Big Bang '09 Fic Post: The Righteous Man Regardeth (Part 1)
Title: The Righteous Man Regardeth
Author Name: eleke
Beta: Ramien
Artist Name: surevesta
Genre: J2 AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, very minor Danneel/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 25646
Summary: All his life Jensen has been raised with one ultimate truth - that
werewolves are evil, and must be kept away for everyone's safety. After
a seemingly random attack one night during the full moon his life is
turned completely around and he becomes the very creature he'd been
raised to fear. Thankfully he met Jared, a man who would teach him
first hand how not to fear what he'd become, and to accept the beast
within.
Art by the crazy talented Surevesta this way.
(ETA: Oops! Fixed broken cut)
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AN: This is my first J2 fic, my first slash fic, and my first fanfiction. It wouldn't be possible without the help of Ramien poking and prodding me to write, working as a sounding board for my better ideas, and telling me in no uncertain terms what Just Doesn't Work. Thank you hun *kiss*.
And of course I have to give credit to the talented Surevesta who did the art for this fic, and the icons you see up there. I linked to her art post right under the summary, so make sure you go there!
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“The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.” - John Lennon
The hunter inhaled deeply, scenting the night air even as it practically flew down the night streets, picking through the scent-trails of hundreds of other humans, animals, and vehicles had left throughout the day for that *one.* The trail was faint and almost cold, but it had expected this. It finally arrived at a good-sized building that fairly *oozed* food-smells, a restaurant, and knew it’s prey was inside. Instead of bursting in and causing a scene, it slunk to the back alley where it wiggled between two piles of garbage and waited. While a human wouldn’t be able to tolerate the stench of human detritus for very long in the hot night, to the hunter it was redolent with a feast of smells, it could almost taste the leftover bits of chicken, beef, lamb, and that just served to whet its hunger even more.
It didn’t have to wait too long; the last of the customers were already starting to leave when it’d arrived, but it kept it’s eyes focused on the rear exit, where it knew the prey would be leaving.
Finally, the door opened and people started to spill out, tired but joking and in good spirits after a good night’s service. The hunter stood slowly, keeping to the shadows and careful not to jostle any of the bags, though the cooks and wait staff that were leaving seemed more concerned with splitting up and getting home than watching the piles of trash for any predators lying in wait.
One of the last to leave was it’s prey, the target’s scent mixed delightfully with that of the meals he cooked. He was talking to one of his coworkers, obviously a continuation of an earlier conversation.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride, Jen?” the co-worker asked, keys already in her hand. “You know it’s no problem for me to drive you home.”
Jensen, it’s prey, smiled reassuringly and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t live too far and walking gives me a chance to unwind.”
Though the hunter already knew it’s prey’s habits, it dropped his jaw in a small smile at the news. If the prey was walking, then the hunt would be a lot easier. It was a smart predator, as all of it’s kind were, and although a challenge was fun, an easy hunt was much more preferred.
The other human frowned and glanced up at the sky where the moon hung bloated full. “I guess if you want, just be careful. Okay?”
Jensen had already started to walk away, but he tossed an “I’m always careful!” over his shoulder, and then the alley was empty.
It waited another few moments just in case someone else was about to leave the building or anyone was dallying in driving away, and slipped out from it’s cover and headed out, following the steady tread of it’s prey. It kept back, so the clicking of it’s nails against the concrete wouldn’t tip off it’s prey too early.
The street they were on was too busy for the hunt, and it had to stop and hide behind a parked car occasionally when a driver passed, hiding from the headlights on this night in particular. The hunter was patient, and that patience was rewarded at long last, the prey turned down a quieter street, and the hunter knew he had it’s chance. It was the last of the three nights of the full moon that night, and it knew that if it's prey managed to escape the creature would have to wait another month to have another chance.
Putting on a burst of speed it rushed forward, but the prey was cannier than it thought - maybe it heard it’s panting breath or the tap of nails on concrete, or maybe some sixth sense not used for generations since predators like itself had become less of a threat tipped him off, but Jensen turned just in time that the fangs that were aimed at his neck imbedded themselves in his shoulder.
The prey shouted as the weight of the hunter brought him down. It dug it’s teeth in deeper, snarling, while Jensen pushed and punched at it. It yelped when Jensen landed a solid punch right on it’s nose and let go, and the prey managed to roll always and regain it’s feet, left hand clasped over right shoulder where the blood was pouring out and staining his shirt.
Predator and prey eyed each other for a long moment, Jensen looking ready to run at the slightest movement, the hunter with it’s head low and feet planted wide. Finally the hunter turned and ran off, knowing it would seem to disappear into the night to it’s prey’s weaker senses. The goal wasn’t to kill the man, but to infect him.
Perhaps Senator Alan Ackles would change his stance on regulation if his own son was a Wolf.
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St. Radegund Hospital was quiet so late at night, so Jensen felt more awkward than he thought he otherwise would sitting at the curtained-off cot in the emergency room. His bite wound, which was not as bad as he thought it would be once all the blood was washed off, was stitched and wrapped in a clean white bandage, and he was given a purple scrub shirt to replace his ruined Tee.
He was waiting on some test results, and since the animal that attacked him looked like a big dog, and it was the night of a full moon that he had gotten attacked, he had a real bad idea of what sort of results he might get.
Which was Not Good for so many reasons.
Well. A couple main reasons.
For as far back as Jensen could remember his father had been after the regulation of werewolves and other weres. Who would want their kids to be taught by someone who turned furry and killed things with their own teeth once a month, to say nothing about what could happen if an instinctively aggressive creature joined the police force?
Jensen’s views he really couldn’t say. His father didn’t really lecture to him over the dinner table about the evils of werewolves, but he still knew without a doubt his parent’s stance from small comments here and there. Watching the news and hearing about a were-something-or-other suing a former employer over unfair treatment would elicit a derisive snort and a comment about how ‘some people’ should be happy with what they’ve got.
When Jensen was younger he had felt more or less the same way. Of *course* by bowing down to let werewolves and their ilk to do whatever they want they’re undermining the foundations the country was built upon. Somehow. But as he got older he lost that certain feeling. He didn’t think that his father was speaking absolute truth, but there was just something about weres that made him uncomfortable.
Still, whenever the subject of werewolves came up he’d nod along with whatever his parents said, agree wholeheartedly, and then try to change the subject.
If his tests came back positive, he’d have to tell his father. And that? He was definitely not looking forward to. He could just see it now; all of Alan Ackles’ political opponents suddenly having something ‘good’ against him, all of his speeches picked apart and analyzed. Meanwhile, Alan would have even more of a vendetta against werewolves, his crusade given new fervor. All the while Jensen would be stuck with that curse, forgotten by his father except for when he’d be thrown up as an example and then tossed aside as a disgrace.
Damn it.
A second reason was his girlfriend. He loved Danneel; she was funny, smart, and beautiful as all hell. Jensen felt lucky that she’d even give him the time of day, never mind date him for the past two years. If it wasn’t for the fact that her acting career sent her bouncing all around the country they would have moved in together long ago, and Jensen had been seriously considering proposing for a while. He didn’t even really know her stance on werewolf rights. It was his own fault, every time the conversation came up Jensen steered the subject away. He got enough of it every time he came home, he didn’t want to rehash the same subjects with his girlfriend. That, he could blame himself for, but suddenly he wished he knew if she’d be fine with him being furry every month or if she’d run screaming.
His depressed musings were cut short by the curtain being pushed aside, and the doctor he'd seen when he first entered came in. She carried a manila folder and a clipboard in one hand and took a seat at a stool next to the bed. “I'm sorry for the wait," she said. "Normally test results take even longer, but we're having a comparatively slow night and was able to get them done faster than usual."
Jensen shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying not to let the sudden spike of nerves influence his voice.
"We do have some news we have to discuss, Jensen,” Dr. Cortese said, her voice gentling..
Through the cold feeling in his gut and clenching in his heart, Jensen replied quietly, “That’s not really all that reassuring, doc.”
“I don’t want to sugarcoat things,” she said, scanning the paper fastened to the clip board. “What I have to tell you is going to cause some massive changes in your life. Jensen, the animal that attacked you was a Therianthrope, a werewolf if you will, and infected you. Judging by the size and shape of the teeth marks, it’s a safe bet to assume Wolf, rather than Coyote or Fox.”
Following her announcement was a deep silence until Jensen let out a whoosh of air in a heavy sigh, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.
“I kinda expected it, to be honest,” he said. “It being a full moon tonight and everything. Can’t say I like it, though.” Understatement of the year, Jensen thought, and winced.
“I know this is a big change,” Dr. Cortese said softly. “And this is why I have some paperwork for you to look at when you get home. With it is the name and phone number for someone you can get a hold of to talk with you. His name is Jared Padalecki - he's also a Therianthrope, a Wolf to be exact. Both of his parents were, so he'd been born as one, and is as much of an expert of Therianthropy as anyone else in the area. Both he and the paperwork you have will be able to help prepare you for next month, when you'll shift for the first time."
She handed the folder over as she talked, and Jensen leafed through the pages while listening to her voice drone in the background. There were diagrams of different types of weres, he saw. Mostly Wolves were shown, but a few others like a Tiger, a White tailed Deer, and a Fox, with differences between those and natural, feral animals. One bolded section of text caught his eye and he paused.
"Wait," he said, one finger pointing at the text. "It says here that I can be charged with endangerment if I don't tell any 'sexual partners' about being a werewolf. What the hell does that mean?"
Dr. Cortese paused for a moment before saying, "Therianthropy can be passed along several ways, and one of them is through sexual intercourse. Technically speaking, it can be considered an STD."
"Yeah," Jensen said, exasperated. "But you don't go to fucking jail if you give your girl friend herpes!"
"Current laws make a distinction between the two," she replied. "If you move to another state it might be a different story, but here you can face jail time if you pass it on."
Jensen covered his face with his hands and leaned back until his back thumped against the wall. These were the sort of things his family had been fighting to make more strict for years, and just then he felt just how embarrassing and invasive those measures were… and he’d just been officially a werewolf for only a few minutes.
Dropping his hands to his lap, Jensen looked at Dr. Cortese who was watching him back, eyes kind and patient. “So what does this Padaleki guy do exactly? Tell me the right ways to mark my territory, the proper pitch to howl at the moon with?”
Cortese's lips curved into a smile, bringing out dimples at either side of her mouth, and replied, “Like I said, he's a born Lycanthrope and have studied Therianthropy for years. Basically, if you have any questions at all, he'll have your answers. To my knowledge he's helped three others in the past leading up to their first transformation, and they’re all living full, happy lives. In all honesty,” she continued. “Though the numbers of accidental infections have gone down a *lot* in past years, you’re still in good hands.”
“Wait,” Jensen said, putting a hand up to cut Cortese off, who looked like he was starting in on a good spiel. “What do you mean ’accidental?’ It wasn’t like I tripped and landed my shoulder in a fuckin’ wolf’s open mouth! I was attacked. And now you are saying I’m going to be this, this *thing* every month because of it.”
