Ian found the large, ice bucket behind the bar and sat atop it, silently glancing at the lake that stretched in front of him.

They had cleaned it all up.

The small, makeshift bar was once again clean and neatly organized. The parts of it that had broken were fixed, probably by order of the Beta.

No bodies littered the grass anymore; no hands nor feet nor heads lay shredded around. No eyes gazed up into the sky with horror carved into every visible line of their jugged skin, unseeing at their severed state.

Most of the blood that had pooled in the grass was gone too, probably absorbed into the soil, their roots. Ian wondered if the grass would turn red like one of their science experiments; when their teacher had poured ink into a vase full of white roses and the next day they'd turned a soft shade of blue.

He could see none of it, but the stench was still there.

The blood — its scent — was so strong that it overwhelmed his senses. He took it as a challenge, staying there, unmoving, torturing himself with the sweet aroma of what he usually called breakfast.

His father had taught him how to suppress the urges; to be able to control his thirst and never give in wholly to the calling of the blood. He brought him along to his trips, slowly teaching him about their businesses and how to run theirs if it ever was needed so money could run into the pack. And between it all, he would take him out for walks, or meals, to places overrun with humans. When he made a wrong move or his eyes changed colors, he would pull him away, calm him. Then he'd do the same the next day; and the day after that.

"Hey," a voice called softly. Ian jumped. It was rare that he'd lose himself in his thoughts so much that he didn't see what was happening around him. He had turned speech into the minimum, but he always observed, always knew what was happening around him. He'd be a very poor student if he didn't.

"Did you follow me here?" Ian asked.

He didn't like the idea of someone sneaking up on him like that, seeing him vulnerable the way that he was, not without his knowledge. Even her.

Sam shook her head. "I stopped by your house first. When Ben said you weren't there, I thought I had a pretty good idea about where to go next." Ian scooted to the edge of the wide bucket, barely staying atop it with one thigh almost hanging in the air. Sam sat down, looking every bit uncomfortable in her position as he was. But neither minded; it barely registered in Ian's mind as her warmth seeped from her thigh to his own.

She was always so warm...

She didn't speak, she waited for him to decide whether or not he wanted to talk about it. About her.

Ian took a big breath, but it felt brittle filling his lungs. "She speaks to me sometimes," he finally said. "Talks about what she wants us to do when I get back from one of my trips with dad. How she wants to grow older quickly so he lets her come too." His fingers picked at a loose strand from the side of his trousers.

"She always comes to me happy in my dreams. She hugs and laughs and teases me, 'till I tell her how beautiful she is, and then she shies away with red cheeks." He laughed then, a small smile playing on his lips, then it disappeared. "And then her laugh turns to screams as that wolf rips into her. Then she yells my name over and over again as she cries and begs for help — as the second wolf comes and slides his teeth into her throat—" He choked. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he didn't notice when they'd started to fall.

His fingers pulled at the loose thread, making it longer. He was shaking.

