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Lykos Chapter 4 (Dreams and Visions)

Excitement was building all over campus for the coming Thanksgiving holiday. The weather was getting colder and the first snow had fallen, turning the green campus into a white one. While it was wet and frigid outside, the geology class was kept quite warm. Scarves and coats hung off of the back of the desks. Unlike most class rooms, the geology lecture room was darker. The carpets were nearly black, the desks were made of a rich, dark red wood and even the lighting was a bit dimmer, unassisted by natural light since the clouds were thick enough to make even mid-day seem like evening.

The class was largely quiet as the students wrote about the snowball Earth theory, using geologic records to study the historical balance of the Earth resetting itself when it got too warm. Marco, however, was trying to draw back his memories of the earlier lecture and book reading. He chewed a bit on his pencil, his teeth having an easier time than usual etching through the yellow paint and sinking into the soft wood encasing the graphite within.

At last the memories started to flow and he brought his pencil down, scribbling out his answers. Marco had changed a lot in the last few weeks and it seemed ever day that his old life was further behind him than ever before. He had changed a lot physically as well, something that his classmates had commented on, though in positive ways. He was more muscular, his beard was coming in and he was letting his hair grow out. At Fletcher's request he had even gotten his ears pierced, though he had been sure to specify gold earrings rather than silver. Every so often he reached up to idly play with one, feeling it dangle around in his ear.

Marco brought his attention back to his homework, writing down more about the oceanic currents that were disrupted by fresh water. He felt like he was really getting into his stride when he heard the door to the classroom open, then murmurs behind him. Marco put his pencil down and turned, seeing that it was a delivery boy carrying a glass vase of dark red roses. The delivery boy moved up to the professor and whispered to him. The professor looked irritated but he couldn't very well turn the display away.

"Mister Iona, it appears you have some flowers..." The professor said. Marco looked shocked at that, but he started to blush.

"Looks like someone made a lady friend in town." One of his classmates chided.

"You sly dog." Another chuckled.

"Just remember, we only have twenty three minutes left for your papers." The professor said. The students grew quiet at that, though all eyes were on Marco as he moved to the front of the class and picked up the vase, retreating to his desk quickly. He set it down awkwardly next to his paper, looking at them with wonder. Eleven dark red roses. No one had ever given him such a romantic gift before. He'd have to reward Fletcher quite handsomely for his kindness.

Marco leaned in slowly, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He was nearly overwhelmed with the rick velvety scent of the roses, so strong with his new senses. They smelled like spring, like love, like a buttery warm hug. It was hard to define, but Marco loved it all. He took another whiff, then a third, but he smelled something else... glue. Marco opened one eye and then the other, spotting a card tucked inside the flowers. He reached in and fished out the small envelope, running a finger along the seam. The paper gave way and soon Marco extracted the paper from inside. In meticulous cursive there was an invitation to the Capricorn bar and grill at seven. Marco's blush grew even more intense.

"No fair, that girl invited Marco to a date!" The clueless classmate whined.

"Hey, if you looked like Captain Morgan's kid, you might get some dates too." The other murmured. Marco was too distracted to give them any mind, grinning from ear to ear as he folded up the note and slid it into his pocket. He was sure of it now. He was going to have to make sure Fletcher had the most romantic night of his life.

****

The university campus had been well designed, offering the students all the amenities they needed for day to day life - from convenience stores to laundry machines and a gym with all the trimmings, there was technically no reason anyone needed to leave. That was what made nights on the town feel so exotic, so alien. After spending days on campus with a student body of all men, Marco was walking down a street with people of all ages and all genders.

Marco looked at everyone moving up and down the street, bundled up in their puffy coats and thick shoes to keep the cold at bay. He felt a bit under-dressed in just a black button up shirt and black jeans, but the cold didn't feel bad. If anything it felt right, more like home, but Marco didn't care what anyone else thought. He waited for the cross walk to turn before he jogged across the street. He ran through the headlights of the stopped cars and reached the other side, looking at the corner grill.

The Capricorn had been there for decades, offering the students who were of age a good place for a steak and beer. It had its own micro-brewery in the back but maintained a family feel for the most part. Marco looked around, seeing families at some booths, boys and girls at others, even a few tables of rowdy men from the univeristy. Marco lifted his arm and glanced at his watch. He still had two minutes. Maybe he'd beaten Fletch there.

Marco moved in further, about to ask for a table when he paused. While faint, he could smell the scent of another rose. He turned and narrowed right in on where it was, sitting at the edge of a table in the exact corner of the grill. Marco's grin returned and he bypassed the server, walking past the gathered families, approaching the table and his date. Marco's heart leapt with excitement and anticipation. He could see the hands resting on the table, nervously wringing themselves together. He could see arms clad in a button up shirt just like his. Marco rounded the corner with a huge, loving grin... until he saw Artyom at the table.

All color drained from Marco's face. His heart skipped a beat and fell out of pattern. Marco's muscles tensed and the confusion was intense enough to make him feel almost ill. The roses hadn't been sent by Fletcher after all, they had been sent by the werewolf that had turned him into what he was. Marco moved over and sat down, his face grim.

"You came." Yom said with relief.

"What in the hell is going on here? What is the idea of sending me a message like that?" Marco asked. Artyom looked rather non-plussed at such a harsh greeting.

"We may have other lives, but isn't it typical to ask someone out on a date with a gesture?" Yom asked.

