I need to verify it, test it, make sure the simulations are correct."

"Indeed I--"

A phone vibrated and the sharp shrill sound blasted out of Madison's lab coat pocket. Cursing he answered it and his tone changed immediately. He went into spin mode, Rakinos noted with disgust. It must have been the board he was talking to at Madison Genetics, otherwise the hawkish asshole would have came out, more like how Madison really was. Rakinos hated a hypocrite.

Hanging up the phone, Madison glared at his partner.

"Damn it all. I hate board meetings. They want me to come in and explain the funding that I've been funneling into here. Apparently, one our accountants was too good at her job and raised questions. I can cover for us but its going to come at a cost for me. Right now, we need to focus on finding the source of the leak of the bane, and then we need to verify what you've found. If I bring something to them, sooner rather than later, I might be able to salvage this with my head still intact."

Rakinos nodded. "I already have an idea who our leaker is. As to the latter, I'll set to work on it immediately after I deal with our leak." Rakinos paused. A thoughtful expression crossed his scarlet eyes. "In fact, I may have a way of dealing with both at the same time."

Madison quickly made for the lab door, shrugging off his lab coat and revealing a four piece suit beneath it that probably cost more than most people's mortgages. A Rolex flashed on his wrist. "Make it happen. I'm off to see if I can divert them."

Rakinos watched him run off towards the elevators through the glass walls that made up the labs hall way bulkhead. His scarlet eyes tracked the motion of Madison's arms and legs and for a fraction of a moment, a part of him begged to hear the sound of them snapping, wetly, one by one, until Madison pleaded to be killed. Maybe Rakinos thought, he would grant the man his request. Maybe not.

Rakinos did not care for Madison in the slightest. He hated him and tolerated him as a necessary annoyance but if what he had discovered was true, then the man himself was about to be irrelevant.

Five years ago, finding the tide of culture and society turning more towards a peaceful merger of human and shifter society, Rakinos had withdrawn from his public crusade and went underground. For years, he had been a controversial figure and proponent of shifter superiority, openly calling for militant action against groups and those who would deny him and his kin their rights, their freedoms. People called him the werewolf Nazi. People called him a trouble maker, a violent minded activist with no thought or care about the methods he used and he thought, if the shoe fit, it was best to wear it. It helped you not step in so much shit that way. He had no time for labels. People thought what they did and it slowed him down as much as an ant would pushing against a boulder uphill.

The world was a vile place, full of viral waste sacks that called themselves human beings. They were wasteful. Shameful. Uncaring unfeeling creatures that destroyed their world, their cultures and societies and denied that they were doing it while in the very process of doing the same. It was a unique failing of the human condition and it would be their extinction. Even a child, he had known this and acted upon it. He supposed his parents had known what he had done and took action, not that it mattered really in the end. It had been worth it to get out from under them, and watching their downfall had been even better. It had feel good, a hot rush through his system as he meted out his brand of justice, the only brand that he ever cared to buy.

In his memory, the scent of burning wood, propane and blood wafted through the halls of his mind and he savored it. The sound of a scream echoed and then was gone, fading into the ghost that it was.

He stalked out of the room and headed to the right, moving towards the basement manufacturing labs, where the Wolf's Bane was made. Normally, he hated going into the area because the fumes were overpowering but he had a reasonable suspicion that he would find his leaker there. After taking a bite out of the drug dealer he had kidnapped after a week of surveillance, he had followed up on two more leads. They had both been excellent sources.

The police had pulled their bodies from the river not long after.

Rakinos could have sent someone of course. He could have kept his hands off but he was a hands on type and he prided himself on it. Descending down the metal grated stairs that jarred under his weight, he went down three flights and came at last to the manufacturing plant. Two guards, both shifters, stood at attention at the door, heavy rifles barring their chests. He looked at them and mentally sneered. The one on the left had the coloring of a Doberman and the one on the right was a brindle colored man with the face of a weasel. Both of them were heavily built and their expressions were cold and cruel. Rakinos noted the wrist bands they wore; tiny injector mechanisms and there, in the reservoir was glowing blue fluid. Tiny amounts of Wolf's Bane. For them, he supposed, it provided a euphoric high, a rush of hot strength and rage. By now, they were probably too addicted to ever come off of the stuff even as the radiation slowly burned out their immune systems.

Whether it was their own weakness to addiction, their desire of fortune or their love of carnage, the operation itself had attracted the attention of several shifter mercenary groups. Every community had scum, even shifters, Rakinos thought as he stopped in front of them. Some of them, just wanted to watch the world burn.

He'd just help them light the match.

Recognizing him immediately, the guards stepped aside and allowed him to key in his entry. The double doors slid aside with a hiss and Rakinos stepped onto the factory floor.

The factory floor itself was not as big as the word made it seem. Rather, it was the size of two large conference rooms placed end to end and perhaps a few feet wider. The walls and floors here were beige concrete, pitted with time. The walls were rock, carved from the granite foundation that was the under city. The ceiling itself was twenty feet from the floor and was reinforced with heavy steel girders from which hung modern LED lights, casting the whole room in a bright anti-septic light. Four rows of tables filled the room, each staffed by a team of haz-mat gear wearing workers, mostly shifters. Plastic eye shields, heavy insulated gloves and the whispery crackling of their plastic suits filled the air. Each table had a separate stage of the process. On one were the basic chemicals, held separately, each carefully measured and counted before being dispended further down the line to the next station where they mixed gently into rotating centrifuges.

At least thirty workers toiled ceaselessly, and Rakinos nodded with approval that so far, no further deaths had occurred. Dead workers make no product. Above the manufacturing floor, an observation window of sorts had been installed into a room suspended above the entire operation. It was here that Rakinos headed, bounding gracefully up the stairs and when he entered it, he motioned for the security there to give him the room alone, sending them away.

The observation pod was slate grey concrete and steel, with a bank of security monitors and keyboards lining the front wall over which was a floor to ceiling size bank of windows that gave anyone in the tank a fantastic view of the entire process below. Nothing could pass without being seen. Standing over what he considered his world, Rakinos felt more alive than he had in years.

For a while, he stood, arms crossed, his red eyes taking in everything below, silently watching, his tail still, his muscles motionless. Everything was happening behind his eyes now, in the shadows of his brain as his plan evolved and he was sure of the key he had found.

Rakinos had met with Madison five years ago when the company was starting to lose revenue and desperate for something to jump start his company before it was taken from him, Harvey Madison had been a ripe target. Madison had been drowning himself and his worries into the bottom of a bottle when Rakinos, who had been following him to kill him for his creation of the many instruments of torture for the police to use on shifters was suddenly struck with a new idea. Madison had been using the data he had gotten from the Lycanthropic Genome Project to create new means of restraint for law enforcement. The first item were the shock collars. Then came the electro-staves. The things were like six foot long titanium cattle prods. What had marked him for death for Rakinos was when he had announced in a Fox News interview that Madison Genetics had potentially found a way to suppress the shifter gene in human parents who had a child born with an active shifter gene.

Rakinos had went to kill Madison but instead found a broken drunken mess. Madison had been raving like a lunatic to anyone who would listen about genetic engineering and black ops projects and it was there, that he had caught Rakinos's attention.

Rakinos was in the shadows of the club, sitting, waiting for Madison to step out into the night and had overheard his conversation or rather attempts at it with a man next to him in the next booth.

"I'm telling you...there are secret projects...hidden things..." Madison had hiccupped to the man. The man had the scraggly wild look of someone who never left his basement and in fact he was covered in American flags and responded with his own theories about the Illuminati and secret societies and plots by "Big Pharma" for years to control people through the fluoridation of water. Rakinos had rolled his eyes until Madison's response caught him entirely off guard.

"No you ignorant buffoon. The Illuminati aren't real. World War 2. The Dog Soldiers. You ever heard of them, my drunken sod?"

That name made Rakinos's ears perk up instantly because he too had heard rumors of the Dog Soldiers in his work as an activist and history was one thing he knew quite a bit about.

The Dog Soldiers were a black ops group of the US military and fought on the side of the Allies against the Axis Powers. They were named after the historical warriors of the Cheyenne people who would dress in skins and furs of wolves and were known to historians to be absolutely lethal warriors who would often tether themselves to the ground and hold that section of land in a conflict, becoming unmoving juggernauts. The Dog Soldiers of the Cheyenne were legendary fighters and given that the group in World War 2 had been very effective in routing out Nazis and was made entirely out of shifters, they earned the name Dog Soldiers. Rakinos remembered the entire reason why shifters had slowly begun to be integrated into modern society was because of the actions of the Dog Soldiers in Battle of Stalingrad that alerted the world of their existence. Their mission, it turned out, was to infilitrate and wipe out the enemy units from key locations from the inside. All of that changed when the fighting became particularly chaotic and the Axis powers began to target civilians. Disobeying orders, the Dog Soldiers exposed themselves and dismantled several key enemy emplacements before breaking out into open close quarters combat with the German forces which inspire the surviving Allied troops to martial and the battle ended in the worst defeat Germany would ever see until the death of Hitler himself in 1945, just two years later.

The shifter unit was supposed to be secret but once they took action, they were exposed and there was no way to take it back. When they came home, it emboldened other shifters to step out and begin to integrate into society and shifters the world over responded. Shifters became heroes, nightmares, curiosities and friend and family at the same time in a matter of twenty years.

It was what Madison said next about the Dog Soldiers that made Rakinos decide not to kill him. Madison had continued to rant, his voice heavily slurred.

_ "Did you know that the Dog Soldiers had a secret plan to win the war...they were experimenting with drugs to enhance the already superior forces of the werewolves involved...tried to turn them into super soldiers...they almost managed it but couldn't quite crack the code...I have their research...stupid fools didn't know what they had...what they could have done...I'm one of the richest smartest men in our country and look at me....drowning in a goddamned bar because some pencil pushers don't get the numbers they like or because some product fails and injures someone. Its bound to happen...its just math..."_

A few hours passed before Madison had wallowed in his despair enough and had left. Stupidly he had taken a side street to get to his car which was actually parked off the street over from the bar dive he had somehow found himself in. He was barely conscious when Rakinos stepped out of the shadows and took him roughly, his eyes blazing in the dark.

Rakinos smiled.

He had savored the look of fear on the man's face, the music of his hammering heart, the blood rushing through his body and the scent of acrid terror as it wafted from his pores.

"What ...what are you...what-wh-what do you want..." Madison had stammered, trying to scream, his throat had refused to work. Rakinos yanked him in close and got nose to nose with him, holding him off the ground.

"You know about the Dog Soldier program. I want that information and maybe, if we work together, you and I, we can make something of it. Together. Maybe then, your company won't chew you up and shit you out like the maggot ridden piece of filth you are. Do you understand me?"

Five years later, Rakinos and a much more sober Madison had managed to save the man's career by coming out with various non-lethal restraints that the police were clamoring for with the rise in violent crime involving shifters that they couldn't handle by normal means. Rakinos made sure the devices worked. He had plenty of test subjects, after all, he thought absently, eyeing the workers. His eyes fell upon a young male shifter, the one he had been watching now for days. Yes, it did bother him to see the devices used on shifters but it was a price he was willing to pay because in the long run his goal wasn't to save Madison or his fucking company. No, in the long run, his plans, he thought, considering the glowing blue fluid that flowed beneath him in tubes and hoses, his plans involved a much more grandiose vision.

Wolf's Bane was an amazing creation. Using the research from the Dog Soldier project that Madison had gotten his hands on from the Department of Defense he and Rakinos had engineered a potent chemical capable of turning any shifter into a living weapon, incapable of feeling pain, changing them into a raging locomotive that was faster, stronger and more resilient than even shifters normally were. They were also loyal, forced into submission, keyed to responses that Rakinos and Madison had programmed into their minds via weeks of subjective therapy and the gravity bending mind crushingly addictive nature of Wolf's Bane. The fact that it was a mild hypnotic also helped maintain control.

Control, Rakinos thought, as he turned his gaze to the far wall of the room, moving down to the waste water pipe system that fed into the Dawson River through a series of interconnected waterways that the river had carved out of natural rock, wasn't the issue. Control was easy. It was the toxic nature of Wolf's Bane that was the issue.

The drug burned out the immune system of the shifters in the large doses required to create the reaction that turned them into compliant weapons. After a serious of tests that ended the life of at least ten shifters, Rakinos and Madison found that by making the mixture slightly radioactive with an oxygen isotope, the drug didn't burn out the system of the shifter's it was administered to so quickly but ultimately, it consumed them none the less in a period of days. They died screaming, drooling on themselves, useless as a weapon or for any purpose, their DNA obliterated.

But now...

Rakinos pulled the samples from his pocket and studied them again. The one marked with Brian's name held his fascination the most, his red eyes thoughtful and calculating.

If their DNA could be re-written into a triple helix then it would be stable enough to withstand the drug indefinitely, and furthermore, if Rakinos could create shifters from baseline humans, he could easily create his own army in a matter of weeks. Days, even. An army of supercharged shifters, obedient to him, unkillable, unfeeling, living walking breathing weapons with the cunning of their predatory ancestors and the cruelty of the human condition wrapped up in a neat package, all under his thumb. Madison and his bullshit would be irrelevant.

Naturally, the first thing he needed to do was set a list of goals. It was what the best minds always did, he thought. Prioritize.

First, he needed to test the DNA in a shifter. There was enough here for that, maybe two shifters. Make sure the DNA would affect them. If it did, then he could test a full dose of Wolf's Bane. Assuming both worked, he could move on to testing on a human being, one he knew had no shifter ancestry at all. To do that, he'd need a subject.

Thankfully, a human subject had just sprang to mind. He could deal with that later. As for the shifter...

He looked back to the shifter he had been silently watching this entire time.

He did have a leak to deal with, after all.

Stepping forward, he extended one of his index fingers and his black claw clicked on the intercom system.

His voice was broadcast over the work floor.

"Alex Hollens. I need to see you in the observation pod. Now."

Rakinos cut the feed. His voice was instantly recognized and obeyed.

********

Alex Hollens was eighteen. His mom was a meth head and his father was an abusive drunk. After spending the last years of his time in high school under the old man's lash, Alex had finally had enough and struck out on his own, quitting school, leaving his wreck of a life behind. He didn't plan on ever going to college. Too expensive and not worth the torture of having to put up with Ronnie, his father's , slurred speeches and screaming every night. At least the nights he wasn't passed out on.

Neither of his parents was a shifter, but Alex himself was. He had learned that he was not long after he turned twelve and started hearing things he shouldn't. Of course, over the period of a year, other things began to happen. His vision changed. He started to have dreams and then finally, one day in the bathroom, he found that he could change the shape of his ears at will. It took effort, and concentration but in time mastered it. By the time Christmas had came that year, he had gotten good enough at it that he was able to fully transform into his wolf form at will. His mother, of course, when she found out, waved him off and told him his grandfather had been one of those wolf freaks while his old man tried to get him to use his new skills as a source of income, primarily to be a look out during Ronnie's pill trades.

Forced to use his superior hearing and scent tracking ability to keep an eye out for police, Alex had spent his freshman year eyeball deep in his father's pill hocking schemes. He was arrested later for breaking and entering at a pharmacy and spent a good chunk of his summer in jail. The relationship between him and his parents eventually grew to strained that one night after scarfing down cardboard reheated pizza, he told them both to go to hell and get fucked and had left. Gradually he had drifted deeper and deeper into the underworld of shifter prostitution, drugs and crime. One day, he had been approached by a tall shifter with blue black fur that called himself Brutus. Brutus had made him an offer to come and work for a project that would make him rich beyond his wildest dreams and enable him to get some payback on the assholes that made his life a living hell.

Alex had taken him up on the offer and now, a year later, he found himself making one of the most deadly drugs in history, though he didn't know that. He only know that he was paid very well. Not that he had spent that money wisely. Crack was expensive. So was pot and women were as well. He especially liked going after the human women who were into male shifters. He earned a good bit of side cash from that.

Gradually, he had learned from the guards that the drug they were making provided a short and powerful high as long as it was given in small doses, more powerful than anything on the streets today, something so strong that even shifters could get off on it.

Alex had asked a guard for a quick hit and it had been as if paradise had exploded in his veins carrying the sun behind it and for the next few hours he had been tripping balls essentially, high as a kite; he had felt like he could do anything, could beat anyone. He had felt strong for the first time in his life. Powerful. Unstoppable.

He had also found an opportunity.

Over the course of several weeks, unnoticed he thought, he had spread the word among the drug dealers on the streets, the 86ers especially. They controlled most of the drug trade in Dawson City. Finally, he had given a tiny sample to one of the dealers who had nearly died from the explosive high it had given him. Alex told him to keep the doses miniscule, barely more than a drop or it could end badly. He made sure to tell the dealers to fight the urge to increase the dose. Needless to say, it had become an instant hit, spreading into the underground club scene, passed off on laced ecstasy pills and for a while, it had gone well. Alex hadn't been caught and by taking small amounts of the drug out in the small vials, he had built himself a healthy network. He could approach his deals human or shifter form and keep his identity a secret.

Then the people had started dying. He knew that four had died from overdoses in the last week. The news had been all over it, with the police conducting intensive investigations but the hospitals were stumped and couldn't figure out what the drug was or where it was coming from. No one ever suspected it came from shifters since all the product itself was being fenced by the 86ers and the other gangs sold to them by a single low key 18 year old kid with a knack for bad ideas.

The first three to die had died in the hospitals while the fourth had died in a police drunk tank, having gone insane and bashed his own brains out on the doors. Some of the cops were on the take, he knew and even though that would slow down the investigation, it probably wouldn't halt it.

Since then, Alex had tried to keep a low profile, even lower than normal. It was best to stop while one was ahead.

He had been processing the Bane when his name was called over the intercom from the observation tank and the voice that had called it was nothing short of being called by the Devil himself. That deep resonant sound that vibrated your bones had frozen him in place before he had forced himself to move, knowing that disobedience was lethal. He had looked up at the tank and the bright lights over head cast the tank itself in dark shadows.

There seeming to float behind the glass was a dark living shadow, hulking and looming in the tank, red eyes burning out through the glass.

Swallowing his panic, Alex had moved quickly, mounting the stairs and stepping into the observation tank where the door behind him closed with a hiss and a click of the latch and in that sharp clicking sound, Alex had the fleeting screaming fear that his own fate was hanging by the thinnest of threads.

Rakinos, one of their bosses, stood, towering in the room, his back to Alex, arms crossed behind his back, legs spread wide, his tail lashing, his ears alert and his fur seeming to run with that strange blood color. With his dark clothes, he seemed to be living burning blood and that image sent a chill down Alex's spine.

Rakinos didn't turn to face him as he addressed Alex.

"Take that off. We need to talk, Mr. Hollens."

Alex was confused for a moment and then realized Rakinos was talking about the haz-mat gear. His hands shaking, Alex did just that, unzipping it and pulling it off, a piece at time. Gloves, mask, shield, respirator, they came away with a crackle of tarp like plastic and Alex didn't know where to put them so he just put them at his feet. He stood there, exposed now. He was dressed in a pair of dirty blue work coveralls, old work boots with a white t-shirt peeking out from the collar of his coveralls. He was covered in tawny fur, and it was thin and patchy, and he realized he could smell himself and that he needed a shower. His tail hung limply behind him and his ears had fallen to his head in deference to the walking mountain before him. His eyes were the color of honey and were bloodshot. At least one of his incisors was growing back in. It had been knocked out in a fight a few weeks ago.

Alex felt very small and his thin frame only reinforced the feeling.

"Sir?" he asked, his voice surprising him with how much of the shake he felt in his body leaked out.

Rakinos still didn't turn to face him.

"Mr. Hollens, in the last few weeks I've noticed several dips in our production numbers. Small, barely noticeable. You wouldn't know that something was off unless you knew what to look for. That piqued my curiosity so I dug a bit deeper. I found that someone, here, in this facility, was stealing entire vials of the Bane and sneaking it out."

Alex felt his blood run cold. His mind began to race and his heart hammered loudly. He wished knew Rakinos could hear it and he mentally fought with himself, begging his betraying heart to calm down, to relax.

It didn't work.

Turning, Rakinos finally met Alex's gaze, his red eyes boring into the young man's. Alex felt his bladder nearly release.

"S-s-sir?"

"You wouldn't know anything about that situation, now would you...Alex?" Rakinos growled softly, stepping forward, his looming shadow falling over Alex's shaking frame like a corpse shroud. Rakinos was now inches away and Alex felt himself take a step back only to find that his back met cold unyielding concrete.

There was no where to go. No where left to run.

Alex felt the vials he had taken earlier touch in his pocket and his heart dropped as he heard the clink of the glass. He was nearly in tears from fear as Rakinos heard it too. Rakinos cocked his head and his eyes flicked down to the pocket on the right chest of Alex's overalls.

Deciding the game was up, Alex knew he could either stay and die or make a run for it.

He dashed to the right, bolting down the stairs and out the door, his feet flying, alarms blaring--

In his mind, that is.

That sweet dream of being able to run was knocked out of him the moment he made the move to run as Rakinos shot out his thick heavy left arm like a ram rod, his open palm, black claws flashing, crashing into the concrete wall, splintering it from the impact, sending up dust in the air, blocking his escape.

A screamed whimper of fear was ripped out of Alex as he fell back against the wall, knowing he was trapped like a goddamn rat in a trap. He buried his head in his face, his tail between his legs, shaking like a blade of grass in a thunder storm. The fear was making him sick. He was going to vomit, going to pass out

"Please...don't kill me..."

Rakinos lowered his massive head and brought his muzzle close to Alex's tear streaked face. Without taking his blazing red eyes off of the boy, he reached up with his free right hand and slipped his fingers into Alex's pocket, taking out the two vials of glowing blue fluid.

When he spoke next, his fangs were within centimeters of Alex's snout and Alex could smell the coopery rotten scent of blood on his hot breath.

"Don't worry, Alex. I'm not going to kill you. In fact, you could say you're getting a promotion."

When Rakinos didn't rip his head off a second later, Alex dared to lower his hands and crack open his eyes to look up.

Rakinos shot his left hand away from the wall, slamming into the back of Alex's head and the young werewolf dropped to the floor instantly unconscious with a sickening thud. He lay there, crumpled, a trickle of blood running out from his ear and nose but breathing slowly none the less.

Rakinos pocketed the vials and knelt, picking up Alex, throwing the young man's limp form over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him back down to the manufacturing floor. He felt the eyes of the other workers briefly look up, see who it was and quickly resumed their work.

Fear was a powerful motivator and a valuable tool that Rakinos had mastered long ago.

He enjoyed it.

Moving quickly with purpose, he made his way down the corridors and into one of the subject testing labs that was unoccupied. The lab was spartan: a stainless steel table with restraints and a rack of surgical instruments in a sealed sterile case. A single bright light hung from the middle of the room and a few cabinets with the proper drugs all neatly labeled lined the far wall. The floor was made of slick tile with a metal drain in the center of the room.

He roughly threw Alex onto the table and stripped him of his clothing, tossing them into a corner. He worked expertly, shackling the restraints around the young man's thin limp wrists and ankles. Another set of canvas straps with solid steel buckles were tightened around the man's chest and stomach. The restraints were made for shifters of course. Rakinos had designed them himself and provided Madison with the schematics. It had been a hefty government contract and Madison funded a great deal of that funding into their project here.

Satisfied his charge wasn't going anywhere Rakinos stepped out of the room, sealing it with his private pin code. The door was solid titanium more than four inches thick. The room was also sound proofed. If Hollens did wake up and caused a commotion, no one could hear him and even if they did, they knew better than to open the door.

Rakinos was headed to his own private office of sorts, two floors up. In there, he would be mercifully free from fools and have a few moments of silence while he put his plans into motion. Now that he had shut down the drug leak and secured a test subject, he needed to test his theory on the DNA. The samples he had were small but they could be amplified and made to work but they wouldn't do in the long term. He would need a bigger source.

He needed Brian.

Of course, Brian was so far up Riley's ass that was going to be difficult now. He was surrounded by them. Jones, Mullen, there never seemed to be a moment when he wasn't alone. First, he needed to find out where Brian was staying. In fact, he needed to find out more about him in general and with that in mind, he knew his next move was to learn everything he could about Brian MacGregor.

The DNA tubes clacked together in his pocket.

Then there was Max Mullen himself. That was a thorn as well, mostly an annoyance. Several of his contacts had been beaten into pulps by Mullen's nightly forays into vigilantism but Rakinos doubted Mullen himself truly understood the importance of who they were. They were low level scouts who had gotten a bit too hands on when their urges got the better of them. Few attempted murders and drug deals for lesser items like opioids that the mercenaries and thugs Rakinos and Madison had hired had gotten involved in on their own. As long as it didn't impact their service to him, Rakinos hadn't cared and had let Max beat on them fairly regularly.

Rakinos wondered if Max had any part of the DNA puzzle and thought it was wise to run his sample as well to be sure though he thought that the irritating bastard probably didn't.

The only question that was looping through Rakinos's mind was a simple one and one that he would soon have a definite answer to.

Who was Brian MacGregor?

Chapter 7

"You gave it all, into the call

You took a chance and

You took a fall for us

You came thoughtfully, loved me faithfully

You taught me honor, you did it for me

Now I am strong

You gave me all

You gave all you had and now I am home."

• Sia, "My Love", 2012.

It had been a week since Brian had first met Draco Riley. After the first night at Max's place, Brian had spent three days straight at Draco's house, desperately trying to learn how to shift his form and had, thus far failed. Growing frustrated with it, even with Raven's guidance in her time away from the hospital, Brian had asked to take a break. He had taken some time to just explore the grounds and had thought about calling his mother to finally ask her the questions that had been burning through his mind but so far had not worked up the courage to do so. He had heard from Ellie however. She did finally return a call to him late last night and they had finally talked about what happened. While he didn't tell her everything, Brian did tell her that he too was attacked by the same gang and was recovering from the experience but that he was fine and they she didn't need to worry about him. She did apologize for losing her temper with him and for blaming him, and he said he understood, which he had. They were back on speaking terms for the time being, both of them healing in their own ways at their own rates.

Right now, Brian was outside on the manor grounds, laying on a stone bench beneath a copse of trees in the middle of one of the grassy fields behind the house itself, on his back, his head in his hands crossed behind him. He was dressed in a pair of loose jeans Draco had found for him, slightly smaller than the too big pair Max had loaned him but bigger than his old size, just perfect. He wore no shirt, enjoying the warm heat of the sun as it warmed his thick fur and heated his skin below. It surprised him that he wasn't hot. Here, there were no sounds of cars, no rushing traffic, no horns, no people shouting, none of the sounds of the bustling city. Here, there was just nature. Peaceful, green and the warm pulse of life was almost palpable. His tail waved once in a while on its own in a lazy arc. He paid it no mind.

The summer had finally came into its own and the storms had passed, the season finally sliding into the warm days of hot dogs, grilling out and later, fireworks. On the horizon, the dark forests looked shady and inviting with streamers of sunlight filtering down through the trees. Max had been busy at his shop as summer's arrival had brought on a few clients, mostly maintenance jobs but a few challenges. Brian had been staying between Max's apartment and the room that Draco had allowed him to use at the manor. He had also been back to his apartment at least once more to get his computer and charging cord.

Brian and Max had slowly begun to communicate over the last week. It wasn't much. A self depreciating joke, a few pieces of history between them about their respective experiences and slowly, Brian had begun to feel at home. Comfortable. Elijah was still there but he had become a memory that could be looked on with a smile now and remember the good times instead of sorrow. Brian was sure that if Elijah had lived to see what had become of Brian, that he would have wanted Brian to keep going, to live life. That was their motto between the two of them; you only live once. Enjoy it while it's here.

Brian also surprised himself by finding he didn't miss his job as much as he had thought. These two weeks away from it had been illuminating for him. He had gradually discovered that he hadn't been happy where he was and that he was in fact, merely existing, tolerating life. It also occurred to him that this existence was tied to never having gotten over the death of his father. The wound that had left had ran deep and dealing with all the changes he had been through recently had caused Brian to do some serious soul searching and what he found is that he wanted more than a grind. In a way, he supposed, what had happened to him, may have been a blessing. He was considering his own identity.

Who am I?

The question had come one afternoon during a workout at the gym in the manor to ease his stress at not being able to shift yet and had rattled around in his head every single day since it had been born. The easiest answer to that question, he thought, as he let his leg dangle off the side, the toe of his boot touching the grass, was he was who he was. Sniffing once, he blew a gnat away from the end of his snout. He had always looked up to his father and tried for so many years to be like him, even after he had died, becoming a guard after not being able to become a cop, that Brian now realized that he had never tried to be anything else.

He should have died there in that alley way.

He didn't.

Maybe there was a reason why all this had happened.

His mind drifted to Draco.

The man was a mystery. Not exactly in a bad way, Brian thought. He was just very private and reserved, just not in the manner Max was. Draco was old fashioned and kept his issues to himself. He had made himself available for Brian during any free time he had, which wasn't much, considering how often he was on the phone or answering emails, writing papers and generally seemed to genuinely care very much for the movement he had helped spear head. Brian had seen nor found anything to suggest that Draco was anything than he appeared to be: A good man trying to give people a good turn and in the process, maybe help heal some of his own pain and loss. He was very parental and Brian did feel good around him. He was not Brian's father and Brian knew that, but he was pretty close. It felt nice to have that balance back in his life.

He met Roy, Draco's house manager. Roy, as it turned out, was the executor of the estate and kept the house and grounds in remarkable condition. Nothing escaped his notice. The man himself was smaller gentleman with a thin build and like everyone else around the manor, he too was a shifter and his accent was a thick Scottish brogue. Brian nearly made a grievous error in society etiquette when he first met him and introduced him on the grounds a few days ago. The man looked exactly like a black furred Scottish terrier, even down the thick mustaches. He had twinkling warm brown eyes and a mouth so foul, it would have turned a sailor red.

Brian had also briefly glimpsed Molly O'Hara, Draco's assistant. She was a human woman with a fit and trimmed frame, who seemed to see a dark pantsuit as a uniform. She wore a small simple golden cross on a fine chain on her neck and kept her red hair trimmed neatly to her shoulders and her blue eyes were always on point. Her smart phone and her Bluetooth were never far from her and when she was around, Draco seemed to change. He seemed more relaxed, more open and Brian had even heard the old man laugh once, the sound rolling from his study. He suspected that Draco cared for Molly far more than he would have ever told anyone.

The last person that Brian had finally ran into on his final day at the manor before taking his break and subsequently returning was Draco's technology expert and resident living IT department, Everett Jackson. Jackson was a small fellow, a few inches shorter than Brian and was a shifter as well. He looked like a beagle in terms of color and the shape of his face with his ears being just about as big. He had a medium build and his tail and ears were both constantly moving. Jackson also wore glasses with large round frames that he had strapped to his head since he spent so much time losing the things. He was young too, Brian thought, maybe twenty-five or so and was friendly enough but Jesus, that kid could talk your ears off and not by intending to. He had the unfortunate habit of saying just whatever came into his brain and then realizing what he had said, backtracking and making it worse. Draco was right about that, Brian though, remembering the first time he had met Jackson in the hallway after that work-out session that had started this whole line of thought.

Jackson had rounded the corner and had bumped bodily into Brian, which of course, sent the smaller shifter sprawling into the floor with a heavy thump. Brian had been shirtless and in need of a shower with a white towel draped over his neck. Max had lent him a pair of loose cotton work out pants that he didn't use anymore and he was barefoot.

_ "Oh my god, I am so sorry I d---" Jackson had stammered, shoving his glasses back up on his snout, quickly grabbing his phone and then grabbed the hand that Brian had extended down to him, yanking him up to his feet. The ease with which he had been able to pick up the younger shifter surprised Brian._

_ "No, no, it's my fault, man. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going. Are you okay?" he had asked, checking Jackson over visually for any signs of harm. The floors in the house were solid oak floors and had no give to them._

_ Jackson had dusted himself off quickly, looking rather sheepish when he looked up at Brian properly and his eyes had gone wide as they traveled up and down the bigger shifter's frame._

_ "Oh. You're the new guy, the medical marvel that Raven brought in. She said you were one of kind and I said--"_

_ Brian had felt his face flush under his fur and Jackson quickly shut his face._

_ "Yeah...you could say that I'm new." He replied._

_ Jackson tried to reverse course. "Not that there's anything wrong with that or that its any of my business, absolutely none of my business. I, uh, I'm Jackson. Everett Jackson. I do the computers around here."_

_ Jackson cringed. "Do the computers? God I did not mean that to sound like that, I swear. I fix them, I meant. Jesus Christ.."_

_ Brian chuckled. "Its okay, man. I got what you meant. Good to meet you. I'm Brian. Brian MacGregor and yeah, you could say that I'm the newbie."_

_ "Awesome. You seem to be fitting in pretty good. If you need anything to do with a computer or electronics, I'm your guy or just have Max yell at me. He seems to be here a lot when you are. "_

_ Brian felt his eyebrows go up and his face felt hot again. "Do what?"_

_ "You know, you and - Oh. Oh. Oh God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume. Um, never mind. I'm going to get back to work before I sacrifice what dignity I have left. Someone was messing with my program the other night and I'm trying to reconstruct what they did. People need to stop messing around with stuff they don't understand, I mean, seriously. This stuff isn't free to develop..."_

_ With that, the young beagle looking shifter had hastily made his exit and vanishing down a hallway talking to himself._

They were all an eclectic bunch, Brian thought, kicking the grass a bit, smiling. More and more, he thought they were growing on him.

That made him think about what Jackson had said or rather implied.

Max.

Brian thought back to all the times he had been at the manor the past few days and Max was in fact there nearly every day, never far from him. Of course, Max was his ride most of the time so that was a given but what did Jackson see that Brian didn't?

There had been those they were moments in the car and then later in the lobby with Max and thinking about them gave Brian a fluttering feeling in his gut and it caught him by surprise by its strength. One night, after a failed shifting session, Brian had asked Draco about that situation, of course, eliminating the specifics of why he was asking, making it seem as if he was asking about how scents worked for shifters. They had been out on the back porch of the manor, the afternoon sun had been setting and through the glass of the porch, Brian could see into the house and specifically into the gym. Inside, Max had been practicing, boxing with the dummy in the corner, stripped to the waist, driving blow after blow into it, occasionally giving it a kick so hard the entire thing rattled.

Draco had offered Brian a glass of lemonade and had taken one for himself as he sat back in the white wicker chair. As the sun slowly went down on the horizon, Draco had answered his question.

"Well, my boy, that's an interesting topic. Humans, baseline humans, spend so much of their lives relying on sight that evolution eventually robbed them of their sense of smell. Do something for me. Take a deep breath, but inhale through your nose, not your mouth and tell me what you smell."

_ Brian had set aside his glass and exhaling, he closed his mouth and inhaled deeply, the warm evening air rushing into his nose. He felt it enter the end of his snout, course through the bridge of his noise and pass down his throat and instantly a barrage of information was there, images and thoughts and colors._

_ The smell of freshly mown grass._

_ The warm loamy aroma of turned earth, of hot rock cooling in the afternoon shade. The sharp bite of the lemon in the glass, the sparkling coolness of the water itself. He could smell the trees and their bark. Each one was different and after a moment, it was over whelming._

_ He breathed normally and opened his eyes._

_ "Wow...that was...intense. I hadn't tried that yet."_

_ Draco smiled and laughed gently. "You got bombarded by images, and each image told you something about the visual input. The state of the grass, the temperature of those rocks, the water in your glass, the scent of your own body. You'll notice that last one was especially unique, I'll bet."_

_ Brian had indeed noticed that. His own body smelled like hot sun and warm air, the same earthy scent that you get from being outside for several hours and then coming in doors. It was fresh and clean. That scent lived under the artificial smells of his deodorant and bath shampoo._

_ "I did." He said, intrigued. Draco continued._

_ "You'll find that scent brings with it a treasure trove of information and that until you learn to filter it to find what you need, it can be like being in a symphony orchestra trying to listen to a pin drop. It can be done but it takes practice. Until you get the hang of it, I suggest breathing mostly through your mouth. It will help."_

_ "As for the scent of your own body, you'll also find that every living being has their own unique chemical makeup that gives them a unique scent. That scent can alter from time to time to give you information about the person, information like mood, general well being, stress and more. Sometimes, you'll encounter pheromone based scents, which are more often encountered among those couples who are engaged in the risky business of romance and courting, which something I've not had the distinct pleasure, thankfully, of putting up with in a very long time." He finished with a grin._

_ Brian had looked back at Max through the gym windows as Max grabbed a towel from the rack and dried the sweat from his face, his loose blue basketball shorts flashing in the glare of the sun, the shock absorbing bindings around his wrists hanging loosely._

_ _ Ever since, Brian had been experimenting slowly with scent when no one was looking since he felt silly just walking up to random things and sniffing them. Thankfully, no one had caught him at it and he had found that Draco was right. Everything had its own unique scent and with it came a ton of information. Brian found that sometimes, flashes of an objects recent history came with it, little glimpses into the moments that had happened. That was one thing, he thought, that he was getting fairly good at. Over the days since, he had gotten quite good at filtering out scents that he wanted and those he didn't. Still what Jackson had just assumed about Max and himself and what Draco told him had Brian thinking quite a bit about those moments in the car and the lobby.

So far, it hadn't happened again because Max was careful to put a bit more distance between them in close quarters than usual. Could Max actually feel something more for him than Brian could have thought? Was that why he was so stand offish and taciturn towards him or was that the reason why he seemed to be more open with Brian than he was anyone else. Either way, Brian had noticed over time the way Max had interacted with the others and compared it to how he acted around himself and truth be told, there was a marked difference.

Shuffling his weight on the bench because the stone was digging into the small of his back, he felt his ears perk up and swivel towards the sound of approaching footsteps crunching on the grass.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Brian thought amused and for some reason embarrassed.

It was Max.

He was back in his standard uniform of white tank top, jeans and boots again. The boxing tape around his wrists was gone and as the breeze blew, Brian could smell him. He radiated the scents of Old Spice but beyond that, Brian indulged himself a bit and hoped Max wouldn't notice where he was still a good distance from the bench and inhaled sharply through his snout.

Instantly the world came alive in a world of sensory data but Brian pushed through it, past the scents of grass and dirt and the forest, past the scent of the water of the lake, the smell of the fish under it, past the hot stone of the manor's walls and there, standing out like a search beam among all the noise was Max.

To Brian, Max's scent was utterly new. He had never experienced this side of the man before. He smelled the hot sun on Max's gray fur, smelled his aftershave fur conditioners, smelled the hot leather of his worn brown belt, the cotton of the shirt he wore. He could smell the slightest bit of masculine musk there as well, and below that, was the fresh clean scent of ice bergs and snow, of pine trees and long winter nights. Max smelled like winter and fresh snow, Brian thought.

Exhaling, he quickly sat up and made it appear that he had been yawning as Max arrived.

"Hey." Max said, nodding slightly, dipping his chin just a bit. He came around the bench as Brian moved his feet out of the way and took a seat next to him. Brian scooted to the right to give him more room.

"Hey." Brian replied, stretching and popping his spine back into order.

"Heard your practice sessions went to shit the last few days." Max said, looking down between his feet, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. A bird tweeted in the trees and Max's ears flicked towards the sound unconsciously before coming back to them.

"Yeah. I can't seem to get the hang of shifting. I may not be able to." Brian admitted quietly, looking at his nails, flexing his fingers a bit to get the blood flow back into them. Max sat up a bit straighter and glanced over at Brian as he spoke, his blue eyes searching without him realizing it.

"Would that be a bad thing?" he asked.

Brian head the concern in his voice and as much as Max tried to hide it, Brian could also feel the apprehension. Apprehension at what, Brian thought? Would he think that I would blame him for it? Turn on him if I was stuck like this?

He considered his answer and decided to tell Max the truth. He deserved it.

"Nah, man. I think I could live with it. It wouldn't be so bad. Hey, I've got friends now I didn't have before. When some of them aren't taking my blood."

Max almost chuckled again.

"Oh come on that was funny. You can laugh, you know." Brian gently ribbed him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. As he did, he saw Max's grin try to form as well. It got about half way and stuck but it was there none the less.

"Yeah. I reckon. Anyway...I just wanted to come and check on you a bit...you've been down here a few hours and well..you know.." Max said, his blue eyes catching the setting sun.

Brian found that he liked the idea that Max was checking on him and he had a powerful suspicion that not one had asked Max to come looking for him.

"Thanks. How work today? You said you had some customers lined up."

Max shrugged. "Wasn't too bad. Oil change. Spark plugs. Nothing major. Made a few hundred dollars. I just got back up here an hour ago. Been talking with Draco about things. Needed to get my head straight. Was coming to see if you wanted to head back to the apartment for a bit. I can't stay here for too long. I worry about my shop."

Brian blinked.

The question had came out of the blue and was out of character for Max. Max had always let Brian come to him about whether he wanted to stay at the manor or not. It wasn't like him to come around looking for an answer. Truth be told, Brian did need a break and that was the whole reason he had came out here. To get perspective. Sitting here, as the sun was inching to the horizon from its high position in the sky, throwing slowly growing shadows on the ground Brian looked at Max and decided that for the first time since they had met, he really saw him for him, not just as a savior or a grouchy ass hole.

Max sat there, looking off into the distance, at something only he could see on the sky's limit, his blue eyes the same color as the sky. His thick gray fur lifted gently in the summer breeze and his tail hung behind him on the bench. His face, even with the barely noticeable scars on his snout was truly noble, refusing to give into the pain he carried with him on his back. He was slumped as he sat there, elbows on his knees, as if that pain had physical weight, his broad strong back carrying it all and Brian knew that the pain was heaviest in his heart.

Seeing past Max's powerful shoulders and arms, Brian saw the talented and scuffed up hands of a master mechanic. The fact that he carried more healing wounds than any other person he had ever seen told Brian that Max cared deeply about people, even though he would be loathe to admit and that was despite his losses and his anger. Beneath that rage and anger, was something more.

Something richer, something that smelled like freshly fallen sun kissed snow on the first welcome day of silent whispered winter.

It was unspoken, Brian knew now but yes, it was there. He had no choice but to acknowledge it. He couldn't refuse to ignore it this time. He felt the pull behind his chest, in his gut and somewhere deeper and in those silent seconds, as Max stared into the azure orange sky, Brian understood and realized that Max was not the only one that was feeling something more.

Taking a deep breath, he blew it out casually and bumped Max with his shoulder. He decided for the time being to say nothing and see how things went. He didn't want to say anything and jeopardize the fragile understanding that had developed between them the last two weeks.

"Hey."

Max came back to the field and turned to look at Brian. "Yeah?" "Let's head to your place. I do need some space away from these nerds."

A small smile tried to be born on Max's face and this time, it was successful.

As they stood up and walked back towards the house, their shadows grew long. Brian spoke up as they neared the house.

"We can order pizza. My treat."

"No anchovies. Those things suck balls." Max replied.

"Agreed. You're bringing the beers."

Then it happened.

Max actually laughed as he replied. A genuine small laugh. Not just a chuckle. It was a soft rich sound and it rolled easily. It felt good on Brian's ears.

"Deal."

*****

For the first time since Brian had set foot into Max's apartment two weeks ago, the place felt like a home. It felt lived in and it didn't feel as if there were some black specter lurking in the shadows, hovering over everything. The night was hot outside with summer having arrived with a vengeance and he was grateful that Max's apartment had central air and heat. When they had first arrived, Brian had seen a single motorcycle in the garage work space. Its engine was exposed and several parts lay around it in neat orderly piles. One of the customer's Max had, he had thought. Instead of going out for food, Brian had as promised ordered in for delivery. His appetite had surprised him and he had gone all in for four large pizzas, two layered supremes and two bacon and ham and pepperoni pies.

Max brought the beer and to Brian's amusement, he found that Raven was right. The alcohol content in them was too light to get anymore than a light buzz. He thought his new metabolism must burn through it too quickly. He and Max sat on the sofa together, relaxed, feet up on the coffee table, and for the first time, there didn't seem to be any of the animosity or tension between the two of them that had been maintaining a constant presence. Max himself was different. He was still gruff but he was also more relaxed, not as dead serious and it was nice, Brian thought. It made the whole situation he was going through more tolerable and honestly, it brought back many good memories that seemed to push his failure to master shifting out of his mind for a while.

The television was on and on- screen, a boxing match was going down. The smell of hot melted cheese, tomato sauce and grilled vegetables filled the air. The two of them had made their way through nearly half of the food and the beer was settling nicely.

"What's on your mind?" Max asked, taking a quick glance at Brian out of the corner of his eye when things had entered a quiet stretch. Most of his attention was riveted to the boxing match on the television. Brian could see he was more than into it as well by the way Max's fingers twitched and tail would jerk, the muscle in his jaw line would work when someone missed a throw.

"Ah nothing, man. It's just after two weeks of insanity its nice to have a normal night with....well...you know. Friends. Reminded me of times with Elijah and Ellie and mom and dad before things went to shit. Its nice." Brian told him with a contented sigh, stretching his large frame, popping his back and shifting his feet around, placing them back onto the floor.

"Heh. I guess you're right. You've put up with my ass this long being a dick and with being poked and prodded at and even then, we didn't have much to tell you. Why are you still around, I guess is what I'm asking?" Max replied, brushing crumbs off the front of his white tank top. The bread pieces fell down onto his jeans legs and then bounced to the floor.

Brian considered that. "Honestly, I can usually tell about people. Its one reason I was good at my job. I can read them. You guys all seem like you genuinely care about people and were there for me when there was nowhere else I could have turned to. You've stuck by me I guess and that counts for something."

Brian tugged at his own shirt, one of his old favorite navy blue t-shirts, adjusting it; It was almost too small for him. He would really have to go clothes shopping until he figured out this shifting business. His jeans were also a bit snug on his new frame. Thankfully, they were older and had more give.

"I'm sorry for being such a cunt to you at first. I don't really know how to deal with people much and you're the first person who's really been up close to me in a long time. It honestly made me uncomfortable. But I guess you turned out to be okay. Not too shabby."

Brian laughed. "Thanks. I think."

He grabbed a slice of pizza and scarfed it down, relishing the explosion of flavors and scents as he did.

"Dude that is one perk about this whole situation that I will not complain about..." Brain said, his mouth full, knowing it was rude but unable to help himself. Max raised an eyebrow and that cocky almost grin came back.

"What's that?"

"Food is fucking awesome now. I can taste and smell everything about it. It changes everything about eating."

Max shrugged. "Huh. I guess I never noticed since, well, I've always been this way. I guess for you its like being born again only able to remember it."

Nodding, Brian swallowed.

"Yeah. Its been wild. Draco showed me how to scent and how to pick out individual scents from the background. I think I've got it pretty good. The one thing I think I may have down about all this."

"Well that's something. Scents give most of us a hard time until we get older and can sort through them. Its good you're getting that out of the way. Shifting though...that's something I can't really offer much advice on but you said you were having a hard time?" Max asked, setting his beer bottle down between his legs.

Nodding Brian did the same.

"Yeah. Its like I get what Draco and Raven told me to do, which is to just see myself the way I want to be and then just will it but nothing's happened. The most I get is a weird tickle at the back of my neck. It feels like a muscle that wants to move but its too weak to. Gave myself a migraine trying so I gave up for a while."

"Damn. I've always wondered what it felt like," Max said, looking down into the open eye of his bottle.

"What, the shifting itself?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, his blue eyes distant. "Just being able to put on a human face and step outside and blend in and no one looks at you like you're going to eat their face off. Just to be one of the crowd instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. Sounds like bullshit and it probably is but...it is what it is, I guess."

Suddenly the air in the room changed and Brian felt the seriousness return and in that moment, he realized Max was opening up to him in a way that he probably hadn't done for anyone, if ever at all. Swallowing quietly, Brian turned to face him on the couch and felt his ears swivel towards him.

"I can see why you'd like that. It would be nice, sometimes, to just melt into the crowd. It's kind of hard to blend in though, even before this happened. I'm a tall bastard."

Max nodded quietly and sat his beer on the table with a heavy clunk. Something was clawing at Brian's mind and he fought it for as long as he could before giving in and giving it a voice.

"Max, your mom. Your dad. Those images....tell me about them. I feel like I know them but at the same time, they're ghosts to me. Who were they?"

Brian's words caused Max to visibly stiffen and his ears fell towards his head, his blue eyes went far away and Brian wondered if he saw fields of snow and smelled the thick scent of pine. Brian thought for a moment that he would sit back on the couch and not say a word or change the subject or tell him to piss off but none of that happened. What did happen, shocked Brian as much as anything ever could.

Max sat back on the couch, legs spread, arms not crossed, and for that tiny eternity, he looked more vulnerable than Brian had ever seen him. Taking a deep breath, Max blew it out and without looking at Brian began to speak. His voice was calm at first, but as it went on, Brian noticed he was struggling to talk about it but couldn't bring himself to interrupt.

"I guess you have a right to know after all I've put you through so here goes. I was born in Juneau in the fall of 1979. My parents were good people. Kind people. My mom was school teacher at Donner Elementary and my dad was an oil worker for Exxon. He was a shifter and proud of it too. My mom was human. They met when they were sixteen and fell head over heels for each other. Believe me; they had sappy pictures all over the house. Used to make me sick as a kid," Max said, attempting to grin but only half succeeding.

"We had a good life for a while. When I was in third grade though, things changed. There was a fight. A boy was hurt. Instead of punishing the kids who started it, the school board suggested I be transferred to another school in the area to avoid any more issues. They said there was an all shifter school not far outside of town and that it would be a better learning environment for me there. My mom said no, that I needed to be among kids, all kinds of kids but they pushed and finally, after it happened again in fourth grade, she pulled me out of school altogether and gave up teaching to home school me."

"What the hell....." was all Brian could say as Max continued. "That is fucked up..."

"We started getting threats in the mail, and some assholes tagged my dad's truck. Someone shanked his tires. Eventually, we moved to Nome, to get away from the city, to get a fresh start and for a while, it seemed like we had a good start. We had a great hiking trip one year and after that I always wanted to go, every winter. Sometimes it would be too dangerous and we had to stay home but my dad would set up a tent in the living room in front of the fire place and we'd have a little camp right there with marshmallows and graham crackers."

"Sounds like you all were very close." Brian said quietly, having turned to face Max.

"Heh. We were. They were my world, Brian. When everything else sucked, mom and dad were always there for me. Always. Like a rock. I never imagined I'd have to...to have them taken from me."

"That is a feeling I know too well."

"Yeah...I know you do." Max replied quietly thoughtful. " Anyway....it was one winter when was I seventeen, I had gone out on a hike not far from the house. I had a little spot that no one else knew about that overlooked the ocean in a little clearing of pine trees. I could be up there and look down at the entire town. I had gone up that night against mom's advice. She thought it was too cold but I went anyway. It eventually did get too cold and I had to turn back and when I got back..."

"Listen, you don't have to tell me anymore...it's okay. I'm sorry I asked." Brian said quickly, and Max shook his head. "No, I need to tell you. I do."

Taking a deep breath, Brian watched as Max relived his nightmares.

"I smelled the smoke first before I saw the embers in the air. When I got into the yard, I saw men dressed in dark robes, like the KKK wear only black. I saw my dad. He was shifted but somehow they got the jump on him...I think they bled him out because there was so much blood. It turned the snow scarlet. I lost my temper and charged them. I hurt one or two them pretty bad before they finally got me down and beat me pretty good. I remember voices and shouting and something slashed me in the face," he told Brian as he unconsciously touched his snout. The four scars were there on his muzzle, barely visible in the light.

"I heard them shout at someone in the house, but I don't remember what. They kicked me loose and dumped me and ran. I went over to my dad and tried to get him up but he was gone. The house was engulfed. I knew it was a matter of time before the propane tanks got hot enough to blow and I could only think about my mom. I ran into the house and found her upstairs. She had been stabbed....she was lying in her room, the one with the big bay window that overlooked the woods behind the house."

"Jesus...Max...I..." Brian stammered but Max pressed on, clenching his fist as he did.

"I picked her up and held her....I could hear her heart slowing down and she looked up at me and she touched my face and tried to tell me something but she didn't make it....she just faded away. The next thing I know, I had woken up in a hospital in town, with my feet and hands covered in bandages from burns and my fur was singed and seared. My lungs hurt from the smoke but the police told me what happened. The propane tanks had finally blown and the explosion threw me clear of the house. I never even got to bury my parents because there wasn't anything left to bury. The blast incinerated what was left of my life, my family. All of it was gone. The town tried to get me into a group home but I didn't stay. I ended up running away, living from day to night, under bridges, in burned out cars, making my way down the coast and across the country. I spent almost all my twenties like a fucking hobo. Draco finally found me a few years ago and helped me turn things around. If it weren't for him, I don't know where I'd be."

"But the mechanics shop....how did..." Brian asked, stunned.

"My dad taught me from the time I could handle a wrench. I loved spending time with him working on the car and the snowmobiles. I just took what I knew, the one thing I had left from them and applied it. And that's my story....that's me in a nut shell."

Brian sat back, unsure of how to answer, what to say or what reply was good enough.

"That explains a lot about you, I think. So much of it makes sense now. What were their names?"

Max's blue eyes looked moist but tears did not fall.

"Eric and Diana."

"Just wow.....you had no one. Its no wonder you didn't trust me or anyone else. I'm sorry you had to go through all that." Brian said, sitting forward, his tail hanging off the couch.

Max sighed and shrugged. "It is what it is. That's got me through a lot of shit and it still does. Still, not everything about me is depressing I guess. Favorite sport is boxing," he told Brian. Brian smiled. "Yeah I kinda picked up on that one."

"I do have other interests you know. Don't tell anyone but I'm a Trekkie."

"Bullshit." Brian said flatly flabbergasted.

Max nodded. "Yup."

"Max, why don't you show this side of yourself to others...Raven...Draco...hell, even Jackson. The real you isn't some grouchy gruff asshole, the real you is a pretty awesome guy." Brian remarked, standing up and popping his back again. Sitting still was causing him to get stiff and he needed motion.

"I have a reputation, you know. It helps to keep it up." Max said, seriously, putting on his gruff face again.

"We can't be friends if you're a Kirk fan." Briand told him dead pan serious.

"I guess its lucky for you I'm a Janeway fan."

"You need some fresh air? I do. It's a bit stuffy in here..." Brian said, moving towards the garage stairwell door.

"Help yourself. Just watch out for the bike in the work area. That guy would have my head on a pike if anything touched his fucking bike." Max said, standing up and heading off towards the bathroom. Nodding, Brian made for the garage. Once downstairs, he hit the light switched and the overhead fluorescents flickered once, twice and then held their steady electric brilliance. As Max had stated and as Brian had seen when they first came in the, bike in question was right in the middle of the work bay. Its frame was a cherry red with chrome accents. Its handlebars swept up and back and the Harley Davidson logo was emblazoned on the side. Brian felt a twinge of admiration. A true chopper, then.

Instead of going outside or to the roof, Brian moved over to Max's private gym area, where his punching bag hung like a dark sentinel from its metal frame and there behind it was the photo of Max's family.

Eric and Diane Mullen, Brian told himself as he looked at them, finally able to put faces to names. Here among the detritus of life, Brian truly saw Max's private space for the first time. He saw a thick beat up old brown leather wallet, thick with cards and receipts. A pile of blue spiral bound receipt books were stacked off to the left and there next to them sure enough was a small poster from Star Trek: Voyager. Brian smiled. How had he missed it the first time? Maybe he wasn't really seeing Max for who he was, and only instead, what he appeared to be.

With no one around, Brian took a few swings at the punching bag.

The swings were clumsy, unskilled, and he realized how much he was out of practice. Simmons would have had his head. Strictly speaking, the only training they were supposed to call on at work was non-violent restraint but Simmons had always made sure they had a few more tools in their tool box so to speak for the more rowdy hospital clients that got rough with the nurses and staff.

Taking up a stance, Brian decided to give the bag a few more whacks.

Thunk

_ Thunk-thunk._

_ Thunk._

_ _ It felt good to be in motion, and it always did. For Brian, motion was like therapy. It helped him think. It helped him write. In those moments, motion removed any external thoughts, removed him from the flow of time and he could just exist free in his mind.

He never heard Max's footsteps come down and enter the garage nor did he feel Max's eyes on him as Max stood, leaning in the doorframe, watching him box badly and he never saw the tiny grin pull at the corners of Max's mouth.

"Your stance is off."

Brian jumped. Max's gruff voice surprised him and he nearly yelped. Perhaps feeling more embarrassed than he should have he stopped what he was doing, turned to face Max and stammered.

"Oh well...you know...just trying to work out some kinks."

"Is that what that was?" Max asked, coming across the room, his hands in his jeans pockets, tail flowing behind him, his ears alert, his eyes holding none of the gentle mocking that was going on in his voice.

"Its been a while since I've been at the gym, you know." Brian defended himself, blowing a lock of fur out of his face.

"Let me show you a few things," Max said and stepped closer to Brian. He grabbed Brian gently by the shoulders and turned him around to face the bag. Brian felt Max's large powerful hands fall upon his shoulders and that scent was suddenly back, the smell of pristine snow and cool sunlight on pine trees. Coming up behind him, Brian felt Max's hands move from his shoulders down to his biceps and then to his forearms.

"Lift your arms up like this...one a bit higher than the other....always guard your face....no matter what. Your head is your top priority. Never let a blow land there." Max said, adjusting Brian's forearms up in front of his snout.

"Right..."

Moving behind Brian again, Brian felt Max's body press against his and an electric charge shot down Brian's spine. A hot rush flooded his brain and he felt his lower jaw begin to tremble. Max's body felt hot, like fire, even though the clothes. His scent of aftershave and winter was overpowering. Brian could feel the power in the muscles of Max's chest and stomach as Max breathed, could feel the thick leather of his belt and the rough texture of Max's jeans pressing against him.

Brian felt himself begin to tremble as Max's hands and thick arms found their way around his waist, adjusting his stance. He felt Max's right leg shoot between his feet and push them apart.

"Now," Max said, his snout in Brian's ear, his voice low. "Brace your weight on your hips and knees. Stay loose. Never go rigid; if you go rigid, your center of gravity will pull you down. Use your shoulders to direct your throws." As he talked, Max's hands moved up from Brian's waistline and up to his arms, pistoning them out one at a time, rotating his shoulders as Max put him through the slow motions of a proper right and left hook.

"Okay..."

For a moment before he pulled back, Brian felt Max pause, his jaw and snout hovering over Brian's neck, his nose nearly touching Brian's skin. Brian felt that hot wave that washed over him hit him again and this time there was no doubt about it. As Max's warm breath caressed his neck, lifting the fur there, Brian shuddered like a horse and felt the shudder run down the front of his stomach coursing lower and lower into his legs and he felt himself becoming more than nervous. He felt himself becoming very much aroused in a way he didn't understand or fully comprehend. It was deeper than a physical response though the sudden extreme tightness in the front of his jeans told him it definitely had a physical component.

He suddenly felt the need to move, to change the subject, anything yet a part of him, longed for Max to stay there. It was a deep primitive part of his brain and he felt within the stirrings of something more powerful and primal then he had known himself to ever possess as a deep within him a beast began to growl low in the shadows of his mind.

Before he could do anything, a sharp electric trilling broke the moment into a thousand pieces and Max stepped back. Not turning around fully wanting to hide the very obvious erection he was now sporting, Brian busied himself by walking behind some of the weights on the bench.

The sound, it turned out, was Max's phone going off. Sighing, Max pulled it from his jeans pocket and the blue glow from it lit up his grey furred face. Brian watched his face crumple into a scowl and then with a sigh, Max clicked the phone off.

"Man...its late..you know...we should get some rest. I'm gonna call it a night. You're welcome to the couch."

The sudden transformation in Max's mood and his mannerisms threw Brian for a total loop and once his problem was gone, he stepped out from the bench and nodded towards Max's phone.

"Everything okay?" "Yeah. Its all good. Just stuff with a customer. The asshole with the bike. Wants it done tomorrow but not gonna happen." Max told him and Brian got the distinct impression he was being lied to but unable to give any evidence as to how he knew, did the only thing he could which was to shrug and roll with it.

"Asshole." Brian said, flashing Max a disarming grin.

"Yeah. He is. I'll be up in a few. Gonna work on some things down here before I come up." Max replied. Nodding, Brian turned and trotted up the stairs, his mind racing down so many tracks and roads mentally speaking that he felt like he needed some downtime in all honest truth.

When he was alone and the garage door had closed with a click, Max pulled his phone back up and clicked on the screen. There, in the messages was a single message in a green bubble.

"Another dead tonight. Please find out where this is coming from. No more dead bodies. Please, Max."- Raven.

_ _ Sighing, Max looked up at the closed garage door and thought about Brian. There was something truly special about that guy. He felt like he should tell him what Raven had asked him to do. Closing his phone down, he shoved it into his pocket and crossed the garage to his lock box and entered the combination, opening the metal lid with a slight squeak.