Cortese was quiet for a minute or two before she said softly, "They're not all like that, Jensen. I know Jared personally, and there’s not a single other Therian that I know who would purposely attack a human in anything but self-defense.”
Jensen sighed, suddenly weary. “Whatever, fine. Can I call him later? I just need to rest on this for a while, alright? Wrap my head around this or something."
“Please don’t wait too long,” she said. “You wont show too many obvious signs of Lycanthropy until your first full moon a month from now, but it’s good to be prepared just in case.”
Yeah, Jensen thought. But nothing you say can prepare me to tell my dad and girlfriend that I’m a freakin’ werewolf.
“One more thing, Jensen,” Dr. Cortese spoke up. “Because this was a Therian attack I had to inform the cops, and an officer will be over soon to speak with you about the Wolf that attacked you.”
Jensen groaned. A long night was becoming even longer.
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When Jensen woke up several hours later it was to a shoulder that only mildly twinged, a headache, and the painful realization that he had to tell his parents what happened.
Putting the last aside for the moment, he headed to the bathroom to begin his morning (or very early afternoon, in his case) ablutions. He had just brushed his teeth and had started the shower going when he realized that his shoulder not only didn’t hurt badly, it didn’t hurt at *all.*
Gingerly unwrapping the dressing around his shoulder with his left hand, he watched as his own eyes grew wide and round in the bathroom mirror when, instead of the mangled, bruised mess his shoulder was in yesterday, all there was under the bandages was smooth skin, tiny threads of stitches still clinging to his flesh but falling away as he plucked them off. He could see tiny pockmarked scars where the werewolf had bitten down and tore, but where he’d expected a still-fresh wound instead looked months old, only the tiniest bit tender when he prodded around the joint.
This… is freaky. he thought. Academically, he knew that werewolves healed much faster than humans, but the rate and extent of the healing astounded him. He remembered a story where a were had gotten shot by a cop in some forgettably-named town in Georgia and managed to get back up and gore the deputy before backup could arrive, and at that moment he understood just how it had survived the gunshot. (Of course he remembered the story, it was a favorite at the Ackles’ kitchen table for months. It only fell out of being the main topic of conversation when a were-cougar was caught having an affair with one of his students, also a were. After that incident many states, including Jensen’s, made it a law barring weres from teaching positions.) Even though he was not 'fully' a werewolf and didn't have the full capabilities of one yet, he managed to totally heal a bad shoulder wound in mere hours.
However, the shoulder healing did more than just surprise him at just how fast a werewolf could heal, but also had more dire implications - that he really *was* a werewolf. At that first sign of his infection he knew in a distant sort of way that his life would be permanently changed, but that fact hadn’t really penetrated his brain until that moment in his bathroom.
With a hand that only shook a little, he turned the water off in his shower, burrowed back under his covers, and tried to sleep for another couple hours.
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Jared hit the speed dial on his cell phone as he leaned back in his padded computer chair, looking at the document he was typing as he listened to the ring on the other end. It was a couple hours until noon and usually Jeff was up by then after the full moon. Sure enough, after a couple rings, he heard a gruff “’Lo? What can I do for you, Jared?”
“I got some news,” Jared said. “But how did things go last night?”
“’Bout the same as always,” Jeff said. “We missed you these past couple-a days.”
Jared grinned at the slight reproach in Jeff’s voice. “You know I’d be there if I could,” he said. “But the deadline for this thing is coming up and my editor is breathing down my neck.”
“Ah, excuses. Anyway,” Jeff’s voice lost it’s lighter tone and turned more serious. “You wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important. What news?”
Jared frowned as he matched the same tone Jeff did, even though he wasn’t aware he was doing it. Jeff had that kind of influence, influencing others subtly, and without seeming aware he was even doing it. Just one of the reasons why he was such an effective Alpha.
“Someone got bit last night,” Jared said.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. But that’s not even the worst part is who got bit. Ackle’s kid. Gen called me up last night and told me what she could. Apparently he was a bit shaken, but doesn‘t seem much like his old man, at least as far as she could tell.”
“God damn it,” Jeff cursed, and Jared could hear over the phone as the older man moved around, probably pacing by the sound of it. “This is not going to help us.” There was a brief pause and then Jeff asked, “What do you think we should do.”
Jared rolled his eyes. Another test. Of course. If Jared knew Jeff (and he did) he knew that behind that enquiring tone he'd had at least a couple possible paths they could take to clean the mess they've currently found themselves in, but wanted to hear Jared's plan first. “Ackles’ shirt got pretty tore up when he fought back, so the scent of the Wolf is bound to be all over it. Gen managed to snag a bit from the hospital, so I left a message for Misha to get a hold of me when he wakes up. He's got one of the better noses of us, so even if the scent isn’t familiar, we can try to track it down to whatever Wolf did it.”
“And after that?” Jeff asked.
“We can either bring him in, or…” Jared paused. Though Therians weren’t nearly as bad as some members of the media portray them, there were still some parts of Wolf culture in particular that were not talked about, and the less the general public knew about those aspects the better. They made Jared uncomfortable at times, even as he saw the use. They couldn’t have a Wolf randomly - or, considering the target of the attack, not-so randomly - attacking humans and turning them.
“…Or…?” Jeff prompted, and Jared silently cursed the man for making him say it.
“Or we deal with it like Wolves.”
“Like Wolves,” Jeff agreed softly. “Alright, when Misha drags himself out of his tent I’ll make sure he calls. Are you going to talk with Ackles Junior?”
“His name is Jensen,” Jared said, feeling a little protective of the man. He had a bleeding heart, Jared knew. Jared never saw him, but after Gen called him he'd looked the Ackle's family up, and knew what the younger son looked like. Jared could imagine him, shaking and pale in that hospital room and his heart clenched. “And I hope so. Gen gave him my number, and it’ll be good for him talking with someone who knows about being a Therian first hand, instead of going to a camp or something.”
Jensen wouldn’t be the first person Jared advised. Though he had a decently-paying job, in the past he’s offered his service guiding new Therians through their first change. There were three before Jensen.
The first was an EMT who’d gotten bit trying to help a delirious Wolf. The Wolf had liked to run during the full moon in a large park, and one of the people who lived next to the park wasn’t too comfortable raising kids in an area a Wolf liked to hang out. So one night he shot the Wolf as she crossed the property in her fur with a silver bullet (technically illegal, but easy enough to find if a person knew where to look). Delirious and in agony from silver poisoning, she managed to limp away and shift back to her skin before the EMT arrived, and no one knew until afterwards that she was a Therian.
The second was a high schooler whose boyfriend was a Fox, and in a fit of romantic delirium decided that if they were both Therians they’d have a bond to keep them together forever. Almost a week to the next full moon, they’d broken up, and Jared was left to explain to her what to expect and to guide her through her first shift. He’d barely managed to keep her parents from suing the boyfriend.
The third was an attack on another. There was an argument between two men over a parking space of all things, and one of the men, a Therian, shifted into his fur to attack the other, who barely managed to escape with his life. That case was brought to national attention and touted as another example of “Werewolf aggression,” but Jared personally felt that if one person really wanted to hurt another, they would use any weapon at hand. That was just one case where the aggressor just used himself.
“Knowing his daddy, do you think he has a choice?” Jeff asked, bringing Jared’s attention back into the present.
“I hope so,” Jared said, sighing.
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Jensen looked around the kitchen, trying to find his boss. He’d managed to crawl out of bed barely in enough time to finally take his shower and finish up getting dressed before heading to work early, and he arrived earlier than usual to tell his boss, Frank, about his apparent new life.
Jensen found him in one of the big walk-in freezers taking inventory. Jensen rapped his knuckles at the side to get his attention, and Frank looked up in surprise to see him standing there.
“Hey, Jen,” he greeted. “You’re here early.”
Jensen nodded at the obvious, and did his best to keep his face blank, to not show how his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. He had a good job here, and his boss was going to be the first person he’d tell about being a werewolf.
Apparently he wasn’t hiding his anxiety enough, because Frank lost his smile after a moment when Jensen didn’t respond and started to head out of the cooler. “How about we talk in my office?” Jensen followed submissively, and once they got to his crowded office he perched on the edge of the chair, elbows on knees.
Frank waited patiently behind his desk for a while, letting Jensen put his thoughts together. When Jensen finally let out of gusting sigh and leaned back, he said softly, “Can you tell me what the occasion is?”
Jensen barked out a quiet laugh, and said, “Remember how I walk home most nights?” When Frank nodded, he continued. “I got attacked last night.”
Frank’s eyes grew wide. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he said. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” Jensen said, then winced. “Well, sort of. It was a fuckin’ werewolf that attacked me.”
Frank sat back with a sigh. “Fuck, kid. Did you get infected?”
Jensen nodded.
“Fuck.” Frank said again, and then a little louder, “Fuck. I don’t want to get rid of you, but -”
“Wait,” Jensen interrupted. “Wait, what are you talking about? ‘Get rid of me?’ Are you firing me?” He couldn’t sit still any more. He jumped to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his hair.
“Calm down, Jensen!” Frank said, rising to his own feet as well. “I have to, you know that. If you get a cut and touch something and someone eats it, the restaurant will have a law suit so fast my head will spin.”
Jensen looked at Frank incredulously. “I’m not going to bleed all over a tiramisu and serve it to someone!”
“I know that,” Frank said, obviously trying to keep his voice calm. “I know you wouldn’t do something like that, but if it gets out I have a werewolf on my staff it's be the death of the place.”
Jensen didn’t easily lose his temper, but he almost did there. He was becoming something he’d been raised to hate, and because of that he lost his job. For absolutely nothing he did, other than choosing to walk home rather than accept a ride, his life was getting twisted on end. And not only that…
“So I’m screwed, then, right?” he said, wanting to thump his head against a wall a few times. Wanting to lose this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Hey, it doesn’t matter that I went to school and put a shit-load of money down so I can be a professional chef, or that I've worked here for years, I get bit by the wrong dog and it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Jensen.” Frank said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “So am I.” Then he turned around and left, passing the few of his ex-co-workers who’d started to trickle in, giving him curious looks that he ignored.
The day was remarkably sunny and cheerful for such an emotionally bad one, Jensen thought as he walked home along the path the night before. He didn’t know what to do. He just lost his job, the one he worked his ass off to get. He had bills to pay, an apartment to pay for, a life to live. He should probably start looking for a job right away, but where? His entire work history was in kitchens; first washing dishes as a kid and through college, then as a chef in a couple Mom ‘n Pop diners, and a couple not-too-shabby restaurants before finally landing his most recent job. If he couldn’t work in a kitchen on the off chance he would ‘infect’ somebody, where did that leave him?
You can start by not being so god-damn depressed, he chastised himself as he got into the elevator leading to his apartment. He’ll figure out something, he knew. It was just the ‘figuring out’ part that would be the trick.
He frowned as he remembered the guy Dr. Cortese recommended him to, Jared Padalecki. She said he’d help, even if Jensen really didn’t want to hear it at the time.
At that time, however, he really just wanted someone to talk to. And anyway, if anyone knew what places that'd hire a werewolf, it had to be him. Maybe he’d have an idea of where he could go, who he could talk to for help. Someone out there has got to be hiring werewolves.