"Not when they are seeing someone else... Then it is considered highly inappropriate." Marco replied, "You do know I'm with Fletcher, right? I'm taken."

"Fletcher..." Yom said with disgust, "I don't know why you haven't gotten another roommate, or moved out on your own. You do realize he's just a human after all. He can't feel what we've felt, he can't experience what we've experienced... Not as he is, and if you try to turn him, he could die."

"Fletcher is not just some human. He is creative and compassionate and loyal and honest. He is everything a man could want. You, on the other hand, are a beast. What you were going to do to Udo, what the other wolves were trying to do? It is barbaric." Marco grunted. Yom grinned, exposing sharper teeth than he should have had.

"Admit it, when you mounted me you felt the beast. You felt that contentment, you felt the power and the dominance. You showed me where I belonged and you felt a certainty in what your purpose was." Yom whispered.

"I did it to protect Udo, nothing more." Marco replied, looking away.

"It shows that you liked it, feeling your hot, dripping werewolf cock locked tight in my ass, dripping, filling my belly with your seed?" Yom whispered before leaning in closer, "You're going to be an alpha, Marco... I can see you rising to your place of power, having an entire pack begging to be fucked by your huge wolf meat. I just want to be part of that pack, Marco. I want to be yours." Yom said. Marco slammed his hand down on the table before he stood up.

"There's only one other person in my pack. Fletcher is my mate, and there's nothing else to discuss." Marco said before he turned and stormed out of the restaurant. Artyom watched Marco stalk away before leaving the grill, passing by the window on the outside before disappearing from view. Artyom's upper lip began to twitch gently. He felt a fire in his soul, a rage, an anger and the intense pain of rejection.

His fingernails began pushing out, sliding to their points as he dragged his claws across the table top. They cut through the sealer, the glaze and then the wood, leaving distinct grooves. Artyom had pictured many outcomes for the night, from Marco never showing up to a reluctant, awkward dinner, but he hadn't pictured being stood up outright, or flat out rejected.

Artyom's eyes began shifting from brown to yellow as the rage built higher and higher inside of his heart. Fletcher wasn't just a mistake, a wrong choice to be corrected. He was an obstacle. Artyom knew if he couldn't convince Marco that this was the right path to take, he'd have to try another strategy. He'd have to talk to Fletcher. Yom pulled out his wallet and put down money for the coffee he'd ordered before he stood up. He nearly left before he stopped and turned, looking back at the single rose.

The bearded Russian man reached down and picked it up, holding it in his hand before he slowly started to close it. He didn't wince as the thorns pierced his flesh and blood began to well out. He merely focused on the sight of the single flower, the one alone out of many. He swore he would not suffer the same fate before he turned and moved out of the grill and into the cold winter night.

**** Fast, heavy mechanized beats filled the store, coupled with the fast paced lyrics of Mike Shinoda and backed up by the rest of Linkin Park. The song had been out nearly a year but Fletcher couldn't help but tap his foot and sway his hips as he listened to the song. He even bobbed his head a bit as it got to the dubstep instrumental riffs between the chorus. It was a bit over-expressive, but Fletcher couldn't have cared less what people thought.

He moved around the outer edge of the dimly lit store, running his hand over the fabric of various coats and shirts all emblazoned with the emblems of various skate and bike companies. Fletcher was already dressed for the cold, wearing a sweatshirt and a scarf, his beanie cap pulled down tighter over his buzzed brown hair. His rectangular black frame glasses rested on his nose as he examined various price tags. They were alright prices, but he knew there would be a few better sales as they got closer to Christmas. Fletch turned, looking at the wall of skateboards mounted behind the cash register before he gave a wave.

"I'll see you next time Steve!" Fletch said before he moved back toward the entry way, picking up the spiced mocha he'd left on the window sill. As he moved back out into the cold, he sipped at the hot beverage, smiling with a cheshire like grin. He exhaled and watched his warm breath turn to steam before he turned, making his way back toward campus. It felt good to get away from the school a bit, but he wished Marco had come with him... or anyone really.

In a strange way it felt almost like he'd been getting lost in a new world but lacked anyone to share his with. Fletch tried to think of a legitimate reason to drag Marco off of campus. Maybe a movie? Or clothes shopping. He could make his roommate try on colorful tiny underwear that showed off his ass. Fletcher murmured happily at that idea, feeling even warmer as his circulation shifted to bring blood down to his groin.

Fletcher was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the boots crunching into the snow behind him, picking up speed. Artyom grabbed Fletcher by the shoulders, shoving him into an alleyway between the buildings. Fletch's spiced Mocha fell to the ground, the lid popping off, the brown liquid splashing up and then raining down across the snow. As the heat left the liquid, it began to freeze at once, turning icy.

In the alley, Fletcher yelped, trying to keep his footing. He spun around and skidded before coming to a stop, turning to look back at who had come after him. To his surprise it was Artyom, standing at the end of the alley. Fletcher's brows narrowed and he held up his hands.

"What the fuck, man? What are you trying to do?" Fletch asked. Artyom stalked closer, standing very much taller than Fletch. Fletch slowly raised his head, looking into the Russian's eyes.

"I want you to break up with Marco." Yom said bluntly. Fletch looked even more stunned at that.

"Uh, how about no." Fletch replied simply.

