Work Text:
Things Stevie hadn’t anticipated from her trip to the Pacific Northwest for work: going hiking, meeting an aggressive off-leash dog on a trail, and having to experience an urgent care trip due to the previously mentioned off-leash dog. All in all, it was her most exciting trip yet, and honestly, it made her think that hiking is definitely overrated.
Thankfully, none of that interrupted her ability to keep her work meeting or travel back home, though. So, now she’s back in Schitt’s Creek with antibiotics, care instructions for her dog bite, and an entire chain of messages from Mr. Rose checking in on her.
There are several messages from Ruth and David too, but both seem much more sedate than Mr. Rose.
really, I’m fine. Stevie sends to Mr. Rose one last time and adds a smiley face for good measure before she sets her phone aside and crashes for the night.
_______________
The next morning, Stevie thinks she should probably change the bandage. The nurse had said that was key to proper healing. But what’s weird is when she removes it, there isn’t any sign that she was bitten, just smooth skin where her injury should be.
“What the hell?” she mutters and messages Twyla —because Ruth is busy today, David is well… David, and Mr. Rose would probably send another chain of concerned messages in response— a quick text that reads: do you know how long it takes for something to heal?
Because she doesn’t know what else to do, she takes a photo of her obviously unharmed leg and sends it to Twyla with a row of question marks.
Oh, weird. Is what she gets back in return. Then: come to the café?
Stevie doesn’t know what going to the café will do for her, but she doesn’t have any urgent work things today, so she does. Besides, if anyone can find an answer for weird shit, it would probably be Twyla.
Stevie’s never been sure that Twyla isn’t a witch or something.
_______________
“I think it was actually a wolf,” Twyla tells her as soon as Stevie sits on a barstool. “I reread your description and they’re common in the area you were in. Plus, it makes more sense than a dog.”
Stevie blinks. She takes a deep breath. She doesn’t ask how a wolf makes more sense than a dog on a pedestrian hiking trail.
“That doesn’t explain how I had an injury yesterday night, and now I don’t,’ Stevie points out.
“It could, though,” Twyla begins. “I have an aunt that talked about this old wife's tale about werewolves in Schitt’s Creek.” Stevie would honestly think it was a joke if it were anyone else. But it’s Twyla and she looks serious. “So, I looked it up, and there are also a lot of the same stories for where you were at.”
“Werewolves aren’t real,” Stevie says because she can’t process the fact that Twyla had time to research anything in the twenty minutes it took her to get to the Café Tropical.
“What else could explain how quickly you healed?” Twyla raises both eyebrows. “I could ask my aunt for the details if you want,” Twyla offers, obviously politely ignoring Stevie’s skepticism. “It doesn’t mean it’s true. But I don’t remember the whole story, and it’s not like we can explain it anyway.”
Stevie thinks she’s beginning to really believe Twyla might be a witch. Who else would have family stories about werewolves?
“Maybe ask her if there’s anything else floating around we should know about,” Stevie deadpans.
“Oh, like ghosts?” Twyla pauses mid-wipe down of the counter. “Because I already know where all the ghosts live in town.” She looks thoughtful for a moment before adding, “Actually, I need to tell David and Patrick that the one in the Apothecary doesn’t like the smell of the new hand soap. It could get malevolent if they don’t change that.”
It’s probably best that Twyla steps away before Stevie can respond because Stevie doesn’t know how to, actually. A lot has been thrown at her this morning.
She’ll probably get a text later after Twyla talks to her aunt, so she doesn’t feel that bad about leaving without a goodbye.
_______________
Stevie doesn’t get a text later. She actually doesn’t hear anything for weeks, and any time she asks, Twyla doesn’t have any information because her aunt hasn’t gotten back to her.
That is, until one day Twyla slides a paper across the counter to Stevie that has an address, a date, and a time written on it.
“This is for you,” she tells Stevie in a chipper tone, smiling like that’s going to assuage Stevie’s concern.
“From who?” Stevie asks. She knows the address, but it’s just an abandoned house out on the edge of town.
“I don’t know,” Twyla admits. “It was taped to the door with your name on it. I don’t know why they didn’t leave it at the motel either. But, I think you should go.”