He flipped open the manila folder Cortese had given him the night before that he still hadn't had a chance to go over and pulled out the card stapled to one cover, pulled out his cell, and dialed the number before he could change his mind. He remained resolute while dialing, and while the phone was ringing, but when he heard a voice on the other end greet him with a cheery, “City Morgue, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em,” he barked out a laugh and forgot all about being nervous or afraid.
“What?” he laughed.
“Oh, sorry, thought you were someone else,” Jared replied, and Jensen thought he could hear a note of embarrassment in his voice. “Speaking of, can I ask who’s calling?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jensen said. “This is Jensen. Jensen Ackles. My doctor, um. Dr. Cortese, she said to call you. I uh, I got bit.” He closed his eyes and cursed himself for sounding like an utter idiot over the phone.
“Ah, yeah. Gen told me you might be calling,” Jared said. His voice a bit quieter, more soothing, he asked, “How’re you doing?”
“Fine, I guess. Everything’s fine.” Jensen lied. Then, at the prompting silence at the other end he sighed. “No, everything’s not fine. I just got back from getting fired from my job. Apparently, it’s a faux pas or something to have a werewolf work in a kitchen.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jared said, and what was worse was that Jared really did seem sorry. Sorry that Jensen had this whole new life dumped on him, making him go through this major change that he wasn’t anywhere near ready for.
“Yeah,” Jensen replied.
There was a long silence on both of their parts before Jared said, “Hey, are you busy doing anything for an hour or two? I'm about to get a coffee and maybe it'll be easier if we talk face-to-face.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said again. “That’d be great.”
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The place they decided to meet up at was a little too far for Jensen to walk, and even though the price of gas and his pitiful savings were in the back of his mind, damn it, it was just too far. When he arrived at the coffee shop, he was glad to see that it wasn't exactly busy, so finding Jared wouldn't be too difficult. The problem was that none of the people sitting at the tables exactly screamed 'werewolf' to him.
As he stood a little indecisively he saw as one of the patrons, a tall lanky man with shaggy hair sitting over by a window, spot him and start waving him over. Thinking that he could be the one Jensen was looking for, Jensen headed over. The tall guy stood as Jensen approached and stuck out his hand to be shook. "Jensen, I assume?" the guy asked, and Jensen nodded.
A grin split the guy's face, showing off perfect rows of almost too-white teeth. "Great! I'm Jared Padelecki, but just call me Jared. I'm your local werewolf expert extraordinaire." He gestured to one of the empty seats. "Go ahead and have a seat. Let's talk."
‘Goof’ Jensen thought, not unkindly. But when he slid into the seat across from the table Jared was at, his nerves returned and he had to hide his hands under the table before Jared saw how much they were shaking.
If Jared had noticed his nervousness anyway, he didn’t give any indication when he gave the coffee he was holding a little lift and grinned. “This place sells some good stuff, I really recommend it,” he said.
“I’ll pass for now,” Jensen replied, but what he really meant was, ‘I’m so nervous that I’m afraid to walk again in case my legs can’t hold me. I’m scared out of my mind about what I’m going to turn into and what’s going to happen in my life, and I really don’t think sitting here drinking coffee is going to make any difference.’
Jensen liked the shorter version better.
Jared shrugged, not looking too concerned, and they sat for a moment, just people-watching. Slowly Jensen started to relax.
Eventually, though, the quiet started to grate on him. It felt like Jared was waiting for him to make the first move, to be the first to reach out, and finally Jensen blurted out, “What’s it like?”
Jared looked bemused. “What, the coffee?”
“No,” Jensen said tightly. “What’s it like being a werewolf?”
Jared sighed, and said, “I can pretty much ask you what it’s like being a human. I was born this way, even if I didn’t start shifting until I was thirteen. Do you mean what it’s like being in my fur?”
Jensen blinked a couple times, “Being in your…fur?”
Jared made a rolling motion with the hand that wasn’t holding the coffee. “You know, being furry. As a Wolf, in my fur. Also, I‘d watch the whole ‘werewolf‘ thing. There‘s more than just Wolves out there, though according to Hollywood we‘re the only kind that matters, and some get pretty offended at the term. The general catch-all word is Therianthrope, or Therian.”
“Ah.” Jensen said. He’d heard the term before, but didn’t really think about it too much. Everyone he knew just said ‘werewolf’ and meant the whole lot of them, so he did likewise.
“Anyway, it’s amazing, Jensen,” Jared said, giving Jensen another one of those blindingly white grins and leaning forward, like a little boy telling someone about his favorite video game or cartoon. “You can smell things you’ve never dreamed about, and hear *so* much better than you ever can in your skin,” Jensen didn’t need an explanation for that one. “Plus when you start running, just feeling the wind rush by and feeling the joy of just *running*, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Every Therian I know looks forward to the full moon.”
Jensen looked down at his hands, which at that point were fiddling with a candle that was on the table. Listening to Jared describe how good it was being a werewolf, he didn’t want to see his expression when Jensen asked, “Is it worth it, though?”
“Worth what?”
“I just got fired from my job,” Jensen said. “I’m a pastry chef, and worked at the same place for a few years, and I just got fired because I got bit. Plus there's some laws out there that seriously have me scared. Do you know in California a bill has been proposed to allow full disclosure of any werewolf's medical history without a warrant? Um. Therian, I mean. Anyway, I know you can see where I’m going with this, right? Is it worth all this hassle?”
Jared was quiet for a minute, apparently thinking it over. When he finally responded he spoke slowly, thinking over everything just as he said it. “Honestly, there’s a lot of things that kind of suck about being a Therian. Jobs are rare, and even then there are a lot of employers that just don’t understand, and treat us like second-class citizens. But you know what? Even with all that, for those three nights of the full moon? Yeah, it’s worth it.”
Jensen didn't know whether or not he understood. How can just being able to run around on all fours be worth all that?
“Seriously, man,” Jared said. “All most Therians want is to just be left alone. They aren’t vicious killers out to turn anyone that they don’t eat.”
“The Scourge,” Jensen blurted, almost absentmindedly but immediately wanted to take it back when Jared winced. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “There was that. That’s a dark time in our history, dude, and no one looks back on that too happily.”
The Scourge was one of the main reasons why Wolves were so much more populous than other kinds of Therians. Back some time in the medieval ages a big pack of Wolves decided that the best way for them to gain power over humans was to turn as many as they could. Once there were enough Wolves in the world, or at least in their lands, they’d be able to take down whole empires. Or something stupid like that. So what they did was each night of the Full Moon they’d sneak into a village or town, staying away from the better defended areas and keeps, and bite as many people as they could.
Eventually the pack was hunted down and most of the original members slain, but the damage was done. The number of the infected numbered in the hundreds, and most sources say that was the event that made Therians in Europe and eventually the Americas Public Enemy #1.
It was a ridiculous plan that was doomed from the start - all that would happen, and did happen, was instead of making werewolves something to be respected and feared, they ended up being hunted and feared.
“Yeah,” Jensen repeated, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Jared shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, it’s ancient history.”
“I gotta say one last thing, though,” Jensen said after a brief silence.
“Yeah?”
Jensen looked up and gave Jared a wry smile. “I’m really not this emo normally.”
His weak attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work when Jared barked out a laugh. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said, grinning and pushing his chair back so he could stand. “I’m going to get myself something to drink, and then we’re going to have the most *non* emo conversation ever.”
“Ever huh?” Jared teased. “That’s going to take an effort.”
“You’re on,” Jensen said, heading to the counter.
---------------------------------------------------------
Two days later, there was still no lead on the Wolf that bit Jensen. Misha’d done his best to track it, managed to determine the wolf was an adult male that had some sickness that made it's scent sour, but nothing beyond that. The trail had gone cold and Jensen’s shirt, their only lead, was passed around to others to remember the scent in case they ever encountered the Wolf again. The cops were no help either: they did their best to keep Jensen’s identity a secret, and so far there were no reporters knocking on his door or anything, so he supposed they weren’t doing to bad at that. However, other than asking around and taking some samples from the area of the attack and saliva samples that had been found on his clothes, they also didn’t have any idea who’d done the attack yet. Whatever Wolf bit him, it didn’t have a criminal history. They were still looking into the attack, but until more evidence comes up, there wasn’t anything more they could do.
Meanwhile, both days were spent with Jared and Jensen hanging out. Jensen continued the job hunt during the day, avoiding speaking of his lycanthropic condition to either of his parents nor Danneel with a certain sort of avoidance that comes from trying to pretend for the sake of others that nothing has changed. During their occasional phone call he did his best not to blurt out the whole messy affair
Of course, avoiding an issue only works for so long, and it was only a matter of time until he was forced to come clean.
He’d come home from another failed excursion in filling out applications at just about any place that’d hand them out, no longer trying to be picky and just going for just a job, any job, until he could find something better. He didn’t notice Danneel’s car parked outside at the curb, but when he went to take his shoes off inside his apartment door and saw a pair of sleek white pumps that weren’t there before he felt his heart give a lurch in his chest and his palms grow sweaty.
“Jen?” He heard coming from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, stammering just a little. He cleared his throat and toed off his shoes, kicking them to the side before turning the corner to the kitchen. There was Danneel; beautiful, witty Danneel, who was taking some produce out of some white grocery bags and sticking them in his fridge.
He wasn’t prepared for this, for her. He braced himself with one hand against the doorway as she put away a small bag of grapes and headed towards him, a small, welcoming smile on her face.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.
“Feeding you, apparently,” she said, lowering one hand long enough to poke him in his belly. “I got here earlier and you had nothing in your fridge but condiments and some questionable bologna. I thought chefs are supposed to actually know how to feed themselves.”
As she spoke she started tugging on the back of his neck, lowering his face closer to hers, and her kiss was a period. He kept his lips pressed against hers, eyes closed and just breathed her in: inhaling her smell, the scent of her perfume, deodorant, soap, shampoo, and beneath all that her own unique scent. He pulled away just enough so he could lower his face to her neck, nuzzling her skin and inhaling more of her personal scent, snuffling behind her ear where the smell was strongest.
He missed her, this tiny woman of whom he could span the entire span of her hips with his hands. She was gone for too long, off shooting her TV show and left him behind to face getting turned by some random attack. But she was back, and, *God* she smelled so good. And she tasted better, he found, as he started to kiss and lick at her neck and jaw, ducking his head an almost uncomfortable amount to reach. He ran his teeth down the tendon in her neck, and except for a moment of ‘yuck, perfume, bitter’ her skin tasted sweet and clean with a tang of sweat from the warm day outside. His cock was hard in his pants, and he pressed his hips against hers, grinding his erection into her and hissing at the delicious pressure.
“Jensen,” he heard, dimly. He growled softly at the interfering noise, and nosed the skinny strap of Danneel's dress to the side so he could kiss and suck along more along her shoulder, more skin bared to his teeth, his mouth. She was *his* girlfriend, and had no right to run off like that and leave him alone. He growled again, about to sink his teeth in, make her his own. “Jensen, stop. *Stop.*” Suddenly that golden span of skin disappeared and his head wrenched to the side.