"I don't think you understand what is going on here. The night of the full moon, he fucked me... in ways he couldn't possibly fuck you." Yom replied. Fletch crossed his arms.

"He told me... He was trying to protect Udo and you two got into a fight. It seemed to be the only way to stop you." Fletcher replied. Yom growled gently at that.

"Marco is a werewolf now, things aren't going to be normal for either of you. As a dominant wolf he may end up fucking other wolves, lots of them. Your relationship isn't going to last. You should end it now before it gets harder." Artyom said.

"Trust me, Artie, I have no problems with redefining the parameters of our relationship. If Marco needs to fuck another wolf, I can live with that. Who knows, maybe one day I'll end up with a puppy pile between Marco and Liam with an erection so hard I die, but none of that is going to change me being Marco's boyfriend. It isn't going to scare me off." Fletch replied.

"It isn't to protect you. Marco won't be with me if he has a boyfriend. He is too... commited, too loyal." Yom growled more. Fletcher lowered his arms.

"Even if I break up with him, that doesn't mean he's going to be with you. He wants to be with a good guy, a guy with morals." Fletch said. Artyom let out a fierce roar, bearing his fangs as his ears grew into points and his eyes turned yellow. Fletcher's eyes slowly widened in shock, but not from the roar. Artyom's face softened as he saw the look on Fletcher's face but couldn't figure out why - until he felt something hot and wet on his fingers. Yom slowly looked down, watching the blood drip from his claws.

Fletch looked down at his own torso, watching the red blossom out from the slices through his layers of clothing, staining the material before running down. Soulful brown eyes looked back up at Yom briefly, blinking once before he slowly crumpled to the ground, falling into a bed of snow. His glasses fell from his face, clattering across the ground. Yom backed up slowly, breathing faster and harder, shocked at what he had done. As he stepped back, though, an intense pain ripped up his spine. He let out a yelp at that, grunting sharply. It felt as if his bones were molten metal. Soon his entire face was stinging.

Artyom doubled over, panting and wheezing. The pain was so intense it knocked the wind out of him, but it had been just the start. A sickening crunch of bones echoed from beneath his flesh as his back started to reorient itself. His coat rippled and shifted as bones started pushing out against his skin, stretching it painfully. Artyom was panting faster and faster with the pain before he nearly howled, feeling sharp claws piercing through his skin, but not from his finger tips.

The Russian wolf watched in horror as claws were coming out from his knuckles, tearing through skin and emerging from bone. His fingers went numb and the flesh began to wither, pulling back toward the knuckle as his hand became more claw like. Artyom had never felt anything as painful before in his life. It felt like his body was trying to tear itself apart.

Another wave of pain brought Yom down onto his hands and knees. He coughed and spat up blood, but it was more than that. In the midst of the blood there was something a little paler, ivory and white. Yom soon realized it was one of his teeth. The canine had been knocked out, making room for a far longer, curved fang. Soon another tooth popped out and a second fang sunk in.

Panic, fear and dread spread through Yom's mind. He had committed an unspeakable act, he had killed an innocent man, he had given into his basic instincts. He wasn't in harmony with his own body. He was becoming a fang clan, a direwolf. Yom tried in desperation to focus on the good in his life, to hold onto what made him him, but the pain was too distracting. It reminded him of the loss, the rage, the rejection, the anger, the fear.

Artyom tipped his head back and screamed out, using his short, stubby paws to tear at his button up shirt, exposing his chest and back as it fell to the ground. His shoulders were awkward and wide and his spine was pushed out, sharp ridges of vertebrae distending the flesh. His bones continued to pop and shift without any relief, without any comfort. Splotches of bruises were forming under his skin, the purple spreading as the skin looked less and less healthy... and then the first patch of skin tore across a shoulder blade.

It was almost like tissue paper coming apart to reveal the gift beneath, but to Artyom it was a curse. Wet, bloody fur appeared beneath the human skin, pushing outward. The skin tore more and more, revealing more of the wolf inside. Yom was blind to the pain, his entire body a sea of chaos. He opened his mouth wider and wider until the jaw broke and went slack. As his mouth opened, a wet black nose and a furry muzzle pushed out of the hole, sliding into the cold air before it parted, exposing wicked fangs. The canine muzzle snapped and growled sharply.

Like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, the wet bloody wolf continued to emerge. The flesh and bone shattered around the canine muzzle, tearing upwards to Artyom's hairline, splitting out around blood shot eyes. The blood was staining the iris, turning it from yellow to red. The feral, bloody wolf shook its head, shaking off the torn bits of skin and hear before its tall, pointed ears sprung up.

The beast inside Yom reached up with its paws and clawed at itself, slicing through the dead skin, pulling it away, letting it fall to the ground. As it emerged, the wolf continued to grow, spreading out into the furry body. The crimson had stained the brown, turning it almost a rusty black color. A grizzled tail emerged next and the beast pulled out of the last of the sloughed skin as if it had been a tight pair of jeans.

The direwolf took a few steps forward before it shook itself off, spraying the walls of the alleyway with blood. The pain was decreasing from an inferno of pain to a steady sizzling of the senses. It was nearly impossible for Artyom to think. He sniffed the air before lowering his head, running off down the street, leaving the alleyway and all it contained behind.

****

Marco burst into the dorm room, looking around hopefully... but Fletcher wasn't there. Marco cursed under his breath and grabbed the phone mounted to the side of his closet by the door, dialing Fletcher's cell phone number. The phone rang, then rang again, then rang a third time. Then there was a chime.

