Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blood. He can see nothing but blood.

It drips down his eyelashes and rolls down his dirt-covered cheeks. His whole body reeks of it, the coppery smell so pungent his sensitive nose can’t pick up any other scent. Not that he could rely on it to find his way, even without this horrid scent clogging up his nostrils. Those heightened senses are all so new, so confusing. And a constant reminder of what he has become.

An abomination. A cursed monster.

With every tentative step he takes, his strained bones complain, which makes it impossible to forget how they bent and broke the second the full moon appeared. The last patches of fur have started to disappear, exposing the naked skin underneath to the freezing morning breeze. The cold will probably kill him, if his injuries don’t take care of that first.

A silent sob shakes his wounded shoulders. Fresh tears mix in with the blood.

This is all so unfair. He never meant to encroach on another pack’s territory during his first transformation. He did try to apologize, to let them know it was all an accident, but how could he, when no one ever taught him how to properly communicate under his wolf form? When the werewolf who bit him one month ago didn’t care to integrate him into their pack or to give him any advice?

Not that these wolves waited till the moon set to let him explain, eager as they were to all sink their fangs into him as a punishment.

Their bites are scattered all over his body, but the ones on his face are the worst of all. He can tell they wanted to leave him permanently disfigured. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have focused on it so much.

He shudders at the awful memory of strong jaws mercilessly tearing into his flesh. Even though the cheery chirping of songbirds tells him the day has returned, he still jumps at the slightest sound, scared that a werewolf might be on his trail.

A pathetic whine rises up his throat, the sound more canine than human, and he hates it. He wants this nightmare to be over. He wants this curse gone. He…

He just wants to go home.

Except he no longer has a home to return to. He is alone. Desperately so.

Werewolves are too unpredictable, his human family said, when they chased him away after he returned to them bitten. Too dangerous. We can’t put the whole village at risk by letting you stay with us.

You’re a failure. You made your pack abandon you, his wolf instincts, these foreign instincts he despises with all his heart, keep harassing him incessantly.

And even if he could return home, he wouldn’t know how. Ever since his head hit the ground during the attack, his mind’s been all fuzzy. He can’t remember what his village is called. Can’t even remember what he’s called.

His humanity, his family, his name. He has lost everything. And now he is exhausted and hurt and stumbling blindly forward, because that’s all he can do.

He’s lost count of how many times he nearly tripped on a rock. The soles of his feet have been hurting ever since he walked on something sharp. Leaves and twigs stick to his bloody skin, but he doesn’t have enough strength left to remove them.

Doesn’t have enough strength left for anything, really.

When he falls, he barely feels his knees scrape against the ground. The pain is such a tiny drop in his ocean of suffering, hardly noticeable. He holds onto a small tree and tries to get back up, but his legs give out. This time, he falls face-first against the forest floor. In a last, desperate attempt to save himself, he rolls to his side and shifts part of his weight onto his hands, hoping to get into a kneeling position from there

Except his injured shoulders won’t let him.

He releases a sharp cry of pain and crashes once more among the fallen leaves, scratching his elbows in the process. His vision starts going from red to black. More tears stream down his cheeks. He curls into a ball, too weak and too despondent to keep fighting.

All he wants is to rest for a little while. He feels so tired… And while he sleeps, at least he won’t feel the pain anymore. Of course, he might never wake up, but what does it matter? From the moment that awful pack attacked him, he was as good as dead. Nothing but a walking corpse.

So, when unconsciousness comes knocking at his door, he welcomes it and lets his eyes close slowly.

After all, his only hope of survival was to find someone kind enough to help him.

And what a foolish hope it was.

Because really, who would help a lone, hurt werewolf?

“Derpy! Come back here!”

The blue demon tiger doesn’t even register the order and keeps merrily chasing the butterfly he’s been fixated on for the last fifteen minutes. Jinu curses under his breath and keeps running after his giant pet while the six-eyed bird perched on his shoulder lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“If you make me follow you into werewolf territory, I swear I’ll be cutting off your treats for a month,” he mumbles.

Again, no acknowledgment from Derpy. Jinu groans. He doesn’t want to turn into a bat again. Sure, it’ll effectively lure his familiar away from his current obsession, since apparently bats are so much more entertaining than butterflies for some reason, but he really doesn’t want to abandon his clothes in the middle of nowhere and come back home flying and squeaking and narrowly evading Derpy’s large paws.

It would be the third time this month.

