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A/N - Short change of perspective for this story. Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving holiday (if you're in the US).

All characters fictional. New London (No relation to actual New London, NH) and Thompson State Park are fictional.

Chapter 11 - The Price of Revenge...Regret

"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

Friedrich Nietzsche

New London, NH

October 21, 2011, Simultaneously with the Laboratory Raid

As the small convoy of cars approached the secluded farmhouse, Stark and I sat in silence, mentally preparing ourselves for the upcoming raid. The growing tension was thick in the air, an unnerving, electric feel that filled the suburban. We had about a half dozen men filling the vehicle, including Stark and I. I just prayed silently that my precious Sarah was all right.

"David," came a voice from my left. "David, you understand what we're going to do, right? Any you understand what I expect from you?"

The questioning note from Agent Stark came through clearly. I couldn't blame him, though. This broke every rule in the books, me going after my own daughter, but I also knew that I needed to keep myself in check. Mike had been right, I didn't need to give these killers any more ammunition to try and destroy my kind. I had promised him, and myself, that I would control myself, the shame I still felt from our first meeting bubbling up within me, making me feel as if I was a monster for how I treated him...and how he simply forgave me.

"Yes, sir," I responded. We're going in through the woods about half a mile west of the cabin. From there you and I are going upstairs, and Deputies Waters and Williams will be going downstairs with Officers Miller and Raymond at the ground level. The objective is to secure the building, secure any hostages and suspects and make safe any explosive devices found."

We were a motley crew. Because of the disastrous nature of the current state of affairs with respect to public safety, there were nowhere enough trained tactical officers or agents in this small, sleepy hollow to form a proper single-agency team, so we had four separate departments represented here. Stark represented the lead as the Bureau SAC for the area, I had been essentially hijacked from the Marshals, we had a pair of deputies from the town, as well as a pair of local officers. Thankfully, some of these other officer had some basic tactical training, nowhere near the amount we would have liked, but they had one other advantage.

All of us, other than Stark were Lycans.

That may seem like a minor quirk, given that we would be performing the raid in our human skins, but we still had a few strengths that would significantly help. We may not have had our superior senses as we would in our lycanthropic form, but the brain was an amazing tool and it could easily relate information from the human senses into data that no other human could detect. We had just that little edge, the ability to read other people just that little bit better.

Hopefully that would be an asset today, because we needed every bit of help we could get.

"Yes, that's the plan, but do you understand what I need from you?"

Apparently, Stark still questioned me, and I needed to assure him that I could be trusted.

"Stark, I am a professional. I will keep everything in check."

"And if not?"

"There's no if, sir. I promised Mike I would keep myself in control and not let any other instincts take over. I acted poorly the first time I met Mike, and I owe him the knowledge that I can be trusted. He may have given it to me willingly, but I need to earn it. He saved my daughter after I almost killed him, and could have shot me, but didn't. He's a better man than I can ever hope to be. I...I was going to ask him to be a Godparent for Sarah."

At that, Stark's expression softened a little bit and he laid a hand on my leg. "Don't worry, we'll get her back. And, Mike's one of the best judges of character I've ever met, even if he's a sorry, misanthropic bastard much of the time. If he trusts you, I'll have to."

As silence regained its foothold across the suburban, I recognized that Stark was just a little too calm and understanding about this whole scenario. Most people, on learning that there are 'monsters' that exist in the world completely lose touch with reality. Mike had been pretty tight lipped about everything, but from what I had heard about him from other members of the local pack, he was resiliant as hell, and never gave in. Stark, seemed similar, but there was a hint of regret that I could detect whenever he talked about giving me the benefit of the doubt or, really, any time my species came into play in a conversation.

"Sir, if I may ask, how did you learn about Lycans? You just seem too composed and I can tell you have something that you are not saying."

"David, almost every senior supervisor in law enforcement in the United States knows about Lycans. We have to, but...I knew about them far before I even joined the bureau. I spent six years of my misguided youth in the jungles of Vietnam. One day, my patrol was ambushed by a small squad of NVA regulars and I took a round to the chest. Most of the rest of my squad was cut down instantly...all but one. One of our gunners somehow avoided the fusillade and returned fire. He managed to prevent them from overrunning us, but they still kept firing at our demolished patrol. I was floating in and out of consciousness from my blood loss. All I know is that I was lifted up onto the shoulder of something big and hairy and brought off the trail into the jungle.