"Hey, you got the Rayne Man. Leave a message and I'll play it over and over." Fletcher's chirpy greeting replied. Marco heaved a breath.

"Hey Fletch, I really need to talk to you... Call me back as soon as you can." Marco said before he hung up. Marco was about to step away from the phone before he paused, thinking of something else. He picked up the phone again and pulled out the piece of paper tucked in between it and the wall. Unfolding it, he skimmed the numbers before dialing Ethan's. Once more the phone rang once, then twice before it clicked.

"Hello?" Ethan's voice questioned.

"Hey, It's Marco. I just... I may have just been an idiot. Yom tricked me into a date and I turned him down pretty flat. You don't think he'd be the kind of guy to like, do... anything... To Fletcher, do you?" Marco asked. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment.

"I think we need to find Fletcher... I'll put in some calls and then be right over." Ethan replied before the line went dead. Marco slowly hung up the phone and turned, putting his back to the door. That hadn't been reassuring at all. Marco started to fear what might have happened to Fletch. Had Yom given him the bite, or was it some harmless problem with Fletch's phone being dead? Had Marco unwittingly put his roommate in danger? That was the one thing he had wanted to avoid the whole time. Marco let out a growl and slammed his fist against the wall, wincing as his claws cut his palm.

****

The alleyway had grown deathly silent. Snow floated down from above, touching down on top of the blood stained flakes below. In the middle of it all was Fletcher's body. His skin had grown pale and cold. Small flakes landed on his cheeks and eyelashes, but they didn't start to melt. It was as serene as it was tragic, but the silence came to an end as the sound of shoes skidding across the ice echoed against the brick walls.

Black and green skate shoes navigated the treacherous ice, picking up speed as they made their way toward the alley. The running figure picked up too much speed and started to slide. A cinnamon colored hand shot out, bracing against the brick wall, redirecting his momentum. The man came running up to Fletcher's side before crouching down, looking at the severity of the injuries.

The man was twenty six with an obvious latino heritage. His skin was well tanned and his face clean shaven. His black hair looked as though it had been buzzed short at one point in the distant past, the tips all clean and tidy, but it had grown out perfectly straight but puffy in a way, almost like a straight afro. Despite the cold, he was dressed only in black cargo pants and a striped t-shirt. The gray shirt had horizontal stripes transitioning from a brownish teal near his shoulders to a lime green by his waist. The young man's ears glinted in the light, his gauge piercings guarded by almost mirrored chrome rings. He also had snake bite piercings on either side of his lower lip, providing him something to nervously run his tongue against as he looked at Fletcher's injuries.

Without further hesitation, the young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal flask. It was fairly unremarkable except for an engraving on one side, a circle rising above a rippling wavy line. He unscrewed the lid and tipped the flask over Fletch's abdomen, allowing the milky liquid to pour out onto the wound. At first there was no reaction, but slowly the wound began to bubble and fizzle gently. The man moved next to bring the flask to Fletcher's cold lips, tipping it in.

Warm liquid flowed into the cool mouth and the man began massaging Fletcher's throat, trying to manipulate it into swallowing. Drop by drop, the liquid began sliding down Fletch's throat, landing in his stomach. The warm liquid seemed to spread its heat out along his mouth, his throat, then his stomach. Ever so slowly Fletch's heart took a labored beat, then another. His chest rose next before lowering slowly. The man nodded at that before, setting the flask to his side before he reached down, grabbing at his favorite shirt.

Closing his eyes, the man tore into it, creating a strip out of the cloth. He carefully brought it down over Fletcher's torso, wrapping it around his puncture wounds and then around the small of his back before tying it into place. He picked up the flask once more before pouring the last of the liquid onto the bandage over the wound. Once it was soaked, he put the lid back on and returned the flask to his pocket before he slid his arms under Fletcher's back and lifted him up.

Fletch's body was limp and weak, like a rag doll, but his chest was still rising and falling and his pulse was picking up again. He was near death, or possibly even back from its icy grips, but the road to life was going to be a long one. The mysterious man put one foot before the other, carefully walking over the ice with Fletcher in his arms before disappearing down the street. The alley itself was left to icy solitude, a mysterious red spot soaked into the snow in the center. Even that was disappearing beneath new layers of flakes falling from the heavens.

**** Fletcher murmured softly, a smile crossing his lips. He felt warm and safe and comfortable, and his mouth tasted oddly like horchata. There was a sound of ocean waves near by and cicadas chirping away. Fletch slowly licked his lips before his eyes opened. A look of confusion crossed his face. He slowly sat up, looking around in shock. He was no where near the school. He was sitting in the sand next to an azure sea. He turned and looked inland, seeing soft grasses, palm trees and brush, though the further he looked, the hazier and foggier it was.

"Holy fuck, I'm dead..." Fletcher whispered.

"Actually, you're here instead of being dead." Came a melodic voice from near by. Fletcher turned, seeing a well tanned lanky young man with curly brown hair and deep green eyes. He was wearing gray woolen cloth secured by ornamental clasps that looked like wolf heads and a simple leather belt around his waist. The cloth stopped at his knees, leaving his legs bare and his feet clad in hand made sandals.

"Who are you?" Fletcher whispered. The man smiled at that.

"My name is Nyctimus, and I'm here to help you." He replied.