Sam covered his hand with her own, pressing their palms together and drawing soothing circles with her thumb to the top of his hand. He looked at her then, with glistening eyes and brows drawn together. "She yells for me, but there's nothing I can do." His lips wobbled with the strain it took to keep his voice stable, even as it shook and caught in his throat; he tried.

~~~~~

Sam carefully lifted her other hand, mindful of the one currently intertwined with his.

She didn't wipe away his tears, only pulled at the side of his head softly and let it rest on her shoulder as he wept. Her arm hugged his body onto hers and put in only as much pressure as was needed to keep her presence stable — real.

"It's all my fault," he croaked into the crook of her neck; and he repeated that same sentence over and over and over again.

Sam felt the prickle of tears in her own eyes. Ian had ran and ran from this for so long, that it hurt to see him wither away into his pain. And it was even more painful to see him now, head barely visible under her nose, as he blamed himself for her death.

She was there that day. Ian was coming back from his trip, his last one, and they had taken it upon themselves to throw a 'graduation party', as they'd so humorously called it.

They had laughed and danced the day out, drinking their fill and putting small doses of wolfsbane in their cups, just enough to get them to feel tipsy. Alcohol alone didn't affect them as much as they'd like, even in large doses. But a few drops of wolfsbane could do the trick.

Queen had stuck to her brother's side for the first few hours but found enough distraction in stuffing her mouth with the candy they'd prepared for her, that she ended up sitting or dancing beside them.

Sam could still recall the warmth of their skin touching as they danced, could still picture the way he'd been looking at her all throughout, and she could still feel how their lips had barely touched, feather-like, before blue, glowing eyes spread panic at the lake.

The patrol was informed of their plans so they had blocked the way before the rogues reached them.

They had been shredded and tossed like broken dolls.

Those hadn't been sickly wolves charging at them; they were new, barely into their insanity, as they snapped their jaws hungrily in the air. Most of the people gathered there had been able to escape and call for help, but not fast enough. They had all suffered there.

She remembered how the two rogues had kept Ian on the ground, ripping into his back; the one that now shook into her arms, unharmed, unmarred by their viciousness. He had wanted to keep those scars, he'd told her later on; to remember how he failed her, to do better. But the doctors had done their job too well, and their supply of blood had him healed and on his feet in the span of two long days.

Still, squirming on the grass, fighting to regain his footing so that he could go help his sister, he could only watch as the rogues tore her apart, delighted to feast on her flesh and drunk in the thrill of their hunt.

Samantha had been too preoccupied with fighting off a wolf herself, luckily a weaker one that hadn't done much damage, but she had still been too weak. Too slow to help.

Erik had flung himself in front of a wolf barreling toward Damian, and they had been too bloody themselves to do anything about it. They were also too late.

Alex was nowhere to be seen.

After that, Ian stopped fighting. He'd let those wolves carve into him, unmoving, even as the horror of it all had barely lasted a few seconds. Seconds that'd seemed like hours, days, months—

And yet the boy sitting next to her, the one that so easily blamed himself for all the blood that was spilled — her blood — had been the most innocent.

They sat there, silently; tears still leaking from their eyes as they watched the sun go down. And then she took him home.

*****

Sam took a deep breath and stepped into her house.

The first thing she noticed was the unnatural warmth of it. The smell of chocolate chip cookies freshly baked and the heat that no doubt came from the oven. Then her nose picked up on another scent, and her stomach dropped. She hurried to their living room, where her parents were welcoming her with smiles and soft words.

Right next to Ryan.

~~~~~

Val screamed as she rose from her bed, eyes frantically looking over the mirror.

Her skin had darkened again, colored with bruises and the unmistakable pain of broken blood vessels.

It'd started happening more and more frequently. She would have the same dream over and over again, about the figures that fought and changed into wolves, the ones whose eyes had cleared of the blur and red had set them ablaze.

She coughed up a little blood on her chest and whimpered, mouth shaking. Daphne and Zack didn't know how the spell would affect her, but this was certainly one of its after-effects. They said her wolf was trying to get out — shift. Something about the dream was setting her off. Anger, she felt.

Val had long since considered the figures to be her parents, but she never spoke the words aloud. Daphne's denial of talking about them only helped to keep her mouth shut.

Bone cracked in her hand, just below her wrist, and she cried out as she fell back, cradling it to her chest. It moved under her grasp, pushing over the surface of her skin, but it receded after a long moment, falling back to place. Her body was healing itself again. Slowly, but any sort of relief was better than the pain.

She stayed that way 'till her muscles relaxed and the burning stopped. Later, she woke to someone banging on the door.

Giving herself a slow once-over, Val was pleased to find that she was all healed up. She went to the door.

"Sam," she said, surprised, then noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Please help me," she sobbed, and Val shoved the door open, letting her fall into her arms. She was shaking all over, and she was cold, too cold for the weather, or her werewolf blood. "Are you okay?" she asked a minute later, sniffing the air and noticing the dried blood on her chest. Val nodded and led her to the couch.

"What happened?" she asked softly. Sam only shook her head.

"I called Alex, she's on her way."

Barely a minute later, Alex was looking down at Sam with the same look of concern written on her face. They brought her water and watched as she wiped her eyes in annoyance.

"It's Ryan." She finally looked at Alex, she stiffened. "I walked into the house and he was there, talking with my parents. They want to speed things up." The last sentence came out with a snarl. Val frowned.

