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"Things That Go Bump in the Night"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: Oranges are purple, the Wizard of
OZ actually exists, and the boys have signed a contract saying they
legally belong to me. And, no, they weren’t under the influence
of drugs or alcohol when they signed it either…well, okay, not
much. ^_^ Pairings: 3x4, existing 5xM Rating: Velvet says it’s an R Spoilers: Nope Warnings: AU (so, SOOO AU), supernatural, lime,
violence, some language, my twisted sense of humor…need I say
more? Author’s Chaotic Rambling on No Particular
Subject: Yeah. No idea where this came from. Sat down
to work on the 4x6, and wrote thirty pages of this instead. Granted,
I was in the mood for some supernatural kinkiness, but I wasn’t
planning on writing it! Ah well. *emphasized*
" Things That Go Bump in the Night" Chapter 3 It is not necessary to change. Survival is
not mandatory.
Because I was still arguing with bits of string, Iria let him in, eyebrows rising slightly in surprise. “You must be Trowa.” I didn’t see Trowa’s response because he was still hidden by a wall, but whatever it was it was silent. “Ah. Quatre told me about you last night. We did a great deal of talking and reading until very early this morning, so my brother is not awake yet. Come in and wait for him, please.” Trowa finally entered the entire way so I could see him. He took one look at my predicament and started smirking. “Shoelaces putting up a battle?” I stuck my tongue out at him. Not mature or witty, but at least it adequately reflected my opinion of his comment. Laughing softly he crossed the room, knelt in front of me, and tied my shoestrings. I felt like I was three all over again. Still, it was sweet that he did it. Whoa, Quatre, don’t go there boy. Crushing on a werewolf is probably a bad idea. Let’s not go to that land of wonder, okay? “Thanks,” I told him. “Let me get some coffee and then we’re set. You want a mug too?” “If you don’t mind.” Iria must read minds because she brought two mugs out to us. “We make very strong coffee in this house, Trowa, so if you want cream or sugar speak up now.” “Actually, I take it black. Thank you.” He nodded to her before taking a sip. His eyes started to water slightly. A little hoarsely he stated, “Wow. That’s strong. Arabic coffee?” “Yup,” I confirmed. “Father got us addicted to it. Want to change your mind on the cream?” “No, just let me get used to it.” Trowa took another sip, this one more cautious than the first. I could tell that he was beginning to like it, though. I’d probably be amused at this later, when I’m properly awake. For now I just drank my coffee and prodded my synapses into working order. Five minutes later we were out the door, me bouncing from the caffeine kick and Trowa just quietly following along. It was then that the other factors of his presence raised some alarms in my head. “Oh hell,” I exclaimed. “What?” he was faintly alarmed, looking sharply all around. “Hilde! Sally! Crap, they’re going to jump to all sorts of conclusions—okay, I have to think fast. What’s a good, plausible story for you and Heero hanging out with me?” Trowa blinked at me. “These two girls…they’re friends?” “My best friends. Nosey friends. All females want to know everything that goes on with everybody, and if I don’t provide all the facts I’m going to hear about it at great length.” Sometimes I wonder why I’m constantly surrounded by women. Not that I don’t love them, but having a guy around now and then would be nice. I guess I shouldn’t say that though, considering that I have a couple of were guys now following me around. Hm…now that might take some getting used to. “I’m the new kid in town, remember? Just say you volunteered to show me around.” I blinked at the simplicity of that story. “They might buy that. They’d probably assume I did it just to figure out why you feel so different to me. Trowa, you’re a genius.” “Nah, I just have a sister.” I snorted, giving him an amused glance. “You too, eh? Younger or older?” “Older. By a year, but she acts like my mother.” “All older sisters do,” I assured him. “Be thankful you only have one.” I had many more than that, and it oscillated between getting really old and being a lot of fun. “Hey Trowa, can I ask something?” “Sure.” “I can’t really get a feel for how old you are. Your Packmaster is…old. Really old. I can feel the age in him. But what about you?” “Actually, I’m seventeen,” Trowa admitted. “Not old at all.” “Really?” Again, too many horror movies. For some reason I thought that he must be older than that, by a few centuries at least. “What about Heero?” “He’s the same age.” Well, that was kind of cool. I liked having werewolves my own age. “When I was at your pack’s house the other day, I felt two people that weren’t like you. Can you tell me about them?” “We have two in the pack that are not wolves. One is a Shifter, and the other a clairvoyant.” Ah. That was why one of them looked similar to the weres, and the other looked so very different. “Got