Silver Bullets n' Roses - 4. Friend or Foe

Among Matt's first thoughts upon waking up was the line, Someone turn off the fucking lights.

It was as if he had been abducted by aliens, or had woken up on an operating table. A bright overhead light glared straight into his eyes, so even when things stopped being blurry, he could barely see a thing. Judging by the cool metal he was laying on, it wasn't too late to ditch the operating-table theory.

He tried to talk, but no words came out. His tongue felt like sandpaper, so all that came out of his mouth was a barely audible rasp. He licked his lips to try again. "Where am I?"

At first it looked like he was either alone or no one had heard him, but a second later a quiet, female voice said, "He's awake, doctor."

Doctor? Was this a hospital?

"Clarify things for him, Severin," said the same deep voice from the cemetery.

Judging by the distance the voices were coming from, a face appeared in front of the light far too quickly to be natural. It wavered in and out of focus along with Matt's consciousness, but he could make out light hair and pale skin on a young face. Matt repeated his question.

"The Lycansbro Veterinarian Hospital," said the young guy promptly. "Let me dim the lights for you." He lifted a hand holding a tiny remote towards the lights, and the room darkened considerably. Much better.

"The vet's?" Okay, that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but he recognized the name: the Lycansbro Veterinarian Hospital was the best in the county. It was the largest building in town, and given the level of mystery the rest of the town exuded, that was quite an accomplishment.

"That's right." He was fiddling with something on Matt's wrist, and that's when Matt realized he was hooked to an IV.

"What are you pumping into me?"

"More like what I'm taking out of you. You've been on this drip for over a few hours now. It's a solution of wolfsbane; keeps you human through the roughest part of the change."

"Can I move now?" Maybe sitting up would help him process this much better.

The deep-voiced man put a large hand on his shoulder and helped sit him up. Matt slumped over, closing his eyes as he waited for his head to clear. Someone had the grace to put a towel over Matt's "area," so at least he had his dignity, of all things. He clutched the fabric of the towel with shaking hands.

"Why do I feel so lightheaded?" Matt asked, just to break the silence.

"When your very cells are being distorted, feeling lightheaded should be the mildest of how you feel. We've passed the rough stage. Any pain?"

Now that he mentioned it, Matt felt none. Without thinking, he reached up to touch the side of his neck.

"Don't!" snapped the older voice. "It took us forever to stop the bleeding, so don't disturb it."

Matt finally lifted his head to look around the room. He was seeing pretty clearly now; in fact, better than clearly. His vision seemed sharper than it ever had before, and every detail in the room stood out in stark emphasis. It was like looking at the world in hi-def.

The young guy chuckled, making Matt swing his head to look at him and-wow.

He wasn't a guy; he was a teenager no older than sixteen, but his eyes suggested horrific and amazing experiences in his short life. He was tall and slender, but solid, and his face was well-sculpted. Straight, side swept dirty-blonde hair framed that near-perfect face and those grey eyes that were as piercing as strobe lights.

Matt reluctantly tore his gaze from the second angel of the night and moved onto the other people in the room. The big, deep voice he had heard so many times that night fit the person it belonged to. He wasn't exactly huge, but solid and strong, with a hint of a goatee and eyes as so dark they appeared black. Short, black hair crept from his widow's peak. He couldn't have been any older than thirty. Despite his severe appearance, his reassuring smile was anything but.

Lastly, there was a small, mousy woman in another corner of the room. Matt wouldn't have noticed her if he hadn't heard her scribbling furiously on her notepad, a look of stark disapproval on her face. His inner bitch hated her on sight.

"Do you remember anything that happened a few hours ago?" the older guy asked.

"Vaguely," Matt said sarcastically. "Who are you people?"

"I'm Cobaine, that's Severin, and she's Mrs. Creswell," he said, which didn't tell Matt anything, except that Mrs. Creswell wasn't on first-name terms with the rest of them.

"Nice to...meet you," said Matt haltingly, not sure what to say to people surrounding you while you're naked on an operating table. He took in the room. It was where they worked on animals, not people, and he felt mildly insulted. "Why am I here and not a hospital?"

Cobaine had the grace to look uncomfortable. He had been sitting in a chair with wheels and now rose to his feet, displaying his full-and impressive-height. Matt half-expected the room to vibrate as he made his way to face him, but Cobaine was surprisingly graceful. He walked as if he weighed nothing.

He stopped at the foot of table, and Matt jolted when he saw his eyes up close. Brown and black literally swirled in them, in a way that couldn't possibly be human. He cleared his throat and said, "Because a hospital wouldn't know how to take care of you. You're not human anymore."

That's what Gabriel had said. Somehow, when Cobaine said it, it seemed so much more final. Matt lowered his head into his hands, closing his eyes. He was getting a major headache. "Okay, okay...tell me more about...what I am."

"Werewolf, or wereling, in your case. You're not considered a werewolf until your first Change."

"Yeah, that. Why did he go after me?"

"Some humans are more spiritually powerful than others. He probably chose you because your blood called to him, in a sense. That means you'd make a more powerful werewolf."

"Lovely."

"It may seem terrible to you now, but werewolves can live just as normally as humans. If you keep yourself in check, most people wouldn't suspect a thing."

"So this place"-Matt motioned idly at the building-"is full of werewolves. And you're posing a veterinarian hospital so you can tend to your people and stay hidden at the same time."

