Midsummer's Moon
Feb. 10th, 2008 07:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrPart I
Part II
Part Three: Waning Moon
Lowell made his way steadily back home, eagerly following the scent of his mate.
His territory was secured; no interlopers would enter it lightly. All signs of the recent intruder had been abolished. Mate and home were safe again.
Moon was high and bright in the sky, calling, loving. As he cleared the forest and crossed the creek, he paused at the base of the hill. Throwing his head back, he howled long and loud at Moon, expressing love and thanks and admiration.
As the howls slowly faded away into silence, he made his way swiftly up the hill to the porch.
His claws clicked on the porch as he lazily crossed it to where his mate sat against the railing, legs stretched out. Reaching his mate, Lowell pushed and rubbed and nuzzled. He chuffed as the affection was returned, hands petting and stroking and caressing. Giving one last nuzzle, he finally draped himself over his mate's legs, eyes closing as he relaxed. Moon and mate, home secured…
Rumbling softly, he allowed himself to slip into a light doze, just able to feel the hands that still petted and caressed.
The chirping of birds woke him, along with the feel of a breeze across his skin.
Lowell sat up with a start, overwhelmed by so many scents he did and did not recognize.
Peter was the most overwhelming of all. The window across the room was open, letting in the sounds and scents of outside. A trace of citrus, the faintest hint of the alcohol Peter had been drinking the other day.
His eyes widened as comprehension dawned. What was he doing in Peter's bedroom?
'Werewolf Dies of Mortification.'
He looked around despite himself, absorbing all he could of this piece of Peter he'd never seen before. The carpet was dark green, the furniture a warm, gold wood. There was a dresser, two nightstands, a large chest at the foot of the massive bed. To his left, on the same wall against which the bed was pushed, was the open window. Against the far left wall was a door that likely led to the bathroom. At the far end of the wall opposite the bed was the door to the hall.
On the walls…pictures…
Lowell pushed back the dark green coverlet and slowly climbed from bed. He paused briefly to admire that he was dressed in his usual sleep pants, and carefully did not think about the fact that he would have been naked when he changed back.
He moved to the nearest collage of pictures, at least two dozen of them neatly arranged. A man with gray-flecked hair who looked like Peter plus several years. A woman with dark, curly hair and a smile exactly like Peter's.
The couple stood with their hands resting on the shoulders of two young men – Peter was immediately recognizable, and Lowell could not tear his eyes away from the image of a Peter who could not be more than ten or so.
Finally he dragged his eyes away to look at the other boy. Two or three years older? He looked more like the mother, right up to the dark, curly hair.
Other pictures in the group showed them as wolves. Sharp. Dark brown-red fur, and they looked so happy all heaped together…and Peter sitting in the midst of them, smiling in his soft way. Lowell wondered if anyone else had ever thought he looked sort of sad, even as he rested his hands on the wolves lying around him.
Moving away from the collage, he examined next a picture of Peter and his brother. They were handsome children, about the same age as in the other pictures.
He moved to another one…this one a shot of three kids playing in the creek, wet and messy and happy. Peter, his brother, and a girl that looked like them except that her hair was a pale blonde.
So this was Peter's family? The werewolves that used to live here? Why had they left? More important, why hadn't Peter gone with them?
Wandering the room, he studied and memorized every picture available.
He jumped when the door opened, stumbling into the dresser, scrambling to catch the little box that nearly fell off when he knocked it. 'Werewolf Opposite of Sauve.'
"You're awake," Peter said with a smile. He was wearing his lab coat, and smelled like lavender and peppermint – so Ms. Holly had come around again.
"I, uh, I'm sorry. Why am I here? Is everything okay? Sorry, I was uh, looking at the, um, pictures."
Peter laughed softly, and pushed at his glasses. "You wouldn't leave my side last night. I went to bed and you hopped right up beside me."
"Oh," Lowell said faintly. 'Werewolf Dies of Embarrassment.' "Uh, sorry?"
Peter smiled. "There's coffee, if you like." He rolled his eyes. "My second pot this morning, I swear one day this town really will be sick and I won't believe them."
Lowell choked on a laugh. "That will teach them to cry wolf?"
"I cannot believe I just set myself up for that," Peter said with a groan. "I'm going downstairs before I get myself in further trouble." He looked at Lowell, then turned away, closing the door behind him.
Um.
'Wolf Forgets How to Breathe.'
He'd seen people look like that before but, uh, never at him.
Swallowing, Lowell moved to the door and made certain the hallway was clear, then bolted for his room.
An hour later, showered and dressed, he almost felt normal enough to go downstairs without doing something stupid.
No one was in the kitchen, but a cup of coffee waited for him. Smiling, he picked it up and wandered toward the clinic, sipping carefully.
Three women were in the clinic, one of them not entirely human, and to judge from the smell none of them would mind if Peter suggested a very thorough, very private physical. He growled softly to himself, but felt no real threat.
Not when he was still trying very hard not to think about that Look Peter had given him. Part of him wondered if someone had been standing behind him. Another part of him was excited and anticipating…but neither part knew what, precisely, he was anticipating.
Oh, he wasn't wholly ignorant. He wondered now if his being this alpha thing was the reason no one had ever actually propositioned him, unkempt appearance and smell notwithstanding.
Pushing open the door that connected house to clinic, Lowell took another sip of coffee and watched the proceedings.
The women he'd smelled were clustered around Peter, talking roughly ninety miles an hour – with hand gestures to match. Lowell caught snippets of what seemed to be six different conversations at once, stuff about volleyball and bakesales and knitting and a store on fire, something about a ghost…
But his eyes were only for the beleaguered doctor – his doctor, though he still had trouble believing his own thoughts.
Peter looked up and smiled at him, pushing absently at his glasses.
Abruptly the conversation ceased, and as one the three women turned around.
He may be an alpha, but he didn't think even one of those was any match for Women In Search of Fresh Gossip.
"Aren't you a cutie," one cooed, reaching up to pat Lowell's cheek. The others made equally horrifying noises around her, and Lowell fought an urge to turn and run.
"Ladies," Peter said patiently, moving around them to lightly settle an arm around Lowell's waist.
Suddenly Lowell ceased to care one bit about the busybodies assaulting him. He was aware only of that arm, the warmth of his mate – wow was that a heady thought, and he was slowly getting used to thinking it – and of the look Peter had given him not so long ago.
Were they maybe moving too fast? Was any of this real?
Of course, they were ignoring the problems that had not gone away with Stacey…but Lowell was more than content to ignore them for now.
"He's just woken up, let's not overwhelm him, shall we?" Peter said with a laugh. "What health problems did you say you were having?" He asked.
The ladies laughed amongst themselves. "I think we've been cured. Your beau is very handsome, Doctor."
"Thank you," Peter said with a smile. "Now go and report to your mistress, since she didn't get anything out of me this morning."
Cackling, the ladies swiftly obeyed, door slamming shut behind them in their hurry to leave.
Lowell stared after them, coffee mostly forgotten in his hands. "You're, uh, going to be busy today."
"Probably," Peter said, mouth quirking. Then the happy expression abruptly died. "Hopefully in pleasant ways."
"Stacey," Lowell said, his own levity fading.
"Yes," Peter said with a sigh.
Lowell bit his lip, wanting to know but hating to bring up something that obviously caused Peter so much pain – yet now that he was awake, and dressed, and had caffeine in his system…last night had been the full moon. Peter had been bitten before that.
By all rights, he should have turned into a wolf. Why hadn't he?
That wasn't the only question he had surrounding Peter. What about all those pictures upstairs? Where was Peter's family? Why had they left? Why was Peter still here, and so painfully alone?
Did it really matter?
Lowell shook his head. No, it didn't, except that he wanted to know everything about Peter. He wanted to understand this man who somehow, someway, apparently belonged to him…
The thought made his mouth dry. Mate. What, uh, exactly did that mean?
"You look as though your thoughts are giving you quite the headache," Peter said softly.
"They are," Lowell said, shaking his head again, taking a sip of coffee to hide his embarrassment. "I don't know where to start."
Peter moved away to lean against a desk that was cluttered with paperwork and files. He pulled off his glasses and set them aside on top of the papers. "I am surprised you do not start with me."
Lowell shrugged. "It makes you unhappy. Dealing with me is enough for now." He grimaced. "I don't get why I'm this alpha thing. I'm not…bossy or anything."
"You'll grow into it," Peter said. "That your instinct is to command, to take charge, says that loud and clear. It suits you, or will, once you get comfortable with the idea."
"I'm never going to get comfortable with it," Lowell muttered, drinking more of his coffee. He shied away from thinking of how he'd ordered Stacey to get a glass, the way he'd thrown him out with a promise to kill.
He didn't threaten people. Ever.
"A wise leader," Peter said softly, "knows when to use his authority, and when not. That you never forced the issue says that you have always known your power, if only on a subconscious level. Perhaps you feared abusing your power – because more than merely werewolves will listen if you give an order and compel the listener to obey."
Lowell blinked at that, and went to drink more coffee, only to realize he'd emptied his mug. Drat. He thought about excusing himself to get more, but realized it was just a feeble attempt at running away.
What he really wanted was the nerve to ask about the whole mate thing. Cause it was pretty obvious what all that meant, especially when his stupid wolf form insisted on sleeping in Peter's bed – his cheeks burned just thinking about it – but oh man did he feel like the loser he was when he thought about it.
Ugh.
Peter smiled at him, that easy, gentle way he had that just made everything so much better. When he held out a hand, Lowell could not resist and went toward it, settling his own, Peter's hand soft and warm.
"Your thoughts are plain upon your face, Low," he said with another soft laugh.