"What did he do?"

Alex gave Sam a look and the redhead nodded solemnly.

"His parents are the Alphas of the pack near us," Alex said, "his older brother, the one you saw at the lake, will become the next Alpha, and Ryan will be his Beta." She glanced at Sam warily. "Ryan's parents proposed that they should mate, and that she should cross over to become the pack's Beta female."

Her stomach sank. Ian.

"Your parents?"

"They are all too happy about it," Sam growled, lips curling back. "They say it will help deal with our pack's disagreements, and my parents will love to sow all the benefits of me being a Beta." Suddenly the changes of subject and the looks Sam gave when she stirred the discussion to her family started to make sense. She'd seen them once from afar as they'd gone to pick her up. She'd called them nice for God's sake.

Val bristled, her wolf lashing out at the back of her mind with a clawed paw. "What about meeting your mate? You said your parents were mates, don't they want that for you? And what future would you have with him? Even if you agreed, you guys told me it's even harder to have a family without the bond, your wolves won't accept each other. You'd sooner rip each other apart."

Sam gritted her teeth. "There is a bond," she growled, "strong enough for it to work." Val tried to remember how it worked. It wasn't some miracle that just happened between two people; it was how their Goddess had ensured that their species survived. If the wolves matched, in some genetic way, they would feel a pull. It was stronger with some, but your mate was supposed to be the one who matched the closest to you, the one who would make you the happiest and create the strongest pups. It was survival, plain and simple. But also happiness.

"So don't do it," Val growled. "This is not a decision they can make for you, refuse it."

The redhead sprung up, hands splaying in the air. "How didn't I think of that!" she said sarcastically. "Yes, I'll say I don't want to and they'll leave me be!" Her green eyes bled with yellow as it glowed, lighting them up. The phone buzzed again on the table and she stood there, watching it, calming herself 'till it stopped. Twenty-two missed calls, the notification bubble read.

Oh boy.

Had that been Daphne, she'd already be digging her grave to make the kill faster.

A fist pounded on the door; Sam flinched. "He's here."

"Ryan?" Val tried to catch his scent.

Alex shook her head. "Her father."

The door shook with the force of his fists. Sam took a step forward, Alex stopped her with a hand and nodded at Val. She was too worried to address the anxious look in her eyes.

He all but charged in when she opened it. Nose flaring and eyes alight with rage. "Do you know how worried we were?" he seethed. "Your mother has been drilling holes in the floor with her pacing, how could you run off like that?"

"Oh, should I have stayed for tea with Ryan?" Sam mocked coldly, drawing her brows in. "That's what this is about, isn't it? I ran off when you were probably spouting how happy I was with your agreement! Did I embarrass you, father?" She glared at him with a force Val never wanted pointed at her.

Her father stepped through the threshold and Val stopped him with a hand to his chest. "I'll have to ask you to leave, sir," she said calmly, though she felt anything but. He scowled, ignoring her completely and trying to push past her. She only pushed back harder. He staggered back.

"This is a family matter," he said, "don't meddle in our business."

"Yet here I am," she bit out, "and this is my house." Alex was watching him warily behind her. Sam looked exhausted but angry.

"It's getting late," his voice toned down, "we need to go home."

"She has a place for the night," Val said sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll tuck her in myself."

"You will keep your mouth shut, pup," he spat. "I'm a gamma, you'll obey my orders." A hand shoved her harshly to the side and she got hold of it, turning it slightly and using it to pull him back, forcing him out. Alex was standing with her knees bent, ready to help if it came down to it. She thought she saw her shake.

"Good thing I'm not part of the pack yet, then." She gave a humorless laugh and he growled loudly. His clothes tore off with the shift, a brown wolf now snarled down at them.

There was a moment of panic. This wasn't a sickly wolf, Val couldn't take him. Even with Alex and Sam helping her, this was a trained soldier, they hadn't even shifted yet.

Her head pounded and she felt her bones shift in her body. Her wolf was snarling, clawing at the cage of her mind as the one in front of her crouched. She would not accept fear, he would regret coming to their house and she would rip him apart. Her blood sang in her veins.