His coven would never let him hear the end of it.

However, just as Jinu ponders whether or not he should subject himself to that mortifying ordeal, Derpy sniffs the air and suddenly changes track, the butterfly all but forgotten. Sussie rolls his eyes, as if to say “What’s gotten into him now?”. Jinu shrugs and gives his bird a sympathetic smile.

“Only one way to find out, I guess.”

While he keeps following Derpy, Sussie points his beak at the dark clouds above them and lets out a disgruntled squawk.

“I know. I’d like to get home before it starts raining too.”

As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance and the first drops of a heavy rainfall land atop The Bird’s hat. He side-eyes Jinu.

“Aaaaand I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Lightning splits the sky, but it doesn’t deter Derpy from heading straight toward the bad weather.

“Aren’t cats supposed to dislike water? Even one as big as you?” Jinu grumbles.

And then he hears it, long before he can see anyone.

The faint, steady thrum of a heartbeat, nearly drowned out by the vociferous storm. A sound so weak his vampire ears almost missed it.

Next, the scent of blood spilled hits his nose, but it doesn’t trigger his Thirst.

A werewolf, then. Just the one, if his senses are to be trusted. And in pretty bad shape, from what he can tell.

Weird. They usually move in packs and never abandon their wounded behind. Not to mention this one has wandered out of werewolf territory, which is unusual in itself.

Jinu isn’t overly worried, though. He wasn’t turned yesterday. He can take on a wounded wolf alone if need be. And if other wolves tried to ambush him, he would hear them coming from afar.

A loud meow interrupts his thoughts. At last, Derpy has come to a stop and is now pawing at a mound of dead leaves. He looks so enthralled by his discovery that Jinu cannot help but smile fondly, despite all the inconveniences his familiar put him through.

“What is it you’ve found now?”

He takes a step forward, and the heartbeat sound grows clearer. Another, and he can nearly taste blood on his tongue.

Oh.

Of course.

Derpy couldn’t have spotted a dead mouse or anything like it.

No, it had to be a werewolf.

He closes the distance between them in large strides, and is nowhere near surprised when Derpy’s insistent patting reveals a shivering, naked young man curled up under the leaf litter.

What shocks him, however, is the nature of his injuries.

The stranger is covered in nasty werewolf bites, even though he is a werewolf himself. Jinu’s unbeating heart twists at the sight. While he has seen and experienced his fair share of tragedies and horrors throughout the ages, at least he’s never had the misfortune of having his own kind turn on him.

And werewolves are overtly social creatures, even more so than vampires, unable to survive without the love and protection of a pack.

The marks that have been left on that poor wolf… They’re here to sever those precious ties, to brand him as an outcast, undeserving of a pack.

A quick death would have been more merciful.

To think the local pack calls him and his spouses monsters for drinking blood.

At least they don’t do torture.

Once there are no more leaves to sweep away, Derpy nudges the unconscious werewolf with his snout, then does it again when he doesn’t get a reaction in return. He’s going for a third try when Jinu kneels down and slips a hand through his fur to stop him gently.

“He won’t wake up. He’s too injured for that.”

The Tiger blinks a few times. Raises a paw to slowly poke the werewolf again. Then, when that doesn’t work either, he sits down and stares at Jinu with big, expectant eyes.

Jinu looks at his familiar, then at the trembling werewolf, then at Derpy again, and sighs in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll bring him home.”

It’s not like he could just leave him here to die alone, anyway. Besides, Jinu might be centuries old, but he retains sharp memories of when he was miserable and starving and helpless. Of when desperation drove him to the biggest mistake of his life.

Their circumstances might not be strictly the same, but they’re similar enough to fill Jinu’s chest with compassion; to convince him to show this stranger the kindness he wishes he’d been offered.

So, he removes his coat and cautiously wraps it around the werewolf to protect him from the rain, then he gathers him in his arms. However, before they depart, Jinu points a finger at Derpy.

“Look, we need to get home fast, or he might not make it. So: No. More. Butterflies.”

When Jinu steps into the mansion he shares with his spouses, Derpy in tow, he isn’t surprised to find all three of them waiting for him in the hallway, their expression a mix of curiosity and concern. No doubt they’ve heard the wolf’s heartbeat and smelled his blood from a mile away. After all, their kind is basically wired to beware of such creatures.

Baby raises an eyebrow and glares at the wounded man in his arms.

“Is that a werewolf?”