****

Marco and Ethan moved down the apartment complex hallway quickly. Ethan turned the corner, guiding them both to their destination. Marco was breathing fast and hard, his lips held tight over large fangs, trying to keep a hold on his emotions. Ethan knocked on the door twice, paused, then knocked three times. After a delay the door opened, revealing the man that had found Fletcher. He was still wearing his torn up shirt, his pants stained with dried blood.

"Come in, please." He said urgently. Ethan moved into the small apartment.

"Thank you Matias. This is Marco." Ethan said. Marco didn't waste any time with greetings, moving past his host and the small kitchenette to the bed at the back of the room. Fletcher was laying their, his abdomen wrapped up with sopping wet cloths. He was still pale and unconscious.

"What happened to him, why is he here? We need to get him to the hospital!" Marco snarled, his ears pushing into points.

"He's beyond the reach of the hospital, he'd die in minutes there." Matias replied.

"Marco, Matias is a keeper like me. He specializes in healing magic. We're very fortunate that this happened so close to him." Ethan said. Marco sniffed at Fletcher, leaning down, inhaling. He smelled death, decay and the body's feeble efforts to heal. He also smelled the overwhelming tang of blood.

"Yom did this... Yom tried to kill him." Marco snarled, his claws pushing out.

"Marco, you need to calm down and keep focused." Ethan said, "Losing yourself to rage isn't going to help Fletcher."

"We have another problem. The wolf that did this to him... went dire." Matias said softly.

"Oh no..." Ethan murmured, feeling sorrow and dread fill him at once.

"Dire... Direwolf? A fang clan? Artyom became one of those monsters?" Marco asked.

"Not yet..." Matias replied, "Committing such a heinous act has thrown him out of balance. His wolf is in control, but if we can remind him of who he is, if we can get him to reconnect with his human side before he reverts, we can save him from becoming that monster for the rest of his life."

"He IS a monster. Look what he did to Rayne!" Marco roared.

"Marco, this may have been an accident. I've known Artyom for a few years now. He's impulsive, but he isn't a killer... But no matter what he did to Fletcher, it isn't as bad as what he could do as a direwolf. If he spends the rest of his life as a murderer, killing and maiming with no regards to himself or others? What would Fletcher want you to do?" Ethan asked. Marco cringed at that before lowering his gaze.

"He would want me to do what I could to save everyone." Marco murmured, exhaling slowly. He tried to calm himself before he looked up again, "But how do we do that?" he asked. Ethan glanced at Matias before looking back.

"We need to figure out what pushed him over the edge. We need to show him that he hasn't lost himself. Matias will try to heal Fletcher in time. If we can show him that he didn't kill an innocent, that could help, but we have to figure out what he was after in the first place." Ethan said. Marco's shoulders slumped.

"He was after me... He wanted to be... my mate." Marco muttered.

"I thought he'd given up trying to mount you." Ethan said in confusion. Marco blushed before shaking his head.

"During the full moon, to protect Udo I pinned him down and fucked him. Since then he's been obsessed with me. He sent me flowers, tried to convince me to leave Fletcher and be with him." Marco said.

"He lost his love and then his soul... We have to give him both back." Matias said. Marco looked at the new keeper and then back at Ethan.

"What does that mean?" Marco asked.

"I think it means you're going to have to throw your ideas of what makes a relationship out of the window. You're going to have to make Artyom yours." Ethan said.

"How do I do that? How can I ever look at him that way? He was the one that did this to me, and he tried to kill Fletcher! I can't!" Marco shouted.

"Don't think of the wolf in him, think of the human." Matias said.

"He sent you flowers? He tried to have a date with you?" Ethan asked.

"We don't have time for this, we have to heal Fletcher..." Marco groaned.

"I've used the most potent magic and elixirs I have. Fletcher has a chance, but its going to take some time and I doubt he wants to wake up knowing that other people died while he was asleep. You two need to go do your work so I can do mine." Matias said firmly. Ethan put his arm around Marco.

"Come on, let's go find Artyom. We can work about your feelings about him later." Ethan said. Marco looked back down at Fletcher before he leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

****

A warm, pleasant breeze blew against Fletcher's face and he smiled, closing his eyes to enjoy it for a moment before once more he returned his focus to the task at hand. His eyes opened and he looked at the Greek man before him.

"So you're Nyctimus? Son of Lycaon? The guy that keeps the secret of the wolves?" Fletcher asked.

"I'm what is left of him in this world, yes." Nyctimus replied.

"Well, Nick... What exactly is this whole thing? A near death experience? A time of contemplation?" Fletch asked.

"This is your chance to live. You're being kept alive by the magic of the keepers, but it isn't enough." Nyctimus replied.

"So its one of those remember-what-you-have-to-live-for things? Get all riled up and stuff?" Fletcher asked hopefully. Nyctimus looked puzzled by how strange this mortal was before he shook his head.

"You don't have the strength alone. You need a patron spirit to help you, to lend you their strength. Only then will you have the ability to heal enough for the keeper's magic to take hold." Nyctimus replied.

"A patron spirit? You wouldn't want the job, would you?" Fletcher asked hopefully. Nyctimus glared at that.

"Your life depends on finding a strong spirit, of your commitment and willingness, of your own inner strength." Nyctimus replied. Fletcher stood up from the sands and dusted himself off.