it. Trowa, I have little idea of protocol here, so you have to tell me—is it rude to be asking these sorts of questions?” “Some find it offensive,” Trowa admitted. “I don’t mind, though. I know it’s not malicious or derogatory, you’re just trying to get your bearings.” Get my bearings, was it? That was a very apt way of putting it. “I do feel like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole,” I told him deadpanned. “I’m just waiting for the Mad Hatter to show up.” “You’ve already met him.” At my blank look he smirked. “Wait until you really get to know our Packmaster, and you’ll see what I mean.” Somehow…that thought wasn’t comforting. By that point we arrived at school. Trowa was visibly uneasy about separating to go to classes, but he did go. Me? I paid little attention to my teachers. I was too busy wondering about this supernatural world I had stumbled across. + Neither of them believed the story I told them about “just showing Trowa around”. Sally thought I was doing it to figure out why he was different, and Hilde thought I was after his hot ass. I didn’t correct either of them. When we got out of school Hilde dragged Sally off, snickering madly the entire way about Trowa walking me home. For once, I was grateful for her meddling tendencies. I’d thought of a whole new batch of questions to ask Trowa—and Heero, since he was walking with us. I waited until we were out of earshot of people before indulging my curiosity. “So…how many is in the pack?” I’d sensed thirty or so, but I had a feeling there were more lurking in the woodwork. It was Heero that answered. “One hundred and twenty-six.” My mind stuttered to a stop, dragging the body to a halt with it. “H-hundred…a-and…” I only felt thirty! And I know there was more than that, but that much?! Heero was rather amused at my reaction. “Most of us were at work or school when you visited.” That Packmaster of theirs is a brat! He knew I had jumped to the wrong conclusion, but had he corrected me? Oh no. I briefly burned over that before setting it aside and asking my next question. “How do you fit a hundred and twenty-six people in a two story house?” Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been my next planned question…who cares, it was still important. “We don’t.” Trowa was giving me the same amused look Heero was. So glad I was entertaining. My next trick will involve steam coming out of my ears. “We actually own about a hundred acres out there. The house you saw is the main house, where the Packmaster lives with a few other people. We have houses all through that area that we live in.” “Ah.” Okay, that made more sense than trying to cram a hundred something people into a two-story house. “This might be a weird question…but can I see one of you shift?” Trowa stopped dead, eyes wary. “Why?” “I’ve never seen a werewolf before,” I reminded him, trying hard to keep my voice and face neutral. “I want to see for myself what you look like.” Slowly the tension bled out of his body and he started walking again. “Alright. When we get to your house.” That sounded good to me. “Okay, next question. How do you establish who is Packmaster? Pure strength?” “Not necessarily. We won’t follow someone who is cruel, or puts our clan in danger constantly.” Heero’s smile at me was sharp and somewhat feral. A little disconcerting, that. “Don’t think our Packmaster is not the strongest, though. He can beat just about anyone.” “I rather assumed that. Just double-checking,” I assured him. Mental note: do not get into fight with Packmaster. “In all the stories and movies I’ve watched, they always have ranks underneath the Packmaster. Is that true, or is it Hollywood?” “True,” Trowa allowed. “To a degree. We don’t tear each other’s throats out to climb into a position of power, usually.” It was the ‘usually’ that gave me pause. “So how do you decide? And what ranks are there?” “Sometimes it comes down to a fight, but we know who’s stronger or weaker than we are. Most of the time it’s simply understood.” Heero gave me a sharp glance, amused in a dark way that wasn’t really reassuring. “Because of your power, you would be ranked just below the Packmaster.” I had no response to that except to gape at him stupidly. “Are you kidding? Holy smoke, you’re not kidding. Geez.” Second in rank to a bunch of werewolves? That was not one of my life’s ambitions, no. Trowa picked up the explanation smoothly. “The ranks go like this: Packmaster, El-Szen, Trion, and then simply packmate. Heero and I are Trion.” Int~eres~ting. I had third level people guarding me? “I’m assuming certain responsibilities come with each position?” “The Packmaster sees over everything, and protects the clan. El-Szen is his right hand, and helps him to safeguard the clan. The Trion are something like extra sets of hands for both Packmaster and El-Szen. We have the power to do what the Packmaster and El-Szen might not have the time to do.” “In other words, if something is broke, you guys fix it.” “It could be summed up in that way, yes.” A soft smile darted