Personally, Stevie thinks it sounds too sketchy, but she’s not sure she has another choice.
“Did you ever get more information from your aunt?” Stevie asks instead of confirming or denying her intentions.
“Oh!” Twyla’s face brightens again. “She said a friend of hers would contact you.” Stevie watches her eyes dart to the paper in her hand, “You know, that’s probably what that is, actually.”
Stevie glances at the paper again.
“If you don’t hear from me, please send Patrick,” she tells Twyla. Alexis is out of town, otherwise she would have asked for her; of everyone that Stevie knows, she thinks Alexis would be the best in a dangerous situation. She’s never mentioned that to anyone else, though.
She wishes she didn’t need to go, but honestly, what other choice does she have? Mysterious healing is not normal and the sketchy meet up might be her only chance to find anything out.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Twyla responds, and Stevie wishes only a little that she could adopt some of that positivity.
Stevie raises her eyebrows. “Well, ok,” she replies. “But if I’m not.”
“I’ll send Patrick.”
_______________
When Stevie pulls up to the address of an old victorian the next night it’s about a half an hour before the sun sets. Which doesn’t help her general sense of unease, for the record. There isn’t another vehicle in sight and no sign that there’s anyone but Stevie in the area.
She sends Twyla a text that reads: remember, if you don’t hear from me by tomorrow morning. She gets a thumbs up and a smiley face in return.
“Not sketchy at all,” she mutters as she looks up at the house and locks her car, then makes her way up the walk.
There aren’t any lights on in the interior but when she tries the front door it’s unlocked.
She shrieks when she’s met with Ronnie standing in the entryway in almost complete darkness.
“Oh my god!’ Stevie exclaims. “What the hell?!?!”
“Sorry,” Ronnie apologizes, unphased by the outburst. “I don’t go in for the cloak and dagger usually, but it’s how this is done.” Stevie watches her reach over and hit a lightswitch, bathing them both in light. “Close the door.” She nods at the door behind Stevie, who complies wordlessly.
“What the hell?” Stevie repeats.
“Word through the grapevine is you had a run-in in Washington state with some unexpected side effects.” Ronnie drops her eyes to Stevie’s lower leg, covered in jeans, so it’s not like she can see anything. Stevie actually doesn’t like how cryptic Ronnie is being personally.
“Yeah, I got a dog bite that fully healed in a day,” Stevie explains slowly. “Do you know anything about why that would happen?”
“Think so,” Ronnie replies without adding any other clarification. “Come with me.” If it were anyone but Ronnie, Stevie would be out the door again. But deep down she has to trust there isn’t anything really messed up going on.
Ronnie wouldn’t stand for that kind of bullshit.
Ronnie leads her to the basement. It’s in better repair than the rest of the house, if not just a little too utilitarian with cinderblock walls and what looks like reinforced doors on the rooms.
“Twyla let you know that we confirmed the werewolf theory?” Ronnie asks.
“Uh,” Stevie starts, “no, she didn’t mention that.”
“Knew we shouldn’t have trusted Merilyn to pass that on. Merilyn, can be,” Ronnie stops like she’s struggling for a polite way to explain Twyla’s relative, “forgetful. Probably didn’t pass it on to Twyla. Sorry about that.” She doesn’t quite smile apologetically, but Stevie thinks her expression softens. “Made the note a lot weirder, I bet.”
“Uh, yeah.” Stevie nods. “It absolutely did.”
Ronnie looks like she’s gathering her thoughts before she continues with, “We’re pretty sure you were bitten, but can’t confirm it without getting through the full moon. Since that’s tonight, we’ll spend the night down here to find out. The basement is separated into rooms, but there’s surveillance and you won’t be in any danger if you don’t turn.”
Stevie mouths a few words, starts a few aborted sentences before settling on, “You’re serious?”
“Unfortunately, yeah,” Ronnie answers. “It’s been awhile since this happened. There’s only a handful of us in the area now.”
“So, you’re going to lock me in a room by myself, for the whole night?”
Ronnie nods. “There’s not a lot of time to go through all the specifics, you’ll need to trust me for now.”
Stevie has so many questions, but no answers, and not a lot of options.
“Ok, fine,” she agrees resignedly.
It’s a blur after that.