Cobaine casted a startled glance at Severin, who Matt could feel standing just beyond his shoulder. The swirling eyes turned back to him. "That's exactly what we're doing. Excellent deducting skills, kid."

"My name is Matt," Matt said automatically. "So what's in store for me now?"

Cobaine stared at him as though he were sizing him up. "That's a good question, Matt. You see, we don't have the facilities to house a young wereling. Believe me, the first few weeks will be dramatic."

"Can I just go home?"

"That's not the best idea. You might hurt someone."

"I trust myself more than you," Matt said bluntly. "No offense, but I've known you for about fifteen minutes."

"We can't force you to stay." Cobaine sighed, extending his hands, palms up. Matt winced at tattoo-like paw prints etched into the skin there, and resisted the urge to check his own. "You're free to go. If you need anything, you know where to go. And that's not to Gabriel."

"Believe me when I say I want nothing to do with him."

The raised eyebrow suggested Cobaine knew more than he let on, but he said nothing. Matt didn't bother questioning him.

"I can, however, have someone keep an eye on you," Cobaine said craftily. "Do you mind, Severin?"

A flicker of annoyance flashed briefly in the kid's eyes, but his expression remained carefully neutral. "I'll do it."

Matt shrugged, making his wound twinge. "As long as he's not bothering me, I don't really care." Yeah, that was rude, but he wasn't in the mood to be polite. Holding the sheet tightly around his waist, he slid off the table.

Whoa. As soon as his bare feet touched the cold floor, the room started spinning. A firm hand gripped his elbow. Matt glanced up into Severin's cold, but beautiful eyes and straightened. "Thanks."

Severin nodded and released him.

Matt found his clothes on the floor next to the table, and since they couldn't take a hint and give him some privacy, dressed quickly. It was incredibly embarrassing because the room had gone dead silent, and the rustling of his jeans as he slid them on underneath the sheet was the only sound. By the time he straightened he was blushing.

There was a gaping hole in the shoulder of his shirt, and it was stiff with dried blood. Thankfully, the shirt was black, so it was hard to see. His hair was a mess and his skin was dead white. Anyone seeing him on his way home would think he was a walking corpse, but chances of that were slim.

"What time is it?" he asked the room in general.

"About three thirty in the morning," said Cobaine. "Someone can drive you home."

"No thanks," Matt said quickly. In a car, alone, with any one of these freaks was enough to give him a panic attack. His father left for work at five, and the walk to his house was only a mile or so, thanks to the blessing of living in the smaller community of the city. So he would walk.

Struggling for something to say, he choked out, "Um...thanks?"

Cobaine nodded distractedly, "Anytime. I'm sure we'll be seeing you again very soon." Which didn't make Matt feel any better. "Severin, you know your duties."

With a curt nod, Severin held open the door for Matt, who was happy to oblige. He could feel the eyes of Cobaine and the silent Mrs. Creswell even after the door had been closed.

While he should have been surveying his surroundings as Severin led him out, Matt's mind was still too frazzled to focus on it. All he knew was that he was being led down a few hallways and down some stairs, all a blur of darkness. Severin didn't walk slowly in regards of Matt's injuries; his long legs made Matt have to take two steps for each one of his. They didn't talk at all.

Once outside, Matt filled his lungs with fresh night air. He hadn't even realized how stuffy the hospital was until he was outside of it.

"You should be headed home," Severin said quietly from his place by the door.

"Aren't you supposed to be escorting me?" Matt replied disdainfully. Hell, if the kid felt like a lackey, he would have no trouble building on that. He was just as annoyed at having a babysitter.

Severin didn't take the bait. "Oh, I will," he answered agreeably. Just like that, he faded into the shadows.

A chill went down Matt's spine. Instinct told him Severin was still there, but simply not visible. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. Shaking it off, he jogged out onto the sidewalk.

Matt had been out after dark plenty of times - usually sneaking out - and darkness wasn't even close to being on his list of fears, but there was something different about tonight. His hearing and eyesight was on overdrive: it was like every ordinary sound had been magnified times ten. Even his Converse slapping against the pavement sounded unnaturally loud.

"The hypersensitivity should go away after a day or so," said Severin from somewhere behind him.

Matt looked back at the empty sidewalk behind him. Okay, he was starting to dislike this dude now.

"Don't you have a life?" he asked bluntly.

"My life belongs to my pack and no other," said Severin, his voice sounding flat and unusually rehearsed.

"Do you go to school?"

"Here and there." He didn't elaborate, and Matt felt awkward to ask. They continued the rest of the walk in silence-well, relatively, given the superhuman hearing Matt had acquired.

The tip of the roof of his house appeared over the picket fence. He took a deep breath, praying to God or whoever was up there that no one had noticed he was missing. Without saying goodbye to Severin, he made his way to the tree outside his window and climbed it with even more ease than usual. Even his shoulder didn't give him any trouble.

His room was as untouched as it was when he left only a few hours ago. His mind did a double take at the last few words of that thought; only a few hours ago he was purely human and he didn't know that werewolves existed. He wanted to say it was all just a weird dream resulting from too much drinking, but his stinging shoulder told him otherwise.

Matt wanted to cry but he wasn't sure why. The telltale lump rose in his throat and his chest tightened. Worried that Severin was still watching, he swallowed the feeling and dropped into his welcoming bed. The cool sheet enveloped him and his breathing slowed. Matt welcomed the relief of sleep - a place that his mind could escape to from the stress of the night without interruption.