over Trowa’s face. “You have been thinking about this a lot.” “I’m trying to understand enough to make a decision,” I admitted. “The journals help, but Grandmother Anja didn’t record a lot of details when it came to the workings of a clan.” What she had written was interesting though. Her abilities had grown a great deal during that time as well, probably because she was using them on a constant basis, and she’d written very detailed explanations of how empathy worked, which I was grateful for. I was about three years into her living with the clan, and never once did she truly regret her decision. She did complain about not getting any sleep during a full moon…too much howling, apparently. The first month or so took a lot of adjustments for her, but after that, she had settled in quite well. At least according to the journal. It made me think that I wouldn’t regret it either, if I chose to join the pack. I wasn’t making a definite decision yet though. I wanted to see for myself how things would go. All three of us tensed at the same time. I don’t know what had suddenly popped up behind us, but I really didn’t like the feel of it. If a living being could be a black hole, then I had one right behind me. I turned sharply to Trowa, searching his face for any clue as to what that thing was. There was anger and worry brewing in his eyes. That pretty much answered whether it was dangerous or not. I went with the next important issue. “Can we outrun it?” “Perhaps,” Heero answered between clenched teeth. Uh…oh… The violence that lay dormant in both wolves suddenly flared to life. I was in awe of the sheer fury of it, washing over my sense like a typhoon. And they hadn’t even shifted over to their true form yet! Trowa caught my elbow, staring at me with urgency. “When I change over, I want you to climb onto my back and hold tight. We’re going to run for our territory. We’ll be safe inside our borders.” That sounded good on paper, but I wasn’t sure if it would work. “Can you outrun that thing with me on your back?” He hesitated, and I knew he wasn’t sure if he could or not. “I’ll delay it if he can’t,” Heero informed me quietly. “And will you survive that fight?” I didn’t want either of them hurt or dying to protect me. He nodded curtly, but I could sense a flash of uncertainty underneath. He wasn’t sure. I don’t do uncertainties. “Change over.” As they shed shirts and shoes, starting to change, I did something I’ve never done in my life. I called. I knew how this worked, in theory. Grandmother Anja was pretty good about empathy details, and she’d described it very precisely. I’d just never done it before. Never had the need. But now I reached out, to a dark vortex of power and violence, so strong it nearly bowled me over. I touched it once, and imprinted only one emotion: help. There was a surge of surprise from the Packmaster, but he sent back an acknowledgement (actually I think he was cussing up a blue streak) and then I withdrew, blinking back into focus. Trowa was…holy hell! Take a regular wolf. Multiply times ten. He was freakin’ huge! Heero was just as big! Trowa was a lighter brown, green eyes sparkling, Heero a dark brown with those wicked blue eyes. Some part of my brain kicked me and mentioned that we still had a Whatchamacallit heading for us. Okay, Quatre, marvel later. Two random thoughts connected: one, I could not imagine these two losing a fight with anything; two, what could possibly be so strong that it had them worried about surviving a confrontation? Suddenly, I was very nervous. Trowa crouched low so I could scramble onto his back. I tried not to cling too hard to his fur, but have a firm enough grip where I wouldn’t fall off either. Not an easy middle ground. When I was on, I tossed my backpack to the ground. The extra thirty pounds might make a difference in this race, and everything in there was replaceable. I leaned close as Trowa took off, feeling muscles bunch and stretch under my hands and between my legs. If we weren’t being chased, I would have been laughing in sheer enjoyment. Maybe I can talk Trowa into doing this again later, without any scary monsters. Over the wind rushing in my ears I called to them, “I contacted your Packmaster. He’s on his way.” There was a brief flash of surprise from both of them. Um…was I not supposed to do that? I couldn’t exactly ask now, but I was definitely going to ask later. We ran, and ran, passing things fast enough to make me think we could keep up with a moving vehicle easily. I extended my sense, keeping track of our pursuer. Just doing that was repulsive. Yuck. And as fast as we were running, it was catching up. Not good. I reached the other direction, feeling for the Packmaster. Oh good, he was close. Only about a block away from us and closing fast. Whooopee! The dangerous-whatever-it-is must have sensed something, because it sped up sharply. I risked a peek over my shoulder, sure that it was close enough to catch a glimpse. Immediately I wished I hadn’t. It was the stuff of nightmares, dark and so chaotic in