"Oh," Lowell said, feeling stupid. "I, uh, am sorry for being such an idiot."
Peter squeezed his hand and tugged him closer still, and Lowell barely noticed when his coffee mug was taken and set aside. "You're not an idiot. Nothing more than overwhelmed. The past few days have been a little much. Most people would have gone insane, I think."
"I, uh, don't see how, um, all this…uh…" He shook his head, wishing his cheeks would cool down cause he felt dumb enough. "I don't see how it's possible."
Or why Peter would want someone like him. He was older, and his former lovers – Lowell ignored the angry jealousy that flared up – had probably all been his age and handsome and experienced and definitely not dumb homeless kids who didn't understand how to be what they were.
"To be honest, I wonder that myself," Peter replied.
Oh. Lowell told himself he shouldn't feel dejected. Of course Peter would wonder why he was apparently mate to a dumb homeless kid.
"A purebred alpha could do far better for a mate than a small town doctor with mediocre alchemical abilities," Peter continued. He reached up with both hands to lightly cup Lowell's face, tilting it up, thumbs brushing his cheeks "Once you are fully come into your power, and comfortable with it, you will be quite the unstoppable force. Whatever you want, Low, you could very likely have."
Lowell tried to focus on speaking, but awareness of Peter filled his senses – the smell of him, the way their scents combined, the gentle stroking of fingers across his face, the pretty eyes free of the shielding spectacles.
"Um…uh…I've been all over," he finally managed. "Maybe it takes me being eighteen for this alpha thing to kick in…but if I'd seen something I wanted, surely I would have stuck with it? I don't know, I'm just a stupid kid way in over his head."
Peter smiled. "Hardly. Anyway, at the moment I'm rather cheating."
"Uh…" Lowell swallowed again. "That's okay. I, uh, kind of, um, like the cheating."
"Oh?" Peter asked softly.
"Y-yeah," Lowell replied, voice just as soft, and he thought he might have moved first but it was hard to tell for certain and then he stopped caring.
He didn't know how kisses were supposed to be, but he rather thought this was a good one – well, Peter was good. Lowell copied the motions, making a sound that might have been a whimper, unconsciously pressing closer, hands flexing uncertainly even as he tamped down on the part of him that wanted to push Peter down.
Then hands latched onto his arms and guided, until he wrapped his arms around Peter's neck, felt Peter's slide around his own waist, and the kiss paused briefly before turning into another, and another after that, until Lowell thought he was rather starting to get the hang of it.
Peter's hands smoothed lightly up and down his back, just barely touching skin where Lowell's t-shirt was slightly bunched up. Lowell shivered, and kissed harder, digging his own fingers into Peter's so-soft hair
He jumped when the phone abruptly rang, jerking back, eyes wide. The phone rang again, the sharp sound loud and near-painful after the near-perfect silence. Lowell licked his lips and cleared his throat, watching as Peter glared at the phone beside him and snatched it from the cradle.
"What?" Peter snapped. He frowned. "Are you sure? Damn it." He sighed and fumbled for his glasses as he hung up the phone, shoving them back on his face.
Lowell tamped down on his disappointment that there would be no more kisses. "What's wrong?"
"That was Jordan," Peter replied. "Apparently Sally put the town on alert. Jordan just called to say that someone saw Stacey and two other men driving through town – headed this way."
"I see," Lowell said, rage beginning to simmer. He had told Stacey not to come back, and he very much intended to kill the bastard this time.
No one was going to hurt his mate. He would not permit it.
That forced him to consider the questions he had been avoiding so far. "Why does he hate you so much? Because the experiments didn't work? Is that all?"
"I think you can guess the other reason," Peter said quietly, resting a hand on his arm, right over the wound that Lowell knew was there beneath the white lab coat.
He licked his lips, tasting Peter on them, and it was enough to steady him. "You don't turn into a wolf. Why?"
Peter laughed, though to Lowell's ears it sounded more like he was crying. "I don't know. I never have. They never forgave me for it, and they probably never will. I didn't know, it wasn't my fault…but they blame me all the same." He looked up, smile so sad it hurt, eyes dark with pain as he looked pleadingly at Lowell. "I am a werewolf…or should be…but…" He drifted off, turning away.
Fear. Lowell could smell the fear on him as plainly as he'd been able to smell the lust only minutes ago. He hated it. His mate should not smell so, not where he was concerned. Peter was his, and had nothing to fear from him. "But what?"
Drawing a shaky breath, Peter continued. "I'm immune to silver. For some reason, that immunity blocks the werewolf in me. I have improved senses, though not as good as those of a true werewolf. My adoration for the moon is the same… I can't change, that's all." He laughed bitterly, voice full of self loathing as he held tightly to his wound and stared at the floor, hair falling in his face. "I'm everything you and every other werewolf wants to be, probably much like humans wanted to be when they first began experimenting on werewolves. By sheer dumb luck, and I can't figure out how to recreate it, how to copy what I am to share with other werewolves…and so they all hate me for it, when they realize what's wrong with me."
Oh. Jeez. Uh.
"How, uh, is that possible?"
"I don't know," Peter said quietly, pushing at his glasses, eyes still on the floor. "I've tried to figure it out most of my life, from the moment I realized that I was the true freak. Everything a werewolf wants is in me, and I can't figure it out."
He slowly looked up, and Lowell couldn't bear it. Moving forward, he threw his arms around Peter and held him tight.
Not so long ago, only a few days really, he would have been insanely jealous and bitter. He knew it. Peter had the right of it – he was exactly what Lowell had always wanted to be. A werewolf that didn't have to fear changing. He was, in every way that counted, normal.
Now, though…Lowell tried to figure out when he'd stopped caring about being a werewolf. Maybe the point he realized he wasn’t alone.
"It's okay," he said quietly.
Peter was stiff in his arms, then suddenly just…melted. Lowell held all the tighter, breathing in the way their scents mingled, still tasting a hint of Peter on his tongue. Peter held him just as tightly, trembling slightly.
Lowell could understand. Until Peter, he'd been a freak too.
Soft, warm lips brushed against his throat, and suddenly it was his turn to shiver. "Peter…"
"I think," Peter said softly, pulling away to look at him, "that perhaps we are even more well-suited than either of us realized. You…truly do not hate me for being what you cannot?"
Lowell stared at him. "You don't hate me. How could I hate you? Uh, and it's, um, sort of hard to be mad about being someone who can, um, apparently give orders that people can't refuse. 'Werewolf Rules World' like, yeah?" He flushed as he realized he'd just spoken one of his dumb headline things aloud.
Peter laughed, then dipped his head and brushed a soft kiss across Lowell's lips.
It didn't stay soft long, and Lowell pressed closer, held tighter – then broke away with a frustrated, angry snarl as unwelcome scents caught his attention. He squeezed Peter's shoulders, then tore away to bolt across the room and throw himself outside.
A fancy-looking, dark blue car pulled into Peter's driveway.
He wished it were evening, because the drinkers would make good backup – but the werewolves probably knew that, and had chosen the daylight for a reason.
Well, it didn't matter. He didn't need drinkers to take care of a bunch of foolish, disobedient mongrels. They would obey or die, that was the law of Moon.
Growling softly, skin prickling as he tensed to change should it be necessary, Lowell stalked across the yard as the werewolves climbed out of the car.
He recognized Stacey immediately, but ignored him for the time being. That one knew he was as good as dead, let him wait for it. No, he was more interested in the two that smelled like his mate and yet not.
The taller of the two had a mop of curly dark hair, and eyes exactly like Peter's, though his looks were rather more on the pretty side than Peter's quiet handsomeness. The second one looked a lot like Peter, except his hair was pale blonde, eyes dark brown. Lowell recalled him from a few of the pictures, and always the little boy was with a little girl of the same hair and eyes. There had also been a picture of the brothers with her, playing in the creek.
"You are not welcome here," he said, "if you have only come to cause harm. Leave." He said the words softly, without much force – but that would change if they proved to be problematic, as they likely would.
The one that could only be Peter's brother stepped forward. "You're the jailbait Stacey mentioned."
"My name is Lowell, and you will use it," Lowell said, this time putting true command behind the words, forcing them to obey him.
All three werewolves looked at him in surprise.
"Tell me your names," Lowell ordered. "You are Peter's brother…and you must be a cousin or something."
"That's right," said the brother. "My name is Connor. This is Antonio…the sister of Anita, for whose death Peter is responsible."
Lowell growled. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Because it's true," Antonio snapped. "Now we hear from Stacey that he is playing around with cures and such. That freak – can he not leave well enough alone? How many more wolves is he going to hurt?"
"It was an accident," Peter said from behind Lowell.
"I remember it," Connor snapped. "You shoved her so the wolf wouldn't bite you."
"Stop it!" Lowell bellowed. He pointed at the three werewolves. "Do not speak. Do not move. Do nothing until I give you leave."
They glared at him, all but vibrating with fury – but they did not defy him.
Lowell trembled, both with the realization that he really did have such authority – and that he apparently had no qualms about using it. He turned to Peter. "What is going on here? Why do they hate you? Why…why are you alone, Peter?"
"You were looking at my pictures," Peter said with a sad sigh. "Do you remember the little girl in many of them?"
"Yes."
Peter pushed at his glasses. "Her name was Anita," he said softly. "She was my cousin, and probably we all were half in love with her. A sweeter girl was never born, and she likely would have become a fine woman. Like me, she was born human, though the rest of our families are werewolves. Unlike me, she was completely human…and back then, everyone thought me the same…"
He sighed softly. "Many werewolf parents, when they give birth to a human child, bite it so that it will fit in with the rest of the family. My parents, as well Anita's, saw no reason to do that – mostly because it is always a gamble. There is no guarantee the change will take well. So we grew up the only humans…"
Silence fell, and Lowell moved closer, reaching out to hold fast to Peter's hand.
