Chapter Text
Full moons sucked ass.
They came in two stages, each unique in their horribleness.
The first was dealing with Duncan's shorter-than-usual temper and godawtful driving, first coming out when a cheerleader made a snide remark about bathing in blood to seduce a demon. It was so incredibly cliché she could only imagine Heather must have left her out to dry. The Head Bitch herself knew better than to get her own hands dirty this close to Gwen's personal guard dog's transformation, but she had no qualms about putting her minions in harm's way.
Gwen had to resort to appealing to his chauvinism and telling him he couldn't kick a girl's ass. And now she was a traitor to feminism.
It got worse when the student council president rudely told him to step out of the way in the hallway. What ensued was a nauseating display of… well, it wasn't quite puppy love.
Courtney looked like she couldn't decide between ripping Duncan's head off or jumping his bones when Gwen finally got him to shut the fuck up.
Days like this, she seriously considered dropping him off at the pound and never looking back.
Then came turning down the genuinely well-meaning offers for help from a friend-of-a-friend. Friend of Duncan's friend, she did not want to hang out with Geoff.
She had to, once again, remind DJ that a werewolf was a little different than the baby birds and bunnies he liked rescuing, and that he'd be a great veterinarian some day, provided he wasn't Duncan's. She'd been dealing with him for years, she didn’t need any help.
After school, she had the task of sneaking his heartworm medication into his food. She'd decided a long time ago that it was best to condense all of his dog-related activities to one day of the month. It didn't hurt that he was always in a weird enough headspace to go along with it on the full moon.
Then she had to collect her meat stockpile. It was so dumb, but the best way to control him really was with food.
She briefly ran home to cook up a pot of boxed mac and cheese for Tommy, made sure his homework was done, completely neglected her own homework, and then left to meet Duncan in the woods outside of town.
"You're up to date on your rabies shot, right?" She pulled her old Cranks hoodie around her shoulders as she sat next to him at the worn wooden picnic table that they'd made their home base. She wished she'd worn something warmer, the sun hadn't even set yet and there was already a chill on the breeze.
She went about checking her backpack for her supplies. Dog whistle. Water. Flashlight. A small packet of peanut butter. A tennis ball.
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mom. You know what else? You know what I'll do if I see a rabid motherfucker?"
Gwen groaned. "Eat it."
"Eat it!"
"That's really gross, you know. You don't know where those things have been."
"You don’t know where I've been."
She shuddered while slipping the whistle over her head. "Don't make me leash you."
"Yeah, that'd end super well for you."
He was right. Even without his moon madness, he was capable of easily picking her up, usually to slam dunk her into dumpsters. It was the downside of being 4'11". Her arms would end up ripped out of the sockets.
Maybe she should have accepted DJ's help. He was big enough to restrain a werewolf, maybe.
She kicked his shin under the table when she caught his eyes drifting toward the insulated lunch box sitting in front of her. "No. That's for later."
"I know! Jesus."
The moon was rising any minute now. At least once that happened he'd shut up.
"The kid gonna be okay?"
Gwen dragged her little brother into their dirtbaggery often enough that Duncan considered him part of his pack. Wolf psychology. The kid was neglected enough by their mom, and he sometimes felt bad that he was alone overnight every month because of him.
It wasn't like he could do anything about it, though.
"Yeah, he's pretty much ready for bed and watching TV now. I'll text him to remind him to go to bed at ten."
Duncan nodded. He looked like he was about to say something else when a squirell darted out from behind a tree and his attention snapped to it.
"No." Gwen kept her voice low and stern. "Drop it."
His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. A low growl sounded deep in his throat as the squirrel seemingly taunted him.
"No," she told him again, knowing it was pointless. His pupils were dilating, hair on his arms getting thicker. He was gonna kill that squirrel or make an ass of himself.
She didn't flinch when he took off, transforming as he pounced on the poor squirrel, who certainly had no idea what it was getting itself into. She did cringe a little as she watched him grip it in his snout, shaking it back and forth to end things chaotically.
Stage two was a little better, usually.
Unfortunately for the squirrel, by the time he happily trotted back to her and dropped it on her lap, it was still alive. And shaking.
Duncan panted up at her, pink tongue poking out of a dark black snout. Tufts of neon green fur poked up along the top of his head, leading down the crest of his back and to the tip of his wagging tail. His eyes, still the same bright blue, searched her face for a sign of approval.
She shoved the squirrel back toward him. "Put it out of its misery, would you?"
This time, Gwen did flinch at the crunch of its bones.
Bloodlust sated for the moment, Duncan trotted over to the tree the squirrel had come out of and began sniffing around its trunk.
Maybe she'd get lucky and this would be a chill night. Maybe he'd take a massive shit on the school football field again and Coach Hatchet would pop another neck vein screaming at the student body.
He was getting further away from her, seemingly having picked up something interesting. She reluctantly grabbed her flashlight and a steak strip and heaved herself from the bench to follow and make sure that if he shat anywhere, it'd be on school property. Maybe Principal McLean's front yard.
"Duncan! Where're we going, boy?"
He vehemently denied it in human form, but as a wolf, he responded so much better to the dog voice.
This time, however, he ignored her and picked up the pace, running forward quicker and growling.
"Oh, it's another squirrel? Why don't you eat the first one first!"
Duncan took off running and barking at full volume.
"Motherfucker," Gwen muttered under her breath before she ran after him. She dodged around tree branches and stumbled over the uneven forest floor following the sounds of his snarling.
She caught up to him at the mouth of a huge concrete pipe, leading deep underground, probably into the town's sewers. His ears were back, teeth fully bared as he snarled at something Gwen couldn't see lurking in the shadows.
"Hey. Down, boy."
Duncan growled at the shadows.
"Something in there?" She crept closer to him.