Reaching in, he came out with a glowing blue vial, the same one Raven had handed him last week at the manor when they had brought Brian up to talk with Draco. Raven's soft voice came up out of the shadows of his mind.

"I need your help, Max"

_ "On what?"_

_ "People are dying. My lab techs can't figure out what this is or where it comes from. Its killed too many. You know the streets better than anyone else I know. You can find the source of it then we can have the cops move in and clean it out before anyone else dies."_

_ "That's a big maybe, Raven...How would I even begin to track it down?"_

_ Raven had cracked open the vial and the smell of the drug was nauseating, making his eyes water. "You can smell it. You've got the best nose out of any of us. Just don't do anything stupid, just find it and come back. That's all. Can you do that?"_

Max closed the lock box lid and slid the vial into his jeans pocket. He hadn't been out on the streets since Brian had shown up and it looked like that was about to change. Raven had never asked anything of him before but she had always been there for him unconditionally. It was a stupid idea but there was nothing wrong with scoping things out and gathering intel. Don't engage just get it and come back. Simple.

He would wait, he thought until Brian was fully asleep and then making his way out across the roof tops where he could get the best scent profile. For now, he made his way back up stairs and made a show of being tired and thoroughly full. Having some small talk with Brian, Max tossed off his shirt and helped put the food away before collapsing into his bed, his back to Brian, still in his jeans, with his right hand covering his right front pocket.

An hour or two passed and gradually, as Brian lay on the couch, his mind racing, he found himself dozing off, the carb overload from the pizza and beer catching up to him and before long it legitimately took him down and sleep claimed him as well.

In the darkened apartment, Max's ears perked towards the sound of Brian's breathing and they listened carefully to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Carefully, Max turned over and sat up in his bed, his bare feet touching the floor, the thick pads on the bottoms of his feet muffling the sound. Glancing at the nightstand clock, he saw that it was two in the morning. In the darkness, his eyes glowed amber yellow and in the blue-grey of his night vision, he saw that Brian was indeed passed out, his left arm hanging off the sofa, his long legs dangling off the other end.

Yanking his phone out of his pocket, Max cut the volume off of it and slid into his nightstand. Standing, he quickly pulled on his boots and moved carefully, placing his heel down before the balls of his feet, walking heel to toe, effectively canceling out any sound he would have made as he walked. He deftly avoided the step up onto the kitchen as that board always squeaked. He fingered the vial in his pocket as he stepped up to the door that led out of the apartment and into the connecting hallway. For a moment and he didn't know why, he glanced back and looked at Brian's form as he lay sleeping peacefully.

A part of Max desperately wanted to stay here and another part of him told him that this was a stupid idea but the loudest part, was the scars from the past that had always guided him and so, in this case, they did as they always did, pulling him in a direction that he could no more change than the planets could around the sun. For a few hours, he had almost felt normal. Felt a connection. Felt something, but then real life kicks hard and it always goes for the balls.

"I'm sorry." He said simply and left the apartment.

Heading for the roof, he stepped out onto the gravel and cracked open the vial, inhaling its contents deeply, before closing it and shoving it into his pants pocket. Instantly he felt the smallest of euphoric highs hit his system, as a billion stars wanted to suddenly be born in his brain. His arms and legs tingled and he shook it off as the smell of it hit him square in the face.

It was noxious, almost sulfuric and there was nothing like in his experience or in all his time in the city. That meant tracking it down would be somewhat easier. Closing his eyes, he began to breathe deep, slowly inhaling and exhaling, in through his nose out through his mouth, tasting everything the air had to offer. Car exhaust, rut, blood, motor oil, stagnant water. Tears and joy. The burning hot scents of late night grease shacks and filmy scent of late night Laundromats.

There it was, hovering like a poison fog. First, he visualized it as the information came to him, flooding his brain. His apartment, his garage. Draco's manor, Raven handing him the vial. No, deeper, he pushed.

There.

_ _ The scent led offer deeper into the older part of town, deeper down near where the old coal power plant was, near the river.

Mentally measuring his steps, Max backed up and took off at a run, his powerful legs pumping and propelling him into the air as he reached the edge of his rooftop. He soared through the air, touching down with a crunch of gravel and leather before standing and moving again, running off into the night, hunting down his quarry.

*******

In his dreams, Brian was not alone. The hulking beast from his nightmares before was with him and it walked in the shadows, stalking him, though it was not hunting him, he realized. It was simply watching him with its silver white eyes, eyes that had no irises or pupils. It lurked, breathing and as he walked down the empty hallway to get closer to it, the dreamscape shifted and this time he was in room that looked familiar yet was nowhere he had ever been before. There was a dark shadow standing before him, powerfully built, stocky and twin eyes gleamed in the dark. Reach out a hand, he touched its face and felt hot fur and a low rumbling growl was sent through the shadow form into his arm. He felt no fear from it and instead moved closer to see its face and--

He woke up.

Blinking owlishly, Brian felt the leather couch beneath him squeak and he remembered where he was. The room was dark but his eyes adjusted quickly as the blue-grey night vision he now possessed settled in and he found that he appreciated it. It was good to not be totally blind in the dark like he had been before all this. He was shirtless and his shirt and socks and shoes lay on the floor next to the couch. He never could sleep in socks; it always made him too hot. Throwing the thin blanket and sheet off of himself, he sat up and rubbed his stomach absently.

Max's apartment. What time was it? Why had he woke up to begin with? Scowling with his sleep swollen face searching out a clock, he found the one next to Max's empty bed. It read 4:00 AM.

Damn it was early, he thought annoyed. He was about to go back to sleep when he suddenly realized the importance of what he had just skimmed over.

Max's bed was empty.

Getting to his feet, Brian hit the lights on the table next to the touch and instantly the world was flooded with the warm amber glow. A moment later, his vision returned to normal and confirmed that Max's bed was indeed empty. The sheets and blankets were barely disturbed, he noticed as he got closer, the hard wood floors creaking under his feet. He looked off towards the bathroom and saw the door was hanging open and the light was off. It was empty.

Frowning, Brian went out and down to the garage.

Empty. Max wasn't there either.

Now thoroughly perplexed, he returned to the apartment and stood, confused, arms crossed, in the kitchen wondering what the hell was going on since Max's truck was still here. Something wasn't right, he knew and he didn't like it. As he walked through the apartment looking for any clue that might tell him where Max had went, Brian found a part of his mind was wandering back to what had happened downstairs between them in the garage.

There was no denying it now, he thought. I have feelings for this guy. I feel something powerful and strong when he is near and I can't explain it but I like it.

Brian was fairly sure that Max felt it too and he wondered what might have happened if that phone call or text or whatever it was hadn't came through.

The phone.

An idea blossomed in Brian's mind as he quickly hunted for Max's phone, feeling guilty for going through the man's belongings. He turned out Max's pants pockets, found nothing and then heard it. A quick rhythmic vibrating buzz.

A phone on vibrate.

He swiveled his ears around like radar dishes, searching for the source and he found it a moment later.

Brian yanked open Max's night table and found his phone in its orange and black case vibrating in the drawer among the detritus of Max's life: coins, old coupons, nail clippers and of course, a bottle of personal lotion.

Feeling his face flush hot, Brian picked up and the phone and was glad that Max didn't seem to take security that seriously because the text on the phone was still visible.

Be careful out there. - Raven.

There were other messages but Brian couldn't get past the fingerprint sensor. The message was barely a few hours old. What in the world did Raven mean by "be careful out there?"

Sniffing, Brian caught a whiff of something he had missed before. It was an acrid chemical odor, strong and noxious that made his stomach want to come up and he recognized it immediately.

It was the same drug that man had been on in the emergency room. He hadn't smelled it sense but even then, as a human, it had stank to high heaven and here it was again. Max wasn't a druggie as far as Brian knew. It wasn't his speed so that meant he was using it for something else...for what....

_ _ Pulling on his shirt and shoes, Brian followed the scent out of the apartment and surprisingly found that it did not go down into the garage but rather turned left at the stairwell that led to the locked roof door. He had never been up to the roof of Max's building and mounted the steps two at a time. At the top, a simple steel push door was all that was between him and the outside and Brian nervously saw that it was unlocked. Pushing it, it opened with a click and he stepped out onto the flat unadorned roof of Max's apartment building and garage.

The roof was layered in black shingle and gray loose gravel. A series of small vents poked up near the far left side next to an aging air conditioning unit. A pole led up to the power lines and the telephone transmission wires but otherwise the roof was spartan. There were no lights and Brian was soon seeing in the blue-grey of his night vision.

"Max are you up here?" He called, his voice sounding oddly small in the early morning darkness.

No answer.

Scowling, he sniffed again and found that the scent trail of the drug led right to the edge of the roof which made no sense at all. Back tracking, Brian tried to put it together.

Then he saw them.

Boot tracks. Big boot tracks. Work boot tracks.

Max wore work boots. They had displaced the gravel and were plainly visible in the blue grey hues of his vision. Astounded, he followed the tracks back the door the roof access door and then turned back around and followed them to the edge of the roof. He saw that their depth and spread changed as they got closer to the edge and it dawned on him why.

Max had not taken his truck or any conventional means of leaving the apartment. He had taken a running leap and was using the roof tops to make his way to wherever it was he was going. Wherever that was, it was bad enough for Raven to tell him to be careful. Whatever that business was about, Brian didn't care but what Brian did care about was Max being out there in the city alone involved in God knew what. The only logical answer as to what to do came to his mind in a single moment of glorified insanity.

Follow him.

Max had risked his life to save Brian and now he was out there, and he may need help. He would deal with the fallout from whatever Raven was hiding and he was sure it was something and whatever it was involved that drug that started this whole mess. That meant that answers were wherever Max was headed. Making up his mind, Brian knew what he had to do. At the moment, he didn't know if he could trust Raven anymore but he did trust Max.

Closing his eyes, Brian inhaled, in through his nose and out through his mouth, seeking not the drug's scent but rather Max's unique smell, and after a moment of struggling, he focused his mind enough of find the trail and it did indeed head out and over the roof tops.

_That's where I'm headed then,_he thought and quickly ran over the distance between this roof and the building next door. Max's apartment building was only three stories tall and the building next door was about the same size. The alleyway between the two of them however, looked precipitously far below, Brian thought as he stood at the edge and looked down. Heights had never bothered him exactly but then again, he had never contemplated actually doing what he was about to do. Swallowing down his apprehension, he went back far enough (he hoped) and lined himself up with the edge of the roof. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and then charged into an open sprint.

He had never ran before in his new wolf form and thus when he ordered his legs to move, they not only moved, they exploded with speed. Too much speed. He was moving too fast but it was too late and the edge of the roof loomed ahead. Planting one foot on it he boosted himself off it, launching himself into the air. Swinging his arms wildly he crashed down hard on the opposite roof, slamming hard on his ass, coming up in a roll that scraped his knees and elbows bloody, driving the wind from him.

Groaning from the pain, he got to all fours and then, gingerly made his way to his feet, testing to see if he had broken anything.

Besides my pride...

No, everything seemed more or less intact. He hadn't known how fast he was in wolf form but now he knew that he was not just fast but he was blazingly fast. And he could jump. Just like Max did that night when he took a multi-story fall only to land on his feet unharmed.

"Ok, Ok, I can do this....I got this..." Brian said, psyching himself up as he looked at the next building which was slightly higher by a good ten feet. That was where the scent was and that was where he had to go. The building was flat sided except for a wrought iron fire escape. If I could make it to the fire escape and boost myself up...

_ _ With another charge and a yell, Brian launched himself at a running leap at the fire escape and with a loud clatter that rattled his bones and dangled him a good four stories above the ground, he managed to snag it and pull himself up onto it. Gasping with pride and a bit of irrational cockyness, he made to move towards the next building but quickly found those hopes dashed.

The building he had landed on was a good two stories higher than the one he needed to leap to and between them was an entire street, not just a side alley. He walked to the edge of the building's railing and looked down. Below him the street lights glowed amber and a car honked as it drove past a hooker on the sidewalk. The distance between them was at least twenty feet of open air. If he missed it and fell, he thought he might just end up killing himself.

"Fucking hell..." he snarled, aggravated as he stood back from the edge, unsure of what to do or how to procede.

The idea that he could make it began to germinate in his mind like a weed while his rational brain argued that it was a suicide run. That didn't stop Max from leaping down into gun fire to save me, he snapped at himself mentally.

His heart hammering in his chest, Brian took one final glance at the edge of the roof and the open black space beyond it. He couldn't even see the other roof from here. It was a leap of faith.

"This is crazy..." he told himself but dropped into a running stance anyway, this time more mindful of the power he actually had in his legs. He hoped it would be enough.

In three, he told himself.

One....

Two.....

Fuck it.

He bolted.

His feet hammered the roof top, tossing up gravel as it crunched under his weight, his tail flying, his fur lifting, his green eyes blazing, the rail was coming up faster and faster the railing was there he was vaulting over and then--

He was in open air, flying through space itself, gravity having lost its hold on him as he sailed like some mis-shapen mutant bird towards infinity. The gravity of course found him and it angrily snatched him out of the air, yanking him fitfully towards the earth. The roof top of his target building was rushing up at him fast and Brian realized in that nano-second that he hadn't thought of exactly who he was going to land. Instinct told him what to do and he listened to it.

He loosened his knees and ankles and when the ground slammed into him with enough force to make him cry out, he tucked and rolled twice, coming up to a skidding stop into a crouch.

Brian felt his heart was going to explode with adrenaline.

This...was cool as fuck.

"Holy shit...I'm a goddamn superhero..." he said out loud, laughing as the words left his mouth. Exhilarated he wasted no time and began lining up his next jump. He ran and for the first time in his life, Brian felt pure joy as he escaped into the moments in the dark morning light, discovering the simply ecstasy at moving at speeds so fast a human being could barely track him if he wanted, making leaps of ten feet or more, shaking off impacts like they were nothing. This was beyond his wildest dreams, his wildest expectations. These things simply didn't happen to real people yet here he was and it was happening to him.

As he ran, he lost track of time and simply followed the scent, leaping from building to building, gradually getting more graceful as he went, falling less, soaring more and finding a connection with his new body that he never knew was even possible.

****

The scent he had followed had lead him here, to old ware houses near the docks and there, Max crouched, perched like a gargoyle on the edge of a concrete roof, looking down at just one of the buildings, shadows dancing wildly like drunken wraiths flitting among the crates and containers that were stacked up like metal firewood. Old street lights lined the docks but half of them didn't even work. He watched quietly, keeping his ears pinned back along his head, watching because below, he saw that he was not alone here.

Not by far.

Below him, people milled about and in his blue-grey vision he could see that they were humans, humans toting assault rifles and gleaming pistols. Most of them appeared to be street thugs, low level dealers and each of them, Max noted, was branded with a dark black tattoo on their left forearms. A twisting infinity eight with a Roman numeral six and a snake binding them together.

The 86ers.

These were the same pukes who had tried to kill Brian two weeks ago. Brian did say that he and Elijah had stopped one of their dealers in the emergency room and that had in fact, led to the two of them being jumped later that night thanks to some corrupt cops who leaked the information to the enforcers. Max didn't understand why Raven cared so much about these assholes. If they wanted to die by overdosing on some hot new drug let them. One less piece of trash to have to clean up honestly. On the other hand, his loyalty to her and his connection to Brian had compelled him to go along with this stupid idea.

He watched the scum milling around talking but he didn't see any shipments moving in and out, nothing that would have indicated a steady flow of a drug onto the streets. In fact, it looked like everyone was mostly relaxing. He could smell them from up here, smell their sweat, their rut, their weed and their crack. Trying not gag, he squinted as a darker shadow suddenly moved from the far edge of the pier and made it way across the dock.

Whatever it was, it was massive, huge. It walked with a purposeful grace and it gave Max the willies as his fur stood on end. There was something about it that was familiar.

The eyes.

The eyes were glowing red.

Rakinos.

"What the fuck are you doing here..." Max said to himself, a low growl erupting in his throat. The slanted roof below him was made of corrugated metal sheets and he thought if he rode it down just the right way, he could jump at the end and make it behind a series of crates. This whole situation had just gotten much worse and far more interesting, he thought darkly, navigating his way down from his perch, deftly stepping out onto the edge of the slope. If Rakinos was here and he was involved in this new drug that bore looking into far more than any drug pushers or low level enforcers. Double checking the patrols, Max leaped out, stepping off the edge, his boots hitting the corrugated metal. He slid crazily but he maintained his balance and at the end of the makeshift roof ramp, he leaped coming to a hard stop landing in a crouch behind a stack of huge metal shipping containers. Now on the ground, he could get a better look at just what was going on in that warehouse.

Sliding between the shadows, Max moved silently as a predator, ducking once as a patrol of thugs went by, talking loudly, the scent of the gun oil in their weapons rich in the ebony air.

He crouched low and stuck his head around a corner just enough to see what was going on.

Rakinos and the gang members met and after a tense moment, Rakinos seemed to gain the upper hand. He motioned the gang members inside and followed not long afterward. The thugs closed the warehouse doors behind them with a metallic clang.

"Fuck..." Max cursed as he looked for a better vantage point. The warehouse building itself was flat with no fire escapes but there was a series of broken and cracked windows that had yellowed with age along the top rim and there was a stack of shipping containers that were stacked up against the wall....

Perfect.

Slinking over to them, Max crawled and clambered up the containers until he was at the top and there, the light from the inside of the warehouse spilled out through the ancient glass. On his hands and knees, careful to keep as low as he could, Max leaned over the edge of the windows and looked and listened.

Below, in the warehouse itself Max felt his heart skip a beat.

The entire warehouse was filled with thugs, and a quick count told him there were easily twenty of them, each heavily armed. Rakinos, it seemed, was alone and he was dressed in an open black leather vest, black fatigue pants and black combat boots, his open bare blood colored chest striking in the hanging lights.

Old machinery lined the walls of the ware house and a few druggies leaned against the walls twirling vials of blue liquid.

Voice drifted up from below.

"...you mean to tell me that this stuff is yours? What did you call it again?" what appeared to be the lead thug said as he swaggered forward, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder causally, stopping just in front of Rakinos who towered over everyone in the room.

"Wolf's Bane. It's a hyper-amphetemine stimulant of my own design and I know that someone in my crew leaked it to you for profit. I see that the profits from those sales," Rakinos said, eyeing the new weapons in the hands of the thugs, "has been well spent. Needless to say, I took care of my problem but now I'm here to address a new one, mainly, you fine people."

The lead thug snorted, his bald head gleaming in the light.

"The only one here who's got a problem is you, freak. If you've got security issues, not my basket, not my nuts. What do you want from us? A cut? Not happening."

Rakinos nodded. "Money is not my concern. I need volunteers. I need fearless men who would stand with me. This drug is only part of an equation. There is so much more. Power. Strength. I can give them to you. All you need to do is come work for me or," Rakinos finished, appraising the thug in front of him with a raised eyebrow. "I'll kill you all here and now and be done with it. Your choice."

The thug in charge laughed. "You have got some big balls, furface. Big old balls, I'll say to come in here, and threaten me and my guys. We out number you, ten to one or can't you count?"

Rakinos nodded.

"I think you need to recheck your math, if I were you." Rakinos said quietly, standing neutrally, his arms at his sides, but his red eyes never leaving the thug's pacing body, the gun metal gleaming in the overhead lights. Max recognized the stance Rakinos was in and knew that he was about to witness a blood bath.

"Sounds like you need a lesson in manners, dog."

With that, the lead thug ratcheted back the slide on his gun and leveled at Rakinos.

Rakinos smiled, revealing his long fangs.

"I agree. Let me teach you the first lesson."

The thug pulled the trigger and gunfire exploded but the bullets never reached Rakinos.

A hulking dark form had appeared out of the shadows faster than even Max's eyes could track. The bullet slammed into it with wet thunks but despite the spray of blood and gristle, the hulking form showed no sign of pain. Standing on two thick powerful legs with a ragged tail, its broad back was double the size of Max himself with its arms as big around as his torso. Large hands splayed out into long curving claws and a thick neck led up to a huge head, a head that was wolfish in form and shape with torn ears, bleeding snarling gums and a pair of red gleaming eyes. Some kind of metal bracelet winked on its right forearm and Max saw a glint of blue fluid inside of it.

He felt a strange breed of astonishment and fear explode in his chest as he took in the strange creature. It growled a deep resonant sound that Max could feel up here, on the crates. What his eyes refused to register, his brain screamed at him and the reality was too horrifying to contemplate.

That thing that had moved between the gunfire and Rakinos and not even flinched as high powered rounds ate into it was some type of shifter or had been and instead, it had been warped, mutated, changed into a hulking monster. Max felt sick as he watched it shoot out a hand, its black claws flashing as it punched squarely through the thug's chest. A violent red spray filled the air with scarlet mist and the thug spasmed, jerking once, twice, hanging on the things arm impaled up to its wrist like some kind of god awful fish. Blood ran down from his mouth in rivulets and his eyes roamed crazily as his brain died, but very much aware of what was happening to him as the monster literally crushed his beating heart in its hand.

Grabbing the man's twitching body with its free left hand, the monster ripped him apart, tearing him into twin bloody chunks before dropping his steaming entrails onto the warehouse floor, the man's dead eyes staring up at the ceiling, his gun useless.

The beast stood still as Rakinos stepped forward.

"As you can see, I'm not so outnumbered as to need to be concerned. As I was saying, I can kill you all, or offer you the chance of a life time. Come with me, and have this power for yourself. "

Before anyone could answer there was a struggle, the sounds of fists hitting flesh, a snarl of anger and rage and then an explosion of glass. Rakinos stepped aside as a grey furred form was knocked through the windows high up on the warehouse wall and came to a slamming stop at his feet, rolling in the dust, blood running from his snout.

A moment later, a thick set werewolf with blue-black fur dropped in behind him and his eyes were blazing with yellow hatred.

"John...you seem to have caught an eaves dropper." Rakinos said, stepping forward.

The blue-black werewolf nodded. "Bastard was listening in upstairs."

"I'm so glad I got you out of prison. Its good to have you back, old friend. Now...who do we have here..." Rakinos said, moving his gaze from John, otherwise known was Brutus, and letting it fall on Max's crumpled form. Max had tried to get up and was on his knees. He saw Rakinos and lunged, teeth bared but Rakinos back handed him so hard in the temple that Max rolled like a rag doll.

Max's body crashed hard into a set of crates, throwing up dust as the wood splintered.

"Max Mullen. Imagine finding you here. I think I preferred you on your knees."

Rakinos launched a savage kick, and with a wet meaty snap, four of Max's ribs broke like twigs. Coughing up blood, Max tried to stand and failed.

Rakinos motioned to those gang members who stood around him.

"If you want the power I've offered you, then you can meet me in two days time at the coal plant. If you want to prove your loyalty, you can start by killing him." Rakinos snarled, jerking his head towards Max.

Rakinos, the blue-black werewolf and the hulking monster made for the doors and as they stepped through, Rakinos looked back at Max. Max was on his knees, his mouth oozing blood, his eye swollen and his chest heaving. Blue eyes met red eyes.

"Kill him slowly. The first one to bring his head to me intact gets my personal favor."

With that Rakinos and his men vanished into the night, leaving Max crumpled in the middle of a throng of well armed and now very enticed men who had seen power and wanted power. Going through one lousy werewolf was going to be easy in their minds and Max knew that he may have gotten in over his head this time as thugs cast aside their guns and stepped forward with bare hands, iron rebar and anything else they could get their hands on.

Fuck, he thought as the first blows began to rain down with vicious certainty.

*****

WHAM!

Brain landed heavily, the corrugated metal roof cracking loudly with metallic thunder, bending his knees, quickly finding his tail came in handy for balancing, his chest thumping, his blood hammering hot in his ears, exhilarated and high on adrenaline. Rising from his crouch, he had no idea how far he had come but it had to be at least a mile, maybe two. The buildings had evolved in their challenges, some had been higher others lower and still others were adorned with antennae and satellite dishes. Thankfully, all of them had been mercifully free of people. He sniffed the air and smelled water. He was near the docks then.

The thick fishy scent of the river and its unique Dawson City brew of waste confirmed what his eyes saw a moment later, looking over the edge of the building he was on. This part of the docks, he thought, was older, disused and generally looked considerably more abandoned and derelict than the new modern sections with their cranes that he could see in the distance. Those areas were well lit; this area with its two huge warehouse looked like something out of an old noir movie, just begging for trouble.

Breathing hard, he ducked down fast.

He wasn't alone.

Three figures were moving out from one warehouse, the big one with the row of broken windows on the upper floor. One of them looked familiar and squinting Brian had to suppress a gasp.

Rakinos.

The same giant guy from the manor last week. What the hell was he doing here? Beside him walked a similarly large werewolf with blue-black fur and snarling yellow eyes and there, behind them was something Brian didn't know what to make of. It was bigger than Rakinos himself yet walked slowly, with almost a shuffle, like it was having a hard time to moving its massive legs.

The three of them entered the shadows around the dock side and vanished, melting away as if they had never existed.

A moment later voices came from the warehouse. Brian could hear them, muted and distorted from the distance but they were definitely people in that building. He also heard snarls of rage and pain.

Something whistled through the air and impacted something soft with a disgusting wet squelch. The sharp whine of pain that was distinctly canine made Brian's heart jump and the fur on the back of neck stand up. Someone was getting beaten in that building and a horrible realization sunk in that he knew where Max was.

Something stirred in him, something that had until now lain dormant. It squirmed in him like a worm, moving after eons of slumber, locked inside of him for too long and it wanted out.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Brian leaped over the edge of the building, hitting the roof, sliding down its metal sides, his boots scuffing and catching a bit on the edges until he was over the edge and landed on the flat asphalt of the dock yard. The landings were becoming easier he thought as he stood and bolted for the shadows, his black fur melting him into the obsidian darkness, in effect, making him invisible. His green eyes flared in the darkness and he realized he couldn't do anything about that.

For the last time that night, his rational mind tried to argue with him.

He was a security guard, not a street fighter. He only had basic combat skills and pretty bad ones at that. He didn't know how to fight and here he was, about to charge into a building full of god who knew how many thugs. This was insanity. He was going to himself killed. He should call for help.

No phone, he reminded himself. Even if he did, who would he call? They'd never get here in time. Cops? Cops in this city were corrupt. Not to be trusted. That meant that he was in fact, going to have to go in there and do something. No one else could or would. There was no one else to rely on.

His dad had taught him at an early age to not stand by and let others act when the time was called and it was him who was being asked to act. People died that way.

Swallowing the last of his fear and anxiety, Brian closed his eyes and pushed everything else out of his mind. He had skills he didn't have before. He could hear for miles. He could scent for just the same. He could see in the dark. He was stronger than most humans, faster.

_I can do this... _

_ _ "HEY! What the hell are you doing here?!"

The surprised voice cried out from behind him and he whirled, his eyes shining in the dark to see one of the thugs had came up behind him. The gleam of the black metal of the assault rifle in his hands shone in the dock lights. That rifle was quickly lowered and pointed in his face and in that moment, Brian let go and simple did what he was best at. He moved.

As the rifle lowered down to his chest, everything seemed to slow down. Brian charged the thug, ducking under the barrel, using his shoulder to shove the gun up and away from himself, grabbing the man's weapon arm in a hard grip, digging his claws into the soft pink flesh.

With a grunt and cry of pain, the man angrily sprayed off a round or two, the sound painfully loud in Brian's ears, nearly deafening him. Snarling Brian held onto the guy's gun arm and threw him out before slamming a powerful right hook into his jaw bone.

The sound of his knuckles hitting the man's skull was loud and the sound of his jaw bone breaking was even louder.

The thug dropped to the ground, blood pouring from his nose, completely unconscious as the gun skittered away.

Panting Brian knew that the gun fire had probably alerted whoever else was in the building and moved. He couldn't stay here. With a two step leap and a bound, he found himself at the front edge of the building and thankfully the doors were open. Kneeling, he peeked around the corner.

The warehouse itself was full of old machinery and tool parts. Stacks of wooden crates took up most of the space and the only lights were a series of dim yellow things that hung from the roof. His eyes narrowed as he saw the source of the sounds he had heard outside.

There was a ring of about twenty men, all of them surrounding a single person, all of them taking their turns beating on that person with makeshift melee weapons. Crowbars, fists, broken bottles. Brass knuckles.

Max.

Max was in the middle of the circle, standing on his feet and barely managing to keep his feet at that Brian noted. He was totally outnumbered. Blood poured from half a dozen open wounds even as his body tried to heal them, Brian saw that it couldn't keep up with the damage.

Max was crouched over, hunched over really, his breathing was ragged. To his credit, he still managed to land a solid blow on one of the thugs with the brass knuckles, sending him sprawling.

He got a crowbar to the back of the knees for his trouble.

With a cry of pain Max went down on all fours, blood leaking from his snout and ears.

"What was that? Someone's fired off a round outside." One of the larger men said, stopping midway in his beating. He motioned at two of the others. "Go see what that was. We'll finish this up."

Brian noticed that none of them had guns and he quickly found out why. All of their guns were lain up against a table. They had set them aside to torture Max and make it as slow as possible, to inflict as much pain as they could.

That thought caused the thing deep inside him to stir more, more aggressively. He felt a change slowly come over him and he saw red. Rage. Unbridled unchained rage.

The two men that had been sent to check out the gunfire made for the gun tables and Brian knew he had to act now. Glancing around, he found no weapons of his own but a second glance revealed an ten foot piece of steel rebar propped up against the wall.

Perfect.

Snatching it, he crouched low, closing his eyes as to not give away his position, his ears swiveling in the direction of the foot falls, relying on the blackness of his fur to keep him hidden. The two men cocked their guns lazily and were about five feet from Brian when he sprang.

Swirling the rebar like a staff, he laid the pole into the side of one man's skull sending him sprawling, his gun clattering away into the water with a wet splash. The other man had more of an advantage and ducked Brian's reverse swing over his head, ducking the deadly metal bar.

Going low, Brian simply swiped the man's feet out from under him and brought the metal bar down hard across his head in a single sharp rap. Whether he had killed him or not, Brian didn't really care as long as the man stayed down where he belonged, which he did.

The sharp sounds of metal on flesh drew the attention of the others and they turned.

"What the hell....who the hell are you?" the thug in charge snarled, unsheathing a knife, dropping the makeshift club he was wielding. He looked over the new comer. A tall powerfully built werewolf, covered in jet black fur with a silver gray blaze down his front and angry glaring hot green eyes.

Brian said nothing but charged into their midst with a single goal in mind. He knew his efforts were clumsy but he made each strike count, no mistakes. A mistake was going to end up with him dead.

"GET HIM!"

Brian knew he had to keep them away from the guns and thankfully, the staff was one weapon he did at least sort of know how to use. He had taken kendo for about two years after his dad had died before giving it up. It had been for anger management and it had helped tremendously. As he moved, he wished he hadn't given it up but what he had learned came in handy now. The staff wasn't a practice blade but the principle was the same. He may have been no boxer like Max, no street fighter but he wasn't defenseless.

Ducking a blow that came at his head, Brian whipped his makeshift staff left and right in two quick snaps, dropping two of the men into bloody unconscious piles. His staff found three more bodies in quick succession, the rebar sinking hard into soft meat and bone, cracking both with lethal efficiency. Grunts and cries of pain he heard but ignored as he continued to drop them. He moved in a flurry of motion he didn't know he was capable of. He soon found his reflexes were faster than he'd ever thought. Combined with his enhanced senses the thugs couldn't touch him even with his own clumsy style.

Their numbers whittled down slowly until finally just four of them remained, as bloodied bruised bodies lay on the dirty floor. Brian saw them, watching each of them as they circled, his vision and sense of smell on overload, seeking any kind of early warning from them. They smelled like fear and testosterone. They stank. None of them had been able to get to their guns so far and that was what Brian thought had kept them both alive. However, now that it was just four of them on one, it was going to be harder to keep them away. As they circled each other, the only thing that Brian wanted was Max.

Max at this point had fallen completely to the floor, unable to even get onto all fours, and his body lay worryingly still. Brian could see his chest rising and falling slowly so he wasn't dead. Not yet.

"What are you...think you're some kind of hero....you're nothing. This isn't the movies, kid." The biggest of the thugs snarled and waved his own piece of rebar, a good three foot long chunk of heavy steel. He spat a bloody clot out of his mouth. Brian had tagged him with the edge of his rebar earlier in the melee.

The three thugs moved behind him and as Brian moved to turn and counter them, the lead thug charged, his makeshift club of rebar whistling through the air. Brian spun to block it, bringing up his staff and the two metal weapons met with a bone jarring thud that sent shudders running up Brian's arms.

Brian realized his mistake the moment it happened. He had left himself open.

The three other thugs railed him from behind with a series of violent kicks to his kidneys, his spine, and a heavy blow from something hard slammed into the back of his skull. One of them slammed their foot down onto his tail, grinding their full weight onto it. Brian yelped in agony as the bone there fractured and broke. Shards of hot pain ratcheted up and down his body and he nearly threw up but stopped himself. The third thug that had broken his tail suddenly was behind him and wrapped thick arms around Brian's neck in death grip, nearly cutting off his air.

Brian fought, bucking as hard as he could but the pain in his body and the fact that the men were surprisingly strong thwarted him. He was held now, fully at the mercy of the men he had been beating on.

Crying out, he went down on his knees, his rebar staff falling from his grasp. The lead thug kicked it away angrily as the three men moved behind him and snared him, holding him in place, their thick arms wrapped around his arms and neck.

"See...in the movies...this is where something, someone comes to save you but in real life...that kind of shit doesn't happen. You get yourself in too deep and well, boy, you die. Its just that simple. So," the thug in front of him said, the one with the knife, the same knife he had since recovered since Brian had knocked it away. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm guessing that piece of shit there is someone important to you. I'm going to kill him in front of you, make you watch him die. Then, I'm going to take my time with you. We just got an offer we can't refuse, bud and we are gonna tear this city a new asshole. You just won't be around to see it."

The thug moved towards Max, the blade glinting in the light.

Seeing that blade glint, Brian remembered how it felt to have a blade slice into him, cutting him up like a piece of meat. The searing hot pain as he had bled out in that dirty alleyway.

Snarling he growled and something like a strained whimper came out of him as he fought against his captors, unable to break their hold on him. The grip around his neck only got tighter.

That thing inside of him stirred again and this time, it did not go back to sleep. That lumbering growling presence that had haunted his dreams was now with him and for the first time, it was awake.

And it was angry.

Time seemed to slow down and sound faded away as Brian watched the man raise the knife, inches above Max's exposed neck. Brian could hear his own ragged breathing and that monster inside him begged him, whispering in his brain to be let loose, to let it run wild. It seduced him in a way that was almost sexual, whispering with its power. Straining, his teeth bared with the effort, Brian tried once again to break free and reach Max and failed.

The knife came down.

In that instant, Brian gave in to the whispers.

A hot shudder ran down his body, cascading from his head down to his feet and he felt himself begin to tremble. He seemed to fall away and become something else, something far from the action, like he was drugged. It was similar to how being put under felt like just before surgery, that feeling that he was not connected to his body any longer.

The thugs were so intent on holding him in place that none of them saw what was happening as Brian's bright green eyes began to burn away, losing all their color instead turning a silver white, his irises and pupils vanishing in the white glow that had replaced his eyes.

None of them saw as Brian's body began to change, his hands growing larger, his fingers longer, his claws lengthening, coming out of their sheaths, exposing carbon re-enforced black blades of bone. By the time the thugs began to feel the change it was too late. Brian's torso and arms had swollen, muscle layering upon muscle, the silver blaze in his fur burning away to a black that was blacker than any black hole in the darkest depths of space.

"What the hell!?"

Brian was gone and in his place was something entirely new. Snarling, it sank its curving fangs into the forearm of the man who held his left arm. Blood sprayed as the man yelled in surprise and anger.

With a roar that was deeper than any animal on earth that shook the air itself, Brian heaved himself up, throwing the men off of him, sending them falling backward. He raised himself to his feet and as the lead thug turned around to see what was happening, he felt his bladder release.

Gone was the human sized werewolf and in its place, rising like a living shadow with blazing white eyes was instead a eight foot high monster with a long wolf's snout lined with black fangs.

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

With a snarl, the monster lashed out with a vicious swipe of its right claws, backhanding him soundly. With a cry of pain, the man was sent sailing into the air, flying like a kick ball crashing down through the wooden crates on the far wall, splinters of wood flying into the air and raining down as he landed in a crumpled heap, his head twisted at an odd angle, unmoving.

The three other men charged the hulking shadow wolf, and with a roar of rage it turned on them. One of them swung a rebar piece, hitting the wolf beast that was Brian moments before in the thigh. The metal groaned and bent.

Screaming in a canine rage, the beast slashes the man's chest wide open, spilling a torrent of blood onto the ground, dropping him like a sack of flour, the rebar clanging to the ground uselessly.

The other two men worked together and moved to drive Brian's feet out from under him.

They succeeded, sending the mega-wolf sprawling onto his back.

Leaping at him, they intended to gut him with the recovered knife from their leader, the steel flashing in the light.

Brian's new form simply lashed out with a violent kick of his massive back paws. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud, sickeningly wet and solid as the jumping thug with the knife was sent thirty feet straight backward, slamming into an old lathe, hitting it so hard the massive machine was knocked end over end.

The final thug, the one he had bitten in desperation earlier to free himself, came at his skull with a boot and Brian rolled, coming to his feet. The man missed his target and went sprawling. Wasting no time, the beast that had been Brian grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him off the ground, holding him a good three feet suspended in the air. Yanking him close, the beast that was Brian MacGregor snarled at him, with his fangs less than inch away, his breath hot and bloody as the man begged for his life.

With a dismissive growl, Brian flung him to the side, sending him crashing into a set of crates further down the room. The man didn't get up.

The beast stepped forward and fell to its knees, groaning and began to shrink, its form collapsing in on itself, its arms and legs trembling. The form continued to fade away until finally, Brian was back to himself, on his knees in the middle of a room full of bodies and bloody carnage, the silver blaze on the front of his chest streaked scarlet.

He groaned in pain as his head wanted to explode and when he opened his eyes, they faded slowly from the burning white back to their iridescent green. Looking around, he saw that there were no more thugs, no more threats. He did see that his pants were shredded below the knee and that he hurt everywhere. He could feel his body knitting itself back together and he looked up.

Max.

"Max!" he yelled, his own aches forgotten as he dove forward and came up beside Max on his knees. Reaching down, he grabbed the bigger shifter by the shoulders and turned him over gently. Brian's heart sank at what he saw.

Max's thick gray fur and silver blaze were stained red, the deep wounds on his arms, legs and chest looked ugly, weeping but they were already starting to close. His breathing was slow but steady and his pulse was strong.

"Come on...I need you to stand up...we can't stay here....gotta move...." Brian pleaded with him, shaking him gently. Max groaned and cracked an eye open. Brian saw recognition in those blue eyes and felt a surge of protective energy come over him.

"We've got to get you home. Can you stand up?" he asked Max gently, his own throat raw.

Max nodded and pushed himself up only to collapse back into the dirt.

Seeing he had no choice, Brian summoned the strength he had left and scooped Max up, and laid him over his shoulder, just like Max had done for him two weeks ago. He grunted under Max's weight and Max moaned in pain, whimpering in a way that wasn't normal for him, but he didn't struggle.

Calling upon whatever reserves he had left, Brian moved, carrying his friend out of the bloody mess, bounding into the shadows, and was gone a moment later, leaving the carnage behind.

As they left, several of the men began to move again, consciousness returning to them in painful headaches of bright lights and sounds. Many of them were nursing broken fingers and parts. The lead man of course, lay very much dead in his coffin of debris. So did the man that Brian had kicked into the lathe.

However, one of them was very much not dead.

Laying in the shadows of the darkest part of the warehouse where he had landed, the man Brian had bitten lay in crumpled broken heap, groaning as a sudden onset of shivers took over his body, sending him into a brief but violent set of seizures. This passed and a moment later, his breathing stabilized, his wounds began to seal and with a groan of pain the man's eyes flew open as he sharply inhaled, his body coming to life anew in ways he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

What he couldn't see of course was the fact that his own eyes had changed color.

Where once they had been a boring brown, they were now blazing yellow ringed with red.

******

By the time that Brian managed to get them both back to Max's apartment and inside, the door safely locked and bolted behind them, the sun was beginning to peek over the edge of the sky, burning away the darkness with a line of orange pink light. His shoulders ached and the webbing in his back burned. Half way into the garage, he nearly collapsed under Max's weight and with a snarl of determination he fell to his knees and forced himself to stand back up. Max tried to squirm and get free to try to walk on his own but Brian refused to let him, instead carrying him laboriously up the stairs.

Crashing through the kitchen, he knocked a stool over and it clattered loudly across the floor and finally, he lumbered into the bathroom and finally, he collapsed under Max's weight. Unable to hold him any longer, he set him down as gently as he could, propping him up against the bathtub. Brian snapped on the light and moaned. Max looked far worse than he thought at first. Max stirred and he tried to open his eyes but couldn't. Brian told him to be quiet and sit still as Brian ripped off Max's bloodied pants and shredded shoes. Tearing off what little remained of Max's underwear, Brian lifted his friend up and with a grunt, eased him down into the bathtub itself, nearly slipping on the blood pool that had formed under Max's limp body.

Brian had not seen so much blood in such a very long time. He had, of course, seen car accidents and injuries at work, but to see someone you cared for, weak and reduced to wreckage was something different. Two of Max's finger's were broken, sticking out at odd angles. His left ear was torn badly, his left eye swollen nearly shut. Vicious slashes cut left and right streaks up and down his chest and stomach, revealing wet red flesh beneath. His tail also stuck out at an odd angle, near the base where it connected into his spine. One of his teeth was broken.

Brian saw that Max's body was desperately trying to mend itself. Even as he watched, the flesh was knitting itself together and the blood flow was slowing but it wasn't enough, he had to try to do something, to help Max heal. He wasn't even sure a shifter could take so much damage and live. The risk of infection was high, he thought, given the filthy state of that warehouse.

"Hang on, Max....gotta get you cleaned up..." Brian choked out, surprised at how much his own voice was shaking. He felt himself shaking and knew then it wasn't just his voice. He was running on adrenaline. Reach up, Brian spun the hot water handle and a cascade of warm water rained down, and in moments, Max's thick gray fur was drenched. Grabbing a washcloth, Brian did his best to gently clean out the wounds, gingerly but quickly moving, trying to mask the trembling in his hands.

The water turned copper red in moments and soon the entire tub ran with blood. Brian tried to wake Max up, talking to him, shaking his shoulder, anything. If he had a concussion he shouldn't be sleeping. He may never wake up.

"Max...come on...wake up...please..."

Brian ran the warm cloth over Max's broken face, gently dabbing away the blood from under his split eyelid. As he did, Max's blue eyes slid open, briefly and they looked at Brian with the most curious expression before seeming to accept his work and closing again. Brian watched as Max's ear knitted together and sealed off the wound but his breathing wasn't getting any better. In fact, it was getting raspier. The time between breaths was becoming more and more spaced apart.

Brian realized that even though the minor wounds on Max's body were healing, Max, on the whole, was fading away. Grabbing his wrist, Brian felt Max's heart begin to slow. The damage was too much. It was burning out his immune system.

"No, no no no....." Brain cried, shaking Max harder, desperately trying to get him to wake up. Max's crumpled body simply slid lower into the tub. Brian had no idea what to do. Totally at a loss, a thought struck him.

He knew that when Max had bitten him, it had caused him to heal very quickly. He wondered if the same action would work on someone who was already a shifter.

"I'm sorry, Max."

Brian desperately sank his fangs into Max's forearm.

Max's eyes shot open and he groaned low in this throat, unable to speak and for a moment, his body went rigid before he collapsed again. Brian withdrew, spitting out the blood in his mouth, the coppery taste almost nauseating him. He looked at Max again and this time felt relief begin to flood into him.

Whatever the process was, however it worked, Brian thought, it was working. Max's wounds began to seal up, melting away without so much as a scar. His teeth repaired themselves. In moments, there wasn't a wound left and Max simply lay sleeping in the tub, soaked and drenched in the bloody remains of the night, his breathing deep and regular, his pulse strongly threading.

Doing the only thing he could, Brian washed Max off, cleaning his fur as best as he could manage and half way through it, Max woke up and looked at Brian.

"What...are you doin..." he asked, his voice weak.

"Max..." Brian said, relieved to see his friend up and talking again. He shook his head. "I'll tell you later. Can you stand up...gotta get you into bed...."

Max nodded and groaned as he tried to stand and failed. Brian reached out to try to put an arm up under Max's shoulder to boost him and Max tried to shove him away but Brian pushed past it.

"Stop it. Let me help you goddamn it. You don't always have to be so stubborn."

With a growl, Max gave in and Brian managed to get Max onto his feet. Stumbling, he managed to walk Max into the bedroom area of the apartment and gently sat him down. Moments later, Max was unconscious, sleeping deeply on his back, his body mending, his dreams empty. Brian draped a sheet and blanket over him and made sure he was as comfortable as he could. Crossing back over to the sofa, Brian looked out at the rising morning sun and crashed down onto the couch, land heavily, not even bothering to clean himself up, too tired to move or think about it. Images flashed through his mind of the fight at the warehouse and after a while, he realized he didn't know how he had beaten those men only that they were beaten and that he and Max were alive.

There were disturbing visions in his head. Visions of a monstrous shadow wolf with white eyes, black claws and teeth flashing, blood spraying and screams but none of it felt real to him. It felt disconnected. That feeling of being disconnected felt so heavy that Brian's eyes closed and he too passed out into a dreamless sleep.

"Hey..."

A quiet gruff voice.

A gentle prodding on his shoulder became more insistent and finally much harder until Brian woke up, his eyes thick with sleep. He blinked, sitting up, the mid afternoon sun blinding him for a moment to the silhouetted figure that stood over him. Focusing his eyes, Brian saw that it was Max. He stood before him, dressed at least in a pair of black and red plaid pajama bottoms, his tail hanging behind him. Its tip, Brian noticed was moving side to side expectantly, gently. The thick gray fur on Max's powerful chest was clean without the slightest hint of blood and the only thing remaining of last night's battle were in fact, some very small scars that themselves were fading away. He had showered again, Brian could tell, based on the sharp clean scent of Wolfthorn rolling off of him.

"Max...you're alive..." Brian said relieved as he sat up and fell back onto the sofa, rubbing his head. It throbbed and ached in a way that was begging for Aleve...hell, anything.

"Yeah. I am. " Max replied, coming around and sitting down next to Brian thoughtfully. "Thanks to you."

Brian scoffed. "What were you doing out there....why did you go..."

For a moment, Max wouldn't look at him and finally, he did, his blue eyes looking deeply into Brian's green orbs.

"Raven asked me. She wanted me to help her track down where that drug was coming from....its the same one that was in your druggie in the ER. People have been dying from it and no one can figure out where its coming from or what it is. Raven did. She found out its some kind of hyper-drug...she just wanted me to find the source so she could put an end to it before any more people die."

Brian shook his head. "You could have told me. I would have came with you. Helped you. Why didn't you?"

Max frowned, his face darkening. "I'm not used to having anyone else here, Brian. I've spent my entire life on the streets. I can hold my own. I didn't need a babysitter."

Waving that off, Brian turned to him angrily.

"Max, its not about babysitting you. You could have used back up--"

"Back up?" Max asked stunned. "You're a security guard, Brian. The real world doesn't play nice with passive restraints, man. I know how to fight."

"That's why you were laying in the bathtub dying last night, then?" Brian snapped at him, his relief at Max's survival quickly turning into anger over his friend's brash stupidity.

"Why didn't Raven tell us all? Why did she hide it especially since it has something to do with me?" Brian asked and realized immediately why she hadn't told anyone but Max.

"Its because she didn't trust me not to go out there and sent you instead because you're the vigilante."

Brian saw Max's ears fall and felt a pang of guilt and tried to dial it back a bit. Max however dug deeper.

"Brian...this is my life. This is how I've lived for so many years I've lost count. I go out there every night. I get beat up. I heal. I do it again. I've kept the whole lower east side safe as I can because no one else gives a shit about the people who live here. Its my punishment."

"Punishment? For what? Your parents, Max?"

Max said nothing and had turned away from Brian, looking out the window at the bustling afternoon city.

"You can't beat yourself up over something you cannot help or change. You nearly died--"

"But I didn't!" Max finally snapped back, standing up, towering over Brian, his voice raised and directed at Brian for the first time in two weeks.

Brain gave it right back to him, meeting him toe to toe.

"You did. If I hadn't followed you, you'd be dead and we'd have no idea that Rakinos was involved in this. I saw him leaving the docks just before I came in. He was in Draco's house. He 's too close to us all and you walked right into it without saying a word!" Brian snarled.

"BRIAN! ENOUGH! I do this every night. This is who I am. This is all there is to me. I can't separate it from me anymore than you can about your dad! You want me, you have to accept all of me or none. I can't pick myself apart." Max roared, his blue eyes vivid, his chest heaving.

Max's words caught Brian completely off guard and the instant silence in their wake left oceans of distance between the two of them until Brian crossed that distance and resolved it with a simple question.

"What did you say..."

Max growled in frustration. "You're different okay?! You've gotten past my fucking walls in ways no one else ever could. I don't know how and I can't tell you in words. It just is. You've got me somewhere I didn't know I had anymore, things I didn't know I could feel."

"Why didn't you say something..." Brian asked, the full impact of Max's revelation hitting him in the stomach like a tractor trailer. There was no mistaking the words coming out of Max's mouth. There was no mistaking the body language.

"Because," Max said, collapsing heavily onto the sofa, his heavy body thumping hard on it. When he spoke next his voice was broken and quiet. "Because I don't know how."

Sitting in stunned silence, Brian took up the space next to Max on the couch and this time, there was no distance between them. Their arms touched and Brian could feel Max's radiant body heat and the silky glaze of his fur coat.

"And I was afraid."

"You? Afraid? Of what?" Brian asked as Max lowered his eyes and refused to look at Brian, focusing on a spot instead on the floor.

"Of you saying no. I've got nothing to offer anyone. You're the first person I've ever felt this way toward. I never realized it until last week when you were gone and all I could think about was you."

Brian reached out with his black furred palm and took Max's head in his hands, gently below his jaw line and lifted, meeting Max's blue eyes which to Brian's shock, were moist.

When Brian spoke, his voice trembled as mini earth quakes ran through his body.

"I told you on that roof top last week that I wasn't going anywhere. That I would always have your back. I meant it."

Moving closer Brian kicked away the last of his reservation, the last of his apprehension and doubt and holding Max's head gently in his hands, he closed the distance between them with a deep kiss.

Instantly the sun exploded between them, waves of hot and cold racked his body and Brian felt gravity lose its grip. He felt Max simply sit there stunned until a moment later, Max returned the kiss, his tongue moving gently, meeting, dancing over each other. Sparks and lightning flew as thunder exploded in Brian's ears and Brian realized he loved how Max tasted, like fresh clean water from the deepest purest spring. He drank in that taste and went for more and when he finally pulled back, he and Max sat facing each other, inches apart, both of them breathing hard, volumes unspoken between them and now no longer needing to be spoken. Light headed Brian blinked as he looked into Max's blue eyes.

"Wow. You're good at that." He told him a tiny smile growing on the edges of his mouth, his tail wagging behind him beyond his control. He didn't care.

Max nodded, unable to speak. Instead he frowned and shook his head, turning on the couch, instead moving over to Brian, leaning into him, meeting the smaller shifter's lips to his own, instinct and drive taking over and a moment later, he lay on top of Brian, their bodies entangled, the heat cascading off of them. Tails flew, ears were down and eyes closed. With a small grunt of pleasure, Brian pulled Max onto him more so that Max was squarely straddling him.

When they broke and came up for air, Brian's eyes had taken on a glazed look as he took in Max. The man was surprisingly handsome and now he felt no shame in admitting that. No apprehension. He ran a black furred hand up Max's ridged stomach, his fingers slipping into and out of the canyons of his abdomen, coursing up through the silver gray blaze of fur there, feeling Max's scars and the hardness of Max's nipples.

He tweaked them gently and Max let out a low growl. The sound surprised Brian, seeming to enter his ears and run up and down his spine, vibrating his bones with its deep resonance, like a tiger. It rumbled and shook yet the sound itself wasn't that loud. His brain told him the answer without thinking: Ultrasonic vibrations.

For the first time, Max put a hand on Brian's body that wasn't in defense or anger and simply rested it there, on Brian's stomach, enjoying the sleekness of his fur, and the simply joy that blossomed within him at the rise and fall of Brian's breathing. Max felt his heart speed up, thumping in a way that didn't come from the thrill of a fight but rather the thrill of true existence. Hot blood rushed through his ears and he could hear his own pulse. Brian felt a pleasant shudder run up and down his side as Max came down and nestled his snout into Brian's neck, kissing and biting him there, gently yet powerfully, causing Brian to buck off the couch with a groan, both of them breathing hard. Brian heard a sound come from himself and it was alien yet familiar.

It was a low rumbling growl of pleasure, egging Max on, the same kind of rumbling ultra-sonic sound that shook the air a moment before. Max's scent was overpowering this close, so much more so than in the lobby or even the truck. Brian let it wash over him, dance in his nose and glaze the back of his throat, cascading like an avalanche that drowned him in sensation, sight and smell mixing in a way that was impossible for a human, forming an ecstatic electric senesthesia.

Pushing Max up, Brian sat up and came together with Max, moving across the room, leaving the couch behind, both of them falling onto the bed, not caring what they knocked over or what got broken. He ended up on top of Max this time, straddling him. Brian could feel how hard Max was in his pajama bottoms, and Brian felt himself throb just as much.

Kissing gently over Max's chest, his whiskers and chin fur tickling him, Brian moved lower, working his way down the hard V of Max's groin, just above the waist band of his pajama bottoms and with a final look at Max, Brian moved, sliding the pajama bottoms off and out of the way, shuffling off his own clothes in the process and for the first time, the two of them were laid bare before the other, naked, with no barriers, no walls. Brian drank in Max's body, his eyes and sense of touch, the warm fur, the hot skin beneath, the musk that was quickly filling the air that only the two of them could smell. It was turning into a churning storm threaded through with psychic lightning pulsing to the sound of their heartbeats.

Max was powerfully built, thick but lean at the same time, his body covered in layers of scars, his thick fur hiding most of them. Like Brian, Max had a blaze of silver gray in his pubic region and there, standing at full attention was Max's penis. It was fully rigid, harder than stone. Unlike Brian's which was black, Max's was a bright pink color, and like Brian, Max too was uncircumcised, the velvety sheath visible there as it pulled from back from the mushroom head of Max's cock, which glistened wetly with a single drop of clear fluid leaking from the tip.

Max was not small and was in fact nine inches or longer and had the thickness of Brian's wrist. His balls hung low as well, heavy and round, covered in that same velvety gray fur. For a moment, Max seemed to grow shy, and Brian didn't need to be told why. The scarred over nature of his body was making him uncomfortable and Brian removed any doubt in that instant by running his snout into Max's belly, moving lower, the tip of Max's cock bouncing under his chin until finally, it was poised before him like a ship's mast in a hurricane.

Without hesitation, Brian took Max inside himself, careful of his sharp teeth, sliding all the way down to the base, using the length of his new muzzle to his advantage, burying his snout in Max's fur where he caught the slightest whiff of masculine musk. It encouraged him and Brian went again as Max arched his back on the bed, growling and grunting in surprise and pleasure. It was like running and jumping off of those buildings earlier; exhilarating as gravity let go, losing its eternal hold only to grab him and slam him back down but he never hit, rather, Brian felt like he was rising again, flying through the moon-scarred obsidian night. He wrapped his long tongue around Max's shaft as he moved, gliding with hot moisture, the musky taste of Max and his own breath mixing in a hot cloud. Panting, Brian came up and moved up Max, kissing him deeply, relishing the clean slightly musky masculine taste of his body and Max returned the kiss, losing himself in the reality that this was happening and it was real. For him, there was nothing but this moment in which everything fell away, all the weight he carried on his broad shoulders. Brian felt Max's arms come around him in a deep embrace, felt the hard bulging of Max's thick biceps, pulling him down onto Max's chest as Max whimpered, not in pain but rather with the monumental release of a pain long held onto being let go and set free, unchained.

Brian felt Max's right arm come free and felt his hand hunting and Brian raised his hips, allowing Max to work his hand under him and then gasped as Max gripped his cock, squeezing it firmly, working his hand up and down, with Max using his own pre-cum as a lubricant to stroke Brian. He felt rocking sensations travel into his groin and up his stomach, causing his muscles to contract repeatedly, each wave making him groan.

Brian growled in approval, not needing words any longer, the sound vibrating the air between them, kissing Max's neck, and soon found the urge to bite him there unbearable and so he did, roughly but not hard enough to break the skin. Max bucked and held Brian tighter, nuzzling the side of Brian's face, drinking in Brian's scent, the scent of fresh earth and grass, the scent of hot searing sun-kissed life itself.

They each moved in concert with the other, motion and meaning, emotion and instinct blurring into lines that were crossed and new emotions, new feelings exploded into supernovas. As new galaxies were born, both of them felt the surge the drive increase in a percussive beating of their hearts into a single driven rhythm until finally there was no longer one or the other but rather at last, they were together. Walls fell. Barriers crashed down and a few moments later, as they climbed the peak of their mountain, both of them removed the last locked doors keeping the other out.

Brian felt Max throb in his mouth and felt Max's grip on his shoulders tighten significantly until it was almost painful. He felt and saw Max's thick powerful leg muscles go hard as stone and there it was; with a deep throaty growl, Max released, unable to hold himself back any longer. Brian immediately felt the salty yet smooth warmth flood his mouth in gush after gush, expertly swallowing it down as it came before Max was finally spent but Max was not finished with Brian yet.

"Lay down..." Max grunted softly in Brian's ear, flipping around and pushing Brian down onto the bed onto his back, moving up and around to straddle him. Brian did as he was told as Max placed his cock and Brian's together, in his gray furred hand and began to ride, moving, grind up and down, sliding the moist hard flesh between his fingers, lingering over their mushroom heads, the sensation at once almost too much and leaving Brian craving more. Brian loved the heaviness of Max's weight, the solidity.

In a few moments, Brian felt the pressure that was building in his groin hit a peak and he looked up at Max, meeting his blue eyes, knowing his ability to restrain himself was quickly abating.

"Max..."

"I know..."

A second later, the world exploded as Brian bucked on the bed, his legs going rigid as if he had been hit with an electric shock but the most pleasurable electric shock he had ever known. The waves came, cascading over him in hot rounds, running from his balls to his forehead, the fur on the back of his neck standing up as he clenched the sheets in on hand and with a hearty deep growl of his own, he finally climaxed. He felt the ropes of hot liquid blast out of him at least six times, each shot sending a new wave of contractions through Brian's sweat soaked body, drenching him and Max both and with that, Max collapsed next to him on the bed, laying on his back, panting.

Both them were exhausted as the sun set outside, and for a time, Brian was unable to move and didn't try. When he did move, he turned his head to see Max was lying with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you...are you ok?" he asked him.

Max nodded. "Yeah...that was....unexpected..."

"Bad?"

Max shook his head. "No...not at all. I'm glad."

Brian nodded. "Me too."

After a few minutes had passed, Brian got up and grabbed a towel from the bathroom cabinet, and came back. He cleaned off as best as he could and Max didn't resist when Brian did the same to him, running a towel under his balls and around the base of his penis. Instead he actually laughed a bit. The same small chuckle.

"That tickled." "Sorry." Brian said, grinning.

At last the sun had went down and Brian lay next to Max on Max's bed, both of them stripped bare, Max laying on his side, facing Brian, looking thoughtful and far way. Brian noticed and looked up at him, his green eyes gleaming in the soft light.

"What's on your mind, Max?"

Max shrugged and after a moment, found the words. "What now? Where do we go from here?"

Brian considered. "You mean with the Raven situation with Rakinos and the drug?"

Max shook his head. "No...I mean...we'll get to that but...I meant....what about you and me...where does this go?"

Brian turned over and faced Max, lying on his side with barely an inch between them, their fur lifting with the breath of the other. Reaching up, Brian stroked Max's cheek, before cupping his chin in his hand, the short claws on the end of his fingers scratching slightly into Max's fur there.

Max growled with pleasure and Brain thought that it had caught Max by surprise that Max had liked that. Brian filed that away for future reference.

"We take it a step at time. One day. One step. I want to be here with you the whole way. All of it." Brian said, realizing as he said it the words were true. His old life was gone and there, in that quiet night with Max lying next to him, he didn't care. He felt content on a level he couldn't explain. But Max was the one thing he was sure of. He had been sure of it for longer than he had let himself feel.

Max only nodded and closed his eyes, exhaustion quickly taking him. In a few moments, he was snoring softly. Smiling, Brian turned around and backed up to Max, spooning gently as the moon rose. Brian felt a movement and a moment later, Max's arm was draped over him and had pulled him closer.