That got him a weak smile, and Peter resumed speaking, the words coming slowly. "One night we were playing; it was summer, we always stayed out late then. A full moon night, and Anita and I loved to play with our siblings in wolf form. But that night…a…strange wolf…came out of nowhere. He was…not right…"
Peter was lying. Lowell knew it immediately. Something in what he said was not true, but the look in Peter's eyes gave him pause. He let Peter keep speaking.
"The wolf came after us," Peter said quietly. "We couldn't find our siblings or parents, so we started running for my house. I guess Connor showed up at some point in there, because he saw what happened next…sort of…"
He looked toward his brother, who glared hatefully back – but did not speak.
"I tripped," Peter said. "A branch, a root, I don't know what it was, but I tripped on it and groped blindly for balance – accidentally grabbing Anita. The wolf lunged then, and wound up biting her."
"Instead of you!" Connor suddenly snarled. "You didn't trip. You grabbed her and threw her in the wolf's path so you could get away."
Lowell spun around and snarled. "I said be silent, mongrel, unless you want to feel the full force of my anger."
Connor stared at him, eyes wide. "What are you?"
"He's purebred," Peter said quietly. "A purebred alpha."
"How can someone that small be an alpha?"
"How can something so big and pretty be so stupid?" Lowell retorted. "Be quiet."
Connor snapped his mouth shut and stood silent.
Lowell growled a low approval and turned back to Peter. "So what happened?"
"She was infected by the bite," Peter said tiredly. "She didn't take well to it, not at all. In theory, she should have…but for reasons unknown it was simply too much for her. At the next full moon, she turned into a wolf and went completely crazy. She badly wounded both my mother and me…"
Peter's face contorted with pain. "My mother died…and I took a long time to heal…and when the next full moon came around, I did not change." He stared at the ground. "No one could ever forgive me that." He looked at his brother, who stared hatefully back. Turning away, Peter stared off into the woods, voice barely audible as he resumed speaking. "My father couldn't bear to live without my mother…he wasted away after a few months. My uncle and aunt could not stand to be here anymore, and they hated the sight of me. So too my cousin and big brother. Six months after Anita was bitten, everyone but me moved away, and since then no werewolves have lived in Midsummer."
"You're trying to find a cure so there are no more Anita's," Lowell said.
"Yes," Peter said softly.
"Liar," Stacey said hatefully. "You torture werewolves and make empty promises about cures because you want to be a werewolf yourself."
Peter flinched, and did not say anything.
"So what?" Lowell asked. He refused to be nervous, refused to be his stupid timid self. No. His mate needed him, that was all that mattered. He knew what it was like to be hated and feared, he wouldn't permit these foolish wolves to treat his mate that way. Not in his territory. "Most werewolves want to be human. Why do you hate a human for wanting to be a werewolf, when all the people he loves are werewolves and he is not? You hold his humanity against him, yet also hate him for wanting to fit in?"
"He's the reason my sister is dead," Antonio snarled. "He let her get bitten, when if he had taken the bite all would have been fine."
Lowell glared at him. "No one knew that at the time."
"Yet if he wanted so badly to be a wolf," Connor broke in coldly, "why not let the wolf bite him?"
"We were children," Peter said, voice full of pain. "It was an accident. We were scared and running in the dark, Connor. I tripped. That was all. Anita never hated me for it, so why do you? Why…why was she so willing to forgive me, and the rest of you were only willing to hate me?"
He closed his eyes, reaching up to pinch the space between them, the gesture pushing his glasses up. "Everyone but mother and Anita hated me after that, and it was just a fucking accident."
Lowell ached to hold him close, to banish Peter's pain in whatever way he could.
Instead he forced himself to focus. He was an alpha, that meant he had to do something to fix all this, right?
"Why are you here?" he asked. "If you're only here to cause more pain, or because you listened to him, then leave." He looked at Stacey. "You are fortunate you are not already dead. Peter keeps me from doing it, because it would make him unhappy were I to kill you, but I was not bluffing when I said I would. Do you understand me, wolf?"
"Yes," Stacey snarled, and Lowell was gratified to see that he did in fact seem a bit pale.
Lowell turned to Connor. "Tell me why you are here."
"Because he's hurting other wolves, making empty promises of cures."
"No," Lowell said. "He never said anything except that he was trying to make a cure. The wolves who helped him grew impatient and angry and left. That one," he pointed to Stacey, "was also his lover, though he did not deserve to be, and broke it off because Peter did not develop the cure as quickly as Stacey though he should. So Stacey went around telling every werewolf he saw that Peter had a cure. Stacey is the liar, not Peter."
Connor was silent.
Antonio stirred. "He has no fucking right to meddle. Everything would have been better if he'd been the one bitten that night. It's his fault my sister is dead, and now he's making more suffer." He glared hatefully at Peter. "Why did you have to be a freak? Why is she dead while you're still alive?"
Peter said nothing, merely continued to stare miserably at the ground.
"Why are you such jerks?" Lowell demanded. "You're family. You were all a bunch of kids. I don't understand it." He balled his hands into fists. "All my life I've been homeless, unwanted, a fucking freak no matter how hard I tried to work or how nice I tried to be. No one wanted me, no one would give me a chance. I knew nothing about my own damned Lycanthropy until I came here." At least he'd finally remembered the stupid word. "I didn't know werewolves could have real families and stuff. Yet the first family I learn about….and you're all torn apart because of stupidity and childhood and mistakes."
He licked his lips, refusing to be nervous, not when Peter hurt so badly. "You should understand better than anyone about being a freak, about not being able to control everything…yet you hurt the person who most needs you, who always loved you…and still does. He has the pictures in his room, he never forgot any of you, and here you come to be total assholes. I've been beaten up by cops who are nicer than you three."
Connor and Antonio remained unmoved, and beside them Stacey was looking entirely too smug.
"Fine," Lowell said quietly. "If you will not listen to reason, then you will learn the hard way.
He licked his lips again, and wondered who it was speaking – surely not him. Had he ever talked this much in his entire life? When had he gotten so damned bossy and stuff? 'Werewolf Suffers From Split Personalities; At Least Three Have Introduced Themselves.'
Swallowing, hands still fisted at his side, he turned to Peter. Oh, he really fucking hated himself for this. He couldn't ignore his instincts however, not when he was this riled – and it was more than a little disconcerting that more and more he was getting comfortable with his instincts, with…being an alpha, he guessed. 'Wolf Goes To Bed Wuss, Wakes up Badass; Experts Mystified.'
"Peter," he said quietly. "Tell the truth."
"No," Peter said, eyes dark and pleading behind the glasses. "I promised. Please, Low…"
Lowell shook his head, feeling awful but he would not back down, no matter how much he loved his mate. "I'm ordering you to tell the truth. I know you were lying about what happened that night."
"Oh, please," Antonio said.
"Be quiet," Lowell bellowed, turning around. "I grow tired of your defiance, mongrel. Disobey me one more time and I will rip your tongue out. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yeah," Antonio stuttered, clearly taken aback.
Lowell growled. "I said, do you understand me?"
Antonio swallowed, then slowly nodded. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" Lowell asked softly, but coldly.
"Yes, master," Antonio said.
Growling again, he turned back to Peter, reaching up to snag the front of his shirt, yanking him close, tugging him down to kiss Peter hard, wishing he were better at it – but it was enough. "Tell the truth," he repeated.
Peter nodded, looking sick. "It…it wasn't a strange wolf that attacked us." He spoke haltingly, as though it were difficult to say each word. "We were playing in a favorite field, waiting for Toni and Connor to show up. We saw Toni, finally, and ran toward him…"
He looked away, making a rough sound. "Something was wrong with him. He growled at us, but in a mean way, not his usual playful way… We got scared and started running. He chased us…"
"What?" Antonio demanded – then fell silent at a look from Lowell.
Peter kept talking, the words coming faster now, as if suddenly he could not stop, like water from a broken dam. "I tripped, he wound up biting Anita…then Connor showed up, and he was acting funny too, though not as badly as Toni… My mother found us shortly thereafter. After everyone was in bed, I sat in the living room unable to sleep. She asked me what happened, and told me that she'd smelled wolfsbane on Toni and Connor. Especially on Toni. She said it was what made them go crazy, made Toni so scary and violent…and that likely neither of them would remember much, if anything, come morning."
He made a sound like a choked-off sob. "The next day, she went off to find the wolfsbane and destroy it. She made me promise not to tell anyone, explaining that there was likely going to be enough pain for everyone without telling them about the wolfsbane. It was an accident, she said, and children shouldn't be punished for accidents."
As his words faded away, Peter reached up to press at his eyes, again shoving up his glasses, and this time Lowell could see he was fighting tears.
Still holding fast to Peter with one hand, he turned back to the silent, pale-faced werewolves.
"Would you like to speak now?" he asked quietly.
"That can't be," Antonio said, shouting the words, voice shaky. "I would never hurt my little sister. He's a liar!"
"No," Lowell said sharply. "He speaks the truth, I know he does and you know I do not lie. Tell me that you realize this, mongrels. Now!"
"You're speaking the truth," Connor said, a choking sound to the words, his own eyes as dark now as Peter's had been throughout the conversation. He looked at his brother. "Oh, god, you're telling the truth."
Antonio sank to the ground, holding himself tight, looking ill and close to tears. "I killed my own sister…oh my god…I killed my own sister…it's my fault everything went to hell." He began to sob, burying his face in his hands.