I was in and out of consciousness for three days, before I saw them. A squad of recon marines had made their way to the cave and were able to finally stabilize me and start the extraction. As we made our way back to our lines, I saw what to me at the time was a werewolf hefting an M-60 in a single hand helping to carry me. Starting in fear, it apparently felt me shift and looked at me, amber eyes boring into mine. 'LT, take it easy. We've got you.' Those words, combined with the rabbit's foot attached to the dogtags around the creature's neck startled me. The only man I knew that carried that rabbit's foot was our gunner, Cpl. Ray Thompson.

We made it back, and I recovered, becoming friendlier with Ray, and trying to learn as much as I could about him and his people. I found that Lycans were just as human as I was and that the monstrous stories were just that, stories. From that event, I found him to be one of the most trustworthy and honorable men I had ever met, and he became a close confident and friend, one of the few I had. Sadly, after I left Vietnam, I read in the papers that Ray had been awarded the Silver Star for his actions in an ambush. Posthumously. He acted as the rear guard in a massive ambush near the Trail. His actions saved his whole platoon as they fell back to regroup and counterattack, but once they had retaken, they found Ray's body, surrounded by dead attackers and empty shell casings. A few weeks later I received a letter in the mail, from Ray.

He was asking me to meet his parents and be his messenger of his death, to be the 'message of his life', as he put it. He just couldn't stand the thought of his parents being visited by some chaplain and officer who had never met their son, and felt that I would be the best ambassador he could use.

They, honestly, welcomed me into their family. Apparently, Ray had pre-written them about me, and told them of what I meant to him, of how I had become the closest thing to family that he had across the seas. We still meet every Christmas and every summer we meet at the wall to pay our respects.

I owe Ray my life, and I know what Lycans truly are, as much as any human can. That is why I am willing to take the chance on you."

I sat there in silence, stunned. Here I was, having been completely out of control and bent on revenge when I met this group of men, but they were trusting me based on nothing more than their history. I felt honored and disgusted with myself at the same time. I moved to say something, but the words just couldn't form as we pulled off the road a half mile from the farmhouse.

Nothing else would be said...nothing else could be said.

We made our way quickly through the woods, myself and one of the deputies taking the lead with a pair of hunting rifles that had been acquired from the locals. We only had Stark's M4 and a pair of Benellis between our groups for additional firepower, but we didn't have much time to prepare. Coming up to the edge of the woods, myself and the deputy edged forward, scanning the farmhouse.

The farmhouse was old, but well-kept. The two-story building was set back about 500 yards from the edge of the woods, and covered in peeling white paint. The shingled roof was in decent shape, and its dark color stood in stark relief to the white exterior. Peering through the scope, I scanned the roof and the second story windows, looking for any signs of activity, finding none. Making a quick signal to go, all six of us started across the barren land surrounding the farmhouse. This was the most dangerous part of the raid. The barren farmland made a great field of fire, and if these bastards had any sense they would be able to take us out before we even made the farmhouse.

Somehow they didn't even try. Something here felt off, a cold chill running down my spine that I couldn't place.

We all stacked up on our respective entrances. Stark and I, as well as the two deputies would be entering one entrance while the officers would be going in from the other side. This secured the two exits and hopefully would stop anyone from escaping. On a pair of radio clicks in my ear, I signaled Stark with a tap on the shoulder and we started inside. What met us as we made our way inside made my blood run cold.

Even as the door opened, the stench of death assaulted me, the coppery stench of blood thickly filling the air.

"Jesus Christ," breathed a voice from the radio in my ear. "It's a massacre." Then in a more professional tone, "Multiple subjects down, looks like a mauling."

Quickening our step, our group split up, following our prior plan. Meanwhile, I'm trying to connect all of the dots in my head. A mauling? The local pack wouldn't do this. What the hell happened here? And where's Sarah?

Quickly shoving my fear to the back of my mind, I continued up the stairs, my sidearm in my hands in a low-ready position as we approached the door to the upper floor. Stacking up, I felt Stark's tap on my shoulder and we went in.

The smell of death became overpowering as the door swept open. Fighting back the urge to gag at the stench, I entered the room and found myself in a long hall. It was apparently a meeting room of some form, but what we found was horrifying. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, clotted, coagulated blood pooling beneath them as large pawprints crossed the room.

