((Hey guys sorry I didn't update, I had a crap day, and had no idea of what to write.... But I'm back now. This chapter is a bit short, but I do have some ideas for the future so bear with me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :) ))

"Mark, we have no choice. Either you kill him, or I'm handling it myself."

The Swede speaks on the other end of the phone. Mark sighs gently and pushes a hand through his dyed red hair, his brown eyes moving to the basement door for the hundredth time.

"Maybe we don't have to kill him..."

The red haired man suggests softly, hearing the scoff on the other end of the line.

"There has to be a way to make him human..."

Mark continues before Felix has a chance to argue. The sigh that was let out of the Swede showed clear disappointment, and Mark could almost see his face palm. A few minutes of silence ensue, Felix actually seeming to think on the idea.

"I'll look into it...."

The Swedish man finally huffs, making Mark's mouth curve into a relieved smile.

"Keep an eye on him... and if I can't find anything, then he dies..."

Felix finishes in a serious tone before the phone clicks and he hangs up. Mark sighs dropping the cell phone from his ear and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb, his brown eyes move to the basement door again, where it had gone silent.

The red haired man pushes a hand through his hair before walking in, and silently smiling at the sight. Though still tied up Jack had fallen asleep, worn out from the day it seemed. His head hung lazily to the side and his green hair flopped over his forehead messily.

Hesitantly Mark walks over to him, and gently undoes the ropes that bound him. Red rope burns sat on his arms, and probably legs as well from where he was bound, though thankfully they had begun to heal. In less than a minute his arms were their natural pale color again.

Catching the Irish man before he toppled out of the chair Mark lifts him into his arms, bridal style. Jack's head laying softly against his chest, as his breaths came out evenly. The red haired man smiles slightly, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Jack did look cute when he was sleeping.

Sure he was technically a monster, however he was still fairly innocent. Jack had said it himself, he hated hurting people, but his instincts couldn't be ignored. It would be just his luck that one of his best friends was a beast, something he was expected to kill.

There had to be a way to save him though, there had to be something... or else... Mark would never see Jack again. The thought of that broke his heart.

Carrying the Irish man upstairs, Mark brings him to his bedroom, the only difference being that the window was barred. At first Mark had barred all of the windows to keep any wolf out, because once it got your scent, typically they would hunt you down.

However, now the bars were to keep Jack in, for his safety and everyone else's.

Mark gently lays Jack onto the bed, the green haired man instantly cuddling into the soft pillows, a small smile gracing his sleeping face. The red haired man grins gently again, and lifts the comforter up, placing it over top of the sleeping form.

Taking one last look at the man, Mark walks out of the door, locking it behind him.

~~~~~~Three Hours Later~~~~~~

The Irish man's eyes open slowly, his heavy eyelids struggling to stay open, he was exhausted.

Jack almost falls back asleep before he realizes where he was. Not in the basement tied up like before, but in a bedroom.

Sitting up quickly, his eyes instantly focus and his eyes scan the room, narrowing slightly.

"What the hell..."

He mutters under his breath, instinctively pushing a hand through his hair, recognizing the room as his own.

Was it a dream?

He thinks to himself silently, cautiously swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes travel down to his wrists, which before had red rope burns on the wrists, but now were their normal pale color.

He stands up on his slightly wobbly legs, his body slightly sore. Walking over to the bedroom door he hesitantly tests the doorknob. Locked...

"Guess that means it wasn't a dream..."

He murmurs to himself, scratching the back of his neck as his blue eyes scan the room again, landing on the window after a second. He walks over to the glass, and looks out, there were tough iron bars covering it, preventing any way out.

"Son of a bitch...."

He mutters in a soft growl, making his way to his bed once again and sitting down, his eyes bore into the door, waiting for it to open, or something. But nothing happened. How long was Mark planning to keep him in here? And more importantly....

Why didn't he kill me...?