Connor moved toward him and knelt, resting a hand on Antonio's shoulder – catching the hand that tried to shove him away, yanking Antonio close. "It was wolfsbane, Toni…not…" He stared hard at the ground, holding Antonio tightly, then slowly looked up at his brother. "It was an accident."
Peter nodded, then turned away and strode into the house.
Lowell looked at Connor. "Leave, all three of you. Come back when you are willing to act like pack." He looked at Stacey. "You are not welcome here. If I or the drinker ever sense your presence, you will be killed. Is that understood?"
Stacey nodded, and fumbled for his car keys, struggling to get in the car without tearing his eyes from Lowell.
He watched in silence as all three of them slowly got into the car, refusing to feel or say or do anything until they were well out of sight and the only scent of them was the lingering traces that would fade in time.
Then he bolted for the house, racing up the stairs and into Peter's bedroom. Peter lay on his back on the bed, an arm thrown over his face.
Lowell sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling sick and guilty and worried and hurting that Peter was in so much pain and he was the reason. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Because he was sorry for causing Peter pain – but he wasn't sorry he'd forced the truth.
"I promised her I wouldn't tell," Peter said, slowly dragging his arm away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I promised her that night, and again later when she was dying. She didn't want things to be worse."
He couldn't stand it. Moving on instinct, on the need to comfort, Lowell lay down alongside Peter and held him close. "It wasn't fair of her to make you promise," he said. "You were just a kid, yeah? You were all kids."
"But he shouldn't have to live with the fact he bit her," Peter said quietly.
"No," Lowell said, growling the words. "A good wolf accepts responsibility for his actions. He bit her, that was his mistake to bear – but it was her choice to endure or not. She was a weak wolf, and that is no one's fault but hers."
"Maybe…" Peter said, clearly unconvinced.
Lowell held him tight. What could he say? He knew things, and yet did not know them. Instinct only carried him so far. He was a wolf, but also a stupid homeless kid who didn't know anything.
Things should have gone differently all those years ago…but they hadn't. It wasn't fair that Peter be the only one to suffer, when he was apparently the one least responsible for anything.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked quietly.
Peter sighed softly. "I want to be…but…I was tired of holding the secret in…I just hate to see anyone in pain…"
"You shouldn't be in pain either," Lowell said. "Maybe everything will start to get better now."
"I hope so," Peter replied. "I—I just want my family back. Our parents are dead, but I know my aunt and uncle…and my brother…Toni…we used to be so close and they all hated me after that and I promised my mother—"
Lowell kissed him, heart beating fiercely in his chest. Beneath his hands, braced on Peter's chest, he could feel Peter's heart beating just as fast. His mouth was warm and willing, though, a desperate edge to the kiss.
One kiss turned into another, and gradually they shifted in tone from simple comfort to genuine heat. When at last they broke apart, Lowell felt hot and almost dizzy – and more than a little relieved that the light was back in Peter's eyes.
"A pity the circumstances were so grim," Peter said, familiar smile curving his mouth. "You are more than a little distracting when you are acting all alpha, Low."
Lowell flushed. "Uh, that's good, 'cause, um, I seem to, uh, like doing it?"
Peter laughed softly, hands moving to wrap around Lowell's waist, and Lowell about expired on the spot as he was pulled from lying alongside to Peter to fully atop him. He shifted, straddling Peter's legs, arms falling to rest awkwardly on either side of Peter's head. "How was I lucky enough to get you?" Peter asked.
"You, um, saved a drowning wolf from the rain?" Lowell answered. "I think I'm the lucky one, really." He licked his lips. "Maybe we're, um, really good for each other? Cause you know everything and I know nothing…and I'm good at making jerks go away and leave you alone, yeah?"
"Yeah," Peter said, the words little more than a whisper, his smile gentle and fond, arms a pleasant weight.
Lowell smiled back, and leaned down to kiss him again, barely able to believe everything was real and likely to stay that way. 'Werewolf Finds Happiness, World Cheers.'
Part II
Part Three: Waning Moon
Lowell made his way steadily back home, eagerly following the scent of his mate.
His territory was secured; no interlopers would enter it lightly. All signs of the recent intruder had been abolished. Mate and home were safe again.
Moon was high and bright in the sky, calling, loving. As he cleared the forest and crossed the creek, he paused at the base of the hill. Throwing his head back, he howled long and loud at Moon, expressing love and thanks and admiration.
As the howls slowly faded away into silence, he made his way swiftly up the hill to the porch.
His claws clicked on the porch as he lazily crossed it to where his mate sat against the railing, legs stretched out. Reaching his mate, Lowell pushed and rubbed and nuzzled. He chuffed as the affection was returned, hands petting and stroking and caressing. Giving one last nuzzle, he finally draped himself over his mate's legs, eyes closing as he relaxed. Moon and mate, home secured…
Rumbling softly, he allowed himself to slip into a light doze, just able to feel the hands that still petted and caressed.
The chirping of birds woke him, along with the feel of a breeze across his skin.
Lowell sat up with a start, overwhelmed by so many scents he did and did not recognize.
Peter was the most overwhelming of all. The window across the room was open, letting in the sounds and scents of outside. A trace of citrus, the faintest hint of the alcohol Peter had been drinking the other day.
His eyes widened as comprehension dawned. What was he doing in Peter's bedroom?
'Werewolf Dies of Mortification.'
He looked around despite himself, absorbing all he could of this piece of Peter he'd never seen before. The carpet was dark green, the furniture a warm, gold wood. There was a dresser, two nightstands, a large chest at the foot of the massive bed. To his left, on the same wall against which the bed was pushed, was the open window. Against the far left wall was a door that likely led to the bathroom. At the far end of the wall opposite the bed was the door to the hall.
On the walls…pictures…
Lowell pushed back the dark green coverlet and slowly climbed from bed. He paused briefly to admire that he was dressed in his usual sleep pants, and carefully did not think about the fact that he would have been naked when he changed back.
He moved to the nearest collage of pictures, at least two dozen of them neatly arranged. A man with gray-flecked hair who looked like Peter plus several years. A woman with dark, curly hair and a smile exactly like Peter's.
The couple stood with their hands resting on the shoulders of two young men – Peter was immediately recognizable, and Lowell could not tear his eyes away from the image of a Peter who could not be more than ten or so.
Finally he dragged his eyes away to look at the other boy. Two or three years older? He looked more like the mother, right up to the dark, curly hair.
Other pictures in the group showed them as wolves. Sharp. Dark brown-red fur, and they looked so happy all heaped together…and Peter sitting in the midst of them, smiling in his soft way. Lowell wondered if anyone else had ever thought he looked sort of sad, even as he rested his hands on the wolves lying around him.
Moving away from the collage, he examined next a picture of Peter and his brother. They were handsome children, about the same age as in the other pictures.
He moved to another one…this one a shot of three kids playing in the creek, wet and messy and happy. Peter, his brother, and a girl that looked like them except that her hair was a pale blonde.
So this was Peter's family? The werewolves that used to live here? Why had they left? More important, why hadn't Peter gone with them?
Wandering the room, he studied and memorized every picture available.
He jumped when the door opened, stumbling into the dresser, scrambling to catch the little box that nearly fell off when he knocked it. 'Werewolf Opposite of Sauve.'
"You're awake," Peter said with a smile. He was wearing his lab coat, and smelled like lavender and peppermint – so Ms. Holly had come around again.
"I, uh, I'm sorry. Why am I here? Is everything okay? Sorry, I was uh, looking at the, um, pictures."
Peter laughed softly, and pushed at his glasses. "You wouldn't leave my side last night. I went to bed and you hopped right up beside me."
"Oh," Lowell said faintly. 'Werewolf Dies of Embarrassment.' "Uh, sorry?"
Peter smiled. "There's coffee, if you like." He rolled his eyes. "My second pot this morning, I swear one day this town really will be sick and I won't believe them."
Lowell choked on a laugh. "That will teach them to cry wolf?"
"I cannot believe I just set myself up for that," Peter said with a groan. "I'm going downstairs before I get myself in further trouble." He looked at Lowell, then turned away, closing the door behind him.
Um.
'Wolf Forgets How to Breathe.'
He'd seen people look like that before but, uh, never at him.
Swallowing, Lowell moved to the door and made certain the hallway was clear, then bolted for his room.
An hour later, showered and dressed, he almost felt normal enough to go downstairs without doing something stupid.
No one was in the kitchen, but a cup of coffee waited for him. Smiling, he picked it up and wandered toward the clinic, sipping carefully.
Three women were in the clinic, one of them not entirely human, and to judge from the smell none of them would mind if Peter suggested a very thorough, very private physical. He growled softly to himself, but felt no real threat.
Not when he was still trying very hard not to think about that Look Peter had given him. Part of him wondered if someone had been standing behind him. Another part of him was excited and anticipating…but neither part knew what, precisely, he was anticipating.
Oh, he wasn't wholly ignorant. He wondered now if his being this alpha thing was the reason no one had ever actually propositioned him, unkempt appearance and smell notwithstanding.
Pushing open the door that connected house to clinic, Lowell took another sip of coffee and watched the proceedings.
The women he'd smelled were clustered around Peter, talking roughly ninety miles an hour – with hand gestures to match. Lowell caught snippets of what seemed to be six different conversations at once, stuff about volleyball and bakesales and knitting and a store on fire, something about a ghost…
But his eyes were only for the beleaguered doctor – his doctor, though he still had trouble believing his own thoughts.
Peter looked up and smiled at him, pushing absently at his glasses.
Abruptly the conversation ceased, and as one the three women turned around.
