Wulfric

It wasn't working.

I had been trying to become human for almost an hour, and it simply was not working. I had tried to will myself to be human, and when that failed, I tried to convince myself that it was something I truly wanted. The trouble was, I had never been good at lying to myself. Even with the price of vampirism and even with my throat aching with thirst, there was no changing the fact that I wished to remain as I was.

I sank deeper into the couch and looked over at Griffin just as his eyes darted over to try and steal a glance at me. It was a little amusing, the way Griffin tried to pretend he wasn't focused on me.

"Is everything okay?" Griffin asked in the tone of one who knows that the person they are asking is very much not okay.

"It isn't working," I confessed, growing a little irritated with my failure. None of my siblings before me had had any trouble at all with releasing themselves of the curse. It had been a simple thing, done in moments. Done so quickly, none of us had ever understood it was a choice and not a compulsion. Yet here I was, still a vampire after – I glanced at the clock and sighed – fifty minutes of failure.

"Hm," Griffin hummed. "It's supposed to be a want, right?"

I nodded hesitantly. If he suggested that I hadn't been trying to want to be human, I might slam my head on the table.

"Let's try and focus on the positives. I know this isn't what you would have chosen for yourself, Wulfric, but there must be some ways this would make your life better? Won't it be great to get to eat food again?"

I made a face. The idea of eating solids was completely repulsive to me at the moment, but there had been times I'd craved it. So, what would be good about being human? "Well-"

"No!" Griffin cut me off. "Don't say it out loud. I don't want you to get in your head about it. This is just for you, to make you feel better. I don't need to know what you're thinking right now."

It took me a few moments to understand. Griffin might expect me to become preoccupied with making sure I gave reasons he would approve of instead of focusing on the exercise. It was very thoughtful of him. "Thank you."

"No problem. Now, close your eyes and concentrate."

I did as I was told, shutting my eyes and meditating on the prompt: what would be good about being human?

The first and only reason that came to mind immediately was making my brother and Griffin happy. It took several long minutes before I could name anything else.

If I considered my current existence, I was a parasite. I took in the vitality of others to preserve myself. Perhaps that was not so different from eating meat to survive, except for the critical difference: I wasn't preying on beasts, but on humans. And even though some dark part of me preferred to continue that rather than accepting humanity, that wasn't how I truly felt.

Was that enough to do it? Could that be enough to convince myself to embrace humanity?

Apparently not, since I still felt the same.

I searched within myself once again for a reason to become human, and came up blank. There must be something, surely.

I registered the sound of Griffin getting up and moving around the room, then sinking down onto the couch next to me. His hand gently rested on my arm and he asked, "Wulf? Would you rather leave this until tomorrow? It doesn't have to be now."

The words relaxed a tension I hadn't been aware of carrying. Griffin was right, of course. I could choose to remain myself for another day, but I wanted to get this resolved sooner. It would be a drain on the witches to have to remove the curse from me as well as Edmund and my father, and my pride prevented me from allowing such an outcome. Knowing that Griffin, at least, would not think less of me for it was a relief.

Though, I was still determined to do this, myself. Even though I once again did not have a choice in my fate, this would at least give me the illusion of control.

"Wulf? Would you rather wait?"

I had forgotten Griffin asked a question until he repeated it. "No," I answered as firmly as I could manage. "Now is better."

"Okay," Griffin answered. My lips twitched at his easy acceptance, but my pleasure was short-lived. Just seconds later, Griffin let out a small gasp and the rich aroma of his blood flared through the room.

My eyes shot open to see him clutching his hand to his chest, blood soaking into his shirt and spreading across the grey fabric. "What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I thought this might help," he said, sounding strained.

"You thought it would help?" I echoed, not bothering to hide my disapproval.

Griffin held out his hand and swiped a finger through the blood pooled there to show that the skin had already closed. He held it up in offering. "If you're going to stay a vampire, you need blood. And I won't let you take it from people who don't know what they're giving up. If you do this, you take it only from me."

What was he on about? I ran Griffin's words through my head again, hoping that might help me make some sense of them. It did not. "I'm not going to remain a vampire," I said. Had he thought I would change my mind? Even if I wanted to, Roderick would never allow it.

Griffin's answer was to hold his cupped, bloody hand under my nose. "That's really up to you, now, isn't it? Go on, I'm giving you permission."

"No," I said, and it came out in a whisper.

"Are you sure? You always liked my blood before."

Why did Griffin have to bring that up? Maybe it was the connection we shared, or something about werewolves, or maybe Griffin, himself, was inherently delicious, but it was true that he had always tasted incredible. The ache in my throat flared past discomfort and into pain, and I licked my lips reflexively. It would be easy, so easy, to reach out for just a taste...

"No." I pushed Griffin's arm away and repeated, "No. I won't. I don't want to."

Not when I knew the cost. Even if Griffin was willing to give so much to me, I would never let him.

A strange sensation rushed through my body, a sizzling spark that started in my core and quickly radiated out into every cell. It was a sort of fizzing, and my heart started racing in my chest so fast and so loud, I wondered if the rest of the pack house could hear it even through the soundproofing around Griffin's unit. Dark spots danced in my vision, and I shut my eyes to fight off a wave of dizziness. My nose tingled and burned, my mouth went dry, and my limbs felt suddenly heavier.

