Being Human Fic - Hungry Like the Wolf (1/1)
Title: Hungry Like the Wolf
Disclaimer: Being Human. Not mine. Etc.
Summary: What happens when a werewolf attacks a corporeal ghost?
Characters: Annie, George (Annie/George if you do some severe squinting.)
Spoilers: Through 1x01. But the real one, not the pre-air.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 795
Author's Note: Every time we see George on his "monthlies," I love how incredibly moving and gruesome the transformation is (while the actual werewolf is a big fat piece of lulz). So in the pilot, when Mitchell warned Annie not to stay, not to see it happen, and of course she ignored him, I wanted to know why. What was motivating her at that moment? And furthermore, what exactly went down in that room once Mitchell left and the change began?
Thanks to ponderous77 for the quicky beta. ;)
And she watched him scream with such horror as the animal ripped through and out.
She watched the muscles clench and stretch and tear, the bones crack and shift. She saw the agony of birth, and that of death, mix precariously on George’s face, before his face stopped being his face. Before he lost all meaning or purpose.
It was the saddest thing she ever saw. And when it was all over, and the wolf stood panting right there in her living room, Annie wiped her tears away.
“George?” She whispered, raising her head just a little. But of course he wasn’t there, because the monster that stared back at her knew nothing of humanity. His lip quivered, froth sliding through the cracks between his teeth, and she was sure he swallowed, perhaps a Pavlovian response to her presence? The wolf exhaled a growl.
At that particular moment two thoughts flashed inside her mind. One…Get out. Get out now. Get out before it’s too late. And two… Stay.
She never knew what made her choose the later. Maybe it was that naïve human drive to seek out goodness in all living creatures, or maybe because it was still George underneath the fur and madness. It didn’t really matter because there she was, standing in front of him, arm outstretched. Somewhere in the heart of this creature, George was screaming, and all Annie wanted was to comfort him. After all, she was right there. She wanted him to see her.
But the animal, the animal needed more. And right now Annie’s shaky hand seemed a foolish idea. What use is a pat on the head to a rabid dog? She barely registered the bark before he pounced.
And this is how it all went down.
The wolf hit her body with a tackling blow, front paws digging into her shoulders, his weight sending her flat on her back, knocking the breath she didn’t have right out of her. If he were a man he would be straddling her now. But as he was what he was; he simply loomed above her.
While his front paws remained firm on her shoulders, the hind legs bounced him across her body like a jump rope - first to the right, then to the left, then to the right again.
His claws shredded her clothes, marking her body with long ugly gashes, while his mouth attacked her throat. Teeth pierced her tender flesh, ripping and chewing. And once again her blood stained the wooden floor.
She stared through the monster working above her. Maybe now she should scream? Alert Mitchell of what was happening? But maybe he’d already ripped out the noise-making bits of her throat? Maybe he had already finished with her entirely! Oh God, how much of her was left?!
As the wolf lapped up the blood around her, Annie pondered the various ways in which she’d be digested. She wondered when she would feel pain, because she missed the feeling. Well, she missed all feelings, but she figured if there was one that could come back, it would be pain. But still she was numb.
If only she could just die and stay dead! If only she could leave this pitiful house and never return! If only she could just have some peace. If only…
Annie tried to raise her head and was surprised to find that she actually could. She scanned the rest of her body: not a scratch. She sat up: no blood pooled around her.
“Well fuck,” she exclaimed. The wolf jerked, seemingly seeing her for the first time, a half masticated couch cushion still sticking out of his mouth.
Annie’s eyes went wide, “Oh sorry, George! Just keep…doing what you’re doing. See you soon!”
She scrambled as his growl grew, and suddenly there she was, sitting on the front stoop next to Mitchell and the telly. And as she dropped her head on Mitchell’s shoulder she thought about how right he was.
George and his curse. The birth of the wolf was the most horrific thing she’d ever seen, but it was never hers to see. She regretted being the witness and the voyeur, but the greatest betrayal came from being a friend. Because she never stayed for George, she stayed for herself, for her own perverse pleasure. She knew that this was wrong on all kinds of levels, and yet, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so exhilarated, so excited. It was the possibility of a second death that sent adrenaline up her spine.
Somewhere inside the house that Mitchell and George shared with Annie, a werewolf raged. Outside in the free world a hungry vampire waited for the storm to pass, and a lonely ghost suddenly felt very much alive.