"I am plenty committed. I have a sexy werewolf boyfriend and a dad and a brother and a sister to go back to. I'll be damned if I wash up on some spirit beach and fade away to oblivion. If you're not going to help me, who is?" Fletcher demanded. At that, Nyctimus smiled.

"That is the fire you need, the strength." Nyctimus nodded before pointing, "My brothers are in the trees. There may be one that can give you the strength you need." Nyctimus said. Fletcher hesitated.

"Your brothers? All forty nine of them? I mean, I've heard the stories... They were turned into werewolves. You brought them back, but some more than others. I mean, the fangs? Are they in there too?" Fletcher asked. Nyctimus nodded slowly.

"Be careful where your soul wanders." Nyctimus said. Fletcher shrugged a bit.

"Actually, I think for this it might be better if I'm unsafe." Fletch replied before he turned, looked at the tree line and began advancing toward it.

**** The virgin snow crunched down beneath Marco and Ethan's shoes as they tracked further and further out of town. They had passed through the suburbs and were moving even further out where everything looked like a post card. There were vast fields covered with snow, trees without leaves with glittering icicles and even a covered bridge. Marco continued on wearing just the clothes from his ill fated date while Ethan was bundled in a much thicker yellow and black coat. Marco slowed down, stopping as he sniffed the air.

"Did you lose the scent?" Ethan asked. Marco shook his head.

"I smelled death on Fletcher, but it wasn't his scent... It was Artyom's." Marco whispered softly. Ethan closed his eyes, nodding gently.

"For werewolves like you, the change is growth and life, but for the direwolves each transformation is a death, either their human body or their wolf body. They decay and die and are shed away. We have to save Yom before he goes through that a second time. No one can endure that twice and come back from it." Ethan whispered.

Both men looked up as they heard a howl in the distance. Marco broke into a sprint and Ethan tried to keep up, but he was falling further and further behind. Marco's eyes turned yellow, his claws slipped out of his fingernails and his fangs grew in his mouth. He lunged over waist high wooden fences, rounding a house and moving to the back. As he came into the back yard, he skidded to a stop.

The snow was stained with blood. There were puddles of it everywhere, but there were also scraps of wool and errant feathers. The chicken coop had been destroyed and the barn door was ripped off of its hinges. Marco slowly approached the barn, stepping through the bloody snow. He felt his body preparing for a fight, preparing for anything. His ears went numb and deaf and his long black hair shifted as his ears migrated up to the top of his skull, reasserting themselves as fuzzy pointed ears. His pants sagged down as well as his tail pushed out, growing longer and fluffier by the moment. Even Marco's beard grew longer, dropping down to his collar bone... but it was nothing compared to what he saw in the barn.

The direwolf was massive, weighting at least seven hundred pounds. His dark fur was oily and greasy, his tail gnarled, his muzzle leathery. Marco heard bone crunching as he bit through the leg of lamb and swallowed it down. Blood dripped from the beast's lips. Marco was glad that Yom had gone to a farm to feed rather than feeding on humans, but it still was a bad sign. Marco slowly started to advance.

Red eyes lifted up. The direwolf sniffed the air before his black lips curled back and he began to growl. The remnants of the lamb were dropped to the ground. The direwolf began moving forward, growling more and more. Marco stood his ground, though he honestly felt quite a bit of fear. Yom wasn't just a wolf, he truly was a monster... a huge monster. The direwolf sniffed the air, eyeing Marco down. There was no recognition, it was as if they had met for the first time.

Marco tried to remind himself of what Ethan had said. He had to focus on Yom's human side. The guy that had been obsessed enough to chase him over campus, to give him flowers in class, to set up a date... But as much as Marco tried to focus on that, his mind went elsewhere... He thought of the box canyon, of fighting Yom before fucking him. The feel of his wolf cock slipping into that tight ass, the feel of waking up knotted to Yom. Even then Artyom had tried to pleasure him, to keep him there... and Marco felt himself getting strangely aroused.

That had to be his plan, that had to be it. He wasn't ready to love Artyom, but he could use sex to show the wolf his place. Marco reached down and ran his claws through his pants, shredding them open. The fabric fell apart in the cold winter wind and a hot, pointed, dripping red canine cock emerged from hiding. The direwolf sniffed the air again before growling more. One paw reached down to swipe at his own furry sheath. Black goo gushed out of the hole before a dark purple cock began emerging.

Marco's eyebrow raised at that. It seemed that the precedent was set. He had to fuck Artyom before he got fucked, probably to death. Marco lunged forward and so did the direwolf. The two charged at each other, but without warning Marco jumped to the side, landing in the snow. The direwolf skidded past him, trying to turn but failing. He fell over and rolled several times before hitting the house. Marco was back on his feet, running at the direwolf, jumping at him.

The direwolf rolled over and slashed into the air with all four limbs. Marco called out in pain as the claws tore into his chest and legs, but he bounced off and skidded across the snow. The direwolf rolled onto all fours and got up, growling more, approaching. He was dripping drool, blood and dark cum onto the ground. The snow was melting beneath his hot, wet body.

Marco used his breathing to push the pain out of his thoughts. He got back up and looked at the monstrous wolf. He backed up slowly, watching the direwolf stalk towards him. Marco had dealt with animals before. He had to try a risky move. Marco spun away and ran toward the fence as if he was going to escape. The direwolf broke into a full run to catch its prey. Marco hopped up onto the fence, but rather than going over it, he jumped back into the yard from it. The fence post exploded as the direwolf slammed into it at full force, Marco arching through the air, the direwolf beneath.