He may be an alpha, but he didn't think even one of those was any match for Women In Search of Fresh Gossip.
"Aren't you a cutie," one cooed, reaching up to pat Lowell's cheek. The others made equally horrifying noises around her, and Lowell fought an urge to turn and run.
"Ladies," Peter said patiently, moving around them to lightly settle an arm around Lowell's waist.
Suddenly Lowell ceased to care one bit about the busybodies assaulting him. He was aware only of that arm, the warmth of his mate – wow was that a heady thought, and he was slowly getting used to thinking it – and of the look Peter had given him not so long ago.
Were they maybe moving too fast? Was any of this real?
Of course, they were ignoring the problems that had not gone away with Stacey…but Lowell was more than content to ignore them for now.
"He's just woken up, let's not overwhelm him, shall we?" Peter said with a laugh. "What health problems did you say you were having?" He asked.
The ladies laughed amongst themselves. "I think we've been cured. Your beau is very handsome, Doctor."
"Thank you," Peter said with a smile. "Now go and report to your mistress, since she didn't get anything out of me this morning."
Cackling, the ladies swiftly obeyed, door slamming shut behind them in their hurry to leave.
Lowell stared after them, coffee mostly forgotten in his hands. "You're, uh, going to be busy today."
"Probably," Peter said, mouth quirking. Then the happy expression abruptly died. "Hopefully in pleasant ways."
"Stacey," Lowell said, his own levity fading.
"Yes," Peter said with a sigh.
Lowell bit his lip, wanting to know but hating to bring up something that obviously caused Peter so much pain – yet now that he was awake, and dressed, and had caffeine in his system…last night had been the full moon. Peter had been bitten before that.
By all rights, he should have turned into a wolf. Why hadn't he?
That wasn't the only question he had surrounding Peter. What about all those pictures upstairs? Where was Peter's family? Why had they left? Why was Peter still here, and so painfully alone?
Did it really matter?
Lowell shook his head. No, it didn't, except that he wanted to know everything about Peter. He wanted to understand this man who somehow, someway, apparently belonged to him…
The thought made his mouth dry. Mate. What, uh, exactly did that mean?
"You look as though your thoughts are giving you quite the headache," Peter said softly.
"They are," Lowell said, shaking his head again, taking a sip of coffee to hide his embarrassment. "I don't know where to start."
Peter moved away to lean against a desk that was cluttered with paperwork and files. He pulled off his glasses and set them aside on top of the papers. "I am surprised you do not start with me."
Lowell shrugged. "It makes you unhappy. Dealing with me is enough for now." He grimaced. "I don't get why I'm this alpha thing. I'm not…bossy or anything."
"You'll grow into it," Peter said. "That your instinct is to command, to take charge, says that loud and clear. It suits you, or will, once you get comfortable with the idea."
"I'm never going to get comfortable with it," Lowell muttered, drinking more of his coffee. He shied away from thinking of how he'd ordered Stacey to get a glass, the way he'd thrown him out with a promise to kill.
He didn't threaten people. Ever.
"A wise leader," Peter said softly, "knows when to use his authority, and when not. That you never forced the issue says that you have always known your power, if only on a subconscious level. Perhaps you feared abusing your power – because more than merely werewolves will listen if you give an order and compel the listener to obey."
Lowell blinked at that, and went to drink more coffee, only to realize he'd emptied his mug. Drat. He thought about excusing himself to get more, but realized it was just a feeble attempt at running away.
What he really wanted was the nerve to ask about the whole mate thing. Cause it was pretty obvious what all that meant, especially when his stupid wolf form insisted on sleeping in Peter's bed – his cheeks burned just thinking about it – but oh man did he feel like the loser he was when he thought about it.
Ugh.
Peter smiled at him, that easy, gentle way he had that just made everything so much better. When he held out a hand, Lowell could not resist and went toward it, settling his own, Peter's hand soft and warm.
"Your thoughts are plain upon your face, Low," he said with another soft laugh.
"Oh," Lowell said, feeling stupid. "I, uh, am sorry for being such an idiot."
Peter squeezed his hand and tugged him closer still, and Lowell barely noticed when his coffee mug was taken and set aside. "You're not an idiot. Nothing more than overwhelmed. The past few days have been a little much. Most people would have gone insane, I think."
"I, uh, don't see how, um, all this…uh…" He shook his head, wishing his cheeks would cool down cause he felt dumb enough. "I don't see how it's possible."
Or why Peter would want someone like him. He was older, and his former lovers – Lowell ignored the angry jealousy that flared up – had probably all been his age and handsome and experienced and definitely not dumb homeless kids who didn't understand how to be what they were.
"To be honest, I wonder that myself," Peter replied.
Oh. Lowell told himself he shouldn't feel dejected. Of course Peter would wonder why he was apparently mate to a dumb homeless kid.
"A purebred alpha could do far better for a mate than a small town doctor with mediocre alchemical abilities," Peter continued. He reached up with both hands to lightly cup Lowell's face, tilting it up, thumbs brushing his cheeks "Once you are fully come into your power, and comfortable with it, you will be quite the unstoppable force. Whatever you want, Low, you could very likely have."
Lowell tried to focus on speaking, but awareness of Peter filled his senses – the smell of him, the way their scents combined, the gentle stroking of fingers across his face, the pretty eyes free of the shielding spectacles.
"Um…uh…I've been all over," he finally managed. "Maybe it takes me being eighteen for this alpha thing to kick in…but if I'd seen something I wanted, surely I would have stuck with it? I don't know, I'm just a stupid kid way in over his head."
Peter smiled. "Hardly. Anyway, at the moment I'm rather cheating."
"Uh…" Lowell swallowed again. "That's okay. I, uh, kind of, um, like the cheating."
"Oh?" Peter asked softly.
"Y-yeah," Lowell replied, voice just as soft, and he thought he might have moved first but it was hard to tell for certain and then he stopped caring.
He didn't know how kisses were supposed to be, but he rather thought this was a good one – well, Peter was good. Lowell copied the motions, making a sound that might have been a whimper, unconsciously pressing closer, hands flexing uncertainly even as he tamped down on the part of him that wanted to push Peter down.
Then hands latched onto his arms and guided, until he wrapped his arms around Peter's neck, felt Peter's slide around his own waist, and the kiss paused briefly before turning into another, and another after that, until Lowell thought he was rather starting to get the hang of it.
Peter's hands smoothed lightly up and down his back, just barely touching skin where Lowell's t-shirt was slightly bunched up. Lowell shivered, and kissed harder, digging his own fingers into Peter's so-soft hair
He jumped when the phone abruptly rang, jerking back, eyes wide. The phone rang again, the sharp sound loud and near-painful after the near-perfect silence. Lowell licked his lips and cleared his throat, watching as Peter glared at the phone beside him and snatched it from the cradle.
"What?" Peter snapped. He frowned. "Are you sure? Damn it." He sighed and fumbled for his glasses as he hung up the phone, shoving them back on his face.
Lowell tamped down on his disappointment that there would be no more kisses. "What's wrong?"
"That was Jordan," Peter replied. "Apparently Sally put the town on alert. Jordan just called to say that someone saw Stacey and two other men driving through town – headed this way."
"I see," Lowell said, rage beginning to simmer. He had told Stacey not to come back, and he very much intended to kill the bastard this time.
No one was going to hurt his mate. He would not permit it.
That forced him to consider the questions he had been avoiding so far. "Why does he hate you so much? Because the experiments didn't work? Is that all?"
"I think you can guess the other reason," Peter said quietly, resting a hand on his arm, right over the wound that Lowell knew was there beneath the white lab coat.
He licked his lips, tasting Peter on them, and it was enough to steady him. "You don't turn into a wolf. Why?"
Peter laughed, though to Lowell's ears it sounded more like he was crying. "I don't know. I never have. They never forgave me for it, and they probably never will. I didn't know, it wasn't my fault…but they blame me all the same." He looked up, smile so sad it hurt, eyes dark with pain as he looked pleadingly at Lowell. "I am a werewolf…or should be…but…" He drifted off, turning away.
Fear. Lowell could smell the fear on him as plainly as he'd been able to smell the lust only minutes ago. He hated it. His mate should not smell so, not where he was concerned. Peter was his, and had nothing to fear from him. "But what?"
Drawing a shaky breath, Peter continued. "I'm immune to silver. For some reason, that immunity blocks the werewolf in me. I have improved senses, though not as good as those of a true werewolf. My adoration for the moon is the same… I can't change, that's all." He laughed bitterly, voice full of self loathing as he held tightly to his wound and stared at the floor, hair falling in his face. "I'm everything you and every other werewolf wants to be, probably much like humans wanted to be when they first began experimenting on werewolves. By sheer dumb luck, and I can't figure out how to recreate it, how to copy what I am to share with other werewolves…and so they all hate me for it, when they realize what's wrong with me."
Oh. Jeez. Uh.
"How, uh, is that possible?"
"I don't know," Peter said quietly, pushing at his glasses, eyes still on the floor. "I've tried to figure it out most of my life, from the moment I realized that I was the true freak. Everything a werewolf wants is in me, and I can't figure it out."
He slowly looked up, and Lowell couldn't bear it. Moving forward, he threw his arms around Peter and held him tight.
Not so long ago, only a few days really, he would have been insanely jealous and bitter. He knew it. Peter had the right of it – he was exactly what Lowell had always wanted to be. A werewolf that didn't have to fear changing. He was, in every way that counted, normal.
Now, though…Lowell tried to figure out when he'd stopped caring about being a werewolf. Maybe the point he realized he wasn’t alone.
"It's okay," he said quietly.