Jensen found that bit of skin again with his eyes, and was about to step forward when he caught sight of Danneel's face, and realization about just how he was acting, what he was feeling slapped him across the face.
Danneel had backed up a couple steps so that she wasn’t pinned against the doorway anymore, staring at Jensen with wide eyes. He felt over-warm and sweaty, and small tremors raced through his body. He still wanted her under his hands, he had the taste of her in his mouth and her scent in his nose, and he still *wanted* her.
But the *way* he wanted her… *God,* he never felt like that before. He didn’t just want her, he wanted to *own* her, he wanted to *turn* her. He felt the blood drain from his face, and he turned away. He felt like throwing up; there was a heavy weight in his belly, shame and disgust in himself. And worry. He never wanted to just own her like that, so it had to have something to do with his being infected. Jared acted like being a Wolf was the best thing since candy, but that? That was just scary.
“Jensen, are you okay?” Danneel asked, and Jensen had to almost rip his eyes off of her neck (was that a hickey forming there? God!) to focus on her face. Her slender eyebrows were raised in concern, but with a little furrow of confusion between them. “What’s wrong? What’s with you?”
Jensen felt sick. After nearly *attacking* her like that she was still concerned about him. Jensen stumbled on legs that felt like Jell-o to the kitchen table and collapsed into one of the chairs, head in his hands.
He could hear her soft footsteps as she came closer, but refused to look up at her, just in case that… that *craziness* took him over again.
“Jensen, baby, you’re really starting to worry me here,” Danneel said, and Jensen could hear the worry in the quaver in her voice. He caught a glance of movement between his fingers, and when he lowered his hands Danneel was crouched next to his chair, one hand on his chair. She was looking up at him with big liquid eyes framed in dark lashes.
He felt that possessiveness again rising up, wanted to take and own. His dick twitched in his pants.
Jensen shot to his feet so fast that his chair fell back with a clatter like a gunshot and was at the other side of the room in an instant. He pressed himself against the sink counter, hands braced on either side. As much as he wanted to turn away, he kept his eyes on Danneel; the better to make sure she didn’t get too close until he got this *whatever* controlled.
“Jensen, seriously, what’s your problem?” Danneel said, rising to her feet, one hand on her hip. A bit of irritation seeped into her voice by then, and Jensen swallowed a couple times before he could speak.
“Danneel, I got something I need to tell you,” he said. After that he hesitated, unsure about what to say next, how to break the news.
Danneel snorted indelicately. “I’m sure,” she said. “You’re freaking out over *something*, obviously.”
Jensen swallowed again. His twisting belly hurting so bad he pressed a hand to his gut. “It’s kinda important.”
“I’m sure.”
“…Maybe you should sit down?”
“Jensen!”
“Alright, alright,” he sighed. He took a deep breath and stared at a discolored spot on his otherwise clean ceiling. “The other night I got bit by a werewolf. Therian. That.”
Danneel was quiet for so long that Jensen started to fidget, still refusing to look at her. Still, he could hear her as she pulled out another chair and sat heavily.
“How long ago?” she finally asked. Jensen glanced up to see her staring at the kitchen table, hands in her lap.
“About three days,” Jensen said, barely louder than a whisper. She apparently heard because she nodded, still not facing him.
There was another long silence until Jensen cleared his throat and asked, “Is it… is it okay? I mean, will this be a problem?”
“’Will this be a problem?’” she echoed, and Jensen winced at the bitterness in her voice. “A *problem,* Jensen? What do you think?” She looked up, and Jensen gulped at the tears running down her face. “Oh, my *God,* you’re a werewolf!”
“It’s not that big of deal,” Jensen said weakly in the face of her irritation. “I’ve been talking to a guy, and he says that a lot of werewolves - Therians,” he corrected himself. “Have fully human spouses and have no problem.”
“We’re going to have a problem!” she said, nearly yelling. “What about sex, Jensen? I don’t *want* to be a werewolf, too!”
“We can use condoms,” Jensen said, feeling sick.
“Condoms break,” she said. “And what about kids? I *know* you were wanting to have a family one day, do you really want have your kids be, be that?” she finished with a flailing hand gesture, apparently indicating Jensen’s Therian-ness.
“We can adopt,” Jensen said, starting to feel desperate. “C’mon, baby, we can figure something out, right?” He ignored the little voice at the back of his mind saying, ‘do you really want to stay together? Remember what happened only a few minutes ago, how you attacked her?’
“I don’t think so, Jensen,” she said. What’s worse, she sounded honestly upset, her voice hitching and tears still streaming down her face. “Do you know how easily you can infect me, how easily…” he voice trailed off, and her eyes grew wide as her hand flew to her throat.
“I didn’t break skin,” Jensen said quickly, but Danneel wasn’t listening as she nearly ran out of the kitchen to get to the bathroom. Jensen followed more slowly and listened as the sink turned on, and he entered the bathroom to see her scrubbing at her neck with a towel. Between the hot water and the force of her scrubbing her skin was turning a bright red.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling his own eyes well up embarrassingly.
Danneel wasn’t listening though, and she threw the hand towel down into the sink and wrenched the faucet closed. Head ducked, apparently so she wouldn’t look him in the face, she pushed passed Jensen and headed down the hallway, to the door.
“I’m so sorry, Danneel, please,” he begged, not even sure what he was begging her for. Forgiveness? For her to stay?
Danneel didn’t even bother putting her shoes back on, just picked them up with one hand and opened the door with the other. As she closed the door behind her, Jensen heard her parting comment:
“So am I.”
--------------------------------
Jensen fumbled at his ringing cell phone, staring blankly at the screen for a long moment before the name finally penetrated his brain. Sinking deeper into his couch cushions, he flipped open the phone and raised it to his ear.
“H’lo?” he grumbled, watching the bikini-clad model on the TV talk about Spring Break (barely audible over the hoots and shouts of the partying crowd behind her) with a sort of distant fascination.
“Jen, it’s me, Jared,” came the voice over the phone. “Good news, I managed to find someone willing to hire you. It’s just at s warehouse and loading crates and stuff, but it’s something until you find a better job.”
“Great, great,” Jensen said. At the back of his mind he knew that it was good mood, but he was just too depressed to even care at that moment. “I ‘ppreciate Jared, I do.”
“…Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you drunk?”
Jensen glanced at the fifth he still had loosely clasped in one hand and shrugged, even though he knew Jared couldn’t see it over the phone. “A little, yeah.”
Jared chuckled, his voice warm over the phone. “Partying without me, man? What’s the occasion?”
Jensen snorted. “No party, man. Danneel just broke up with me.”
“Ah, shit,” Jared said. “I’m sorry about that. Hey, you want me to come over? Drunken wallowing is more fun when there’s two people.”
Jensen made a rude noise and said, “Whatever, man. Just… do whatever you want. Bring more booze, ‘cause you‘re not drinking mine.”
Jared laughed again, but even drunk Jensen could tell it was forced. “Stingy bastard. Alright, I’ll be over in a few. Don’t pass out yet, though: I’ll need you to buzz me in.”
Jensen flipped the phone shut and dropped it, not caring where it landed, took another sip of his cheap whiskey, and zoned out for a long moment. It wasn’t too long until he heard the ring signaling someone at his door, and he stood up, took a few moments to relearn how to stand upright, and stumbled over to the button on the wall and buzzed Jared in. He was still leaning on the button when a large hand gently grasped his own and lifted it off the switch.
“Jesus, Jen,” Jared said softly, holding Jensen’s shoulders (and truthfully was the *only* thing holding him up at that point) and giving him a look over. “You’re not drunk, you’re pissed.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jensen said. He tried to push Jared to the side so he could head back to his very comfortable couch, but as soon as Jared took his hands off of him he started listing to the side. Thankfully Jared caught him and guided him over to the couch himself. “It’s not fair,” he said as soon at his rump hit cushion.
“What isn’t, this crap you’ve bought?” Jared asked, giving the bottle of Banker’s Jensen had been drinking from. He gave it a wary sniff and made a face.
“Shuddup, it’s cheap and it gets me drunk.” Jensen sighed and let his head fall back against the top of the couch. “No. Wait. It’s fair. It’s completely fair and I’m just being a fucking pussy about it. I should’ve known better and just… hid or something.”
“Jensen, you’re not really making a whole lot of sense here, buddy. What‘s not fair?” Jared said, setting the fifth down on the coffee table with just a slight thunk.
“Danneel, man. She broke up with me. Did you know that?”
He could see Jared nod at his periphery. “Yeah, you told me on the phone, remember?”
Jensen tried to nod, but with his head still tipped against the back of the couch it just made him feel a little dizzy. “Yeah, guess so. But I can’t blame her, y’see? It’s totally fair. Completely fair. Ab-so-fucking-lutely fair. Especially after I fuckin’… *attacked* her. God!” He squeezed his eyes closed, trying not to let the tears he could feel welling up out, but he could still feel them squeeze out.
Jared was completely still beside him for a moment, just breathing. After a while he rose to his feet, and clapped his hands together once loud enough to make Jensen jump. “Alright,” he said. “I think what we need to do is get you to bed so you can sleep off this drunk. Then when you sober up a bit you can tell me what you’re talking about, okay?”
“It’s eight o’clock,” Jensen said, not even caring that it came out sounding like a petulant five year-old.
“And you’re shitfaced, which is why you’re going to bed,” Jared said, hauling on Jensen until he stood. Jensen stumbled forward when his head seemed to suddenly gain about a hundred pounds, but Jared was once more able to catch him, Jensen just tipping before Jared was able to catch him; a warm solid wall being gentle enough it made Jensen’s eyes burn with tears he was definitely *not* going to shed.
Jensen leaned close and rubbed one hand across Jared’s shoulder, gruffly affectionate. “You’re a good guy, Jared,” he said, voice wet.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jared replied distantly, propelling Jensen across the floor.
“No really,” Jensen said, really *needing* Jared to know that. “Really. You’re a great guy. Nicest werewolf I’ve ever known. Nicest werewolf in the world, prob‘ley.”
Jared snorted as he pushed the bedroom door open with one arm, Jensen tucked under the other. “Aren’t I the only werewolf you’ve ever known?”
He had to think about it for a moment, long enough for Jared to set him down on the bed. “Yeah, I think so. Personallally, anyway.”
“There we go, then,” Jared said, pushing at Jensen’s chest with a steady pressure until he got the message and lay back against his pillow. “You don’t know a whole lot of Therians 'personallally,' so there’s no way for you to know I’m the nicest one in the whole world.”
Jensen grunted his assent - he didn’t really care one way or the other - but when Jared started to pull away, Jensen grabbed his hand. He turned on his side and pulled Jared’s big hand close, holding it with both of his own hands and met Jared’s eyes.
“I’m glad you’re the first werewolf I ever met, Jared,” he said.
Jared smiled and used his free hand to gently extract the other from Jensen’s grasp, but instead of pulling away he knelt at the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through Jensen’s hair, scratching lightly, and smiled. “Go to sleep Jensen,” he advised. “We’ll talk in the morning.” With that, he stood up, turned off the bedroom light, and closed the door.