The beast snarled as it felt something grab onto its fur as Marco came down behind it. He grabbed the direwolf's tail with one hand and hiked it up before he slammed in with his hips. His pointed canine cock speared into the tail hole and deep into the direwolf's ass. Marco wasted no time and started humping with all his strength, though what he had done out of need quickly began to become something done out of pleasure. The ass felt even more amazing than before. It was hot and wet and welcoming. Marco fucked in and out of Yom's tail hole groaning.

The direwolf yelped and snarled in surprise, but it slowly stopped moving where it was... and started to pant. Since his transformation, Yom had felt nothing but pain and anguish and fear and hunger, nothing good. Now, from the depths of his prostate there was a pleasure slowly spreading into him. The direwolf snapped and bit at the air, but soon his tongue slipped out of his mouth, hanging limply to one side. He started to push his hips back against his aggressor.

Marco grunted, nearly knocked over by the seven hundred pound monster, but he groaned even louder, feeling Yom give into it. Marco closed his eyes and stopped thinking about being a good boyfriend, or being monogamous or a good person. He focused on the lonely Russian slut that wanted his cock. Marco fucked harder and deeper, growling and bearing his own fangs. He draped himself over the direwolf's hind quarters and reached down around beneath his legs. His clawed hand closed on the slimy purple cock, but Marco started to pump his hand up and down.

The direwolf collapsed face first into the snow, exhaling sharply with deep, satisfied pants. His claws dug into the dirt before him and his tail tried to wag, slapping against Marco's chest. Marco fucked him as deep as he could, hitting that special spot over and over, feeling the thick monster meat in his hand drooling openly, but Marco knew he needed more. He needed to reconnect with Artyom.

"I'm sorry about before, but I changed my mind Artyom." Marco said, "I can see a place in my pack for you, a place... for you with me." Marco said. The direwolf beneath him panted harder, his eyes squeezing shut tighter. While his body was a mixture of pleasure and pain, his mind had started to reawaken, struggling with the crushing emotions. He was wanted? By Marco? But it couldn't be, not after he'd killed Fletcher. The direwolf began to growl and rise back up. Marco grunted at that but fucked Artyom harder, trying to show him his place despite being so much smaller. Around the corner of the house, Ethan had been watching. Marco had done everything right, but they didn't have Fletcher yet. Yom had no reason to believe.

****

Matias had exhausted his inventory of the healing balm. He'd used every herb, every juice, every concentrate at his disposal. He stood over Fletcher, looking at him, waiting for any sign that something had changes. Matias had never had anyone waiver on the edge of life and death for so long, not like this. There had always been something to tip the balance one way or another. Matias had kept careful track of Fletcher's breathing, seeing no change and no alteration - making it that much of a shock when his eyes snapped open... and that much more horrifying when the black of Fletcher's eyes spread out, covering his irises and then the rest of his eyes until they were solid black orbs. Fletch's hand shot up, grabbing Matias by the throat. Matias grabbed at the hand, gasping as the black eyed Fletch turned to look at him.

"Even to this day you keepers are meddling? I could really have some fun with you all." The voice oozed out of Fletcher's lips with cool confidence before he winced and groaned. Fletch let go of Matias throat, reaching down to pull the sopping wet cloth from his abdomen. Matias ignored his instinct to run to look down, watching as the last of the puncture wounds closed up on Fletcher's abdomen.

"Who are you?" Matias whispered. Fletch looked back with his solid black eyes.

"Demeas..." The dark voice replied, arching his back gently before licking his lips. "What a subtle body this boy has."

"Demeas? The dark brother..." Matias whispered in horror.

"The boy sought out a spirit that could heal his wounds. Lucky for him, I was feeling generous. I will give him back to you, for now." The voice said with a soft grin that soon faded. The black in his eyes grew foggy and disappeared, leaving Fletcher looking groggy in turn. He soon yawned gently, reaching to scratch at his stomach before he turned, looking at Matias.

"Oh, hey. I don't know you..." Fletch said softly. Matias tried to shake off his shock, his brain struggling to remember what they were doing.

"Marco needs you. We have to stop Artyom from becoming a direwolf." Matias said, moving to scoop Fletcher up off the bed.

"Artyom? Oh my god, he stabbed me... He stabbed me and then... Then I was at the beach? Yeah, the beach... But Nick was there." Fletcher said, but Matias unceremoniously lifted Fletch up over his shoulder, carrying him for the door.

****

What had started as a surprise gambit had become the scene out of a rodeo. The direwolf was lunging and bucking, trying to throw Marco off so he could kill him and eat him, but Marco held on, his claws digging into Artyom's hips. Marco fucked as if his life depended on it, and it seemed to work a bit. Even after a half hour of that Yom was still stumbling every so often whenever the cock hit his prostate. Marco was struggling to hang on, knowing every moment he bought gave him a chance to save Fletch... if it was even possible.

Marco wondered if there was any point to it. Should he simply kill Yom? End the threat that way? But if taking a life had brought Yom to the brink of being a fang clan, would it do the same for him? Marco thought of himself turning into a direwolf, as a huge, massive beast... Hundreds of pounds of killer, merciless, monstrous... but what a good fuck he'd be able to give. Marco shook his head, snapping out of it, focusing on what he was doing once more. He'd gotten great at holding on to a moving mount, but when Artyom stopped, Marco overcompensated and nearly slid out of him.