Brian himself wasn't long for the world and after a few moments, he too, slowly drifted into a sleep that was like slipping into a warm bath and outside, the world continued on. For him, there was no more Rakinos. No more druggies. No more stress. Just peace.

Chapter 8

"I can lift you up I can show you what you want to see,

take you where you want to be

You can be my luck,

Even if the sky is falling down,

I know we'll be safe and sound.

I can fill your cup, this world will still appreciate, even in a hurricane, you will find that we'll be safe and sound..."

• Capital Cities, " Safe and Sound."

_ _ The sun fell through the big windows in gentle rays, falling upon the bed, the intense afternoon heat from the light tempered by the polarized glass. It fell upon Brian's sleeping form, covering his shoulders and neck and the back of his head like the luminous touch of an invisible seraphim, warm and energetic. The light beams formed a spotlight as dust motes swam in them like plankton, warming his bare back, heating up the carbon black fur there, making his skin tingle as he began to stir slowly stretching. His ankles popped gloriously and he went from a partial stretch into a full on lazy cat stretch, arms reaching up, fingers splayed, toes wide, his claws popping out just slightly, eyes tightly closed, tail stiff for a moment.

The stretch over, he collapsed back into himself and his hands fell onto the empty side of the bed.

_ _ His fingers and then his hands moved, seeking and finding nothing but warm sheets and blank space.

_ _With a grunt, he slowly opened his sleepy eyes, the light dancing in his green irises. Washing away the sleep with a few blinks, Brian looked at where Max had been most of the night.

_ _He was gone.

_ No..._he thought, panic beginning to rise and disappointment along with it.

_ _ For a moment, he felt his heart speed up and he fully woke up, his brain finally engaging on all gears and he settled down just as fast. He could hear Max moving around and with a sniff of the air, found that Max was indeed in the house and that Max wasn't the only thing he smelled.

_ _ A warm relief flooded through him, warmer than the sun.

_ _He smelled crispy greasy meats, spiced with pepper and warm seasonings. He could practically taste it dancing on the air in tiny excited bubbles. He felt his ears perk up towards where he knew the kitchen was and instantly the sound of cooking hit him. The sizzling of bacon and sausage, ham and the buttery cheesy scent of eggs; the gentle but flurried scraping of a spatula and the hiss of a gas powered stove were like music moving in a symphony he hadn't heard in a very long time. It was a music that tugged at him behind his breast bone and a moment later, he felt and heard his stomach rumble madly.

_ _Shortly after the relief hit him, he slid his eyes towards the foot of the bed and into the open kitchen.

Max was in there, shirtless and in his plaid pajama bottoms, hustling around, stirring and whisking madly, trying his obvious best to be quiet and efficient at the same time and failing miserably. His ears were laid back against his head but Brian could tell it was in concentration as if he hadn't cooked in a long time. Based on the way his eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue was sticking out of the side of his muzzle, just a little bit, that was very likely the case, Brian thought, a tiny smile tugging at his face.

_ _As Brian watched him, he felt a pang of guilt for assuming that Max had ran away, wondering if that made him instead of Max the one who had something to be ashamed of. Shaking his head he felt a yawn come and tried to stifle it, wanting to simply watch Max in this moment he was having without walls, or barriers, when he thought no one was watching, to see the real man behind the pain, the real wolf behind the scars.

_ _Max turned to get something off of the bar behind him and had to whirl back around as a bit of black smoke began to pour up from an unseen pan and he cursed under his breath, nearly sliding on the hard wood floor. Brian wondered if he had socks on.

_ _The yawn was back and this time he couldn't swallow it down or hold it in and he let it out, his long jaws opening wide, his lips pulling back involuntarily exposing his long fangs and sharp teeth, every bit like a yawning German shepherd. The yawn passed and Brian closed his mouth, smacking his lips together carefully. His mouth felt dry as bone.

_ _ At the sound, Max's ears perked up and he looked over at the bedroom area.

_ _"Oh! Jesus! Um. Hi. You're awake." He stammered as he was forced to quickly return his attention to his cooking.

_ _ "Well hey there..." Brian said, sitting up in the bed, running a hand through the fur on his head. It didn't help. It was currently sticking up like a goddamn cowlick, he thought and grimaced. Sliding his feet out of the bed, he stood, naked in the sun, drinking in its warmth, stretching his back one final time, his tail wagging on its own as it seemed to wake up. He saw Max sneak a glance out of the corner of his eye and so, he lingered a bit, taking his time.

After a moment he felt foolish and quickly bent over, rooting around in the discarded clothes for something to wear. He found his trunks and quickly pulled them on, the fabric snugly hugging his body, holding everything in place. Crossing the room, Brian dug around in his duffle bag and found a clean shirt, a navy blue blue and hastily pulled on. He frowned as he realized it barely came to his belly button anymore. Sighing, he knew at some point he would have to go out and shop for clothes but now was not the time. Thankfully, Max didn't seem to mind that Brian was still basically living in the clothes he had let him borrow.

_ _Pulling his shirt down as far as he could, Brian moved into the kitchen and bar area, his thickly padded feet moving slightly on the warm wood floor. He enjoyed the smooth gel like feeling the polish on the floor boards transferred to the pads on the bottom of his toes. It felt like the world's smallest air conditioner.

_ _ Sauntering his way sleepily around the bar, Brian stepped into the kitchen and for the first time saw that wasn't as big as he has previously thought. It was formed out of a rough oblong rectangle with a small set of counters and the sink connected by a curve into the stove, dishwasher and trash compactor. Over head the glass cabinets he noticed weren't as new as the rest of the kitchen and were in fact hand restored. The twin lights hanging from the ceiling Brian realized were actually bulbs inside of old Mason jars.

_ _ It gave the whole kitchen a strange feeling, mixed between the modern appliances, the older counter tops and the home made light shades. It spoke volumes about the owner of the home, he thought, watching Max's powerful back as he moved quickly to finish the food. Apparently, Max was more creative and handy than he let on and it wasn't just with cars.

_ _"How long have you been up?" Brian asked as he came up beside Max, the scent of peppered sausage and smoky bacon, even burned a bit, making his stomach curl in expectation.

_ _ Totally focused on his work, Max glanced up at Brian with one blue eye quickly.

_ _"A bit. Few hours really. I didn't sleep good. Got up, showered and fucked around with that stupid bike downstairs. Goddamn throttle body casing is stuck in it."

_ _Brian nodded pretending to know what he was talking about.

_ _"Throttle body...sounds bad."

_ _Max glanced at him again as he killed the gas and shut off the stove. Seeing his ignorance, he actually smiled a bit.

_ _ "Think of it as the gas pedal. Part of the intake system, though it doesn't actually control the flow of fuel but air so the fuel can combust."

_ _"So the bike is choking essentially?" Brian attempted, moving slightly out of the way so Max could pull the searing skillet over to the sink counter. Max nodded as he moved, his tail flicking from side to side.

_ _"Pretty much. Damn thing is stuck at twenty miles an hour. Going to have to order a new one. The upside is this guy pays well so I don't mind too much. Go sit at the bar and I'll bring you plate."

_ _Brian hedged. "Is there anything I can help with?"

_ _ Max smiled and shook his shaggy grey head. "Nah. Sit. I haven't done this in a while and it feels good to good to do it."

_ _With a grin, Brian made his way out of the kitchen around the bar, planting his furry butt onto a bar stool, his tail dangling behind him, inches above the floor. A moment later, with a clink of porcelain and a clang of metal silverware, he appeared in front of Brian, and plopped down twin heaping plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, seared moist ham and thick peppered sausage.

_ _"Wow. You put in a lot of work. Damn." Brian said, stunned by the plethora before him.

_ _"Well," Max said, pouring them both a glass of orange juice into thick tumblers, the glass frosting over from the chill. He set the pitcher aside with a soft thunk.

_ _"I don't normally cook like this. I've spent so long living on take out and delivery that when I do cook it feels like a major event. I just felt the urge this morning," he finished. Brian laughed and jerked his head towards the huge windows in the living room, his ears flopping gently.

_ _"Afternoon. Its gotta be after one by this point." He said gently, his face grinning as he bit down into a sausage patty. Max nodded, acknowledging the truth with a shrug.

_ _ A few minutes passed as they both ate in silence and Brian noticed that Max never looked up from his plate. Brian did think that Max had done a bang up job as the meats were juicy with just a hint of char on them, the eggs were smooth and rich and seasoned perfectly but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up with Max this morning. After trying to let it come on its own, Brian realized he was going to have to push to get it and how far he would have to push made him cautious as he started.

"You said you didn't sleep good last night. You looked pretty knocked out after...well...you know." He started and watched as Max stopped stuffing his face, swallowed and looked up at Brian, his blue eyes thinking. Brian could see the wheels in his mind turning with warp speed.

_ _"For a bit I did but I had dreams. Always do. Every night. The same ones."

_ _ "Of what?" Brian asked gently, taking a swig of the orange juice. It exploded on his tongue like a citrus iceberg. It felt and tasted sweet and bubbly. He noted the lack of pulp. That was one thing he was glad to discover he and Max shared in common. He hoped there were more.

_ _Max hesitated but he did answer, as he pushed his food around on the plate with his fork.

_ _"Of that night. The fire. My folks. The winter wind. Its always so sharp...it sounds like screams."

_ _Brian felt the weight in that admission and the unspoken and deep trust it had taken for it to come out in the first place. Max would have told him to piss of just two weeks ago.

_ _ "Every night they come and every night I usually end up going out. You know. Come back in the morning bloodied up and pass out. Rinse repeat. Its been all I've done for so long that when I woke up this afternoon and you were here and I was here...It was surreal." He continued thoughtfully.

_ _ "You didn't go out at all?"

_ _"Nah...I stayed in. I blame you." He said, looking up, his blue eyes holding the hint of a smile. Something about that smile felt off and Brian tried to figure out what it was but he couldn't. Max was good at hiding his feelings when he wanted to and it was so far the only frustrating thing about him that Brian could really find.

_ _ Brian decided to not push any further for now, deciding it was best to go slowly. Max was opening up to him more than ever relatively and he didn't want him to shut down again.

"I didn't know you could cook. This is actually really good."

_ _"Thanks, man. Sorry about the crispy parts." Max replied sheepishly. Brian took a huge bite out of a seared ham slice, his sharp teeth shredding it into ribbons. He chewed loudly on purpose and swallowed with gusto.

_ _ "Not a problem. I like it like that. Grilling out is one of my favorite things to do."

_ _ "They usually do a cookout at Forest Glen on July fourth. Sometimes I go. Maybe we could go in a few weeks." Max suggested, his voice quietly hopeful.

_ _ "I'd like that." Brian replied, for some reason imagining the extremely awkward and clumsy Jackson on the grill, fighting like mad to keep it from exploding and feeling that he had made the right decision not to dig deeper. "I also noticed," he added, finishing off his eggs, "That you restored those cabinets and those lamp shades look handmade. Your work, too?"

_ _Max actually coughed for a moment and cleared his throat, swallowing nearly half the tumbler of juice in the process. He was embarrassed and it struck Brian as cute.

_ _ " Well, yeah. I sorta had to. This place wasn't exactly the best. I fixed it up. Most of what you see I did over time. Smashed my goddamn fingers more than I can count." He told Brian, finishing off the rest of his bacon with a few light snaps.

_ _"You seem embarrassed about it."

_ _"No one's ever noticed."

_ _"Hey, you have a talent. You should be proud of it. I hate when people read my writing even though I have to let them read it otherwise it would never be finished. Tend to be my own worst critic." Brian told him cleaning his plate like a pro.

_ _ "I don't read much but I wouldn't mind reading some of your stuff sometime...if its okay." Max said sheepishly. Brian chuckled, his face burning hot.

_ _"Um, sure. I'm not responsible for your eyeballs bleeding but sure."

_ _ Max gave a small huff of humor. Brian wondered if he would ever actually laugh and made it a point to remember it when it finally did happen.

_ _ "I do have two questions for you though," Max began pushing his plate away, looking over at Brian at his side.

_ _"Shoot."

_ _"One: Did you bite me the other night?"

Brian started to ask if he meant what he thought he meant and Max gently cut him off.

_ "Not during sex. When you had me in the tub and I was a bloody mess." Max corrected him._

_ _Brain felt his ears flatten and a hot wave of guilt rushed over him.

_ _"Yeah. I didn't know what else to try and it worked on me when you did it. I didn't know if it would have worked on you because well...you know. It did. You started healing super quickly. Even some of your older scars went away by the time I had tucked you in."

_ _Max nodded thoughtfully. "That's not normal. There should have been no affect at all. Raven's going to love that little nugget. Thanks, though. I mean it."

_ _ Brian scowled though not at Max. "She and I need to have a talk about some things before she gets anything else from me."

_ _Sighing, Max agreed. "Yeah. I guess she does. For what its worth, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have. It was about things that affected you. I'll try my best to be better at that in the future. I'm not used to not being alone."

_ _Brian's scowl softened and his reply was hopeful without meaning to sound it.

_ _ "Future? You sound like you see something..."

_ _Max looked over at him with a half hearted glare but it wasn't malice but gentle humor and honestly that Brian saw in the expression.

_ _ "Don't get ahead of yourself there, pup. Maybe. Just maybe." He told Brian.

_ _"Pup?" Brian shot back a bemused expression crossing his face at the term.

_ _"Did I say that?" Max acted innocently as he got up and began moving his plates to the kitchen sink.

_ _Brian followed suit. "You did."

_ _ "Hmm. Maybe I did." Max said with the tinniest of grins. He and Brian made quick work of the dishes and food mess and standing back, the counters gleaming proud of themselves, they stood side by side, arms crossed, surveying their work like master artisans.

_ _ "You know you're not that much older than I am, right?"

_ _ "Old enough. Second question, when are you going to call your mom?"

_ _ That one had came out of left field and Brian felt for a moment that his brain just went into the driest tiniest most pitiful explosion as it collapsed from the monumental fuckery of an oh-shit moment that just slammed into its place. He had forgotten in all the chaos entirely that he had not once called her since the night at the hospital. She never pushed him but two weeks without a call or text was odd for him. He had originally had so many questions for her especially about the family that could illuminate his present...condition. Plus, he felt a twinge of guilt.

_ _ "Hmm. You think I should?" he asked Max. Max promptly goosed him with an elbow in the ribs for his question. He replied as Brian rubbed his ribs from the elbow poke.

_ _ "Yes. I do. Don't ever take your mom for granted. I know we've been busy and its been rough but, you only have one and when she's gone... I'd kill to be able to speak to mine one more time. We can go see her if you need to. I don't mind. Might help ease her shock if you aren't alone, plus you've got some big changes to tell her about." Max finished, looking pointedly at Brian's ears tail and muzzle.

_ _ "Fair enough. I'll give her a call in a bit. See what's what. We should probably keep the whole vigilante fights drug business off the table though." Brian said, moving into the living room. He began riffling through his duffle bag for fresh clothes and finding some of Max's loaned ones, he tugged them out and headed towards the bathroom.

_ _ "Hey you cleaned up the blood!" Brian called from the bathroom, his voice hampered by the walls.

_ _ "That's one thing I'm good at."

_ _Brian's whispered comment rode the air like sprites. "Among many others."

_ _"What?" Max called back as he headed towards the couch, his stomach pleasantly full and feeling relatively relaxed for a change.

_ _"NOTHING!" Brian called back suddenly loud and a few moments later, the door closed and Max heard the rushing of water.

Settling back onto the couch, Max looked around at the apartment and saw how messy it was and decided he didn't care. The sun felt great on his gray fur, and with good food and he had to admit, good company, life wasn't bad today. It was different, that was for sure. He wasn't used to being around others as much especially around someone with whom a connection had formed like the one he and Brian seemed to share. Whether or not that was due to some kind of weird genetic intermingling due to him turning Brian in the first place or something more, Max didn't know but he suspected it was something more and not the latter.

_ _He normally by this point was still asleep, bloodied from fights on the street, smelling like gun powder and normally several new smashed up bullets had been pulled out and filled the ashtray on the coffee table. Looking at the ashtray on the coffee table, he studied the rounds in it. Each one was a melted bent slug stained maroon. There were different calibers, mostly handgun size rounds. Each one had been a blistering white -hot shock of molten agony and each one, he thought, he deserved for letting his family die or rather, not dying with them that cold winter night.

_ _Considering the bullets made him consider the truth of that thought he had just had, and he toyed with the idea of maybe being wrong. That perhaps there was nothing he could have done but he refused to let it continue. That was unknown territory and any unknown territory made him edgy. Being around Brian the last two weeks had upset and upended his entire life. The night before was the first time he had hit the streets in that time span. He had spent most of the time in that span of two weeks away from Brian at home or in the garage and had found truly his mind was occupied by a singular loop of thought that simply would not go away and it wore Brian's face like a mask.

And so, he had tried to suppress it, ignore it, shut it down but it came back late at night before the dreams hit, and finally, that argument with Brian had brought it out and once he had said it, he realized he could not "un-say" it. Did he really want to unsay it? What was so bad about this afternoon, at having a life for a moment, at the prospect of a future?

_ _Still, something felt wrong and he couldn't pin it down and instead kept coming back to the thought he had before. He was blaming himself for not dying with his family that night and with an internal shock, he realized that thought was a new one. Any time he had allowed himself to think about the past, any time he had been drunk off his ass at the bar, being beat up by a thug or even the rare times he had held a gun in his hands, looking down the barrel's black enticing eye, wondering if he would be better of fixing that situation, smelling the gun oil, it was in those moments, he always blamed himself for not saving them but now...that new perspective had caused him considerable pause.

_ _Was he really blaming himself for being alive? Survivor's guilt? He frowned as he absently scratched his stomach fur, not even aware his hand was doing it.

_ _Is that why this situation with Brian felt strange? He thought probably, yes. One on hand, if he was honest with himself, in the quiet of his mind where no one could hear, he desperately wanted things to work between himself and Brian. There had been something about the kid (shouldn't call him that. He's not a kid, he chided himself) that had been different from the start and ever since that first meeting, their lives had been intertwined so intimately that not having him around felt strange. To lose him would be a wound that he didn't think would stop bleeding and the idea scared him.

_ _On the other hand, the oldest part of his psyche was railing against the idea. He didn't deserve to be happy, didn't serve anything but the nightly penance he paid for his crime, his sin of being a survivor. It was what drove him daily, allowed him to make the hard decisions he needed to, gave him the strength of will he needed out on the streets. What would I be without that? Max thought and that scared him too, and the hand on his stomach had stopped scratching and had simply stopped moving, buried in the thick fur on the ridges of his stomach.

_ _He had gotten up this morning in part because of the dreams but also because he felt restless in a way he couldn't identity. Waking up next to Brian had been wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Here he was, being given what a part of him had always wanted and balking at it. It made no sense at all and Max knew it perfectly well but he was unable to change the way he felt regardless. Not all of the scars he carried were physical and some of them ran very deep. Could he stand himself for dragging Brian into his world and chaining him down to the wreck that was himself? Was that fair?

_ _Over the past two decades, Max had never once been given the true prospect of healing and having a real life any thought and now it was on his door step, being handed to him. All he had to do was reach out and take it and bring it into himself and for some reason, that idea made him tremble.

_ _He genuinely enjoyed making breakfast for them this morning, he thought. It was a real moment, and it felt great, like a balm on a sunburn. But was that balm addictive like a drug and if it was, was that a bad thing? Was that drug just covering up the underlying problem or was it really changing it?

_ _The banter with Brian felt natural. It felt good. The apartment seemed to be more alive when he was here, the ghosts were quiet.

_ _Sighing, Max flicked his tail hard, unaware that he was doing it and decided that for now, he would do what Brian said. Take it slowly. Try to see where this new path might lead, to see if any of the scars started to fade and if any of the wounds would try to close. For now, he would take the drug. It felt good. It felt real and he needed real and wanted real and the idea that he was locking Brian down with him and all of his demons was momentarily quieted as Brian himself came out of the bathroom, dressed in that long sleeve brown shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, clean white shirt underneath and jeans that fit reasonably well. The smell of deodorant and soap washed over the room and Brian's carbon black fur gleamed in the light and the cowlick on his head was gone, his green eyes shining.

_ _Max felt something in his stomach wiggle like a fish.

_ _Brian came over and plopped down next to Max after digging his phone out of his bag.

_ _"You okay? You look about a million miles away." Brian told him, adjusting himself, pulling at the tight jeans fabric. Max shrugged, his blue eyes moist a bit as he blinked them back to normal.

_ _"Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking I guess. Gonna call your mom?" he replied.

_ _"I reckon. I can't keep putting it off." Brian sighed, turning his phone on and pulling up the dialer.

_ _Max nodded. "I guess I'll give you some privacy. Need to head down and work on that bike anyway. Lemme know when you want to head her way. Carsonville isn't far. You good?"

_ _ Brian nodded.

_ _"Cool then. Holler at me when you're done." Max said, slapping a heavy powerful but gentle palm on Brian's thigh, reassuring him, standing to his feet.

_ _Brian watched him leave, and frowned. Something about Max felt off, like he was wounded in a way that couldn't be seen and he was fighting with something. Brian knew that he had an astounding amount of emotional trauma and he wondered briefly if it was wise to pursue this course with him, not because he was afraid of trauma but because he was afraid, in part, that when time came, Max wouldn't let him in enough to help carry it.

_ _Brian did feel a tiny leap like a minnow in his chest as he watched Max's behind move in the loose pajama bottoms and felt his eyes travel up his broad back and smiled darkly.

_ _Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus, to actually dial the numbers and call his mom. Mentally he was doing hoops preparing himself, psyching himself up as he brought the phone to his ears and the distinct electric chime of a ringing line flooded his senses. There were a million questions, a million ways the call could go. He could spill his guts or freeze up entirely. The minnow turned into butterflies and for a good six seconds, the longest six seconds of Brian's life, he felt like the phone would ring forever until finally, with a click, the line went live and for the first time in two weeks, he heard his mom's gentle light voice.

_ _"Hello?"

_ _For that small eternity, Brian felt his throat lock up and then when it finally let go, he hoped his voice hadn't changed much as his heart began to patter harder and the blood began to rush in his ears.

_ _"Hi, mom...its me."

There was a moment of surprise in her voice that made Brian wince guiltily. He swallowed it down and tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

_ _ "Brian? Well hey honey. Its been a bit."

_ _ "Yeah. I'm sorry about that. Lot of crazy stuff's been going on and I've been so caught up lately I've," he stopped as he found his mind wasn't providing him auto-words anymore. The truth instead dangled temptingly in front of him, all of it and it caused him to pause, his jaws locked, tongue refusing to make words. This seemed to go on for an hour but in reality, it was merely a second, maybe two.

_ _ "Brian?"

_ _ "Sorry. I've lost touch with what's important these last few weeks. What's going on up on your end?" Brian shuffled, switching the subject quickly before it could begin. Why was he so nervous? He grew angry at himself and felt guilt sink in a bit deeper, like a twenty-ton weight tossed into a mud pit. Ever second it sunk inexorably deeper. His mom, to her credit, didn't give him hell, didn't fuss at him. She never did. She always tried to understand, even when she couldn't.

_ _"Oh not much, hun. Works been a little crazy. Crazy tickets, you know. Had a few bans I needed to lay but nothing too out of the ordinary."

_ _ He smiled. His mother was one of the only fifty-six year old game masters he knew of. She got to work from home and that made it easier on her since in later years she had gotten a bit more nervous about driving, and she would never explain why exactly. She worked for Blizzard, the company behind massively popular games like World of Warcraft and Overwatch. Her job specifically was to handle incoming tickets from players, handle any disputes and track down cheaters. She was surprisingly technically savvy and in some ways, she excelled Brian in that regard. It made it easy for them to communicate most of the time since they spoke the same generational language.

She did have an account of her own that was for personal use and played often with a few friends from all over the country in her own guild. Brian used to be a part of that guild before his bigger computer went on the fritz and killed out. It now sat in a heap in the back of his closet at his apartment, buried under god knows what. Her position as a work at home moderator was one of a few thousand across the country with Blizzard attempting a new hiring and work model. She was lucky and found the opening a few years ago and took it. So far, it had been a god send for her, both for income and keeping her occupied since Brian himself was no longer there, something he did worry about.

_ _ "Those crazy hackers and bots, huh?" he said, a smile forming on his mouth and it only felt half fake.

_ _ "They never learn. They never understand that we can see them in real time. Had a really good raid the other night for our final Antorus push and we managed to get the achievement we were working on. I think we are through for now though, until August."

_ _ That idea made Brian flinch internally. The guild kept his mom company, (something I should be doing) and if it was going into a quiet period, especially with all that was going on with him on his end, he worried he might be out of touch more than usual.

_ _ "What happens in August?" he asked absently, his green eyes far away from Max's living room. Downstairs, through the floor boards and masonry, he heard the distant sounds of mechanical work, the clanging of tools, the ratcheting of wrenches, the scrape of metal on concrete and occasionally, he smiled, the growled curses of a very frustrated werewolf mechanic.

_ _ "New expansion comes out. Honey you've got to get your computer fixed. You'd love this new stuff!"

_ _ Brian felt a tug behind his breastbone. He used to play all the time with his mom and her friends when he wasn't working or at the gym. There were some fun memories they had all made and right now, the ghost of them from years past bubbled up as tiny echoes that he could almost hear. The sounds of abilities being fired off as his druid was kiting around the edge of the battlefield, casting destructive beams of white light or throwing fireballs. The cheers of the guild over voice chat as a particularly hard boss on heroic difficulty bit the dust or the crazy improv and insanity that just seemed to surface with any group of people that were highly caffeinated or in some cases, intoxicated. The ghost of laughter floated through his mind and he smiled for real this time.

_ _ "Maybe I will, but hey, um, can we talk real for a moment?"

_ _ The sudden change in tone made the air in the room feel tense even though his mom was more than an hour away, he could still feel the change on her end as well.

_ _ "Sure honey. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

_ _ Brian hesitated. What to tell her? Or rather, how much, he corrected himself. He decided he would give her a fraction of the truth now and when they inevitably met in person, he would have no choice but to give her everything.

_ _ "Well," he said swallowing, looking out the afternoon window. His phone buzzed and he pulled the handset away from his face and looked at the display.

_ Raven._ She was calling him and for a moment that puzzled him. Then he realized why. Max wasn't answering her calls either, he thought. He confirmed this a moment later when he looked over onto the coffee table and saw Max's phone in its orange and black case with four missed calls lighting up the screen. Max had turned his phone on silent.

_ _ With a frown, he stabbed the REJECT button and went back to his mom.

_ _ "Sorry. Telemarketer tried to call. But....I was saying that some stuff has happened to me lately and its some pretty major stuff. I had to take some time off work. I don't know if I can tell it to you over the phone because," he paused and looked at his paw-like feet, his claws, and ran his tongue over his large fangs. "Because it's a lot."

_ _ "Well why don't you come down and see me. Stay the night. Tell me in person. I'm off yesterday and today so there's nothing really going on especially since the raid nights are shutting down for a while."

_ _ Her idea, as usual, leaped past his defenses and stabbed right at where he was the weakest and most afraid: The concept of him seeing his own mother in person and looking nothing like the son she knew.

_ _ "Well...um..."

_ _ She interrupted him gently. "Brian, I know in the last few years, we've gotten on better since you were a kid...since your dad passed. We've reconnected like we used to and I'm sorry that it ever happened any other way. I love you son, so much. You have always been able to tell me anything, and if that means coming home and doing it in person or a thousand miles away on the phone in the middle of Egypt, you do it. I'm right here, baby. Always have been. Its up to you but I'm here and honestly, I'd love to see you hun."

_ _ Brian felt something rise up in his throat and it suddenly made his throat and jaws hurt. For some reason, the corners of his eyes were blurry and for few seconds, he sat there, those words stinging the old wounds like aloe on a sun burn. Soothing, comforting and healing.

_ _ "Yeah I know..."

_ _ "So come on down. Stay with me for a night. We've not done that since you moved away after college. I'll make us your favorite."

_ _ His stomach betrayed him and that surprised him as he smiled and laughed a little, a genuine laugh.

_ _ "Ozo spaghetti lasagna? God I've not made that in so long..."

_ _ His mom laughed. "You and your dad's favorite. Just one of my amazing creations." She put on false airs and it was, for a moment, like no time had passed between them at all and that bothered Brian. It made him realize just how much time was passing and that it slowed for no one. Well....that wasn't true anymore, he thought. It would pass for his mother.

_ _ "I think I will do that. Would it be good if I brought someone along? He's..." Brian hestitated.

"He's a good friend. Helped me out with all this that's going on and he's a good guy."

_ _ "Sure hon. That stuff always makes for plenty. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. You always had good taste in friends anyway. You have a knack for getting people."

_ _ "Ok um, how does in the next few hours sound? Have to see if he's free since he's a mechanic and he's got a customer's ticket at the moment."

_ _ "That sounds fine, Bri. That gives me time to thaw the meat out and get prepared and get things straightened up around here."

_ _ "Awesome but don't over-do it...I mean...it's just me. No need to go all out, I'm just coming home. Nothing special." He said gently.

_ _ He could hear the love in his mother's voice as she said her next words and it once again had that same aloe on sun burn feel.

_ _ "No, Brian. You're my son and you're coming home to visit me and that is something always special. Gimme a yell once you're on the road. I love you, Brian."

_ _ They said their goodbyes and as Brian clicked the phone off, he sat on the couch, feeling dazed and emotionally exhausted. He hadn't told her any of the important details and he felt like he should have, cursing himself for it. What good was it going to do to show up and just give his mom a heart attack at the sight of him.

_ _ Running his hands down his face in irritation, he stood up and paced the room, nerves jangling, surprised at the butterflies in his stomach. Not only had he told her nothing, not only had he agreed to go and see her tonight, but he asked her if he could bring Max, Max Mullen, with him.

_ _ "Goddamn I'm an idiot...." He said in hushed tones to himself.

_ _ "What could have I have told her? I mean, "Oh hey mom, by the way, I've got ears, a tail, big teeth and I'm covered in fur now. I might even be able to roll over and play dead on command, who knows!" he said to himself more than anyone else in annoyance with his own inadequacy to do just what was needed as he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets roughly.

_ _ "Fuck!" he snapped at himself, at the air. He felt like a goddamned idiot for not just being able to say it. Absently he circled the coffee table three times, having no clue he had done it.

_ _ "Hey, everything okay?"

_ _ Brian turned to see Max, still in his pajama bottoms, with large grease streaks across his chest and belly, wiping his oil and grease covered hands with a rough cloth. His broad body took up a good section of the hallway and he stood there, with his head cocked to the side just in the slightest.

_ _ Sighing, Brian told him.

_ _ "Talked to my mom."

_ _ Max winced. "Didn't go well?"

_ _ "Well, not exactly." Brian replied, walking over to him. "I told her a lot of shit has happened and she asked me to come down and stay tonight with her and tell her in person."

_ _ "I kind of figured that might happen, but we had planned on going to Carsonville anyway to see her, so, I think I'm confused." Max replied as he moved over to the kitchen sink, bent down and dug around in the cabinet under the sink, coming up with an orange bottle of soap. He shot a few bits of it into his furry palms and the scent of orange citrus and rock wafted into Brian's nose. Using his marginally cleaner wrist, Max flipped on the water and began scrubbing his hands and wrists, using his claws to get deep into his undercoat.

_ _ "I didn't tell her that I'm a six foot plus muscle bound bipedal walking wolf man complete with ears, fangs and a tail."

_ _ Max's eyebrows rose and his blue eyes widended. "Ah. I think I see your problem."

_ _ "Exactly and there's more. I told her about you," Brian added, plopping down onto a stool at the bar. Max's eyebrows narrowed at that and Brian quickly added to his statement.

_ _ "I didn't tell her about us...as in us us....I told her you were a good friend and helped me a lot through all this. Asked if you could come and she said sure. So now she's expecting us both to show in a few hours and tonight we're having orzo spaghetti lasagna like nothing is out of the ordinary. Jesus H. Christ...." Brain said, flopping his head down hard to rest on his crossed forearms on the bar, a tiny groan of frustration coming out from him, his tail lashing behind him and his ears pinned flatter than a pancake onto his skull.

_ _ Brian peeked out over his arms and to his right when he felt a heavy strong but gentle hand fall upon his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Max standing there, looking down at him with his ice blue eyes and a kind but rueful smirk on his face.

_ _ "So you mean to tell me the idea of confronting your mother with the truth scares you and stresses you out more than facing a whole warehouse full of thugs to save my sorry ass?"

_ _ Brian growled at him, but only half heartedly.

_ _ "Seriously," Max said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "It'll be okay. I'll get cleaned up and we can head that way. The bike is in worse shape than I thought anyway. Be good to get out of the house. We got this, pup."

_ _ "There's that nickname again." Brian said muffled from his arms.

_ _ "Get used to it. It's better than what I originally wanted to call you two weeks ago."

_ _ As Max made off towards the bathroom to get cleaned up, Brian raised his head, suddenly intrigued and confused. Looking at the bathroom door, he called over.

_ _ "You had a nick name for me two weeks ago?"

_ _ There was a small chuckle from the bathroom, that same quiet sound.

_ _ "Yeah," Max called back loudly.

_ _ "Well don't keep me waiting. What was it?"

_ _ A moment of silence and then Max's voice echoed across the living room.

_ _ "Asshole."

_ _ That made Brian smile and he chuckled to himself, his worries momentarily forgotten.

_ _ "Fuck you!" he called back good naturedly and he heard a sound that he hadn't heard from Max before but it was so muffled through the bathroom door that Brian couldn't be sure he had heard it.

_ _ To him, it sounded like a laugh.

*********

Carsonsville itself was a place that would have vanished onto the map of the United States. It wasn't a small town nor was it a large city. Composed of about 56,000 people as of the 2016 census, give or take a few hundred, its claims to fame were the Carson Chemical Plant and the Komtar Paper Mill; the latter, the chemical plant was a major competitor to Eastman Chemical located hundreds of miles away in Tennessee. It provided the city with its more urbane aspects while at the same time, it kept the town in a sort of stasis. Its jobs had provided at least two generations of families work and it had in fact made a few major contributions to medical plastics and prosthetics. Nearly the entire town revolved around the chemical plant.

Its crime rate in the inner city was fairly high, consisting mostly of the usual vices that medium sized cities possessed in the usual high rates: meth, pills and of course, Jesus.

The Atorak River cut the city in two, with the chemical plant located on the far end of Long Island and the city on the opposite banks. In addition to being home to the chemical plant, Long Island was also home to a public park and a memorial to the fallen Wampanoag people who had stood strong in the face of the invading forces of Captain James T. Wilson, who in 1834, led a bloody assault on Long Island, driving the native people off the island itself. A large swinging bridge painted dull green connected the Long Island park to the parking lot on the other side but the park itself was usually empty, mostly because the crime rates there were higher than normal compared to the rest of the city. Locals said it was the curse of Chief Namumpum, who died cursing the whites, stating that white man will never have peace on that land. Others, more pragmatic, simply knew it was the curse of humanity and the crush of urban life.

From the air, Carsonsville's downtown was laid out into a neat grid with a northern section that turned into a spiral resembling an amphitheater. It was in this amphitheater that the local library, board of education and other public works were located. From there, the urban sprawl gradually thinned out as you left downtown behind and moved out into the suburbs and finally, the more open areas with distance between houses gradually becoming measured in miles instead of feet. With two high schools that both had dramatic forensics teams, a Catholic private school and twin medical campuses that rivaled Wade Johnson Memorial back in Dawson City, Carsonsville was more like a small city trying desperately to be a big city but never quite reaching its potential.

Max's black well-tuned Ford quietly roared down the highway towards Carsonsville, the tires bumping occasionally over the pot holes in the road. The drive itself didn't bother him, he thought, as he kept his eyes on the road, enjoying the thrum of his engine, the rush of acceleration as they rounded curves, the slight loss of gravity as they crested hills and came down. The drive was maybe an hour, hour and a half south of Dawson City, the opposite direction from Forest Glen. It wasn't a trip Max made often, in fact, he thought, he had never actually been to Carsonsville, only knowing it by association.

He and Brian had left not long after he had showered and made himself presentable. The grease in his fur had given him a harder time than usual, but maybe, he thought, it was because was trying to hurry. He had scrubbed himself so hard he felt like his skin was raw but he felt clean. Max thought he should do his best to look casual and as non threatening as possible since most people got one look at him and had an instant panic reaction, and thus he wore a pair of loose cotton Under Armor warm up pants and a blue t-shirt that shockingly had sleeves. The clothes weren't snug on him and in fact were looser than most of what he owned, hiding some of his large physique. Also, it was comfortable, he thought. He had changed out his boots for his only other pair of shoes, a pair of high top black sneakers.

Brian wore what he had on when they had left.

"So which exit are we getting off on?" Max asked taking a curve carefully as a semi-truck pulled up alongside of them, swelling in the mirror and then looming larger than life out of the window before passing them, rattling the truck slightly.

Brian looked over at him and then out of the windshield. A bright green road side sign flashed by showing the upcoming exits and towns.

"Oh. Exit 4."

Nodding, Max nudged the accelerator a bit more as the sun moved across the sky, sinking closer towards the edge of the horizon. It wasn't dark at all yet but was instead that warm golden stage of the afternoon that lit the world with a soft orange red glow like the sun had been dimmed ever so slightly.

Max looked over at Brian in the silence and found his gaze distracted. He found his eyes tracing the contours of Brian's thick neck, the rise and fall of his furry chest, and most of all, his eyes that seemed to be far from the cabin of the truck.

"What's on your mind?"

"You keep asking that." Brian said, half jokingly.

"And I'll keep asking until you tell me." Max told him bluntly but not unkindly.

"I'm just thinking about what's about to happen. She's my mom, Max and I'm not sure I'm the son she remembers anymore. I'm not sure I am who I remember anymore."

"Why do you say that?"

Brian raised an eyebrow at him like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"I feel different lately. I feel like I'm getting close to remembering myself but at the same time the face in the mirror doesn't look like what my brain says it should. But its not just the physical side, Max. Look at what I did in that warehouse...that's not me. That was something else." Brian sighed.

Max looked back to the road and then back to Brian.

"You saved my life. They were thugs...and honestly," Max said, his muzzle forming into a grin. "You look pretty good to me."

"Thanks. That makes me feel better considering that the person you seem to have fallen for looks nothing like what...what I think, what I feel, I look like in my head."

Max swallowed and thought about that for a bit. Cars shot by outside, of them was missing a muffler and the mechanic inside of Max cringed.

What Brian had said stuck with him in a way he didn't like. Not because it was true (it wasn't) but because it reminded him of something and a moment later he had what it reminded him of.

Himself.

Max shook his head and when he looked at Brian again, his blue eyes glinted in the sun.

"Brian. You're the first person to ever truly be there for me in ways that no one else has yet. You stuck by me and risked everything to come after me. I don' care if you were pink with purple ears, you're special to me."

Brian smiled a bit. "Thanks, Max."

Nodding, Max turned his attention back to the road. Up ahead the exits began tot tick down as they passed the signs at seventy-five miles an hour. Exit 10. Exit 8. Exit 6.

"Exit 4." Max said, mostly to himself, slowing the truck up and taking the right ramp down and off the highway, sliding the big vehicle around the bend and finally bringing it to a stop at the intersection.

"Go right." Brian told him. "Then its three miles straight through downtown and when get past the city center it's a about a mile out. I'll tell you when to turn." Brian told him.

"We could have used GPS," Max told him.

"Probably. Don't know why we didn't think of that." Brian remarked feeling like an idiot.

As they drove over a bridge, Max's eyes widened at the sight of what looked like a massive city that rivaled Dawson City. Its lights sparkled as towers rose and fell in size, with so many buildings that it seemed to on to the horizon. A train or rather several of them ran through the melee followed by river front accesses and cars and people buzzed all over it.

"Damn that's Carsonville?" he asked, mildly surprised.

Brian followed where he was looking and he laughed gently. "No, that's Carson Chemical Plant, CCP. It's the big job provider around here. Makes all kinds of chemicals, medical plastics and high tech polymers which you should begin to smell right about....now."

Without warning the most ungodly noxious odor wafted in through the truck's vents. It smelled like a demonic mix of sulfur, urine and for some reason nail polish remover, the scent of acetone nearly making their eyes water. Max gagged and Brian coughed as they crossed the bridge and got closer to the plant.

"Fucking Christ that is....that is something..." Max said, tears in his eyes.

"You actually get used to it but its pretty bad tonight..." Brian admitted and he turned on the air conditioner on high, switching to an air filter. In a few moments, the smell was gone and he was thankful. It was far more overpowering this time than any other time he had ever smelt it and he wondered if it was because his enhanced sense of smell but for a moment, he felt himself actually almost retch.

"You have a strong stomach if you lived here and didn't die from that." Max said glaring sideways as they left the chemical plant behind.

Brian nodded. "There were a few times where we didn't think we'd make it because the apartment was closer than where my mom lives now. Hell, there was explosion at the plant one year and they never told us. We lived on the other side of the island too, not more than a mile from the damn thing."

"That is some bullshit." Max decided and Brian nodded.

"So your mom doesn't live in that apartment anymore?"

Brian shook his head. "No. After dad was killed, the insurance policy from his death set her up for life especially after some friends at the force helped her invest it in the chemical plant. We moved out about a year after he died into a small house just outside the city, thankfully, far enough away so that the chemical plant isn't that big of a deal anymore."

Outside, neon signs flashed and fast food shops littered both sides of the four lane. The city around them was alive. A billboard advertised a law firm and further down, one advertised the Niswonger Children's Memorial Theatre.

As they drew closer to the outskirts of the city, Max looked at Brian again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Brian replied, almost absently, looking out at his old home town as it flew by just outside the glass. For some reason he felt like he was in a mobile fish tank, seeing the world go by, helpless to be a part of it, only able to be taken for the ride.

"At the ware house. I don't remember much after that fuck-face cold cocked me in the back of the head. I know I went down and then you were there. I remember flashes of you. You held your own pretty good but then you got grabbed and I sorta blacked out for a few. How did you get out of that? When I came to, there were bodies everywhere."

Brian turned and shifted in his seat, the leather creaking mildly. He thought about his next words carefully because that was a question that been floating around at the back of his mind since last night as well.

"I remember I was stupid and dropped my guard. Three of them grabbed me hard and two of them pinned my arms back and the other one had me in neck lock. I remember the other guy, the big one with the knife was standing over you."

As he talked, Max could hear Brian's voice shake a bit, with anger and something else.

Fear.

Brian went on, his eyes back at that warehouse. "He said he was going to kill you slowly, and then come for me. Something in me...I don't what it was....Something woke up and I don't remember much after that. It was like I was asleep or drowsy, a passenger in my own head. I have flashes of blood...but not much else until I'm there beside you checking on you and carrying you out of there."

"Was it an adrenaline surge?" Max asked as they slowed for a red light.

"Yes and no...it was something else. I don't how to explain it. It wasn't just the adrenaline...something actually changed."

Absently Max rubbed his arm where Brian had bit him and when he realized he was doing it, he stopped immediately and hoped Brian didn't notice which of course, Brian didn't.

The light turned green and in a few moments, they had left the main city behind and were on more suburban two lane roads and traffic had thinned out considerably. Trees and green lawns had replaced concrete parking lots and business offices. Fast food was replaced by mom and pop diners.

"Have you ever heard of anything like that?" Brian asked.

Max told him the truth, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. "I've been in lots of fights over the years and I can honestly say I haven't but whatever it was saved my life so I'm grateful for it."

Brian nodded and looked back out through the windshield. "Take a right up ahead on Lamont and then go straight for two intersections and then a left onto Avalon Avenue. It's the third house up on the right, with the big tree and hedge row. Gravel drive way."

Following the directions, Max quickly spotted what he thought was the house.

"That one? The beige one with the front porch?"

Brian nodded. "Yup. Home sweet home."

As they drew closer to the house, Brian felt himself grow fidgety and he noticed as they pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the truck's large tires, that he felt nauseous. His stomach suddenly started doing flips like a goddamn circus and his skin beneath his thick fur felt cold. He noticed, that some of his fur was actually standing on end and he felt his ears move back and couldn't help it anymore than he could help it as his tail started to thrash.

Through the windshield, his mom's maroon Chevy Cavalier sat, dust upon its dark paint. The color was muted next to the tall green hedge that lined the driveway, separating the houses. The house hasn't changed much, Brian thought. It was a simple structure, with two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room and a living room. It was small and small was what they needed after their family unexpectedly shrank. His old bedroom was the one that was upstairs and he wondered if his mom had finally moved into that bedroom instead of the lower one downstairs. With its dark roof and beige siding with white trim, it was the picture of small town Americana. Its wide front porch had a wooden swing and twin rocking chairs. It was lined with plants and there on the concrete steps leading up to the porch was a tiny fat green frog with bulging eyes and on the other side of the step, a black puppy.

The front yard was neatly mown and kept and was surprisingly a good size. The chain link fence and gate, Brian thought, was new. The shed and garage were separate from the house and the same old street light poked up from behind it. The backyard was closed off by a tall wooden slat fence.

Max noticed that Brian was breathing hard, bordering on panic. He reached out a hand and let it rest on Brian's thigh.

"Hey, breathe."

It took a moment for the words to register and Brian looked up at Max and realized he was nearly hyperventilating.

"Sorry. Its odd being back here after so long. I never expected to come back here like this. Its harder than I thought. I think I'd rather jump off a few more buildings."

Max smiled. "She's your mom. Trust her to make the right call. She will. "

Brian shook his head and as Max reached for the door handle and raised it with a click, Brian stopped him.

"Dude, I'm not sure I can do this."

Max nodded and reassured him. "Let me go first. I can be charming."

Brian raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. Max frowned and then his face softened.

"What? I can. I deal with customers. I know my way around how to bullshit. Let me go up and knock and then you can come up after. Sound like a plan?"

Sighing and understanding the long he put it off the worse it was going to feel. He could sit here until the apocalypse but nothing was going to change the fact that he had to get up and walk up that red brick walkway to his mom's front porch and look her in the face, fur be damned.

"Alright. Let's do it."

With a thunk of the truck doors, both of them stepped out into the late afternoon sun shine, their fur gleaming and lifting the soft warm afternoon breeze. Brian lingered behind the truck and let Max take the lead, slowly moving out behind him. They stood before the chain link gate and Brian expected it to squeak or protest but it didn't. It glided smoothly open upon its thick steel hinges and in a moment, they were in the yard, the ground and grass soft beneath their feet. The gate closed behind them and there before them lay the strip of rectangular red brick that led up the porch.

The path stood out so starkly in Brian's eyes that it may as well have been a spot lighted fashion show run way in his mind with imagined millions on either side, all chanting for him to take that step and walk, walk, passion baby.

He shook the image as Max moved ahead up the path. His eyes saw motion behind the glass of the front windows and then that shadow moved and the front door handle jiggled. The sound was so loud it seemed.

Christine MacGregor, nee' Swanson, was in her kitchen, making sure everything was properly set out and ready for dinner later. Her son was coming to visit and she was thrilled. She hadn't seen Brian in a year it seemed like. He was so busy with his job at the hospital that whenever he got free time he was exhausted and that she understood. Her day had been quiet, as they mostly were. She had been off the day before and free today. After her morning cup of coffee, Donna, her neighbor had dropped by for lunch and they had made crispy tuna salad sandwiches and yakked like a bunch of school girls and thoroughly had a good time and then, the phone had rang and when she had seen the caller ID, her heard had done a jump.

It had been Brian.

His voice had sounded different she thought. Not like he was someone else but heavy, like he was carrying a massive weight on his shoulders. They chatted for a few but it was when Brian had asked her if they could talk, she knew that something had greatly changed in her son's life and it had alarmed her. She had told him and his friend to come by and stay the night and that they could talk all he needed and she had meant it. She bustled around the kitchen, kicking herself for waiting too long to lay things out. She should have laid them out after she and Brian had gotten off the phone but the news on the television had caught her attention.

In the living room, the LCD television that was up on the wall was on MSNBC and on it the newscaster, a dark haired man, was giving a situation report on a split screen with a white haired older male in a dark suit.

The head line banners were running below the screen in red with white font.

BODIES FOUND IN DAWSON CITY DOCK WAREHOUSE. POLICE SUSPECT LINKS TO OTHERS FOUND IN THE CITY.

She glanced at the screen as the two men talked.

"Mr. Mayor, with all due respect, the police reports are indicating that local law enforcement suspects you could in face have a serial killer on your hands. Three bodies found in a local warehouse, all badly beaten with horrific injuries, a fourth found in an abandoned fishery and of course that's not even mentioning the two found the week before. All bodies showed signs of an animal like attack. Some are suggesting that you have psychotic shifter running loose in your city and that the city isn't doing anything about it. What do you do say?"

_ _ The older white haired man, Jonas Tetch, the mayor of Dawson City, glared at the camera, put off by the insinuation, and not liking being put into a hard spot.

"Derek, listen, I don't know any more than you do, right now and I don't know how those police reports were leaked to you but I will say that we are doing everything in power to find the individual responsible for this. We do not know at this time whether or not it was shifter and I'm not going to make wild accusations until we have evidence. As you know, with the political climate being what it is, I prefer the citizens of our wonderful city feel and understand that we have their safety and their rights at the foremost of our minds, even as we confront this sort of unchained violence."

_ "What can you tell us about the reports coming out of the local hospital of a rising drug problem that could be tied to these deaths; some kind of new street drug?"_

_ _ Christine flipped the set off and was grateful for the silence, sipping her tea from her cup. She wished Brian wouldn't have moved so far away, let alone to Dawson City. That place was a mad house. She worried about him living there but she also knew that she couldn't try to force him to do anything and that she needed to respect the fact that he was an adult. She took much the same approach when Brian had came out to her when he was seventeen. She didn't care that he was gay. She didn't need grand kids. She was good with having a dog if need be. She only wanted him to be safe and happy and if he was both of those, then she could rest easy. His uncle hadn't been accommodating and a rift had grown between them, primarily because Donald was always trying to convert Brian to Christianity and Brian and he would get into heated arguments at family reunions that eventually evolved into shouting and with a sad thought, she admitted that was probably why most of the family didn't get together anymore.

Everyone wanted to fight and no one cared. The family, had faded away one by one over the years.

The sound of crunching tires on gravel caused her to look up and she crossed into the living room to look out the window and to her surprise, she didn't see a bus or a taxi dropping Brian off but rather a large black four door truck parked behind her two door Chevy.

Her surprised expression became one of bewilderment as the driver of the truck got out and stepped out into full view.

He was massive and tall at the same time. Six foot six maybe, easily, maybe taller. His body was well muscled and covered from head to toe in thick grey fur. A tiny bit of a silver blaze on his chest stuck up from under the neckline of his dark blue t-shirt. The loose shirt and the loose black cotton pants and shoes he had did little to hide his powerful and imposing form. His head, she noticed was that of a wolf. Long muzzle, triangular ears and a thick neck with even thicker fur there.

A shifter.

His eyes were the brilliant ocean blue of a husky and he moved gracefully, walking up to the gate, opening it and stepping in to her front yard.

She didn't see the truck's passenger since her attention was purely focused on the large canine form on two legs walking up her path.

Moving from the living room window to the front door, Christine unlocked the door's deadbolt and slid back the chain, turning the door handle, opening the door cautiously, leaving the heavy steel screen door closed and locked.

As if that would do any good if he wanted to rip my head off, she thought with a frown.

As she watched, the taller bulkier shifter moved up the path and he didn't seem to meet her eyes yet but instead, stepped aside just a bit to look behind him to make sure his companion was coming up behind him and that was when Christine saw the other passenger in truck. When she saw him, she felt the world slow down, sounds seemed to mute and the past came back to her so hard she felt her eyes sting.

He too was tall, but a bit shorter than the hulking grey wolf. His frame was muscular as well but again not quite as large as his companion. He wore a long sleeved brown shirt with the sleeves pushed up on his elbow, the shirt open to reveal a clean white t-shirt beneath it. His jeans were neat and he wore ankle supported hiking boots.

His fur gleamed in carbon black, so dark the sun just seemed to be absorbed. His face was noble, his muzzle clean and his ears pinned back along his head like a dog about to be punished. He was looking at the ground and then when he heard his companion stopped to see if he was coming, the black furred shifter looked up and when he did, he saw Christine and Christine truly saw his face.

His strong wide head.

His muzzle.

It was the eyes that did it. His eyes completed the image. They were such a vibrant and natural green that they looked like someone had taken an old fashioned glass 7-UP bottle and held it up the bright mid day sun.

When he looked her in the eyes, she felt the connection immediately and for her, it was like seeing a ghost.

The ghost of man that had been dead now for thirteen years, a man she had deeply loved and dearly missed and she knew in her rational mind that this wolf before her was not that man for that was impossible but all the same, it was like her husband walked again and was coming up her driveway. A bolt of white hot grief shot through her heart, fresh as it was when she buried him years ago.

Jacob MacGregor was back and he was walking up her drive way after thirteen years. He was almost at the porch when he stopped and spoke and the voice broke the illusion. When he looked at her, she knew he saw her stunned face, and his ears fell back even further, his eyes large and his own chest going up and down, his tail tucked between his legs.

"Mom...?"

The tea cup in Christine's hand slipped down her fingers as her heart thumped and her chest heaved her blue eyes wide with shock. The cup hung on the edge of her index finger, the liquid in it spilling out and a moment later, the cup itself fell, smashing into the stone at the front entrance, exploding in shards of white porcelain.

"Brian..."

She heard her voice, felt her lips move and knew that she spoken and but not how she had formed words. She pushed open the screen door and stepped outside into the afternoon sun, her feet on the porch. The grey shifter looked between them and kept quiet and stood aside.

It seemed like it took everything Christine had to make her feet move out of the liquid cement of memory. She struggled hard and finally her feet did move faster as she finally moved down the short flight of steps and into the yard.

She stood before the tall black furred shifter, and quivering, shaking, she rose her small human hand up, straining to do it and laid it gently upon the side of face, just behind the back of his snout, where his jaws met. She held his face, looking into his eyes.

She saw her husband's eyes again.

More importantly, as the ghost of Jacob faded, she saw her son, her beautiful son. The sun setting behind him was making the black tips of his fur blaze orange as if they were on fire as the sun passed through the individual hairs. She buried her fingers into the thick fur of his neck and threw her arms around him as best as she could.

"Brian....oh Brian..." she found words refusing to come out as the other ghosts of her past, this time the ghosts of decisions she and Jacob had made together to protect their son, their joy, came back with a vengeance and all should she could do was look in his eyes and apologize.

"You look just like him....I'm so sorry."

Brian took his mother in his arms and held her in an embrace.

"Its okay, mom. We can talk about it inside but for now...I'm glad you're okay with...me."

Christine pulled back and looked up into Brian's lupine features.

"Why wouldn't I be? You're my son. You're part of me. Nothing will ever change that."

Brian nodded as his mother stepped back and he put his hands in his pockets feeling sheepish as Max stood in the background, waiting patiently to be introduced, not wanting to intrude where he had no business.

Coughing, Brian tried to regain his composure.

"Um, Mom, this is my friend Max. Max Mullen. Max, this is my mom, Chris." Brian said, stepping back a bit. Max stepped forward and put on a warm smile, something Brain found was alien as of yet on his face in his experience with Max. Max stuck out a hand and Christine took it, her small hand vanishing into his meaty digits. He shook it gently and let go.

"Good to meet you." He said.

After a moment of staring at the two of them, Christine seemed to come to her senses.

"Oh god....well, let's go inside, boys. We can talk there and I guess I can start dinner in little bit and Brian....you probably have a lot of questions for me."

Now that the hard part was over, Brian felt himself slowly, very slow, begin to relax a little. His eyebrows raised.

"That would be an understatement."

Nodding, Christine motioned them to follow her into the house and bringing up the rear, his mother's words echoed in his mind Brian turned over the one thing that she had said when she had seen him. It turned over and over as he tried to make sense of it from every angle he could but he couldn't so he would have to wait for the answer inside. There was no need to get angry, and scream and roar. It was a fact and facts cannot be changed but the fact was, his mother and father had hid something from him for some reason and the phrase she had used kept haunting him.

You look just like him....

_ _ Given the context of the situation, Brian's sharp mind was making connections that made no sense but that he could not argue with. Who was this "him?"

The answer was obvious even as he moved up the steps and closed the doors behind the three of them, stepping back into the second of his two child hood homes.

Max leaned in and whispered to him.

"Boys?"

Brian shot him a look and elbowed him in the ribs. Max shrugged it off with a grin.

His father's face, his very human face, floated there next to the question and the connection between the two make his stomach turn a bit with anticipation.

You look just like him...

_ _ ***********

As he crossed the threshold, his boots crunched on something sharp and the crack brought him short. Brian stopped, looked down and lifted up his right foot.

There in a puddle of clear brown liquid were several large shards of white porcelain.

A coffee cup or a tea cup, he thought. His mom must have dropped it when she saw him coming up the walkway and for a moment, he was fifteen again, seeing another tea cup crash to the floor and a sudden unexpectedly sharp pang of a memory squeezed his heart.

"Hey, mom, is the broom and dustpan still in the same place?" he said, looking up, his voice small in the foyer. Chris paused and turned and looked at her son and then saw his face and followed his eyes to the floor.

"Oh fuck me. Christ, I don't know what I was thinking. Yeah, its all in the same place. Let me grab it."

She came back past Max and made to go past Brian towards the broom closet but Brian reached up and stopped her gently with a hand on her shoulder, his massive hand seeming to swallow her shoulder in the process.

"Nah, let me get it this time." He said gently and from the look in his mother's eyes, the moisture that sprung from the corners of her eyes told him she knew what he meant and so, she simply nodded and stepped back.

"Thank you, Bri." She said, looking back towards him as he cleaned up the shards and the spilled tea. With a quick head shake she turned to Max and nodded.

"So, let's get you comfortable, Mr. Mullen." She said directing him to the open living room with its twin couches that faced each other with an old worn smooth coffee table between them. Max felt himself his face redden a bit under his fur.

"Ah...its um...you can call me Max. Mister makes me feel old."

"Nonsense, you don't look a day over 30 but point taken. It drives me batty when I get called mam. I'm certainly not a mam." Chris said as she cleared some magazines off of the sofa and with her direction, Max took a seat carefully, wrapping his tail around his right hip, letting it dangle off of the couch comfortably. The old cloth sofa hugged his large body snuggly and within moments he found that he had settled in quite nicely which was rare given his large frame.

"Now. Drinks. Do you want soda, tea, water, I've got some Scotch too if you need it. I know I do."

"Mom!" Brian said, coming back across the living room with a smile and a frown on his dark features.

Chris shrugged. "What? It feels like its going to be that kind of a discussion so I just want to be prepared. Never go to a raid underfed or under drunk."

Max smiled. He was beginning to like this lady.

"Um, water's fine. Thanks." He said his eyes shooting between Brian and his mother. Brian moved to go into the kitchen and help her with the drinks but she shoo'd him back into the living room like someone was shooing away a cat from the porch. Max decided that the best strategy here was to wait and see and keep his mouth shut. Besides, this was golden, to see Brian squirm a bit. It was amusing, remind him of himself when his mom would fawn over him any time he got a scrape or a cut or anything else for that matter. It was , he thought, the definition of bittersweet.

Brian was pacing when she returned to the living room, the soft glow of the lamps giving the wood paneled walls a gentle welcoming glaze. The central air unit cycled and somewhere a dog was barking.

"Brian, sit down honey. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Brian sat next to Max their arms touching and for a moment, his mom caught it and her eyes lingered but she said nothing. Brian and Max both adjusted themselves to give themselves a few inches as Chris sat down the glass of water for Max, a tumbler of Scotch on the rocks for herself and Brian smiled, seeing she still bought Mountain Dew, his favorite, even though she wasn't a fan of itself, just on the rare chance that he could make the trip to see her for a while. That made Brian feel a twinge of guilt.

Not sitting yet, Chris looked at Brian.

"Before we get into this, I want to get something that will help. There are some things you need to see."

Brian nodded, watching her carefully as she vanished down the hall way past the stairs. He heard the hallway closet door open and heard her shuffling around as things were moved and replaced. He heard the tinkle of cermanics and the jumbling tumble of flotsam.

Brian felt a soft nudge in his ribs and looked down to see Max's elbow resting softly there. He looked up to find Max looking at him.

"You are so nervous I can smell it coming off of you. Are you ok?" Max asked quietly, leaning in.

Brian shrugged and whispered back. "I can feel my teeth tingling."

"Why?"

Shaking his head, Brian looked at Max and tried to explain, glancing down the hall way to see if his mom was coming back.

"I don't know, Max. I can't tell if I'm afraid or eager or angry. So much is going through my head. Its like she's about to tell me something I suddenly already know and that what I know is threatening to tear down something I've held so close but what lies beyond...beyond that person...I don't know whether or not to be afraid of it and what it means for me."