"No, It can't be," I uttered, completely dumbstruck at the carnage. I had heard of the Lycans who went completely batshit, but never seen the results. This carnage was just horrifying on any level. I just looked at Stark and shook my head, the anger in my mind portraying itself on my face.

We quickly crossed the room of death, coming up to a door. Just on the other side I could hear muffled shouting, and I quickly motioned to Stark that this was it. A quick tap and my boot met the door with a solid thud.

"Federal Agents. Search Warrant." Stark and I stormed into the room, half expecting to find some psychotic lycan feasting on the body of my daughter. My .45 was up and my eyes scanning the room as I saw a pair of sights, one that warmed my heart...and another that chilled it to the bone.

Sarah was directly in front of me, bound with wire and looking a little worse for wear, but still alive and kicking, in this case literally. She was being held as a shield by an older man with salt and pepper hair, ruddy skin and clothed in a black t-shirt and camouflage pants. A silver blade was pressed against my daughter's neck, a thin trickle of blood coming from under the blade. I had no shot, though. If I fired, I would hit Sarah. I had to try to talk him down.

"US marshals. Let her go, and put down the knife." 'Come on you bastard. Give me a shot.'

"It's not what you think." He started. "She's a monster. Let me kill her. These beasts want to kill us all and the government wants to let them."

Wait. What? Where the hell is he getting this from? My mind went back to my conversation with Mike on the way up here, that short time ago. Back to how Mike had been willing to risk himself for Sarah, even after only knowing her for a few hours. I had made a promise, but really didn't want to keep it. This bastard deserved death...But I was a man of my word...Damn honor.

"She's just a girl, let her go. She can't hurt you. I promise." Glancing over at Stark, I saw that he had is sidearm trained on the subject, and I lowered mine, hoping to present a less-threatening profile.

"Lies. They all grow up to be killers and mass murderers. They want to take over the government and most of the FBI won't believe it."

"Okay. I'm with the US Marshals. This is Special Agent Stark. Both of us are aware of the threat posed by these creatures, but you've been killing lots of innocent humans. Normal people." I had to try and bait him to get him to let the girl go...to trust us. This guy had black helicopters...well, black wolves I guess, on the brain, so I had to stoop to his level.

"No, Dalis told us that all of the targets were werewolf frequented. The daycare, the towns we struck, the malls, all of them."

At the mention of Dalis' name, I looked over at Stark who simply seemed just as lost as I was. My left hand snaked down toward my hip, slipping out a phone, on which I quickly pulled up CNN. Of course the attack on New England had top billing. Carefully placing the phone on the floor, I slid it over to this guy.

He bent down, still using Sarah as a human shield. My blood was boiling, a low growling, roiling anger sitting just behind my conscious mind, begging me to be released...my animal instinct. It just wanted to rush this bastard and rip him apart. Biting back my beast, I shot a quick glance and smile at Sarah, seeing the fear in her eyes. She nervously smiled back, but didn't betray me. Thank God. She knew as well as I did that if this guy knew I was a Lycan, he'd take that as a confirmation and kill Sarah before Stark and I could do anything.

His eyes grew wide as he saw the target list...the death toll still coming out, seeing the malls where the bodies still lay, covered with yellow tarps. I let out a silent sigh of relief...we have a chance.

"I...I...I didn't know. I gave Dalis full control over everything outside of this park...He promised there would be no humans hurt...It was supposed to be a surgical strike."

I flashed a quick glance toward Stark and thought I saw a quick nod. I took a chance. "It wasn't. It was an act of revenge and hatred. We understand what you are afraid of. These Lycans are known many of us in the government. We work with them to police their ranks. They have their killers and we have ours. That one's just a young girl. Put the knife down and let her go. There's been enough death today." I slowly lowered my pistol to a low-ready position, out of the way, but still there if this guy did anything stupid, but I prayed that he didn't.

The old man's arm wavered, his mind still processing what he had seen on my cell phone. I sent a silent prayer, asking every deity that could be conceived to protect my daughter and bring a stop to all of the killing. Please God, just give me this one wish.

The knife clattered to the floor, its wielder slipping to his knees, hands interlacing behind his head.

"Oh thank God."

Stark was already moving toward the subject, pushing a stunned Sarah away, towards me, and forcing the suspect to the floor on his stomach, securing his hands and reading him his Miranda rights as Sarah ran towards me.