His fur bristled as he barked, echoing loudly off the walls of the tunnel.
"Is someone there?" Gwen called out. "Just so you know, you're probably fucked."
Nope. It'd be bad if he attacked someone. Time for distraction.
She fished out one of his steak strips from the lunch box.
"Look, Duncan! Meat! Your favorite!"
A high pitched whine escaped his throat, but quickly grew into loud, aggressive barking again.
"Fine," she told Duncan. "I'm gonna turn on the light, kay?"
She flicked on the flashlight and pointed it into the tunnel. She squinted and stepped forward in front of Duncan.
The tunnel was, as she'd expected, fucking dark. Even with the flashlight, she could barely make out a dark shadow on the floor that honestly could have just been the shape of the tunnel.
Duncan nipped at the hem of her denim skirt, trying to pull her back.
She ignored him and stepped forward again, staring into the black mass. She swore, it almost looked like it was moving.
Bubbling, rising up and spilling out towards her.
Suddenly, she was on the ground, massive teeth clamped around the back of her neck and dragging her away from the tunnel entrance. She fell, winded, to the ground, sticks digging into her side and tangling into her hair as her snarling friend gave her a nonverbal stay there. 7
"What the fuck, dude!" she shouted as he returned to barking frantically at the tunnel. Whatever was in there, he must have been feeling empowered, because he began advancing into the dark, still in full threat mode.
Gwen fumbled for the dogwhistle on her neck and blew as hard as she could.
That finally broke Duncan's concentration, and he cowered away from the noise, whimpering.
She dropped the whistle. "Down!"
Duncan rushed over to her and began frantically sniffing and licking at the bite wounds on her neck and shoulder.
"Yeah, thanks for that, asshole."
He whimpered softly.
"There's nothing in there, just piss and shit. Fucking chill."
As soon as the words left her mouth, a deafening hiss sounded from inside the tunnel.
Duncan vanished inside, once again snarling and barking and echoing through the shadows.
"Fuck."
Gwen stood up stiffly and walked over to where she'd dropped her flashlight. It was beginning to dim. That was her fault. She should have checked the batteries before leaving the house.
It would have to do. She steeled her nerves, and her nose, and followed him into the sewer tunnel.
It was too dark. The walls were too tight, too heavy.
She slipped in a gross puddle of something. Her breath hitched as she regained her balance without falling into the sewage.
She turned the flashlight down to the puddle to see a thick, black slime coating her boots. She reached down and gingerly poked it with one fingertip.
It was warm to the touch and heavy on her skin. She tried rubbing it off, but only ended up smearing it all over her hand. It was thick enough to fully coat her hand with full opacity, like she'd dipped it in tar.
Gross.
She tried wiping it off on the tunnel wall. No luck.
That was weird. When she poked at it with her clean hand (mistake), it rubbed off. It was still sticky. She touched the wall again. No transfer.
"The fuck?" she whispered.
A low, familiar growl echoing through the sewers pulled her out of her thoughts.
She was looking for Duncan.
She pulled her boots out of the sticky puddle with less effort than she was expecting. In fact, the puddle itself seemed to evaporate off the ground. Not off her boots, though. That would be fun to clean tomorrow.
She rushed around a corner, apparently not having learned her lesson before, and slid in a patch of mold, probably, straight into a bubbling black pit of sewage. Probably.
It was a lot of it. Enough to be fully submerged.
She gasped for breath as she pulled herself out of the puddle. It was all over her, under her fingernails, seeping into the wounds where Duncan had bit her, soaked all the way through her clothes, pooling in her boots. All around her and inside her. She was one with the slime.
And it was warm.
That was the worst part. That made her want to cry.
It was warm.
She spat several times, trying to get it out of her mouth as she struggled back to her feet.
Gross. Gross. Gross.
"I swear, I'm about to leave you in here!" she shouted.
The tight quarters weren't helping either. The walls and ceiling were closing in on her more tightly than the disgustingly warm goo.
"Leaving!"
She found her way out of the tunnels, only to be met with the very wolf she was looking for.
And he was barking his damn head off again.
"Dude, calm the fuck down." She stepped toward him.
He stepped back and snarled.
Gwen froze.
His eyes were fixed on her. Not behind her, not at anything else, her. He was growling at her.
That had never happened before.
He'd accidentally hurt her before. Never severely. Never worse than before when he'd dragged her away from the tunnel.
Duncan was a werewolf. He was a feral creature of the night that was driven by bloodlust. She knew that.
Still, she'd never been afraid of him before.
But now, the way his cold blue eyes fixed on her, lips pulled back into a snarl, fur flattened and ears pulled back, her blood ran cold.
"It's me. Gwen. Ghoulie. Pasty bitch. Your best friend."
He growled again, louder this time.
She reached a trembling hand forward for him to smell and remember who the fuck she was.
He flinched back, then began barking.
Gwen pulled her hand back.
He circled around, then barked again. Snarling and growling with his tail low and rigid.
"Hey. Shh. It's okay. What's scaring you?"
Gwen tried to keep her voice low and even, but Duncan was only getting more agitated.
"I'm gonna back away."
She almost did. She took one step and Duncan decided that was enough of a threat, apparently.
He lunged for her, fangs out.
Something shifted underneath Gwen's skin. Something sickening and squishy and weirdly warm. Like it was being pulled forward by instinct. Something inside Gwen coming out to protect her.
Her vision blacked out briefly, and when it cleared up, all she saw was a neon green tail disappearing into the darkness, tucked under dark haunches as his whimpering faded into the distance.
Gwen collapsed to the ground, like a string holding her up had suddenly been dropped. The chill of the night finally seeped into her soaking wet clothes as she was left wondering what the fuck had happened.
Full moons sucked ass.