Max's eyebrows raised. "You think you know what she's going to say?"

Nodding, Brian replied. "I've got a feeling ever since she said what she said in the driveway and its sitting in my gut like bad oysters. I hate oysters."

Brian watched as Max squirmed a bit and reached into his pocket, pulling out his truck keys. Perplexed, Brian saw Max fiddle with them, pulling something off of the rings, the keys jingling. Max handed it to Brian and Brian looked at it, unsure of what to make of it.

It was a medium sized deep well socket, a 10mm socket to be specific, that had a hole drilled through it for a key ring to pass through. It was well worn, scratched and dented but it obviously held some sort of importance for Max to modify one of his tools like that and carry it around. The 3/8's of an inch of steel was warm from Max's body heat.

"What's this?"

Max grinned. "Lucky socket."

"What--"

Suddenly Chris was back and the two pulled apart with Max surreptitiously sliding his keys back into his pocket, leaving Brian confused holding the small socket in front of him. He quickly shoved it into a pocket as his mom sat down a medium sized box on the coffee table before them with a surprisingly heavy clunk, jarring the pictures of Brian and his mom from years past as well as the photos of a dark-haired man with green eyes whom Max took to be Jacob MacGregor.

Brian looked at the box with a sense of growing trepidation. He felt his stomach flip around and he knew that once he looked into that box, much like Pandora, there would be no taking it back, no undoing, no un-knowing of what he would learn.

Chris sat on the other couch and for a moment she suddenly found she couldn't speak so she took a few deep breaths. Brian let her take her time. The more time she took gave him more time to prepare himself for what he was going to learn and that was time well spent, though he suspected that nothing he could ever do would keep his foundational world views of who he was and where he came from from shattering so in a way, he thought, and he knew, that he was holding onto a false hope.

"Brian, before we get into this, I just want to say a few things." Chris said at last, her eyes cast down.

"I want to say you are my son and I truly deeply love you. Your father did as well. You are our world, our sun. Our lives revolved around you and you are the best blessing a family could have ever asked for. Your father and I were and are so proud of you. I know he is because I am."

"I also wanted to say," she continued, and when she looked up, her eyes were wet with tears that threatened to fall. "That I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your father and I didn't tell you the truth and for the mistakes we made. All I can ask is that you look into your heart when you see what is in that box that you can try to forgive us for what we did. We did it because we loved you and now I know that what we did was wrong..."

With those words, Chris pushed the box towards Brian. Brian looked at the box and suddenly, he knew the answers were inches in front of him and all he had to do was lift off a cardboard top. Brian felt his jaw tremble and knew his ears were practically pasted to his skull. He felt the fur on the back of his neck raise and he knew that if he wasn't covered in thick fur, he'd have goose flesh.

He felt Max give him a pat on the shoulder and in that moment, he didn't care if his mom saw it or not as he reached out and took the box and pulled it to him, setting it down on the floor in front of him. His fur covered finger tips caressed it gently, tracing the edges of the lid, the course pads on the underside of his finger tips making the smallest raspy sound. He noticed the box was duct taped together and had been for a very long time. Knowing that putting it off any longer wasn't going to help anything, he poised his index finger over the tape, pushing his blunt short claw against it.

He sighed and took a deep breath and ripped the tape off, lifting the lid and when he saw what was inside, he felt his throat go dry.

"We wanted you to have this after we both passed but...things being what they are...I think now is as good a time as any." Chris said meekly.

At least two photo albums filled the box up with their bulk. Surrounding it were dozens of other photos and pieces, all framed or put away in envelopes. The photo albums were the big three ring binder type, filled to the brim with clear plastic sheets, with each sheet having multiple pockets for photos and mementos. Each album was a rich navy blue book with gold trim and he recognized them immediately as belonging to the set his mom and dad had on the old bookshelf in the apartment before his dad died. There were always two albums missing of the numbered set and his parents had always told him that they didn't know what happened to them and theorized they were lost in the move to the apartment from the smaller run down unit when he was a baby.

Staring at them now, he felt a cold shiver run up his spine as he raised his head and looked first at the bookshelf, now next to the TV, the same one he had eventually grown to overlook a thousand times and saw the set of blue albums there and saw there were the same missing two books, just like years ago. He glanced at his mom who didn't say a word, and he saw that she was suddenly struggling to maintain her composure and unable to find words himself, he lifted the albums out and set them on the table.

Below the albums and below the pictures was an old leather jacket, a black one with vertical red bars on the sleeves between vertical white lines and there, to the right, was a black box with gold hinges. Its small size told him what he would find in there as his shaking fingers picked it up.

With a click, it opened, springing up and there, resting on blue velvet inside was his father's police badge with a simple black band across it made of silk cloth. His jaw trembled again as he ran his fingers over the shining brass.

Closing it, he set it aside gently and went back to the albums. Picking up the first one, he pulled it into his lap, he flipped open the cover and the image he had of his father in his mind with his light skin tanned from being outside so much, the rough skin of his knuckles, the wavy dark hair and green eyes rose before him and shattered into pieces so small they would never come together again.

The first few pictures in the album were of a werewolf, a shifter, who to his shock, looked just him. Covered in head to toe in jet black fur with sharp green eyes and a wide happy smile as he embraced a young sandy-blonde haired human woman dressed in bellbottoms and a brown t-shirt; in the image, both of them were laughing hysterically in silent mirth, forever frozen in time. She was tiny next to him. It his mother. Both of them were flipping peace signs and his mother had a crown of pink and white flowers on her head.

They were outside somewhere, and behind them a red brick building rose up, and judging from the look of it, it was Carsonville Community College only decades in the past if the cars were anything to judge by.

As he flipped the pages in stunned silence, trembling with each flip, his heart pounding, more moments from a past he never remembered came up to him, moments from the time before he was born, moments of the lives of his younger mother and yes, he had to admit it now, his father.

So many memories, so much time and all of it was at once alien and instantly familiar as three lives finally crashed together as one. There were photos of his parents graduating, with a surly shot of his uncle Donald looking angrily at the graduates, his dad not caring, raising his diploma to the sky, tossing his hat into the air, his triangular ears and tail gone wild. In one image, this one deeper into the books and obviously a few years later and judging by the radio on the kitchen sink, in the early eighties, his mom stood with a spatula in one hand, holding the hand of a black furred shifter who was just out of frame as she danced wildly, singing into the kitchen implement, her shirt covered in dough and flour.

The next image hit him harder than many others.

It was in a field, and the sun was high in the sky, and a bridal arch had been constructed by hand, white painted and curved, covered in curled ivy and pink and white flowers. There were at least a dozen people, including a few shifters in the crowd and he noticed by this point in the album, his grandfather on his mom's side had stopped showing up. Brian knew that he had died of a heart attack not long before his parents had gotten married and the thin drawn figure of a small woman with gray hair in a floral print dress that reached her ankles drew his eye. His grandmother, Grandma Annie.

There, under the arch, was his father, the only person it could be, he thought, swallowing hard. His father was built like Brian himself was: powerful, tall and broad shouldered with jet black fur and stunning green eyes. He wore his police dress uniform, and the same badge that Brian had just seen in the box was in the photo, proudly pinned to his chest. He father stood in front of his mother who herself was dressed in a simple flowing dress made of white cotton with one shoulder exposed, her skin radiating in the afternoon sun. A crown of flowers sat upon her head and she held his father's hand, looking deeply into his eyes as a minister, dressed in traditional suit, gave them the rites of marriage. The minister, Brian noticed seemed familiar, almost like...

Father Raymond.

It had to be but couldn't be, His parents weren't religious but Raymond had been a good friend of theirs and had agreed to perform the ceremony. But this minister was a shifter in his canine form, looking like a dark gray furred Schnauzer. Raymond himself had died, they said, just after he turned seven. Natural causes, they had said. Doubt began to bloom knowing what he knew now about shifter biology.

In the wedding pictures he had seen on the mantle and on the tables around the house growing up, his father been human and so had the minister. Granted, those photos, he now thought, seemed zoomed in, cropped. The more he thought about it, the Schnauzer could only be Father Raymond. The eyes were identical.

What were these then? What were all these photos?

He moved onto the second book and in it, going through the pages, he knew he could no longer doubt.

The first images in the second book were of his birth. His mother lay on a hospital bed, dressed in a gown, a privacy screen shielding her knees and private areas as the doctors handed her a chubby squalling baby boy. Standing next to her at her shoulder was that same black furred shifter, his eyes wet with pride as he beheld the miracle of his son and the angelic beauty of his wife. The look on his face said it all really. He was father and proud of it. This was his family.

The image below that one, was the exact same but instead of the shifter standing there, Brian saw instead the familiar human man that he had known as Jacob MacGregor, his dad, all of his life.

A part of his brain nudged him and he pulled the pictures out and held them up side by side, and with trepidation, turned them over to see the dates and times.

His answer was now in front of him and it was sinking in very quickly as to why his mother had said what she did.

The time stamp on the photo with the shifter next to his mother was marked MAY 1,1990 17:34:35. The second image, with the human next to his mother bore the same date, May 1, 1990, but the timestamp was a barely a minute or so later at 17:37:12.

He recognized military time and quickly converted it.

5:34 PM and 5:37 PM respectively. May 1st was his birthday. He knew he was born in the afternoon.

He knew what the two separate images meant and he knew it was not a result of photo manipulation but rather a set up. One photo to keep for real and one staged photo to put on display for...

Display for who?

Display for me, his mind finished.

All of the information that he had gotten from the photos told him everything he needed to know except one thing. The why.

His father, had been a shifter and he and his mother, for some reason, had hid that from him his entire life, going so far as to hide real photos and then take second ones as to avoid suspicion or the curious mind of an intelligent child. The picture of a man he thought he knew as his father, the human man, was gone and in its place now was a figure, split between time, a man, and a wolf.

"Why?" he said when he was finally able to speak. "Why didn't you guys tell me? What was so wrong with it that you had to hide from me who my father was this entire time.

Beside him, Max sat in stunned silence as well, and he made a cough and tried to excuse himself but found himself restrained by Brian's powerful grip on his waistband, yanking him back down to the couch and Max instantly interpreted that silent signal for what it meant without a word.

Don't go. I need you. Please stay.

And so, he did stay.

Chris's hands shook, the ice in the tumbler in clicking together like old bones.

"Brian....you have to understand that things back when you were born, even before, were much different. The world was a harsher place. Not as accepting. Your dad and I, once we got married and knew that you were on the way, simply didn't want you to have to experience any of that pain, any of that rejection. We didn't know if you were going to be like him and gifted but you grew up and never showed any signs and so we relaxed a bit and just let you live and have a full happy life. Until your father passed away, I never thought twice about what he and I agreed to do...but now...I see it was wrong. There were things that we didn't want you get involved in so that you wouldn't have to experience any of the...any of the hell...that people...people like him went through as a child."

"What do you mean?" Brian asked quietly, his voice shaking. Chris set down her glass, untouched and reached forward and gently turned a few pages in the album in Brian's lap.

"Your father and I were both activists. We were involved in marches for shifter's rights. Sometimes, those marches got ugly. It's how we met in college. One thing led to another and we fell in love and he was so good to me, Brian. He loved me so much and I loved him. Love blinded us when you came along."

Brian looked down and these images he saw were much older, almost sepia toned, some of them were black and white. He remembered pictures of the Civil Rights marches with Dr. King and these were similar, with thousands of people marching on Washington, hundreds seemed to be shifters, others were human. Officers at the sides of the marches held back dogs with snarling open mouths and as he turned the pages, he saw images of cops spraying shifters with fire hoses, sending them sprawling as their human and shifter companions tried to shield them.

The next image was of his mother and father, hand in hand, staring down the loaded and cocked rifle of a military guard.

"We wanted a better world for you. A life where you didn't have to fight for the right just to survive. We made a promise to each other to hide the truth if you were born without the abilities your father had. When you didn't show any of the signs of being like your father, we were relieved because it meant you'd never have to feel what we did, getting kicked out of restaurants or having guns pointed at our faces."

Brian swallowed, looking at the pictures, his throat dry. His father and mother had been activists, like Draco and his eyes quickly scanned the images, looking for Draco's noble face but he didn't see it. His mom and dad had been fighting for change for people they didn't even know, and had experienced firsthand the hatred that people can throw out. Brian had to admit, growing up had been mercifully easy and mostly free of bullies. Now, he knew why his father had made such an excellent cop and why he had specifically worked homicide and later drug enforcement. He literally had the nose for it. Did his co-workers know?

"One of my co-workers back when I was pregnant with you..." Chris said sniffling a bit. It took her a moment to collect herself. "One of them told me I should abort you or give you up for adoption and Brian that hurt me so badly. I wanted you more than anything. You were mine. My child. I could never do that."

Brian's eyes widened. He had never been told that story.

His parents had hidden an entire side of their lives and selves from him, all to protect him from the social and cultural storm sweeping the country and had raised him and kept him against all odds and genuinely had no idea that he carried the gene. He thought the technology to detect it at the time didn't even exist and even if it did, the Lycanthropic Genome Project wouldn't have been even started at the time. They had taken a gamble and stuck by him.

He wanted desperately to be mad, to scream and yell and throw something but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, what settled in that emotional storm's vaccum was a quiet acceptance of the truth. He had always watched the battle for shifter rights from the side lines, angry at the idiocy people had towards others, having no idea that his parents had actively fought it during its worst period. It was the secret legacy of his father, to be a fighter for peace and he died as a man of justice. His mother had stood by his father as well, just as much as a fighter for progress and change.

Max's family, Brian thought, had pulled Max out of school to protect him and spent years home schooling him and making his world as safe as they could, too.

Chris had stood up and stood before Brian, looking very small, her eyes red, her face wet, her head bowed.

"Brian, I'll understand if you're angry. I'll even understand if you don't want to talk to me for a while but please...don't leave me. You're my son. You are the light and love of my life and the only part of your dad I have left. You are my family. Your grandparents and most of the rest of the family didn't care for your dad. He started hiding it from them too after a while and everyone pretended it was normal."

Brian stood as well and standing before her, he threw his powerful arms around her and pulled her close.

Chris buried her face into the thick fur of his chest beneath the cloth of his shirt, and in that moment, the emotions Brian had been holding back broke and together, mother and son finally wept and perhaps, they saw each other for the first time as truly complete people.

Brian nuzzled the side of his mother's much smaller human head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the smell of fresh flowers and spring days.

"I'm not going anywhere, mom. Not ever. I'm not mad at you and I understand. I love you. Thank you...for letting me know who he was and who you were. I think," he said, thinking as he blinked away moisture in his eyes. "I think I know who I am now."

Pulling away, Chris took Brian's big head in her hands and held it there, looking deep in his green eyes.

"I'll tell you who you are. You are an amazing person. A strong person. A good person. Just like your father."

Brian closed his eyes at her touch and savored it. There was nothing on the planet that could heal any pain, any wound, any faster and as deep as a mother's loving touch.

A few moments more and Chris tossed a glance over at Max.

"And you have good taste in men." She said, a smile forming on her lips as she wiped her eyes clear.

Brian felt his face go red and instantly went to protest, his ears flattening even farther if that was possible. He stammered and Max started to protest gently as well, but Chris silenced them both.

"Please. You two should know by now that a mother can tell. A mother knows. Its just something we do and nothing makes me happier than to know that Brian has found someone to love and who cares about him in return. I can tell you do, Max. You keep him safe."

Unable to say anything and finding that stammering objections was useless, Max simply nodded, his face flushed so hot he thought if he touched his own skin that he would burn himself, fur included. Brian sank back down onto the sofa, the box at his feet, the albums on the coffee table.

"Now then!" Chris said, coughing and cleaning her face as best as she could. "I am going to get dinner started and you two can sit there and don't even think about moving into kitchen or so help me I'll swat you, Brian. You too, Max. I want to cook dinner for my son and his boyfriend. God, I've always wanted to say that." She said, and headed toward the bathroom to properly restore herself to normal.

Brian watched her go and slumped against the couch, breathing slowly and smiling a bit. His mom was something else. She always had been.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag," Max said, sheepishly. Brian looked over at him and grinned a little, his eyes still moist.

"Yeah. I guess so. Is that a bad thing?" Brian asked hesitantly. Max shook his head and gave that typical Max macho reply.

"Nah. I don't really care. I don't give a shit what people think. You should know that by now. Besides your mom was right. I like her."

Brian nodded and looked down at the box between his ankles and the albums on the table. His mother, he thought seemed greatly relieved and to be honest, right now, he was numb but it wasn't in a bad way. He was just processing everything he had learned and all it meant. He was quiet long enough for Max to give his shoulder a gentle shake.

"You ok?"

Brian smiled and looked over at him. "You keep asking that." He smiled.

Max nodded sagely, his ears swiveling towards Brian.

"And I'll ask it every day and you'd better believe it."

With a tug, Max pulled Brian over to him and Brian didn't resist and laid there in Max's arms, lying up against his powerful warm body, letting his head fall gently onto Max's broad chest, and enjoyed the thumping beats of Max's heart. A moment later, Brian felt Max's arm fall across him and embrace him tightly, wordlessly.

Sometimes, Brian thought, you didn't need words and this was one of those times. Max silently placed his chin on the top of Brian's head and Brian could feel his thumb making tiny slow circles in the fur of his shoulder, a silent reassurance.

The fear, the panic and the anticipation that had been building in him for weeks, the same emotions that had worn a wound into his psyche seemed to hurt less lying here, propped up against Max. They seemed to finally start to fade and maybe, Brian thought, they would heal after all.

Chapter 9

Jackson sat behind his curving desk in the tech room of Forest Glen. The tech room was his domain, the place where he felt the most comfortable. Unlike the rest of the ancient manor, the tech room was fully modern and used to be the manor's ballroom but Draco had allowed him (and paid for him) to remodel it into the thriving beating electronic heart of the manor itself. Composed of walls of bullet proof transparent glass and supported and braced by beams of matte black steel, it was a haven for him. From this point, he could control every system in the manor, every door lock, every sprinkler, every security system (and there were several) and also monitor the grounds and surrounding woods.

He had custom designed the entire system, including the operating system. Here, Jackson felt safe from the awkward social interactions that always followed suit when he was involved. It wasn't that he didn't like people, he thought, pushing his glasses up on his nose. It was that people tended to not like him because he had an annoying habit of saying too much too fast and making it worse by trying to fix whatever harm he had unintentionally caused. Of course, all this would be made so such simpler if people would just say what they mean instead of speaking in metaphors and analogy.

_ _ A graduate with honors of MIT, Jackson had worked for Towson Consolidated, an super company whose headquarters was in the heart of Dawson City, a direct competitor to Madison Genetics. He was their systems analyst and head of IT and during his time with the company, he had created and built a vast fiber optic network, keeping the entire building running smoothly as well as analyzing new technologies, both bio-organic and technological in origin. For him, taking apart a super computer was as easy as breathing and yet here he sat, in his khaki pants and black shoes with his white shirt un-tucked, sleeves rolled up, the first four buttons on his shirt open, exposing his brown-white fur beneath, his face and eyebrows knitted in frustration.

_ _ For the last week it seemed like, Jackson had been trying to undo the systems damage someone in Raven's lab had done, either by intention or accident, by brute force wiping data from the OS itself and its storage banks. The super computers downstairs were thankfully intact but the electronic mayhem that had been wreaked was something that was fast, surgical and he had to admit, rather good. The more he had worked on it, the more he had come to suspect that it was not in fact an accident but rather a deliberate act of sabotage.

_ _ He sat between the two curving desks of what he called his operations center, a raised reinforced glass and steel platform from which he could control everything. Banks of flat screen monitors lined the desks as well as flat keyboards and one large piece of computer hardware that Jackson had to admit was his favorite. It was a 27 inch flat screen computer that seemingly had a tiny body and was in fact, seemingly made up of all screen that sat on thick pivot joint angled up at the user. The Lenovo IdeaCentre A720. The perfect touch screen device for an active and heavy computer life style, he thought proudly.

_ _ Jackson whirled in his wheeled leather chair and spun around as he slid back across to the other desk. His brown and white furred hands flew across the keys. Images on the screen flew by.

_ _ There, he thought, seeing the binary damage flash by once again. He isolated it, enlarged the window and executed an heuristic algorithm that would surely repair the damage.

_ _ A moment later the screen flashed with a red error message.

_ _ "Damn it," he cried in frustration. He took his glasses off his round head and slammed them on the desk, rubbing his dry eyes in irritation. He leaned back in his chair and tried to relax, to calm down. This wasn't going to help find out whatever that someone was trying to hide, he knew and he took a few deep calming breaths.

_ _ He heard a knock and his big floppy ears swiveled towards the sound. Cracking open his fingers, he peeked over at the glass and steel door.

_ _Molly.

_ _ Jackson jerked his head and a moment later, Molly entered the tech room, the door sliding open with a hiss and closing behind her. She was dressed as she always was: a dark pant suit with dark heeled shoes and to his surprise, her jacket was off, leaving her with just her white shirt and blouse on, the most comfort she would allow herself to have. Her blue-green eyes and short red hair also looked a bit frayed, as if she too had been working harder than usual, which Jackson knew she had. He had told her and Draco about the erasure and damage to the systems and Molly had been probing her extensive former government sources from her time as an FBI agent to help find some way of cracking the problem and so far, she had as little luck as he had.

_ _ Draco was concerned about the erasure and he had ruled out saying who he thought it may be, though obviously everyone involved had their suspect and it wasn't Raven; the question is why would he have done it, he being Rakinos. Molly and Jackson had both objected to him being present but Draco had overruled them, feeling confident in everyone present would behave themselves. Obviously, someone hadn't.

_ _ "Any luck?" Molly asked, stepping up onto the platform, coming up beside Jackson, standing with her arms crossed, looking at the red flashing error screen.

_ _ For a human, she wasn't bad and he liked her.

_ _ "None. I've tried every algorithm I know for reconstruction but so far, it just throws up errors. I can't figure out why. I engineered entire networks, I can hack the Pentagon for Christ's sake but I can't fix this. Its driving me insane. Whatever it was, was a lot of data." Jackson sighed. He squirmed a bit when Molly raised an eyebrow at his mention of his prolific skills and he quickly back tracked.

_ _ "Not that I would ever do that. Not that I have done in a long, well, I would never commit a felony. I mean, prison food is nasty. So I've heard."

_ _ "Right." Molly said and her hard expression melted a moment later and she put a reassuring hand on Jackson's shoulder, her gold cross around her neck winking in the florescent lights and LEDs.

_ _ "Call up the raw data block." She said thoughtfully and Jackson could hear an idea forming in her voice. She always got a certain sound in her voice when an idea was hatching and Draco trusted it and that meant Jackson did too. He entered a few commands, hands flying over clacking clicking keys. The windows on screen changed size, zoomed out and zoomed in, revealing a huge section of binary code that was missing entire chunks, the whole thing flashing red.

_ _ As she studied it, her sharp eyes flicking line by line, Jackson wondered what she saw that he did not.

_ _ "Have you tried heuristic algorithms? NET code recovery? Reverse compilation?"

_ _Jackson nodded. "All of the above."

_ _ Turning back to the screen, Molly frowned. "The security tapes from the lab, the only place anyone could have accessed a terminal. Did they show anything?"

_ _ Jackson nodded. "Just Raven and Rakinos testing Brian and Max's samples. The resolution isn't good enough to be zoomed in on screens and believe me, I've tried zooming, cleaning, restructuring. Nada."

_ _ "Doesn't every station have a work ID code so its actions can be traced?" Molly asked, standing up and back.

_ _"They do and I'm pretty sure by this point it was the one that Rakinos was using so I'm pretty sure he's our guy but as to what he did or what he was hiding," Jackson growled in frustration. "No dice."

_ _ Something about the image looked familiar to Molly and she knew that she had seen it somewhere but where.

The numbers ran up and down in rows, zero then one then zero zero then one. Besides the layer of encryption the manor used on its network, there was something...

_ _ "I know what this."

_ _Jackson's ears perked up. "You do?"

_ _ "Yeah I do. Remember a few months ago when you helped the FBI crack that hack and slash attack on the Hoover Buildings computers? This same signature was left behind. Its binary decay initiated by a processor over clock command. Simple, brutal and effective. Have any of your processors been over heating?" Molly asked looking at him as realization dawned on Jackson's beagle like face.

_ _"Yeah. Yeah there has been a set overheating in tower three and I couldn't isolate it. I didn't connect the two."

_ _"Which computers does tower three service?"

_ _ Groaning at his own over sight, Jackson turned back to the keyboard, his fingers racing. "The lab and medical bay scanners and simulators. I should have seen that. If this is binary decay from an over clock command, I can reverse and rebuild it with a Hols-Arnon equational algorithm!"

_ _"How long will that take?"

_ _"Not sure, shouldn't be more than 12 hours tops. That's a lot of data to recompile but when its done we'll know what Rakinos tried to hide." Jackson said proudly, swiftly entering commands, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

_ _"Want me to call Raven and tell Draco?"

_ _"Yeah."

_ _Molly nodded and headed out of the tech room to leave Jackson to his work since he was already far and away long gone into his binary digital world.

******

_ "You did what?"_

Harvey Madison stood in his lab coat, arms crossed, face wide in shock, the anger in his voice apparent, loud enough to hear in the halls only if the room itself wasn't soundproofed. He had spent all day at the office, days, in fact, trying to direct the board's attention away from the accounting errors that had been found by one nosy little shit of an accountant and so far all he had managed to do was get himself in deeper. They were moving forward with an official inquiry and he was effectively powerless to stop them. It was his goddamn company, he had thought savagely and here, come to find out, his partner had in fact went ahead with testing without telling him or having him present.

_ _Rakinos sat at his desk, hands and fingers steepled under his powerful chin, his scarlet eyes tracking Madison as he paced the room. Rakinos could feel his blood pressure climbing with every instant he spent in Madison's prescence.

_ _"I told you. It worked. The effects of the bane were stabilized by the introduction of MacGregor's DNA. The triple helix withstood the ionizing effects of the radiation long enough to allow the bane to fully activate. It had a side effect as well. The bane seemed to trigger a third transformation in the shifter subject and it interacted with the DNA. We knew it was possible; we didn't know how useful it could be, only its potential." he told Madison quietly.

_ _Madison whirled on and got into Rakinos's face, pointing a scrawny finger at his nose.

_ _"You wasted our entire supply of that DNA on what, a science project? A freak? We needed more time. More testing. We don't know if that thing you've made is stable. I can't take it to the board and sell it to them. That DNA was priceless."

_ _Rakinos held back a snarl. For now but how long he was going to hold back, he thought, wasn't going to be long. He was tired, utterly of Madison and his mewling. It had been mewling since day one, unending.

_ _"I'm not proposing we take the dog soldiers to the board--"

_ _"Dog soldiers? Is that what you're calling it? You think just because you finished what they couldn't in World War 2 that....Jesus Christ this is a disaster. You've made a Frankenstein instead of a viable controllable bio-weapon, you idiot."

_ _Rakinos felt a switch flip somewhere deep inside and realized that Madison was never going to shut up. He was never going to stop mewling. He would never allow true progress because his mind was too feeble, to limited. His earlier desire for a human test subject had gone unused, out of patience but now, that patience had run out.

_ _He let his hands fall to his side as he stood up and walked around his desk, deliberately taking his time.

_ _Coming up to Madison he sighed and stepped around him. Madison was still ranting.

_ _"What are we going to do now? We don't have enough DNA to replicate. We can't just go and kidnap him and force him to give us what we need."

_ _Rakinos stood before a locked metal cabinet and slowly, carefully, he unlocked it. With a click it slid out and he reached in and when his hand came out, it held a tiny vial with a blue-green glowing fluid inside of it. Not the bane, but something just as good.

_ _He ran a finger up and down the glass casing.

_ _Turning around, he looked at Madison.

_ _"That's exactly what we are going to do, doctor. I don't see any reason why we can't."

_ _"Are you fucking crazy? If we get caught trying, our whole operation will be exposed!" Madison snarled, throwing up his hands in frustration.

_ _"Of course, the easiest solution is to make him come to us. Hanging around Max Mullen won't do him any favors. Sooner or later, he and Draco will put two and two together and do something stupid, and I'm going to force their hand."

_ _"You've lost your mind, what little is left of it, Rakinos."

_ _Rakinos held up the tiny hypodermic injector in his hand, the blue glow bleeding out over his blood red fur.

_ _Madison glared at him and for the first time, he realized that he was in fact, alone in the room with Rakinos who had expertly worked Madison into a corner.

_ _"What's that?"

_ _Rakinos looked surprised at the thing he held and then he pretended to finally see it.

_ _"Oh. This? Well, you see", he started, his deep voice sending shivers up and down Madison's spine and Madison realized why a moment later. It was the same death purr a cat would give a mouse it had cornered.

_ _"This is what's left of the replicated triple helix DNA from MacGregor in its pure and undiluted form, just enough for study or for use on specific subject. I held it back. It's really a great set of options when you think about it and doctor, by the way, your services will no longer be required."

_ _Madison bolted but Rakinos was faster, arm barring the man roughly across the chest like a clothesline. With a cry, gravity yanked Madison done hard onto the stone floor, his head smacking wetly into the hard unforgiving rock. A trickle of blood seeped out from his scalp as his vision blurred and he tried to stand but was too dazed.

_ _Rakinos knelt down and with his free hand, yanked Madison to his feet and in the same smooth motion, slung him into wall hard enough to splinter it, driving the wind from the doctor, pinning him there, holding him a foot off the cement floor.

_ _Rakinos leaned in close to Madison's face, baring his fangs and Madison too dazed to understand what was happening to him and he looked down that gaping maw of teeth uncomprehendingly, his vision swimming, his back burning, his legs strangely numb.

_ _"I need your help one last time, doctor."

_ _Madison saw Rakinos's other hand come up, his blurred vision and concussed brain seeing the glowing injector coming closer in slow motion. He tried to yell, to fight but all that came out was a strangled gurgle of snot and blood.

_ _The injector's flat base was suddenly pressed on his neck and Rakinos paused, looking into Madison's eyes, his own eyes flaring scarlet.

_ _"Thank you for your service."

_ _With a click, he depressed the firing stud and Madison felt a lance of steel rocket into his neck and a moment later, liquid fire entered his veins. Rakinos watched every drop of the liquid be injected, the chamber draining slowly before he tossed it away and dropped Madison to the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes.

_ _On the floor, Madison lay crumpled but not for long. His body began to rack with convulsions as every vein in his body began to glow blue, first faintly and then with more and more light. Madison himself felt like his insides were melting, cooking in their own juices. Somewhere in his pain over loaded brain, he could hear them frying and he tried to scream and instead what came out was a gargled strangled high pitched shriek of agony as he bucked on the floor, his hands and fingers breaking themselves into new shapes.

_ _Rakinos watched Madison's spine grow so hot it fluoresced through his lab coat which soon split at the shoulders. Madison spat up a wad of blood and he looked up at Rakinos, begging for death, begging for mercy, bleeding from his ears and eyes.

_ _Rakinos simply stood back and calmly watched as Madison's mewling and moans soon turned to high pitched blood curdling screams of agony.

_ _Madison should know better, Rakinos thought. There is no mercy.

Stepping up to the door that led to his office, Rakinos pushed the button and the door slid open with a hiss. For a moment, as he stepped out of his office, Madison's horrific screams echoed and rippled up and down the hall way before being silenced a moment later as the door sealed shut. Rakinos turned to head back down to the lab when suddenly a shifter scientist, a female with long dark hair came up to him and nervously stopped him.

"Sir?"

Rakinos turned and looked at her expectantly and she withered under his scarlet gaze.

"What?"

"The DNA analysis on sample two you asked for. We finished it." she said, her voice trembling as she held up a tablet and flicked the screen on. "There's a..."

"A what?" he asked calmly, his voice laced with death.

"There was an anomaly. We found a match to sample 2 inside our own archives."

Rakinos's ears perked up and his eyes widened. Sample two was Max Mullen's DNA sample.

"Who's?" he asked.

Shaking, she handed him the tablet and Rakinos unlocked the screen, the blue glow lighting up his face. He studied the read outs, the numbers and the genetic profile comparisson. He had ordered a full work up on both Brian MacGregor and Max Mullen. Reading the outcome of the testing on sample two, that of Max Mullen, made a hot shiver run up his neck and he felt himself strangely feel something he hadn't felt in many years.

Cold realization and fear sinking in followed by white hot rage.

"Yours." she finished and quickly ducked away.

Rakinos let her go, too stunned by what he was seeing on the tablet. He didn't realize he was squeezing it until the Gorilla Glass that made up its screen splintered and finally shattered.

*********

Draco stood in his study on the second floor of the manor looking out over the now moon kissed fields and forests behind the house. The mountains rose in the distance, cobalt blue sentinels older than man, and their peaks reaching towards heaven, forever falling short. The sun had set about two hours ago and if he strained, he could hear the crickets outside and the wind as it passed through the trees like a ghost. He looked at his reflection in the glass and contemplated.

_ _ For the first time in days, he had left the suit jacket behind and wore a light gray t-shirt that was loose on his enormous frame. It was plain, unadorned and that was how he preferred it. There was no tie, no buttoned up shirt. While he insisted on decorum and presentation, there were times that it was ostentatious and became more of a burden. He had traded his business suit pants for cloth warm up pants and his feet were bare, the pads of his toes resting gently on the Persian rug that covered the floor in his office, the residual heat from the day seeping into his feet, feeling quite nice. His long silver gray hair he still kept in his favored pony tail and that was something he had kept since he first grown it in long almost fifty years ago now.

_ _ His ocean eyes and silver fur were both dark now in the soft dim light of the study. He always turned the lights down low when he was thinking as it helped remove distractions. Draco had many things on his considerable mind: the final impending vote on the Lycanthropic Registration Act, forced through the Senate by a landslide vote by the GOP and its fellow right wing groups. The act was trash and it was sold on fear. Fear that shifters presented some kind of threat to the human population, that any mother or child could turn feral and go on a killing spree at random. Draco frowned as that thought came through his mind, because they were never so eager as to curb the epidemic of violence brought about by the psychotic worship of the assault rifle and its deadly siren call.

_ _Another thing on his mind was how extremist groups on both sides were not making the issue any easier to see through. Lupine Freedom, the werewolf extremist group that leveled a devastating attack on the Library of Congress and of course, Odin's Spear, their human equivalent fighting for human supremacy, were both muddying the waters to the point that it was often impossible for the average person to tell them apart. On that level, at least one of those groups he could understand their motivations. Odin's Spear was founded and led by a former KKK Grand Wizard, Elias Stone, and Stone wasted no time in stirring up panic and rage and fear among the KKK elite, building a group set about specifically to combat what they saw as the erosion of humanity itself. The loss of identity or the perception of such was a powerful motivator, Draco thought.

_ _The other group, Lupine Freedom, was much more mysterious and despite all his probing, all his contacts, he had been unable to date to determine who their leader was and what they ultimately wanted or thought they gained by pulling horrifically violent terrorist attacks against human targets or symbols of humanocentric life. The rage he could understand but the sheer violence, the brutality but it was the insanity of literally defeating the purpose of living peacefully side by side with their fellow man that he couldn't understand. It made no sense unless of course, their leader had no intention of ever living peacefully.

_ _Despite these thoughts, the ones that floated on the surface of his mind most of all were those concerning Brian MacGregor and Max Mullen.

_ _ Ever since Max and Raven had brought him to Draco to see if any answers could be given about how he was still alive and now a werewolf himself, Draco couldn't get Brian out of his mind. The boy himself seemed to be a good person, albeit somewhat impatient and in many ways naïve. In the week that Brian had spent at Forest Glen trying to master his shape shifting abilities, Draco had noticed he was also fiercely determined but that he didn't take failure well. MacGregor also possessed a sharp mind and an even sharper wit, often with a self depreciating edge to it. He and Max Mullen had formed a deep bond and that much was evident to anyone know who knew Max well enough to spot it. That was enough to make Draco more than intrigued with Brian, since Max didn't really bond with anyone.

_ _Max himself was a special case and honestly, Draco admitted to himself, one of his harder ones to ever crack, simply because of the sheer amount of emotional and mental trauma Mullen had been through. Draco reflected on how he first met Max Mullen and smiling, he would never forget it.

_ It was the warm end of summer of 2012 when they had met, quite by chance. Back then, Draco had been more involved in marches and rallies instead of being cooped up in stuffy board rooms and conference halls with the rich and powerful and in a way, he missed those purer times. The people he marched with were real. The people in the board rooms were cardboard cutouts. It was the third rally he had in Dawson City and it had been raining hard that day, quite unusual given the heat, the sky had been blue grey, the wind had been fierce and everyone had been soaked but they marched on, standing in front of city hall, peacefully carrying their signs. Draco and Barbara (he felt a pang of regret hit him thinking of his sister) had been leading the crowd, making sure everyone stayed calm. Odin's Spear hadn't yet rose up to become the ballsy group there were now under the current administration but they were a threat simmering in the background that year._

_ The governor had refused to come out and speak to the crowd nor would he address the grievances brought to him by Draco. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco had seen a figure, leaning against the brick wall of the building next to city hall, dressed in a tattered worn ugly grey hoodie, torn jeans and even with the hood up, Draco could tell it was a shifter and it was a face he had seen lurking around before._

_ The figure stood stock still, watching everything, not joining the protest but simply drinking it in, his blue eyes thoughtful and lost in the shadows of his hood. There was something about him, the way he was dressed, the dirty ripped clothes and the smell of blood on him, the smell of pain, that made Draco pause and he had asked Barbara to continue the speeches while he stepped aside for a moment._

_ Moving quickly, he had crossed the open space, working his way past the crowds and the moment the gray figure had seen Draco coming towards him, he had turned and moved, bolting into the shadows._

_ Draco had increased his speed, moving much faster than his size would belie and as he turned into the trash filled alleyway, he saw the dark figure already more than half way down to the other side and he knew that unless he took drastic action, the grey wraith would be gone. Something about the person in the grey hood was compelling and for reasons Draco couldn't answer to till this day, he pursued the young shifter, sprinting and leaping, dropping down in front of the young man, bringing him to a complete and rather sudden stop._

_ "I'm not going to hurt you but I've seen you at my rallies before. You never take part but you've been there. Who are you?" he asked, catching his breath as he stood up to his full imposing height. The grey hooded shifter refused to meet his eyes and instead seemed to be considering running the opposite direction but gave up and instead stood his ground, dropping into a fighting stance._

_ "Leave me alone." He snarled, his eyes flaring yellow in the dark of his hood._

_ Draco held up an open palm. "I'm not your enemy. I just want to know who you are."_

_ "Why? I don't matter. Its none of your business."_

_ Draco had frowned and carefully scented the young man before him. He smelled like water and wet fur, like he hadn't bathed in days. Draco smelled blood on him and his clothes seen up close were thin and ragged. His frame was thin and his voice shaky but the power in his emaciated frame was evident regardless. Flashes of information came with the scents: Soggy cardboard boxes, the spaces underneath buildings, squealing rats biting and nipping. Yelps of pain, fist fights in bars, beatings so severe that they had left residual trauma for days. The clatter of train wheels and long stretches of open lonely roads and deep below it all, blinding white fresh snow, ice and strangely fire and the chemical scent of propane and burned hair. Bloody seared hands, bandaged and tears of pain._

_ This young man had been through hell and was still trapped in it. He was broken, utterly so, so much that Draco realized he didn't even believe himself worth a name anymore._

_ Draco sighed and lowered his hand, and the figure seemed to relax lightly, not much but some and most importantly, he didn't run._

_ "My name is Draco Riley. I'm an activist and I also help people like you...help them get back on their feet. You know I can smell pain on you, your suffering. Let me help you. Its your choice but I'm here now, extending a hand. Its your choice if you want it."_

_ The figure in the ratty grey hoodie seemed to be taken back. No one had ever put it so bluntly before to him and no one had ever left the choice up to him. They had most likely taken pity on him and just assumed he had wanted help but Draco knew that this one wasn't like that._

_ Draco held out a hand again, this time lower, open, fingers extended._

_ The figure moved forward, slowly, cautiously, hesitated and then extended his own, carefully, gingerly taking Dracos and giving it a wary shake before pulling back._

_ "Now...what's your name or do I call you Hoodie?" Draco asked, a roguish grin tugging at the corner of his muzzle._

_ "My name..." the figure in the hoodie said carefully, as if he hadn't said his own name in many years. "My name...is Max Mullen."_

_ _ That night, Max had come home with Draco and Barbara and over a period of weeks had began to put on weight and his fur began to grow back in. It had taken them a short time to learn that Max couldn't shift into human form and Max himself slowly tried to put his past together for them though it was a difficult and painful journey of memory reconstruction from dreams and nightmares and memory and sometimes, all three blurred together. Using his name, Draco had been able to find out that Max was the son of a couple in Nome, Alaska, though whether or not that was their original home was undetermined. His mother had been a teacher and his father had been an oil pipeline worker.

_ _ A few months after Max came into the picture, Draco met Molly and had established a deep connection with her as well. Molly was a former FBI agent who had grown sick of the corruption she saw the top and wanted to be able to make a difference and so she had sought out Draco and his crusade, offering to be his personal assistant and body guard. Draco had taken her on and she had used her contacts to try and find out more about Max's family but to no avail. There were records that went back to Max's earliest school days, showing a history of him getting into fights with bullies and eventually the family pulled him out of school altogether.

_ _ Then there came that horrible night when Max was sixteen or seventeen, Draco thought, his heart hurting for Max then and now, while flashes of Barbara echoed in the room like a ghost. Terrible people had came for Max's family and they had taken everything the boy had ever known from him. There had been an explosion and Max was left with severe burns on his hands and arms, as well as memory loss from the concussion he had from being thrown clear. Max had told Draco that he remembered waking up in a hospital weeks later with no memory of how he got there with his hands and arms wrapped in bandages and the doctors not understanding that he would heal on his own had tried their best to help him.

_ _ He told them he had no memory of how he had gotten there and lied about who he was. To them, he was just another shifter that looked the same as any other and one night, during shift change, Max had snuck out of the hospital and had lived on the streets, migrating south ever since, never settling, never having a goal in mind, just wanting to get away from the memories that haunted him every night he went to sleep, the guilt, the rage, the fever of revenge that burned in him.

_ _ Molly did find one interesting record relating to Max and his family, a set of papers about the termination of parental rights but the papers were fragmentary and as far as they could tell, Max's family had no other children and there were no other records of them ever having done so. The records themselves were sealed and were only on paper which meant they couldn't be hacked or accessed remotely, meaning the only way to get them would be to get a court order and that meant more pain for Max so all them, Max included, had dropped it, and their summation was that at one point, Max's family may have been considering giving Max up for adoption to give him a better life but that was only speculation.

_ _ The next year Max had attended his first rally at Draco's side and again it was in summer but this time Rakinos had showed up and so had Odin's Spear.

A ghostly gunshot echoed and Barbara's ghost faded away. Over time, Max had distanced himself from the rallies, blaming Rakinos and his incitement for Barbara's death and Draco had moved away from them as well. Time went on and times changed, got more vicious, more violent. Draco had saw Max's aptitude for mechanics and creativity and had helped him set up his own shop and helped fund its restoration and for the first year, the upkeep until Max was self sustaining. That same year was when Ash, Draco's younger brother, stopped coming around and things changed so much.

_ _Draco shook his head and tried to get back on his original train of thought.

_ _ The bond between Brian and Max.

_ _Max was like a son to Draco. Over time, the two of them had grown closer and to see Max finally starting to come out of his shell a bit was encouraging. He suspected that perhaps Max found Brian more interesting than he let on and that in fact, he also suspected that there may be more than friendship between them, despite their differences and tense relationship at first when Draco had first met Brian.

_ _ If so, that was great. It meant Max might finally be stabilizing.

_ _ Brian himself, Draco mused, was a relative unknown factor. When Molly had done his background check, there was nothing to stand out. He was an average student in high school and college, though he never finished college itself. Had no prior criminal history, social media presence was sparing and seemed to indicate a moderate left leaning political view. The only dark spot on his record was the death of his father, Jacob Alan MacGregor.

_ _ Jacob had been a police officer with Carsonville City Police Department and had been on track to make detective due to his excellent track record. He had worked drug enforcement, homicide and interestingly, hate crimes. All public records of Jacob showed him as a human male with dark hair and green eyes with a friendly face and a strong jaw line. The official police records about his death were also sealed and not even Jackson had been able to crack into them, as if they had been deleted instead of locked and that made Draco wonder why. The public cause of death for Jacob was a drug bust gone wrong. What was there to hide about that? Tragic, yes, hellish on a young boy and mother who suddenly found their family torn apart but it made no sense as to why anyone would hide those records.

_ _Still, Draco had felt sorry for Brian and he had felt bad about not being able to give the boy any more concrete answers that he sought. Draco truly had never heard of a human surviving a shifter bite let alone becoming a shifter afterwards. It was a phenomenon that caused him much consternation to the point that he had reached out to Rakinos for help. Rakinos, despite their differences, was a genetics expert, far more than he and even combined with Raven's efforts, they still hadn't been able to provide any answers and so, Draco felt responsible for letting Brian down and now with the knowledge that his IT expert and his best friend both suspected Rakinos knew more than he was letting on and had actively set out to hide that data was eating at him. He had trusted him, welcomed him into his home, however briefly, hoping they could let old bygones be bygones.

_ How foolish I was._

_ _ There was a knock on the door.

_ _ He could hear through the wood and knew who it was.

_ _ "Come in, Molly."

_ _A second later, the door opened with as soft click and he heard her soft purposeful foot falls cross first over the hardwood and then become quiet as she walked onto the thick carpet of the rug. She appeared next to him a moment later and stood by his side, as she always did. He sighed and looked down at her, turning away from the window.

_ _"Something on your mind?" he asked gently.

_ _ Molly sighed. "We think we have a way to reconstruct what Rakinos tried to destroy. Jackson found a way to rebuild it but its going to be about 12 hours before we can see it. He's already started the process."

_ _ Draco nodded. "What do you think it is? Why would Rakinos do that?"

_ _ Molly shook her head, the moon light falling upon her pale skin and red hair.

_ _"I can't try to understand the mind of a psychopath, Draco and if I did, I'm afraid that to do so, we'd have to follow him into madness. Whatever he did, whatever he found in that lab, he thinks it will serve his own ends, whatever they may be."

_ _ "I agree. How's the security system?"

_ _ "Uncompromised to our knowledge."

_ _"Max and Brian?"

_ _"Raven has been trying to call them all day but neither one is answering their phones. I had Jackson ping their phones just in case and it looks like they've been in Carsonsville most of the day and are still there. I cross referenced the address and its Brian's mother's house so they aren't in any danger."

_ _Draco nodded. "Raven?"

_ _ "Angry at Max for not answering. Irrationally so. I think the two of them are up to something but it's a hunch. Did they say anything to you?" Molly replied.

_ _ "No but I've also suspected it. Something about the way they were talking when everyone was here last week. I just hope they know what they are doing."

*******

_ _ Dinner had gone amazingly well and Brian sat feeling as stuffed as he ever had been, feeling like no time had passed at all since he had last been home. Everything felt so normal, so safe and sane that the outside world and all its demons seemed to be trapped far away and it was almost so good, that it felt like his dad was going to walk through that door, only this time, in his mind, Brian saw not the human face but the werewolf that his father really had been.

_ _For some reason, this didn't bother him as much as it should and in fact, made him smile to himself a bit.

_ _ Before him, the steaming bowl of orzo pasta draped in steaming meat sauce, seared peppers and onions and melted parmesan was begging for more attention and so he gave it more, savoring the explosion of flavor. Next to him Max sat and he seemed to be enjoying him a bit more than usual, though still never quite breaking through the ice. His mother, was more than thrilled and had seemingly had a 180 degree turn from where she had been hours ago. Now, they all sat around the dining room table, laced with food and bread and drink as his mom told stories to Max from Brian's childhood, eliciting great embarrassment from Brian and gentle almost laughs from Max himself.

"Do you remember when you cut off your hair in third grade and insisted that I leave it the way it was? Your dad nearly busted a gut from laughing and I was mortified. But you went anyway." His mom, taking a steaming spoonful of the thick pasta. Max raised an eyebrow and looked over at Brian.

_ _"Well, it was a phase. I thought it was getting too long and it was a hot summer!"

_ _ "Honey, half your head was bald." Chris said laughing through a mouthful.

_ _ "Wouldn't be much of a problem now. I'd probably look like a dog with mange."

_ _ Chris giggled. "Or with fleas."

_ _Brian blanched and looked at Max. "Dude, are fleas a thing?"

_ _Max shrugged. "Wouldn't know. Never had em. Though there was this guy at the bar I always suspected having them. Real rangy type."

_ _Swallowing Brian filed that away for future reference. Fleas.

_ _ "So," Brian said, quickly changing the subject. "Dad's jacket in that box. What was that from? I never saw him wear it."

_ _ At that Chris's tone changed a bit but not in a sad way but drifted more into the realm of fond memory.

_ _ "That," she said, swallowing and smiling, "was another one of the reasons I fell in love with him. I didn't actually meet him directly on campus per se. See your dad had a thing for motorcycles and he was actually a motorcross driver for the Carsonville Dirt Devils. One of their best riders. That jacket was part of his uniform that he would wear. There was something about watching him on that bike, flying through the air, bouncing over the dirt, taking those daredevil turns that just...well...you know."

_ _"Wow. I never knew dad used to race dirt bikes. That's actually pretty cool."

_ _ Chris pondered. "That jacket should just about fit you now. You are about the same size he was then. You should try it on sometime. He would have wanted you to have it if we hadn't tried to hide so much. God I feel like such a bitch..."

_ _ "You aren't, mom. Relax. Its fine. I'm glad you told me. I feel like I've gotten to know him a bit better and you. You both sound like you were pretty bad ass back in the day." Brian told her honestly.

_ _ "We just did what we thought was right."

_ _ After a few moments of silence in which they wrapped up their dinner, Chris sat her spoon down with a clink and sighed, very full, and looked at Max.

_ _"So...Max...tell me about you."

_ _ Brian shot a look at Max who for a second, visibly stiffened but quickly hid it. He sat down his spoon and took a drink from the glass next to his bowl and cleared his throat.

_ _ "Well, there isn't much to tell. I'm a bit of a country boy I guess. Was born in Alaska, moved to Nome when I was a kid. Dad worked for Exxon laying pipes and my mom was a teacher."

_ _"That's fantastic! I've always wanted to go to Denali Park."

_ _ "It's beautiful up there. No matter what time of the year it is." Max told her, memories dancing behind his eyes.

_ _"What did your parents think about you moving so far south? I would have panicked if Brian pulled that."

_ _ Brian scowled at her gently, knowing she was taking a gentle dig at him living in Dawson City. Chris shot the look back.

_ _ Max shifted in his seat a bit and Brian saw his tail slap down hard , brushing the floor and noticed his ears tried to flatten but Max stopped them both.

_ _ "My parents passed away when I was seventeen so I was on my own for a while. I moved down to the lower forty-eight and honestly, I was in a bad space for a few years. Then I met Draco--"

_ _ "I'm so sorry...." Chris said quietly. "Wait. You mean Draco Riley, the activist?" Chris said, perking up as his words sunk in.

_ _ "Yeah. You know him?" Max asked warily but glad for a subject change.

_ _ "Not directly. Jacob and I attended a few of his rallies before he stopped doing them more or less. This was years ago before Brian was born. I don't think we ever met him directly but he was inspiring to watch. He seemed like a good hearted man." Chris told him.

_ _"Yeah. He is. He found me and took me in. Helped me get back on my feet and now I run my own mechanics shop on the lower east side in Dawson City. Make a decent living and its simple, just how I like it." Max finished. "Then this knuckle head showed up and turned it all upside down." Max jerked his head good naturedly toward Brian who felt his face flush warm.

_ _"How'd you two meet and how did all this come around?" Chris asked, sipping her tea.

_ _ "I'll let you tell this one." Max said, carefully side stepping that minefield.

_ _ Brian shot him a dirty look but dove in as best as he could.

_ _"Well you know that I work for the hospital. One night about two weeks ago we had a really fucked up druggie come in and he was out of his mind. He hurt some of the nurses pretty bad and me and Elijah were called in to take him out before he hurt anyone else. The doctors couldn't figure out what he was on but it was bad. We managed to get him out and the cops took him."

_ _ As Brian told the story for the first time to his mother, he felt the sharp pricks of regret and anger rise again but he wouldn't let them. His mom deserved to know. He knew that an exchange of truth wasn't complete unless both parties engaged and it wasn't fair for her to tell him everything and him to hold back the truth from her.

_ _ "That morning after our shift was over, I was walking home and I was jumped by the druggies gang members. I think the cop that took him in was on the take. They weren't happy I'd helped taken down one of their own."

_ _ "Jesus Christ Brian...what...you could have died..." Chris said, her eyes going wide.

_ _ Everything he said now, he could feel was in a monotone, the monotone of memory.

_ _ "They hurt me pretty bad....I would have died if it wasn't for Max. He happened to hear the fight and he came and...well...he fought them off and saved my life. He did what he had to do to save me. They went after Elijah too...at his house. He didn't make it...."

_ _ Chris took that news in dumb founded silence, unable to form words. "What do you mean Max saved you? How is Ellie doing?"

_ _ "He bit me. Mom, I was dying. There was no way he couldn't have gotten help fast enough and he did the only thing he thought of. He didn't know if it would kill me or save me but at that point, there was nothing else to be done. It worked and I started healing. He carried me away from the fight scene and let me rest up and heal at his place. As far as Ellie goes, I guess she's okay. She's not talking to me much right now."

_ _ Chris face turned deathly pale. "Oh my god...."

_ _"But I'm fine I promise. A few days went by and Max asked a doctor friend of his to come look at me because we knew that something wasn't right. I was seeing things, hearing things and smelling things. The doctor, Raven, was one of my co-workers at work and I didn't know it going to be her that Max knew. She tried her best to figure out why I wasn't dead and what the changes going on in me were but she couldn't and then one night, I got restless and went out on my own and something happened....it all came together....and this happened." Brian said, indicating his fur and ears and tail.

_ _"I didn't know what I was doing and I think I almost hurt Raven and I did hurt Max."

_ _ Chris looked from Brian to Max.

_ _ Max shrugged next to him. "I've had worse."

_ _ "But Raven and Max took me to Draco's for a week and between the three of them they tried to help me adjust and so far, I've done really well. I just can't seem to master changing back and forth. It doesn't bother me as much now as it did at first, especially with what I know now about dad. It makes sense. They said that if I didn't have a dormant shifter gene, I would have died so in a way, dad saved my life."

_ _Chris was up from the table in a heartbeat and she flung her arms around Brian's thickly furred neck, squashing his ears flat to his head in a tight embrace.

_ _ "Brian...you could have died. If I had told you, maybe you could have been prepared but it doesn't matter. You're alive...that's all that matters."

_ _ Brian felt even his air way be choked off. "Mom...can't...breathe...."

_ _ Chris let go immediately. "Sorry..." She looked over at Max and went over to him, and even sitting down, he dwarfed her. She stood next to him and her eyes were moist.

_ _"You saved my son, Max. You brought him back to me, my only family I have that left that hasn't turned on me for loving his father."

_ _She moved in to hug him as well but Max pulled back a bit.

_ _"I'm not much of a hugger," he said sheepishly.

_ _ "I don't care. You are a miracle and I want you to know that."

_ _Before Max could protest, Chris moved in and threw her arms around his powerful neck as well, giving him all she had. Max resisted lightly for about half a second before stopping and giving in and in that giving in, he felt something inside him click that hadn't clicked in a very long time. He put his arms around Chris as well, careful not to hurt her.

_ _She spoke into his ear.

_ _"Max you are a hero and as far as I am concerned, you are a member of my family. Family isn't always who you are born to or who gets taken from you but sometimes the people you chose to let in and those who love you if you let them. You'll always have a family here."

_ _Max felt a strange feeling go through him, a warmth that spread from the back of his head down to his navel and for some reason, in those moments, the scars of the past didn't hurt so much and the pain diminished just by the absolute smallest amount. Flashes of his mother's embrace shot through his mind and he found suddenly that he didn't want to let her go just yet.

_ _"Thank you..." he said quietly as Chris pulled away and stood up, giving his shoulder a tight squeeze.

_ _As she stood there composing herself, Chris sighed loudly and tried her best to go back to normal.

_ _"So, you boys can have Brian's old room upstairs. I haven't changed much in there, just kept it clean. I did have some neighbors move my old bed into there. A king size just seemed just to big for me by myself anymore and I took your old queen, Bri. Should be plenty of room for you both. I'm not making you guys sleep apart like some puritanical old cunt."

_ _She moved around the kitchen, gathering bowls and plates and when Brian stood up to help her she shook her head. "No sir. You and Max take some time. I'm going to get my head on straight and cleaning helps me do that. I'll handle this."

_ _Brian went to protest. "But--"

_ _"No buts. Scat."

_ _Brian looked at Max apologetically. "No use arguing with her."

_ _"Damn straight." Chris yelled back at them good naturedly.

Chapter 10

It was well past eleven o'clock when Chris decided that she needed to crash and Brian and Max had followed not long after. After making sure the doors were locked, Chris herself kissed them both good night and even gave Brian a good scratch behind the ears which for some reason made his right foot want to jump around. She had laughed heartily at that and told them good night. Upstairs, Brian and Max were finally alone. As they entered the bedroom, Brian went in first and turned on the light.

He felt the strangest feeling of déjà vu looking around his old room.

_ _The room itself was the larger of the two bedrooms and like the rest of the house had rich wood paneling with white wallpaper and solid hardwood floors. It had a walk in closet and room enough for a good sized dresser, two night stands and of course the king size bed that his mom had given up in exchange for Brian's old queen. At one end of the room facing the end of the bed which itself faced the road and the front of the house was a large window. Crossing over to it, Brian closed the white blinds and drew the deep blue curtains closed. He switched off the main overhead light after twisting on the two bed side lamps, casting a warm gentle glow over the room.

_ _ The bed itself Brian had seen many times in his mom's room. For years she had kept it after his father died. It had been their marriage bed and to see it, knowing his father had been there and now, he was going to be there was odd and he couldn't pin down why. Max came in behind him and gently closed the door. His tall frame thankfully had plenty of room because the roof was peaked over this part of the house, otherwise his ears may have been touching the ceiling.

_ _"Good god what a day..." Brian said, sitting down on the left side of the bed facing the door, putting his head in his hands.

_ _ Max nodded. "Yeah that much I can agree with. On the other hand, I do like your mom. She's pretty cool." Max put a reassuring hand on Brian's shoulder.

_ _ Brian looked up and smiled at him as Max crossed the room, idly looking over the odds and ends he found.

_ _ He picked up a stack of old comic books. Brian recognized them. Those things were thirty years old by this point and he had spent many hours during rainy days deeply absorbed in them.

_ _ "Guessing you never really got a chance to get into comics." Brian said leaning back, placing his hands on the bed as he stretched out his legs.

_ _ Max shook his head. "Not really. I did like the X-Men though. Read a few of those."

_ _ "Huh. Which one was your favorite? Character I mean?" Brian asked, surprised a bit.

_ _Max chuckled low in his throat as he came back to the bed.

_ _ "Beast."

_ _ Brian smirked sardonically. "Of course. Who else. I thought you were going to say Wolverine."

_ _ "You'll find I'm full of surprises." Max chided him gently.

_ _ Brian kicked off his boots and pulled off the brown over shirt and sat there for a moment before tossing them both in a pile next to the headboard. He was too tired to really care about being neat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max lift up his shirt and pull it off, and found himself staring at Max's broad thick back and loving the way his muscled arms bunched as he moved.

He followed suit, standing up as he did, tossing his shirt into the pile and unbuckled the belt and soon his pants followed, leaving him standing only in his black trunks.

_ _Max simply shucked off his warm up pants and stood there in his Under Armor compression trunks.

_ _ "I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing that," Brian said gently.

_ _ Max's eyebrows went up. For a moment he looked confused and then he understood when he followed Brian's eye line to his crotch.

_ _ "You're delusional." He said playfully. "But I have to admit, I know what you mean." He returned Brian's stare and Brian felt his face flush.

Brian studied Max's underwear a bit more. "I don't think I've seen you wear those yet. What kind are they with that little loop in the back?"

Max paused and looked down, snapping his waistband. "These? Specially made for us furry folks. Fabric wicks away moisture and is sewn so that it doesn't rub our fur the wrong way. The loop in the back as you could probably see is a loose elastic band like a scrunchie for our tails. Helps prevent pinching."

Nodding, Brian replied. "Pretty smart. I need to get me some. These trunks having been riding up for a while."

Throwing back the blankets, Brian hopped into the bed and slid under the clean white cotton sheets. Max approached the bed warily and gave Brian a look.

_ _ "What's wrong?"

_ _"This bed....will it hold us?" Max asked, standing there.

_ _ Brian shrugged. "It should. Its not a traditional slat bed but and interlocking steel support. Should be good for a lot. Hop in. I need some fur."