That hug almost knocked me over. I had just managed to slip my sidearm in its holster when she bowled me over in joy. As I returned the hug, I felt just an overwhelming sense of joy overtaking me, my mental tail wagging to break the sound barrier. Again, I was biting back that animal joy from this miracle.

Is we hugged, I looked up, seeing a pair of small, faded framed photographs above the desk at the rear of the room. Two young boys, looking no older than Sarah stood in a position of honor overlooking the room. From Mike's description, I wondered if the two boys were the two that he had met in the park that deadly night, but something within me said no. I had this nagging feeling that I had seen them before.

I felt the sobbing, wriggling mass in my arms and heard her joyous cries of daddy, seeing no response from the subject to her outbursts.

"I love you, Sarah. Now I need to get up."

As Stark stood, a look of horror crossed his face as he strode past me, toward a tarp covered box. A quick glance under the tarp and his hand shot to the portable radio, tripping the emergency call button, sending an inhuman screech through the air. He looked at me and Sarah, the look of shock on his face was terrifying.

"Bomb. Five minutes. We gotta go."

Fuck. "Sarah, downstairs. Stark, go, I got him." Sarah fled out the door, following my command without the hint of delay, as I hefted the cuffed man to his feet and started leading him quickly toward the door. Stark headed forward toward the door, just getting through it when a hidden gate in the hallway tripped, trapping myself and my prisoner in the room.

"Fuck." I struck the cage, feeling it rattle solidly. It wasn't going anywhere. "Stark, toss me your cuff key. Get out."

"I won't leave you. We have a saw in the car...we can..."

"No, there's not enough time. I'll find another way."

"There isn't one," came a voice from my prisoner. "The windows are reinforced to stop anyone from breaking in...or out and it's a 30 foot drop to the ground."

"I've got a plan." ...I hope, I silently added.

Going over toward the bomb, I opened the cover, looking to see what it looked like. It wasn't pretty. It was plated with thin metal sheeting, steel was my guess from the malleability I could sense. The inner workings were a mess of wires leading to a pair of power supplies, solenoids and igniters inserted in enough plastic explosive to level the building. The canister of gasoline that made the centerpiece of the display meant that the device would start a fire, so even if we survived the explosion, we would still need to survive the fire.

From behind me, I heard someone speak, and I swung around, hand on my holster. Seeing no one, I then recognized that the small computer on the desk had come on and a voice was beginning to emanate from the speakers.

"Hello, Thomas. By now you've figured out that you won't be leaving here. Not under your own power."

Beside me, I felt my prisoner stiffen and gasp...apparently it was aimed at him. Beneath the speech, there was something I could hear...some underlying anger and fury, barely concealed and feral...I had only heard it once before, in audio recordings of a feral Lycan who attacked a group of children over three decades ago. But...Dalis wasn't one of us...was he?

Looking at the screen, I caught a telltale glint in the eyes of the figure speaking and saw that this man did carry the same curse and blessing that I did.

Crap.

"All those years ago, you murdered my brother. I can still smell the burnt flesh and hair as you burned him alive...all for your petty prejudices. All of you, you pathetic creatures, hate what you do not know, and we will be your undoing. You felt you could stop what was needed. You cannot. For your hubris, you will die as my brother did, roasting in a conflagration of your own making. As you watch this, a timer is counting down. Welcome to hell."

With that final curse, the screen cut to a timer, showing that we had two minutes to get out. Having seen the bomb, I knew I couldn't disarm it. I started looking for escape routes, finding none that were easily accessible. The drop from the window would kill any man and the door was securely gated, meaning that we had no way out...except that one.

Hearing that description of the apparent murder of Dalis' brother made me remember that that was what this man wanted for Sarah, but something other than just my promise kept me from just saving myself. The problem for both sides of me was that I didn't know why. The human side wanted to remember while my instinctive side just wanted to protect my daughter from him...permanently.

I really didn't want to use this plan, but had to...at least he already knew.

Doing a quick frisk of the prisoner to make certain that he had nothing that could potentially harm me, I started to prepare my prisoner for my plan.

"Tom...that is your name," I asked.

"Yes, Tom Michaels" my prisoner replied. "What are we going to do?" The fear was evident in his eyes.

I should have just left the guy to die, this was the bastard who had a hand in kidnapping my daughter not once, but twice... but that name triggered a memory, one that most every local Lycan knew, taught to us from when we could first understand the ideas of good and evil, much as the names Jack the Ripper and Ted Bundy are known to most humans...but not for the same reason.