Jinu nods.

“Derpy found him.”

“On our lands?”

“No, further west, near the border. I didn’t cross it,” he hurriedly adds when that earns him worried stares.

“Still too close for comfort, if you ask me,” Romance argues. “Look at what the pack put this poor guy through. Now imagine what they would do to a vampire.”

“He’s in pretty rough shape,” Abby seconds, somber. “Do you have any idea why they did this to him? Was he… Was he part of the pack himself?”

Did his own family put him through hell? is the question that goes unsaid.

Jinu shakes his head.

“I don’t know. He was alone when we came across him.”

“Then we should keep an eye out for his pack. If they’re not the ones responsible for his state, they’ll be looking for him, and his trail leads straight here,” Baby reasons.

“You’re right, sorry. This… This is putting you all in danger, and I didn’t even realize it. I… I should have given this more thought, but he was freezing and bleeding out and I… I didn’t know what else to do. I… I couldn’t just leave him there.”

The smaller vampire’s eyes soften, and he puts a reassuring hand on Jinu’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have brought him here. Only that we should be prepared for what might come next, because I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially when the lives of my husbands are at stake. So you take care of our mystery guest, and I’ll handle the rest, alright?”

“We have spare healing potions in the attic, if I remember well,” Romance helpfully provides. They’ll be less efficient on a werewolf, since they were brewed specifically for, well, vampires, but it should keep him alive. I’ll go fetch them.”

“Then I’ll make a quick trip to the village to buy ointments and bandages. He’ll need lots of those,” Abby offers. “Perhaps some red meat too? He’ll be hungry once he wakes up, and I doubt human blood will be to his liking… Oh, wait, first I’ll draw him a bath. Poor thing needs to warm up.”

Jinu’s undead heart swells with love as he watches his husbands all busy themselves to save the trembling werewolf tucked in his arms, simply because they realized it mattered to him. And before he follows Abby upstairs, he sends Derpy a pointed look.

“See? He’s in good hands.”

The familiar pays him no mind, his big, wide eyes glued to a carpet Jinu knows will be clawed the second he turns around.

“Already found something else to occupy your mind with, uh?” He chuckles fondly. “Well, I suppose it’ll be up to me to look after this little werewolf, then.”

Chapter Text

“This is even worse than I thought,” Jinu murmurs as he takes in the true extent of the werewolf’s injuries, now that all the dirt and crusted blood’s been removed from his skin.

Bruises and deep bites color nearly all of his body red and purple and create a sharp contrast with the white sheets he’s now cocooned in. They are scarcer and more spread out over his arms and legs, but meet vicious claw streaks on his back and chest. Only his throat and the lower part of his face have been spared this horrid treatment, but out of cruelty rather than mercy, the vampire suspects.

The location and repartition of the wounds all lead towards the same conclusion: the pack wanted to draw this man’s agony out. Thus, they probably avoided those areas so they wouldn’t accidentally snap his neck or crush his carotid and put a premature end to their twisted parody of a hunt.

“With what those wolves did to his face, it’s a wonder he hasn’t lost his eyes.” Romance quietly concurs. “Even with the potion, he’s still going to have so many scars…”

Jinu immediately notices the underlying disappointment in his voice. While they knew not to expect much from the start, they both hoped the potion would yield better, more noticeable results. If used on a vampire, the medicine would have closed most of the wounds seamlessly. Instead, when they carefully poured a few drops onto the werewolf’s tongue, the remedy stabilized him, but just barely, and the bite marks remained frustratingly intact.

To soothe his husband, Jinu intertwines their fingers together and strokes the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Don’t forget it stopped the internal bleeding. He’ll live, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do much. You’re the one who carried him all the way here,” Romance deflects the praise with a shrug.

Still, some tension vanishes from his shoulders, letting Jinu know he’s said the right thing. Decades spent together have taught him that Romance is always striving to make himself useful for those he loves, may it be with gifts, small acts of affection, or, in the current case, by helping Jinu save the stray werewolf he brought home.

And Jinu never fails to show appreciation for these caring gestures, because the support of his husband means the world to him.

“Sure, but you did the quick thinking. Besides, I… I’m glad I’m not alone in this. I know we all witnessed horrors while we were still under Gwi-Ma’s control, that I’ve seen worse than what happened to this poor werewolf, that this shouldn’t faze me, but…”

“But the memories make it worse, not easier,” Romance completes, because he gets it. Of course he gets it. “Remember how he made us stand by and watch whenever he punished someone? I still have nightmares about that. I was always so scared one of us would be next. But we’re not his slaves anymore. We’re not forced to just wait and watch. This time, we can make a difference, and we will, alright?”