Stevie wakes up the next morning in a corner of the room. Her clothing is barely clothing anymore, just tatters really, and she has flashes of memory that include howling and scratching at a door.
Well, fuck.
“We can roll the footage back, but I think we have our answer,” Ronnie announces by way of greeting, standing in the doorway with a new set of clothing for Stevie. “Welcome to the club.” She sets the clothing down near Stevie. “Your jacket is in the mail.”
Stevie laughs. Not because what she said was funny, but because she thinks if she doesn’t laugh she’ll cry and that would just be so embarrassing.
“C’mon, get changed, we’ll get breakfast, then I’ll explain everything.”
_______________
It takes weeks to really sink in. Ronnie has to explain it several times before Stevie stops thinking it’s an elaborate prank, and finally what really gets her to believe is the video footage from the night in the basement.
It’s a lot to watch yourself turn into a wolf.
“So, it’s permanent?” Stevie asks Ronnie during one of their —now routine— breakfast meet ups. Stevie brought coffee and breakfast sandwiches from the café and they’re both seated on the tailgate of Ronnie’s truck.
“Near as anyone can tell,” Ronnie confirms. “Sorry. Most of us try to be more careful these days. It’s not exactly a good time, changing into a wolf once a month.” But, Stevie thinks, it must be easy to conceal since she never would have guessed anything was up with Ronnie before her Washington trip happened.
“What am I going to tell my friends?”
Stevie hasn’t said anything to anyone. She thinks Twyla probably knows, but also hasn’t said anything. David’s going to think she’s high if she tells him, probably.
“As little or as much as you want. We’re not in the business of secrets, we just know most people won’t believe it.”
_______________
It’s four months and four more full moons before Stevie mentions anything to Ruth. It’s really only because they’re trying to schedule a weekend away for the two of them and the one that Ruth keeps suggesting is over a full moon.
“I have the video, if you want to see it,” Stevie finishes after blurting out the entire story.
“That… would be helpful,” Ruth replies evenly. Stevies taking it as a win that she didn’t immediately hang up on her when the words “I’m a werewolf” came out of her mouth.
After that they avoid personal and work trips around the full moon.
It takes a full year for Stevie to tell everybody. There are varying degrees of reception.
David does, in fact, think Stevie is high.
Mr. Rose is unsurprisingly the most concerned and messages Stevie a lot to check in with her in the weeks after he finds out.
Stevie will never admit to the warm feeling that brings her.
_______________
“Is there any way to find out who it was?” Stevie asks Ronnie one morning. “Just out of curiosity.” It’s not the first time she’s thought about it, but it’s the first time she’s thought to ask.
“Probably not,” Ronnie replies with an apologetic shake of her head. “The Washington packs aren’t good with details like that.”
Oh, that’s another thing, Stevie has a pack now. It’s not a lot of people. Just Ronnie, a couple in their fifties from Elmdale, and Jake, of all people. It’s nice to have the support.
“But I’ll keep my ears open, just in case,” Ronnie continues. “Something might bubble up.”
Turns out when someone gets bitten there’s a lot of surveillance that happens in the aftermath.
“Thanks.”
“Did you hear about the Apothecary ghost?” Ronnie asks with a raised eyebrow, changing the subject. “Turns out they don’t like bergamot.”
Stevie snorts. “Twyla gave David a list of acceptable scents last year. I guess he went rogue.” Probably because he loudly exclaimed multiple times that he didn’t believe in ghosts and wasn’t going to adjust his business for something that didn’t exist. “Was there damage?”
“Nah,” Ronnie replies. “Just a lot of tremors until they swapped it out for lemongrass. I think David asked Twyla to sage the place, also.” She takes a drink from her coffee. “Word might actually be out about her witch thing.”
“So she is a witch!” Stevie exclaims, louder than intended, and she sheepishly looks both ways down the street. “Does Alexis know?”
Ronnie shrugs.
“You could ask.”
“I guess I could.”
Stevie wonders how much more about the supernatural in Schitt’s Creek she doesn’t know about.
“Hey, are vampires real too?” She glances sidelong at Ronnie.
“Not that I know of.”
Well, that’s a relief.
“But vampires are cagey like that.”
Oh no…