Peter was stiff in his arms, then suddenly just…melted. Lowell held all the tighter, breathing in the way their scents mingled, still tasting a hint of Peter on his tongue. Peter held him just as tightly, trembling slightly.
Lowell could understand. Until Peter, he'd been a freak too.
Soft, warm lips brushed against his throat, and suddenly it was his turn to shiver. "Peter…"
"I think," Peter said softly, pulling away to look at him, "that perhaps we are even more well-suited than either of us realized. You…truly do not hate me for being what you cannot?"
Lowell stared at him. "You don't hate me. How could I hate you? Uh, and it's, um, sort of hard to be mad about being someone who can, um, apparently give orders that people can't refuse. 'Werewolf Rules World' like, yeah?" He flushed as he realized he'd just spoken one of his dumb headline things aloud.
Peter laughed, then dipped his head and brushed a soft kiss across Lowell's lips.
It didn't stay soft long, and Lowell pressed closer, held tighter – then broke away with a frustrated, angry snarl as unwelcome scents caught his attention. He squeezed Peter's shoulders, then tore away to bolt across the room and throw himself outside.
A fancy-looking, dark blue car pulled into Peter's driveway.
He wished it were evening, because the drinkers would make good backup – but the werewolves probably knew that, and had chosen the daylight for a reason.
Well, it didn't matter. He didn't need drinkers to take care of a bunch of foolish, disobedient mongrels. They would obey or die, that was the law of Moon.
Growling softly, skin prickling as he tensed to change should it be necessary, Lowell stalked across the yard as the werewolves climbed out of the car.
He recognized Stacey immediately, but ignored him for the time being. That one knew he was as good as dead, let him wait for it. No, he was more interested in the two that smelled like his mate and yet not.
The taller of the two had a mop of curly dark hair, and eyes exactly like Peter's, though his looks were rather more on the pretty side than Peter's quiet handsomeness. The second one looked a lot like Peter, except his hair was pale blonde, eyes dark brown. Lowell recalled him from a few of the pictures, and always the little boy was with a little girl of the same hair and eyes. There had also been a picture of the brothers with her, playing in the creek.
"You are not welcome here," he said, "if you have only come to cause harm. Leave." He said the words softly, without much force – but that would change if they proved to be problematic, as they likely would.
The one that could only be Peter's brother stepped forward. "You're the jailbait Stacey mentioned."
"My name is Lowell, and you will use it," Lowell said, this time putting true command behind the words, forcing them to obey him.
All three werewolves looked at him in surprise.
"Tell me your names," Lowell ordered. "You are Peter's brother…and you must be a cousin or something."
"That's right," said the brother. "My name is Connor. This is Antonio…the sister of Anita, for whose death Peter is responsible."
Lowell growled. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Because it's true," Antonio snapped. "Now we hear from Stacey that he is playing around with cures and such. That freak – can he not leave well enough alone? How many more wolves is he going to hurt?"
"It was an accident," Peter said from behind Lowell.
"I remember it," Connor snapped. "You shoved her so the wolf wouldn't bite you."
"Stop it!" Lowell bellowed. He pointed at the three werewolves. "Do not speak. Do not move. Do nothing until I give you leave."
They glared at him, all but vibrating with fury – but they did not defy him.
Lowell trembled, both with the realization that he really did have such authority – and that he apparently had no qualms about using it. He turned to Peter. "What is going on here? Why do they hate you? Why…why are you alone, Peter?"
"You were looking at my pictures," Peter said with a sad sigh. "Do you remember the little girl in many of them?"
"Yes."
Peter pushed at his glasses. "Her name was Anita," he said softly. "She was my cousin, and probably we all were half in love with her. A sweeter girl was never born, and she likely would have become a fine woman. Like me, she was born human, though the rest of our families are werewolves. Unlike me, she was completely human…and back then, everyone thought me the same…"
He sighed softly. "Many werewolf parents, when they give birth to a human child, bite it so that it will fit in with the rest of the family. My parents, as well Anita's, saw no reason to do that – mostly because it is always a gamble. There is no guarantee the change will take well. So we grew up the only humans…"
Silence fell, and Lowell moved closer, reaching out to hold fast to Peter's hand.
That got him a weak smile, and Peter resumed speaking, the words coming slowly. "One night we were playing; it was summer, we always stayed out late then. A full moon night, and Anita and I loved to play with our siblings in wolf form. But that night…a…strange wolf…came out of nowhere. He was…not right…"
Peter was lying. Lowell knew it immediately. Something in what he said was not true, but the look in Peter's eyes gave him pause. He let Peter keep speaking.
"The wolf came after us," Peter said quietly. "We couldn't find our siblings or parents, so we started running for my house. I guess Connor showed up at some point in there, because he saw what happened next…sort of…"
He looked toward his brother, who glared hatefully back – but did not speak.
"I tripped," Peter said. "A branch, a root, I don't know what it was, but I tripped on it and groped blindly for balance – accidentally grabbing Anita. The wolf lunged then, and wound up biting her."
"Instead of you!" Connor suddenly snarled. "You didn't trip. You grabbed her and threw her in the wolf's path so you could get away."
Lowell spun around and snarled. "I said be silent, mongrel, unless you want to feel the full force of my anger."
Connor stared at him, eyes wide. "What are you?"
"He's purebred," Peter said quietly. "A purebred alpha."
"How can someone that small be an alpha?"
"How can something so big and pretty be so stupid?" Lowell retorted. "Be quiet."
Connor snapped his mouth shut and stood silent.
Lowell growled a low approval and turned back to Peter. "So what happened?"
"She was infected by the bite," Peter said tiredly. "She didn't take well to it, not at all. In theory, she should have…but for reasons unknown it was simply too much for her. At the next full moon, she turned into a wolf and went completely crazy. She badly wounded both my mother and me…"
Peter's face contorted with pain. "My mother died…and I took a long time to heal…and when the next full moon came around, I did not change." He stared at the ground. "No one could ever forgive me that." He looked at his brother, who stared hatefully back. Turning away, Peter stared off into the woods, voice barely audible as he resumed speaking. "My father couldn't bear to live without my mother…he wasted away after a few months. My uncle and aunt could not stand to be here anymore, and they hated the sight of me. So too my cousin and big brother. Six months after Anita was bitten, everyone but me moved away, and since then no werewolves have lived in Midsummer."
"You're trying to find a cure so there are no more Anita's," Lowell said.
"Yes," Peter said softly.
"Liar," Stacey said hatefully. "You torture werewolves and make empty promises about cures because you want to be a werewolf yourself."
Peter flinched, and did not say anything.
"So what?" Lowell asked. He refused to be nervous, refused to be his stupid timid self. No. His mate needed him, that was all that mattered. He knew what it was like to be hated and feared, he wouldn't permit these foolish wolves to treat his mate that way. Not in his territory. "Most werewolves want to be human. Why do you hate a human for wanting to be a werewolf, when all the people he loves are werewolves and he is not? You hold his humanity against him, yet also hate him for wanting to fit in?"
"He's the reason my sister is dead," Antonio snarled. "He let her get bitten, when if he had taken the bite all would have been fine."
Lowell glared at him. "No one knew that at the time."
"Yet if he wanted so badly to be a wolf," Connor broke in coldly, "why not let the wolf bite him?"
"We were children," Peter said, voice full of pain. "It was an accident. We were scared and running in the dark, Connor. I tripped. That was all. Anita never hated me for it, so why do you? Why…why was she so willing to forgive me, and the rest of you were only willing to hate me?"
He closed his eyes, reaching up to pinch the space between them, the gesture pushing his glasses up. "Everyone but mother and Anita hated me after that, and it was just a fucking accident."
Lowell ached to hold him close, to banish Peter's pain in whatever way he could.
Instead he forced himself to focus. He was an alpha, that meant he had to do something to fix all this, right?
"Why are you here?" he asked. "If you're only here to cause more pain, or because you listened to him, then leave." He looked at Stacey. "You are fortunate you are not already dead. Peter keeps me from doing it, because it would make him unhappy were I to kill you, but I was not bluffing when I said I would. Do you understand me, wolf?"
"Yes," Stacey snarled, and Lowell was gratified to see that he did in fact seem a bit pale.
Lowell turned to Connor. "Tell me why you are here."
"Because he's hurting other wolves, making empty promises of cures."
"No," Lowell said. "He never said anything except that he was trying to make a cure. The wolves who helped him grew impatient and angry and left. That one," he pointed to Stacey, "was also his lover, though he did not deserve to be, and broke it off because Peter did not develop the cure as quickly as Stacey though he should. So Stacey went around telling every werewolf he saw that Peter had a cure. Stacey is the liar, not Peter."
Connor was silent.
Antonio stirred. "He has no fucking right to meddle. Everything would have been better if he'd been the one bitten that night. It's his fault my sister is dead, and now he's making more suffer." He glared hatefully at Peter. "Why did you have to be a freak? Why is she dead while you're still alive?"
Peter said nothing, merely continued to stare miserably at the ground.
"Why are you such jerks?" Lowell demanded. "You're family. You were all a bunch of kids. I don't understand it." He balled his hands into fists. "All my life I've been homeless, unwanted, a fucking freak no matter how hard I tried to work or how nice I tried to be. No one wanted me, no one would give me a chance. I knew nothing about my own damned Lycanthropy until I came here." At least he'd finally remembered the stupid word. "I didn't know werewolves could have real families and stuff. Yet the first family I learn about….and you're all torn apart because of stupidity and childhood and mistakes."
He licked his lips, refusing to be nervous, not when Peter hurt so badly. "You should understand better than anyone about being a freak, about not being able to control everything…yet you hurt the person who most needs you, who always loved you…and still does. He has the pictures in his room, he never forgot any of you, and here you come to be total assholes. I've been beaten up by cops who are nicer than you three."