William and Riley Michaels were two young boys slaughtered by a feral over three decades ago. The police covered it up, saying it was an animal attack. Define that attack as you may, but it was not ruled as a homicide. The father had reportedly committed suicide almost immediately thereafter...apparently the reports of his demise were rather exaggerated.

This killer had actually been found and executed rather quickly, but, of course, we couldn't tell the boy's father. I had always wondered 'what if' but know I knew that this man apparently had a clue about what happened...and wanted to do something.

That feeling I could understand...fuck. There's not really any other option.

As the displayed timer broke through 90 seconds, I started to focus on my only way out.

I felt the shift starting as a burning wave swept over me, feeling like a mild cramp in my chest. The prickling of my pelt growing, pushing out of my pores punctuated the cramping crossing my chest. I knew I had to warn my prisoner of what was going on before he did something real stupid.

"Nnngh. Thomas, I'm not going to hurt..nngh you." The discomfort started sweeping through my body. Forcing changes during the day never felt good for me, even if other Lycans, including Sarah and Amy, reveled in it. I felt my other self starting to come forward as the cracking and snapping of bones and joints filled the room. I felt my shoulders widening, new muscle shaping itself from their not so meager counterparts within my human skin. The cramping continued into my arms as the change pushed out, thickening my arms and tipping my hands with clawed digits capable of ripping a man apart, claws which I used to quickly shred my belt and undo my vest straps before they started really hurting.

The change progressed through my legs, joints popping painlessly as the cramping became almost an endorphin high with the intense pain being followed by suffusing warmth as the change passed the different parts of my body. Now on digitigrade paws, I felt my tail snake its way out from my spine, trapping itself in my boxers, them, my Kevlar and borrowed Sherriff's Department raid jacket being the only things still clothing me.

Finally, I felt my pelt pushing out across my face as my mouth and nose pushed forward, snapping and cracking as it went, pulling into my muzzle. I felt my tongue growing and flattening, running it along new, sharper teeth. My senses exploded as my I could experience smells that no human could, and, once my ears had completed their migration, hear sounds that no human could. I could smell the explosive and gasoline in the box against the wall, hear the whine of the capacitors within the computer, counting through 45 seconds. And over it all were the twin stenches of fear and anger.

"You bastard...You're one of them."

I saw Thomas trying to scoot away from me, trying to get himself up so that he could run, but failing. I grabbed his leg quickly, unintentionally growling softly, and pulled him back towards me.

"Yeas, I am a Lycan. I'm also Sarah's father, but right now, I'm your only chance. Don't be stupid." With that, I pulled him into a bear hug, feeling him trying to claw at me, but failing to penetrate my thick hide.

"Dear God, please work," I breathed as the timer counted through thirty seconds. Reaching the nearest window, I kicked it, seeing it star under the impact. Crap, Safety glass. Three more kicks and the destroyed pane fell from the large window. I threw myself, with my cargo still trying to fight me, as the timer passed the ten second mark.

I felt myself sliding down the sloped roof and tried to maximize my speed, aiming my paws forward, feeling the rough shingles gouging out my back, but my speed steadily increasing.

Reaching the edge of the roof, I felt myself go weightless. Twisting myself vertical as best I could, I bent my knees and prayed for the best. My eyes followed the treeline, feeling myself falling and the ground closing quickly. Bracing myself, I waited for impact with the frozen ground.

And I struck hard. I felt the impact reverberate through my entire core as I let my legs flex, feeling a searing sensation of pain shoot through my ankle as it rolled. I rolled to the right and struck the ground hard, seeing stars as my shoulder struck and losing control of my right arm as the pain shot through it. Rolling onto my chest from my side as I had landed, I felt myself covering my cargo as a rolling wave of heat and noise covered me, the stink of gasoline filling the air. I felt my ears instinctively fold against my head at the explosion and resulting conflagration, and blackness enveloped me.

When I came to, I was still in that field, covered in shards of wood, some piercing my hide, others just covering me like a layer of oversized sawdust. Looking around, I did not see my cargo anywhere...did he escape...did he die...did I fail?

The feeling of a squirming mass under my chest answered that question. I, under extreme protest from my body, rolled onto my left side and looked to see that Thomas was still under me, held in place by my body, but also protected.