Part 2
Author Name: eleke
Beta: Ramien
Artist Name: surevesta
Genre: J2 AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, very minor Danneel/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 25646
Summary: All his life Jensen has been raised with one ultimate truth - that
werewolves are evil, and must be kept away for everyone's safety. After
a seemingly random attack one night during the full moon his life is
turned completely around and he becomes the very creature he'd been
raised to fear. Thankfully he met Jared, a man who would teach him
first hand how not to fear what he'd become, and to accept the beast
within.
Art by the crazy talented Surevesta this way.
(ETA: Oops! Fixed broken cut)
--------------------------------------------
AN: This is my first J2 fic, my first slash fic, and my first fanfiction. It wouldn't be possible without the help of Ramien poking and prodding me to write, working as a sounding board for my better ideas, and telling me in no uncertain terms what Just Doesn't Work. Thank you hun *kiss*.
And of course I have to give credit to the talented Surevesta who did the art for this fic, and the icons you see up there. I linked to her art post right under the summary, so make sure you go there!
--------------------------------------------
“The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.” - John Lennon
The hunter inhaled deeply, scenting the night air even as it practically flew down the night streets, picking through the scent-trails of hundreds of other humans, animals, and vehicles had left throughout the day for that *one.* The trail was faint and almost cold, but it had expected this. It finally arrived at a good-sized building that fairly *oozed* food-smells, a restaurant, and knew it’s prey was inside. Instead of bursting in and causing a scene, it slunk to the back alley where it wiggled between two piles of garbage and waited. While a human wouldn’t be able to tolerate the stench of human detritus for very long in the hot night, to the hunter it was redolent with a feast of smells, it could almost taste the leftover bits of chicken, beef, lamb, and that just served to whet its hunger even more.
It didn’t have to wait too long; the last of the customers were already starting to leave when it’d arrived, but it kept it’s eyes focused on the rear exit, where it knew the prey would be leaving.
Finally, the door opened and people started to spill out, tired but joking and in good spirits after a good night’s service. The hunter stood slowly, keeping to the shadows and careful not to jostle any of the bags, though the cooks and wait staff that were leaving seemed more concerned with splitting up and getting home than watching the piles of trash for any predators lying in wait.
One of the last to leave was it’s prey, the target’s scent mixed delightfully with that of the meals he cooked. He was talking to one of his coworkers, obviously a continuation of an earlier conversation.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride, Jen?” the co-worker asked, keys already in her hand. “You know it’s no problem for me to drive you home.”
Jensen, it’s prey, smiled reassuringly and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t live too far and walking gives me a chance to unwind.”
Though the hunter already knew it’s prey’s habits, it dropped his jaw in a small smile at the news. If the prey was walking, then the hunt would be a lot easier. It was a smart predator, as all of it’s kind were, and although a challenge was fun, an easy hunt was much more preferred.
The other human frowned and glanced up at the sky where the moon hung bloated full. “I guess if you want, just be careful. Okay?”
Jensen had already started to walk away, but he tossed an “I’m always careful!” over his shoulder, and then the alley was empty.
It waited another few moments just in case someone else was about to leave the building or anyone was dallying in driving away, and slipped out from it’s cover and headed out, following the steady tread of it’s prey. It kept back, so the clicking of it’s nails against the concrete wouldn’t tip off it’s prey too early.
The street they were on was too busy for the hunt, and it had to stop and hide behind a parked car occasionally when a driver passed, hiding from the headlights on this night in particular. The hunter was patient, and that patience was rewarded at long last, the prey turned down a quieter street, and the hunter knew he had it’s chance. It was the last of the three nights of the full moon that night, and it knew that if it's prey managed to escape the creature would have to wait another month to have another chance.
Putting on a burst of speed it rushed forward, but the prey was cannier than it thought - maybe it heard it’s panting breath or the tap of nails on concrete, or maybe some sixth sense not used for generations since predators like itself had become less of a threat tipped him off, but Jensen turned just in time that the fangs that were aimed at his neck imbedded themselves in his shoulder.
The prey shouted as the weight of the hunter brought him down. It dug it’s teeth in deeper, snarling, while Jensen pushed and punched at it. It yelped when Jensen landed a solid punch right on it’s nose and let go, and the prey managed to roll always and regain it’s feet, left hand clasped over right shoulder where the blood was pouring out and staining his shirt.
Predator and prey eyed each other for a long moment, Jensen looking ready to run at the slightest movement, the hunter with it’s head low and feet planted wide. Finally the hunter turned and ran off, knowing it would seem to disappear into the night to it’s prey’s weaker senses. The goal wasn’t to kill the man, but to infect him.
Perhaps Senator Alan Ackles would change his stance on regulation if his own son was a Wolf.
-------------------------------
St. Radegund Hospital was quiet so late at night, so Jensen felt more awkward than he thought he otherwise would sitting at the curtained-off cot in the emergency room. His bite wound, which was not as bad as he thought it would be once all the blood was washed off, was stitched and wrapped in a clean white bandage, and he was given a purple scrub shirt to replace his ruined Tee.
He was waiting on some test results, and since the animal that attacked him looked like a big dog, and it was the night of a full moon that he had gotten attacked, he had a real bad idea of what sort of results he might get.
Which was Not Good for so many reasons.
Well. A couple main reasons.
For as far back as Jensen could remember his father had been after the regulation of werewolves and other weres. Who would want their kids to be taught by someone who turned furry and killed things with their own teeth once a month, to say nothing about what could happen if an instinctively aggressive creature joined the police force?
Jensen’s views he really couldn’t say. His father didn’t really lecture to him over the dinner table about the evils of werewolves, but he still knew without a doubt his parent’s stance from small comments here and there. Watching the news and hearing about a were-something-or-other suing a former employer over unfair treatment would elicit a derisive snort and a comment about how ‘some people’ should be happy with what they’ve got.
When Jensen was younger he had felt more or less the same way. Of *course* by bowing down to let werewolves and their ilk to do whatever they want they’re undermining the foundations the country was built upon. Somehow. But as he got older he lost that certain feeling. He didn’t think that his father was speaking absolute truth, but there was just something about weres that made him uncomfortable.
Still, whenever the subject of werewolves came up he’d nod along with whatever his parents said, agree wholeheartedly, and then try to change the subject.
If his tests came back positive, he’d have to tell his father. And that? He was definitely not looking forward to. He could just see it now; all of Alan Ackles’ political opponents suddenly having something ‘good’ against him, all of his speeches picked apart and analyzed. Meanwhile, Alan would have even more of a vendetta against werewolves, his crusade given new fervor. All the while Jensen would be stuck with that curse, forgotten by his father except for when he’d be thrown up as an example and then tossed aside as a disgrace.
Damn it.
A second reason was his girlfriend. He loved Danneel; she was funny, smart, and beautiful as all hell. Jensen felt lucky that she’d even give him the time of day, never mind date him for the past two years. If it wasn’t for the fact that her acting career sent her bouncing all around the country they would have moved in together long ago, and Jensen had been seriously considering proposing for a while. He didn’t even really know her stance on werewolf rights. It was his own fault, every time the conversation came up Jensen steered the subject away. He got enough of it every time he came home, he didn’t want to rehash the same subjects with his girlfriend. That, he could blame himself for, but suddenly he wished he knew if she’d be fine with him being furry every month or if she’d run screaming.
His depressed musings were cut short by the curtain being pushed aside, and the doctor he'd seen when he first entered came in. She carried a manila folder and a clipboard in one hand and took a seat at a stool next to the bed. “I'm sorry for the wait," she said. "Normally test results take even longer, but we're having a comparatively slow night and was able to get them done faster than usual."
Jensen shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying not to let the sudden spike of nerves influence his voice.
"We do have some news we have to discuss, Jensen,” Dr. Cortese said, her voice gentling..
Through the cold feeling in his gut and clenching in his heart, Jensen replied quietly, “That’s not really all that reassuring, doc.”
“I don’t want to sugarcoat things,” she said, scanning the paper fastened to the clip board. “What I have to tell you is going to cause some massive changes in your life. Jensen, the animal that attacked you was a Therianthrope, a werewolf if you will, and infected you. Judging by the size and shape of the teeth marks, it’s a safe bet to assume Wolf, rather than Coyote or Fox.”
Following her announcement was a deep silence until Jensen let out a whoosh of air in a heavy sigh, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.
“I kinda expected it, to be honest,” he said. “It being a full moon tonight and everything. Can’t say I like it, though.” Understatement of the year, Jensen thought, and winced.
“I know this is a big change,” Dr. Cortese said softly. “And this is why I have some paperwork for you to look at when you get home. With it is the name and phone number for someone you can get a hold of to talk with you. His name is Jared Padalecki - he's also a Therianthrope, a Wolf to be exact. Both of his parents were, so he'd been born as one, and is as much of an expert of Therianthropy as anyone else in the area. Both he and the paperwork you have will be able to help prepare you for next month, when you'll shift for the first time."
She handed the folder over as she talked, and Jensen leafed through the pages while listening to her voice drone in the background. There were diagrams of different types of weres, he saw. Mostly Wolves were shown, but a few others like a Tiger, a White tailed Deer, and a Fox, with differences between those and natural, feral animals. One bolded section of text caught his eye and he paused.
"Wait," he said, one finger pointing at the text. "It says here that I can be charged with endangerment if I don't tell any 'sexual partners' about being a werewolf. What the hell does that mean?"
Dr. Cortese paused for a moment before saying, "Therianthropy can be passed along several ways, and one of them is through sexual intercourse. Technically speaking, it can be considered an STD."
"Yeah," Jensen said, exasperated. "But you don't go to fucking jail if you give your girl friend herpes!"
"Current laws make a distinction between the two," she replied. "If you move to another state it might be a different story, but here you can face jail time if you pass it on."
Jensen covered his face with his hands and leaned back until his back thumped against the wall. These were the sort of things his family had been fighting to make more strict for years, and just then he felt just how embarrassing and invasive those measures were… and he’d just been officially a werewolf for only a few minutes.
Dropping his hands to his lap, Jensen looked at Dr. Cortese who was watching him back, eyes kind and patient. “So what does this Padaleki guy do exactly? Tell me the right ways to mark my territory, the proper pitch to howl at the moon with?”
Cortese's lips curved into a smile, bringing out dimples at either side of her mouth, and replied, “Like I said, he's a born Lycanthrope and have studied Therianthropy for years. Basically, if you have any questions at all, he'll have your answers. To my knowledge he's helped three others in the past leading up to their first transformation, and they’re all living full, happy lives. In all honesty,” she continued. “Though the numbers of accidental infections have gone down a *lot* in past years, you’re still in good hands.”
“Wait,” Jensen said, putting a hand up to cut Cortese off, who looked like he was starting in on a good spiel. “What do you mean ’accidental?’ It wasn’t like I tripped and landed my shoulder in a fuckin’ wolf’s open mouth! I was attacked. And now you are saying I’m going to be this, this *thing* every month because of it.”
Cortese was quiet for a minute or two before she said softly, "They're not all like that, Jensen. I know Jared personally, and there’s not a single other Therian that I know who would purposely attack a human in anything but self-defense.”