Disclaimer: Being Human. Not mine. Etc.
Summary: What happens when a werewolf attacks a corporeal ghost?
Characters: Annie, George (Annie/George if you do some severe squinting.)
Spoilers: Through 1x01. But the real one, not the pre-air.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 795
Author's Note: Every time we see George on his "monthlies," I love how incredibly moving and gruesome the transformation is (while the actual werewolf is a big fat piece of lulz). So in the pilot, when Mitchell warned Annie not to stay, not to see it happen, and of course she ignored him, I wanted to know why. What was motivating her at that moment? And furthermore, what exactly went down in that room once Mitchell left and the change began?
Thanks to ponderous77 for the quicky beta. ;)
And she watched him scream with such horror as the animal ripped through and out.
She watched the muscles clench and stretch and tear, the bones crack and shift. She saw the agony of birth, and that of death, mix precariously on George’s face, before his face stopped being his face. Before he lost all meaning or purpose.
It was the saddest thing she ever saw. And when it was all over, and the wolf stood panting right there in her living room, Annie wiped her tears away.
“George?” She whispered, raising her head just a little. But of course he wasn’t there, because the monster that stared back at her knew nothing of humanity. His lip quivered, froth sliding through the cracks between his teeth, and she was sure he swallowed, perhaps a Pavlovian response to her presence? The wolf exhaled a growl.
At that particular moment two thoughts flashed inside her mind. One…Get out. Get out now. Get out before it’s too late. And two… Stay.
She never knew what made her choose the later. Maybe it was that naïve human drive to seek out goodness in all living creatures, or maybe because it was still George underneath the fur and madness. It didn’t really matter because there she was, standing in front of him, arm outstretched. Somewhere in the heart of this creature, George was screaming, and all Annie wanted was to comfort him. After all, she was right there. She wanted him to see her.
But the animal, the animal needed more. And right now Annie’s shaky hand seemed a foolish idea. What use is a pat on the head to a rabid dog? She barely registered the bark before he pounced.
And this is how it all went down.
The wolf hit her body with a tackling blow, front paws digging into her shoulders, his weight sending her flat on her back, knocking the breath she didn’t have right out of her. If he were a man he would be straddling her now. But as he was what he was; he simply loomed above her.
While his front paws remained firm on her shoulders, the hind legs bounced him across her body like a jump rope - first to the right, then to the left, then to the right again.
His claws shredded her clothes, marking her body with long ugly gashes, while his mouth attacked her throat. Teeth pierced her tender flesh, ripping and chewing. And once again her blood stained the wooden floor.
She stared through the monster working above her. Maybe now she should scream? Alert Mitchell of what was happening? But maybe he’d already ripped out the noise-making bits of her throat? Maybe he had already finished with her entirely! Oh God, how much of her was left?!
As the wolf lapped up the blood around her, Annie pondered the various ways in which she’d be digested. She wondered when she would feel pain, because she missed the feeling. Well, she missed all feelings, but she figured if there was one that could come back, it would be pain. But still she was numb.
If only she could just die and stay dead! If only she could leave this pitiful house and never return! If only she could just have some peace. If only…
Annie tried to raise her head and was surprised to find that she actually could. She scanned the rest of her body: not a scratch. She sat up: no blood pooled around her.
“Well fuck,” she exclaimed. The wolf jerked, seemingly seeing her for the first time, a half masticated couch cushion still sticking out of his mouth.
Annie’s eyes went wide, “Oh sorry, George! Just keep…doing what you’re doing. See you soon!”
She scrambled as his growl grew, and suddenly there she was, sitting on the front stoop next to Mitchell and the telly. And as she dropped her head on Mitchell’s shoulder she thought about how right he was.
George and his curse. The birth of the wolf was the most horrific thing she’d ever seen, but it was never hers to see. She regretted being the witness and the voyeur, but the greatest betrayal came from being a friend. Because she never stayed for George, she stayed for herself, for her own perverse pleasure. She knew that this was wrong on all kinds of levels, and yet, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so exhilarated, so excited. It was the possibility of a second death that sent adrenaline up her spine.
Somewhere inside the house that Mitchell and George shared with Annie, a werewolf raged. Outside in the free world a hungry vampire waited for the storm to pass, and a lonely ghost suddenly felt very much alive.