"Ugh," I groaned. "Are you all right?"

"Get off me you monster," he answered. "Help me! Monster!"

Chuckling to myself silently, I take as deep a breath as I could, wincing at the pain in my sides, and let out a long, loud howl of distress. One of the other lycans would know what that meant.

"Mr. Michaels, I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted to, why would I have done what I just did? Why wouldn't I have just left you with that bomb? Are...You...Okay?" I asked the final question slowly, hoping to break through to him. .

He apparently got the message a little bit and stopped screaming.

"I...I...I think so," he stammered out, clearly shaken by everything.

"Good," I replied. "Stay still, you're still under arrest for a whole slew of charges." At this I firmly gripped his arm with my good hand as he slowly turned his head to face me, his dull grey eyes silently and disbelievingly meeting my amber gaze.

I broke the silence. "Mr. Michaels, I am sorry about your boys. We had a killer amongst us that we couldn't recognize. Your boys paid the price for that failure, and for that I must apologize, if not for my race, then for myself. I wish we could have told you, but the killer is no more. And we are still trying to prevent anymore needless deaths."

He looked at me silently, regarding me with damp eyes as my words were recognized. I was making a guess that this entire episode was a revenge plot, but I needed to play my final hand.

"Thomas, I cannot support what you did. You killed too many people and ruined too many lives, but...I can understand it. Sarah's my daughter...my entire life. If you had killed her...well, we wouldn't be here. My guess is that you felt the same anger at the loss of your boys, and found what you thought truly happened and wanted to avenge it... You weren't the only one."

At this, I saw the tears starting to dribble from his face as he remembered everything and I decided to try to tell him what his boy's deaths meant.

"Thomas, that one incident with your boys completely changed our culture. We teach our pups...our children that incident as soon as they are old enough to understand it, and we focus on the ability to control the urges that live within all of us. It affects some of us more than others...I am where I am today, and many other Lycans are as well, because we want to stop the next incident."

Thomas was crying audibly now, perhaps just at the loss of his boys, perhaps at the loss of himself. There was a monster in this field...and, sadly, I was holding him.

"Your boys did not die in vain...I just wish we could have shown that to you before this all started." Thomas had broken down into a gibbering wreck by this point, sobbing and repeatedly asking himself what he had done, and why him. I couldn't help but be sorry.

Hoping to comfort him I gave him a short lick across the back of his neck, hoping it would comfort him as it would a Lycan, as he buried his head in my chest, sobbing incoherently as I heard footsteps approaching us.

Five minutes later

"It was a trap, Mike. Dalis is nuts."

After the sight of that fireball in the night sky, Amy and I had made record time to the farmhouse. Having run to the Suburban and made it across the town in a manner in which not only is the vehicle not supposed to be operated, but one that, I believe, broke a number of laws of physics, we arrived as the fire was still in full swing. All of the officers and deputies were looking for David and the suspect, and Stark quickly filled us in from the command post that the fire department was rapidly setting up as they started to attack the blaze.

"I know," I replied, gesturing to my arm. "He's also dead. So's Paul. Dalis shot him to get at me. The story's a train wreck. I'll give it to you later. Where's David?"

I heard Sarah sobbing just a little bit away, and realized that couldn't be a good sign.

"We don't know. We're looking. He and the subject got locked inside and we don't know if they got out. It isn't looking good, but it's only been a few minutes."

As Stark finished his sentence, a long, pained howl came from behind the hulk of the farmhouse. Both Amy and Sarah perked up at the sound. Amy spoke first, starting to run out of the command post.

"He's alive but hurt. Follow me."

Grabbing one of the fire-medics at the CP, we all took off at a dead run to the back of the building, through a landscape of fallen, blackened timbers, the smell of gasoline and explosives filling the air, reminding me of that black day in Boston that felt so long ago.

Rounding the corner, we found him, on his side in the grass, in his full Lycan form, fur singed and with plenty of damage from the shrapnel, but still conscious. More surprisingly, we found an old man, sobbing into his chest, arms secured with handcuffs. I looked at David quizzically and he just shook his head.

"Later."

David was as stubborn as I was, refusing to get medical attention, forcing me to reduce his shoulder, something that I hadn't done in half a decade. His shift back to human was rather anticlimactic, the Lycan features receding into his body. He was sore, but the fractures had all repaired themselves, a feature of being able to change your entire physical structure, apparently.