Jensen sighed, suddenly weary. “Whatever, fine. Can I call him later? I just need to rest on this for a while, alright? Wrap my head around this or something."
“Please don’t wait too long,” she said. “You wont show too many obvious signs of Lycanthropy until your first full moon a month from now, but it’s good to be prepared just in case.”
Yeah, Jensen thought. But nothing you say can prepare me to tell my dad and girlfriend that I’m a freakin’ werewolf.
“One more thing, Jensen,” Dr. Cortese spoke up. “Because this was a Therian attack I had to inform the cops, and an officer will be over soon to speak with you about the Wolf that attacked you.”
Jensen groaned. A long night was becoming even longer.
--------------------------------------------
When Jensen woke up several hours later it was to a shoulder that only mildly twinged, a headache, and the painful realization that he had to tell his parents what happened.
Putting the last aside for the moment, he headed to the bathroom to begin his morning (or very early afternoon, in his case) ablutions. He had just brushed his teeth and had started the shower going when he realized that his shoulder not only didn’t hurt badly, it didn’t hurt at *all.*
Gingerly unwrapping the dressing around his shoulder with his left hand, he watched as his own eyes grew wide and round in the bathroom mirror when, instead of the mangled, bruised mess his shoulder was in yesterday, all there was under the bandages was smooth skin, tiny threads of stitches still clinging to his flesh but falling away as he plucked them off. He could see tiny pockmarked scars where the werewolf had bitten down and tore, but where he’d expected a still-fresh wound instead looked months old, only the tiniest bit tender when he prodded around the joint.
This… is freaky. he thought. Academically, he knew that werewolves healed much faster than humans, but the rate and extent of the healing astounded him. He remembered a story where a were had gotten shot by a cop in some forgettably-named town in Georgia and managed to get back up and gore the deputy before backup could arrive, and at that moment he understood just how it had survived the gunshot. (Of course he remembered the story, it was a favorite at the Ackles’ kitchen table for months. It only fell out of being the main topic of conversation when a were-cougar was caught having an affair with one of his students, also a were. After that incident many states, including Jensen’s, made it a law barring weres from teaching positions.) Even though he was not 'fully' a werewolf and didn't have the full capabilities of one yet, he managed to totally heal a bad shoulder wound in mere hours.
However, the shoulder healing did more than just surprise him at just how fast a werewolf could heal, but also had more dire implications - that he really *was* a werewolf. At that first sign of his infection he knew in a distant sort of way that his life would be permanently changed, but that fact hadn’t really penetrated his brain until that moment in his bathroom.
With a hand that only shook a little, he turned the water off in his shower, burrowed back under his covers, and tried to sleep for another couple hours.
---------------------------------------------
Jared hit the speed dial on his cell phone as he leaned back in his padded computer chair, looking at the document he was typing as he listened to the ring on the other end. It was a couple hours until noon and usually Jeff was up by then after the full moon. Sure enough, after a couple rings, he heard a gruff “’Lo? What can I do for you, Jared?”
“I got some news,” Jared said. “But how did things go last night?”
“’Bout the same as always,” Jeff said. “We missed you these past couple-a days.”
Jared grinned at the slight reproach in Jeff’s voice. “You know I’d be there if I could,” he said. “But the deadline for this thing is coming up and my editor is breathing down my neck.”
“Ah, excuses. Anyway,” Jeff’s voice lost it’s lighter tone and turned more serious. “You wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important. What news?”
Jared frowned as he matched the same tone Jeff did, even though he wasn’t aware he was doing it. Jeff had that kind of influence, influencing others subtly, and without seeming aware he was even doing it. Just one of the reasons why he was such an effective Alpha.
“Someone got bit last night,” Jared said.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. But that’s not even the worst part is who got bit. Ackle’s kid. Gen called me up last night and told me what she could. Apparently he was a bit shaken, but doesn‘t seem much like his old man, at least as far as she could tell.”
“God damn it,” Jeff cursed, and Jared could hear over the phone as the older man moved around, probably pacing by the sound of it. “This is not going to help us.” There was a brief pause and then Jeff asked, “What do you think we should do.”
Jared rolled his eyes. Another test. Of course. If Jared knew Jeff (and he did) he knew that behind that enquiring tone he'd had at least a couple possible paths they could take to clean the mess they've currently found themselves in, but wanted to hear Jared's plan first. “Ackles’ shirt got pretty tore up when he fought back, so the scent of the Wolf is bound to be all over it. Gen managed to snag a bit from the hospital, so I left a message for Misha to get a hold of me when he wakes up. He's got one of the better noses of us, so even if the scent isn’t familiar, we can try to track it down to whatever Wolf did it.”
“And after that?” Jeff asked.
“We can either bring him in, or…” Jared paused. Though Therians weren’t nearly as bad as some members of the media portray them, there were still some parts of Wolf culture in particular that were not talked about, and the less the general public knew about those aspects the better. They made Jared uncomfortable at times, even as he saw the use. They couldn’t have a Wolf randomly - or, considering the target of the attack, not-so randomly - attacking humans and turning them.
“…Or…?” Jeff prompted, and Jared silently cursed the man for making him say it.
“Or we deal with it like Wolves.”
“Like Wolves,” Jeff agreed softly. “Alright, when Misha drags himself out of his tent I’ll make sure he calls. Are you going to talk with Ackles Junior?”
“His name is Jensen,” Jared said, feeling a little protective of the man. He had a bleeding heart, Jared knew. Jared never saw him, but after Gen called him he'd looked the Ackle's family up, and knew what the younger son looked like. Jared could imagine him, shaking and pale in that hospital room and his heart clenched. “And I hope so. Gen gave him my number, and it’ll be good for him talking with someone who knows about being a Therian first hand, instead of going to a camp or something.”
Jensen wouldn’t be the first person Jared advised. Though he had a decently-paying job, in the past he’s offered his service guiding new Therians through their first change. There were three before Jensen.
The first was an EMT who’d gotten bit trying to help a delirious Wolf. The Wolf had liked to run during the full moon in a large park, and one of the people who lived next to the park wasn’t too comfortable raising kids in an area a Wolf liked to hang out. So one night he shot the Wolf as she crossed the property in her fur with a silver bullet (technically illegal, but easy enough to find if a person knew where to look). Delirious and in agony from silver poisoning, she managed to limp away and shift back to her skin before the EMT arrived, and no one knew until afterwards that she was a Therian.
The second was a high schooler whose boyfriend was a Fox, and in a fit of romantic delirium decided that if they were both Therians they’d have a bond to keep them together forever. Almost a week to the next full moon, they’d broken up, and Jared was left to explain to her what to expect and to guide her through her first shift. He’d barely managed to keep her parents from suing the boyfriend.
The third was an attack on another. There was an argument between two men over a parking space of all things, and one of the men, a Therian, shifted into his fur to attack the other, who barely managed to escape with his life. That case was brought to national attention and touted as another example of “Werewolf aggression,” but Jared personally felt that if one person really wanted to hurt another, they would use any weapon at hand. That was just one case where the aggressor just used himself.
“Knowing his daddy, do you think he has a choice?” Jeff asked, bringing Jared’s attention back into the present.
“I hope so,” Jared said, sighing.
----------------------------------------
Jensen looked around the kitchen, trying to find his boss. He’d managed to crawl out of bed barely in enough time to finally take his shower and finish up getting dressed before heading to work early, and he arrived earlier than usual to tell his boss, Frank, about his apparent new life.
Jensen found him in one of the big walk-in freezers taking inventory. Jensen rapped his knuckles at the side to get his attention, and Frank looked up in surprise to see him standing there.
“Hey, Jen,” he greeted. “You’re here early.”
Jensen nodded at the obvious, and did his best to keep his face blank, to not show how his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. He had a good job here, and his boss was going to be the first person he’d tell about being a werewolf.
Apparently he wasn’t hiding his anxiety enough, because Frank lost his smile after a moment when Jensen didn’t respond and started to head out of the cooler. “How about we talk in my office?” Jensen followed submissively, and once they got to his crowded office he perched on the edge of the chair, elbows on knees.
Frank waited patiently behind his desk for a while, letting Jensen put his thoughts together. When Jensen finally let out of gusting sigh and leaned back, he said softly, “Can you tell me what the occasion is?”
Jensen barked out a quiet laugh, and said, “Remember how I walk home most nights?” When Frank nodded, he continued. “I got attacked last night.”
Frank’s eyes grew wide. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he said. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” Jensen said, then winced. “Well, sort of. It was a fuckin’ werewolf that attacked me.”
Frank sat back with a sigh. “Fuck, kid. Did you get infected?”
Jensen nodded.
“Fuck.” Frank said again, and then a little louder, “Fuck. I don’t want to get rid of you, but -”
“Wait,” Jensen interrupted. “Wait, what are you talking about? ‘Get rid of me?’ Are you firing me?” He couldn’t sit still any more. He jumped to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his hair.
“Calm down, Jensen!” Frank said, rising to his own feet as well. “I have to, you know that. If you get a cut and touch something and someone eats it, the restaurant will have a law suit so fast my head will spin.”
Jensen looked at Frank incredulously. “I’m not going to bleed all over a tiramisu and serve it to someone!”
“I know that,” Frank said, obviously trying to keep his voice calm. “I know you wouldn’t do something like that, but if it gets out I have a werewolf on my staff it's be the death of the place.”
Jensen didn’t easily lose his temper, but he almost did there. He was becoming something he’d been raised to hate, and because of that he lost his job. For absolutely nothing he did, other than choosing to walk home rather than accept a ride, his life was getting twisted on end. And not only that…
“So I’m screwed, then, right?” he said, wanting to thump his head against a wall a few times. Wanting to lose this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Hey, it doesn’t matter that I went to school and put a shit-load of money down so I can be a professional chef, or that I've worked here for years, I get bit by the wrong dog and it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Jensen.” Frank said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “So am I.” Then he turned around and left, passing the few of his ex-co-workers who’d started to trickle in, giving him curious looks that he ignored.
The day was remarkably sunny and cheerful for such an emotionally bad one, Jensen thought as he walked home along the path the night before. He didn’t know what to do. He just lost his job, the one he worked his ass off to get. He had bills to pay, an apartment to pay for, a life to live. He should probably start looking for a job right away, but where? His entire work history was in kitchens; first washing dishes as a kid and through college, then as a chef in a couple Mom ‘n Pop diners, and a couple not-too-shabby restaurants before finally landing his most recent job. If he couldn’t work in a kitchen on the off chance he would ‘infect’ somebody, where did that leave him?
You can start by not being so god-damn depressed, he chastised himself as he got into the elevator leading to his apartment. He’ll figure out something, he knew. It was just the ‘figuring out’ part that would be the trick.
He frowned as he remembered the guy Dr. Cortese recommended him to, Jared Padalecki. She said he’d help, even if Jensen really didn’t want to hear it at the time.
At that time, however, he really just wanted someone to talk to. And anyway, if anyone knew what places that'd hire a werewolf, it had to be him. Maybe he’d have an idea of where he could go, who he could talk to for help. Someone out there has got to be hiring werewolves.
