Chapter Text
The beast’s growls ease, its eyes focusing on the small girl, its expression softening.
The girl whimpers. She wants her Great Uncle to come back.
The real Stan, he’s still in there.
The eyes grow wide, the fur easing. His claws loosen, his heart aches, and grief comes rushing in.
He…he almost did that…attacked her…he can’t even…
He whines.
A shivering clawed hand reaches to her, the werewolf no longer pinning her. The brown color returns to his eyes, the creature’s expression greatly pained.
He growls.
“Sweetie…”
“Grunkle Stan…it’s me…it’s me.”
The times where he wanted to speak, he could not. Every time he tried to control his monstrous body, something dragged him away. Every emotion triggered a reaction in the beast. Every movement he tried became a violent action. No one can hear him cry out for them.
And the softest words and saddest pleas from his family gutted.
He wants to sob, apologize, their fearful gaze paralyzing them.
And yet she still trusts him, after all that.
And he doesn’t want her to.
She reaches out, but the werewolf flinches.
A soft growl ends in a whimper.
He truly is a beast.
His lips quiver, snorting loudly as a low growl builds up in his throat.
“G-Grunkle Stan?”
The wolf tears his eyes away, his jaws open. He lifts himself from the ground, howling mournfully as he towers over them.
Terrifying but beautiful; his gray coat silver-like in the moonlight, the wolf’s howl soothing, reassuring. Lulling them.
She catches the sight of tears running down the beast’s face.
Dipper watches silently.
Mabel is afraid to say anything to the large werewolf, afraid he might lose control again. But his agony shows no differently from Dipper’s.
She slowly gets up, the large animal does not notice. He rather not. The wolf might go after them again. He doesn’t even notice the small child leaning against him somberly, the small hands grasping his fur.
She sinks her head into the werewolf, crying.
“Please don’t…”