Connor and Antonio remained unmoved, and beside them Stacey was looking entirely too smug.
"Fine," Lowell said quietly. "If you will not listen to reason, then you will learn the hard way.
He licked his lips again, and wondered who it was speaking – surely not him. Had he ever talked this much in his entire life? When had he gotten so damned bossy and stuff? 'Werewolf Suffers From Split Personalities; At Least Three Have Introduced Themselves.'
Swallowing, hands still fisted at his side, he turned to Peter. Oh, he really fucking hated himself for this. He couldn't ignore his instincts however, not when he was this riled – and it was more than a little disconcerting that more and more he was getting comfortable with his instincts, with…being an alpha, he guessed. 'Wolf Goes To Bed Wuss, Wakes up Badass; Experts Mystified.'
"Peter," he said quietly. "Tell the truth."
"No," Peter said, eyes dark and pleading behind the glasses. "I promised. Please, Low…"
Lowell shook his head, feeling awful but he would not back down, no matter how much he loved his mate. "I'm ordering you to tell the truth. I know you were lying about what happened that night."
"Oh, please," Antonio said.
"Be quiet," Lowell bellowed, turning around. "I grow tired of your defiance, mongrel. Disobey me one more time and I will rip your tongue out. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yeah," Antonio stuttered, clearly taken aback.
Lowell growled. "I said, do you understand me?"
Antonio swallowed, then slowly nodded. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" Lowell asked softly, but coldly.
"Yes, master," Antonio said.
Growling again, he turned back to Peter, reaching up to snag the front of his shirt, yanking him close, tugging him down to kiss Peter hard, wishing he were better at it – but it was enough. "Tell the truth," he repeated.
Peter nodded, looking sick. "It…it wasn't a strange wolf that attacked us." He spoke haltingly, as though it were difficult to say each word. "We were playing in a favorite field, waiting for Toni and Connor to show up. We saw Toni, finally, and ran toward him…"
He looked away, making a rough sound. "Something was wrong with him. He growled at us, but in a mean way, not his usual playful way… We got scared and started running. He chased us…"
"What?" Antonio demanded – then fell silent at a look from Lowell.
Peter kept talking, the words coming faster now, as if suddenly he could not stop, like water from a broken dam. "I tripped, he wound up biting Anita…then Connor showed up, and he was acting funny too, though not as badly as Toni… My mother found us shortly thereafter. After everyone was in bed, I sat in the living room unable to sleep. She asked me what happened, and told me that she'd smelled wolfsbane on Toni and Connor. Especially on Toni. She said it was what made them go crazy, made Toni so scary and violent…and that likely neither of them would remember much, if anything, come morning."
He made a sound like a choked-off sob. "The next day, she went off to find the wolfsbane and destroy it. She made me promise not to tell anyone, explaining that there was likely going to be enough pain for everyone without telling them about the wolfsbane. It was an accident, she said, and children shouldn't be punished for accidents."
As his words faded away, Peter reached up to press at his eyes, again shoving up his glasses, and this time Lowell could see he was fighting tears.
Still holding fast to Peter with one hand, he turned back to the silent, pale-faced werewolves.
"Would you like to speak now?" he asked quietly.
"That can't be," Antonio said, shouting the words, voice shaky. "I would never hurt my little sister. He's a liar!"
"No," Lowell said sharply. "He speaks the truth, I know he does and you know I do not lie. Tell me that you realize this, mongrels. Now!"
"You're speaking the truth," Connor said, a choking sound to the words, his own eyes as dark now as Peter's had been throughout the conversation. He looked at his brother. "Oh, god, you're telling the truth."
Antonio sank to the ground, holding himself tight, looking ill and close to tears. "I killed my own sister…oh my god…I killed my own sister…it's my fault everything went to hell." He began to sob, burying his face in his hands.
Connor moved toward him and knelt, resting a hand on Antonio's shoulder – catching the hand that tried to shove him away, yanking Antonio close. "It was wolfsbane, Toni…not…" He stared hard at the ground, holding Antonio tightly, then slowly looked up at his brother. "It was an accident."
Peter nodded, then turned away and strode into the house.
Lowell looked at Connor. "Leave, all three of you. Come back when you are willing to act like pack." He looked at Stacey. "You are not welcome here. If I or the drinker ever sense your presence, you will be killed. Is that understood?"
Stacey nodded, and fumbled for his car keys, struggling to get in the car without tearing his eyes from Lowell.
He watched in silence as all three of them slowly got into the car, refusing to feel or say or do anything until they were well out of sight and the only scent of them was the lingering traces that would fade in time.
Then he bolted for the house, racing up the stairs and into Peter's bedroom. Peter lay on his back on the bed, an arm thrown over his face.
Lowell sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling sick and guilty and worried and hurting that Peter was in so much pain and he was the reason. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Because he was sorry for causing Peter pain – but he wasn't sorry he'd forced the truth.
"I promised her I wouldn't tell," Peter said, slowly dragging his arm away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I promised her that night, and again later when she was dying. She didn't want things to be worse."
He couldn't stand it. Moving on instinct, on the need to comfort, Lowell lay down alongside Peter and held him close. "It wasn't fair of her to make you promise," he said. "You were just a kid, yeah? You were all kids."
"But he shouldn't have to live with the fact he bit her," Peter said quietly.
"No," Lowell said, growling the words. "A good wolf accepts responsibility for his actions. He bit her, that was his mistake to bear – but it was her choice to endure or not. She was a weak wolf, and that is no one's fault but hers."
"Maybe…" Peter said, clearly unconvinced.
Lowell held him tight. What could he say? He knew things, and yet did not know them. Instinct only carried him so far. He was a wolf, but also a stupid homeless kid who didn't know anything.
Things should have gone differently all those years ago…but they hadn't. It wasn't fair that Peter be the only one to suffer, when he was apparently the one least responsible for anything.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked quietly.
Peter sighed softly. "I want to be…but…I was tired of holding the secret in…I just hate to see anyone in pain…"
"You shouldn't be in pain either," Lowell said. "Maybe everything will start to get better now."
"I hope so," Peter replied. "I—I just want my family back. Our parents are dead, but I know my aunt and uncle…and my brother…Toni…we used to be so close and they all hated me after that and I promised my mother—"
Lowell kissed him, heart beating fiercely in his chest. Beneath his hands, braced on Peter's chest, he could feel Peter's heart beating just as fast. His mouth was warm and willing, though, a desperate edge to the kiss.
One kiss turned into another, and gradually they shifted in tone from simple comfort to genuine heat. When at last they broke apart, Lowell felt hot and almost dizzy – and more than a little relieved that the light was back in Peter's eyes.
"A pity the circumstances were so grim," Peter said, familiar smile curving his mouth. "You are more than a little distracting when you are acting all alpha, Low."
Lowell flushed. "Uh, that's good, 'cause, um, I seem to, uh, like doing it?"
Peter laughed softly, hands moving to wrap around Lowell's waist, and Lowell about expired on the spot as he was pulled from lying alongside to Peter to fully atop him. He shifted, straddling Peter's legs, arms falling to rest awkwardly on either side of Peter's head. "How was I lucky enough to get you?" Peter asked.
"You, um, saved a drowning wolf from the rain?" Lowell answered. "I think I'm the lucky one, really." He licked his lips. "Maybe we're, um, really good for each other? Cause you know everything and I know nothing…and I'm good at making jerks go away and leave you alone, yeah?"
"Yeah," Peter said, the words little more than a whisper, his smile gentle and fond, arms a pleasant weight.
Lowell smiled back, and leaned down to kiss him again, barely able to believe everything was real and likely to stay that way. 'Werewolf Finds Happiness, World Cheers.'
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Date: 2008-02-11 12:42 am (UTC)*twirls you about* Lowell is just so utterly adorable. And he and Peter are just so cute and perfect together! ^_____^
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Date: 2008-02-11 12:48 am (UTC)Thank you for reading it ahead of time for me <<33 If I have the approval of the resident werewolf enthusiast, I am content.
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Date: 2008-02-11 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 01:46 am (UTC)I had a migraine before reading this story, but now I'm so hung up on it that I don't even notice. You are Awesome. :D
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Date: 2008-02-11 01:51 am (UTC)I am so giddy that this was a happy ending~! X3
-GAWD, Lowell is just about one of the funniest characters I've ever read. Unsecure Bad-Ass, right there. And GAH, Sally is just awesome in her own right. And poor little Peter having to live with all that sadness! ;____;
This story is just one big pot of AWESOME! With EXTRA CHEEEEEEEESE!!!
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Date: 2008-02-11 02:16 am (UTC)Poor Peter, having to keep a secret that tore his family apart. But now he has an adorable Alpha to kiss him and make it all better, yum.
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Date: 2008-02-11 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 02:24 am (UTC)I love Sally. I love Sally to itty bitty bits.
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Date: 2008-02-11 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 03:06 am (UTC)I am slayed with happiness!
^_______^
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Date: 2008-02-11 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 04:08 am (UTC)'Maderr Finishes Midsummer; Fans Worldwide Rejoice.'
Speaking of those headlines, they were a very awesome thread throughout the story, especially when Lowell accidentally says one aloud. I also really like how well this fits into the "Locke and Key" 'verse. And really: cute, funny, and thoroughly Maderr. *grins*
Definitely made my night about a thousand times better in an instant. Thanks! ^__^
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Date: 2008-02-11 04:26 am (UTC)I also seem to love caps lock. this really shouldn't end here. tis kind of just... ends... I feel like something should happen next, or there should be an epolog of some sort.