Jinu gives a small nod and leans against his husband’s shoulder, grateful for the comfort.

Right as he does, the door opens on Abby, absolutely drenched from the rain that’s still falling outside.

“I’ve got the bandages and ointments!” He proudly announces while waving several heavily packed bags in front of him. “I wasn’t quite sure what would work on a werewolf, so I bought a bit of everything, just in case… Oh, and I grabbed some clothes that should be his size. We wouldn’t want him to catch a cold on top of, well, everything. I mean, if werewolves can even catch a cold. I’m kind of out of my depth here.”

Without missing a beat, he starts emptying the bags, laying out their contents on the bed and nightstand. Romance and Jinu share a fond look, both endeared by their husband’s rambling.

“We all are, but I’m sure this’ll do great. Thank you, Abby,” Jinu says with genuine warmth in his voice. “Mind helping us with the bandages? We could use a third pair of hands.”

“Course I don’t mind. The sooner he’s all patched up, the better.”

“We should start with his face. Make sure his eyes don’t get infected,” Romance suggests.

Jinu nods in agreement.

“Let’s get started then.”

It hurts. It hurts everywhere and it’s dark all around and he cannot move. There are hands on his body, moving him to the side, holding him down, rubbing a viscous paste onto his wounds, swathing his tender chest and shoulders in tight bindings.

Every time they touch him, it reawakens the ache in his injuries and pain flares anew in his veins. He tries to thrash, to escape from their hold, but his fingers won’t even twitch. He’s trapped in limbo, not fully asleep, but not awake either, reduced to nothing more than an unmoving, broken doll.

Except a doll wouldn’t be hurt, or scared.

And he is so, so scared

Everything is a blur of confusing emotions and sensations he can’t make sense of. His thoughts are few and scattered, his mind sluggish. He can’t concentrate on anything but the terror and the pain and the helplessness and he…

He just wants it to stop.

In answer to that desperate thought, a frightened whine slips past his lips, spontaneous and instinctual. He’s never heard a noise so plaintive before, never knew his throat could produce such a bestial sound. Still, deep down, the werewolf in him knows precisely what he’s doing.

He’s calling for his pack.

Stupid, he berates himself. You don’t have a pack. No one’s coming to save you.

And he’s right. No werewolf comes barging to his rescue. But…

The hands still. And gentle fingers brush through his hair in a soft, soothing motion.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” someone comforts him.

You’re safe now. The words sound so surreal, so alien, even though they’re all he’s been longing to hear for the past month. What wouldn’t he have given to have his family tell him everything would be alright, that he would be safe, when he walked home traumatized and terrified, with a werewolf bite marring his forearm? Or to have the first werewolf pack he met welcome him with compassion and kindness rather than fangs and claws?

It's too good to be true. He knows it is. No one wants to open their home to a wandering werewolf. That’s why he’s spent the last few weeks constantly hopping from place to place, taking refuge in damp caves or abandoned shacks, but never staying in one too long, for fear the local people would start accusing him of whatever misfortunes had befallen them recently.

He should be distrustful. Of course, he should. But this stranger’s voice holds so much tenderness and sincerity that he can only believe it.

Gods, how he wants to believe it.

While those delicate fingers keep stroking his hair, someone applies more of that irritating mixture to his injuries, and he winces.

“I know it stings, but we have to dress your wounds,” His savior continues on. “You’ll feel better afterward. I promise.”

Wait, they’re… helping him?

Surely, he can’t be this lucky. Who in their right mind would take in an injured werewolf?

Oh. Oh, wait, he understands.

This has to be a dream. A trick of his brain to appease him during his last moments. He must still be dying in the forest, frozen and alone.

And of course, he still hurts, because dying must hurt, but at least, this is… nice.

At least he can pretend someone actually cares.

So, when darkness creeps into his thoughts again, he doesn’t fight it, lulled by that gentle voice.

He wakes up not on the cold forest floor where he fell unconscious, but in the comfiest bed he’s ever slept in, bundled up in warm clothes. For a second, he basks in the pleasant sensation, his mind still foggy with sleep, but then panic sets in. He doesn’t know where he is, or who brought him here. Did the pack choose to take him prisoner, to prolong his torment? Or did someone else find him?

