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.”