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Date: 2008-02-11 04:32 am (UTC)Also, I think I remember old wolf-form drabbles that were too damn cute for words. Do we get more of those sometime? :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
*loves you* I AM SO HAPPY MIDSUMMER IS COMPLETE~~~~~~~
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Date: 2008-02-11 04:58 am (UTC)There are no words. Only awe and 'awwww'. XD
This story was amazing. Lowell's alpha-ness was half hilarious (*snicker* The headlines. The headlines...) and half very hot. He and Peter make an awesome couple and I love the way werewolves in this 'verse work. I'm so glad you finished it (and sort of sad 'cuz now it's done, but c'est la vie).
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Date: 2008-02-11 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 09:30 am (UTC)oh..and i think there's a small error..?
"That's right," said the brother. "My name is Connor. This is [Antonio…the sister of Anita,] for whose death Peter is responsible.""
yeah..just caught that...
anyway, shall re-read the luffly story again~!
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Date: 2008-02-11 09:43 am (UTC)Also: if Toni and Connor haven't hooked up yet, they're going to.
Also: Plz to be redeeming Stacey in a future story.
I love this 'verse and the new version of these characters. I hope there will be Lowell cameos in future stories also.
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Date: 2008-02-11 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 11:40 am (UTC)Loved this. Lowell was so cute, slipping back and forth between his uncertain human persona to Alpha. You really should know that I love the smaller differences you put in your characters, as Lowell here with his little mental Headline one liners. Also, you were careful to give his speech an uncertainty to it with the "uh"s and "um"s. But where it mattered, taking responsibility for his mate and home, he was so up to the task. I can't wait for the drabbles...!
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Date: 2008-02-11 12:14 pm (UTC)Lowell's so fucking cute no srsly omfgbbqwtf. XDDD His 'um's and 'uh's are so frakking adorable. But One Thing - the headlines. The HEADLINES! OMG. My favorite has to be 'Wolf Goes To Bed Wuss, Wakes Up Badass; Experts Mystified.' His split personality! OMG! Pwnful Badass Alpha and cute-ex-homeless-werewolf OMG.
The part where he's a purebred Alpha of all things just made it. It fits him. <3 When he goes all Alpha it makes me squee.
I'm just gurgling with joy. He just makes me happy. MY HAPPY. <33
Peter's so sad. D= I'm so happy it was a happy ending. Then again it wouldn't be you without happy endings... :3 Low and Peter fit each other perfectly. x3 Drabbles. Drabbellsssss.
Stacey. o.o Somehow I can't help but feel sorry for him a little bit. He's a jerk, but. D=
And Sally just wins the world, man. She's be a cool great-great-great-great-great-grandma to have. x3
Um. Uh. Signing out now.
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Date: 2008-02-11 12:58 pm (UTC)I could kiss you. I will kiss you. *SMOOCH*
LOWELL HOW I MISSED YOU SO.
I loved how you made him think in newspaper headlines. I nearly died when you made him a bossy super wolf. I THINK I MAY HAVE TO MAKE ANOTHER ALTAR IN YOUR IMAGE AGAIN.
I'm trying to figure out where Clarence is from. Have you written about him already?
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Date: 2008-02-11 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 02:46 am (UTC)Lowell -- no, no, can't start with Lowell, I'll run into the character limit.
Sally, yes, there's a good place to start. I love how you managed to retain the hippie vampire from the first writing but mix it in with her being an awesome and long-living top vamp. I love the little details that got thrown in about her past -- that she'd been there since the start of Midsummer, her propensity for baking but her massive failures at cooking and coffee-making, that she's had other lovers (and husbands!) besides Jordan, but that they weren't right to turn. I love that there is a right type to turn, and that it applies to werewolves as well. Oh, and gah, your insinuations that vampires and werewolves are related just makes me happy (the silver, and the nighttime, oh, and the poor werewolves being reduced in number through vampiric jealousy, and, and, and, yeah, I totally bow to your mad world-building skillz.)
I like too, the friendly antagonism between Sally and Peter, and the way she and Jordan just waltz right into Peter's house/clinic without so much as a "by your leave." (Heh, I cracked up when Sally went grocery shopping in Peter's kitchen. For the children's school fair.)
The gossipy not-sick women who kept visiting were all kinds of awesome too. Small-town ftw. ^____^ (::dies of giggles again:: And Lowell's crying wolf comment!)
Peter... I love and adore how easily he gives Lowell a place in his home. That even the first night he simply brings home the poor drowning wolf and gives him a hot shower, hot food, coffee, new clothes, and a bed. And then proceeds to make Lowell comfortable about not leaving, even though Lowell's so conditioned to moving on at that point.
And to be honest, I feel more for Peter. Poor thing, because as much as he wanted to be part of his family, and close in their wolfy ways, he can't. Lowell seemed to at least be accepting his wolfy ways once things started to settle and he got a home and the stability of a mate. And for Peter, to lose his family all at once for that secret... the poor thing. :\ At least he's close to the Midsummer's residents (enough so for them to come complaining of "ailments" when he's got a house guest and to go shopping in his kitchen).
Though, gah, I really utterly wanted to smack Stacey for a lot of the story. The worst part is that I can totally, utterly understand where he's coming from -- he spent years hoping and living with (and loving) the living embodiment of everything he wants to be... but can't. And that has to hurt so much, but that doesn't make me want to tie him in a sack and dispose of him in the middle of a lake somewhere. -__-;;
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Date: 2008-02-12 02:47 am (UTC)------------------------------------------------------------------
Lowell comes in second place for my favorite (behind Peter, of course. Viva the quiet angst! Hell, he brooded on the back porch with a bottle of alcohol. Be still my heart.). Uh, but yes, Lowell -- his headlines? Made of awesome and win. I laughed rather loudly at a few of them and the rest made me at least grin. Lowell obviously has a flair for journalism. ^__~ The thing I adore the most and best about Lowell is how ignorant he is. That he doesn't know the distinctions between vampires, or what a vampire hunter is, or how things are passed through blood, or any damn thing about werewolves except the basics. There's no real reason for him to know any of it, so he doesn't. ^___^ And gosh, that he didn't know his own age pushed far too many (good) buttons for me.
I know I haven't had much exposure to werewolves (or anything, really -__-), but I really like your werewolves. Well, mostly the alpha things, because that's the coolest. ^___^ When Lowell ordered Stacey to not drink out of the carton I almost suffocated giggling. I like that it works on everyone, not just werewolves (I think it said that -- I count Peter as a werewolf, even if he doesn't change). I also really like that it gives Lowell the ability to change whenever he needs to, and not just at the full moon. The ability to make others change is kind of neat, too, and HAH Stacey got his ass whooped by the barely adult puppy. ^___^
As a side note, the way Peter and Lowell smelled to each other made my night. ♥ For serious, one of my favorite details of this story. (Especially when Peter first says something about it. There was much glee. ^___^)
What I really like is the way that Lowell seemed to grow into the alpha-ness a little. It's very apparent he's still growing into it (and how really young he is, in terms of supernatural experiences), but he's definitely more confident at the end of the story than he was when Peter picked up a poor drowning wolf. Part of it is probably just coming into the whole thing, but undoubtedly, finding Peter is a good part of it too.
So, um, basically, I loved it? ^___^;; Though that probably shows by the above verbiage. Just a little. ^__~
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Date: 2008-02-12 03:27 am (UTC)I wonder if Connor, Antonio, and his parents will come back? And if pretty Connor is gay? Or Antonio? Seems like he might need some comfort. ^___^ Hm, I wonder if werewolves frown upon male cousins shacking up.... *grins*
Eh, I'm sure you won't be able to resist playing in this sandbox again, and that whatever you do will be LOVE.
*glomps*
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Date: 2008-02-12 06:39 am (UTC)I adore Lowell. His headlines are the cutest thing ever, and I think Peter agrees with me.
And oh, man, the wolfsbane thing. Poor Toni and Connor, and poor Peter, knowing they hated him because he'd been sworn to secrecy.
I like to think that things will get better between Peter, Connor and Antonio, and that Stacey dies a slow painful death somewhere. Maybe in drabbles? *puppy eyes*
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Date: 2008-02-13 05:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-14 03:51 am (UTC)And Lowell? So cute. He and Peter are so much love that it's making me squee.
*hughughughughug*
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Date: 2008-02-19 07:32 am (UTC):claps:
Date: 2008-02-23 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-07 06:49 am (UTC)I like it~! It feels very adorable, and I love Lowell's switching through 'personalities'. I love his violent reaction to seeing Stacey -- and I love that he randomly makes things into headlines (but only says them out loud by accident once).
It feels a little bit different from the original, but I don't remember a whole bunch about the original, except that maybe there was two sets of food at a dinner at Sally's (like, would you like your marinara sauce with or without blood? sort of thing. But not that exactly) and that Lowell couldn't be cured because he was born as a werewolf, anyway, and Peter explaining at some point that his family was werewolves and that was why he felt so comfortable around them. (Also, I don't remember if there was the cute mental-headlines thing going on -- but it could've been that it was there, and I just didn't pick up on it.)
(is the original version still around anywhere anymore, for anyone who wants to read that one as well and compare? I know I'm a silly person, sorry for asking about such things!)
Really awesome that you integrated it into the Locke and Key universe, though. It's fun. I'm running through the Locke and Key tags right now, and absolutely enjoying myself. <3
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Date: 2008-06-17 08:24 am (UTC)And I'm totally enamoured by Low's headlines XD
And... and it's almost half past 1 AM, so I should really go to sleep.
Congrats once more!
I hope to read more about these wolvies.
Sweet moons!