He flipped open the manila folder Cortese had given him the night before that he still hadn't had a chance to go over and pulled out the card stapled to one cover, pulled out his cell, and dialed the number before he could change his mind. He remained resolute while dialing, and while the phone was ringing, but when he heard a voice on the other end greet him with a cheery, “City Morgue, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em,” he barked out a laugh and forgot all about being nervous or afraid.
“What?” he laughed.
“Oh, sorry, thought you were someone else,” Jared replied, and Jensen thought he could hear a note of embarrassment in his voice. “Speaking of, can I ask who’s calling?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jensen said. “This is Jensen. Jensen Ackles. My doctor, um. Dr. Cortese, she said to call you. I uh, I got bit.” He closed his eyes and cursed himself for sounding like an utter idiot over the phone.
“Ah, yeah. Gen told me you might be calling,” Jared said. His voice a bit quieter, more soothing, he asked, “How’re you doing?”
“Fine, I guess. Everything’s fine.” Jensen lied. Then, at the prompting silence at the other end he sighed. “No, everything’s not fine. I just got back from getting fired from my job. Apparently, it’s a faux pas or something to have a werewolf work in a kitchen.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jared said, and what was worse was that Jared really did seem sorry. Sorry that Jensen had this whole new life dumped on him, making him go through this major change that he wasn’t anywhere near ready for.
“Yeah,” Jensen replied.
There was a long silence on both of their parts before Jared said, “Hey, are you busy doing anything for an hour or two? I'm about to get a coffee and maybe it'll be easier if we talk face-to-face.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said again. “That’d be great.”
------------------------------------------
The place they decided to meet up at was a little too far for Jensen to walk, and even though the price of gas and his pitiful savings were in the back of his mind, damn it, it was just too far. When he arrived at the coffee shop, he was glad to see that it wasn't exactly busy, so finding Jared wouldn't be too difficult. The problem was that none of the people sitting at the tables exactly screamed 'werewolf' to him.
As he stood a little indecisively he saw as one of the patrons, a tall lanky man with shaggy hair sitting over by a window, spot him and start waving him over. Thinking that he could be the one Jensen was looking for, Jensen headed over. The tall guy stood as Jensen approached and stuck out his hand to be shook. "Jensen, I assume?" the guy asked, and Jensen nodded.
A grin split the guy's face, showing off perfect rows of almost too-white teeth. "Great! I'm Jared Padelecki, but just call me Jared. I'm your local werewolf expert extraordinaire." He gestured to one of the empty seats. "Go ahead and have a seat. Let's talk."
‘Goof’ Jensen thought, not unkindly. But when he slid into the seat across from the table Jared was at, his nerves returned and he had to hide his hands under the table before Jared saw how much they were shaking.
If Jared had noticed his nervousness anyway, he didn’t give any indication when he gave the coffee he was holding a little lift and grinned. “This place sells some good stuff, I really recommend it,” he said.
“I’ll pass for now,” Jensen replied, but what he really meant was, ‘I’m so nervous that I’m afraid to walk again in case my legs can’t hold me. I’m scared out of my mind about what I’m going to turn into and what’s going to happen in my life, and I really don’t think sitting here drinking coffee is going to make any difference.’
Jensen liked the shorter version better.
Jared shrugged, not looking too concerned, and they sat for a moment, just people-watching. Slowly Jensen started to relax.
Eventually, though, the quiet started to grate on him. It felt like Jared was waiting for him to make the first move, to be the first to reach out, and finally Jensen blurted out, “What’s it like?”
Jared looked bemused. “What, the coffee?”
“No,” Jensen said tightly. “What’s it like being a werewolf?”
Jared sighed, and said, “I can pretty much ask you what it’s like being a human. I was born this way, even if I didn’t start shifting until I was thirteen. Do you mean what it’s like being in my fur?”
Jensen blinked a couple times, “Being in your…fur?”
Jared made a rolling motion with the hand that wasn’t holding the coffee. “You know, being furry. As a Wolf, in my fur. Also, I‘d watch the whole ‘werewolf‘ thing. There‘s more than just Wolves out there, though according to Hollywood we‘re the only kind that matters, and some get pretty offended at the term. The general catch-all word is Therianthrope, or Therian.”
“Ah.” Jensen said. He’d heard the term before, but didn’t really think about it too much. Everyone he knew just said ‘werewolf’ and meant the whole lot of them, so he did likewise.
“Anyway, it’s amazing, Jensen,” Jared said, giving Jensen another one of those blindingly white grins and leaning forward, like a little boy telling someone about his favorite video game or cartoon. “You can smell things you’ve never dreamed about, and hear *so* much better than you ever can in your skin,” Jensen didn’t need an explanation for that one. “Plus when you start running, just feeling the wind rush by and feeling the joy of just *running*, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Every Therian I know looks forward to the full moon.”
Jensen looked down at his hands, which at that point were fiddling with a candle that was on the table. Listening to Jared describe how good it was being a werewolf, he didn’t want to see his expression when Jensen asked, “Is it worth it, though?”
“Worth what?”
“I just got fired from my job,” Jensen said. “I’m a pastry chef, and worked at the same place for a few years, and I just got fired because I got bit. Plus there's some laws out there that seriously have me scared. Do you know in California a bill has been proposed to allow full disclosure of any werewolf's medical history without a warrant? Um. Therian, I mean. Anyway, I know you can see where I’m going with this, right? Is it worth all this hassle?”
Jared was quiet for a minute, apparently thinking it over. When he finally responded he spoke slowly, thinking over everything just as he said it. “Honestly, there’s a lot of things that kind of suck about being a Therian. Jobs are rare, and even then there are a lot of employers that just don’t understand, and treat us like second-class citizens. But you know what? Even with all that, for those three nights of the full moon? Yeah, it’s worth it.”
Jensen didn't know whether or not he understood. How can just being able to run around on all fours be worth all that?
“Seriously, man,” Jared said. “All most Therians want is to just be left alone. They aren’t vicious killers out to turn anyone that they don’t eat.”
“The Scourge,” Jensen blurted, almost absentmindedly but immediately wanted to take it back when Jared winced. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “There was that. That’s a dark time in our history, dude, and no one looks back on that too happily.”
The Scourge was one of the main reasons why Wolves were so much more populous than other kinds of Therians. Back some time in the medieval ages a big pack of Wolves decided that the best way for them to gain power over humans was to turn as many as they could. Once there were enough Wolves in the world, or at least in their lands, they’d be able to take down whole empires. Or something stupid like that. So what they did was each night of the Full Moon they’d sneak into a village or town, staying away from the better defended areas and keeps, and bite as many people as they could.
Eventually the pack was hunted down and most of the original members slain, but the damage was done. The number of the infected numbered in the hundreds, and most sources say that was the event that made Therians in Europe and eventually the Americas Public Enemy #1.
It was a ridiculous plan that was doomed from the start - all that would happen, and did happen, was instead of making werewolves something to be respected and feared, they ended up being hunted and feared.
“Yeah,” Jensen repeated, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Jared shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, it’s ancient history.”
“I gotta say one last thing, though,” Jensen said after a brief silence.
“Yeah?”
Jensen looked up and gave Jared a wry smile. “I’m really not this emo normally.”
His weak attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work when Jared barked out a laugh. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said, grinning and pushing his chair back so he could stand. “I’m going to get myself something to drink, and then we’re going to have the most *non* emo conversation ever.”
“Ever huh?” Jared teased. “That’s going to take an effort.”
“You’re on,” Jensen said, heading to the counter.
---------------------------------------------------------
Two days later, there was still no lead on the Wolf that bit Jensen. Misha’d done his best to track it, managed to determine the wolf was an adult male that had some sickness that made it's scent sour, but nothing beyond that. The trail had gone cold and Jensen’s shirt, their only lead, was passed around to others to remember the scent in case they ever encountered the Wolf again. The cops were no help either: they did their best to keep Jensen’s identity a secret, and so far there were no reporters knocking on his door or anything, so he supposed they weren’t doing to bad at that. However, other than asking around and taking some samples from the area of the attack and saliva samples that had been found on his clothes, they also didn’t have any idea who’d done the attack yet. Whatever Wolf bit him, it didn’t have a criminal history. They were still looking into the attack, but until more evidence comes up, there wasn’t anything more they could do.
Meanwhile, both days were spent with Jared and Jensen hanging out. Jensen continued the job hunt during the day, avoiding speaking of his lycanthropic condition to either of his parents nor Danneel with a certain sort of avoidance that comes from trying to pretend for the sake of others that nothing has changed. During their occasional phone call he did his best not to blurt out the whole messy affair
Of course, avoiding an issue only works for so long, and it was only a matter of time until he was forced to come clean.
He’d come home from another failed excursion in filling out applications at just about any place that’d hand them out, no longer trying to be picky and just going for just a job, any job, until he could find something better. He didn’t notice Danneel’s car parked outside at the curb, but when he went to take his shoes off inside his apartment door and saw a pair of sleek white pumps that weren’t there before he felt his heart give a lurch in his chest and his palms grow sweaty.
“Jen?” He heard coming from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, stammering just a little. He cleared his throat and toed off his shoes, kicking them to the side before turning the corner to the kitchen. There was Danneel; beautiful, witty Danneel, who was taking some produce out of some white grocery bags and sticking them in his fridge.
He wasn’t prepared for this, for her. He braced himself with one hand against the doorway as she put away a small bag of grapes and headed towards him, a small, welcoming smile on her face.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.
“Feeding you, apparently,” she said, lowering one hand long enough to poke him in his belly. “I got here earlier and you had nothing in your fridge but condiments and some questionable bologna. I thought chefs are supposed to actually know how to feed themselves.”
As she spoke she started tugging on the back of his neck, lowering his face closer to hers, and her kiss was a period. He kept his lips pressed against hers, eyes closed and just breathed her in: inhaling her smell, the scent of her perfume, deodorant, soap, shampoo, and beneath all that her own unique scent. He pulled away just enough so he could lower his face to her neck, nuzzling her skin and inhaling more of her personal scent, snuffling behind her ear where the smell was strongest.
He missed her, this tiny woman of whom he could span the entire span of her hips with his hands. She was gone for too long, off shooting her TV show and left him behind to face getting turned by some random attack. But she was back, and, *God* she smelled so good. And she tasted better, he found, as he started to kiss and lick at her neck and jaw, ducking his head an almost uncomfortable amount to reach. He ran his teeth down the tendon in her neck, and except for a moment of ‘yuck, perfume, bitter’ her skin tasted sweet and clean with a tang of sweat from the warm day outside. His cock was hard in his pants, and he pressed his hips against hers, grinding his erection into her and hissing at the delicious pressure.
“Jensen,” he heard, dimly. He growled softly at the interfering noise, and nosed the skinny strap of Danneel's dress to the side so he could kiss and suck along more along her shoulder, more skin bared to his teeth, his mouth. She was *his* girlfriend, and had no right to run off like that and leave him alone. He growled again, about to sink his teeth in, make her his own. “Jensen, stop. *Stop.*” Suddenly that golden span of skin disappeared and his head wrenched to the side.