With a shock, she stretched her fingers, feeling the tips of her claws. Horror seeped into her. This was Sam's father, her father! As twisted as he was, the pull she felt to rip his throat out was terrifying. He was still her family.

The headache receded enough for her to think clearly again. She pushed back her claws and looked up, too late to react to the wolf pouncing on her.

Alex screamed her name, stepping forward, while Sam called to her father. They were too slow.

Val shut her eyes and instinctively brought her hands up to her face, waiting for the blow. A strangled yelp had her jumping back a step instead.

The wolf was up on its hind legs, pressed harshly to the door. Daphne was standing behind it with Zack, a hand outstretched in a choking grip and eyes glowing a bright, ferocious green. She pushed harder, face contorted in rage. The wolf whined.

"You think you can barge into my house—" she pushed more as he thrashed, clawing at the door, "—and hurt my daughter?" Again. Small chunks of wood littered the floor, the wolf was howling in pain. Sam was silent, eyes wide.

It was like they weren't even there. For all their years of training, Daphne had never used her powers, she had never seen her do it. Watching her now was bringing out a new sense of aw in her.

Zack stepped in, putting a hand to the wolf's throat, face twisted into a snarl. Daphne pulled back and Sam's father slumped into the Beta's hold. "Henry," he growled up at him, then squeezed further as his eyes glazed over and he spoke to him through the pack link. The wolf's eyes widened, frantically hopping from person to person, looking at them for help. She almost laughed at that.

Zack threw him out and the wolf dropped low into its haunches, limbs trembling, as he bent his legs and stretched his neck to the side in submission. Zack motioned for him to leave and he obliged, looking back at him only once with such hatred, that Val had to flinch back.

Maybe that was the reason why he wanted his daughter to become the Beta female.

It made her sick all the same.

Zack didn't see Henry's last look when he turned, and Val knew they weren't permitted to change if it wasn't for a pack run. That was probably not what he growled through the mind link.

His gaze softened as he locked eyes with her. He looked for any wounds, squinting at the bloody stain on her shirt. She should probably change from that.

When he looked up, for all the worry in his eyes, he looked proud. Daphne's impression, though a lot more pissed off, was a mirror to his. With a wave of her hand, the door was back to its former plain, brown glory. "I guess we'll set you up for the night." She smiled warmly and Sam thanked her, still watching the door. Did they know about this? About her father? Why didn't they try to help?

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered before following Daphne inside, Alex on her tow. She didn't miss the slight terror remaining in the short girl's eyes, how her hands twirled the ring on her finger nervously. Val waved her away dismissively.

"Did you know about this?" She veered at Zack, holding him back before he could join the others.

"Yes," he sighed and held up a hand to stop her. "This is more than just pack rules to hold. I can't just forbid him to do anything that has to do with his family, not unless it's harmful in any way."

"It is harmful!" Val stressed, "to Sam." He pursed his lips.

"It's more complicated than that," he breathed out. And when she saw the exhaustion lingering in his eyes, she let the subject drop, If only just this once. He wouldn't hurt Sam, not willingly, so she trusted him enough for a bit of space. She'd bring it up again soon enough.

"And what's that?" he asked, nodding to the red stain. He pinched at the bridge of his nose tiredly.

Val grinned mischievously. "If I tell you he did it will you call him back here?"

He laughed. "Maybe." Then gave a pointed look. "She tried again?"

She nodded, lips pressed thin. "She's a lively one, this one." Val chuckled but he didn't smile.

"I need you to be completely honest with me when it comes to this, okay? We don't know how else you were affected by the spell. You might start growing horns on your head for all we know." One corner of his mouth twitched.

"They'll look good on me." She grinned, looking in the direction where Henry had run off to. "Zack?" He hummed. "How come I didn't see anything weird before? The growling, the howls... I couldn't have just missed those, right?"

His lips pulled into a grim, small smile. "When Daphne cast the spell, she made sure you wouldn't be able to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was for your safety..."

Val pursed her lips. She'd seen enough of her protection. And for all her right reasons, for all the honesty and worry, and the love, it just seemed like she'd hurt her more than helped her.

They walked inside to the others.