He cannot tell, cannot even take in his surroundings, because there is something wrapped tight around his face that blocks his vision. He claws at it to take it off, but before he can get rid of it, someone he didn’t smell or hear approaching grabs his wrist.

“Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

A warning growl rises in his throat, but quickly devolves into a coughing fit. Pain shoots through his whole body as he shakes and shakes, but lessens when cautious hands come to steady him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you might reopen your wounds if you mess with your bandages.”

Bandages? He slowly runs his fingers over the soft fabric that covers his head, and discovers that yes, the texture does fit that of bandages.  So, his dream about kind strangers dressing up his injuries…

Wasn’t a dream at all?

“I’m Jinu,” The man who startled him introduces himself. “I’m the one who found you in the forest and brought you here. I know you’ve been through a lot, and that you might not believe me, but you can rest safe. While you’re under my protection, no one will hurt you. You have my word.”

Another promise of safety, just as genuine as the first. It would surely bring him to tears, if his eyes weren’t hidden behind a thick layer of gauze.

This is real. This is all real.

He’s safe. He’s alive.

Someone… Someone really chose to save him. Even though he’s a cursed, good-for-nothing werewolf.

More than anything, he wants to ask why. Why go through the trouble of rescuing someone like him? Why risk hosting a werewolf under his roof?

But when he tries to voice the question out loud, pain flares in his throat and forces him to swallow the words back. He remembers, then. Remembers how he howled and screamed and shrieked and cried in agony while the pack attacked him, until he could make no more noise at all.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to speak,” Jinu murmurs, gentle. “You should try to drink and eat a little, though. You’ll need strength to recover.”

He gives a nod of agreement, and Jinu helps him sit in the bed, then brings a glass to his parched lips. The fresh water feels good on his tongue, but burns as it goes down his sore throat. Still, he gulps down as much of it as he can to soothe his thirst.

The effort costs him. His thoughts start getting all muddled. A sudden heaviness settles in his body. Jinu says something, but the words sound distant, as if he were talking underwater. Besides, it’s hard to concentrate on anything when the warmth of the bed is so inviting.

And before he can even register what’s happening, he’s already drifting back into sleep.

The next day, the same pattern repeats. And again. And again. Until he loses track of time.

He wakes up, is offered some water, drinks it, and, when he manages to fight the exhaustion long enough, eats meals mainly composed of tasty red meat and venison, then promptly falls back asleep.

Jinu takes care of him most often, but he’s not the only one. There’s also Romance, whom he quickly recognizes as the gentle stranger who comforted him when he was scared and everything hurt. And Abby, who has a big presence, big hands, and, he guesses, given on how he is always incredibly patient and considerate with him, an even bigger heart.

Once or twice, he also hears them talking to a sharp-tongued man named Baby, who, under the snark, sounds fiercely protective of them.

Baby’s keeping watch, he overhears one day. Making sure no pack attacks them.

Keeping him safe. Just like Jinu and Romance promised.

So, even though Baby doesn’t whisper soft reassurances to him the way the other three do, he’s still up there with them in his short list of favorite people.

He wishes he were awake more often, so he could get to know them better, or that his throat would finally heal, so he could thank them for all they’ve done for him. But, no matter how much he wishes his recovery would accelerate, his body remains frustratingly weak, and everything still hurts.

 So, in the end, he has no choice but to rest, and trust them with his life.

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand,” Romance muses while he covers the chest of their nameless guest with a clean bandage, his stare lingering on the ugly lacerations that besmirch his sickly pale skin. “Aren’t werewolves supposed to heal fast?”

“I’m just as confused as you are,” Jinu admits, his shoulders sagging. “In theory, he should recover even quicker than we do. I’ve got no idea why he isn’t getting better either.”

“He’s still feverish,” Abby sadly comments as he removes his large hand from the werewolf’s damp forehead. “And his wounds just won’t close. I know it sounds absurd, but… It’s like his body’s refusing to heal.”

“Maybe that’s because he’s rejecting his werewolf nature, rather than embracing it.”

All three vampires turn around at once, surprised to find Baby casually leaning against the bedroom’s doorframe. A faint blush spreads across his cheeks upon becoming the object of their undivided attention.

“Don’t gawk at me like that. I did my research, that’s all. A travelling mage who passed through the village the other day owned quite the interesting books about werewolves and let me take a look at them.”