_ _ Max grinned and slid in next to Brian pulling the blankets up to his midline. For a moment, Max lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Brian did the same, just letting the day work its way out, his mind turning circles within circles with all the information that was running through his head.

_ _Brian felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over at Max. With a grin, Max motioned him over and Brian moved, sliding across the sheets, laying his head on Max's chest and a moment later, Max's arm fell behind him, holding him close.

_ _"We need to shower." Brian said, sniffing.

_ _Max almost laughed at that. "Yeah we probably do. Is it bad?"

_ _ Brian sniffed again, this time burying his face into the fur near Max's under arm, eliciting a small bit of a squirm out of him and a chuckle. He inhaled Max's musky scent and felt a part of himself stir. "Actually, not really. Its kind of enticing at this level. I think we'll live."

_ _ "Good."

_ _ For a while and Brian wasn't sure how long, the two of them lay there, in the dark, the thrumming of the central air unit cycling and the sounds of the house as it settled in for the night: The gentle hum of the refrigerator; the sound of water moving through pipes. The creaking as the wood expanded in the heat of the night. It was so familiar it was going to lull him to sleep if he kept listening.

_ _ Max was gently massaging Brian's upper shoulder with his thick fingers and it felt wonderful, the deep pressure working the tension out of the muscle there.

_ _ Sighing he nestled deeper into Max's fur, feeling his hot skin there.

_ _"That feels great. You'll have to let me do that for you some time..." Brian said sleepily.

_ _Max grunted. "I'll take you up on that. Did you find out what you came here to?"

_ _Yawning, Brian took a moment to think. Had he found out what he needed to know?

"I think I did. I thought I knew my mom and dad so well but really, I didn't know them at all it seems like. There's just so much more to them. I guess growing up they were just THERE, you know? I guess I never saw them as fully human as me and you."

He felt Max nod and felt his muzzle tickle the edge of his ear as tilted his head to reply.

"I don't think of us really see our parents for who they really are. We see them as God, but really they're just like us. Hopes, fears and dreams. We just never get to see it because I think they give all that up for us."

_ _ A look of realization lit up on Brian's face and he pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Max, meeting his blue eyes with a look of wonder.

_ _ "You know, you are far more philosophical than you let on."

Max smirked. "Tell anyone and I'll have to kill you."

_ _Brian poked him in the ribs with a thumb. "I'll take my chances."

_ _Max reached up with his thick neck, boosting himself up a bit as well, pressing his thick furred body against Brian's and met Brian's lips with a gentle deep kiss that lasted far longer than either of them measured. He laid back and smiled contentedly.

_ _ "I've needed that all day," he said. Brian nodded.

_ _ "Me too."

_ _ Brian settled back into his spot at Max's side and thought for a while.

_ _ "That explains a lot of strange things," he said, looking up at Max.

_ _ "Oh?" Max asked, his hand working the muscles in Brian's back, rubbing out the hardness there. Brian winched as he hit a sore spot just above the small of his back where his tail was.

_ _ "Yeah. Family reunions were always tense and I never really knew why. My cousins never were allowed to play with me much. I guess it makes sense now in retrospect, they were afraid of me. I didn't care for the reunions anyway and was glad when they stopped."

He felt Max shift his legs a bit and then Max nipped his ear gently before letting go.

_ _"So you never really got close with your aunts or uncles?" he asked as Brian ran a hand over Max's stomach, swirling his fingers absently around Max's navel.

_ _ Brian shrugged. "Not really. I really wasn't a people person I guess. My mom's brother Donnie is an idiot. Religious nut cake. He and I used to get into screaming matches after I was old enough to understand what he was peddling. Didn't have any aunts."

_ _ He felt Max's grunt of reply through Max's chest.

_ _ "I didn't really get to know much of my family either. I guess we have more in common than we thought."

_ _ Brian nodded. "I guess it comes down to quality over quantity in the end."

_ _ Max's hand had slipped lower, his hand sliding under Brian's waistband to just below his tail at the top of his butt cheeks. As Max rubbed the thick muscle there, Brian felt his legs quiver.

_ _"Damn, I didn't know I was that sore." He said, arching his back a bit.

_ _ "We sat most of the day. I'm surprised you're not hurting worse than you are," Max replied as he switched cheeks.

_ _"Fair point."

_ _ Brian felt himself begin to drift off until Max worked his hands up under his tail and then he felt something else altogether, a very pleasant shudder running down his spine causing him to groan a bit deeper than he realized.

_ _ "Hey now..." he said. He heard Max chuckle in his ear.

_ _ "What, I'm not doing anything."

_ _ Brian pushed his hips forward a bit into Max's oak banister of a thigh and Max felt the rock hard pressure there and realized just what he was doing. He almost laughed again as he slowly stopped.

_ _"Tease." Brian told him, nipping him gently with the corner of a fang.

_ _Max jumped reflexively and gave Brian a good squeeze.

_ _"Its only teasing if I don't ever intend to finish."

_ _Brian acknowledged that was a fair point. "Well hey you...let's finish that when we get back to your place when we aren't so tired."

_ _"We're gonna have to." Max said and with a grin, he pulled Brian's hand over and pushed it below the blankets.

_ _Brian cupped his hands around Max and found that he was sporting a rock hard erection through the sheer fabric of his compression shorts.

_ _Brian gave him a hard squeeze and pulled his hand back. "It's a deal. Let's get some sleep because we should head back in the morning."

_ _Max scooted over and gave Brian a bit of room as they snuggled down into the blankets settling into their sleep positions.

_ _"I agree." Max said with a yawn, revealing his massive fangs.

_ _"Night, Max." Brian said as he felt Max settle down beside him. He could definitely get used to sleeping like this and genuinely hoped there was more of it to come.

_ _"Night, pup."

******

The dream had changed.

The snow fell in slow motion, drifting down towards a thick blanket of ice and powder that had turned into sharp dust. The pine trees stood dark and thick against a midnight sky as pin pricks of stars extended as far as he could see. He was standing in the thicket clearing just before he got to his house but this time, he was totally naked. He had no gear on. No clothes, nothing to shield himself from the cold. The cold knew it and drove at him even harder, digging deep into his thick fur, screeching in pained silence raking his skin beneath it, making his teeth chatter and the tears from the pain of it that were welling up at the corners of his eyes freeze as they fell into tiny gems.

_ Max threw his arms around his chest to try to shield himself and stay warm, his ears and tail fluttering in the winter storm. He looked his hands as he moved and he knew that those were not his hands, at least not his hands now. These were the hands of his seventeen year old self. Lifting his head, his blue eyes not glowing with their typical night vision yellow, he looked out of the clearing. Through the storms ravages, he saw his home, a beautiful two story log home his father and mother had designed and built together with him over a year. Not that he could do much back then, more than carry stuff to his dad and the few people that came to help them build it. The big windows were ablaze with the warm glow of the lights and lamps inside and smoke drifted up from the chimney._

_ There were no men in black robes, no shouting and frowning, knowing even in his dreams he was remembering and hated it, Max forced himself to step forward, the frozen ground nipping and biting at his bare feet, the crystals stabbing painfully into his foot and toe pads with every crunching step._

_ Around him, no matter how hard the wind blew, the trees did not bend and sway and the stars began to revolve in the night sky faster than they should have throwing crazy lights to dance upon the ground. Shivering from the excruciating cold, he stepped out of the clearing and into his front yard. There were no other houses for a few miles and so, it was a alone here in the open fields with a single gravel driveway buried under the snow that led out to the main road._

_ The little solar powered lights that lined the driveway shone under the snow like the lights of a sinking ship already condemned to the depths of the sea._

_ Eric Mullen was outside and he was standing facing someone. A huge someone, someone that dwarfed even his father's tall broad frame. His father's dark grey fur and silver blaze, so much like his own, was encrusted with ice and snowflakes, his eyes were livid, burning yellow in the dark, and his fangs were bared, hands thrown up as if in defense._

_ The other figure loomed above him and was made of twisting burning shadow with streaks of shimmering red. Its body was massive; its arms screamed with power and its raised open hand, fingers spread, claws splayed, hung in the air, ready to fall at a moment's notice. Its face was lupine, much like mine, Max thought, but far too large, ears too pointed, neck too thick. He couldn't make out its true features and they swirled there, just out of sight in the smoky crimson flame that made up its form._

_ There was something strange about the figures. It took him a second to see that they were both frozen in time. As Max came closer, stopping mere feet away, he saw that they weren't really frozen but were rather moving so slowly as to be almost imperceptible. He stood, watching a new scene take on something he had seen a thousand times before but this was different. Always before there were men in dark robes, faceless and meaningless with hate. Now, there was simply this lone monster._

_ He knew his father's fate but had never seen him before it befell him. If he could move fast enough, if he could shove him out of the way, if he could change things, then this time, this time, maybe, things would be different. His heart thudding in his ears, not caring about the cold, Max moved. He feet dragged, like they were in cement. The moment he made to move to intervene, he found himself snared by whatever force was holding the two figures before him in suspended time. He was half way between his father and the menacing demon when he felt himself stop entirely. In that moment he heard voices, or rather a voice that echoed, forever stuck in a loop._

_ Eric's terrified and defensive yell._

_ "DIANA GET OUT OF HERE!"_

_ Max looked up, only his eyes moving, tracking up the side of the house to the second story and there he saw frozen in time like they were below, his mother with her dark hair and saw that her wonderful eyes wide in fear and surprise. The same eyes that had brought him comfort and solace in the darkest days of his young life and now they were seeing the destruction of their entire family and life and in those eyes, Max saw just how helpless she was._

_ He knew her fate as well but not if he could change it in this strange new moment._

_ Looking back down to his father he saw movement at last._

_ Eric's eyes slid towards him and from his mouth came one word. Never before had his father been alive at this point in his memories or nightmares and Max heard the word as clear as day._

_ "Run."_

_ Max saw movement and then he finally saw the face of the shadowy crimson monster. It turned its fang lined muzzle towards him and there in its burning scarlet eyes, he saw its true face._

_ His own, covered in blood so red that it turned his fur scarlet._

_ Max felt his eyes go wide as the raised clawed hand finally fell like a sledgehammer and it caught him directly in the face._

_ Stars and suns exploded like novas and he felt every bit of the pain as it threatened to split his skull. He heard himself yelp in pain, felt a hot spray of blood as his muzzle was split open four ways as the blow jarred his head so hard he thought it was flying off but no, it wasn't his head that was sent flying but rather his entire body. The snow rushed up to strike him in the face and a momentary blackness overtook him as searing hot pain dulled into a numbness. He opened his eyes, blinking away tears and blood, his ears bleeding, as he watched the figure fall upon his father._

_ The struggle was brief but explosively violent. His father never stood a chance and never did._

_ In seconds, the looming smoky crimson version of himself with its red eyes held his father's body above the pristine snow, painting it red. His father was still alive, barely, his immune system trying to repair the damage that had been done and it would have succeeded had it not been for the figure placing its free clawed hand upon Eric's chest and digging in with its fingers. Max heard his father struggle and then finally heard the ear piercing yelping scream of agony that lost all semblance of humanity before his father's body jumped once, twice and then went limp as the smoky red monstrosity pulled its hand back._

_ Something was in its hand, something oblong and round, something wet and damp with scarlet. Yanking Eric's limp body close, the monster seemed to whisper something to him and then tossed him aside, dumping his body in the snow like a rag doll._

_ It crushed whatever was in its hand and tossed the remains on the ground with their owner with a sickening splat that was far too loud._

_ The smoky red figure now burned as flames began to lick off of its shoulders. It looked back and saw Max laying on the ground. Max couldn't stand. His legs weren't responding. Everything seemed so far away now as gravity seemed to chain him to the ground._

_ He wanted to scream, to cry to do anything but his dazed brain wouldn't comply, couldn't comply._

_ All it would allow Max to do was watch as the figure raised a smoking flaming hand and lay it against the side of the house with a searing sizzle._

_ The wood there charred, turning black, and a moment later, with a snarling whoosh, flames erupted. The fire crawled quickly, engulfing the entire bottom floor. The house screamed as wood protested the increase in heat and glass exploded. The figure reared back one of its massive legs and kicked down the front door with a spray of sparks and flame, shattering the doorframe into splinters, ducking through to the inside of the house that was now a raging inferno._

_ Max knew where he was going. There was only one place for him to go. _

_ "N-n-no...." he grunted, forcing the words out, spitting out blood. He tried to get to his feet and failed, collapsing back to the icy ground. Nearby, his father's dead body leaked crimson, staining the snow a cherry red._

_ Growling in frustration, Max pushed harder and still he couldn't get up._

_ He heard his mother's voice, heard her speak words he couldn't make out because his ears were still ringing, his face still burning._

_ Finally, he heard her scream._

_ Summoning everything he had, Max put his hands up under himself and shoved, ordered, screamed at his body to move._

_ It moved an inch._

_ A sound was building in him, one that he would never make again in his entire life. It was a sound of desperate consuming rage, a primal snarl, a growl of defiance as he stood at last, the snow tumbling off his body and when he stood, he was his thirty-nine year old self, no longer the child that he was._

_ He bolted for the collapsed front door of the house as time resumed its flow. The flames had begun to lick at the upper floors. The house was going to be a total loss he knew but his mother. He could not sit here. Could not simply watch._

_ The door was blocked by burning wood and debris. That thing that wore his face had done extreme damage but the fire itself was moving unnaturally fast. The house was falling apart. There was no way through._

_ Max growled in desperation, knowing the back door was covered in snow up to the roofline. The windows were pockets of searing hot flame._

_ The doorway beyond the fallen debris was clear. He could see the stairs leading up to the second floor._

_ Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the debris, shoving it, pushing it, pulling it._

_ The sound of his own flesh searing and cooking as it made contact was lost to him a tiny wet hiss. He smelled burning fur. He didn't care. The debris didn't move._

_ Snarling in rage and frustration, he rammed the mess with his shoulder._

_ All he got for his trouble was sheer agony as the flames bit into the thick meat there, grilling away his fur there in a great black patch of burnt hair._

_ Finally he gave in to his rising adrenaline and slammed the debris again and this time, it exploded inward, clearing the way to the stairwell. He nearly fell through as he moved, barely catching himself._

_ He moved, feeling his feet cook on the red hot wood like a hamburger at a cook out, he didn't care. Max could feel the pain radiating up to his knees, could smell it, taste it even, but nothing mattered. The living room floor had collapsed and through the hole, he could see the propane tanks in the basement, sitting under a pile of flaming crossbeams and burning memories. His first grade pictures. His mother's paintings. His father's tool set that he had taught Max to use. All of it was lost to the inferno. Max could hear a whistle coming from below but had forgotten its importance as he bounded up the stairs, his body screaming for mercy, his hearing dampened. He knew had a concussion. Maybe worse. Everything seemed so quiet and so loud at the same time with an odd ring to it and his vision was blurry._

_ There, at the top of the stairs, he saw his parent's room at the end of the hall, the door was open, the flames having not reached this part of the house but every second the floor grew hotter, the air thicker, harder to breathe. Smoke was beginning to turn everything black._

_ The figure stood over her limp body and looked up at Max._

_ It still wore his face, its eyes burning scarlet; the things smoky fur had turned a deep blood red maroon._

_ The creature looked at him like he was nothing and without a word, it turned and leaped, crashing through the window and vanishing into the night. It smiled, he thought._

_ Max ran into the room, skidding on his knees to his mother's side._

_ Diane Mullen lay in her favorite pair of jeans and her loose around the house sweater. Her shirt was stained red from the torrent that had poured from her throat and Max grabbed her and held her to him, whimpering like a child, his cries useless he knew but unable to help himself regardless. He used his hands to try to stem the flow from the ugly red gash that had been torn in her throat. She was alive but barely, and her breathing was already slowing down._

_ "Mom...mom...no...not this time..." Max heard his voice say as if he was far away listening to himself from another room._

_ Diane's eyes fluttered open and she seemed to see him and tried to raised her hand to his face. Max took it and held it as her eyes grew distant, seeing some farther shore. She spoke to him, her voice terribly shaky, and quiet, smothered by her own life being drained out of her._

_ "...Love....you...Max..."_

_ Her eyes glazed and the light went out of them, winking as if they were a sun that had burned out all its fuel and finally had gone dark in the cold depths of space. The life that was in her body fled and her arm went limp in Max's grasp._

_ Max felt himself pull her hand to his face, just to feel her touch one last time, felt his eyes sting as tears fell and he wept, whimpering as he did, his chest heaving and falling._

_ The whistling sound grew louder and more insistent._

_ Max lifted his eyes to the hall way, looking out towards the living room, and suddenly remembered that the propane tanks in the basement had a safety valve on them to vent in case of increased pressure or heat to avert an explosion._

_ With an enormous roar, the world went white, the red then orange. He felt his mother's touch be ripped away from him as he was picked up and thrown through the wall of the house, smashing out through thick timbers, insulation and burning studs. Glass rained down and the night lit up for miles as the fireball finally consumed the house, the propane tanks finally unable to stand the pressure any longer as they gave in to the hellish fury inside them._

_ The ground itself shook violently and the trees closest to the blaze were seared free of their branches._

_ Max felt a dozen tiny fires all over his body, eating at him as he flew and finally he smashed down hard in the snow, a good hundred feet from the house itself, the icy fluff cascading around him like a mini avalanche._

_ He heard something crack and lights exploded in front of his eyes and at the precise moment his head crashed into the thick rock, the same one that his skull had just smashed into buried under the snow, the world went black._

_ _ Gasping for breath, Max woke, sitting straight up in the bed.

He was drenched in sweat, panting, his eyes blazing yellow, pupils wide and afraid.

For a moment, he was disoriented and looked around wildly to get his bearings.

Wood floors, white wall paper, an old dresser lined with knick knacks and a stack of old comic books.

Slowly, he caught his breath as he remembered where he was.

It was 2018, not 1996, and he was in Carsonsville, not Nome. He was in Chris MacGregor's house with Brian not lying unconscious in a snow field as his childhood home burned behind him.

Collapsing against the headboard, Max put his head in his hands. He felt moisture around his eyes and angrily wiped it away. Letting his hands fall, he started into the darkness, the dream hanging with him like the chemical smell from the chemical plant when they'd first arrived. It penetrated him, poisoned him and sickened him. It was different. For as many years, it had been the same nightmare, the same dreamscape over and over and now, it was different.

The dream had changed.

"Brian...?" he asked quietly in the dark, reached out and looked down at his left and frowned.

The space Brian had been occupying was gone. There were simply rumpled sheets and a pillow with a shape indented on it that was vaguely like that of Brian's head.

Swallowing, Max swung his legs over the edge of the bed and in the dark, found his pants and pulled them on hastily. Moving as quietly as his large frame would allow, Max opened the bedroom door, hoping it wouldn't squeak and stepped into the hallway. The lights were out in the house and he could hear Chris in her bedroom below, snoring lightly, like a sleeping cat. The security system hadn't been tripped and nothing else looked askew.

Sniffing a few times, Max tried to find Brian by scent and there it was, that earthy scent like warm sunlight. Feeling relieved, he followed it down the stairs and then down the hall way, the floor creaking gently beneath his weight.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, Max shook his head. His fur was rumpled and he had dark circles around his eyes, even through the fur on his face.

Like a ghost.

The scent led him past the hallway and turned right to lead to another door, one that led to the backyard. The main door there was open and the white metal screen door was closed. Through it, Max saw the backyard itself for the first time.

It was a wide open space, generous given the size of the house and was completely enclosed in a tall wooden privacy fence. A single large tree grew up in the corner of the yard, throwing shade over a picnic table and grill. There were a few solar powered garden lamps and a bird bath set aside to the left. There, sitting on the table under the tree, was Brian.

Opening the screen door, Max stepped barefoot out onto the cement patio, closing the screen door gently behind. As he stepped out onto the grass of the yard, the blades tickling his feet, Brian didn't look up and he was apparently lost, deep in thoughts only he could know. Max approached carefully, not wanting to startle him, the warm gentle night breeze picking up his fur on his bare chest and belly like the fingers of an invisible and gentle lover.

In the dark, Brian's fur was so black that if it hadn't been for the moonlight, Max could have easily missed him, even with his night vision. It looked like just a white shirt floating in the dark. Brian's eyes stood out brightly in the dark, twin gleaming green circles, his pupils large in the shadows. Those eyes slid towards him and Brian sighed, his tail unconsciously wagging just the slightest before settling down, his ears pricking towards Max.

"Hey, Max."

Max nodded gently. "Hey. Mind if I sit with you?"

Brian shrugged. "Plenty of table."

Max came up and got up next to Brian, sitting comfortably on the aged wood as it creaked a bit under their combined weight.

For a while, both of them sat there, in silence. Brian himself was only partially dressed in his white t-shirt and black trunks. It was obvious he had been awake a while, Max thought. Brian turned to him and looked him up and down.

What he saw alarmed him. Max's fur was rumpled and his eyes were wild, as if he had seen a ghost, and more, there was pain in his eyes, like a fresh wound. The fur around the corners of Max's eyes was wet and it was obvious that he had been crying.

Brian reached out immediately and put an arm around Max's broad shoulders.

"Hey...what's wrong? You look awful..."

Max shrugged, pushing the fur back up and out of his eyes. "Tell me about it."

Brian half grinned. He gave Max's shoulder a soft squeeze. "Dreams?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. Same one but...this time was different."

Brian frowned and let Max's shoulder go as they sat together in the dark under the tree. "How?"

Max sighed and tried to explain. The more he spoke the more his voice shook.

"I don't know...it was so clear this time. There weren't any people in robes...no metal claws...I was alone...and it was me that killed my parents and burned my house down. I can remember seeing my dad up close this time...he was alive until...until I or something like me...killed him. Then it went after my mom and Brian I can remember her hand on my face..."

Brian could feel the shakes slowly start to go through Max's big body. Max hung his head.

"When your mom hugged me earlier...it was like my mom was alive again...for the briefest moment....I didn't' want to let her go."

In the dark, Brian, for the first time since he had known Max, saw something he never thought he would see.

Max was the tough guy, the fighter, the beer drinking mechanic who took no shit from anyone.

Max, he saw, was trying to hold back his emotions and despite it all, the corners of his eyes had turned silver with moisture.

Tears. Max was crying and trying desperately not to.

Reaching up, Brian wiped away the tears that had formed there and he took Max by the chin and gently brought Max's head up to face him, eye to eye.

"Max...look at me....please..."

After a moment, Max did and for a chance, his eyes weren't blazing yellow in the night but had turned back to their ocean blue. Brian didn't know why and he didn't care.

"Its okay to feel. Its okay to grieve. Its okay to fight...let it out. You've fought these monsters so long its no wonder you dreams finally changed...you've been blaming yourself for so long its tearing you apart. I'm here and I can't take it away but I'm going to have your back...or your face. Which ever I can reach first." Brian said, choking up a bit himself as he tried to smile. Seeing Max like this was hard, far harder than anything Brian had felt in a long time.

Max smiled a bit or tried to anyway.

"Thank you."

Brian tugged and Max came forward and laid his head onto Brian's shoulder and for a while, there in Brian's arms, in the shadow of an old oak tree surrounded by sprigs of purple pink heather, Max did cry and Brian held him, neither speaking and neither needing to.

Time passed and finally Max's tears faded and he sat up, looking Brian in the eyes, deeply searching for something that he had at long last found.

Coming together, the two of him embraced followed by a long passionate kiss that wasn't sexually charged but rather charged with the warmth and radiance of passion born of standing together.

"Why do you put up with me? I'm a wreck..." Max asked after, shuffling his feet on the picnic table seat.

Brian shrugged and put a hand on Max's. "Because I care and you've been there for me. You saved my life. It's the least I can do is to save yours. I care about you a lot."

Max sniffed. "So...what are you doing out here?"

"Just thinking mostly, about my dad...who he was...and who I am. I feel like I know a story now that I only half knew before, like it was whispered to me and I only caught the faintest edge of its dream..." Brian told him, as Max leaned up against Brian, his big head resting on Brian's shoulder.

"Yup, you're a writer." Max said with a chuckle.

"You know you can laugh, sometime, right?" Brian told him gently. Max snorted. "Maybe some time, I will, when I feel like I don't have so much weighing me down..."

Brian nodded with a tiny chuckle of his own. "Then it's my personal mission to help you lift that weight one day at a time because I want to hear what it sounds like. I like your voice. I can just imagine what you sound like guffawing like a lunatic."

"A lunatic is right."

More time passed between them, each one just enjoying the others company, each one's individual pain becoming lessened around the other. Eventually, each breath from the other fell into sync together and Brian could hear their heartbeats in tandem.

"I came out here," Brian said to Max quietly, "to find myself. Ever since the change, I've felt like something was wrong with me in my head. What I saw in my head wasn't what I saw the in mirror. I mean, don't get me wrong, its turned out to be a blessing and I'm starting to like it but...there was always something off seeing myself as not myself...if that makes sense."

He felt Max nod his head. When he spoke, Max's gruff but now gentle voice was in his ear. "I imagine it was confusing as hell...like your identity had been taken away."

"Yeah. I felt like I didn't know who I was anymore and then I found out about my dad today...and everything changed. Now I know it's a part of me as much as that old image I had in my head of who I was and what I was. I feel like the pieces in the puzzle are almost together again. I can almost see myself, Max."

He felt Max's head come off his shoulder and he turned to meet his now glowing yellow gaze again. Brian wondered if emotions could impact their abilities as shifters and he thought it made sense.

"I wonder...if now that you can see the pieces if you could try shifting again. See if it helps." Max suggested.

Brian thought about that. The idea was intriguing but at the same time he had tried so hard for days at Draco's and failed. He had gotten so frustrated, so annoyed and Brian was well aware that failure was one thing he didn't take well.

What I really am, is afraid, he thought. Afraid to fail again. Afraid to go through so much pain again.

"I don't know, Max..."

Max sat up, and put a hand on Brian's back. "I think you could do it. You've got all the pieces now...just gotta put them together and make a picture."

He pulled Brian into a quick hug. "I believe in you, like you do in me."

Brian sighed. What the hell, huh. "Alright. I'll give it a shot."

Boosting himself off of the table, Brian dusted his hands off on his hips and walked about three feet out from the table. He stood, just outside the shade of the tree, under the silver light of the moon and stars. Closing his eyes, Brian thought back to the days at Draco's when Draco and Raven had both tried to teach him how to shift his form.

"Relax. See in your mind your human face, the one you know, the familiar aspects of it. Release all the tension in your muscles, starting from your toes up. Let go. Breathe." Draco had told him, watching him carefully and nodded, gently, teacher to student as they stood on the warm sunlight grass of Forest Glen. Somewhere, Brian could hear Roy's lawn mower going, the blades turning, whum whum whum in their metal shield. He closed his eyes and pushed past that sound, reaching inside himself for something he didn't know, a picture that was scrambled.

_ He could hear the beeps of Jackson as he tapped on his smart phone on the patio. Raven sat next to them, offering guidance as well. They had been at this for hours._

_ Brian breathed in deeply and let it out, trying to find his face in the darkness, flexing his toes and fingers, working out the tension there. The only face he saw in the dark was that of his wolf self and try as he might, nothing seemed to be happening._

_ "Damn it...nothing..." he spat, frustrated, throwing up his hands. Raven stepped up to him._

_ "You're trying too hard. Remember it should gentle, like flowing water. There's nothing in your genetic profile I've seen so far that says you can't. You've just got to visualize."_

_ "How am I supposed to visualize when the face I see now isn't mine? I've not seen my old face in over a week and it feels like its slipping away." He had replied dejectedly, kicking a clod of dirt out of the ground angrily._

_ "We are never truly lost, but sometimes we can get misplaced." Draco added and encouraged him to try again._

_ "Ok one more time..." Brian grumbled and closed his eyes again. He tried desperately to bring up his face, his human face and saw only jumbled pieces, like someone had taken a picture and smashed it into billions of bits that can never again make sense. He concentrated harder and the picture began to come together, bits fitting with bits, an eye forming, brown hair, the pinkish tinge of his skin._

_ There was a slight tingle at the back of his neck, like a nascent tickle waiting to be born and for a moment, it began to spread like warm heat down his shoulders and he felt his heart begin to pound._

_ This was it._

_ It was happening!_

_ The picture fell apart into shards and the feeling vanished with it, leaving him standing there, in the grass, feeling stupid, lost and utterly confused._

_ He snarled as he opened his eyes. "Goddamn....I just can't get this, guys. Maybe I can't change. I need some space...."_

_ He remembered the looks on Raven's face, the look of confusion while the look on Draco's older features was one of regret._

_ _ Now, standing in the shadow of the oak tree, alone, with Max, Brian once again closed his eyes.

He didn't know if that was needed or not but it felt like something that was right to do and he tried to clear his mind of all the little needling thoughts, the nagging doubts and whispers of his already set in stone failures.

In his head, Draco's voice came again.

"Relax. See in your mind your human face, the one you know, the familiar aspects of it. Release all the tension in your muscles, starting from your toes up. Let go. Breathe."

_ _ In his mind, Brian pulled up an image of himself, his true self and in the dark space of his mind, an image began to form. Slowly at first, its features defined only by shadow and lines and there it was, his wolf face, his muzzle, his snout, his eyes and ears.

He shook his head; that wasn't the right image.

Trying again, he pushed deeper in his mind, past the broken memories, past the death of his father, past his own fear and a new face began to form and when it did he felt his breath catch.

His father's human face.

So much like his own.

Brian wanted to hear his voice again so badly after so long. And, just like the ghost that he was, his father too faded away, leaving him in the deepest part of his mind, where no memories lived, only thought, feeling and color.

He sat there for a while, in his mind, feeling the darkness and invisible colors he knew were there. They tickled his fingers like fish in a pond, begging to be used to be lit up and shown. Twisting his hands on the mental plane, he took the colors by the tail and moved with them, directing them.

Externally, Max watched as nothing seemed to happen but something clearly was going on in Brian's head as his eyes were tightly closed in concentration but moving behind his eyelids, his ears pinned against his head, his tail twitching, the muscles in his legs quivering.

In the mental mind space, for all of Brian's efforts, nothing seemed to happen, even with all his energy and he sighed, about to surrender, to give in when suddenly he saw something he hadn't seen before. It had been hidden behind his anxiety, his apprehension, his pain and his fear but it was there none the less, finally revealed from his acceptance of his father's true nature, understanding that the wolf was as much a part of him as his human face and with Max there, Brian felt a surge of confidence he didn't have before. As this washed over him, the thing slid out from behind those feelings as he sat alone in his mental space.

It was a face.

A face that was familiar with its trimmed beard, amber eyes and short but messy brown hair.

He stood and approached it as it hung before him, a mirror image to his own wolf features. Raising a hand up to it, he felt it pull to him, call to him and he at last touched his own identity and Brian felt that warmth bloom at the back of his head and spread to his shoulders and this time, it did not fade away. This time, there was no pain.

As Max watched Brian, something indeed was happening. The fur on his body slowly began to ripple. Something about his face changed. His snout got smaller. His ears began to recede. A smile lit up Max's face as the process took over and Brian's entire body began to shift, changing, flowing like black water as the fur drew back into his arms and his form shrunk. His tail drew up and was gone.

His muzzle faded back into his skull and at last, Brian MacGregor, the scruffy looking bearded human that Max had first met weeks ago, stood before him again, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and trunks that finally properly fit again. His furless skin shone in the moonlight, the tips of his hair and bearded flared silver as the light passed through them. Max stood up and went over to him and when Max stood before the now very human Brian, Brian's eyes finally opened.

For a split second, his eyes were bright glowing green, and faded to white and then faded back in to the amber-brown that Max hadn't seen in a very long time.

With a sigh, Brian looked down at himself and felt his jaw drop open in shock.

"Oh my god..." he said touching his chest, his hips, his arms, holding up his hands in front of his face and there, past them, he saw Max, standing with a proud look on his muzzled grey-furred face.

"You did it." Max said smiling, his yellow eyes twinkling.

Brian laughed. He looked from himself to Max. He laughed again.

"Hell yes!" he cried happily.

Max crossed his arms and stood in the moon with Brian. "Never doubted you."

His voice seemed to break the reverie as Brian stopped and looked up at Max. Confusion seemed to cross his now human features and then a swift shadow of sadness.

"What's wrong?" Max asked, his arms falling a bit.

"Nothing its just...I'm different now. I don't know if I'm still what you wanted anymore. I can stay the other way but...I.."

Max shook his head and gently placed a hand on Brian's now much smaller shoulder and in that moment, he looked into Brian's eyes and dropped his walls, his barriers and protections.

"Brian...I don't care. You're still you. Either way....and I...."

Brian flinched, terrified of what Max was going to say.

"I...I think I love you." Max finished.

Brian felt his eyes go wide and the world swayed as he looked up at Max. He stepped forward and put his arms around Max, for the first time feeling Max's thick fur on his bare skin instead of fur to fur, enjoying the heat radiating out from Max's body, even the slight musky scent of him.

"I think I love you too."

Closing his eyes, Brian concentrated and this time, it was easier, simpler, the face came faster his eyes blazing green, and his body flowed, changing in Max's arms, growing without pain, as fur sprouted from his skin and in seconds, he stood, eye to eye with Max again in his wolf form, and took Max' head in his hands and together, their lips met under the starlight and the shade of an old oak tree.

The two of them stood, side by side, under the stars, each of them with an arm around the other's waist as they looked skyward and Max laid his head onto Brian's shoulder and Brian leaned into Max, their ears touching gently.

Neither of them heard the tiny footsteps come from the house and neither of them saw Chris MacGregor, standing quietly behind the screen door, watching them together, seeing them standing by side by side. For a moment, she felt the slightest pain, but it was the pain of a mother watching her child grow up in a way that was beyond her control but at the same time, it filled her with pride. A mother's pride and to see her son happy for the first time in many years brought a gentle smile to her face as she turned and went back to bed, giving the two of them their space.

Overheard, the skies turned and the stars cycled and time seemed to stand still, just for a little while.

Chapter 11

Rakinos stalked the hallways of the underground complex, his heavy foot falls echoing silently in the concrete tunnels. He held the cracked tablet with its screen flickering in his left hand at his side and honestly for the first time in years, he had been stunned into actual wordlessness. At first, when he first saw the results, he had felt a white hot rush of anger, rage so deep that it burned his blood but that faded not longer after the wheels in his mind began to turn. He had taken to walking while thinking, trying to sort through his thoughts and right now, he was passing through an area that had once been heavy duty storage rooms but now served as a makeshift prison. Most of the rooms were empty since he rarely allowed prisoners to be taken; in all his time as the leader of Lupine Freedom, it was not his policy to leave survivors especially if they interfered in his plans.

_ _ The fact that no one knew that he was the leader of Lupine Freedom and in fact was not simply a drug maker or a disgraced genetics expert pleased him greatly, for now. Of course, in due time, he would reveal himself and take the fight for the supremacy of his kind to the humans directly but for now, this revelation had thrown a significant monkey wrench into his plans and he didn't like it one bit. It was distracting. It was emotional. It was...annoying, he thought as he passed the only room that was currently occupied.

_ _ He heard noises behind the thick steel, scrabbling sounds and the long low moan of despair that was stuck somewhere between human and canine misery. Low whimpers and whines echoed in the room and then as he drew near, the sounds suddenly stopped.

_ _ Rakinos paused, knowing what was going to happen and waited for the inevitable, his scarlet eyes watching the door almost patiently.

_ _Behind the door there was a heavy scuffling sound as if something or someone had gotten to their feet quickly and was now approaching the door. Something heavy flopped against the steel a moment later, vibrating it silently and two yellow eyes appeared at the top of the door where a small window had been made out of steel mesh. The eyes were reddened around the whites, desperate, afraid, pupils wide and wet. When it spoke, its voice was weak, shaking and pleading, almost mewling.

_ "Please....kill me...let me die...."_

_ _ Something inside of Rakinos ticked. He hated mewling. He didn't even turn to face the door and said nothing as he began to walk away.

_ "No...please. Don't go. END THIS!!" _ The voice screamed, its voice going into a high pitched yelp of desperation.

_ _ Rakinos felt his temper flare and reared back his right hand, balling up his fist as he did. He knew the thing's face would be pressed directly up against the metal and struck there, his blow landing hard against the steel, hard enough dent it.

_ _ The sound of flesh and bone striking the steel reverberated through the halls.

_ _ There was a horrible sound, pitiful in its pathetic whimpers as the blow resonated through the steel and struck the occupants sensitive face. The whimpers became a scream of pure canine agony, a high pitched canine scream and the eyes shot away from the mesh. Rakinos heard it scuffle to the back of the room and moments later, heard the sound of sniffles and whimpers resume.

_ Better,_ he thought.

_ _ A guard up the hall glanced towards him and Rakinos didn't have to say a word as the guard wisely looked the other way.

_ _With a low growl, Rakinos made his way up the hall and finally settled in his office, the door hissing shut behind him, sealing him off mercifully from fools and the weak. He tossed the crushed tablet into the corner absently.

_ _Pushing up the arms on his black wooly, he opened a small cabinet and pulled down a heavy glass tumbler. He nabbed ice from the refrigerator on the counter and lastly grabbed a large bottle full of amber liquid with a black label on its side. As he sat at his desk he pondered the label.

_ _ Riley's Black Label.

_ _ It was one of the few alcohols made strong enough so that a shifter's metabolism wouldn't just give them a light buzz but rather allowed them to actually feel the full effects of the spirit in question.

_ _In this case, it was a derivative of bourbon, something to make the pathetic and more well known Kentucky clans jealous. Of course, he thought, it wasn't Draco that owned the company but rather his younger brother, Ash Riley. Ash Riley also owned the The Wolves Den, and Rakinos had taken advantage of the silent feud between the brothers as a means of accessing the club and keeping his ears on the cultural and political scene in the shifter community and so far, it had served him well. Once he revealed himself fully, however, he knew that connection would be cut off as cleanly as a limb with a laser scalpel.

_ _ Ash may not have been one for the politics but he wouldn't tolerate the truth once he knew it, Rakinos thought. As far as Ash knew, Rakinos was just a disgraced political figure and Ash had cornered him on his first night there and told him to keep the politics out or keep himself out. Rakinos had of course, feigned innocence and so far, it had worked out well. In fact, he relished the thought seeing the look on Draco's face when the truth came out because Draco had spent every waking moment of the last few decades combating what he considered Lupine Freedom's message of violence and resistance. The old fart, Rakinos thought as he poured the tumbler full of amber liquid, the ice floating to the top with a gentle clink.

_ _ The sharp anti-septic scent of the alcohol wafted up into his nose and he raised his glass, closing his eyes as he inhaled it, letting the smell warm up his taste buds as it flowed through him. When he at last took a drink, the liquid seemed to jitter and dance in his mouth like it was alive, bouncing swirling and finally going down with an appropriately powerful burn.

_ _ Setting his glass down, he shook his head and turned on his computer. As it loaded, he let his mind wander as the first hint of a buzz crept on him.

_ _ For years, Lupine Freedom had been a shadow organization and true to its nature, it stuck to the shadows, quietly installing shifters into high positions among the police, governments and high society. Its funds came mostly from illicit drugs, at least, in the beginning; cocaine paid very well, as did gun running. Their goals at first had been to control society through subversion, to drum up the spirit of the downtrodden and turn them into weapons for power and control, control that Rakinos could then direct towards his own ends which mainly consisted of the complete submission of anyone he felt was weaker and that, he thought sardonically, was a long list.

_ _ In the late 80s and early 90s, when the AIDS epidemic was at its peak and shifters who slept with humans were being blamed for it as well as the gay community, Rakinos had taken advantage of that chaos to really push for more assertive action, fanning the flames of hatred even more. He had selective news pieces ran, articles and opinion pieces in the largest papers, first in the New York Times and later, as they moved from state to state, smaller local ones. At last, the group had settled here in Dawson City and it was here, that Rakinos felt that Lupine Freedom had truly flourished.

_ _ The city itself was fertile ground for suffering. The people in the lower east and west sides were poor and miserable. The rich puffed themselves up, like cocks of the walk, shitting down upon anyone below them and called it trickle down economics. By the early 2000s, his reputation as a genetics expert in the field of lycanthropes was tarnished by several journalists that got a tad too close to the truth. Of course, those journalists never did quite make it out alive again and he wondered if any of their parts had ever been found.

_ _ 2005, he thought, had been one of their rougher years. That year, he had started to branch out into the more local opiate and black market pill trade for funding as well as to make connections to the local shifter undergrounds, pushing the boundaries of his empire out into Carsonsville, the wart on Dawson City's ass. He had found that like most medium size cities, Carsonsville was built upon a foundation of conservative values and with that came plenty of Jesus and with Jesus tended to come angry hateful people who hated anyone who wasn't like them or who refused to conform. The shifter community in Carsonsville was very subdued compared to Dawson City, with a few exceptions who didn't give a damn.

_ _ Rakinos had pulled the strings on that community tumor, cutting here, connecting there, and before long he had built a decent sized trackway through Carsonsville using it as a shipping point for his drugs and guns to distribute. Downcast and angry outcast shifters flocked to him and soon, the ranks of Lupine Freedom swelled, including the addition of John Carrey.

_ _ Rakinos took another deep drink and smiled, his red eyes simmering as he entered his password and let the biometric scanner read his iris.

_ _ With a beep and a whir the computer began to work.

_ _John Carrey had been angry, and Rakinos liked that. Anger was an understatement. John was young and angry and the fact that he was a walking tank was even better. Carrey had been a fighter for money and Rakinos had found him one night while scouting for recruits in the abandoned chemical plant shipping warehouses. The fights were organized by shifters who needed an outlet for their frustration, especially those less inclined to legal options. They were brutal and bloody with many shifters earning scars that took years to heal. The only rules in the fight club were no killing and no weapons.

Otherwise, anything was allowed and Rakinos had saw John, with his broad shoulders and blue-black fur and rage filled yellow eyes win many matches. He was savage in the ring, and he didn't dance around with his opponent and that was a valuable trait in an enforcer. Fights were not dances, not choreographed movie sequences. Fights were life or death and Carrey seemed to know that instintively. Rakinos had watched him break limbs, knock teeth out, and bloody his opponent so fast that the other guy (or girl, he wasn't picky) was often down before they knew what had fallen upon them.

_ _ Carrey had been so full of rage that Rakinos barely had to persuade him. When Rakinos told him his plans for shifter superiority, Carrey had taken off his shirt and brushed back the fur on his left side, revealing a deep ugly brand of twisted scars.

_ _He had been branded by a local religious group.

_ _ It had been easy to use that rage and now, Carrey, known by his stage name Brutus, had been by his side ever since. Carrey had been the leader of the attack that Rakinos had staged on the Library of Congress and ever since he had managed to get himself caught, Rakinos had been distant with him despite staging a massive and quite bloody prison break as Carrey was being transferred.

_ _ It wasn't long after Carrey had joined them that Rakinos had begun to suspect something was wrong and in his memory, he still couldn't quite pin point what it was that tripped him up. There was a small group of shifters that had sought him out at the fight rings, and had expressed an interest in joining. They said they had heard he was recruiting and that they had connections to local crack dealers who could help him facilitate his transport in and out of Carsonsville.

_ _One of them, a male with black fur and green eyes, never shifted out of his wolf form and Rakinos had found that odd but true to their word, the new group, consisting of the black furred male, a brown furred male and a single tawny female shifter, all wolf-like in their forms, had served well for months. They helped with several operations, including some enforcement missions before finally something happened that Rakinos found hard to ignore. Carrey had also been suspicious and one day had fruit of that poison tree.

_ _ Carrey had stormed in one day and threw down a newspaper onto the table that Rakinos had been working on, snarling in anger.

_ "We've got a problem."_

_ _Rakinos remembered looking up at Carrey in surprise for his boldness but when his right hand spoke, he usually listened.

_ "What?"_

_ _Carrey wasted no time, his ears flat against his skull as he snarled the words.

_ "Those new guys. At least one of them is a cop."_

_ _Rakinos had picked up the paper off of the guns he had been cleaning and read the article. It was a community puff piece about the town's history. In it, the author had talked about the history of the chemical plant, its effect on the local economy and of course, its positive impact on the city, despite the fact that for the first ten years of its operation it essentially poisoned the river and thus people's drinking water. He had skimmed down, finally seeing what Carrey was talking about.

_ _There it was. He read fast.

_ ".....Carsonsville may seem like a sleepy little city but has in fact an adrenaline filled past with the Carsonsville Motor Rockets, a motocross racing stunt team that was started in 1951 by Robert Alderman. The team competed in several interstate competitions and its rising star was Jacob MacGregor, a young lycanthrope born and raised right here in town. MacGregor was known for his daring stunts and break neck racing skills, bringing the team many trophies, including the regional championship in 1990._

_ For reasons only known to him, the next year, MacGregor much to the chagrin of his team mates, retired from racing and has since become a local fixture in Carsonsville City Police Department as a dedicated and trusted patrolman, though his shifting days seem to behind him..."_

_ _ As Rakinos had read, he remembered John's deep voice growling low as he spoke. John didn't need to speak. The photo of the shifter in the article dressed in his black racing jacket with red and white stripes, waving his helmet proudly, his fur gleaming black with his unique green eyes was more than enough to confirm Carrey's own suspicions.

_ "I already did some digging. I tracked down the reporter. She told me that he's still a cop and I ran the names the other two gave me. Fakes. We've got pigs in the house, Rakinos. We need to fix this now."_

_ Rakinos had looked up from the paper. _"The reporter?"

_ "They'll find her body in a week or two I'd imagine if the river doesn't carry it too far."_

_ _Shaking his head, Rakinos had told Carrey to bring all three of them to him.

_ _ 2005 was an interesting year, Rakinos thought. Very interesting in deed. Carrey had been right of course and after he disposed of the cops, he exposed a larger sting operation underway and had promptly eliminated every single potential leak he could find. The black furred one, MacGregor had died the slowest and the last, refusing to say a word but he died none the less screaming.

Rakinos had quickly packed up and shut down his operation in Carsonsville not long after, retreating to the safety of Dawson City and having learned a valuable lesson about carefully screening recruits, especially if they seemed to be angry.

_ _On his desk, the computer finally unlocked all the files for him that he had asked for and he already knew what he would find as he pulled up Brian Macgregor's file.

_ _ As he stared at the information, he thought Brian was such an average person, how MacGregor hadn't killed himself out of boredom Rakinos didn't know but was glad to finally put two and two together; who knew that a random cop he had killed years ago would have turned out to be the father of the very object of his desire now?

_ _ Ever since he had been asked to help analyze Brian's condition by Draco, ever since he had heard the name, Rakinos had felt a tickle of memory and it had taken weeks for it to finally surface. Now that it had, he felt that it was deliciously ironic that the cop that nearly exposed them had been also the same person to gift them with the greatest weapon Rakinos could ever have known.

_ _The son himself, as Rakinos previously thought, was boring. A security guard a local hospital after not being able to cut college; of course, Brian had tried to go after a degree in Criminal Justice but had dropped out two years in. Reasons given were personal and Rakinos suspected that it was daddy issues, which made him roll his eyes. The boy was just as emotional as his father had been when Rakinos was pulling out his fingernails, one by one. Brian had established himself as something of a writer over the years, though nothing he had ever written had been published on a large scale, mostly the local paper and usually around Halloween. The boy had a taste for folklore and mystery.

_ _ He had some combat training in kendo but again he had dropped out of that too. He lived in a tiny one bedroom apartment and had no connection to shifter politics or society until just these past few weeks when he had apparently made the mistake of doing his job. Pulling some strings at the local hospital, Rakinos had leaned on his contacts once he had left the manor with his stolen samples to find out more about Brian MacGregor and how he came to be. Raven and Draco had foolishly told him all they knew up until that point. It served well.

_ _ Two weeks ago, a man had came into the local hospital suffering under some kind of extreme overdose and Rakinos now knew that it had been one of the 86ers who had gotten into some of his stolen product, thanks to a certain young shifter whom now served as the prototype for the Dog Soldiers. Brian and another guard had taken the man down and had him arrested and as it turned out, Rakinos thought amused, the man himself had ironically been one of the original dealers that Alex had contacted. The 86ers were making a hefty profit from the leaked Bane and hadn't taken it too lightly when one of their top dealers was knocked out of the game by a glorified set of security guards.

The arresting officer had been on the take, of course, Rakinos mused, seeing the officers name and connections and the officer had alerted his gang bosses looking for a reward. The gang had sent enforcers after both Brian and the other guard, Elijah Connors. Connors hadn't survived but Brian...

_ _That's where Max Mullen came in it seemed like, Rakinos thought from the information Draco and Raven had told him when he arrived to help her test the samples. Max had leveled the enforcers and had in an act of desperation to save Brian's life, bitten him and the enzymes in shifter saliva that normally should have shredded Brian's DNA on the spot (Rakinos thought back to Calvin with a satisfied grin, feeling his bourbon) instead activated a set of dormant shifter genetics and had unleashed a truly interesting and powerful set of changes that Rakinos had never seen anywhere before or sense.

_ _Brian's unique triple helix DNA and his unique ability to turn normal humans into shifters was a resource unlike any other and Rakinos fully intended to convert Brian to his cause, by force if needed or simply take what he wanted. Brian's DNA could be used to alter existing shifters and allow them to tolerate the destructive power of the Bane. If he could turn him, he could have a valuable weapon that could create more weapons and converts. If he couldn't, he would still have a resource as long as Brian lived and there were ways to keep someone in agony but alive at the same time. Rakinos had perfected those, especially for shifters with heightened immune systems. It took quite a bit to overwhelm them and Rakinos knew just far to take the line and dial it back before ramping it up again.

_ _As for Max Mullen....

_ _ Rakinos felt the red swirl of anger and the past swim up behind his eyes. He moved the mouse and pulled up all the information he had on Max Mullen.

_ _ The DNA tests did not lie and Rakinos now knew the truth, he simply had to draw the connections where they were.

_ _ He stared the screen, his red eyes sharp and for a while, they fell back to the past, his own this time as he connected the dots between them.

_ _ Rakinos himself had been born in 1970, and what a year it had been. Nixon had ordered an invasion of Cambodia, pushing the tensions even higher in Vietnam and much the distress of fans around the world, the Beatles broke up. Mullen had been born in 1979.

_ _ Rakinos had a near photographic memory and in his mind, he remembered his parents names as if they were engraved in stone. Eric and Diane Clairmont.

_ _ There were no Mullens.

_ _He sneered. Their last name, Clairmont, meant bright, shining, clear of sight and hearing and with a surge of hate and pride, he thought, it was ironic that they never saw what was coming for them before it was too late. Not that they were evil people, he admitted; they weren't. They were simply a young couple, not married, unprepared for the strain and commitment of having a child, especially one that was born of a union that at the time was frowned on, between shifter and human let alone a child with a rare mutation that locked them in their wolf form.

_ _He knew his mother had received death threats from anonymous mailers and once from a neighbor, Rakinos himself had been the target. He had been three and a half when the neighbor called him a mutt. Rakinos, already talking early, had asked what a mutt was and his mother had told him to pay that angry man no mind. He also knew his father tried as best as he could to shield them all from the vitriol being slung their way but by the time Rakinos himself was four, already big for his age and highly intelligent, he gained a reputation for being what some would call, a problem child, albeit a quiet one, at least to his parents who desperately tried to contain his hobbies.

_ _ His parents consistently found dead animals in their yard, sometimes buried, sometimes not. The animals were ravaged, while others were found with surgical cuts. Rakinos remembered his father having to put one of the poor squirrels out of its misery.

Niether his mother or his father blamed him outright, perhaps they were afraid to but both of them kept a wary eye on him and soon he had to keep his side hobbies more discrete, learning early the art of deception.

_ _ By the time he was school age, Rakinos was already in several fights a day.

_ _ When he was seven, the neighbor that had called him a mutt soon found his favorite pet cat (one of at least ten) hung from his clothesline, its guts strung out and laid in piles below it.

_ _ Of course, that neighbor had accused Rakinos, citing him as "the only demented little shit cruel enough to do it and he would press charges, just you wait!"

_ _ The charges never came.

_ _ A week later, the neighbor had a very unfortunate accident while working on his lawnmower. Somehow, the thing had suddenly revved to life and the blades, well, perhaps he should have taken them off before crawling up under the damn thing, Rakinos thought darkly. He had watched as the police had came up a few hours later after the mailman found the chopped remains, the entire side of the white house and fence had been painted a very pretty shade of cherry red, even with the little grey lumps in it.

_ _The police never questioned him, thinking instead that it was a simple electrical malfunction and a careless owner.

_ _ Rakinos had watched them cart off what remained of the neighbor in a bucket covered in black plastic.

_ _ It was then that he found he enjoyed the scent of blood, enjoyed how it flowed. It was such a beautiful fluid in how it coated whatever it touched.

_ _ Not long after that, his mother had begun to watch him very carefully, so carefully in fact that he had to leave his animals alone and that made him angry. It bottled up inside him like a pressure cooker. He was a big kid for his age and he knew he was stronger than they were. He could take care of them if he wanted but he held back; something about his mother and his father held him in check and he hated them for it. He couldn't explain it and then one day he realized it was.

_ _ He was afraid.

_ _That realization had enraged him to the point that he hadn't even slept that night, the thoughts chasing him round and round in the darkness, hounding him. The next morning, he had not spoken to either one of his parents and had went to school. For most of the day, things had been fine.

_ _ Then there was that kid.

_ What was his name,_ Rakinos, thought and then it came to him, floating out of the crimson mist of his mind as he took another hit from the strong drink.

_ Donny Tellerson._

_ _Donny was a fat kid, a bullied victim as much as he was the bully himself. He took out his rage on anyone and everything he could get his hands on. Rakinos and everyone else knew his father was a lazy drunk and there were stories that his mom worked the side walk café, where any john could place an order if he could pay. An ugly kid with a round face and mousy ratty brown hair and beady wet eyes, Donny had consistently picked on Rakinos since day one and that day was no different, at least for Donny.

_ _ For Rakinos, it was a very different day indeed because it was that day that he killed fear and unleashed the rage he had pent up at being supervised like a hawk. All that pent up anger and frustration and the dark impulses he had been forced to keep in check finally exploded.

_ _ Donny had pushed him in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground hard. Rakinos remembered his muzzle striking the white tile and the sharp pain as his nose shot blood all over the floor. There were no teachers around. Donny was careful when he chose his moments. The other kids had all stood back, all of them watching to see what would happen, shifters and human children alike.

_ _ Rakinos at first had been stunned and then as he opened his eyes and looked down and saw the red blood on the floor, that safety valve he had crudely fashioned on his inner hellish self gave away as he wiped his red furred hand across his face and got to his knees, standing up and turning around to face a leering Donny who was slinging insults at him like bullets.

_ _ Rakinos remembered feeling none of them. All he saw was Donny's round fat face with the one pimple that was growing in under his left eye. He remembered feeling something inside of him give way, like a dam bursting and it felt wonderful. He felt his fear die and in its place something new rose like a bat winged shadowy monster and he welcomed it.

_ _ He punched Donny in the face with all his might, instantly breaking Donny's nose with a wet crunch.

_ _ With a spray of blood and snot, Donny had stumbled backward, letting out a high pitched scream of pain and shock.

_ _Rakinos simply moved in and shoved him backward squarely in the chest. Donny had stumbled harder, nearly losing his footing and Rakinos fixed that situation for him too, lashing out with a powerful kick, sending Donny sprawling into a crying heap onto the floor with a wet smack of a fleshy body hitting cold unforgiving tile.

_ "Whut fa fubk bude...."_ Donny had cried, his voice slurred, his face and hands a crimson mess.

_ _Rakinos said nothing but stood over him, his scarlet eyes looking over Donny's ankle.

_ _ A lesson needed to be taught here. Respect would not be earned but it would be taken.

_ _ Rakinos slammed his foot down on Donny's ankle, snapping it like a wet toothpick.

_ _ The bone exploded through the skin in a compound fracture and a second later, the fat kid's ankle stuck out at an extremely unnatural angle and the scream that he let out was beyond inhuman; it was agony and to Rakinos, it sounded like music. He wanted to hear more of it, needed more of it. Donny hadn't learned yet. But he would, oh yes, he would.

_ _Kicking Donny's ruined ankle aside, Rakinos fell upon him, beating him in the face, the ribs, the neck the ears, anywhere he could reach, his powerful fists fell, red fur soon turning dark with wet warm blood. He heard bones crunch, heard the sickening sound of his fist striking thick fatty flesh over and over. He relished it. To him it was a dance with death and one he had longed for after weeks of being cooped up. This was more than a lesson, Rakinos had thought. This was fun.

_ _Donny's screams ripped up and down the halls and he fought back or tried to. Rakinos broke his wrist for his efforts and two ribs for the trouble. Rakinos could see the teachers coming down the hall, running, their features fully shadowed by the afternoon light.

_ _ Blow after blow fell and soon, he thought that Donny's face, cracked and bleeding, with bone sticking out of his shattered eye socket, looked much better this way and eventually Donny stopped fighting back and instead fell still, his cries of pain slowing to nothing as the teachers finally yanked Rakinos off of him.

_ _ Rakinos distinctly remembered seeing the results of his rage, the broken bloody boy on the floor who's face and body may have had better luck with a speeding truck. He remembered feeling the rush of excitement. The thrill of it. It made his heart pound, his blood rush in his ears, his red eyes had dilated as a type of euphoria came over him.

_ _ The rest of that afternoon went by as the police were called, ambulances had come and taken Donny away.

_ _ His mother had pulled him from school that day and did not allow him back. Rakinos heard Diane (he no longer thought of her as his mother) talking to someone on the phone as she wept to Eric who tried to comfort her. Straining, Rakinos had been able to pick up the phone conversation, his red ears swiveling.

_ _ Donny Tellerson was comatose and paralyzed from the waist down. If he ever woke up, he wouldn't walk again for the rest of his life.

_ _ Rakinos smiled. Good. That's what happened to people who treated him like that. He would never put up with it again. Sometime later, he recalled hearing that Donny had died in his sleep.

For the next few days, his parents had left him alone and then one afternoon a week after the incident in school, they had asked him to come downstairs, that they needed to talk to him.

_ _ Rakinos remembered walking down those stairs and seeing two men in white shirts and white pants and a woman with iron gray hair tied up into a bun. She looked severe in her dark suit and knee length skirt and her eyes tracked him as he moved. All three of them were human, at least as far as he could tell.

_ _ Diane and Eric together told him that he needed help and the best way they knew to do that is to let these people take him for a while, to see if they could help him back on his feet and to find his way. That they felt they couldn't help him at home and that it was best for them all.

_ _ The two men in white had stepped forward towards Rakinos and he had warily stepped back. He didn't care about his parents but he wasn't going with those people.

_ _ He had tried to turn and run, thinking of ten thousand ways to escape but they were bigger than he was, stronger too. They had him in moments, pinning his arms in such a way as that he could get no leverage at all. They stayed clear of his teeth as well.

_ _ He watched Diane cry as they took him out the front door; he watched Eric hold her close and close his eyes, turning away from his ranting son, his son that was screaming at them that he would not forget this and that one day he would come back for them, just like Donny because they were just like Donny.

_ _Rakinos had spent the next fifteen years of his life in The Center, which was its name as well as function. It was a psychiatric hospital that specialized in treating violent patients, patients with histories gory enough and tragic enough that Rakinos just fit right in. Where it was located, he couldn't tell. They never let him see the roads going to it, that way in case of escapes, the escapee wouldn't know which way to go and given the histories of many of their patients, it was best that they didn't.

_ _At first, they had tried counseling, one on one with a therapist. His therapist was a young human woman with gentle brown eyes and a calm voice. She seemed eager to genuinely help him and get to the root of his "problem" as they called it. She was never rude to him, never mean, never demeaning. For months she had tried to get him to open up and even in failure, she was polite to him.

_ _ It enraged him. To be shackled down and subjected to that useless prattle. There was nothing wrong with him. It was the way he was, simple as that. He knew he was different but didn't consider it a fault and had instead, since being taken from his parents, given up by their weakness, he had found a curious strength in his solitude. He embraced the darkness within and found that he was never lonely again. He remembered thinking that, the older he got, the darker red his fur become, like blood and it has became a source of pride for him.

_ _One day, during a therapy session, he managed to get one of his hands lose and waited.

_ _ When the therapy session was over, the therapist in all her gentility, lay quite dead, her eyes gouged out and her tongue pinned to the roof of her mouth with a screw that he had managed to rip loose from the metal table. Her prattle was silenced.

_ _ It was after that that the drugs started; the injections. The serums and of course, their favorite, electro-shock therapy, oh boy they loved that last one. They said it would cause short term memory loss and maybe that was what the doctors were hoping for, to erase some of him so he couldn't hurt anyone again but they failed.

_ _He remembered it all and it was the early days of shifter medicine so they had no sedatives to give him, no pain killers.