It didn't take long for all the strangeness to die down, leaving me in a body that was both mine and not mine. My eyes opened and I squeezed them shut again. Everything looked like it had passed through a filter. My whole field of vision was duller, with lines not as sharp and colors not as vibrant. I squinted at the fabric of the couch under my face (since when had I been laying down?) and noted that I could no longer see any differentiation in the threads. They all looked to be a uniform color, when I knew they were actually many slightly different shades of grey.

I reached up with a clumsy hand and felt to make sure my nose was still there and unobstructed. There used to be a world of sensory information in this room alone, with the air telling me the story of who had been here recently, what cleaning products had been used, what food had been present, and what material the furniture was made out of. I used to be able to read all that and more by simply breathing, but now I just smelled a faintly floral scent coming out of the couch.

I tried to sit up, and Griffin helped pull me straight. My body felt like it was weighed down.

I knew what all this meant. I was human now. Somehow, Griffin's stunt had pulled me out of my obstinate vampirism, and now I was reduced to a mere mortal.

I didn't like it.

In fact, with every second that passed, I hated it more. All of my senses had dulled so much that I felt exposed and vulnerable. Griffin waved his hand under my nose again, and instead of smelling appealing, the blood on his hand was coppery and made my stomach turn. It only served to further emphasize how changed I was, and I felt tears prick in my eyes.

Griffin left, and I thought he was just giving me a moment alone until I heard the water running and he raced back, hands clean of blood, to wrap me in a warm hug.

"It's okay," Griffin whispered, but I didn't answer him, because I didn't agree. "It's okay not to be okay," he added, rubbing my back in soothing circles.

That was apparently what I needed to hear, and I melted into his hold. "I'm so sorry," Griffin whispered.

So was I. This could have been a happy event for Griffin, but all I could think of was how weak I felt, how slow and... imperceptive. I could no longer smell Griffin's unique scent or hear the constant, comforting thrum of his heart pumping in his chest. The thought of living like this for the remainder of my short life was almost unbearable.

We didn't move for a long time, not until Griffin shifted in discomfort and whispered, "I'm getting hungry. Are you?"

I swallowed, though nothing went down since my throat was bone-dry. I was hungry, yes, but more than that, I desperately needed some water. The trouble was that the thought of eating or drinking anything made me feel fragile, almost like crying. But it didn't matter how this made me feel; what mattered was that my body needed it, and delaying would not change the inevitable outcome. I would drink water and eat food, or I would die.

And I was not ready to die.

"Yes," I admitted.

Griffin shifted so he could study me, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm going to go downstairs to get us some food," he decided. "Is there anything in particular you want or don't want?"

I hadn't even contemplated how it would be to go down to his pack's dining room and eat my first meal in such a public space. I could only imagine the attention it would garner. Attention was inevitable, after all the quiet fuss his pack had made when they discovered a vampire was among them. They were never overt or rude about it, but I had been aware of their attention nonetheless.

"Wulf? Food?" Griffin prompted when I took too long to respond. Would I always feel this overwhelmed? Maybe Griffin would have to get used to being patient with me.

"Whatever you're having will be fine," I said, because it was easier than making a decision.

Griffin gently kissed my temple and left, his feet hitting the floor so softly I couldn't hear them at all. While he was gone, I took the opportunity to test my legs. They felt so weak, it was hard to believe they would be able to support my body weight. If I fell, let it be while I was without an audience. It would have probably looked comical to any bystanders, the way I clutched at the arm of the couch while I carefully placed first one foot, then the other on the floor and gingerly raised myself up to standing. My legs held, though I still felt terribly weak. Rationally, I had expected this outcome; after all, none of my siblings had been invalids after their return to humanity.

Next, I tried lightly jogging across the room. Even such a mild exertion as that made my breath come faster. I stepped into the bathroom and examined myself in the mirror. It was strange to see myself through my new eyes, but I didn't think I was much changed. The red tint to my eyes had gone, leaving a rich brown shade I didn't recognize. That was the only major difference I could discern.

Griffin returned while I was examining my teeth in the mirror, trying and failing to extend the canines into fangs. He laughed a little when he saw me, and it felt good to hear laughter even though I wasn't ready to join him yet.

While Griffin set two full plates on the little kitchen table, I fetched two glasses of water. Now that there was food in front of me, giving off an appetizing scent, I found that I wasn't so reluctant to eat, after all. Griffin settled in front of a plate that looked much the same as usual: a begrudging helping of vegetables drowned out by fries and a dripping barbeque sandwich, with some additional meat on the side that I thought might be brisket. His dinners were usually smothered in sauce and primarily protein. I was charmed to see that my plate was entirely different. Griffin had opted to give me comfort foods. Baked chicken, a salad of leafy greens and tomatoes, a buttered roll, and a baked potato with toppings on the side.

"I'm not sure what you used to eat when you were human, but I thought simple might be better."

"It's perfect," I said. And it was. The thoughtfulness erased any hesitation I had left, and I snatched up the roll to take a bite. The outside was covered in a thick crust, with the inside still warm and soft from the oven. It was heavenly, and I eagerly ate some more. Griffin smiled to himself but didn't comment. We cleared our plates in companionable silence.

When Griffin stood to collect the dishes and take them back downstairs, I stopped him before he could go. He stared up at me while I searched for some words to express how much his support meant today. I didn't think I could have made the transition without the little stunt he pulled, and I could only imagine what it had cost him to offer me such a sacrifice without any guarantee I wouldn't accept. And then his quiet support had transformed my first meal from something I dreaded into something warm and inviting.

In the end, there was only one thing I could say: "Thank you."