Jensen found that bit of skin again with his eyes, and was about to step forward when he caught sight of Danneel's face, and realization about just how he was acting, what he was feeling slapped him across the face.
Danneel had backed up a couple steps so that she wasn’t pinned against the doorway anymore, staring at Jensen with wide eyes. He felt over-warm and sweaty, and small tremors raced through his body. He still wanted her under his hands, he had the taste of her in his mouth and her scent in his nose, and he still *wanted* her.
But the *way* he wanted her… *God,* he never felt like that before. He didn’t just want her, he wanted to *own* her, he wanted to *turn* her. He felt the blood drain from his face, and he turned away. He felt like throwing up; there was a heavy weight in his belly, shame and disgust in himself. And worry. He never wanted to just own her like that, so it had to have something to do with his being infected. Jared acted like being a Wolf was the best thing since candy, but that? That was just scary.
“Jensen, are you okay?” Danneel asked, and Jensen had to almost rip his eyes off of her neck (was that a hickey forming there? God!) to focus on her face. Her slender eyebrows were raised in concern, but with a little furrow of confusion between them. “What’s wrong? What’s with you?”
Jensen felt sick. After nearly *attacking* her like that she was still concerned about him. Jensen stumbled on legs that felt like Jell-o to the kitchen table and collapsed into one of the chairs, head in his hands.
He could hear her soft footsteps as she came closer, but refused to look up at her, just in case that… that *craziness* took him over again.
“Jensen, baby, you’re really starting to worry me here,” Danneel said, and Jensen could hear the worry in the quaver in her voice. He caught a glance of movement between his fingers, and when he lowered his hands Danneel was crouched next to his chair, one hand on his chair. She was looking up at him with big liquid eyes framed in dark lashes.
He felt that possessiveness again rising up, wanted to take and own. His dick twitched in his pants.
Jensen shot to his feet so fast that his chair fell back with a clatter like a gunshot and was at the other side of the room in an instant. He pressed himself against the sink counter, hands braced on either side. As much as he wanted to turn away, he kept his eyes on Danneel; the better to make sure she didn’t get too close until he got this *whatever* controlled.
“Jensen, seriously, what’s your problem?” Danneel said, rising to her feet, one hand on her hip. A bit of irritation seeped into her voice by then, and Jensen swallowed a couple times before he could speak.
“Danneel, I got something I need to tell you,” he said. After that he hesitated, unsure about what to say next, how to break the news.
Danneel snorted indelicately. “I’m sure,” she said. “You’re freaking out over *something*, obviously.”
Jensen swallowed again. His twisting belly hurting so bad he pressed a hand to his gut. “It’s kinda important.”
“I’m sure.”
“…Maybe you should sit down?”
“Jensen!”
“Alright, alright,” he sighed. He took a deep breath and stared at a discolored spot on his otherwise clean ceiling. “The other night I got bit by a werewolf. Therian. That.”
Danneel was quiet for so long that Jensen started to fidget, still refusing to look at her. Still, he could hear her as she pulled out another chair and sat heavily.
“How long ago?” she finally asked. Jensen glanced up to see her staring at the kitchen table, hands in her lap.
“About three days,” Jensen said, barely louder than a whisper. She apparently heard because she nodded, still not facing him.
There was another long silence until Jensen cleared his throat and asked, “Is it… is it okay? I mean, will this be a problem?”
“’Will this be a problem?’” she echoed, and Jensen winced at the bitterness in her voice. “A *problem,* Jensen? What do you think?” She looked up, and Jensen gulped at the tears running down her face. “Oh, my *God,* you’re a werewolf!”
“It’s not that big of deal,” Jensen said weakly in the face of her irritation. “I’ve been talking to a guy, and he says that a lot of werewolves - Therians,” he corrected himself. “Have fully human spouses and have no problem.”
“We’re going to have a problem!” she said, nearly yelling. “What about sex, Jensen? I don’t *want* to be a werewolf, too!”
“We can use condoms,” Jensen said, feeling sick.
“Condoms break,” she said. “And what about kids? I *know* you were wanting to have a family one day, do you really want have your kids be, be that?” she finished with a flailing hand gesture, apparently indicating Jensen’s Therian-ness.
“We can adopt,” Jensen said, starting to feel desperate. “C’mon, baby, we can figure something out, right?” He ignored the little voice at the back of his mind saying, ‘do you really want to stay together? Remember what happened only a few minutes ago, how you attacked her?’
“I don’t think so, Jensen,” she said. What’s worse, she sounded honestly upset, her voice hitching and tears still streaming down her face. “Do you know how easily you can infect me, how easily…” he voice trailed off, and her eyes grew wide as her hand flew to her throat.
“I didn’t break skin,” Jensen said quickly, but Danneel wasn’t listening as she nearly ran out of the kitchen to get to the bathroom. Jensen followed more slowly and listened as the sink turned on, and he entered the bathroom to see her scrubbing at her neck with a towel. Between the hot water and the force of her scrubbing her skin was turning a bright red.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling his own eyes well up embarrassingly.
Danneel wasn’t listening though, and she threw the hand towel down into the sink and wrenched the faucet closed. Head ducked, apparently so she wouldn’t look him in the face, she pushed passed Jensen and headed down the hallway, to the door.
“I’m so sorry, Danneel, please,” he begged, not even sure what he was begging her for. Forgiveness? For her to stay?
Danneel didn’t even bother putting her shoes back on, just picked them up with one hand and opened the door with the other. As she closed the door behind her, Jensen heard her parting comment:
“So am I.”
--------------------------------
Jensen fumbled at his ringing cell phone, staring blankly at the screen for a long moment before the name finally penetrated his brain. Sinking deeper into his couch cushions, he flipped open the phone and raised it to his ear.
“H’lo?” he grumbled, watching the bikini-clad model on the TV talk about Spring Break (barely audible over the hoots and shouts of the partying crowd behind her) with a sort of distant fascination.
“Jen, it’s me, Jared,” came the voice over the phone. “Good news, I managed to find someone willing to hire you. It’s just at s warehouse and loading crates and stuff, but it’s something until you find a better job.”
“Great, great,” Jensen said. At the back of his mind he knew that it was good mood, but he was just too depressed to even care at that moment. “I ‘ppreciate Jared, I do.”
“…Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you drunk?”
Jensen glanced at the fifth he still had loosely clasped in one hand and shrugged, even though he knew Jared couldn’t see it over the phone. “A little, yeah.”
Jared chuckled, his voice warm over the phone. “Partying without me, man? What’s the occasion?”
Jensen snorted. “No party, man. Danneel just broke up with me.”
“Ah, shit,” Jared said. “I’m sorry about that. Hey, you want me to come over? Drunken wallowing is more fun when there’s two people.”
Jensen made a rude noise and said, “Whatever, man. Just… do whatever you want. Bring more booze, ‘cause you‘re not drinking mine.”
Jared laughed again, but even drunk Jensen could tell it was forced. “Stingy bastard. Alright, I’ll be over in a few. Don’t pass out yet, though: I’ll need you to buzz me in.”
Jensen flipped the phone shut and dropped it, not caring where it landed, took another sip of his cheap whiskey, and zoned out for a long moment. It wasn’t too long until he heard the ring signaling someone at his door, and he stood up, took a few moments to relearn how to stand upright, and stumbled over to the button on the wall and buzzed Jared in. He was still leaning on the button when a large hand gently grasped his own and lifted it off the switch.
“Jesus, Jen,” Jared said softly, holding Jensen’s shoulders (and truthfully was the *only* thing holding him up at that point) and giving him a look over. “You’re not drunk, you’re pissed.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jensen said. He tried to push Jared to the side so he could head back to his very comfortable couch, but as soon as Jared took his hands off of him he started listing to the side. Thankfully Jared caught him and guided him over to the couch himself. “It’s not fair,” he said as soon at his rump hit cushion.
“What isn’t, this crap you’ve bought?” Jared asked, giving the bottle of Banker’s Jensen had been drinking from. He gave it a wary sniff and made a face.
“Shuddup, it’s cheap and it gets me drunk.” Jensen sighed and let his head fall back against the top of the couch. “No. Wait. It’s fair. It’s completely fair and I’m just being a fucking pussy about it. I should’ve known better and just… hid or something.”
“Jensen, you’re not really making a whole lot of sense here, buddy. What‘s not fair?” Jared said, setting the fifth down on the coffee table with just a slight thunk.
“Danneel, man. She broke up with me. Did you know that?”
He could see Jared nod at his periphery. “Yeah, you told me on the phone, remember?”
Jensen tried to nod, but with his head still tipped against the back of the couch it just made him feel a little dizzy. “Yeah, guess so. But I can’t blame her, y’see? It’s totally fair. Completely fair. Ab-so-fucking-lutely fair. Especially after I fuckin’… *attacked* her. God!” He squeezed his eyes closed, trying not to let the tears he could feel welling up out, but he could still feel them squeeze out.
Jared was completely still beside him for a moment, just breathing. After a while he rose to his feet, and clapped his hands together once loud enough to make Jensen jump. “Alright,” he said. “I think what we need to do is get you to bed so you can sleep off this drunk. Then when you sober up a bit you can tell me what you’re talking about, okay?”
“It’s eight o’clock,” Jensen said, not even caring that it came out sounding like a petulant five year-old.
“And you’re shitfaced, which is why you’re going to bed,” Jared said, hauling on Jensen until he stood. Jensen stumbled forward when his head seemed to suddenly gain about a hundred pounds, but Jared was once more able to catch him, Jensen just tipping before Jared was able to catch him; a warm solid wall being gentle enough it made Jensen’s eyes burn with tears he was definitely *not* going to shed.
Jensen leaned close and rubbed one hand across Jared’s shoulder, gruffly affectionate. “You’re a good guy, Jared,” he said, voice wet.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jared replied distantly, propelling Jensen across the floor.
“No really,” Jensen said, really *needing* Jared to know that. “Really. You’re a great guy. Nicest werewolf I’ve ever known. Nicest werewolf in the world, prob‘ley.”
Jared snorted as he pushed the bedroom door open with one arm, Jensen tucked under the other. “Aren’t I the only werewolf you’ve ever known?”
He had to think about it for a moment, long enough for Jared to set him down on the bed. “Yeah, I think so. Personallally, anyway.”
“There we go, then,” Jared said, pushing at Jensen’s chest with a steady pressure until he got the message and lay back against his pillow. “You don’t know a whole lot of Therians 'personallally,' so there’s no way for you to know I’m the nicest one in the whole world.”
Jensen grunted his assent - he didn’t really care one way or the other - but when Jared started to pull away, Jensen grabbed his hand. He turned on his side and pulled Jared’s big hand close, holding it with both of his own hands and met Jared’s eyes.
“I’m glad you’re the first werewolf I ever met, Jared,” he said.
Jared smiled and used his free hand to gently extract the other from Jensen’s grasp, but instead of pulling away he knelt at the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through Jensen’s hair, scratching lightly, and smiled. “Go to sleep Jensen,” he advised. “We’ll talk in the morning.” With that, he stood up, turned off the bedroom light, and closed the door.
Part 2