_ _ Rakinos remembered the buzzing whine of the ECT machine as it ramped up and remembered the cold touch of the metal paddles against his temples, the blazing hot fire that exploded in his head.

_ _ He remembered the one orderly who could carry his limp form back to his room to be locked up, Jason Ruger. Ruger was a big brawny human man with mean eyes. He was not known to be kind to the patients and had dark appetites that he satisfied on the more comatose ones, the ones who could never tell, the ones who couldn't form words and instead drooled themselves senseless every day.

_ _Ruger eventually turned his appetites on Rakinos and for a time, Rakinos had been powerless to fight back since Ruger only went after him after ECT therapy. Rakinos remembered Rugers big meaty human hands moving down his red furred chest, sliding down and under the waistband of his hospital issue paper pants. Rakinos remembered the shame, the hate and the anger as he was left alone, unable to move, his pants wet and sticky. He had cried then, but they were tears of rage. His parents had abanoned him because they were weak and sentenced him to hell.

_ _ Ruger himself had an accident one year later and ended up a patient in his own ward as he seemed to have been over dosed on something that fried his brain. He spent the rest of his days eating pureed peas, crying because he didn't like the apricots on Friday. The accident was never explained though of course, none the patients complained.

Rakinos himself eventually learned that if he pretended to go along with whatever they wanted of him, he got freedoms and so, over a period of years, he continued to do just that until finally, in 1996, he managed to get himself released with a brand new lease on life, declared sane and allowed to walk again in the sun for the first time in what felt like a life time.

_ _The first thing he did was go to his parents house.

_ _They were gone, having moved a long time ago.

_ _For weeks he searched and had nearly given up, turning his attention to his growing interest into the study of genetics, until he got lucky one day and overheard a conversation at a local restaurant where he had came to get a bite while studying. Two redneck idiots were sitting side by side, drinking shitty coffee.

_ _ "Say you heard about that crazy kid?"

_ _ "No, what crazy kid?"

_ _ "Back in the seventies. Beat a local boy to death when he was seven. Parents sent him up to The Center or some shit."

_ _ "No shit...whatever happened to them?"

_ _ "Not a gotdamned clue. I heard stories that they changed their names and moved away. I sure as hell would if I gave birth to some little freak like that..."

_ _ That single lead had sparked his quest to find them anew and this time he checked local records before threatening the life of a local clerk and he learned quickly that applied fear could be very useful. She gave him the records he needed and he killed her quickly for it, striking out for Alaska that winter.

_ _ Eric and Diane Clairmont had married and changed their names to Mullen.

_ _ There was no mention of him, he noticed. He did find out that his parents had legally surrendered him to the state not long after The Center had came to pick him up. They were weak then and were hiding now. He had scared him and they knew he was capable of getting his revenge, just like he promised that day in their living room.

_ Mullen._

_ _Rakinos flicked his eyes to the screen, looking at a snapshot of Max Mullen's gray furred face and his blue eyes.

_ _ Diane's eyes.

_ _ That winter, Rakinos had spent weeks locating them and finally found them. He had watched them for days, and then as the heaviest snow fall of the year began, he had made his move.

_ _ Eric had fallen first, ridiculously easy. Rakinos still remembered the words he whispered to him as he died.

_ "I always keep my promises, dad. Just like you taught me. Proud?"_

_ _Of course, their new son had been there, all of seventeen and in a rage, had tried to stop him and Rakinos had simply knocked him back across the yard. Rakinos never knew the kid's name. Thinking he had hit the teen hard enough to kill him, Rakinos relished remembering as in his mind, he broke down the front door, walked into the kitchen and turned on the gas stove, letting the blue-orange jets reach high, and in moments, the curtains were in flame and that flame spread quickly.

_ _ As he had walked through their house, he had taken stock of what their life had become.

_ _Happy family memories of ski trips. Science fair projects. Shining pictures Diane and Eric with their new son as he celebrated a birthday, his first lost tooth.

_ _ It was sickeningly sweet and it also bothered him for some reason that he couldn't pin point at first and then when he did, it made him even angerier. It was jealousy.

_ _ They had replaced him, like he was nothing, proving that he was right all those years ago, that his parents were really no different that Donny Tellerson and they would learn the same lesson he taught Donny.

_ By the time Rakinos had cornered his mother, she was begging him, pleading for her life, not because of her own need to live but for son. _Give him the chance you wouldn't take, the one you never had because we failed you, she had screamed at him and Rakinos had slit her throat without a second thought.

_ _He hated mewling.

_ _ At that moment, that grey furred teenager had came up the stairs and Rakinos could hear the safety valves on the propane tanks beginning to fail and so, knowing what was to become of them all very soon, left his mother to bleed out and the brother he never wanted to die.

_ _ He remembered leaping out of the window, crashing into the snow and watching from afar as the house went up in a fireball, consuming everything around it before collapsing into a burning hulk.

_ _ Twenty-two years later in 2018, Rakinos had pushed all thoughts of Eric and Diane Clairmont from his mind; they no longer mattered. Their unknown son also no longer mattered. He was a nameless corpse that had been incinerated in the conflagration and even when a certain werewolf carrying a mutation much like his own that blocked him from being able to shift began beating up thugs, some of his own men included in that number, Rakinos didn't make the connection.

As it turns out, he thought, that nameless son did in fact, have a name.

_ _ Twenty-two years is a lifetime and he found this Max Mullen character to be nothing more than an annoyance at first. A pest. He had even met Max face to face so to speak in 2013 at one of Draco's final rallies, the one where he had incited a riot, the same one that ended up claiming Barbara Riley's life. It had been a deliberate act, Rakinos thought, designed to break Draco and drive him out of the public eye, at least at rallies, to weaken his resolve. Draco was spreading hope and Lupine Freedom could not flourish if there was hope. Of course, to the public and to the police, it was just a situation that had gotten out of hand.

_ _ Max had been there and thoroughly blamed Rakinos for what happened, even without evidence and Rakinos smiled a bit. He wasn't wrong, after all.

_ _ But now, as his past finally came full circle, Rakinos looked at the image of Max Mullen on screen and saw his father's ghost and his mother's eyes in the brother he thought long dead and now that that brother was no longer a nameless charred corpse but rather a very much alive and well reminder of the one thing Rakinos hated more than any other: failure.

_ _Even though he now knew that Max was his brother, Rakinos wondered if Max knew it. Probably not. Eric and Diane evidently never told him. Perhaps, it was time to change that, Rakinos thought as he sat back in his chair, finishing off the last of his bourbon.

_ _ In fact, he could kill two birds with one stone. He could simultaneously take Brian MacGregor and utterly break Max Mullen and finish what he started years ago.

_ _ He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. After a moment, John Carrey's deep voice came over the end.

_ _ Rakinos smiled, almost purring.

_ _ "John, I have a job for you. I need you to find out where Max Mullen and Brian MacGregor are at this moment and then tell me. Do not engage them and do not let them see you. Simple recon."

_ _ "Will do."

_ _Rakinos killed the line and sat back to think long and hard in the quiet darkness in which his red eyes glowed like hell coals.

Chapter 12

In Dawson City while Rakinos was giving John Carrey his orders, it was just before eleven thirty in the morning at Chris MacGregor's house. The daylight had brought with it a warmth that Chris hadn't seen or a felt in her house in a very long time. She had awoken well before Brian or Max had and she wondered if they had slept well after they finally went back to bed. She had showered, cleaned herself up and even had her cup of coffee before she even though to go and check on the two of them. She went upstairs and gave the door a quick knock.

_ _ She heard shuffling and a moment later, Brian's sleep choked voice called out and she smiled. It was just like having him back at home again, taking her back years to his teenage days.

_ _ "....We're alive...I think..." he grunted through the door.

_ _Chris smiled. "Good. Come downstairs when you guys are ready. I made breakfast for lunch."

_ _ "Roger that..." Brian said back through a cavernous yawn.

_ _ In the bedroom, Brian was on his back, his eyes crusty with sleep as he blinked it away to see the white ceiling and felt the sun pushing through the closed blinds on the window. He stretched his toes out under the blanket and felt that his tail had gone numb. Frowning he didn't know that could happen and raised his butt up a bit off the bed and tried to move his tail to get blood flow back into it and in a rush of pins and needles, it did.

_ _ "Man that feels weird..." he said to himself more than anything else. He glanced over at Max and saw that Max was still sleeping.

_ _ Brian let himself glance over Max's sleeping form, and just let everything else go. Max's eyes were closed and he wasn't curled over into a fetal position. He was breathing slow and steady and his eyes barely moved behind his eyes. Whatever he was seeing, wasn't a nightmare hopefully, Brian thought. He seemed very peaceful, tranquil even. Brian reached over and laid a gentle hand on Max's right shoulder and gave it a small shake.

_ _ A moment later, Max grunted and opened his blue eyes, blinking owlishly at Brian.

_ _ "Hey...what's up..." he said his voice husky from sleep.

_ _Brian smiled. "Not much but take a whiff of the air."

_ _ Frowning Max did. "All I smell is us."

_ _ Brian saw a tiny sleepy grin form on his muzzle. He gave him a playful shove.

_ _ "Smell again."

_ _Max did, inhaling deeply. Instantly his eyes widened and he woke up.

_ _ "Is that....sausage and eggs? Bacon and toast?"

_ _ Brian nodded. "It is. Mom came up and said she made breakfast for lunch. She's not done that in a while." He drug himself up into a sitting position and kicked the blankets off himself.

_ _ He yelped in surprise a moment later as he felt Max's brawny arms come around him and pulled him back in the bed.

_ _ Landing on Max's chest, Brian looked up into Max's eyes and smiled at Max's devilish grin.

_ _ "Where do you think you're going?" Max asked mischievously. Brian grunted and laughed a bit as he tried to get up but Max was stronger, at least right now because honestly, Brian didn't want to get up just yet even though he had to.

_ _ "Going to go stuff my face with that food downstairs."

_ _ Max leaned down into Brian's ear and growled softly. "I know something else we could stuff our faces with."

_ _ Brian lost it, laughing heartily. "Get out of this bed with me and let's go downstairs before you talk me into something I regret."

_ _ Max was smiling warmly at him, their noses almost touching.

"I guess that sounds like a good idea. You gonna tell your mom about finally being able to shift?"

"Not yet. I want to keep that to myself for a while."

_ _ Brian reached up and touched noses with Max gently, unsure of why he did it but it felt right, better and more impish than a kiss. As he did, he actually licked Max nose full on with his tongue, like a dog.

_ _That surprised Max enough to let him go and sent the bigger shifter into a small fit of what was for him the closest thing he could get to laughter.

_ _ "And I have no idea why I just did that but okay then." Brian said with a giggle snort, standing up off the bed, glad to be moving. His back was a bit stiff.

_ _ Max looked him as he stood there drinking in Brian's muscled body, his black fur just drinking in the sunlight like a black hole. He found his eyes tracing down following his tail line, past the round firmness of Brian's butt and Max found himself grinning like a kid.

_ _Brian felt the stare.

_ _He turned and raised an eyebrow. "So that's why I felt like a piece of beef jerky."

_ _Max snorted. "Please..."

_ _ Brian grinned. "It is nice though."

_ _ Max nodded. "Its...very... nice." With that, Max turned over on his bank and Brian laughed as he saw the blankets were tented up in cone just below Max's waist.

"I think I'm a bad influence on you," Brian joked as he grabbed his clothes off the floor. "While that goes down for you, I'm going to head to the bathroom and wash up my face and teeth. Mouth feels like scum, plus I've got the strong suspicion I've got a cow lick. Feel free to use anything in the bathroom. Towels are in the closet just outside the hall if you want to wash your face."

_ _Brian turned to go out into the hallway standing in the open door. He felt Max staring at him from behind and he turned his head side to side, looking for his mom and when he was sure she wasn't there, he slid a finger into the cotton waistband of his trunks and slid them down, just enough expose his right butt cheek. He heard Max grunt behind him and a moment later a balled up sock hit him in the back of the head.

_ _ Laughing to himself, he made for the bathroom to get woke up and try to get going for the day.

_ _ Fifteen minutes later, both Max and Brian had came downstairs, fully dressed. Instead of wearing the brown over shirt, Brian had tied its long sleeves around his waist. The cowlick had refused to go entirely away, he thought with a bit of embarrassment but he didn't really care when it came down to it. Max of course had managed to get the fur on his head to lay down and everything else that was messed up was covered by his shirt and pants. They had cleaned up the bedroom and made the bed before coming down and as they came around the corner into the kitchen, Chris looked up from her coffee in the living room.

_ _ "Hey boys, morning. Hope you got some rest. Food is on the counters. You know where the plates are, Brian. Help yourselves. I made plenty." She said happily, going back to her coffee and the television which was currently turned to the news.

_ _ Looking at Max Brian nodded towards the kitchen. "Let's dig in before I start eating it right out of the bowl."

_ _ Max agreed and when Brian started lifting the covers off the dishes, he felt his stomach leap in anticipation.

_ _ "Wow, Chris....you went all out...thanks." Max said, his voice still a bit husky from sleep. Chris waved him off gently from the living room.

_ _ "Honey if you are going to be a part of this family you are going to learn that I love to cook and thank god we've got decent metabolisms otherwise we'd be fatter than a bunch of bears in winter. You're welcome, by the way."

_ _ Max smiled. He liked her.

_ _ Brian handed him a plate and together they both loaded up on scrambled eggs, toast, bacon strips and sausage patties. There were even a few of those little biscuits and some home-made country gravy. It sat in a bowl, grey with black pepper flecks and it made both of them growl with anticipation.

_ _ "Was that your stomachs?" Chris asked, bemused.

_ _"No, just everything smells fantastic, mom. Thanks...we mean it. Damn." Brian replied, setting out glasses for himself and Max. He took orange juice while Max snagged a glass of milk. The two of them came over into the living room and sat down, their plates on their knees, forks in hand.

_ _ "Good! You got a real amount. So, how'd you sleep?"

_ _ As Brian dug in, Max swallowed a bit and told her. "Pretty good I guess. I usually have trouble sleeping anyway but honestly, not bad."

_ _ Chris nodded approvingly. "Awesome. What do you guys have planned today?"

_ _Now it was reversed with Max with a mouthful and Brian free.

_ _"Not sure. We need to head back to the city. My paid leave is about up and need to take care of some things at the apartment."

_ _ Frowning, Chris asked, "How long have you been off work?"

_ _Brian sheepishly told her.

_ _"Two weeks? Good god, how did you convince them of that?"

_ _ Max chimed in with a knowing grin. "Apparently you are laid up with a nasty case of the flu and desperately needed home care."

_ _ Chris looked from Max to Brian and Brian nodded.

_ _ A moment later she burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you are awful. Well, it's a good thing I know so I can keep your story straight. Do you miss work?"

_ _ Brian had cleaned half his plate by this point and swallowed his drink carefully, thoughtfully.

"In a way but in a way I don't. I'm not sure I'll be going back to the hospital."

_ _Chris shook her head. "That's understandable, considering what you went through. Any ideas about where you'd like to end up?"

_ _ Brian shrugged. "There's this club, The Wolves Den. Do you know it?"

_ _ Shaking her head, Chris told him no.

_ _ "Well, it's a really nice club and that's where I was taken to recover since I didn't want to go to the hospital. Its got a lower level that helps shifters and people like me get back on their feet, sort of like a high tech half way house. Draco's brother owns it. Might see if I can talk to him and see if he needs any help."

_ _ Chris smiled and leaned back into her chair. "You know...you are just like your dad. You both enjoyed helping people and protecting them."

_ _ Hearing that made Brian's face go warm and honestly, made him feel the tiniest surge of pride.

_ _ "Never thought about it like that."

_ _ "Speaking of," Chris said, setting her coffee cup down on the table. "There's one more thing I want you to have of your dad's and I thought it for a while before I thought it was the right thing. I'll go get it."

_ _ Frowning, Brian watched her head out of the living room and down the hall, vanishing into her bedroom.

_ _ Max looked over at Brian. "You really thinking of asking Ash if he needs help?"

_ _ Brian nodded. "Yeah. I don't think I could go back to the hospital after all this. You guys did so much to help me even when I was stupid and I just can't explain it really. This whole life, you know...the shifter bit...was part of my dad's life and he gave it up for me. I think I want to explore it more. I think he'd want me to."

"Makes sense. Draco and Ash don't really speak but I can talk to him and see what he says. Be good to have you closer, if I'm honest. Can't say I'd object." Max replied. Brian agreed.

_ _ "It would be nice. Wish my apartment wasn't so far away."

_ _ Chris still hadn't came back yet and Max sat thoughtfully for a moment, quiet as he turned something over in his mind.

"Well, you know you can come over and stay anytime you want...I don't mind."

His words made Brian's ears perk up and he turned to look at Max who was wearing the most sincere expression Brian had ever saw him wear. Brian's mouth turned up in a smile.

_ _ "I'd like that."

_ _ "Good." Max said quietly and smiled himself, tucking away the last of his breakfast, and put his plate on top of Brian's, both of them feeling thoroughly stuffed.

_ _ "Maybe if this works out...you could do more than just visit..." Max said quietly, almost sheepishly.

_ _ Brian thought about that. He liked that idea but didn't want to push things too far just yet. So far, it had been much smoother than he had anticipated and he didn't' want to jinx anything.

_ _ "Could be. We'll see." He said and laid a hand on Max's arm giving it a solid squeeze. Max seemed to perk up after that and Chris chose that moment to come back.

_ _ They both looked up as she came over to them and stood before Brian.

_ _ She was holding something in her hands, something on a fine silver chain.

_ _"Brian this is very important to me....and was to your dad as well. It's got a lot sentimental value behind it and I think he would have wanted you to have it. I do and I think it needs to be with you."

_ _She extended her hand and Brian help up his, the tips of his fur turning silvery as the sunlight passed through them. As she opened her hand, the silver chain fell and draped itself around his hand and there, on the chain was a single silver ring. The ring itself was deeply engraved with Celtic ribbons and ancient designs and inside of the band, Brian could make out curved writing.

_ To Jake, my love, always._

_ _The ring itself looked like it would have fit his ring finger so it definitely wasn't for a human sized finger, at least, not a normal human sized finger. He realized it was a wedding ring.

_ _ "Mom..."

_ _ Chris closed her hand over his and clasped them together, the silver ring vanishing from sight as Brian's hand closed over it.

_ _"This is your dad's real wedding ring, the one I got him when we first got married. He wore it in those pictures you saw but when we had you and he decided to stay in human form, we got him a different one. This one always meant the most to him and to me. Take it and keep it with you, so that you always have a piece of him. Take that jacket too," she said, nodding to a chair beside the front door. Brian glanced at it and saw his father's old motocross racing jacket had been cleaned and lay draped over the chair looking brand new.

_ _ "Mom...wow....I don't know what to say."

_ _Chris reached out and pulled his furry head to her and kissed him on the forehead.

_ _"You don't have to say anything, son. I just know I'm proud to see you following in his footsteps, no matter what brought you here. You're strong, just like him and maybe a little like me. You and Max seem happy and that's all that matters to me."

_ _ With a contented and somewhat sad sigh, Chris made her way back to her chair as Brian opened his hand and looked down at the ring on the chain. He met Max's eyes for a moment and then placed the chain around his neck. Surprisingly, it was perfectly sized for him. Must have been one of his dad's old chains.

_ _ On the television, the president was on screen as a clip played from what the news ticker said was a press conference earlier that morning.

_ _ Brian listened to the words and felt something inside him stir.

The president stood behind a podium, in a dark suit with a red tie that was far too long, his skin glistening from sweat and a fake orange tan.

_ "We must protect ourselves and protect our families. I know that better than anyone, no one really knows protection like I do. If the vote passes on the registration act, I will make sure, this I promise you, that I will sign it into law as soon as it is on my desk and believe me, our country will be safer than it ever has before."_

_ _ Brian felt his brows furrow and he gritted his teeth. A low growl formed in the back of his throat. He didn't like politics before, and he had always tried to steer clear of them, only offering an opinion if he was directly asked but now...

_ _Now things were different. Now he had a stake in a fight he didn't have before and it was jarring to put it mildly to suddenly feel the effect of something that would have flown over his head as he changed channels in his apartment or tuned that orange oaf out. Maybe, Brian thought, he should have been more involved to begin with, not just once it affected him.

_ _ "Why are people like him always the ones that get the most voice?" he asked rhetorically, disgusted.

_ _"Because people are afraid and when they are afraid they do stupid things. People are angry and when they are angry, they do terrible things. Deep down, they're all afraid that they are losing their identity." Max said, a hint of sadness in his voice as he flicked his eyes from the TV to Brian. Brian looked over at him, genuinely surprised at such an insight.

_ _ "Yeah..."

_ _"Surely it won't pass," Chris said. "There's no way they could enforce that nonsense. They'd have to set up blood testing centers around the country, hell, it would be a chaotic mess."

_ _ Brian nodded. "Maybe. Anyway, Max, think we should be hitting the road? Its going on past noon here. What time do you go to work, mom?"

_ _Chris looked suddenly surprised. "Shit. I forgot that I did today. I go in at one. I'd better go and get the computer booted up. Boys, don't worry about the mess. I'll clean it."

_ _ With that they all stood and Chris stepped up to Brian.

_ _ "I love you, honey. Come by more often. We can talk about a lot more now. I'd like you to get to know your dad more. The real version of him."

_ _Brian reached out and pulled her into a hug, burying his muzzle into her hair.

_ _She smelled like strawberries and cream.

"I will. I promise. Love you, mom."

_ _ Chris moved over to Max and looked up at him.

_ _ "Thanks for everything, Chris. I don't get to do this kind of stuff often. Maybe I should." He said and to his surprise, she hugged him too. Brian watched as Max stiffened and then relaxed into it, and for a moment, saw something flicker in Max's eyes and this time, Brian understood as a part of him hurt for Max.

_ _Max smiled though when the hug was done, even though his eyes were a tad moist. Thankfully, Chris didn't seem to notice.

_ _ "You're a good man, Max. I can tell you are hard on yourself, harder than you need to be. I don't know the full story but one day when you feel ready, you can tell me and I'll be here to listen. In the mean time, this is your home too. Your family. Take care of my son. I'm sure he'll take care of you and that's all I ask." She said quietly.

_ _Max nodded. "I will. I promise."

_ _ "Good! Now scat I've got to get logged in before I'm late. Drive safe and I love you boys! Brian don't forget that jacket!" she said and hurried over to her computer station and booted it up.

_ _ "You ready?" Max asked, reaching into his pocket for his keys. Brian nodded and reached into his own and handed Max back his socket.

_ _ Max shook his head. "Nah. Hold onto that. Keep it for a while."

_ _Brian shrugged. "If you say so."

_ _ On the way out, Brian scooped up the jacket and as they stepped out of the house, Brian looked back at his mom as she plugged in her headset and her fingers began to fly over the keyboard. He saw her as she truly was he thought. He saw the lines under her eyes, the time that was slowly turning her hair lighter every year and saw how her joints hurt her more often.

_ _ The most horrifying thought ran through him and that thought was that if Draco was right, Brian himself would outlive his mother. He would see her go, just his dad and that thought sent a pang of fear through him and a cold glaze of sorrow.

_ _For some reason, Brian got the horrible impression that this might be the last time he saw her and he had a hard time shaking it for a moment.

He felt Max tap his elbow and the touch snapped him out of his moment and for that, he was grateful. Closing the house door behind him, Brian and Max made for the truck and in a few minutes, they were back on the road, heading home to Dawson City.

_ _ As they drove, Max's phone rang and looking at the road, he asked Brian to check who it was.

_ _Brian picked up the phone from the dash console pocket and looked.

_ _"Unknown caller."

_ _Max shrugged. "Block it."

_ _ Brian slid his finger across the screen towards the red REJECT button and the phone stopped ringing.

_ _"How about some music on the way home?" Max asked as he reached towards the radio.

_ _"That would be awesome." Brian replied, putting the phone back into the console slot.

With a flick of the dial, Max's playlist started and the song made Brian laugh out loud.

_ _ "This is not what I expected at all!" he giggle snorted.

_ _Max shot him a look with bemusement. "What, I have good taste in music."

_ _ Brian nodded. "Yeah, you do."

_ _The sounds of Electric Light Orchestra blasted out, shaking the windows and Brian bobbed his head to the music, his ears flopping just a bit at the tips and a moment later, Max although resisting at first, gave in and shook his head with him as they both badly sang a moment later.

Sun is shinin' in the sky

There ain't a cloud in sight

It's stopped rainin' everybody's in a play

And don't you know

It's a beautiful new day, hey hey

Runnin' down the avenue

See how the sun shines brightly in the city

On the streets where once was pity

Mister blue sky is living here today, hey hey

_ _ Brian's earlier fears melted away slowly and he realized that this was a pretty good day after all.

******

The trip back to Dawson City had passed surprisingly quickly and as Max and Brian stepped into Max's apartment, Max's phone rang again, the loud electronic melody shattering the silence like a hammer on ice. Sighing, Max looked down at it, annoyed. He really wasn't one for talking on the phone. He much preferred to text or talk face to face but apparently someone wanted to get a hold of him.

_ _The caller ID this time wasn't unknown but was rather very much a known caller.

_ ** Raven.** _

_ _ He cast an apologetic look at Brian and shrugged his shoulders, showing him the ID as the phone continued to warble. Brian breathed out a sharp sigh of frustration and shook his head and moved off into the living room. Max, knowing he couldn't avoid it anymore, answered the call, sliding his finger over to the green ACCEPT.

Pulling the phone up to his ear, tossing his truck keys on the counter with a clatter, he heard Raven's voice and he knew she was not happy.

_ _ "My God Max where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days. Two days as a matter of fact. Are you okay? Where's Brian? Did you find out anything?"

_ _Her words were blasting, running onto each other in her rush to express herself and Max shook his head, even though she couldn't see it.

_ _"Hold on...hold on. Slow down. Please." He said and walked into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Brian who gave the phone the stink eye.

_ _ Max pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the speakerphone.

_ _ "Now, we're both right here and we can both hear you."

_ _ Both of them heard Raven sigh and she started over again, slower this time, her voice sounding small and electronic coming from the phone's speaker.

_ _ Outside a car horn blared at the intersection and someone screamed a particularly vile obscenity at the offender.

_ _ "I'm sorry," she said. "First, are both of you okay?"

_ _ Max shrugged. "I'm fine. Same old same old. No bullet holes if that's what you're asking."

Brian thought he heard relief in Raven's voice but he wasn't too partial to care at the moment as she asked for him.

_ _ "And Brian?"

_ _ Max looked over at Brian who had crossed his arms in frustration with Raven and the look on his face said volumes.

_ _ "I'm fine, Raven." Brian said quietly.

_ _ "Why haven't you two been answering? I was worried about you." Her voice asked, and Brian snorted.

_ _"Were you so worried about us that you asked Max to do something incredibly stupid and not tell anyone else so that way if he got in over his head he'd have no back up?" Brian snarled at her.

_ _ "What are you talking about?" Raven shot back, her tone suddenly unsteady.

_ _ Brian growled loudly and leaned into the speaker phone, his tone sliding fully into anger.

_ _ "You know damn well what I'm talking about. You told Max to go out and find out where that drug is coming from and he did. He nearly died, Raven. If I hadn't followed him, he would have! You didn't tell anyone, not even me because your ass didn't trust me!"

_ _Max tried to interject but the fire was already lit and it was burning out of control quickly.

"Brian, Max has been doing this for years. He's no fool and you're right; I didn't trust you. I didn't know whether or not you could handle doing what he does. I didn't know if you could remain level headed. That drug is the reason your best friend is dead and why you are the way you are. If it hadn't been for it and the events it set in motion, you wouldn't be here!"

_ _Her words raked at Brian like a cat scratch on the face. He wasn't gentle when he replied.

_ _ "Goddamn, Raven. That sounds like the stupidest reason I could have ever made up in my fucking life. You know very well that I'm not some loose fucking cannon. You had no right to hide this from me. I deserved to know that you were tracking this shit down because it put me here!"

When Raven came back she too had lost her temper.

_ _ "Brian there is more than you know going on here. We've found some things, things I suspected but couldn't verify about you. There are some things you need to know! I can't in good conscience put your life in danger when we don't know what you are capable of!"

_ _ Brian flinched at that, his ears pinning to the top of his head, his green eyes blazing.

_ _ "What the hell does that even mean? I'm not some glass knick knack you stick on your fucking shelf. I know it's going to be a big boost to your medical career when you finally get to publish a paper or something about me but fuck, Raven..."

"No, Brian its not that--"

"Then what is it?"

Raven sighed on the other end and for a few seconds, the entire apartment was silent except the three of them breathing and finally she broke the silence.

_ _ "Look, we can discuss this later. Right now, I need both of you to come up to Forest Glen. We've found out some things. Rakinos tampered with our systems and we've managed to fix them and we found what he tried to hide and Brian, this concerns you so will both of you please just come up as soon as you can?"

_ _Her voice sounded tired and strangely, a bit scared, Brian thought.

_ _ Brian just shook his head and went back to being silent. Max looked at him for a moment, frowning and then back to the phone.

_ _ "Yeah, give us a bit to get cleaned up. We were at Brian's mom's house last night. We found some things out too. We'll see you in a bit."

_ _ "Thank you...and...guys....please...be careful."

_ _"We will, Raven." Max told her.

_ _Max ended the call with a tap of the screen and tossed the phone onto the coffee table, making the ashtray with bullets and the empty beer bottles rattle.

_ _ "Well that was awkward as fuck. You do have a temper." Max said, though not judgmentally. When Brian met his eyes, he saw the tiniest hint of a mischievous smile there. He snorted when he replied.

_ _ "Well, it takes a while and a lot to get it to come out. I try not to be. I spent long enough in anger management classes as a kid trying to beat it and I don't want to be that person again but sometimes...." Brian replied, throwing his hands up, letting them fall loudly into his lap, slapping his legs.

_ _ Max reached over and put an arm around Brian's shoulder.

_ _ "I know what you mean. I feel like I run from my ghosts every day. But I'm tough, man. Normally I can handle this stuff pretty well but honestly, I'm glad you're here with me. Feels good to have back up out there. Don't let Raven get to you too much; she means well but sometimes her academic mind can outthink her heart. She does care for us. We're all a family....just a bit dysfunctional." He said, looking at Brian with a kinder look than Brian was used to seeing from him and his normally gruff behavior.

Sighing, Brian nodded. "I know. I just don't like being left out of the loop. It bugs me."

_ _ "I'll try my best to make sure it doesn't happen again. We made a pretty good team...well...you did. I was an idiot and got myself knocked out but still."

Max ruffled Brian's fur on the top of his head.

_ _ "How about I call Ash and see about setting the two of you up together so you can ask him about a job? Then, I'd like to shower. Feeling a bit scummy." He finished and Brian grinned.

_ _ "We're both scum at the moment. Pond scum, really. A shower sounds good and thanks." Brian added, kicking his shoes off.

Max picked up the phone again and dialed a number. Brian heard the phone ring and felt his ears twitch towards the sound. A moment later, a husky voice answered.

"Wolves Den."

_ _"Ash, its Max."

_ _ The voice on the other end seemed to pause for a moment and then snorted.

_ _"Yeah, what's up?"

_ _ Max looked at Brian as he spoke. "Was wondering if you had any positions at the bar you needed filled? I've got a friend who needs a change of scenery. He's a security guard at the hospital. The big hospital down town. He's had a rough two weeks. Thought I'd give you a call first."

_ _ There was a pause as if the voice on the other end of the line was thinking and then a reply which made Brian's mood lift a bit.

"You know, I might have a spot open. I need a bouncer and security. Blaine's been looking for a replacement for Cody for weeks now. Need to interview him but yeah, it's a possibility. When can he come by?"

_ _Max looked at Brian who shrugged. Brian mouthed "today" and Max nodded.

_ _ "Well, we're headed out to your brother's in a bit. We could stop by before we leave the city. Bout an hour or so. Sound good?"

_ _ "Yeah sounds good. See you then."

_ _ The line went dead.

_ _ "Guessing he's not much of a talker either?" Brian asked as Max put the phone on the table again, gently this time.

_ _ "Well, he is, it's just that any time his brother is brought up it gets...twitchy. You might want to avoid that unless he brings it up directly."

_ _ Brian nodded his head. "What's the plan?"

_ _ "Showers then we can head out. Still pretty stuffed from your mom's."

_ _ "Sounds good."

_ _ With that, Max boosted his large frame off the couch and made towards the bathroom.

Brian sat on the couch, his mind turning in multiple directions as faces and feelings floated through the mental space in his head. The prospect of a new job and getting away from the hospital was nice. It was something new and new was good right now. It helped ease some of the apprehension he was having about learning to fit into this new culture and society of his, which he had to admit, didn't seem all that different from the one he had left behind. Granted, he admitted, that he had not gotten to experience much of shifter life outside of the chaos that had been the last two weeks and he wondered if time would change his mind.

_ _ He thought about Raven. He liked her or at least, he wanted to. She had been kind to him at first, concerned about his well being. Didn't that warrant some lee-way? Maybe, he thought settling back into the couch, listening to Max shuffle around in the bathroom, the door to the bathroom partially closed. He sniffed and could smell Max's musky scent. It wasn't bad, he thought.

He liked it.

_ _ Raven came back again.

_ _She should have told him, he thought bitterly. His rational mind kicked him in the shins for that. She didn't really know him. She had no idea he could handle himself in a fight. He hadn't said two words about his combat training from work or his time studying kendo. She cared enough to ask Max to find the source and that meant more people had been victims of that shit. He wondered absently whatever happened to the guy he and Elijah had turned over to the cops.

Then the big thought hit him. Should he forgive Raven? Forgive her for what? His mind shot back. She was right in what she did but his heart argued it wasn't. He was about to start a mental thought cycle, he could tell, like he always did when things bothered him but a sound drew his attention and made his ears swivel towards the bathroom. It was Max and there was something about his voice that was different. It was softer, more hesitant.

"Hey, Brian..."

_ _ Turning to face it, Brian called back. "Yeah?"

"Want to shower with me?"

_ Brian felt his eyes go large and felt his ears drop in surprise. A cold jot ran through him but not of fear but rather just pure surprise. _What should I say, What is the right thing here? he thought desperately and before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet.

_ _ "Sure." He called back as he moved across the room and paused before the bathroom door, his heart suddenly speeding up in his chest as blood rushed through his veins making his hands shake. In fact, he felt himself begin to tremble all over as strange warmth blossomed in his core that he recognized.

_ Desire. Need. Want._

_ _ Brian reached out a hand and pushed open the bathroom door and it swung wide.

_ _ He was expecting to see Max standing there or something but no, Max was already in the wide large shower, the glass door on it pulled shut, the frosted panes revealing his large frame behind it and his ears sticking up just above the top of the shower line.

_ _ "I hope you don't mind the water being too warm," Max said, sputtering a bit as water ran into his mouth.

_ _ "N-no its fine." Brian said.

_ _ "Well, come on in." Max told him and Brian took a deep breath. He wondered why he was so nervous now. It wasn't like they hadn't been together before. The last time was different, he thought. The last time was instinct, passion, driven by something deeper and more primal. This was conscious action and thought.

_ _ Gathering the courage he had and reminding himself that it was just Max, he pulled his shirt off, unbuckled and dropped his pants and trunks and stood, naked. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and this time, looking upon his thickly furred broad body and tail, with its wolf snout and canine head, he didn't mind it. He saw something more now than he did before. He didn't see a mystery anymore but rather, he saw something that was very much a part of him and he smiled a bit at himself.

He slid open the shower door and Max stood there, beneath the running waterfall of the shower head, the water streaming down his face and shoulders, his blue eyes warm and welcoming, totally different from his normally hard exterior. He was totally drenched, his fur matted down and sleekly wet like an otter.

_ _He extended an open hand to Brian and smiled.

_ _ "Come on in."

_ _ Brian nodded and after a second's hesitation, took it and Max pulled him into the shower, sliding the door closed behind him.

_ _ Instantly Brian felt the hot water strike him with millions of tiny light touches and in moments, he too was soaked from head to tail, his fur pushed close to his skin, and it felt wonderful as the heat loosened up his muscles and relaxed the tension he was feeling from the brief bitter argument with Raven. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, letting his chest rise and fall, his tail still behind him, basking in the heat and the welcome humidity.

_ _ When he opened his eyes, Max had moved in, standing now inches apart from him as the water cascaded down around them both. They were practically nose to nose and blue eyes stared into green eyes.

_ _ "Hey there..." Brian said huskily, his voice quiet and thicker than usual.

_ _"Hey." Max replied gently and leaned in, his nose touching Brian's. For a time, it felt like hours, they stood like that, the water drowning them together, dark and darker, blending together as seamlessly as the night sky.

_ _ Brian leaned in and a moment later, he and Max were locked in a kiss that was long, deep and had nothing of the primal drive from the last time but this time something far more powerful, far deeper and far reaching in its scope and meaning. Brian reached up and put one hand around the back of Max's head and the other on his waist. Max's arms found their way around Brian's body and they let the outside world go. In this moment, it had no place, no meaning; here there was only solace, silence and peace. There was no screaming, no bullets, no fighting. No lies, no shadows, only warmth and light. There was no snowstorm, no ghosts and no monsters.

_ _ When they finally broke apart, each laid his head on the other's shoulder, nestled into the others neck.

_ _ "This is the most powerful thing I think I've ever felt...and I'm scared of it." Max whispered.

Brian could feel the bigger werewolf tremble.

_ _ Brian nodded. "I'm scared too..."

_ _ He felt Max nod. "I don't know how to fight it. I don't know how to deal with it. Its wonderful but I feel like I'm drowning."

_ _Brian pulled back and held Max's head with one hand gently laid up side his cheek.

_ _ "I know. I've only felt this one other time and...well...you know how that went. I'm not scared of feeling...I'm scared of losing it." he told Max honestly.

_ _Max frowned slightly and laid his head back onto Brian's shoulder.

_ _ "I've been looking for this kind of peace for a long time...I never thought it would be you that I would find it in but I can promise you this if you promise me the same..."

_ _ Brian nodded. "What's that?"

"That if we do this for real, that if we commit, that we'll always have each other's back and always come home to each other. I can't lose another family."

_ _Brian felt like he was stabbed in the heart but not because of Max's words but the meaning behind them. The context.

_ _"You'll never lose me because I won't let that happen. I'll always be there."

_ _ He felt Max nod and Brian put his arms around him and held him tightly. He wondered if some day, he would be strong enough to push the pieces of Max back together again and hoped he was up to the task.

_ _ After a few moments, the two of them stood apart and Max sniffed a bit before his normal self came back and he made a snorting sound.

_ _ "So, uh, we should get washed up...."

_ _Brian grinned "Yeah, we should."

_ _ Max reached onto the shower caddy and grabbed a bottle of Wolfthorn shower gel, the kind that was specially conditioned for shifter's fur. He squirted a big green-blue blob of it into his hands and motioned Brian to come closer.

"I'm not helpless," Brian said with a laugh. Max shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Come here."

_ _ Doing as he was told, Brian felt Max's large hands work their way over him, digging deeply into his fur, down to his undercoat, brushing the skin, going in deep circles. Starting at his neck and moving down to his shoulders, his arms and sliding over to his chest and stomach. It felt like the best damn massage he had ever gotten. In fact, Brian thought, nearly lulled into being jelly legged, this was the only massage he had ever gotten. Max's fingers passed over his nipples and he felt a surge of excitement run through him and resisted it as Max worked down lower, passing through the ridges of his stomach muscles, circling closer and lower to the hard V of his groin.

_ _ "Here...let me help you..." Brian said and grabbed the gel and after squirting a glob of it into his hands, lathered them up and began to work Max over the same way, moving the same way.

_ _ Within a short span of time, both of them were covered in thick white sudsy lather that smelled amazing and masculine, clean and sharp. Brian gasped as Max moved between his legs, gently scrubbing the inside of his thighs parting the fur there, sliding over his penis and gently cupping his scrotum, being extra careful not to hurt him.

_ _ "That feels pretty good," Brian commented, his face flushing hot as Max looked up at him.

_ _ "Gotta get it all clean you know..." he replied with the tiniest of evil grins. He slid Brian's foreskin back and washed carefully there, sending waves of pleasure down Brian's spine.

_ _ "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're doing that on purpose." Brian told him as he worked his hands and fingers deep into the thick fur of Max's neck and undercoat.

_ _ Max simply shrugged innocently and came back up and began scrubbing Brian's neck and behind his ears, working his way into the ears themselves. That tickled and Brian laughed, getting soap in his mouth. He spat it out and he heard a sound he hadn't really heard before and he had to do a double take.

_ _ It was a rich sound, deep and genuine with a slight bass to it.

_ _ It was a sound of happiness and amusement and he recognized what it was immediately.

_ _ Max was laughing at him.

Brian stopped washing Max's chest and looked up at him.

_ _ "Did you just laugh at me?" he asked as his own soaked fur hung in his eyes. He blew it out of his face.

_ _Max nodded. "I think I did."

_ _ Brian felt something explode within himself like a hot firework. It was a great feeling. It swelled inside of him and he grinned like an idiot from each to perky ear.

_ _ "Its about time." He said gently and wiped the soap away from Max's cheeks and snout.

_ _ Max simply nodded, the water falling around them like rain and smiled back, a little smile but its impact was not lost. Brian put his arms around Max and pulled him into an embrace. Max returned it, and this time, there was nothing but warmth and he finally felt the connection he had been longing for, finally found the peace he needed.

An electronic melody began to play and Max's ears perked towards it. The phone was ringing again. Brian looked from Max, through the glass of the shower and then out the bathroom door towards the living room.

"Let it ring...this is our time..." Max said his voice husky and he closed the space with Brian again and Brian felt Max's lips on his, and surrendered to him as he found himself up against the wall of the shower, the slick wet tile pressing against his back as Max's erection pushed against his own.

In minutes, the two of them were lost in a storm of each other, the water cascading around them, washing the suds away as they met and became one again, taking turns with each other, loving and needing all at once. Their gentle grunts and growls were lost to the sound of the shower and for the next half an hour, neither of them had a single thought except of the other.

Out in the living room, the phone continued to ring before finally stopping, its screen flashing MISSED CALL.

The caller ID read simply UNKNOWN CALLER as the phone screen went dark.

There was no voicemail as steam from the bathroom wafted into the living room like ghosts finally leaving their old haunt behind.

Chapter 13

"So, what makes you want to be here, aside from the amazing company and atmosphere?" the grey werewolf with tiger stripes said sardonically as he leaned back into a chair at a table in The Wolves Den.. He was shorter than Draco, standing just over six foot five and was probably 250 pounds of muscle. His fur was light grey and he had no blaze but the tiger stripes covered him from his shoulders down to presumably his ankles. They stood out in jet black stark contrast to the lighter colors of the rest of him. Both of his ears were pierced at least twice with small simple silver rings and there was also a bull ring that hung from his nose as well, nothing too huge but it was there none the less in stainless steel.

His voice was reminiscent of his older brother, rich with solid enunciation but lacked the English accent and instead sounded like pure Dawson City: tough, no nonsense with a healthy dose of sarcasm. He had Draco's ocean blue green eyes and the fur under his chin and jaw line was darker than the rest of his fur being a dark blackish brown, giving him a bit of a beard.

_ _ This, Brian thought as he looked at him quickly, was the same DJ that had been playing the night he first came out into the club after he transformed for the first time. Instead of being shirtless and wearing headphones, the DJ that he now knew was in fact Ash Riley, brother of Draco Riley, was wearing a clean white shirt with the club logo on it in black silhouette and a pair of neat jeans and shoes. The club itself was nearly empty, the dance floor deserted, the warm afternoon sunlight filtering down through the darkly tinted windows. The bar had a few regulars but otherwise, it was a quiet afternoon. Soft music played over the speakers, and it sounded familiar but Brian couldn't place it. The two of them sat a round table near the very same one in the bar area that Brian had his first meal as a shifter at. Max had wondered off to give them some privacy and as he glanced up, Max was talking to another shifter.

_ _Brian swung his attention back to the interview.

_ _ "All of my life, I tried to live up to my dad's ideals and recently I found out he wasn't the man I thought he was; he was something more. I want to learn about this part of his life, this part of our culture, society, to find a spot where I belong. He was a werewolf, like me but I didn't know that until recently."

_ _ Nodding Ash looked Brian over again. The young werewolf in front of him was cleanly and simply dressed. He wore a dark navy blue shirt and jeans; he'd even tucked his shirt in, Ash thought amused. Around his neck he wore a thin silver chain upon which a richly engraved Celtic ring hung. He was black furred with strange green eyes and a silver blaze.

_ _When he spoke next, Ash's voice had the tone of recognition.

_ _ "I know who you are, at least on the surface. Raven told me about you. I was the one who told her you could use the facilities downstairs. You are one hell of a puzzle and you've got all kinds of people talking. Well, in my brother's circle anyway. I try to steer clear of that. The price to pay is too much."

_ _Brian saw a look flash over Ash's face and whether or not Ash knew that Brian understood what he meant it wasn't clear. Brian thought it would be a wise idea to keep his mouth shut, knowing what he did about Ash's sister and the disharmony between the brothers.

_ _"So you're a guard up at Wade Johnson. That's not too bad. They train you guys well from what I hear. What I'm looking for is someone who not only provides security but also enforces it, someone with brains and brawn but who knows what it means to be a goddamn professional, not a thug." Ash said, leaning forward again, pinning Brian with an analyzing gaze. "Sometimes we get drug runners in here, trouble makers. I need someone who can investigate and eliminate the problem before anyone gets hurt."

_ _ Brian shrugged. "I've handled everything from bed rails to bed pans being thrown in my face; I've been slashed, spat on and called everything in the book."

_ _ "I bet you have. Max speaks well about you too. That means something in my book. I may try to stay out of the politics but Max is a good guy. If he says I can trust you I can. I'd like you to meet my chief of security and let him talk to you to see what he thinks. The last guy Cody...was a handful. If he thinks you've got what we need, I'll bring you on."

_ _Brian nodded, feeling his heart slow down a bit. He hadn't known what to expect from Ash Riley or this job interview. It had gone on for over an hour as Ash grilled him about his past jobs, his experience, his training and even how he knew Max. Brian was grateful that he had told the truth since apparently Ash already knew more about him than Brian would normally like. Given his connection to Draco, however, it didn't bother Brian as much as it normally would.

_ _"Hey, Blaine!" Ash called out, looking over his shoulder as he half turned in his chair.

_ _ Across the room, the shifter that Max had been talking to perked his ears up and turned to face them.

_ _ "Yeah?" he called back.

_ _ "Come here." Ash told him.

_ _ Brian felt his eyes go wide as the shifter came closer and he realized just how massive the guy actually was.

_ _ The man himself resembled a Rottweiler with some Akita thrown in, though in terms of color, he was pure Rottweiler. He had the longer undocked tail and ears of an intact Rottweiler and his eyes were dark brown. His face and muzzle were blunt and his jaws were heavily muscled. In fact, the man was a walking wall of muscle. He towered over Max by a good three inches and probably outweighed both him and Max by at least two hundred pounds of sheer power. His black work shirt with the club logo in white was stretched tightly across his broad chest and shoulders and his khaki pants were the same. He seemed like he was going to burst out of them and Brian swallowed, suddenly nervous. The guy could probably break me in two, he thought.

_ _ His tan eyebrows on his black and tan face rose a bit when he saw Brian but he said nothing at first.

_ _ "Brian, this is Blaine Yukon, my chief of security. He's been with me since day one and I trust him with my life. Blaine, this is Brian, the guy I told you about who's trying to find a job in security."

_ _ Blaine stuck out a massive hand and Brian reached up and took it. His hand vanished into the black and tanned fur's appendage but he gave it a solid shake none the less.

After letting go of Brian's hand, Blaine seemed to size him up.

_ _ "So, you've got security training. What else you got, shorty?" Blaine asked, not condescendingly but just easily, which didn't really match his exterior. Brian was expecting gruff mean not relaxed and at ease.

_ _ Recovering his ability to speak and reminding himself that he was not short at six foot seven, Brian replied.

_ _ "Well, got the basic passive non violent restraint training. Some boxing and two years of kendo."

_ _ "Kendo, huh? That's actually impressive. Any weapon specialty?"

_ _ Brian shook his head. "Not really. I only took it for two years after my dad died. I didn't get far but maybe if I had to say any one in particular it would be a staff."

_ _Blaine nodded and snorted approvingly.

_ _ "Come show me what you got. Dance floor is clear. Want to see if you can back up what you say you can."

_ _ Brian blanched. "Here? Now?"

_ _Blaine raised one of his tan eyebrows. "Where else would be better?"

_ _ Nodding, Brian realized that Blaine did have a valid point.

_ _ Brian got up out of the seat and followed the hulking Blaine back over to the dance floor which, as he said, was empty and free of people. It was also spotlessly clean. As he got up, of the corner of his eye, he saw Max cross the room and sit in his chair, facing the two of them. Ash turned as well and waited patiently.

_ _ Once they arrived on the dance floor, Blaine took up a position to the left and Brian made to the right.

_ _ "I'm not going to say what I'm going to do, and that's how its going to be in real life in a bar or a bar fight. People fight dirty. You get dirty. Let's roll, short stuff."

Brian didn't know what to expect from the big shifter so when Blaine dropped into a fighting stance, Brian did the same and it began.

_ _ They circled each other like alpha animals, round and round, each one assessing the other. Brian looked for weak points, favored feet or limbs and found nothing. He thought he could use the giant fur's size to his advantage or it would end up with his face smashed into the concrete floor.

_ _ While Brian was analyzing, Blaine choose that moment to move in.

The speed with which he moved was unreal and caught Brian totally unprepared. Brain was expecting from Blaine's almost waddling walk for him to be slower but no, he instantly became a black and tan streak, a streak that slammed into Brian with a powerful shoulder ram, sending Brian tumbling backward on his ass.

With a yelp of surprise, the concrete floor smacked into him and Brian rolled quickly knowing now what he was up against and knowing that there would be no quarter.

_ _He came up to his feet using the momentum of his fall to propel himself back up.

_ _ Blaine grinned as he turned and faced the younger shifter.

_ _ "You got back up. Not bad."

_ _Blaine moved again, closing the distance between the two of them, taking shots at Brian's ribs, his legs and lastly his face.

_ _ Brian struggled to repel the blows, grunting with the effort it took to hold back the much bigger werewolf. It was like fighting a freight train and Brian actually felt beads of sweat pop on his forehead.

_ _ Blaine rained down another blow which Brian blocked, trapping the bigger werewolf's fist between his own arms in an arm lock. Blaine struggled against him and Brian put all the strength he could muster into it, the muscles in his forearms and biceps bulging with the effort. Blaine looked like he was barely making an effort at all.

_ _ "Nice arm lock, let me show you how to beat it."

_ _ Blaine pushed into the arm lock rather than tried to pull away and that forced Brian backward, and with the sudden change in momentum, he found his grip on Blaine's arm failing. Blaine took the chance and sent Brian across the dance floor.

_ _ Brian crashed hard into the concrete floor, sending up a bit of dust as he landed, driving the wind out of him and for a moment he saw stars. He groaned in pain and tried to stand up. He saw Blaine come at him and with a growl of effort, Brian forced himself to stand up. He could feel his own temper rising. He knew this was simply a test but damn. There was no need to show him up for it.

Its your own fault for being weak and foolish, not his. His mind snapped at him and with a snarl of anger that was quite unusual for him, Brian stood and charged Blaine, determined to knock the big fur onto his black and tan khaki pants wearing ass.

_ _Seeing Brian's mistake, Blaine easily took advantage of it and simply caught Brian's thrown right hook and swirled him into a painful arm bar, locking him in place painfully. Brian felt the searing heat shoot up his shoulder as Blaine forced the lock harder, bending Brian over closer to the floor. Brian couldn't break the lock without breaking his arm.

_ _ "Your temper may get you killed. You need to watch that. It's a rookie mistake. You should know that." Blaine said.

_ _ He didn't let Brian's arm go.

_ _ "How do you get out of an arm bar when the someone is bigger stronger and meaner than you? What you do could get you killed. You need to think fast and think right!" Blaine growled.

_ _ Brian could feel the larger shifter's weight on him, the heat from his body, the sharp clean scent of his cologne. He felt something stir inside him and then the little voice was back, the same growling snarling presence from his dreams again. It was the shadowy monster that lurked in his mind and he felt it coming out like a bad dream.

_ _ Brian struggled to get loose and tell Blaine to back off, for a just a moment. That something was wrong but he couldn't. The arm bar was too painful. His heart hammered in his chest and his temper edged into the red. He was failing and he didn not like failing. His pulse began to race.

_ _Brian's eyes flared white.

With a snarling growl he stood up, taking the full weight of Blaine as if it was nothing, Brian shoved upwards and used that moment to swing around, becoming a black blur as he did. He reversed the arm bar and used Blaine's own weight to lift him over his shoulder and slam the bigger werewolf to the ground in a single fluid move.

_ _ Blaine landed hard, the breath driven from him with a yelp of surprise more than pain as Brian stood over him, holding Blaine's arm in a lock that would have torn it from the socket had Blaine tried to move.

_ _Across the room, Max stood up and silently looked at Brian like he was seeing him for the first time, concern and maybe even fear crossing his features. Max knew that Ash couldn't see it from this angle but Max sure as hell could.

_ _ Brian's eyes had turned silver white and were burning like hot white suns with no iris, no pupil. In the shadows that crossed Brian's face, Max saw something else, a primal animalistic rage, raw power waiting to be unleashed.

_ _ Crossing the room quickly he yelled at Brian, calling his name sharply.

_ _ "Brian!"

_ _ Hearing his voice, Brian turned his face to look at him and Max stopped cold. That wasn't Brian's face at all but something else, something darker. The white eyes showed no recognition of Max as Max stood between Brian and Ash so Ash couldn't see.

_ _Blaine was on the ground writhing but smartly not trying to get out of the lock, his eyes closed in agony as Brian's raw power stretched the muscles in his arm to the breaking point.

_ _ A second later, a look of confusion crossed Brian's face. The look turned into a grimace and a moment later, the angry shadow that was swimming over Brian's face melted away as he closed his eyes and shook his head, as if he was dazed.

_ _ When he opened them, his green eyes had returned.

_ _ Looking down, Brian saw that Blaine was quite incapacitated and quickly let him go, standing back looking down at his black furred hands in shock and fear. Max frowned. Something wasn't right. It was as if Brian had no idea where he was or what had happened.

_ _With a grunt, Blaine pulled himself up off the ground and approached a stunned and quiet Brian, rubbing his sore shoulder.

_ _"Damn boy. I've not seen anything like that, well ever. I don't know how you got out of that arm bar but fuck me you got one hell of a set of moves on you. I'd be happy to have you if you want the job."

He said, grinning a bit, slapping Brian on the shoulder good naturedly. He had apparently enjoyed the fight but Max looked at Brian who's eyes were full of fear and then over to Blaine as Blaine walked over to Ash, excited and eager to give Ash his decision. He wondered if Blaine knew how close he had come just then to being seriously injured or worse. Max wondered if Brian even knew he had done it.

_ _ Max closed the distance between them protectively, shielding Brian from Ash's view while he and Blaine talked. Max quickly verified they weren't looking and turned his attention back to Brian.

_ _"Max...what happened?" Brian asked, his voice shaky and afraid.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like that. Your eyes...they turned white...like no iris or pupils...like comic book white. Your face...it changed...became darker and it's like your whole personality did a 180. I thought you were going to kill Blaine..." Max told him in a whispered rush.

_ _ Brian looked from Max to Blaine.

_ _ He felt a cold fear run down his spine like someone had poured ice water down his shirt.

_ _ "Max, I don't remember anything like that. I remember Blaine putting me in an arm bar and then I got angry and then nothing." He said, looking down at his own hands again.

_ _ In his mind, flashes of the warehouse fight blossomed in shades of black and white streaked with scarlet red. He remembered being held down by those thugs and then....then he remembered simply standing in front of Max who was barely conscious and being surrounded by bodies, most them in agony, barely breathing and others, very much not breathing.

_ _ Flashes shot through his mind of a giant hulking wolf like beast with black claws and teeth, with burning white eyes.

_ _ He heard the ghostly echo of a snarl and the distant sounds of claws raking flesh.

_ _ "Max something is wrong with me....I think I killed those people in the warehouse...at least some of them."

_ _ Max frowned. "Not that I'm complaining but what do you mean? I was out of it. I didn't see anything. I woke up and you were standing there trying to get me up."

_ _ Brian shook his head. "I don't know. I've got gaps in my memory and this is the second time now. I think Raven is right."

"She said she found something, something Rakinos tried to hide. I think we should get you to Forest Glen now." Max said and quickly acted normal as both Ash and Blaine approached. Brian did his best to look winded and tired not terrified out of his mind and apparently it worked because neither Blaine nor Ash seemed to notice anything was out of the ordinary.

_ _ "Well, I like you and Blaine thinks you've got what it takes. The job is yours if you want it, man." Ash said and held out his hand. Swallowing, Brian reached out and took it, shaking it slowly.

_ _ "Yeah...I'd like that."

_ _ "Come by next Friday at 8PM. We'll get you set up!" Ash called as he turned and headed back to where the office presumably was. Blaine looked at Max.

_ _ "For a smaller fella, he packs a punch."

_ _ Max forced a smile. "Yeah, he does. He's full of surprises."

_ _ Blaine turned to Brian and put a meaty hand on his shoulder.

_ _ "Don't take nothing that happened here personal, now see? I like to make sure my crew knows what they're getting into. Werewolf bar fights can get nasty, since most of em are stronger than humans and some have nastier temperaments when drunk. You did good, kid. I'm impressed. Don't worry about my arm; had worse. I'll see you Friday night next week."

_ _ With a final good natured slap on the shoulder, this time more gently, Blaine turned to follow Ash, leaving a very shaken Max and Brian alone.

_ _"Let's get out of here. I don't feel very good." Brian said and he turned not waiting for Max as he made for the exit. Max followed him and together they walked out into the afternoon sun. A few moments later, they were in Max's truck and headed up the road to Forest Glen.

_ _ In the dashboard, Max's phone vibrated on silent.

_ _The caller ID read UNKNOWN CALLER.

_ _ Neither Max nor Brian noticed it as they rode in silence. Max cast worried glances at Brian every few minutes and Brian was lost, looking at his own hands as ghostly snarls and roars played through his brain with silent echoing screams and the flying red scarlet of fresh blood.

***************

John Carrey stood over the shoulders of the three shifters who were themselves hunched over a bank of computers. They were completely absorbed in their work, and John's looming presence seemed to be an afterthought for them. His blue-black fur made him look like liquid black as he moved, pacing slowly. His eyes blazed yellow in the dim blue light cast from the computer screens. He had been down here working with the tech team pinging Max Mullen's cell phone, tracking his location every few hours and confirming it with placed calls. So far, his movements made no pattern and no sense at all.

First, he had tracked him leaving Carsonsville. What the hell was in Carsonsville? John felt a part of him stir, a cautious wary part. He thought back to their operation in Carsonsville decades ago. They had to shutter it after a sting operation nearly blew their entire cover. A nosy cop had gotten involved and someone had leaked. That leak was promptly stopped and John wondered if Max's presence in Carsonsville had anything to do with that old operation. Max was a known vigilante, at least to the gang members and other shadow groups that really ran Dawson City. For some reason, the last two weeks or so he had been suspiciously absent and now all of a sudden he just happens to show up in the town where one of their old operations was. John wasn't buying it. Something was afoot.

He glanced at the screen of one of the workers, a brindle colored lycanthrope with close cropped ears and amber eyes. On the screen he saw reams of numbers and GPS tracking telemetry. The smaller shifter seemed to jump a bit when he finally noticed he was being watched and he looked nervously at John.

"Back to work." John told him flatly and without room for any other interpretation. The shifter instantly returned his attention to his computer.

John had other thoughts on his mind as well.

Rakinos was becoming more daring lately. The first few signs of his increased bravado was the attack on the meeting at the Library of Congress. That had taken them weeks to plan out. It had also strained their finances as well, having to buy off certain members of the capitol hill police force and the Secret Service who were sympathetic to the cause of Lupine Freedom. The intention behind the attack to was to remind the cowards drafting that legislation that shifters would not allow themselves to be turned into victims the same way the Japanese did in World War 2. There would be no quarter given.

At least, that was one part of the plan.

The other part of the plan was to intentionally sow chaos and to do that, Rakinos himself had secretly been pushing the registration bill through a certain senator. That senator had more than a few secrets of his own from his fellow legislators, John thought darkly. In short, Rakinos and Lupine Freedom were playing both sides of the people against each other: Creating the division and then working the division. A city divided, no, a country even, was easier to break. Scared people, angry people were easy to control when they didn't think about what they were doing or being asked to do.

It was a master stroke and a far cry from their early days as drug and gun runners. John suspected that Rakinos had actually been planning this far longer than the last few years.