“We just weren’t expecting you to show up here,” Romance remarks, a fond, teasing lilt in his voice.

“Or to care about our resident werewolf,” Abby adds. “Since you insist on keeping your distance from him.”

“Someone has to,” The smaller vampire grumbles. “We still have no idea who he is. If he turns out to be a threat, one of us must be ready to kill him. That’s why I can’t get attached.”

“That burden shouldn’t be yours to carry,” Jinu protests. “I’m the one who found him. If things turn awry, I’ll…”

“You’ll do nothing. Keeping you all safe has never been and never will be a burden. If I can shield you from harm, I will. So I won’t put you through the heartbreak of hurting someone you helped nurse back to health if I can avoid it. Besides, I didn’t spend days skimming through dusty old grimoires just for the benefit of a stranger I’ve barely met. I did it because I care about you, and you care about him. There’s nothing more to it.”

As the words spill, Baby grows even more flustered, just like he always does when begrudgingly exposing his feelings. With a silent look shared between the three of them, his husbands come to a silent agreement not to push him further.

Centuries of gently coaxing him into lowering the protective ramparts he’d built around his heart have taught them better than to dig head-on into matters he’s getting defensive about. Better let him come to terms with his feelings at his own pace. And then, once he’s ready, he’ll come to them.

They can, however, remind him of how much he’s wanted, which is precisely what Romance does next.

“Nothing more than our husband being considerate and loving to us, you mean? That still sounds like a lot to me, wouldn’t you agree?”

Without waiting for an answer, he closes the space between them with the grace of a feline and cups Baby’s flushed cheek in his hand, before tenderly pressing their foreheads together.

“We’re so lucky to have you always looking out for us. Always watching our backs, protecting our coven and keeping it strong. Being such an amazing partner for us.”

Predictably, his spouse reddens furiously at the praise and averts his eyes.

“You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it. That’s what I’m here for. Now, do you want to hear what I’ve found out about werewolves or not?”

“Just needed to make sure you know how grateful we are to have you in our lives,” Romance murmurs, lovingly stroking Baby’s face with his thumb one last time before pulling away. “But yes, of course, we want to know what you’ve discovered. So, from what I’ve gathered, our guest here hasn’t healed yet because he is fighting his werewolf side, is that it?”

“That’s my guess. Maybe what he endured at the claws of the pack caused this dissonance. Or he could be a newly turned wolf.”

“Is there a way to know? If he’s been turned recently, I mean?” Jinu inquires.

Baby nods.

“It might be a tough fit, given his state, but if you manage to spot the first bite he received, the one that turned him, it could give us an estimate of how long he’s been a werewolf.”

“I think I know where it is. Here, on his forearm,” Romance indicates. “The wound has scabbed over, so it must have happened before he lost the ability to heal. It still looks pretty recent, though.”

Baby edges closer to take a look at the scar, his expression turning somber as he examines it.

“Very recent. If what I read is true, I’d say he’s been bitten within the month.”

“I found him the morning after the first moon. This…” Jinu gestures at the many bandages wrapped around the young wolf’s body, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. “This must have happened during his first transformation.”

“What… What if he’s known nothing but violence from other werewolves?” Abby contemplates with increasing horror. “If that’s the case… Gods, no wonder he doesn’t want to be one of them…”

“And if he doesn’t reconcile himself with his werewolf side, he’ll never heal…” Romance sadly concludes

A heavy silence falls over the room. Until…

“I think I know how we can help him,” Jinu blurts out.

“You do?” Abby perks up.

“What do you have in mind?” Baby asks, more reserved.

“Well, if Abby’s right, what he needs to heal is to have other wolves show him kindness at last. Show him that he can belong. And we might not be werewolves ourselves, but we’re still shapeshifters. It might not work, but… It’s still worth the try.”

He wakes up surrounded by warmth, his face buried into… thick, soft fur? A little noise of confusion escapes him. Although his memories have been failing him lately, he clearly remembers falling asleep in cotton sheets. Not that he minds the change. This new addition to the bedding is pleasant, and, for some reason, scratches an itch deep in his mind.

It’s so comfortable, in fact, that he nearly drifts back into sleep, lulled by a gentle rocking motion he doesn’t immediately associate with breathing.

But then, his self-assigned pillow moves.

That’s when he realizes he isn’t resting on some faux fur blanket, but on a massive body.