We filled each other in, well, as best we could with Sarah and David being inseparable. As I came to detail my fight with Dalis, however, David and Sarah both got a grave look on their faces and turned to Amy.

"You didn't tell him?" David's voice carried a disturbingly worried undertone that shook my confidence to the core.

"No time," was Amy's reply. "We were too worried about you. We should go...now."

"Go? Where? What?" I stammered. "What's going on?" I finally demanded.

All three were silent until Amy and David ushered me to the rear seat suburban, David taking the wheel with Amy next to me. As we started quickly toward the park, Amy turned to look at me, fear written across her face.

"I told you before that the first Lycans were born from a mutated rabies virus. The virus somehow manages to selectively edit DNA, creating a whole new species. At least, that's as much as I understand. The eggheads know more. There's one problem. We still exhibit a form of that virus in our saliva and blood while in the wolven form. If it is introduced into the bloodstream in sufficient quantities in a non-Lycan, it's fatal. There's one cure that we can give you. But...you need to meet the person who can make it. She'll explain everything."

I was speechless. It was a good gash, with enough skin and muscle taken to be worrisome, but Dalis had only gotten a small grip on my arm when he managed to bite me...to die from something that small...I just didn't know what to think.

As we pulled into the park we pulled into an old cabin within the park, one that I had never seen rented while I was growing up. There were no lights, but Amy and David helped me to the door anyway, rapping at the door quickly and in a pattern. A low voice bade us to enter, and we stepped across the threshold into a cozy cabin, the windows blocked with one-way decals. Apparently this was a hideaway of some form, but for what I couldn't tell.

And then she walked into the room. She was short for a Lycan, maybe five and a half feet, but she was clad in the most brilliant white fur that I had ever seen. The smock that she wore to cover herself was odd, seeing as I had never met a clothed Lycan before. It was a simple cloth smock with a hole for her head and arms, but was covered in simple runic designs. It was actually quite amazing.

"Mary, This is Agent Hart, err Mike. I told you about him before...well, we have a problem. He was bitten." The white wolf shot a sharp glance at Amy and was about to speak when Amy cut her off. "No, not by us. We ended up dealing with a feral. He bit Mike during a struggle."

"Oh, dear. It's him, right?" The white wolf looked a little nervous, so I wondered what had transpired previously.

Removing the dressing, she looked at the wound and sniffed at it. It seemed to have closed up, but the look on her face at that, as well as its scent could only be described as a mixture between crestfallen and joy. She gestured to a sofa where we sat as she looked me over, a sad smile playing across her canid muzzle.

"Michael, how did you let this happen to yourself? You were always so careful."

The gears in my head felt jammed. How did this woman know me? I ran through everyone I knew that knew me growing up, but Amy's mother was the only person I was really knew in this town, and she was dead.

"Who are you?" I asked. "And what can I do to live?"

"Really, Michael? It's only been sixteen years. I may look different but I'm still the same person you knew for all those years. Now Amy," she replied, shifting her questions to Amy, "Have you spoken to the alphas and other elders yet? You know what this means. This has come back to bite us before, you specifically, so we must follow all procedures"

Amy was hesitant but replied in the negative. The white wolf sighed loudly, evidently displeased with that information.

"Well, we'll need to do so. David, can you call a meeting tonight?"

As David walked out the door, I was still trying to figure out what was going on, and was getting tired of being ignored.

"Dammit. Who are you," I angrily asked, pointing at the white wolf, "I never met you in this form before, and I have no clue who you are. Everyone I knew from this town that far back was either assholes or dead. So far, you are neither, although you're getting close to the former. And, yes or no, can you cure me?"

As soon as these words left my mouth, I knew I would probably regret it, What happened next, I hadn't expected.

She slapped me across the face, thankfully without using her claws. I hadn't been struck like that since I was a kid.

"Michael Adam Hart. I thought we taught you better than to use that language. As for the rest, you should know better than to judge someone by their looks. Your father would kill you for that remark."

Wait what? Suddenly blocks started to fall into place. The strike, the time frame, the approximate age, the wolf's name, even the way she spoke...no, no way.

"Amy," I growled. She shrank away from me, confirming a suspicion that I had never before considered.

"Mom?"

A/N - Please read & review. This is my first first person transformation, so I'd like any feedback you can give, either via PM or comment.