appearance that my eyes couldn’t track it. I snapped my head back around, feeling sick to my stomach. I don’t know what that is, but I pray I never seen one like it again. Something dark and furry flew over my head. I knew without looking it was Duo. I didn’t look back, afraid that if I saw it again I would lose my lunch, but I heard a low growl of warning. The menace was so strong it made a shiver go up my spine. Heero pivoted sharply, running back to his Packmaster’s side, but Trowa didn’t even slow down. He kept running like his life depended on it. I just focused on holding on and not falling off his back. There wasn’t anything else I could do. A truck screeched to a halt beside us, catching my attention. Rashid was driving, and was gesturing sharply for us to get in. Trowa dropped immediately to his belly and let me off. I scrambled into the passenger seat, and felt the truck rock a little as Trowa jumped into the bed. We were off again with a squeal of tires, Rashid completely disregarding any posted speed limits. I was panting for breath like I had been the one running, adrenaline coursing through my system like living fire. “What was that thing?” I demanded of Rashid. “Chaos demon,” he answered shortly. “And it was after me, why?!” “Your power attracted it.” Rashid cast me a single glance before returning his eyes (thankfully) to the road. “It wanted to suck you dry.” All the blood drained from my face. Had this been what Trowa was referring to, last night? About things that would attack me? I didn’t ask what else might be out there that would like to have me for dinner. I wasn’t capable of handling the answers right then. “But why now?” “Haven’t you wondered why we didn’t sense you before?” Actually, now that he mentioned it, that was a valid point. “Er…why didn’t you?” “Your shields are multi-purpose. They shield you from people’s emotions, but they also shield your power—we can’t sense you when you’re shielding. Or at least, that’s how Meiran explained it to me.” I had been shielding my ability most of my life, except a quick occasional peek at someone. These past few days I had been using my ability more extensively…and that apparently was like setting a beacon off. I blanked the entire drive to the Packmaster’s house. The next thing that really registered was Rashid pulling me out of the cab, a worried look on his face. Okay, Quatre, pull yourself together. I shook my head to clear it, and tried to smile up at him. “I’m okay. Just… I think I’ve hit my weird shit tolerance level.” His face broke out into a grin. “I think you’re entitled too, Master Quatre. Come inside, we can wait for the Packmaster there.” I wouldn’t mind having a nice, comfortable place for my breakdown. Docilely I followed him inside, Trowa trailing behind me still in his fur. Rashid pushed me down onto a couch in the den, disappearing for a moment before bringing back a cup of steaming coffee. I took it gratefully, glad to see it was brewed strong and black. After a few sips Trowa reappeared, dressed in a pair of formfitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. It was like a changing of the guard, Rashid left as Trowa entered. He immediately came to me with worried eyes. In a soft, troubled voice I asked, “Is that what you meant last night, about creatures seeking to use me?” “Part of it.” That was the answer I was afraid of. There was no way in hell that I could protect myself from something like that. Dangerous took on a whole new meaning when faced with demons. Trowa knelt down in front of me, putting me level with his eyes. I looked at him, thought of the danger he had willingly put himself in just to keep me safe—and swallowed hard. “Trowa. I cannot possibly be worth it.” “Yes you are,” he negated with a slight smile. “If we are the creatures of the night, then you are the light. We will gladly pay in pain and blood to keep you safe.” I couldn’t just sit there and be protected. It went against everything in me. I had to give something back—do something to even the scales. Apparently, a Raberba really couldn’t stand aside and do nothing. For better or worse, I was already a part of this pack. And it was damn time I stopped waffling and started acting like it. Reaching out, I touched his temples with gentle fingertips. Again, I had only a vague notion of what to do, but I went with what felt right. I let the feeling of peace and calm dance from my fingers, absorbing into his skin. Trowa’s eyes flared wide before slowly closing in pleasure. He leaned into my hands, and I think if he still had his tail it would have been wagging furiously. The raging feelings of aggression and protectiveness eased under my gentle assault, until Trowa was leaning completely against my leg in a light doze. Aww. He looks so cute. Actually, I rather like him in this position. I kept one hand idly stroking the side of his neck, soothing and easy. There was the sound of a truck door slamming, breaking the moment. The Packmaster was home. ~*~*~*~
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