Large, powerful muscles flex under his hands. The soft thud of a tail slowly wagging back and forth reaches his ears. A large snout presses against his cheek and covers it in affectionate licks while its owner releases happy, welcoming throat sounds.

The situation should probably freak him out, but instead, he feels nothing but peace. And as he blindly runs his hands over fluffy ears and along the line of a strong, elongated jaw, he finally understands why.

A wolf, he realizes. He is cuddling with a wolf. A huge, overly friendly wolf.

For a split second, his mind does conjure up the dreadful image of the pack that attacked him, but it doesn’t stick. Because, even without his sight, he can tell the gentle beast curled up around him is nothing like those brutish werewolves. Those looked stuck halfway between animal and man. They stood on two legs, had shorter snouts, and thin, coarse fur. And, as much as he’d like to forget about it, unnaturally long fangs and claws.

In comparison, the giant fur ball sprawled across his bed appears to be… well, just a plain, regular wolf. He could have almost mistaken it for an overgrown dog, if not for his acute sense of smell.

The wolf nuzzles him, so softly that it doesn’t even awaken pain in his wounds, but reluctantly pulls away when someone clears their throat.

“Give him some space, would you?” Jinu reprimands, though he sounds amused rather than truly upset.

A petulant huff answers the lighthearted command, and the wolf lowers its head on his bandaged chest nonetheless, though he does put a stop to the enthusiastic nuzzling.

“Sorry about that,” The other man apologizes. “Abby can be a bit demonstrative when he’s in this form.”

He opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t mind, but the ache in his throat prevents him from doing so. Then, the meaning behind Jinu’s words hits him.

Wait, Abby?

This wolf is Abby? The Abby who’s been taking care of him for days now, along with Jinu and Romance?

And Jinu sounds so casual about it, too, like this is completely normal. Like it isn’t unusual for people to turn into wolves at will. Like this is just part of their everyday life.

Which raises the next question, one that makes his chest tighten with fragile hope.

Could they…

Could they be werewolves, just like him?

He cannot ask them directly, not when his voice is failing him, but is there really any need to, when the cuddly wolf snuggled up against his side is evidence enough?

And these werewolves are nothing like the mean, brutal monsters who cornered him that first night and showed him no pity. No, they’re gentle and affectionate and kind and supportive, even though he’s done nothing to earn it, and they’re treating him like… Like…

Like you’re pack, his heart gleefully sings. You have found a pack.

His eyes water under the bandages, and his lips tremble as a sob of pure relief wracks through him. A coil of continuous pain he didn’t even realize was looped around his chest loosens at last. The second it disappears, air flows more freely into his lungs. He gasps in shock, taken aback by the physical impact the realization has on him.

In near immediate response to his quiet cries, reassuring arms pull him close and a cold, but infinitely gentle hand strokes his cheek.

“It’s over. You’re here with us now, not back in the forest with them. There’s nothing for you to fear,” Jinu whispers, misinterpreting his reaction as distress. “Abby can leave if he’s making you uncomfortable. We thought having another wolf by your side could help, but if it’s only bringing back bad memories…”

Those last two sentences, although motivated by nothing but good intentions, make him feel like he’s just been plunged into icy water. Panic floods every corner of his mind at the thought that he might’ve ruined his only chance at potentially joining a pack. He frantically shakes his head from side to side, and slips his fingers through Abby’s dense fur to show he’s fine with having him there; that the last thing he wants is to push him away. Anxious whines claw their way out of his tender throat, and he just can’t rein them back, no matter how much it hurts.

Abby must grasp the meaning behind those distressed, instinctive calls, because rather than moving away like Jinu suggested, he leans closer to his side and puts a paw over his shoulder, watchful and protective. As soon as he does, the werewolf’s anguish instantly recedes. Drained by this quick shift in emotions, he slumps against Jinu’s chest, heart still pounding fast.

“Alright, alright. Abby’s staying here. Got it,” Jinu murmurs softly against his hair. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m… sort of fumbling here.”

This candid admission sends a surge of warmth crashing down his chest. These men he barely knows, who picked him off the freezing forest floor out of sheer kindness… They’re trying so hard for him. Putting in so much more effort than his own family ever did. With them, he…

He doesn’t feel out of place.

Gods, he’d almost forgotten how that felt. But it’s such a warm, tender feeling that it makes him want to cry out of happiness again.

And so, when he inevitably gives in to exhaustion, it’s with a small smile on his lips that he falls asleep wrapped up in the comfort of Jinu’s arms.