When Madison had came onboard, however, John thought angrily, things had changed. Rakinos and his entire focus had shifted into reviving and improving that damned drug and when Rakinos told him his plan for it, John had been dubious. Apparently, during World War 2 the Nazi SS had a division that came to call themselves the Werwolfs. The plan was formulated in 1944 and was the brainchild of the notorious Heinrich Himmler. The idea was create and train an elite group of SS operatives to go behind enemy lines. Sniping, bombings, assassinations, arson. These were the tools these operatives used. To the public, the German Werwolf troops weren't effective but in truth, they were decimating Allied forces because some of the operatives legitimately were real werewolves, shape-shifters loyal to the Fatherland.

Allied Commandos became desperate and with the war entering its final years, the US military decided to fight fire with fire and hand-picked the elite werewolves from Allied commando units and with them, formed their own werewolf squads. These men were subjected to tests, experimentations and more, all in the hopes to create a super weapon but these attempts failed and eventually the specialized commandos were deployed regardless and did reasonably well.

The Dog Soldiers as they became known as, John's mind drifted.

That drug used then, the methods, they were all crude, lacking a better understanding of genetics and re-sequencing, lacking the knowledge of how they brain worked. That all changed as technology began to improve. Madison and his company had somehow acquired the research and was working on it but failing miserably until Rakinos found him and together, the two of them were able to make the serums work and eventually improved it into its modern form: Wolf's Bane.

John wasn't sure what to make of the project that Rakinos was now working on. For the last two years or so, Rakinos and Madison had been an uneasy pairing, often fighting and yelling at each other hours in frustration as they seemed to finally hit a brick wall with their wonder serum. For one, John thought, the drug was too dangerous. Too potent but it had to be potent in order to stand up to the immune system of a shifter. The problem was, the drug, its enhancing effects and its hypnotic byproducts burned out a shifters immune system. With the addition of a stable radioactive isotope, that problem had been mostly corrected because the radiation suppressed the immune system but without the immune system, the shifter who used in the doses required to get the best results would die in a matter of hours, creating a short lived and quite useless super weapon.

That problem remained a continual source of stress until this whole business with this Brian MacGregor showed up.

MacGregor. That name had struck a cord with John and after some digging, he found out why. It was Jacob MacGregor who was the lead officer in the sting operation years ago that nearly shook their operation apart. How ironic that his son would turn out to be the final piece of the puzzle through random chance. MacGregor, the son, had gotten involved in their plans because he was unfortunate enough to bust a drug lackie that had been selling off Lupine Freedom's stolen product and well, now two and a half weeks later, with a few blood samples, Rakinos had found his solution.

Madison was no longer a road block either. John remembered hearing his screams as he walked through the hallways.

Still, even with a solution to the stabilization problem found, John was wary of the idea of turning shifters into these dog soldiers. Once they were injected with the drug the drug itself turned them into walking locomotives, violent beyond reason, unthinking killing machines, at least in John's opinion. He was hoping that this entire plan wasn't going to backfire, especially since more than twenty humans had just shown up last night and nearly caused a shoot out in the exterior courtyard. The humans had surrendered immediately and had told John that Rakinos had told them to show up if they wanted power and so they had.

Currently, all twenty five of them were down in the big lab off the production room floor and all twenty five of them were currently in various states of agony and screaming as their bodies changed. Rakinos had used the last of unique enzyme in MacGregor's samples to turn them all into shifters and at least four of them into full on Dog Soldiers. The problem, was that now that he had used all that up, Rakinos needed a fresh supply. He needed to bring MacGregor here before he could complete the process of turning the rest of the new shifters into Dog Soldiers.

When Rakinos told John his plan John was shocked and surprised that it might actually work and despite the fact that he was still wary of the idea, John knew that Rakinos did not make decisions lightly and so, John trusted him which is why he had spent the last two days in this cramped hot tech room, directing the techs to track Mullen and presumably, Brian MacGregor, since lately the two of them seemed inseparable.

Growling to himself, John despised long drawn out games even though he could appreciate the need for them but this game was nearly at an end. Rakinos had told him not to engage, simply to track. John would have rather been out on the streets, going after the human trash. His hand unconsciously moved towards his side with the brand scar. He felt it through his fur, raised and ridged. He wondered why it never healed and vanished but in way he was glad for it. Every day it gave him a new source of hate.

A shadow moved in the darkness to John's left and he turned, his yellow eyes glaring in the dark and saw Rakinos step into the room.

"Updates? The four soldiers are ready. Plus the prototype. We have five." Rakinos told him, a deep hunger in his voice, a dark and twisted energy that John hadn't heard before.

John glanced at the screens and then turned back to Rakinos.

"We've tracked them to Carsonsville and back and they just left The Wolves Den and are heading out of the city."

Rakinos frowned. His scarlet eyes burned in the shadows.

"Carsonsville...Which direction are they heading out of the city?" Rakinos asked, crossing his massive arms, his face growing dark with thought.

"North-west."

A smile was born on Rakinos's face, revealing the edges of his pearly white fangs. For the first time, that look genuinely made a shiver run down John's spine.

"I know where they're going. John, I want you to prepare the strike team. I want Brian MacGregor and Max Mullen taken alive. If anyone else gets in your way, feel free to do what you do best."

John nodded. He moved past Rakinos and was headed out the door when he paused and turned.

"Where are we headed?" he asked.

Rakinos took a deep breath almost as if he were savoring the thought.

"Forest Glen."

Chapter 14

"On a cobweb afternoon In a room full of emptiness By a freeway I confess I was lost in the pages Of a book full of death Reading how we'll die alone And if we're good, we'll lay to rest Anywhere we want to go..."

--- Audioslave, "Like a Stone."

_ I thought I was finally beginning to understand._

_ _ The thought kept running through Brian's mind on repeat. It had taken him two weeks to finally get comfortable with his new situation, his new self, his father's hidden past and now, well hell now it was all out the window. There was something wrong with him after all, something that was dangerous, unpredictable and out of control. It was beginning to sink in that he had killed people. After it happened, the notion hadn't bothered him much because he was riding high on adrenaline, on fear and relief that Max was alive. Now? Now he had time to sit and really think about it mostly because he was confronted with the fact that it had very nearly happened again. How many of those men in the warehouse had died?

_ _ He knew at least three. Maybe more. His memories flashed through his head, stabbing at him again with their images tainted red.

_ A body flying through the air with a cry of pain, slamming into a piece of heavy machinery so hard the entire piece flipped end over end._

_ A man lying in a broken pile of wood and metal with a neck twisted at an unnatural angle._

_ Blood spraying in the air like warm rain from a hellish sprinkler._

_ _The truth was staring him in the face at last.

_ _ He was a killer.

_ I am a killer._

_ _Of course, Brian had known that Max had taken lives over the course of his career as a vigilante, and he knew that Max had probably killed those men that had attacked Brian himself. That felt different, disconnected and not so personal. It was more person, he realized when it was your hands that had done the killing and worse, he didn't even know he was doing it. It was like he had been asleep the entire time, floating in his mind while his body did its own thing.

_ _ Brian swallowed down the bile he felt rising in his throat as he thought about what very nearly happened at the club with Blaine. He could have seriously hurt him or worse and he had little or no memory of actually putting him on the ground until Max's voice called through the shadows and touched him.

_ _ As he was lost in thought, the truck bounced over a rut in the road as it made its way towards Forest Glen. Max was driving and they had left the city behind well over an hour ago.

_ _ "Fuck..." he whispered to himself more than anything, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his temples.

_ _"Brian?" Max asked, glancing over at him in the passenger seat before shooting his eyes back on the road.

Brian shook his head at him. "Nothing, just talking to myself."

_ _ "No, you're angry and scared. I'm not normally one to talk things out but you showed me the value of that. Talk to me." Max said quietly, his eyes dipping down the dashboard instrumental panel as they made one of the final turns.

_ _Brian looked up, and his hands fell into his lap.

_ _"What's to say, Max? I thought I was getting the hang of all this. I thought I finally understood it all. And now there's this...something new. Now it's a whole new damn ball game half way into the eighth fucking inning."

_ _Max sighed and for a moment didn't speak. He was collecting his thoughts and Brian shot a look at him, his green eyes flashing in the now twilight blue of the truck cab as the sun went down outside.

_ _ It was obvious that Max was struggling to put together the right words. He wasn't kidding, Brian thought. He wasn't used to talking things out.

_ _"I don't know Brian. I want to say all these nice things and make you feel better but...It feels like I'm lying when I think about it. I've never seen anything like what happened at the club and if that's what happened at the warehouse then, well, I don't know."

_ _ "I killed people, Max. That's what happened. I'm a killer." Brian snarled at him, but really it was more in disgust at himself than at max.

_ _ Max shook his head. "No, you were defending yourself. There's a difference in between a murderer and someone who fights to save others or their own life. You aren't a killer, Brian."

_ _ "Its different when you aren't in control. I didn't even know I had. I just wanted to get you out of there. I didn't even stop to check on any of them. From the moment I set foot on that dock, something was different. I was too amped up to realize it. It was there, the whole time..." Brian lamented, his voice growing quiet as his eyes wandered out through the windshield as the passing fields and woods of darkened trees as the first stars began to peek out.

_ _ "Sometimes, it's worse when you know what you're doing." Max replied quietly.

_ _ His words hung in the truck cab and for the entire remaining trip to Forest Glen, neither of them spoke to the other, each one lost in his own thoughts as true night finally fell. Brian never noticed as they approached the gate to Forest Glen, never noticed as they passed through it and finally seemed to come back to the world as Max pulled his truck to a stop in the circular drive way. As the head lights faded and the truck engine went silent, Brian noticed there were more cars than usual.

_ _ He recognized Raven's red sedan but he didn't recognize the deep midnight blue coupe with the tinted windows.

_ _ "Who's that? Jackson?" he asked warily, wondering if another Rakinos was waiting for them inside_._

Max shook his head. "Nope. Jackson and Molly spend so much time here they just park their cars in the garage. That would be Ash."

That information made Brian turn his head to the side like a curious puppy and when he felt himself do it, he frowned and stopped it.

_ _ "Why's he here? I thought he and Draco didn't get along." He asked opening the truck door. Max followed suit and with a thunk of car doors, both of them were ascending the steps to the heavy front door of the house, the porch lights and garden accent lights casting tasteful shadows on them and the hedges, the statuary and making the old house gleam.

_ _ "I don't know but if he's here that means something big is going down inside, something big enough to make them talk."

_ _ "I hope its not me. I don't know if I can deal with anymore. I just got stabilized and now that's been taken out from under me. I feel like a karmic punching bag." Brian grumbled under his breath.

_ _ "Are you going to tell Raven about the memory lapses and what happened in the club?" Max asked as he reached for the door handle.

_ _ Brian shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I don't have much of a choice. Still mad at her but...I don't know Max. This whole thing keeps getting more complicated every time I think I've gotten it."

_ _ Max let go of the door handle and turned to Brian, putting his arms around him and pulling him into a warm embrace. He nestled his muzzle into the thick fur of Brian's neck.

_ _ "Listen to me. I don't care how bad it is, how crazy it gets. We're in this together, got it?" he said quietly, his voice comforting in Brian's ears.

_ _Brian returned the hug and it felt good, like a balm. "Yeah. I know...but Max...what if I'm a danger to you and everyone else...You saw what happened at the club..."

_ _ Max let go and looked Brian in the eyes. "I've faced scarier things than you.....I think." He added with a small smile.

_ _ Brian nodded. "Well, standing out here isn't going to get it over with. Let's get on with it then...and thank you. That meant a lot."

_ _ "Come on, pup."

_ _With that, the two of them entered the manor the door closing behind them with a solid click of the locks and tumblers.

_ _ Brian felt his ears perk forward and there was Roy coming around the corner. He was dressed in flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up and a pair of old beat up jeans.

_ _ "Oi, there ya be, laddie. Everyone's in the library waiting on ye."

_ _Nodding, Brian and Max both moved to catch up to him, and it still amused Brian to see Roy. It was like a living walking talking stereotype. He felt the corners of his mouth pick up a bit despite his inner turmoil.

_ _ "Its good to see you again, Roy." Max said, noticing that Brian was quickly falling into a depressive quiet and the tension was becoming too much to bear.

_ _"Aye, and you too."

_ _ "Ash is here, huh?" Max asked as they walked past the initial parlor where Brian had first met Rakinos and Draco and moved down the hall, past the stair case and turning right past the gymnasium.

_ _ "He is. Tis a bloody rare thing to get his striped arse up here these days. Imagine it, they aren't even fighting. For now." Roy told them as they passed through a wide arch and came to a set of double doors.

_ _ "Roy, what's going on?" Brian asked at last, looking the Scottie looking house manager in the eyes.

_ _ Roy looked as if he dearly wanted to tell him but shook his head.

_ _ "Aye, lad, I think its best if we let the doctors do the talking."

_ _ With that, Roy swung the double doors wide and they stepped into the main library of Forest Glen.

_ _ The writer in Brian peeked out from under the rock it had been hiding under for weeks as he got his fist real look at the scope of the room. The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of books. The room itself was easily two stories high and books lined every square inch of that space. The vaulted ceilings were held up by thick deeply stained and aged wooden braces. Each one was dust free and shined to a mirror finish.

_ _The floors were similarly shone and were made of the same dark wood that had to date back to the original house. The shelves were built into the walls and each one was labeled and Brian saw immediately that there was a system in place. Someone had gone through the trouble of creating a new cataloging system and implanted it. There was a wide catwalk that ran around the upper shelves of the room connected to a curved spiral staircase to the main floor.

_ _ Soft amber accent lights lit the shelves from within giving the thousands of old books a warm glow. Hanging lights from the ceiling lit the rest of the room and there were only soft shadows at the edges of the library. Two giant ornate rugs covered a vast majority of the floor and at one end there was a large fire place and on the other, a long desk with at least two ultra modern high tech computers with two chairs. Each computer was dark for the moment. An entire bank of floor to ceiling windows lined the outside wall, giving anyone in the library a fantastic view of the grounds and woods behind the house and there, far down the fields, the lake shimmered in the rising moonlight.

_ _ In the middle of the room was a long conference table, lined with ten chairs and in these chairs, Brian saw that everyone had gathered and sat and were waiting for him.

_ _ He felt his stomach lurch a bit and it was like he was suddenly the center of the attention in the room, like an ant under a magnifying glass and he realized that's exactly what was happening.

_ _ Draco sat at the head of the table, his arms resting on the oak wood in a relaxed and open manner. His silver fur shone under the warm lights and his pony tail rested over his right shoulder. He wasn't dressed in a suit this time but he was dressed in a neat white shirt that was tucked into his dark business pants. He looked every bit like the consummate professional that he was.

_ _ Molly sat at his side, as always in a dark pant suit, her dark blazer open revealing a clean pressed white shirt and blouse underneath. Her gold cross winked in the light as she raised her head to look at him from her phone. She nodded at him in welcome as Brian's eyes found Jackson.

_ _ Jackson looked exhausted but his eyes were alert behind his round glasses and they looked nearly wild as if he was barely sitting still. His shirt was rumpled as were his khaki pants. The fur on his head was also slightly ruffled. He was fiddling with a laptop in front of him, going to town on the keys, click click clicking.

_ _ Brian shot his eyes to the other end of the table where Ash Riley sat, not looking at his brother but rather watching Brian himself. Ash had changed out of his work clothes and was now dressed in a casual blue polo and black jeans. He had kept his piercings in and in the soft light of the room, his gray fur and black tiger stripes were strongly contrasted even more than they were before. His thick arms twitched a bit. It was obvious he was having a hard time being here and he was doing all he could to try and maintain a professional presentation.

_ _ Roy had found himself a seat near Ash and there, Brian saw at last, was Raven.

_ _ He hadn't seen her in days and honestly, she looked rough. She was currently in her human form. Her chestnut brown hair hung around her shoulders in a loose pony tail, as if not much thought had gone into it other than to get her hair out of her face. Her eyes were tired and her face looked drawn.

_ _ She wasn't in her hospital coat but just a red pull over and a pair of simple black pants. Brian had never seen her so tired and he felt the slightest twinge of guilt for yelling at her earlier. She looked like hell.

_ _ "Please, have a seat, both of you. I'm sorry for having so many people here to discuss the situation but since it would impact everyone here, especially you Brian, you can see the need to keep everyone in the loop. My brother is here because he told me you were one of his new employees. He needs to know as well." Draco said calmly, meeting Brian's eyes.

_ _ Brian nodded but said nothing as he and Max each took a seat next to each other.

_ _ Unable to take the awkward tension any longer, Brian broke it.

_ _ "Can someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked, his voice shaking a little.

_ _ Nodding and his eyes understanding, Draco replied.

_ _"I think its time we all understand what's happening here. I think we finally have the answers we weren't able to provide you at first. If you can tell us what you learned from your mother, then what we have learned here may start to come together."

_ _ "How did--" Brian started, a bit of anger rising up in him and then he realized that from the sheepish look on Jackson's face and the stoic professionalism on Molly's that the two of them had probably been tracking both Max and himself after they refused to answer Raven's calls. "Never mind. Fine. I'll go first."

_ _ He glared at Jackson and Molly both. Jackson seemed to shrink a bit from it but Molly stood her ground.

_ Its no wonder she was a good agent before she left the FBI, _ Brian thought_._ She was like steel.

_ _ Taking a breath and putting his emotions and squirming fear and new self loathing aside, Brian did as he was asked.

_ _ "You all know my dad died when I was fifteen. All my life I thought he was a human. My mom was human. I thought I was too. It turns out, both of them were pretty involved in shifter activism before I was born and there was a lot of family drama because my dad as it turns out was a shifter. He gave it up to try and give me a normal life...a life away from everything and when I was born and got old enough and didn't show any signs of being a shifter, he and my mom decided it was for the best to make sure I didn't know about his past or hers. They didn't want me to have to face the stigma and bullshit they did. So Raven was right; I did have a dormant shifter gene. From my dad."

_ _Across the table, Raven nodded, and Brian could tell a small feeling of relief went through her. Or maybe it was just an academic enjoying the feeling of being right.

_ _ "So, the shifter in your family was your father. That makes sense. In families, the shifter gene is a dominant one. Yours must have been mutated to be dormant, which may explain a few other things." Raven told him quietly and he noticed she had trouble meeting his eyes.

_ _It was obvious the animosity between them was still there, and he wasn't the only one feeling it.

_ _ "What do you mean? Now we just know how I'm a shifter and not a pile of ripped apart DNA goop on the floor. That doesn't explain other things." Brian shot towards her.

_ _ "What things?" Raven asked and by her tone Brian could tell she knew something. They all did. The atmosphere in the room was far too tense, too much on edge.

_ _His voice shaking, he asked the question again. "What did you find...?"

_ _ Closing her eyes and taking a breath, Raven opened them and looked at Jackson. She nodded and Jackson stole a quick glance at Brian before doing something on his laptop.

_ _With a click, the center of the table slid apart to reveal a hidden compartment out of which rose a small rounded projector. Brian recognized them as one of the new HoloMax projectors. They were cutting edge tech that could project three dimensional interactive holograms and as far as he could tell, they weren't on the market yet. He recognized it because of a huge news story a few weeks ago, before the mess at the hospital and remembered thinking that if that tech was developed, it could revolutionize virtual reality gaming and it had caught his interest.

_ _ With a few key strokes from Jackson, the projector came to life with a flicker of blue-white light and a moment later, a projection of a DNA strand was hovering above the table in extremely intricate detail. To Brian it looked like every single DNA model he had ever seen.

_ _ "What's that?" he asked.

_ _ "That, is a normal DNA strand. I'm assuming you know enough about DNA from high school biology to remember the basics. DNA is a carrier of genetic information that is encoded into nucleotides, each one of which is a nucleobase: cytosine, guanine, adenine and thymine. These bases are held together by sugars called deoxyribose and a phosphate group."

_ _ As Raven spoke, she stood up, and suddenly Brian felt like he was in a college class again. As she identified each nucleobase, it lit up, each one a different color: red, blue, orange and green.

_ _ "In baseline humans and every shifter that has ever been studied, in fact, in every complex life-form on the face of the planet, this group of nucleotides, bases and pairs always occur in a double helix formation that is zipped and unzipped as proteins carry out the genetic instructions on those bases."

_ _ She looked at Jackson and Jackson made a few key strokes and the hologram shrunk as a new hologram appeared next to it.

_ _ Brian frowned as he stared it. He had never seen anything like it in his life.

_ _ It was a DNA strand or something like one. Instead of the spiral staircase of a double helix however, this strand was truly strange with a third protein strand between the two that were normally there, forming a strange sort of triple helix. This odd strand had all four colors from the standard strand yet this one also had a new nucleobase, one that was highlighted in purple that run up and down the length of the third strand but radiated out to all the other bases as well like a tree branch.

_ _ "What is that?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

_ _"That," Raven said, choosing her words carefully, "Is a triple helix DNA strand. Triple helix DNA has only been theorized about since 1953 and back then, it was because at the time, Watson and Crick hadn't yet discovered the structure of a DNA strand. The triple helix was proposed that year by the two of them and a few other scientists. Later that same year, they did end up discovering the structure of DNA which as every geneticist and student is taught is a double helix ladder."

_ _ "So it's a theoretical construct..." Max asked, leaning in. Science wasn't his strong point but this was all about Brian and he had a sinking feeling starting to come into his gut.

_ _"Not anymore. The first triple helix DNA was observed in 1957 in the reproductive process of e.coli, but it dissolved soon after and we still aren't sure why it even happened in the first place. Triple helix DNA could be used in modern medicine for gene therapy to regulate the expression of genetics far more efficiently than splicing, it would allow doctors to weave together different DNA strands, to make make hybrid species of plants for better agriculture. But all that has been just theory....until now."

_ _ "Where did you get that from then?" Brian asked, dreading the answer as a part of him already knew it.

_ _ "That, Brian, is your DNA. When I first took your samples weeks ago at the apartment, your hormone levels were surging. At the time, I thought it was because your were about to change for the first time but I was wrong. The hormone surge, the mood swings, all of that was a result of your DNA itself changing in ways that I never considered. When I took your blood again at the manor days ago, I tested your hormone levels and they were normal but that protein, the one I told you about, was nearly ubiquitous in every sample I tested and I couldn't figure out why or what it was or what it did." Raven told him as Jackson clicked his keys again.

_ _The hologram shifted, getting rid of the one strand, leaving Brian's triple helix DNA floating above the table. This time, the purple nucleobase was highlighted.

_ _ "When Rakinos was here helping us, or supposed to be at any rate, he ran simulations. We didn't know he had ran them because he forcibly wiped them from our system and nearly burned out two of our super computer cores downstairs. Jackson and Molly were able to recover the data and this is what they found. Jackson, bring up the normal human DNA sample from Molly."

_ _ "I had Molly give us a sample of her DNA to prove what the simulations showed and to be honest, I don't know what to say so I'll let the simulation play for you." She finished.

_ _ The triple helix DNA moved to the left and in its place sprang up a normal double helix strand. One of the purple nucleobases from the triple helix strand jumped over to the double helix strand. Suddenly, the entire double helix strand began to fall apart, unzipping at the base pairs. It was like watching a ladder be cut in two and then spread flat but instead of dissolving, the now unzipped DNA began to change. The purple nucleobase began to replicate itself along the fallen strands and soon it began to pull them together again, reinforcing them, strengthening the bonds.

_ _ Brian watched open mouthed as the formerly human DNA strand began to change and when it was done, a new triple helix DNA strand floated side by side with the original, purple nucleobase and all.

_ _Realization dawned on him and he felt a shiver run through him.

_ _ "Molly doesn't have any shifter heritage...does she?" he asked quietly.

_ _ "No, I don't." Molly told him.

_ "That means that...that purple protein...can turn normal people into shifters...."_

Raven nodded gravely. "Yes. Instead of ripping apart the DNA like normal, it actually restructures it, allowing the DNA to survive and alters it into a form like your own. Essentially if that was ever done in a live person, that person would be turned into a shifter, just like you, permanently but that's not all that protein does."

_ _ She paused for a moment and looked at Jackson and then at Brian.

_ _ "Brian, have you been having memory lapses? Especially when you get emotional or angry? Black outs?"

_ _ Brian felt his heartbeat begin to quicken and his pulse speed up. The flashes of the warehouse came back and hit him hard in the gut. He broke out in goose flesh, the fur on his arms standing up. He didn't want to answer the question and instead gave into his frustration with Raven.

_ _ "When I went after Max. I told you in that phone call, he would have died if I hadn't." he told her.

_ _ "What do you mean you went after Max?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raising as he looked from Max, to Raven and back to Brian.

_ _ Raven suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Brian couldn't help it and snorted at her.

_ _"So, you didn't tell just me then? That makes me feel better." He said bluntly.

_ _ "Raven what is he talking about?" Draco asked as he turned to her.

_ _Sighing she looked at Draco and then to Max and settled at last for looking at Draco. Brian watched her stiffen as she spoke and his eyes narrowed.

_ _ "You all know that the new drug on the street has been killing people. Normal humans. My team at the hospital was barely making any headway. I've put more people in the morgue in the past two weeks that I have in my entire residency. I couldn't stand to bury one more person without knowing why. I asked the police for information and was rebuffed; they said they had no idea. The drug was the same one that the man was on when Brian and Mr. Connors intervened and if it hadn't been for that drug, Brian wouldn't be here. I asked Max to help me track it to the source so we could contact the police and have them end it before my morgue ended up full."

_ _ The silence in the room was powerful, heavy and it made the air feel thick to breathe.

_ _ "You asked Max to go out into the streets, alone, to track down this drug and didn't tell any of us?"

_ _ "Yes."

_ _ "Max, I'm assuming you did it." Draco stated, not even bothering to ask because he knew the answer from reading Max's face.

_ _ With a sigh, Draco, threw his hands down on the table and for the first time his tone changed from its gentle warm tones and Brian heard the first hints of surprise, fear and maybe a hint of anger. He leaned on his left hand, fingers under his chin as he thought before he spoke.

_ _ "Raven that was absolutely foolish of you to ask it and Max, even though I know what you do in your spare time at night, that was even more foolish of you to do it. I'm glad you're safe and thank you, Brian for following him but I cannot believe how irresponsible all of you acted."

_ _ Brian noticed that Max wouldn't meet Draco's eyes when he was speaking and was looking down at the table, unusually cowed.

_ _ "It won't happen again but I do need to know what you both found there. It may have something to do with what I'm about to tell you." Raven said quietly and honestly.

_ _Max spoke up next, trying to keep his gaze away from the disappointed Draco.

_ _ "When I first got there, it was just human gang members. The 86ers. The same guys that went after Brian to begin with. I watched them for a bit and then Rakinos showed up."

_ _"What did he want?" Molly asked, looking from Brian to Max.

_ _ "He started talking to them. Something about them stealing something from him called Wolf's Bane. I think he was talking about the drug. Then he made them an offer. Come with him or he kills them. Something about giving them power." Max finished, shrugging.

_ _ "Then what?" Draco put in.

_ _ "I don't remember because the next thing I know I got hit from behind. I wasn't paying attention. I let my temper get in the way and all I could see was Rakinos. I never heard that asshole come up behind me until I was being thrown though a goddamn window. Rakinos told them to kill me slow and bring my head to him. Then he left. After that, it's pretty much a blur...except for one thing..."

_ _ Max swallowed as he looked up at the triple helix DNA strands floating above the table. The images would flicker once every few seconds.

_ _When he spoke again, he looked at Raven.

_ _ "There was something else with him. I don't know what it was. It was huge. Eight, nine feet tall at least. Maybe six hundred seven hundred pounds of pure muscle. It had a shifter's face only bigger. Its teeth and claws were black. It had some kind of device around its wrist and it had that same blue shit you asked me to find pumping inside. It killed a gang member single handedly without even trying. Punched his heart out and then tore him two. I've never seen anything like it."

_ _ Raven blanched and swallowed.

_ _ "Now I understand why Rakinos deleted the simulations he ran. Now I know what he was hiding." She said and looked at Jackson. "Play the final simulation."

_ _ Jackson keyed up the final sequence and the hologram changed as the test DNA strand vanished. Now, two models appeared, one marked A and the other B. Each model was the basic shape of a shifter in wolf form.

_ _"Okay, for all intents and purposes, model A is Brian and his triple helix DNA with that protein, the one marked in purple. Model B is a normal baseline shifter with normal DNA." Jackson said as he finished keying up the simulation.

_ _ "This one was the one that was most degraded."

_ _ "Play it." Raven said solemnly.

_ _ Everyone in the room watched as the holograms began to move. First, Model A began to turn red and yellow and orange.

_ _ "Each color represents a stress hormone in the flight or fight response: Adrenaline, cortisol and norepinephrine. These are the stress hormones that our bodies make in extreme situations in order to protect ourselves by engaging an automatic flight or fight response. In humans and shifters, this gives us the energy burst to run away or to stand our ground. In some cases, it can give short lasting bursts of extreme strength or stamina. That's how little old ladies can lift cars off of their grandchildren in moments of sheer panic." Raven said as the levels in the Brian model reached their peak.

_ _ "Brian, in you, this response is different. The extreme levels of stress hormones seem to interact with and activate that protein and when they do, instead of focusing that autonomic response outward, your body for some reason focuses it inward."

_ _ Brian watched in horror as the hologram of him began to change, warping, growing, transforming.

_ _ His normal six foot seven 310 pound form distorted and began to bulk out even more. His arms grew longer, thicker. His claws extended, his teeth grew. In mere moments, the model that represented him was no longer recognizable as even a basic shifter, let alone himself.

_ _Now the model stood hovering over them all as an eight and a half foot high monster with a thick broad body that towered over any other person Brian could think of, even Rakinos. The model now had wicked curving claws and gnashing teeth. It was like a hulk, a living breathing super werewolf on steroids.

_ _ "Oh my god...."

_ The memory lapses and flashes._

_ The warehouse._

_ The club._

_ _ "As you can see, once the stress levels hit their peak, they trigger a third transformation above and beyond a normal change for a shifter into a third form that for all intents and purposes is something akin to a super form. Extreme strength, speed, stamina, senses. The downside to this form is that the sheer levels of stress hormone in the body would prevent most people from behaving rationally. It would be highly unlikely that in this state, the person could even begin to control themselves. The adrenaline levels alone would be enough to kill most people which is why I ask again: Brian, have you had any memory lapses or black outs?"

_ _ Brian swallowed looking at the floating hologram in shock. It was the monster from his dreams, the one that stalked him in the shadows. It was the voice that whispered to him, seducing him to let it out.

_ _ This time, he didn't avoid the question. When he spoke, his voice was small and shook, barely above a whisper as all eyes in the room fell upon him in that dreadful pregnant silence.

_ _ "Yes. In the fight at the warehouse, they caught me by surprise. They held me down and were going to kill Max. He was injured badly...he couldn't fight back. Seeing him there, dying, defenseless, it made me angry...and then I don't remember anything until I was standing over him with bodies all around me..."

"Bodies? I saw a news report about bodies being found in a warehouse. That was you?" Draco asked, understanding dawning on his face.

_ _ "Must have been..." Brian told him distantly.

_ _ "Has it happened any other time?" Raven asked.

_ _ Looking at Ash and then to Max, who nodded for Brian to go ahead, Brian told them.

_ _ "Yeah. I've seen that thing in my dreams...it stalks me in the shadows there. But when I went to apply with Ash earlier for the job, Blaine, his security chief and I did some sparring, to see if I could cut it. There was a moment when he had me in an arm lock, when I got frustrated. I wasn't doing so well and I felt something slip....then the next thing I remember was Max calling my name and seeing Blaine on the ground. I nearly pulled his arm out of his socket."

_ _ Brian looked down the table at Ash who looked thoughtful and was otherwise quiet. Brian could feel himself being studied.

"When Max called my name, for a moment, I didn't recognize him and then I was me again."

_ _ Everyone looked at Max as Draco asked him, "Max, do you remember Brian changing forms like the model?"

_ _Max shook his head. "Not exactly. I was out of it by that point in the fight at the warehouse but at the club...Brian..." Max said looking at Brian with a bit of unease on his face. "Your eyes...I could tell you were getting angry but your eyes turned white...its like they lost their irises and pupils and just turned into white eyes like a damn comic book only brighter. That's when I knew something was wrong, especially after you flipped Blaine over your back like he was nothing and he's easily twice our size."

_ _Brian hung his head.

_ _ This was too much. It was happening all over again. Just when he thought he had things under control, life threw him a goddamn curve ball. He knew the simulation was right. It had to be. That explained the memory lapses, the disconnected feeling he had.

_ _ The monster from his dreams was real and worse, he thought, despair and disgust and terror shooting through him all at once, worse, the monster was him.

_ _"Brian are you okay?" Draco asked gently as he could, reaching a hand over and placing it on Brian's shoulder. For a moment, Brian didn't answer, his fear threatening to over come him.

_ _ He shook his head no.

_ _ "Not really..." he said. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up. "What happens to model B?"

_ _Raven nodded and continued.

_ _ "Your third form, is transmissible. If that protein that's in your DNA is applied to a shifter that already has an active shifting gene, they will become like you with a third form." Jackson pressed a few buttons and the purple protein moved over to Model B and moments later, Model B transformed further as well.

_ _ "What about shifters with a mutated gene, like Max?" Brian asked, panic rising in his throat. Max suddenly seemed to remember that Brian had bitten him to help him heal and swallowed.

_ _ "After I got back from the fight, I was in pretty bad shape. Brian bit me to induce healing. I didn't know that was a thing but it worked." Max told them, looking at Raven for answers.

_ _ "Based on the simulations Rakinos ran, you'll be fine. A shifter with a mutated shifting gene like yours where's locked in the wolf form wouldn't turn you. Like you said, the most effect you might see is temporary pneumonic transfer and your healing factor would be temporarily increased. Nothing more." She told him.

_ _ "So..." Brian said, sitting back in his chair, dumbfounded. "Why is this even happening? Please tell me you know something. I don't think I can stand much more of not having answers after we finally got this far."

_ _ "Luckily for you, I do have a hypothesis." Raven said almost snappily but not in anger, more out of pride that she could provide an answer for him.

_ _ "Rakinos didn't bother Max's test samples I took, and I looked at them and yours and what I think happened is this. Brian I think where your gene was dormant and mutated to begin with to be that way, that when Max bit you that instead of killing you as it should have, it activated that mutated dormant shifter gene in your DNA, not only turning you into a shifter but also activating the mutation in the gene itself."

_ _ Max swallowed. "So...this is my fault?" he asked quietly.

_ _ Brian shook his head and below the table, his hands were out of sight and he placed a hand on Max's thigh gently. Neither of them noticed Draco's curious glance which met with Raven's mid-way across the table it seemed.

"No. Its not your fault. I'd be dead if you hadn't saved me." He told Max gently.

_ _ "How does Rakinos play into all this?" Max asked darkly as Brian put both of his hands on the table.

_ _ "Rakinos did more than just hide the simulations. He also stole both of your samples when he left. Now that we know the drug is actually used in some way in that creature you saw, Max, it's a safe bet that Rakinos used Brian's DNA to enhance an existing shifter and that this "Wolfs Bane" somehow keeps it under control." Molly interjected, a dark look crossing her features.

_ _ Draco nodded. " I agree. And with that said, we have two major problems to deal with. The first is obvious: Brian. Now that we know what triggers this third state, we need to find a way for him to keep it suppressed until we can understand it better, and I think he will agree its for his best interests as well as ours. Is that a fair thing to assume, Brian?"

_ _ Brian nodded. "Yeah. I suppose it is. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially any of you. I'll do whatever's needed."

_ _ "What's the second problem?" Max asked, having a suspicion as to where this was going and he didn't like it.

_ _ "The second problem," Raven told him, "Is Rakinos. We had Molly investigate the movements of Lupine Freedom and their attacks. We cross referenced them with what we know of Rakinos and his movments. We think that he may be involved with them somehow and now that he knows what he has, he isn't likely to just stop. He's going to be coming for more of Brian's DNA and failing that, Brian himself. We think he wants to make more of those super werewolves. Brian, you are in extreme danger."

Max growled deep in his throat. It was a low and penetrating sound, a sound of anger and rage.

_ _ Jackson piped up. "You know that new medical bracelet that they put out for diabetics that tracks their insulin level and then doses them as needed?"

_ _Everyone turned to him and Raven nodded. "Yes?"

_ _"Well, what if I could modify one to track Brian's hormone levels, the stress hormones and once it hits a thresh-hold to dose him with a safe amount of sedative, just enough to get him calm again but not to knock him out?"

_ _ Brian thought about that. "That actually sounds like a good idea. Could you do it?"

_ _ Jackson shrugged. "If Raven would help me with the medical parts, the hardware and software should be easy enough."

_ _ Draco nodded. "Good, make it a priority. As for now, I think we all need a break. Its been a revealing meeting and I think we could use some time to process all of this, especially Brian."

_ _ "Agreed. My ass is getting sore sitting here listening to all the medical talk." Ash said, standing up, rubbing feeling back into his legs. He didn't look at Draco but he paused at Brian and looked at him.

_ _ "Don't worry about your job, man. I'm not getting rid of you for this mess. I think these nerds," he said with the slightest bit of gentle sarcasm, "I think they'll figure it out and get you sorted. I still want you at work next Friday, hulk wolf or no hulk wolf."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Jackson asked, his ears perking up.

"No." Brian and Raven both told him simultaneously.

_ _ Ash clapped him on the shoulder and left the library, heading towards the kitchen, leaving Brian sitting there feeling very small but at least not totally dejected.

_ _ "I'm going to go run a systems check on the security system. I want to be prepared for anything at this point." Molly said and got up and headed out of the library and headed left up the hallway.

_ _ "I'm going to head to tech room and see if I can work up the schematics on that bracelet. Brian, I may need you to come by in a few for a measurements. I can probably print the thing out if we can get the medical parts down. Raven?" Jackson asked as he closed his laptop and powered down the projector.

_ _ Raven looked at him, nodding.

_ "_Sure. I'll be there in a few minutes. I need to talk to Brian alone for a few if that's okay."

_ _ Roy and Jackson both got up and were out the door together, leaving Draco, Max, Brian and Raven alone at the table. Draco motioned at Max.

_ _ "Max, I wanted to talk to you about a few things as well. Can I see you outside?"

_ _ Max nodded and followed him out of the room with a glance back at Brian who nodded at him that he would be fine.

_ _ At last, Brian and Raven were alone together and for a time, they sat apart from each other, neither speaking.

_ _ Raven finally broke the awkward silence.

_ _ "Brian...I don't know what else to say but that I'm sorry I didn't trust you. You trusted me from the start and I should have shown you the same courtesy. It was wrong of me. It was stupid."

_ _ Brian took a breath and nodded. "Yeah it was. Raven, I'm not afraid of danger. I'm not afraid to get hurt. Max...Max is special to me." He said the last part slowly and carefully.

_ _ Raven's eyes widened. A tiny smile crossed her face.

_ _"I thought something was different between the two of you. I could sense it. You love him don't you?"

_ _ Brian scowled. "That is not the point, Raven--"

_ _ "But you do...and he loves you too." She pressed.

_ _ Throwing up his hands, Brian told her. "Yes. We've really connected in the past two weeks. Something changed and...he's amazing. I can't explain it anymore than that."

_ _ Her embarrassment faded away and Raven was smiling again, the same smile Brian was used to.

_ _ "Are you guys..."

Brian glared at her but finally relented. "Yeah...we are."

_ _ "I knew it. I absolutely knew it. He's been acting strange forever now and every time it was around you. I didn't mean to get off track but...that's really awesome. I'm glad for it. He's been alone for a very long time and seeing him like he has been recently, minus the past few days where you guys were MIA, he's been better."

_ _ Brian stood up and rested his arms on the back of the chair.

_ _ "So...." He said quietly. "About that fight we head....Right now I've got to deal with a load of new shit...and I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry, Raven."

_ _ Raven got up and came over to him and Brian turned to her.

_ _ "Me too. It won't happen again. It was stupid of me." She told him.

"Awesome. You want to go down and help Jackson with that bracelet? I don't want to wolf out like that anymore. I'll come with." Brian suggested, trying to force a smile onto his face. He wanted to smile for real but he was finding it harder to do than he expected.

_ _ "Sure." Raven said and he followed her out of the library and as they made their way towards to the tech lab, Brian looked over and saw Draco and Max deep in conversation though he couldn't make out what they were saying. Max saw Brian looking and nodded at him, his blue eyes reassuring him.

Sighing, Brian turned his attention back to following Raven. One thing kept looping through his mind as they walked.

_ Change, is the only constant._

Chapter 15

---

---

"What were you thinking?"

Draco and Max stood off to the side of the library, leaving Raven and Brian inside alone. Draco stood before Max, his arms crossed and Max was before him, not meeting his eyes.

_ _ "I do it every night. It's not like its anything new for me." Max replied, a slight rise of emotion in his own voice that was defensive.

Draco shook his head. "I know you do and I wish you wouldn't. I know what it means for you, out there-"

_ _ Max suddenly looked up at Draco and their eyes did meet.

_ _ "No, Draco, you don't. If I'm not out there, the people, including shifters like us, they suffer. The gangs prey on them, the law looks the other way because they aren't rich like-" Max felt himself begin to say something he would regret and quickly canned it.

"Like me." Draco finished for him, his ears laying back a bit. Max huffed through his nose and turned away from Draco, looking instead at the painting on the wall. Max didn't recognize it and it didn't matter. What mattered is that right now looking into those ocean-blue green eyes of Draco was too hard. Getting kicked in the face was preferable. Max could hear something in Draco's voice that cut deeper than any bullet or knife ever could.

Disappointment.

_ _ The thought and notion was the deadliest bullet of all and it always found its mark, Max thought, a deep frown cutting across his features as his ears felt like they were on fire.

_ _ Brian and Raven's voices were muffled through the walls as the silence between father and step-son grew strained until at last Draco broke it.

_ _"Max...please...look at me."

_ _ Sighing, Max turned to face his mentor.

_ _ "I know that you do what you do because you don't want to feel the pain of your past. It's your way of dealing with the ghosts. I know its dangerous and I know I can't stop you, I just want you to be safe and come home when you're through. One day I want it so that you don't have to fight those ghosts anymore but until then, please, do one thing for me?"

_ _"I disappointed you, I know. I should have said something." Max said, not looking Draco in his eyes but rather looking at his shoulder.

_ _ Draco pulled his head back and cocked it unconsciously a bit. A moment later, his ears fell to the side as he smiled warmly.

_ _ He reached out and put a hand on Max's shoulder.

_ _ "No, Max. I'm not disappointed in you. What I am, is scared for you. You, Raven, Jackson, even Molly and Ash, you all are the only family I have left. I've lost so much and I know you have to. I can't stand to lose anymore. I can't lose the only son I've ever had."

_ _His words made Max look up and their eyes met.

_ _ "Especially not when he's finally found a spark of happiness in his life that he's so desperately needed." Draco finished and squeezed Max's shoulder.

_ _ Max felt his spine stiffen and a mental splash of cold water hit him. The library doors opened and Raven and Brian came out, both of them heading for the tech lab. Brian turned and met Max's gaze. Max felt his heart jump and in spite of himself, he felt the urge to grin but swallowed it, giving Brian a silent nod instead as he and Raven rounded the corner, leaving Draco and Max alone again.

_ _ "See what I mean?" Draco asked gently, watching them leave and then looking back at Max.

_ _ Max frowned and opened his mouth to protest but then when he saw Draco's smile, he stopped.

_ _ "It's that obvious?" he asked meekly.

_ _ "You could say that. You've been different ever since he showed up. You've been smiling, and when he looks at you or you look at him, your entire posture and presence changes, Max. I don't think I've ever seen you this engaged and happy and if I may say so, it makes an old man very proud, son." Draco told him and at that last word, Max felt the heat of embarrassment and fear of disappointment leave his body. It was replaced instead by a warm gentle understanding, not only of the time between Draco and himself but rather where he really stood with Draco and he finally understood why Draco had pulled him aside.

_ _ "So...I didn't disappoint you too badly then, huh?" Max asked, uncharacteristically of him.

_ _ Draco raised an eyebrow. "No, just scared me. I know that eventually you'll be back out there and maybe your right in some ways. Just remember, you don't have to go at it alone. Not anyone. Now....things are different."

_ _ Max followed Draco's line of sight and both of their gazes fell upon where Brian had been a moment before.

_ _Max felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

_ _"Yeah...they are different, aren't they?"

_ _ Draco nodded silently.

_ _ "If I can give you one piece of advice, father to son so to speak," Draco began, waiting for Max.

_ _ "Sure." Max replied as Draco turned and headed for the kitchen. He had a brother that needed talking to, or trying to at least.

_ _ "Don't ever think you're alone. You are never alone and all of us, we're all right here. I'm right here. Don't ever let it go." Draco said and turned, and a moment later he was around the corner, leaving Max to think in the silence of the warm wood paneled hallway.

_ _ He turned a bit and looked at the painting a bit closer. It was a piece he had never seen anywhere else. It was an oil painting of an ocean landscape surrounded by trees and white beaches with a sunrise on the orange horizon. In it, two figures in shadow were frozen in a single moment in time and when he saw the name, he smiled.

_ Reunited with the Father. _

**********

_ _ Forest Glen, Rakinos thought. Even as he looked at it from the cover of the tree line, he felt his upper lip curl, exposing a fang. It was a giant old manor house, designed and built by Draco's father who himself had been an architect. Draco's father, a Scottish immigrant, had designed the house and grounds as a peaceful haven for his family in a rapidly changing world. He had also designed much of the older buildings in Dawson City and even quite a few in places as far away as New York City. The grounds were well kept, clean and manicured. The lake sat under the light of the moon, shimmering like a gateway to another world.

_ _ Draco sat here and tried to make the world a better place for shifters and humans and what did he know about how the real world was, Rakinos thought distantly. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had never known hardship.

_ Well, except his sister._

_ _ Rakinos smiled a bit to himself. That was only a primer compared to the full lesson in harsh reality that he was about to teach the old man. Of course, the primary goal was the capture of Brian MacGregor and Max Mullen. Anyone else was a walking causality, breathing on borrowed time.

_ _ He turned his head, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness as he took in his forces. There were at least twenty shifter soldiers, each fully dressed in jet black combat armor and each one carrying a carbon black HK G36 rifle. He admired the weapons and it had taken him years to build up his weapons trade to the point that he could get them and now, he drank in their lethality. Each one was capable of firing over 750 rounds a minute and with the expanded capacity magazines, laser holographic sights and recoil reducing compensators, each shifter solider was a walking living weapon.

_ _ Twenty five pairs of gleaming yellow eyes stared back at him in the dark and there behind them, Rakinos thought, feeling a surge of pride, were the real living weapons.

_ _ Five hulking monstrosities loomed in the shadows behind the troops. Each one was over nine feet high, thickly muscled, their heavy deadly arms ending in curving seven inch wicked black claws. He could see them snarling in his blue-grey night vision and knew their black fangs were ready for blood. He could hear them breathe.

_ _ They sounded like angry horses; it was a deep rumbling sound.

_ _He had outfitted them in specially designed NOMEX survival combat pants, another perk of having Madison's credentials, even if the good doctor himself was quite incapacitated. Rakinos glanced down to the right wrist of the creatures and was pleased to see the auto-injector monitors that had been grafted there were functioning perfectly.

Each auto-injector functioned as a monitor, keeping track of the stress hormone levels as well as keeping track of the levels of Wolf's Bane currently in their systems. The clear chamber with blue fluid on the wrist glowed in the dark. Each system was grafted directly into the circulatory system of the dog soldier who wore it, providing it with a steady stream of performance enhancing hypnotic drugs, keeping them in control but deadly at the same time.

_ _ What little humanity they had left, if any, was completely subsumed by the rage that their now gigantic malformed bodies were dying to unleash.

_ _He looked at the one that had been the younger shifter, Alex.

_ _ It saw him and snarled, growling low in its throat.

Good, Rakinos thought. Very nice.

_ _He turned to face John who blended into the shadows like living darkness.

_ _"John, situation report and update." He barked.

_ _ John snapped up and came to Rakinos, standing at his side, his arms crossed, casting an eye at the warmly glowing mansion in the distance.

_ _ "All five dog soldiers show levels within your specified parameters. They'll fight for you. Die for you if they have to. Injectors seem stable. The men are ready and know what they have to do. Capture and extract the two targets and anyone else is expendable. Demolitions packages are ready."

_ _ Rakinos nodded. John was the model of efficiency, even though they did not see eye to eye about the dog soldiers. Something about them had bothered his old right hand and what it was, Rakinos didn't know nor did he care. As long as John did as he was ordered, there would be no complications and John could have whatever fucking opinion he wanted to. John had been responsible on getting the publically available blueprints for Forest Glen as well as securing the satellite imagery. Each soldier knew the house inside and out.

_ _ "What's the status of the security system and where are our soon to be hosts?" Rakinos asked, turning back towards the manor. John raised a thermal camera to his eyes and adjusted the view finder. A few beeps later, he lowered it and looked at Rakinos, his yellow eyes glinting in the orange glow of the viewfinder.

_ _ "Separated; Target one is in the tech room. Target two is in the front entrance way. Everyone else is spread out."

_ _ "Security system?" Rakinos replied sharply. Behind him, one of the soldiers who happened to be a technical wizard held up a palm sized tablet and with a few keystrokes, looked up and met Rakinos and his red eyes.

_ _ "Neutralized." The smaller shifter replied confidently.

_ _Rakinos nodded. "Well then, I think it's time we go up and say hello."

_ _ With a wave of his hand, the military force moved out of the tree line and began to cross the open field towards the house at a full sprint, the dog soldiers loping behind them.

*************

_ _ Draco entered the kitchen quietly and found his younger brother leaning on the counter island, sipping on a beer. The black tile and white counters and top of the line stainless steel appliances gleamed to a shine. Ash's grey fur and black tiger stripes stood out strongly in the clean room as his piercings glinted in the over head lights.

_ _ "Hello, Ash." Draco tried gently as he approached the island and stood on the other side, trying to be as unimposing as possible.

_ _ Ash sipped his beer and raised his head to look at Draco. He scoffed a bit.

_ _ "So, big brother hunts me down to try and have the talk again. Well," Ash said, taking a long draw off of his beer, "Let's hear it then. What new pitch have you got this time?"

_ _ Draco winced.

_ _ "We don't have to do this, Ash."

"Don't we? I made it clear I didn't want involved in your politics and WHAM!" Ash slammed his hand down hard on the counter top, the sound loud in the room. "Here we are. What a coincidence."

_ _Draco frowned as he sighed. "I didn't intend for you to get involved this time, Ash."

_ _ "You never intended for her to die either. Sometimes the best fucking intentions have the worst consequences, big brother. You ever heard that? Wise words." Ash snapped back, draining his beer and throwing the glass bottle into the trashcan where it exploded into a thousand pieces_._

_ _ Draco felt the spike stab into his heart from those words and that ghostly gunshot seemed to echo again.

_ _"What happened to Barbara isn't Brian's fault. Don't blame him for it."

_ _ Ash crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall.

_ _ "Oh I'm not blaming him for it. You dragged him into this bullshit, just like you did her. Why do you have share your misery with everyone else, Drake? Why can't you just keep it to yourself, like the rest of us do?"

_ _ "That's not fair, Ash. I try to help people as best as I can, the same as you do." Draco said, rounding the counter isle where he stopped and looked at his younger brother with something between a mix of longing and pain with the first hints of anger.

_ _ "I get people on their feet and send them on their way. You help them and somehow convince them of your great crusade. You don't even have to try. I don't know how you do it." Ash huffed, running a hand through the fur on his head.

_ _ Draco opened a cabinet and pulled out a tumbler. He set it down on the counter island and reached into the fridge and pulled out an amber bottle and filled the tumbler half way and put the bottle back. He picked up the glass and drained half of it.

_ _ "I'm trying to make a difference so that one day we can all live in a world where Barbara isn't taken from us. There a thousand Barbara's every day, Ash. If we stand and do nothing to change it, then there will be thousands more. I can't stand by and do nothing."

_ _Ash stepped forward and got up into Draco's face.

_ _ "She trusted you. I trusted you. Look where we are now. Look where she is now. Six foot underground because surprise, Drake, the world doesn't give a shit."

_ _ For a moment, Draco hung his head as his hand holding the tumbler began to shake. Ash noticed it.

_ _ "Are you mad? You should be. Let yourself feel it once in a while, for fuck's sake. You never grieved for her. You just dug deeper into your movement and forgot all about her!" Ash pushed and finally Draco snapped.

_ _ With a roar of rage he threw the tumbler across the room where it smashed into a wall, exploding violently into glass shards. He rounded on Ash, his normally gentle eyes moist and angry. His voice shook with his emotions.

_ _ "What do you want me to do, Ash? I can't bring her back. I want to, every day. I see her face in my dreams at night. I see her every time I'm afraid one of my friends steps out that door. I see her face every time you open your bar and you're there because I don't know what's going to happen to any of you. I don't want to lose any of you, do you understand that? You all are all I have left but I can't sit back and do nothing...."

_ _ Ash stood there his face locked in an angry frown to match his brother's and in that moment, brother stood against brother until finally, Draco's shoulders slumped and he leaned against the counter and looked at the wood grain, not meeting Ash's gaze, knowing that on some level, Ash was right and it bothered him.

_ _ "Look....Ash. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this song and dance anymore. We're all we have left of our family here. I don't want to lose you to but I can't just not help people who need it."

_ _ For a moment, Ash stood over him, arms crossed, eyes glinting, chest heaving in anger until finally with a heavy sigh, he turned away from Draco and let his arms fall to his sides.

_ _ "I know."

_ _ "When our father built this place, when we built the shelter under the club together, we built them as symbols of hope, beacons in the dark for those who have nowhere else to go. We both agree on that. That's all I feel like I can do now. That's what I need from you...to understand. I never meant to drag you back into this or to put Brian in the crosshairs. I had no idea that Rakinos was involved in the way he seems to be. I should have never trusted him." Draco said quietly.

_ _ Turning around to face his older brother, Ash for a moment, locked eyes with him.

_ _ "I'm not blaming Brian for any of this and I guess, I'm not blaming you either but I just want you to know that I can't handle any of this political shit because I've seen it tear apart our family."

_ _ Nodding, Draco sighed. "Will you help me help Brian? He needs stability. He needs that job. He needs the exposure to our culture, he needs a foundation. That's all I'm asking you and then I'll never involve you again."

_ _ With a sigh, Ash replied quietly, looking at his feet. "I guess but no more, Draco. Please."

_ _Draco nodded in silence as Ash turned to leave the kitchen.

_ _ Draco could only look at the shattered tumbler on the ground and wonder if the cup would ever come back together again.

*********

_ _ Brian sat in a black plastic chair in the tech room and looking around, he had to admit, even he was impressed. He had never been in this part of the mansion before and it was certainly different from the rest of the house with its floor to ceiling transparent walls which Jackson told him proudly were made of bullet proof glass. The black steel and hyper modern computers and monitors that lined the walls and the desks were something straight out of science fiction movie. A raised glass and metal platform in the center of the room contained twin curving desks upon which sat even more terminals and it was her that Jackson was, standing, working his keyboards, touching screens and moving windows as Raven worked on the medical part of this crazy idea they had.

_ _"So I'm thinking I'm going to call it an inhibitor bracelet," Jackson said proudly as he picked up some kind of rounded tool with a handle and came back over to Brian. Raven moved aside for him as he continued talking.

_ _"This is a laser scanner. I'm going to use it to get your measurements and then in turn, once we get the programming right, we can use those measurements to begin the 3D printing part and finish fabrication."

_ _ Jackson shoved the open end of the circular loop around Brian's right wrist and with a click of a switch on its side, thin blue beams of cold light appeared and buzzed around Brian's wrist.

_ _ "What about when I shift, wont the measurement's change?" Brian asked, watching Jackson work.

_ _Raven stopped what she was doing and turned around to face the two of them.

_ _ "I thought you couldn't shift?"

_ _ Brian met her eyes and grinned a shit eating grin as he transformed right then and there, his wolf form flowing away like black water, receding into himself and a moment later, his very human self sat there with his brown hair a bit messy and his eyes slowly fading back to amber brown. His clothes hung off of him a bit he noticed; Max had let him borrow some things again and had even let him borrow a pair of his Under Armor underwear, the kind with the tail loop in them and Brian had to admit, they felt amazing, the sheer fabric snugly hugging his body while not tugging or pulling his fur. It felt even better now on his bare skin.

_ _ Raven's eyebrows shot up in shock.

_ _ "Since when have you been able to do that?" she asked incredulously as Jackson stood gaping. Brian realized that Jackson had never actually seen him in human form before.

_ _ "Hey." He said to Jackson good naturedly.

_ _ Jackson stood slack jawed as Brian transformed back into his wolf form and a second later, the muscle bound black furred green eyed wolf was back.

_ _ Jackson collected himself. "You're messing up my measurements, will you quit it? We can add in an adjustable locking mechanism thought that may make the water proofing more difficult..." he said as he restarted his measurements again.

_ _ Brian laughed. "Sorry."

"Show off," Jackson shot back at him with a tiny grin.

_ _ Raven appeared at his side again, needle in hand as she prepared to get a blood sample. "Again, how long have you been able to do that?" She asked, taking up a position next to him. She positioned her needle just below the blood pressure cuff on his upper arm.

_ _ "For a few days; I finally got the hang of it at my mom's. I think it was psychosomatic, not anything physical that was stopping me."

_ _ Raven scowled at him. "That information is important, MacGregor. I need to know these things. As your physician-"

_ _ Brian looked up at her mischievously. "Since when?"

_ _ "Since now." She said and a moment later, he felt the sharp prick of a needle.

_ _ "Watch it!" he yelped in surprise.

_ _ "I am watching it, thank you. This should be the last sample I need for a while so we can get a baseline for you and your..." she seemed to get lost, looking for the name of whatever Jackson had called it.

_ _ "Inhibitor bracelet!" Jackson called from his work station where he had gone back to, not looking up from his screen.

_ _ "That thing." Raven finished. She waited for the tiny hole to close up in Brian's arm and activated his blood pressure cuff. "Try to sit still. We need a solid baseline if this is going to work."

_ _ Brian rubbed his arm as the cuff began to tighten with a whir.

_ _ "You know I don't want to be that thing...it scares the hell out of me. Why are both of you so eager to lock it out though?" Brian asked as the cuff got tighter, squeezing his bicep like a python making him wince a bit.

_ _Raven sighed and turned around to him.

_ _ "Because based on the simulations not only would you probably not have any rational control but there's a small chance that once the reaction got going, that it couldn't be reversed. It's a small chance...but its there." She told him all playfulness suddenly gone.

_ _ Brian gulped, a lead weight settling into his stomach.

_ _"You mean...I could get stuck as that thing?"

_ _Raven nodded. "Potentially. Until we know more under safe conditions, I'd like to keep it from showing up again."

_ _ Brian swallowed as the cuff relaxed and beeped. "Me too." He said quietly.

_ _ "HEY!"

_ _Jackson's surprised yelp caused both Raven and Brian to swivel their heads towards him.

_ _ "What?" Raven asked, looking around for something to be on fire or something about to explode.

_ _ "What's up?" Brian asked, standing, taking the cuff off of his arm, frowning at the younger shifter who was standing over his keyboards with a surprised and frustrated look on his face.

_ _ Jackson stood back and threw up his hands.

"I don't know. Something just glitched in the system and I lost all my work. That shouldn't be possible."

Both Raven and Brian walked up onto the platform and stood next to him looking down at the computer screens and to Brian's surprise, he saw that Jackson was right. Instead of the futuristic looking custom OS that Jackson had been working with when Brian first came in, all that was showing now was a classic blue screen of death.

_ _ "Hey...what's happening?" Brian asked as he looked around the room. Every monitor, every computer system was flashing to a blue screen of death, each system crashing with multiple fatal errors. The whole system seemed to be crashing and coming down.

_ _ "I have no idea...." Jackson said, looking around in shock as every terminal in the room moments later went dead with a hiss of electrical sparks and a second later with the unique finality of a generator being disconnected, the lights went dark and the entire room was thrown into pitch blackness.

_ _ Jackson and Brian's glowing eyes were the only lights left in the room.

_ _ "Let's see if we can find Draco. Maybe a fuse blew or something..." Jackson said and led the way out of the tech room with Brian and Raven bringing up the rear. The sliding door that led into the tech room had slid open automatically as a safety precaution the moment the power died and so they had no issues getting out of the room itself.

_ _ Brian felt his stomach crawl and the fur on the back of his neck stand up. Something wasn't right. They went down the dark hallways and soon came to the foyer with its large windows and thick front door.

_ _ There, Max stood in the foyer, as confused as they were.

_ _ "What the hell did you do this time, Jackson?" Max asked, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dark.

_ _ "Wasn't me! I swear it!" Jackson said frowning at the bigger werewolf.