Artyom had stopped to sniff the air. The wolf backed up slowly, his fur bristling and standing on end, whimpering as he watched movement from the house... and Fletcher walked out around the corner with Ethan and Matias behind him.

"Yom, it's okay. You didn't kill me, I'm alive." Fletcher said. Marco looked up at that, his yellow eyes getting watery before tears of joy rolled down his cheeks, but he yelped as the beast he was riding moved forward. The direwolf padded closer and closer, moving his muzzle to sniff at Fletcher. He brought his big black nose up to his bare stomach and sniffed directly. Fletcher felt a chill of fear run down his spine, especially as the direwolf opened his mouth and gave him a lick.

The tongue was eight inches wide, slathering across his exposed mid-riff. Yom gave it a long lick, then another and another. He butted Fletcher with his head, knocking him onto his back, moving to lay on his legs. Ethan and Matias lifted their hands, about to act.

"No, wait! Hahaha, oh my god that tickles, that's..."Fletch giggled, laying in the snow as the direwolf licked and slurped his stomach over and over again.

Marco gasped sharply as he felt the hole around his cock beginning to contract. In fact, all of Yom's body was shrinking. The dark greasy fur began to retract, pulling back into the skin. The skin began to tighten fluidly and in a well balanced way. His muscles shrank, his bones compacted and his back smoothed out, losing the rigid feeling.

Ethan and Matias slowly lowered their hands, watching the direwolf shrink more and more, dropping the pounds. He was down to four hundred, then three. The muzzle that had torn out through a mouth retracted slowly, pulling back fluidly and easily into a human face. The fur that covered his head lightened up and separated out, leaving a stubble beard and medium length hair. Even his tail pulled back in, disappearing into a human ass... an ass that Marco was now well and truly stuck inside of.

Artyom closed his eyes for several moments, panting as the fur disappeared from across his chest and back and legs. When he opened them again, they had returned to their original honey brown color. Artyom laid there, naked in the snow with Marco in his ass and Fletcher beneath him. Seeing Fletcher with his own human eyes, he began to cry and sob, burying his face against Fletch's stomach.

"I am so sorry, I am so so sorry... Please, forgive me..." Yom begged, weeping openly. Fletch sat up and reached to pet the man's head.

"I'll forgive you... And you are part of our pack now." Fletcher whispered. Yom looked up and nodded eagerly at that.

"Yes my alphas." He whispered.

"Alphas?" Ethan murmured in surprise at the plural, let alone claiming a human as an alpha. Matias grabbed onto Ethan's shoulder, tugging at it.

"We need to talk." Matias said.

"Now? There are three naked men in the snow and we don't know when the owner of this house is coming back." Ethan replied.

"Fine, we'll get them inside the car, but... It's really important." Matias said. Ethan nodded at that before they moved out.

"We hate to break up the moment, but we should get you out of the cold, get you back somewhere safe." Ethan said. Yom looked at Fletcher and then Marco. All his bravado, his playfulness was missing. He seemed vulnerable and lost and desperate.

"All three of us will go back to my place. We're calling in sick for the next two days. We're going to take a nap, then tonight we're going to cuddle and have tea and talk... How's that sound?" Marco asked.

"Perfect." Fletch said with a smile. Yom nodded in agreement, sighing with relief. With great effort Marco pulled himself out of Artyom and stood back up, letting his ears and teeth return to normal and his claws pull back in. He helped Artyom up and Yom in turn helped fletcher up. The three moved back toward Matias' Suburban parked out in front of the house. Fletch got in first, then Marco and finally Yom.

As Marco sat in the center seat, he pulled both Fletch and Artyom to him. Yom closed his eyes and snuggled up to Marco's chest, feeling exhausted and relieved. His body wasn't in pain anymore, his conscience was clear and he had finally been accepted. He closed his eyes and before the door had even been shut, he was asleep. Marco turned to look at Fletcher but Fletch just smiled and leaned in, giving Marco a gentle kiss of appreciation.

****

Ethan's dorm room was cozy and comfortable. He lived on the fourth floor of Sycamore hall, overlooking a giant oak tree. Colorful flags emblazoned with letters and symbols from dozens of countries were pinned together and taped to the ceiling, creating almost a yurt like feel as the light passed through it. The whole room had a sort of orangey red glow. Normally it was quite comforting, but Ethan and Matias were both very tense as they sat across from one another. Matias had been silent since he told Ethan what had happened, his eyes looking down at the floor. Ethan still couldn't believe what he had heard.

"You sure he said Demeas?" Ethan said finally. Matias nodded.

"That is exactly what he said." Matias replied. Ethan's shoulders sank and he leaned back. Matias cleared his throat a bit, "I've heard stories about those coming so close to death needing help back, a guiding spirit..."

"Our magic is complex and it crosses all boundaries of time and life, but Matias, do you have any idea what that means? Fletcher connected with the first alpha of the fang clan, the most brutal direwolf that ever lived. Did he say anything else?" Ethan asked. Matias looked even more disturbed.

"I... Yes, right at the end, he said 'I will give him back to you for now'." Matias said. Once more Ethan was shocked into silence. He sat there, repeating the phrase over and over again in his head. This was a situation they needed more help on. It was time to gather the keepers.