_ _ "It wasn't him. Someone cut the power at the main line. Phones are dead too." Molly said, her voice coming from up at the top of the stairs, the silver moonlight from outside turning the inside of the once warm and inviting foyer silver. She carefully made her way down the stairs, a small pen light on her hands.

_ _ Swiveling the light from each face in the room, she heard Draco and Ash come up behind them from the kitchen area.

_ _ "What happened?" Draco asked as Ash appeared at his side, his wild tiger stripes breaking up his appearance in the deep shadows.

_ _ Looking out the window, Ash shook his head.

_ _"Looks like the power is out across all the grounds." He said.

_ _ Brian looked around and suddenly that bad feeling just got worse as the security guard in him knew something was wrong. As everyone stood in the large foyer trying to figure out what happened, a tiny motion caught his eyes. At first he was confused as he saw it because it made no sense.

_ _ It was a tiny red dot, maybe the size of a gnat or a fly and it was hovering over Ash's head.

_ _Then he realized what it was.

_ _ "GET DOWN!" he screamed and threw himself at Ash, catching him totally by surprise. Brian's heavier frame knocked the other werewolf to the ground as gunfire exploded, bullets ripping into the window as glass flew like millions of tiny deadly missiles.

_ _Brian felt the heat of each round as it flew over him, barely missing his spine, lifting the fur there as each searing hot lead projectile screamed past him slamming into the stair way, chewing deeply into the wood turning into Swiss cheese.

_ _ By the time Brian and Ash both stood up, shock on their faces, the world had went insane.

_ _ Bullets filled the air, smashing into the walls, paintings, exploding vases and glass cases sending everyone sprawling and scattering them to duck and find cover.

_ _ As Brian raised his head, the gunfire stopped and outside he heard heavy booted footfalls coming up the gravel road. He saw dark shadows there and he tensed himself for the front door to come crashing down.

_ _ Instead, the wall to their right exploded violently in fireball with debris filling the air, the shock wave throwing him and Ash across the room. All sound stopped. For the moment, he was deafened by the extreme sound, the roar of the blast and its shockwave. He saw Molly take cover by spinning herself into a crouch behind the heavy wood half wall of the upper landing. He saw Max shove Raven and Jackson out of the way and he thought he saw a silver flash, maybe Draco, he couldn't tell because at that moment the wall he was sent flying towards connected with him and he heard a bone splintering crunch and saw stars as he crashed the floor. Thousands of pieces of sharp shrapnel and debris pelted him, pieces and bits of hot sheetrock and brick. He covered his face as it rained down and when it finally stopped he cracked his eyes open and felt his heart jump into his throat.

Black armored soldiers armed with assault rifles flooded into the gaping hole that had been the library as pieces of books and paper all burning rained down, floating in the air with the red hot embers for company. There behind them came two figures that Brian recognized.

_ _ One of them was from the news. The blue black furred werewolf that his equal or better in size, his yellow eyes blazing with hate. This was the same one that Brian remembered seeing being arrested two weeks ago.

_ _The other, was a figure that made Brian's blood boil and a shock of fear to run through him.

Stepping out of the smoke and flame was a gigantic figure, broad in body, its blood red fur blending in with the carnage as his red eyes lit up with a savage joy. Dressed in similar combat gear, Rakinos stepped into the ruins of the foyer.

_ _ "Hello, Brian." He growled, a dark storm crossing over his muzzle.

_ _Brian's hearing was still partially out and Rakinos and his words were distorted, echoing in a strange way as he fought to get to his feet and finally he did, standing, his clothes shredded from the blast, the silver chain and ring on his neck glistening in the burning halls.

_ _ "What the hell do you want?" Brian snarled at him, his fangs bared, his hands clenched into fists. He could feel his temper rising and struggled to keep it in check.

_ _ "Oh nothing so complicated. Just you and Mullen, wherever he's currently cowering at." Rakinos told him bluntly as he directed his men to spread out. "And, I thought you'd like to see the fruits of my labor which, I have to honestly give you credit for. Without you, none of them would have been possible."

_ _ Rakinos motioned with his hand and a moment later Brian felt his heart hammer harder than it ever had. A freezing fear and terror began to flood his system as his ears flattened against his head and his tail unconsciously went between his legs, his eyes growing wide and the shadow monster from his dreams stepped into view.

_ _ It came from behind Rakinos, its fur the color of grave dirt, hulking with muscle and raw power. It towered over the seven foot Rakinos and Brian's brain disconnectedly told him it was at least nine feet high. The head was like a wolf, too much like his own, but its eyes had no humanity in them. Instead they were yellow ringed in a sickly red. There was no soul there, nothing but rage and hate. A thick tail lashed behind it and its seven inch black claws clicked like a spider's mandibles.

_ _ Its thickly furred body was naked from the waist up and from the waist down was clothed in some kind of high tech fabric plate armor. On its right wrist some kind of high tech bracelet or gauntlet was grafted and from this gauntlet, Brian saw a glowing blue fluid being pumped into the creatures system.

_ _ It was then that Brian recognized the dead stare, the raw rage, the psychotic stares. The fluid was the drug that man in the hospital had been under, and he knew now that the Wolf's Bane's true purpose was to control these monsters. Raven's words came to haunt him.

_ A hyper stimulant with hypnotic qualities..._

_ _ "You see," Rakinos told him as four more of the hulking monsters stalked into the room like mythological beasts, their heads nearly touching the ceiling. "They wouldn't have been possible without your DNA. So thank you, Mr. MacGregor. Now, if you'd be so kind, I have need of you. You and Mr. Mullen will come with me or I will kill everyone in this house and burn it to the ground and I'll pin your eye lids open to make you watch. Your answer?"

_ _ Out of the corner of his eye, Brian saw Max crouched next to the thick banister, just out of sight and upstairs, he saw Molly come over the edge of the upper railing and saw metallic glint in her hands. He knew what that was. Brian didn't see Draco and that worried him. Next to him Ash was tensed, looking from each monster to each soldier, unsure of what to do. Two faces peeked out from behind Max; Jackson with a nasty scrape and blood leaking all over his face but otherwise unharmed and Raven, still in her human form, her cheek cut and bleeding.

_ _ They locked eyes and Max nodded.

_ _ Brian turned to face Rakinos.

_ _"In case you were thinking of some heroic last ditch effort, I did go out of my way to make sure I did have a bargaining chip."

_ _ A moment later there was a terrible struggle, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and then Roy was dragged out, handcuffed with a bleeding eyebrow, his flannel shirt ripped and half off of him. He looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life as John dragged him out and struggled to drag him out at that. John trust Roy at Rakinos who caught the house manager with ease and wrapped his large red furred hands around the smaller shifter's neck.

_ _"Now....your answer, McGregor? I'm going to get what I want either way."

_ _Roy struggled under Rakinos and fought hard, bucking and trying to get loose which made Rakinos only tighten his grip.

_ _"Fuck him, laddie. To hell with em all. Don't worry about me! Get out of here! They are gonna use you--"

_ _ Rakinos snarled and squeezed tighter, cutting off Roy's words.

_ _ "Let him go," Max said, standing up from the corner, stepping into the burning firelight and standing by Brian's side, his blue eyes flaring yellow with hate. A muscle twitched in his jaw and Brian could tell he was gritting his teeth.

_ _ "There you are. Come out of your hole, again? You know, when you first started beating up petty thugs in the alleys, I never stopped to even consider you a threat. And now...we have some catching up to do-"

_ _ Without warning a silver blur shot out of the darkness like a bullet and with it, came a primal roar of canine rage and human anger. The blur slammed into Rakinos, knocking his grip on Roy free, sending the bigger shifter crashing through a wall into the coat room in a spray of wood sheetrock and dust.

_ _Gunfire exploded but it wasn't from the soldiers but rather from upstairs. Bright popping orange flowers of muzzle flashes lit up as Molly picked her shots, landing four rounds into soldiers, expertly targeting their weak spots in their armor at the necks and face.

_ _ Four shifters dropped dead to the ground and the already insane world finally completely lost any coherence.

_ _ "KILL THEM ALL!" Rakinos roared. "BRING ME MACGREGOR AND MULLEN!" As he got to his feet, he was met with Draco, his white shirt dangling open with bloody gashes across his chest, panting in rage, his eyes blazing yellow with rage. Soldiers condensed towards him, leveling their rifles.

_ _ "NO!" Max roared and dove into the fray.

_ _ Fists struck armor plating, bones cracked and Max turned into a blur of motion. Blood filled the air as hot rounds began to fly, the soldiers opening fire.

_ _ Brian and Ash leaped in as well, each one picking out a soldier and lighting into him. One soldier had lined up a shot on the back of Max's head and Brian saw it, snapping out his hands, grapping the werewolf in a two handed grip, and yanked backwards, twisting. With a crunch of his neck, the soldier dropped the ground.

_ _ Ash laid out two more of them with solid roundhouse punches, shattering their face shields.

_ _Upstairs, Molly managed to drop two more before John spotted her and charged after her.

_ _ Jackson and Raven still crouched behind the banister.

_ _ "Jackson! Get that security system back on. The back up generators should have kicked on!" she barked, ducking as bullets chewed into the wood around them. Roars and screams filled the air.

_ _"They had to disconnect it in the basement. If I can get it working again I can get it on!" he yelled over the noise. Raven nodded. "GO!"

_ _ With that she stood up and rounded the corner and began to run at the nearest dog soldier. It saw her and snarled as Rakinos motioned them into action. Transforming into her wolf form as she ran, Raven's eyes flared purple and she leaped, landing on top of the giant beast, going at the back of its head with her fists and claws.

_ _ The other dog soldiers took after Jackson, dropping to all fours as they moved, smashing down the hallway and vanishing into the darkness.

_ _ The fires from the explosion had began to spread, and now the drapes had caught fire, the flames roaring with their own hellish life, screaming towards the ceiling and even then the support beams on the roof had already began to smoke as the room grew hotter and harder to see in.

_ _ As Max, Raven, Brian and Ash were occupied fighting off the soldiers, Draco and Rakinos stood face to face, with open flame between them.

_ _ "You will not take my family from me. I should have never trusted you." Draco snarled at him, baring his white fangs.

_ _ Rakinos wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

_ _ "Oh yes. Yes I will. I will take them all, one by one and you will die knowing that it's all your fault for trusting me in the first place. After all, what kind of idiot invites the leader of a terrorist group into the home?"

_ _ A dawning look of realization spread across Draco's face.

_ _ "You aren't just part of their group. You're their leader."

_ _ Rakinos bowed his head. "Got it in one."

_ _With a roar, Draco charged him, the muscles in his arms bunching up as landed a brutal solid blow upside Rakinos face. Draco heard his own knuckles crack.

_ _ Rakinos was sent backwards and he tasted blood in mouth, the familiar coppery metallic taste flooding his senses. With a grunt he rolled with the punch and when Draco came at him again, Rakinos caught Draco's fist in mid air.

_ _ Surprised, Draco swung with his free hand and Rakinos lashed out with a vicious kick that caught the older werewolf straight in the chest, sending flying backward through the wall into the parlor.

_ _ Draco slammed to the ground as debris flew. The painting of St. Christopher fell from the wall, ripping into two pieces as it came down and glass littered the ground where Draco had been thrown though a display case.

_ _ Rakinos ran at him, claws out, teeth bared and Draco rolled over onto his back, the glass digging into the flesh there, cutting him with a thousand tiny swords. He saw the hulking red werewolf charging and as Rakinos leaped, Draco raised his legs and planted his feet squarely into Rakinos's chest and shoved. Hard.

_ _With a cry of surprise, Rakinos was flung head over heels, smashing down hard enough to shatter the same chair he had sat in two weeks ago, splintered the wooden floor with the force of his impact.

_ _ Draco got to his feet and by the time he had, Rakinos was up again. Rakinos hocked up and spat out the blood on his mouth.

_ _ When he looked at Draco, Draco finally saw the insanity in those red eyes and knew then that Rakinos was enjoying this.

_ _ "So, you do have some fight in you after all, old man. Good." Rakinos snarled, his deep voice making Draco's skin crawl.

_ _With a roar, both combatants closed the distance and smashed into each other and the death dance began.

**************

_ _ Brian was fighting for his life. There was nothing here but motion, reflex, instinct. His rational mind had been reduced to an adrenaline smothered afterthought. The gunfire and the roaring was echoing background noise. He ducked as a soldier swung a knife in the air in front of his face, the blade parting the fur on his muzzle and he drove his fist through the shifter's plastic faceplate, shattering it and the snout behind it in a bone crushing blow. He felt the hot blood gush over his hand and he kicked out landing a blow on the thick body armor, sending the werewolf to the ground.

_ _He heard Ash grunt and turning, he saw that a soldier had him up against the wall.

_ _ Brian dropped down and picked up the dropped knife the soldier had been using on him and with a cry launched it at the soldier holding Ash.

_ _ With a sickening wet slash, the knife buried itself up to the hilt in the soldier's upper back. Crying out in rage and surprise, the soldier's attention was off Ash and that was when Ash slammed his forehead into the soldier's cracking his helmet and dropped an elbow into the werewolf's throat, crushing his trachea. The soldier dropped like a sack of potatoes.

_ _Max ducked two swings at his head and rolled as another soldier opened fire. The bullets sprayed into the soldier in front of Max, shredding his body armor, killing him instantly.

_ _ "CHECK YOUR FIRE!" the commander screamed as Max drove a spinning kick into the back of his head.

_ _ "Consider it checked." Max snarled as he jerked his head up to see Raven struggling on the back of the dog soldier.

_ _ She had drawn blood, and it ran in rivers down the things back as she went for its eyes.

_ _ She made a mistake and gave up a secure spot for leverage and in that instant the dog soldier snared her forearm.

_ _ "RAVEN!" Max roared as the hulking monster yanked her off of its back and threw her like a rock.

_ _ Raven's white furred body sailed through the air and smashed into the far wall hard enough to leave a crater. With a cry she dropped to the ground stunned and nearly unconscious as the world swam in her eyes.

_ _The dog soldier poised itself above her and raised its claws for the kill.

********

_ _ Molly ducked around the corner, planting herself firmly behind a thick hallway arch, the broad old beam behind her giving her comfort as her heart hammered away in her chest. She knew that the man chasing her, John Carrey was a wanted terrorist and fugitive. She knew he was called Brutus and good reason. She mentally counted how many rounds she had left.

_ _ At least seven.

_ _ It was her last clip though she did have one last weapon besides her side arm but using it meant she was going to die most likely.

_ _ She had lost her flashlight in the melee and was now literally flying blind in the dark halls of the cavernous manor house. Somewhere down the hall where she had just come from, she heard John's heavy foot falls ascend the stairs and enter the hallway.

_ _ "You know I'm going to kill you. Give up and I'll make it easy. I'll just snap your neck instead of giving you necklace of your own fucking guts." He snarled.

_ _ Molly could hear his heavy breathing, could almost smell the musty scent of his unwashed fur.

_ _ Slowing her breathing she calmed herself, going back to her days at the academy; this asshole wasn't going to scare her and if he was going to kill her, she was going to give him hell the whole time he was at it.

_ _ Peeking around the corner, she saw his pitch black hulking from stalking the hallways and as he turned, she caught a glimpse of his blazing yellow eyes like cigarette embers in the dark. She lined up her shot at the back of his shoulders, and then moved her aim lower, aiming for his left elbow. It was the only one she could clearly make out in the moonlight of the windows.

She exhaled her breath and stabilized the glowing dot on the front blade of her pistol sight and squeezed the trigger.

_ The silver and black HK USP 9's slide bucked and a blossom of fire appeared at the end of its muzzle along with a deafening _BOOM.

_ _ The round slammed home, biting into John's undefended elbow, shattering bone and tissue, sending up a spray of blood.

_ _ With a roar of agony and surprise he cradled his arm, looking down at it in shock, amazed she had been able to hit him in the darkness, let alone wound him. Growling in pain, he straightened his elbow with a crunch of destroyed bone and he knew it would take days to heal that damage. It enraged him and as he turned, he saw her there, peeking out from around a corner like a human rat, the smoking gun in her hands.

_ _She was going to die slowly, he decided.

_ _ "CUNT!" he roared and charged at her, planning to use his teeth, his claws, his bare hands, whatever he hand to take her down.

_ _ Molly rounded the corner and stood facing him and raised her gun, leveling herself into the Weaver Stance and opened fire, discharging round after round after round.

_ _ In the dark some of them missed their mark and some of them hit home, smacking into John's chest and stomach and thick legs with wet splotches, making him stumble.

_ _ He was almost on her when the slide locked back and the sound of an empty chamber echoed loudly in her ears.

_ _ Not wasting a second, Molly cast aside the gun and reached into her loose pant suit jacket and yanked a silver tube from her belt and flicked it. It expanded into a night stick like device and with a flick of a switch, lightning curled around its edges with a sharp whine.

_ _As John fell upon her, she swung it for all she was worth.

**************

_ _ "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Jackson yelled to himself as he pounded down the halls, grateful he could see in the dark, stumbling around a corner. He heard the massive rapid footfalls behind him and he knew that those monsters would be upon at any moment. He could almost feel their fangs at the back of his throat, feel their claws ripping into his tender flesh.

_ _ Sliding around a corner on a rug, he took the basement stairs two at a time and finally arrived at the server room and knew the fuse box and generator room was just through the server room itself. The server room door had slid open automatically once the power was lost but the fuse room and generator area were sealed off by a heavy steel door with a lock that was totally manual. If he could get there, he could seal the dog soldiers out and secure the generator room. From there he could easily take the crawl space back up to the main foyer.

_ _ A roar behind him and the sound of splintered wood put more speed into his steps and he brushed the blood out of his eyes as he passed through the server room door, squeezing through the tight space.

_ _ Behind him the dog soldiers crashed through the stairway, leaping it entirely and a moment later, he heard the cracking sound of glass and steel as they tried to shove their way into the server room. Looking back, Jackson saw them there. Four pairs of glowing red yellow eyes and gnashing black fangs. One of them reached up and drove its claws into the steel door frame shredding it like paper and it shoved, breaking the door totally out of its frame and smashing through the rest of the glass, leaving a now gaping hole straight into the server room.

_ _ "SHIT!" Jackson yelped as he saw the thick steel door that led to the generator room. It was open and with the last surge of adrenaline he leaped through it and turned immediately to slam it shut.

_ _ It wouldn't budge.

_ _"No..." he said to himself in shock.

_ _ He shoved harder. The dog soldiers took a moment, slowing down a fraction as they sniffed him out and they saw him a moment later as the lead one stood to tower on his hind legs and bared it fangs at him.

_ _ Jackson shoved and pushed and the door wouldn't move.

_ _ He wasn't going to die here, not this way. Not this night.

_ _ The dog soldiers charged at him and with scream of defiance, Jackson put every ounce of his strength into it and the door swung shut and falling to his knees, he slammed the heavy lock home.

_ _The door slammed shut with a thunderous clang and the dog soldiers slammed into with a snarl of frustration.

_ _ They hit it, shaking the entire thing, rattling the world it seemed but for now, they were stuck out there and he was in here.

_ _ He quickly surveyed the room and felt his heart drop.

_ _ His blood ran cold at what he saw there.

_ _The soldiers had already been in here. How he didn't know. They must have came down in here before they blew the wall upstairs.

_ _The entire room, generators included, were lined with plastic bricks made up of a grey white paste. Wires stuck into the blocks and each block was glowing with a red and a green light. A wireless transmitter ran from several of them.

_ _Jackson realized that no matter what happened upstairs, Rakinos was going to blow them all sky high. There was no way he could restart the security system or the generator without killing them all.

_ _ The dog soldiers hammered on the door and it groaned, bending in the middle as re-enforced claws scraped down the metal biting into it.

_ _The only thing to do was to get out and escape. He had to warn the others.

_ _Frantically, Jackson hurled aside the shelving that hid the false wall. This house was build on the foundations of an earlier property and that property had been a part of the Underground Railroad and so, the house's foundations had tunnels running all through them, none of the marked on the official blueprints filed with city hall. Rather than brick them up, Jackson had used them to run all the fiber optics and cables and now, he could use this one to get back up the main foyer. As he dove into the cramped space and began to half climb half crawl, he hoped he wasn't too late.

*****

_ _ Rakinos had slowly gained the upper hand as Draco had began to tire. True, Draco was about the same size and weight as Rakinos but Rakinos had one thing on him that the old man never could have.

Rakinos lacked any sense of honor or empathy and that worked tremendously in his advantage but unlike Draco, Rakinos wasn't going to hesitate to kill. Draco didn't have the rage that fueled Rakinos.

_ _ The parlor library was a mess. Furniture lay broken, display cases obliterated and the antique pieces lay in ruin. The flames had now reached the parlor walls and were beginning to lick at the floors hungrily.

_ _ Draco swung at Rakinos hard and nearly made contact but Rakinos moved just the right way and Draco missed.

_ _Deciding this game was over, Rakinos stopped toying with the old man and drove a solid fist into the side of Draco's head. He heard bone crack and blood ran from Draco's ear.

_ _ "There's a difference between you," Rakinos snarled driving a second blow into Draco's head this time from the right.

"And me!" Rakinos barked sending a knee into Draco's chest. Draco tried to recover but Rakinos gave no quarter and drove him towards the windows that looked out into the front yard.

_ _ Draco tried to charge him but Rakinos side stepped him and drove an elbow into Draco's neck. With a yelp of pain and exhaustion, Draco crashed to the ground on his belly. Rakinos stepped over him, straddling him before grabbing him by the back of his neck, hauling Draco to his feet.

_ _"The difference is I'm willing to do whatever I need to get what I want!" Rakinos roared.

_ _ Turning, Rakinos let go of Draco and drove three blows into Draco's chest and stomach, cracking four reds and inside of Draco, Draco felt something rupture from the sheer force as he stumbled to stay on his feet. He hadn't fought like this in many years and he knew that this fight was already lost. As thoughts of his family shot through his mind, Rakinos round house kicked Draco with all of his strength.

_ _ The blow impacted square in Draco's broad chest with the sound of a hammer striking a thick side of steak and Draco went flying backward, smashing into the floor to ceiling window. Distantly, Draco heard the splintering panes and the ear splitting shriek of tortured glass as it exploded all around him. The world spun crazily and a moment later, he hit the hard unforgiving ground, driving all the remaining fight out of him as he hit and rolled to a stop twenty feet from the house itself, laying in a pool of blood and shattered shards of glass.

_ _ Rakinos leaped out of the broken window and came down on him with a crash, shaking the earth. He stooped and picked up a nasty curving piece of glass from beside Draco and he knelt down low, looking Draco in the eyes.

"You know, we could have worked together. We could have taken over. Had it all but you had to grow a conscience. Let me solve that for you."

_ _ Rakinos drove the glass blade into Draco's right kidney, twisting it, breaking it off cleanly deep inside the old werewolf's body. Draco howled in pain but the fight was thoroughly out of him. Behind them, the manor had begun to burn properly, casting wild shadows upon the peaceful grounds and the moon hovered over everything, slowly drowning to ever thickening smoke.

_ _Rakinos leaned in to Draco's good ear and whispered to him.

_ _ "I know you won't die from that right away. You'll eventually keel over from it. Your immune system can't repair itself fast enough with the damage I've done and that means you're going to live long enough to see me take everything from you."

_ _ With a savage kick, Rakinos drove his foot into the side of Draco's head and Draco's body went limp with unconsciousness as Rakinos stalked back towards the house.

**********

_ _Molly ducked a claw swipe at her head and drove her electric baton deep into John's side, slamming it home with a crunch of metal on flesh.

_ _ Sparks flew violently, lighting up the hallway. The smell of burnt hair and skin flooded her nostrils as he howled in rage and pain, stumbling back from her.

_ _Pressing her opening she swung it again, hitting him in the thighs, the wrist, the stomach, anywhere she could reach, each blow landing with the sharp metallic crack and sizzle of artificial lightning. Blue energy raced up and down the baton and John back peddled, the powerful electrical shocks overwhelming his nervous system.

_ _She drove him down the hall and finally had his back to one of the big windows that led to a straight drop to the ground below. John ducked her next swing and she missed his head, smashing out the window itself. She nearly lost her balance and went out of it but managed to right herself before it was too late.

_ _ John was upon her and she found she couldn't breathe because he managed to catch her in a strangle hold. Growling savagely, he lifted, picking her up off the ground. Molly could hear the bones in her neck creak and protest as her heart demanded more oxygen that simply would not come.

_ _ "I hate humans." He bared his fangs at her and she knew that if she didn't do something she was going to die so he pulled the oldest trick in the book.

_ _ She rammed her feet, heels first, into his crotch with a satisfying squishing squelch.

_ _ Werewolf or not, he was still a man and it worked. He dropped her hard to the ground as he went down to his knees, howling in agony, cupping himself, blood running down from the inside of his trousers. She realized she had probably crushed at least one of his testicles and realized she didn't give a damn. Molly landed hard on her knees, gasping for breath. She saw John moving towards her and didn't hesitate. Climbing to her feet, she recovered the electric baton she had dropped when he snared her and raised it back like a baseball bat.

_ _John looked up at her, his face a mix of rage and blind hate, his yellow eyes flaring as he opened his jaws to dive at her and rip her throat out.

_ _Molly swung the baton with every bit of strength she had, letting loose an adrenaline fueled battle cry. The sparking baton whistled as it moved through the air and slammed into John's right eye socket, sending him reeling backwards, blinded and unstable. Molly kicked out with her left foot, catching him in the chest and she watched the surprise and shock come over his face as he fell backward, out of the shattered window.

_ _ For a moment he pin wheeled there, and then gravity snared him and with a vicious roar of defeat, John went out of the window and spiraled down to the ground below where he impacted with a deep WHUMP.

_ _ Molly looked over the edge and saw his crumpled body laying there and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

_ _ Panting she turned and made for the foyer. There was still a battle to be fought.

*****

_ _The normal werewolf soldiers lay defeated, most of them dead or severely injured. Two of them were stirring but barely.

_ _Raven looked up and saw the black clawed monster swinging for her head.

_ _ She was going to die.

_ _ A moment later a black streak shot of the corner of her eye and took the blow for her.

_ _ It was Brian.

_ _ He had jumped between the dog soldier and Raven and she felt the hot spray of his blood as the things cruel claws raked him from the shoulder down to his hip as he tackled it away from her.

_ _"BRIAN!"

_ _Brian's tackle pushed the dog soldier backward but not far and it kicked him aside like street trash. He tucked and rolled coming up to his feet, his face a mask of pain and anger and yes, fear, his green eyes wide.

_ _ Max was there, swinging a piece of heavy wood from the stairs that he had ripped loose. The dog soldier whirled on him and the wood smashed it across the face, exploding into splinters.

_ _With a snarl, it stumbled backward, blood running from its eyes, nose and face as the splinters stabbed home.

_ _ It backhanded Max, sending him flying back into the stairs. He landed hard, the wind driven from him as the dog soldier advanced on him.

_ _"Oi, you over grown beast!"

_ _ The dog soldier roared in pain as Roy appeared and rammed a thick gardening scythe into the thing's ribcage, shoving it home with such force it was buried up to the hilt.

The dog soldier snarled in an even deep rage and whirled on Roy. Roy swung at it with a piece of burning debris and missed as the dog soldier snapped its clawed hands out and picked him up, snatching him right off his feet.

_ _ It all happened so fast that no one could have done anything.

_ _ The dog soldier yanked Roy close, snarling in his face, black fangs dripping with saliva.

_ _ "Go to hell." Roy spat in its face.

_ _ With an ungodly roar, the dog solider reared back and threw Roy across the room straight into a pile of burning debris. Roy never even had time to yell as a piece of searing support beam that had been knocked loose erupted from his chest as he was impaled and moments later, his body lay still, his brown eyes unseeing as he died.

_ _"NO!" Max snarled and threw himself at the dog soldier. Brian joined him and together they fought the creature with everything that had, each one taking horrendous blows from it. Its claws ripped open their chests, drawing blood.

_ _ Ash looked into the parlor where Draco had been and panic filled him. His brother wasn't there. There room was soaked in blood and fire was rapidly consuming it.

_ _ Hoping that Max and the others could handle the monstrosity, Ash turned to find Draco, throwing open the huge door that led outside, searing his hands in the process from the hot metal of the door knob. Cursing, he pressed on and there, he saw his brother, lying unmoving in the yard, a dark pool beneath him.

_ _ His eyes went wide and there, coming towards them, was the red furred hulking demon himself, Rakinos.

_ _ With an angry cry, Ash drove himself at Rakinos, fully intending to rip his head off his ugly shoulders.

_ _ Rakinos backhanded him across the temple, sending Ash flying a good thirty feet crashing into the underbrush at one of the statues and he didn't get back up. Rakinos continued on towards the burning manor, his own temper very much over the red line.

**********

_ _Raven had seen a weak spot. The wrist gauntlet. It regulated the flow of the stabilizing chemicals into the creature. If they could take it out, then they could likely drive the creature itself insane enough to bring it down. She was about to shout at Max and Brian who were losing to it badly when a hulking shadow fell over her.

_ _ She tried to roll out of the way when it reached down and grabbed her. She felt herself be lifted up by the throat and she couldn't scream, couldn't warn them as Rakinos entered the house again, dragging her along with him.

_ _ Rakinos held Raven tightly, ignoring her kicks and punches. He looked up and saw Molly appear at the top of the stair case, electric baton in hand and saw that John had not been successful. A part of Rakinos would miss him. Then again, if he had been up to the task...An acceptable loss.

_ _He squeezed Raven's neck harder.

_ _ "STOP!" he bellowed.

_ _ The dog soldier threw both Max and Brian aside, both of them badly beaten and bloody. They landed in a heap, panting for breath.

_ _ The dog soldier moved as if to go after them when Rakinos tapped a control on his belt and with an electric sizzle, the dog soldier stopped in its tracks and growled angrily but did not move.

_ _ "If anyone moves so much as an eyeball, she dies!" Rakinos screamed and squeezed Raven's neck harder. He heard her bones crack.

_ Good._

_ _ "Don't...listen...to..." she tried to speak and Rakinos shut off her air way entirely shutting her up. He squeezed tighter for a good ten seconds until she nearly blacked out and then let go again.

_ _"I want MacGregor and Mullen to surrender. They come with me. The rest of you can live. Refuse and she dies right here. Then I'll take you both anyway and kill each one your friends in front you, slowly, one by one. CHOOSE NOW!" he bellowed, his eyes flaring scarlet, his chest heaving, fur gleaming in the firelight as the manor had finally began to burn.

_ _Max and Brian looked at each other. Max shook his head as he saw a look come over Brian's face.

_ _ They debated silently and finally, both of them stood up together.

_ _"Don't hurt anyone else. We'll go with you." Brian said putting his hands up.

_ _ Rakinos smiled. "Good. Maybe you have a mediocrum of intelligence after all."

_ _ Two of the surviving normal werewolf soldiers who had gotten to their feet not so dead after all rushed forward, rifles leveled at Brian and Max's head. One of them lowered his gun and reached around his back. When his hands came back around, Brian saw Max stiffen.

_ _ In the soldiers hands were two sets of cuffs that looked like they could fit over the entire wrist, like a gauntlet. Max was restraining himself from lashing out as the soldier snapped the cuffs shut around Brian's wrist and then around his own. A moment later, a red light winked on.

Brian suddenly moved to slam his cuffed hands into the soldier's head and felt searing pain as 10,000 volts exploded into his nervous system, sending him to his knees.

_ _Max snarled, his eyes blazing as he pinned Rakinos with his stare.

_ _Shock cuffs. The bastard was using Madison Genetics shock cuffs.

_ _ The electrical impulses were designed specifically to target the nerve conduction velocity in werewolves and disrupt it.

_ _ Once Brian stopped struggling, the shocks dissipated.

_ _"Get them to the transport truck. Keep them separate." Rakinos barked.

_ _ With a disgusted look, he hurled Raven across the room. She landed hard, skidding across the broken wood, rolling to a stop just before the stair case. Molly came down the stairs and knelt beside her, helping her to her feet. Raven's white fur was stained red in places and Molly knew some of that was her own blood.

_ _ She cast a sorrowful glance at Roy's still body and a terrible realization began to eat at her.

_ Draco. Where was he? Where was Ash? Where were the other four creatures?_

_ _She said nothing as she pulled Raven into a sitting position.

_ _ As the soldiers led Brian and Max grudgingly out, Rakinos and the dog soldier followed them. Molly watched them go and about half way out into the driveway, Rakinos motioned to one of the soldiers who turned around and pulled something round from his belt and threw it.

_ _Molly recognized it and threw herself over Raven as the grenade landed with a clink of metal on wood and a second later it erupted into a titanic fireball. The explosion ripped apart foyer, bringing the roof down, blocking off any escape out of the foyer or out of the house itself, trapping them all inside a burning death trap.

_ _ Molly's ears were ringing as she looked up and saw the tomb they were now in. Even if Rakinos didn't kill them, unless they could escape they were would die burning alive or from smoke inhalation.

_ _Coughing, she tried to drag Raven who was having a hard time standing off the stairs and towards the one hall that wasn't blocked She did, she caught motion at the corner of her eye near the floor and looked down.

_ _ A chunk of the wall had cracked open in a perfect square and there, behind it, was Jackson. He was covered in dirt and blood and grit and when he looked up and saw Molly and Raven, he sighed in relief.

_ _"Thank god! They've rigged the whole house to blow. We've got to get out of here! NOW!" he yelled.

_ _ "We can't! Rakinos blew the foyer shut!" Molly looked down the hall way she thought was clear and felt her heart drop. The fire had collapsed it.

_ _"Come on! These old slave tunnels go under the lake. We can get out at the exit down there but we gotta move now!"

_ _"Help me!" Molly barked and Jackson reached up and grabbed Raven's legs and the two of them moved as fast they could and got her into the tunnel. Molly herself went in next and pulled the false wall shut behind her.

***************

_ _ Out in the yard, Max struggled against his captors, throwing himself at Rakinos only to have the cuffs stun him into near unconsciousness. He roared with rage and pain but was helpless to watch as his second home burned the ground with his family inside it all over again_._

_ _ Brian lunged at Rakinos as well, regardless of the cuffs. Rakinos cold cocked him, sending him sprawling. Max started forward again but Rakinos grabbed him by the throat and dragged him to the transport truck that had been parked just out of sight, throwing the titanium door open wide. With a heave, Rakinos threw Max into the tiny transport cell and slammed the door in face, sealing it with a magnetic lock and bolt.

_ _ "Mr. MacGregor you are going to help me reshape the world in a new image." Rakinos told Brian as the soldiers yanked Brian up and threw him bodily into the back of the vehicle, sealing the door behind him.

_ _ "My image." Rakinos grinned and he turned walking back to the burning house, going to the left slightly, moving into the grassy yard. He motioned for the two surviving soldiers and dog soldiers to pack it up and they did. A moment later, the truck was idling, waiting on Rakinos to leave and before they did, he had one final promise to keep.

_ _ Rakinos stood over Draco's limp body and for a moment, he thought the old man had died. Then he satisfyingly saw that Draco was still breathing. Barely but enough. He reached down and grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck and began to drag him back to the circular driveway. Draco didn't fight back, his body weakened from blood loss and shock.

_ _ Once he was in the driveway, Rakinos roughly picked up Draco and slammed him down hard, yanking him up into a sitting position. Draco opened his blood shot eyes and frowned at Rakinos, his vision unfocused at first and then realizing who was holding him up, Draco tried to put up one final fight. Rakinos easily forced him back down.

_ _ "No no no...you just need sit right there." Rakinos snarled as he reached around to the back of his belt and brought out a small box about the size of a cellular phone. It had a flip switch cover and beneath that switch was a red glowing button. A small antenna made of rubber came off the other end. Flipping up the switch cover, Rakinos showed the box to Draco who's eyes went wide with fear and panic as he looked from the box to the burning house, knowing that his family, what was left of it, Max, Brian, Raven, Jackson, all of them, were still in there.

_ _ In the transport truck, despite the electric shocks, Brian and Max had managed to pull themselves up and through the transport cell's thick barred tiny windows, they saw the manor engulfed and saw Rakinos kneeling next to a broken blood form with something in his hand.

_ _ As the moon light and smoke cleared, Max saw that it was Draco.

He felt something leap in his throat. Something painful. Something deep as an old wound ripped open all over again. No. This was not happening again. It couldn't happen again.

Max felt his heart hammer and his blood run cold. His ears lay flat against his skull and he didn't hear it but he was making a whining noise, a whimper as he struggled against the electric shocks on his wrists to say something, anything, to do anything, to get out there.

_ _ Rakinos knelt next to Draco and leaned in close.

_ _ "I want you in your dying moments to remember these words and know they are true, as true as that fire there. You invited me in. If it wasn't for you, I would have never known about Brian. All of this....all of this death....is your fault. You murdered your own family and, there's only one thing left to do about that..."

_ _ Draco struggled against Rakinos but his body was too weak. Rakinos simply held him down with one hand and held the detonator up with the other. Draco looked at Rakinos and for the first time in his life he begged through a mouthful of blood.

_ _"Please...don't do this...It doesn't have to be this way...."

_ _ Rakinos considered that and he felt eyes on him and he looked up slowly, turning his head towards the transport truck. He saw Max Mullen there and Brian, both of them yelling at him, incoherent from the pain of their shock cuffs, mixed growls and yelps of pain and agony and Rakinos fixed Max in particular with a cold red eyed stare, meeting the younger shifter's blue eyes. They had lost their yellow fire. Now, all Rakinos saw in them was fear, a familiar fear, a fear from twenty-two years ago. In that moment, Rakinos knew the DNA tests were right.

_ _ "Yes...." Rakinos said standing up and walking back to the transport truck, its red tail lights flaring, its engine roaring. As he got up to it, he stopped at the cages and looked up into Max's pleading eyes, so full of fear and pain and hate all at once. He heard Max's mixed yelps of pain and whimpers, pleading with Rakinos. Rakinos thought he could get used to that. He also knew that the remaining dog soldiers were will trapped inside the house. They were expendable.

_ _ As he looked into Max's eyes, his unknowing brother's eyes again, the house burning behind them, Rakinos leaned in where Max could hear him and finished his sentence.

_ _ "Yes it does."

_ _Rakinos depressed the detonator stud.

_ _With a click and a beep, Max's nightmares became a reality all over again as Forest Glen erupted into a fireball that consumed the entire house.

_ _ Max never heard himself scream but he did. It was a single word.

_ "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"_

_ _ The earth itself shook and night became day. The ancient stone walls and windows blew out, years of family history went up in an inferno as the shock wave screamed out into the night rattling the truck itself. Rakinos leaped into the truck and it sped away, bouncing down the rutted road.

_ _Max heard himself screaming in rage and horrors, unable to do anything as his only family was torn away from him again. He rammed himself into the side of the cage, nearly breaking his shoulder, ignoring the spark from his cuffs, smelling his own burning crisping fur, his teeth gnashing, eyes wild.

_ _ It did no good.

_ _ The fireball faded into a raging tower of fire and jet black smoke as the last remnants of Forest Glen collapsed into the burning crackling hell mouth that had once been a place of warmth, light and hope.

_ _At last Max collapsed to the floor of the truck stunned into submission from the cuffs, crying in rage and pain, his body unable to fight off the electricity any longer as the cuffs stunned him into unconsciousness and merciful blackness over took him.

_ _ Brian watched the manor burn, watched the last of it collapse, watched Draco's body incinerate in the blast and felt his whole world go dark and empty. He didn't fight the cuffs. He didn't have the strength anymore. He simply collapsed onto his behind and felt his heart utterly break as he could hear Max screaming as tears of agony and loss poured from the man he loved and there was nothing he could do to comfort him. No words, nothing. He couldn't even reach him or touch him. He was isolated alone with his suffering.

_ _ Brian felt numbness take him and as the truck bounced, taking him away from everything he had come to know towards an unknown fate he laid his head back against the truck wall and let the tears flow silently down his black furred face and knew it was over.

_ _Rakinos had won.

_ He's taken everything.....everyone... and it's all because of me._

_ _ This echoed in Brian's thoughts for miles until he too finally passed out from exhaustion and blood loss and when unconsciousness came for him, he welcomed its death like embrace and surrendered to the dark where there was no more pain.

Chapter 16

---

Everything hurt. She felt every inch of her body as if someone was pressing very hard on every pressure point she had and for a moment, all she wanted to do was lay there on the hard cold ground and just surrender to the darkness. It was easier and she felt like she was so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep sounded wonderful if only it wasn't so hot down here. It was much too hot. She thought she should get up and check the thermostat.

As she lay on the dirt floor, Raven, still deep in her unconsciousness groaned a bit, her white fur stained red in half a dozen places and her right leg was swollen at the knee cap. She grunted and stirred. Beside her, Jackson, his shirt in tatters and burn marks all over his pants, his glasses shattered, had fallen up against the wall, collapsing onto his rear, his tail unmoving as he panted, trying desperately to get his breath. Molly was on her knees behind them both, her back facing the upward sloping dirt ramp of the tunnel, her pant suit burned and ripped in a thousand places, her red hair wild and a fresh scrape bleeding under her eye.

Molly reached out and shook Raven hard.

"Raven...you need to wake up...come on...wake up!" she ordered. She knew Raven probably had a concussion and sleep was the last thing she needed since she knew very well that if Raven stayed asleep, she may never wake up again. Raven grunted, her closed eyes squinting in pain and a tiny moan escaped her muzzle.

"We need to keep moving. There was enough C4 in that fuse box room to level the entire mansion. When it goes off, I'm not sure if these tunnels are going to hold up." Jackson said, groaning as he crawled over to Raven and Molly, wincing as he did. He was favoring an ankle. Judging by how he was carrying it, Molly figured he had twisted it somehow.

"Come on Raven....please...get up..." Jackson pleaded shoving her hard until finally, Raven's eyes cracked open. For a moment, her violet irises were unfocused, dazed and she didn't seem to recognize that Molly and Jackson were there. She looked around her, seeing the five and a half foot high stone ceilings, at the ancient wooden cross beams and the dirt floor and walls uncomprehendingly. In contrast to the ancient stone and dirt walls, ultra modern cables and glowing fiber cables were strung along the right wall, each bundle of cable carefully mounted between the support beams. She frowned. There were also small bare bones light bulbs spaced out every few feet. The light they gave off was weak, flickering.

"Where...where are we..." she asked, her voice breaking and husky as she struggled to find the strength to sit up, her chestnut hair falling into her face.

"In the old underground railroad tunnels...remember? The ones I ran the fiber optics through? We need to get moving, Raven. There's a bomb in the mansion." Jackson told her quickly.

"Can you stand?" Molly asked, looking at Raven's knee. Raven closed her eyes and swallowed and with a grunt of pain, she forced herself to her feet and promptly fell down again.

"Damn it! Its healing but...its going to take time..." she said, looking from Molly to Jackson, settling on her swollen leg. "Where's Max, Brian, the rest of them?"

Jackson's eyes fell. When he spoke his voice was quiet and pained.

"We don't know. Rakinos came and took them, at least Max and Brian I think...the house is burning."

"Help me up..." Raven said and Jackson and Molly quickly moved in and Raven put one arm around each of their shoulders. "On three, lift...I don't care how bad it hurts..."

Molly and Jackson nodded and Raven took a deep breath.

"One...two....THREE!"

They lifted and Raven felt like her leg was being ripped off and as fire and agony exploded, she couldn't help herself and screamed.

"Are you okay?" Molly asked, stabilizing Raven as she threatened to collapse again. Raven stiffened her spine and squeezed the tears of pain away.

"I'm fine. Let's move. If there's a bomb these tunnels probably won't last once the foundation comes down....where does this come out?" Raven panted as they began to move down the tunnels painfully crouched over, their progress even more painfully slowed down to a shuffle.

Jackson mentally did some math in his head. "Should come out just next to the lake."

"Good...that should be far enough away..." Molly said and grunted as she heaved under Raven's weight. Raven tried to help them move as much as her leg would allow her.

They had made it half way down the tunnel when the world shook violently, throwing them all to their knees. The heat in the tunnel got worse exponentionally and it seemed like the air was sucked out of their lungs. The ceiling stone cracked, covering them in the rock dust and dirt. One of the support beams splintered like a toothpick.

Raven's eyes went wide.

Jackson felt his heart stop and Molly's suddenly remembered what the fear of death felt like as it kissed the back of her neck.

They all knew what had just happened but it was too much to process. Their entire world had just ended in a span of seconds, gone in a hellish inferno. There was nothing left now but ashes.

Jackson looked back and saw the farthest end of the tunnel tremble as rock and dirt began to fall.

The tunnel's structural integrity had been destroyed and now with hundreds of tons of burning rock and debris bearing down it, it wasn't going to stay in one piece.

"We need to move faster...the tunnel's going to collapse down on us if we don't!"

Knowing it was going to hurt, Raven forced herself to walk without support, flinching every time she moved and she knew that she would pay for this later, and it would be hell to recover from. Molly made sure she was stable and thus the three of them began to move down the tunnel as fast as they could as rocks and dirt began to come down around them like rain.

Jackson was right. The damn thing was collapsing and fast.

Behind them there was a roar and a cracking of ancient wood as the walls and ceiling where they had just been standing collapsed entirely, blocking off any exit back toward the mansion. A giant crack began to spread across the ceiling, quickly outpacing even them as it split the roof of the tunnel in two. The ground shook, making keeping their footing get more and more difficult. Water had begin to spray in through the cracks.

"We must be near the lake!" Jackson barked, ducking a chunk of rock as it fell towards his head.

As they moved, the floor sloped up and finally they hit a dead end.

Instead of the access panel that should have been there, there was simply a thick wooden panel that had been reinforced with braces and cement and sealed in place. The wood was moldy and green and looking at it, Jackson felt a chill run down his spine.

They weren't going to come out near the lake.

The tunnel exit had flooded and had been sealed off years ago. Roy probably sealed it off before Jackson ran his cables and that meant there was nothing above them but several thousand or more gallons of cold black lake water and that was behind them was a burning quickly collapsing tunnel that was now flooding faster than a bathtub. Jackson looked down and saw his feet were now submerged up to his ankles.

"DAMN IT!" he snarled and slammed his hand into the wooden plug.

"What is it? Where's the exit?" Molly panted, blowing her hair out of her face as Raven braced herself against the wall. She looked down and saw the water level was quickly rising in the tunnel.

"This was the exit! There should have been a ladder here, a door! It must have been covered over and submerged when the lake was rerouted for the water system. When I first came down here a few years ago, the tunnel was clear....Roy must have sealed it so I could have ran the cables." Jackson said, defeat swelling in his voice.

They were going to die. Die drowning. How ironic.

"What's above us?" Molly asked, her quick eyes assessing the wooden and cement plugs.

"The lake!" Jackson lamented as the cold muddy water began to lick up to his shins.

"We have to break it. Flood the tunnel. We can swim up through the surface once the pressure equalizes!" Raven said, looking up at the two of them, her hair hanging down in front of her white muzzles face in damp strands.

"Its braced with concrete! How are we going to break it?!" Jackson asked, indicating the obvious.

"We can do it...we're strong enough to, together...all three of us. That thing looks like its rotten anyway. If we can clear the wood support, the concrete plug should collapse like a bathtub drain..." Molly said, catching Raven's eye and nodding.

It was a plan. Not a good one, but all they had.

"Whatever we do we need to do it quickly!" Raven barked, her violet eyes widening as the water had risen up to her waist. She climbed a bit more up the sloped floor, grimacing as she did.

Molly and Jackson pulled her up even with them, her water logged clothes weighing her down. Behind them, the tunnel floor where they had been earlier was already underwater. Fear was an excellent motivator, Raven decided as she forced herself to stand.

She reared back a fist and slammed it with all her might into the decayed wood. The impact even on her stronger bones and muscles was jarring, rattling her teeth. Pain exploded and shot up to her shoulder. She growled with it and hit it again.

Jackson joined her and then Molly and in short order, the three of them began to rain down crescendos of blows in sequence, each one throwing everything they had into it.

The water level rose higher as the cracks in the ceiling and walls grew wider and the wall on the right bulged alarmingly, the support beam creaking and moaning under the strain.

Molly heard the sound and turned. Seeing the bulge she dove down into the filthy water with a splash. A moment later, she surfaced, soaked and came back with a piece of the metal bracing that had snapped off one of the wooden columns.

"This place is coming part! We need to get out now!" she yelled, shaking water out of her eyes, her golden cross glinting as the water began to reach the cables.

Sparks flew. The lights flickered and sputtered and with a sizzle and a final POP they went out, throwing all them into pitch darkness.

Raven's eyes flashed purple in the dark and Jackson's yellow ones joined her not long after. Molly knew that even with their enhanced vision, it would be useless down here. They needed some light in order for it to work and right now, they were as blind a she was.

Cursing she fell and felt a pair of hands grab her and haul her up.

"Thanks..." she sputtered. The wall next to them cracked more and in the dark the sound was deafening. A hard jet of icy water sprayed, striking all three of them.

Molly felt using her hands and found weakest looking brace, the one in the middle of the wooden support plug. Blindly, she rammed the metal bracer she had snagged into it, shoving it deep between the metal studs and wooden connectors. She tested its security and found that she had made a solid lever but it wouldn't budge. She wasn't strong enough to move.

She reached out in the dark and grabbed a hunk of fur. Jackson yelped in pain.

"That was my chest!"

"Sorry! Hands up here!" Molly told him as she guided his hands up to the bar. Raven felt up in the blackness as well. Once they were all on board, each one with both hands wrapped around the improvised pry bar, Molly gave the order.

"PULL!"

Screams and roars of effort filled the tiny dark space and Raven felt the water finally climb up to her chest, its icy cold fingers soaking her down to her undercoat. Her clothes felt heavy and her strength was failing. Her leg was killing her and the water's depth was now making it hard to stand and keep her footing on the sloped floor. The floor itself was turning to a silt filled sludge.

With a snarl of its own, the bulging wall finally gave way and with a single explosion sending rock and dirt and cable pieces everywhere, the lake cascaded into the tunnel, icy water rushing into the now gaping hole. The flood rushed up and down the tunnel, slamming the Raven, Jackson and Molly apart.

All three of them went under, the black liquid death yanking them to drown in an icy abyss.

Fighting for the surface, Raven managed to break the surface and now the water was at her neck line. She was having to tread water to stay afloat. A cold panic began to set in.

"Jackson?! MOLLY!" She screamed, feeling in the darkness for them, slapping the water.

With a massive splash, the two of them surfaced a moment later and Raven felt their warm bodies shivering with the cold as they swam back over to the sound of her voice and the faint purple glow of her eyes.

Reaching up, Raven yanked on the improvised bar again. Her arms trembled, shoulders burned. She grunted with the effort and finally Jackson and Molly joined her and as one, they pulled, putting all their weight into it.

The cross bar support didn't budge but it bent, creaking in angry protest at the treatment it was getting.

"NOW"! Raven screamed and heaved, feeling the beam began to weaken at last.

Above them, the wooden panel began to creak louder and jets of water began to spray in from around its edges.

In her mind, Raven saw the red eyed Rakinos as he took everything from her, took everything from everyone. She saw a monster for what he was and it angered her. She dug deep into herself for the rage that she knew Max used every night but for her, it was harder. She didn't have that or so she thought and as she dug, she finally hit it.

All the bullshit at work from patients who didn't trust shifters.

_ The bullshit from the news._

_ The politicians and their insanity. The cruelty she saw every night in the emergency room and above it all, a red eyed beast._

Snarling she threw every last ounce of strength she had in it. She could feel the bar vibrating from the strain the three of them were putting on it. Overhead the wooden platform plug groaned loudly, and the sound of cracking wood and screaming metal joined the surge of the water that was now up to their chins.

She made up her mind that she was not going to die there.

Together, they were going to get their family back.

A sound came out of her, in fact, came out of all of them as they put their last bit of strength into the bar, a single group roar of determination and finally a new sound joined the chaos.

The sound of a center beam giving way.

It snapped loudly like a wet bone and all three of them fell backward, splashing into the water, briefly going under before they surfaced from the recoil. Above them the wooden plug began to shake and large cracks split it in two.

"Move away from it!! Grab onto to each other!" Molly yelled, sticking out her hand as the water pushed them higher to the ceiling leaving little room to breathe. She felt Jackson grab her and then Raven grabbed Jackson.

"When that panel breaks, take a breath and hold it!!! Swim the moment its clear! DON"T LET GO!"

With a groan and a great roaring of tortured wood, the platform gave way in an explosion of splinters and metal shards. With a hulking splash, the cement plug that had holding back the lake collapsed into pieces, and the lake, eager to fill this new void rushed in with a torrent of wicked dark icy water.

The water roared churning the already water filled tunnel and Raven inhaled deeply and shut her eyes as the wave rushed over her, smashing her hard in the head and chest, knocking her backward. She felt her grip on Jackson's hand loosen from the force and for a moment she thought she would be swept away when Jackson's hand clamped down on hers even harder so hard it hurt and he yanked her towards them.

There was no more air pocket. The tunnel was totally flooded. Raven kicked viciously pushing herself towards the now gaping hole in the flooded tunnel, seeing nothing but cold empty darkness and the muted shadows of things, fish and other animals rushing by them as they struggled to get out into the open lake.

Once they were out of the tunnel, they were surrounded by obsidian darkness, unable to see, only feel the awful pressure on their chests, threatening to crush the oxygen out of them. Above them, Raven could see the water lighten as the silver moon and a strange orange glow lit up the surface of the lake. She focused on the moon, and swam as hard as she could.

The water was so heavy. It felt like she was moving through molasses and a moment later, her heart was demanding more oxygen, oxygen that her lungs couldn't provide as the air she had taken in finally ran out.

Raven could see Molly and Jackson above. They were faster than she was. Her knee was begging for a break. Frowning she shoved herself up more, kicking her feet anyway against the pain, swinging her arms wildly towards the surface, her brain screaming for air.

Raven knew that the brain and body after a certain time period, usually just longer than a minute would reflexively force her to breath and inhale. It was an involuntary reaction and she was more than ten feet from the surface still. The edges of her vision were going dark from the over saturation of carbon dioxide in her system. She needed to breathe. She needed that exchange of gases before she went unconscious. Had she not inhaled enough before the plug collapsed? It didn't matter. She could feel the reaction building and she panicked, shoving herself forward but her body betrayed her in that same instant and she inhaled.

Lake water rushed into her mouth and nose, flooding her lungs. It burned worse than anything she could have imagined and she gasped again reflexively and swallowed more water. Raven felt her heart hammer as she began to choke and a moment later the surface of the lake began to fall away as darkness took her.

With a splash, Jackson surfaced and sucked in air, his head hammering, his lungs begging for release and he felt that release finally come as his body took in that welcome oxygen, fish smell and all. He panted, and shook his head, shaking the water out of his ears and nose. He spat instinctively and wiped his eyes clear. His fur was slickly stuck to his skin.

A second later, Molly surfaced next to him, her skin flushed, her red hair matted to her head.

"Where's Raven?" Molly panted, swiveling left and right.

A horrible realization came over her and she dove down underwater.

There, floating, suspended in the dark, was Raven. She seemed to be flying, the moon light turning her fur into arctic snow, her brown hair flowing out behind her as her arms and legs hung limply in the water. She was sinking down slowly, vanishing into the dark.

Molly surfaced, panting, breathing explosively. "She's drowning!"

Inhaling deep, Jackson pulled every bit of air into his lungs and dove under, closing his eyes against the initial cold submergence. Once he was under he opened them again, his eyes glowing yellow in the dark of the water. The moon light provided enough light for his night vision to work and there he saw Raven, floating deeper down to towards the lake bottom.

He surged forward, kicking his back feet and using his hands to push down, his tail flowing behind him like a rudder. The water pushed his ears flat against his head and the silt in the water stung his eyes. Down, down, deeper until finally he was next to her. Reaching out, Jackson snagged Raven in one arm and turned, reaching for the surface with the other.

A second later, though it seemed like forever, Jackson's canine head broke the surface and he shoved hard, pushing Raven above the water. Molly moved in and grabbed her, helping him support her. Together, they made for the shoreline.

Jackson and Molly both looked at where the mansion had been. It had stood over a hundred years, a beacon of hope and light, a home to all of them at some point, and now, it lay in a crater of burning wood and ashes, reduced to nothing, the fire lighting up the woods for over a mile around them, thick black smoke pouring into the star light night sky.

Reaching the shore line, Molly and Jackson heaved themselves out onto the muddy dirt and a moment later, dragged Raven out behind them. Molly worked quickly and lay Raven on her side, tilting her head.

"Hold her there!" she told Jackson and he took hold of Raven's shoulders. Molly opened Raven's mouth, careful of her fangs and ran a finger just behind the back of her tongue and Raven's body spasmed and a torrent of vomit and filthy water rushed out of Raven's mouth.

Once it stopped, Molly pushed Raven onto her back and began mouth to mouth resuscitation. It was difficult; she was trained to give CPR on a human victim and with Raven in her wolf form and unable to change back, Molly had to improvise. She looked at Jackson.

"I'm going to start chest compressions. Every five compressions, I want you to take her snout and close it entirely then give a hard breath down her nose. Understand?" Molly said, her eyes darting from Jackson to Raven.

Jackson nodded and assumed his position, squelching in the mud, water dripping from his fur.

Molly ripped off what was left of her outer jacket, leaving her in her white undershirt and sports bra. Tossing it aside, she began, lacing her fingers together and pushing hard on Raven's chest. The force collapsed Raven's ribcage, pushing it in. Repeating it four more times, Jackson sealed Raven's snout, closing her mouth and holding it shut. He leaned forward and sealed his lips over the end of her muzzle and blew hard.

Molly watched as Raven's chest rose and fell and she dove in again as Jackson pulled away.

They repeated the moves three more times and nothing had happened.

Raven wasn't waking up.

She wasn't moving or responding and her skin under her fur had taken on a shade of blue. Molly felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

"No, no no...you are not dying on me, Jones..." she said and as she did, she saw the loss in Jackson's eyes. He was giving up hope and after they went two more rounds, Molly felt that defeat begin to creep into her as well as her shoulders began to burn.

They had lost so much in a single night. There was no way they were going to lose someone else. It wasn't fair. Rakinos couldn't take it all away....

....could he?

Grunting with the effort and pain in her back, Molly dove again and again Jackson breathed for Raven, her white furred chest rising and falling. Six minutes later, Molly and Jackson, both exhausted, stopped and checked Raven again.

No response.

"No..." Molly heard herself whisper. She dove in again and Jackson touched her shoulder and she looked up at him, her eyes wild, her red hair in her face.

Jackson simply shook his head. "She's gone, Molly..."

"No. She isn't!"

Molly started compressions again and she went until her arms gave out and she collapsed back on her haunches, tears flowing down her cheeks. She sobbed quietly, knowing that Draco was gone. She could feel it in her gut. They had been together now for years. She knew things. And now, Raven too. It was too much.

A shade descended next to her and knelt with her. Furry arms reached out and pulled her close and she gave in to Jackson's embrace. They sat there, under the moon as their home burned behind them, crying into each other and at last, Jackson took a final look at Raven.

She had always been a fighter, he thought. She always was there for him to talk to. Hyper intelligent, and a heart that was as fierce and kind as it was large. She was the sister he had never had and now, she lay in the shadow of a tree with the silver moonlight filtering down through the branches, turning her white fur silvery like fresh snow, her brown hair spread out behind her like wings, her purple eyes looking at a star field that despite the horror, still shone eternally. The heat of the blaze behind them was dying down, not much but some and both Molly and Jackson felt the chill of the night wind on their soaked bodies.

Reaching out gently, Jackson closed Raven's eyes.

She looked like she was resting and maybe, she was.

Neither of them saw Raven's feet move, just a bit and neither of them saw her fingers close and open and neither of them saw her begin to squirm.

The sudden and unexpected explosive sound of Raven coughing violently made both Molly and Jackson's eyes go wide as they stared in shock.

Raven sat up, spitting up more water, coughing so hard they could both see the veins in her neck stand out. At last the coughs subsided and she looked at both of them, her eyes blood shot.

"We made it..." she said weakly.

Jackson dove at her and wrapped her in deep embrace, tears of joy flowing down his furred face.

"You made it..." he said quietly. When he pulled away, Raven saw Molly sitting there, smiling, her eyes moist, holding her golden cross between her fingers.

"I knew you were too tough to let a little water get you..." she said, and they both helped Raven to her feet. She stood unsteadily for a moment but then found her balance and together they looked back at the burning crater of a mansion and grounds, the fields littered with broken burning stone, metal, wooden beams and the air filled with fluttering pages of books now obliterated.

Steeling herself, Raven looked at the mess and swallowed. When she spoke her voice was weak and gravely.

"The garage looks untouched...we can get med kits from the cars and get a transport out of here....maybe someone is alive up there." She said and began to move off towards the flaming rubble. Behind her, Molly and Jackson picked themselves up and set out after her.

(....to be continued! Updates are usualy every other day or so. )