FIC: MC 22 May ’00 – Wolf-Boy (1/?)

Canada

"Brrr," Faith shivered. "Fuck it is cold."

"It’s called the Frozen North for a reason, Faith," Xander pointed out. "And have I told you how cute you look in your parka?" Xander laughed when the Slayer flipped him the bird before looking around the harsh winter wonderland around them, its savage majesty filling him with awe, reminding him not even Faith’s strength could compete with Mother Nature’s power.

Although Faith would probably argue the fact of course. "Remind me why we are here, anyhow?" Faith shivered again, arms wrapped around her tiny body.

Xander sighed. They’d gone through this a dozen times already. "Because there’s rumoured to be an isolated commune of werewolves that may be able to control themselves while changed. I’m hoping perhaps to persuade them to join the Brotherhood."

"Rumoured, may, perhaps," Faith spat on the snow, "sounds like a real safe bet."

Xander’s smile widened. "At least with your sunny personality we’ll never be cold."

"Fuck you, Harris!"

Xander chuckled as Faith stormed off. "You tease her unmercifully don’t you?"

Xander turned towards Tara. Like both him and Faith, the witch was dressed in jeans, several shirts, sweater, and thick parka. "Makes life fun," Xander smiled.

Tara shook her head and laughed. "I feel like I’m baby-sitting a couple of kids!"

Xander’s grin widened. "She started it."

After another shake of the head, Tara’s face sobered. "And the car?"

Xander grimaced as he looked back at the 4*4. "Even the 4*4 can’t handle the land ahead. It’s rocky, icy, not nice. We’re better off on foot."

Tara shook her head. "Just great."

"Oh Tara," Xander sighed theatrically, "don’t you turn against me too!"

Tara shook her head. "How far is it to this camp?"

"Four hours according to my source."

"Then we better get started," Tara said.

"What I don’t get," Xander groaned as Faith started again. The first two hours of complaints had been entertaining, but after that she’d really begun to grate. "Is why we need to carry rucksacks when you’ve got that damn Always-Pocket?"

"You do remember you have super strength, right?" Xander snapped, his temper fraying. Faith glared at him, he tried for a more conciliatory tone. "Look at it this way, what happens if one of us gets lost, we’ll have supplies, a chance for the others to find them."

"And why would we be that fucking dumb?" Faith demanded.

Xander almost replied to escape the nagging, but decided tact was probably smarter. "I don’t know," he said patiently, "but you don’t survive treks like this by being-." He looked at a whipping sound to his right. He paled at the sight of the blizzard in the distance, hurtling towards them, eating up the distance between them and it at an awesome rate. Turning to his left, he saw a cave entrance. "In there!" he yelled. "Hurry!"

* * *

Tara turned, running towards the cave that Xander had pointed out. "Argggh!" she screamed as her foot wedged itself under an upturned root, tripping her to the ground. Winded and ankle hurt, it took her a brief second to regain her bearings.

That was all it took. Looking up she couldn’t see any sign of her friends, of anything except white. "XANDER! FAITH!" she screamed in desperation.

Not even the echo of her own voice reached her ears over the sound of the whipping wind.

* * *

"Made it!" Faith dropped her rucksack off her back, grateful for the excuse to take the heavy weight off. Her nose wrinkled at the cave’s slightly musty smell but comforted herself that at least they were safe from the blizzard. Fucker had come out of nowhere. "How about you light us up a fire Tar-," Faith’s eyes widened in terror as she searched vainly around the cave for her sister before looking towards X. "Where is she?"

Xander’s face paled. "I don’t know."

* * *

Tara trembled as she curled up into a little ball, futilely hoping that the others would find her. In reality she knew that that was impossible. Once she’d regained her feet, she’d briefly stumbled around, looking frantically for her friends, but she’d been unable to see even a few feet in either direction and her hearing had been even worse.

By the time she’d calmed down enough to think it had been too late, she’d blundered off course, and found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. With the passing of the worse of the blizzard she’d considered casting a locater spell but realising that she’d have no terms of reference, no way to guide herself back to the others, hadn’t bothered. The question was what do next.

Tara trudged hopelessly through across the barren landscape, her body numbing with the cold, her legs aching with having to lift them out of the snow. Her heart leapt when she saw a small cave in front of a copse of trees just a few hundred yards away. Maybe it was the cave that Xander and Faith had hidden in. At worst, it would be somewhere for her to rest a while, maybe get a little warmer before venturing out again.

Tara’s nose wrinkled as she approached the cave, a strong stench of animal waste wafting towards her on the cold wind. "Ooh," she grimaced. Comforting herself that she’d only be staying there a while, she hurried towards the entrance.

"NOOOO!" her eyes widened when a mammoth grizzly roared out of the cave, rearing up onto its legs as it exited the entrance, towering over her. Panicked, Tara backed away, vainly trying to remember a spell to scare the giant beast away. "Ahhh!" she screamed as her legs got tangled up with one another, knocking her to the ground. Tara reached desperately for her gun, heart sinking as she realised it was in the pack she was now led on.

* * *

"You can’t go out there!" Xander stepped in her way, blocking her exit.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" Faith yelled at her boyfriend. "Tara’s out there! Don’t you care?"

Faith regretted the words the moment she’d said them. Even as she opened her mouth to take them back, Xander spoke, his eyes harder and voice lower, seething with a rage he’d never used with her before. "Never ever suggest I don’t care about you or Tara," her boyfriend replied through gritted teeth. "Going out there in that," Xander jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the unceasing blizzard, "would be suicide. We’d have no chance of find her and only get split up ourselves. We can’t do anything until after the blizzard stops!"

"X, I’m so-."

"Save it Faith. The snow should have gone in a while." Xander moved away from the cave entrance. To the spot furthest away from her. Faith sighed before turning to stare impotently at the rapidly-descending snow. It had to stop soon.

* * *

"ARRRRR!"

Tara’s wide open eyes widened still further when a furry shape bounded out of the small copse of trees behind the cave, hitting the monstrous bear in the side, knocking it away from her. "A….a w…," Tara gulped, "a..a werewolf!"

The bear turned to face the new interloper, eyes glinting dangerously. The supernatural monster leapt at the growling grizzly, teeth tearing at its column-thick neck. Tara whimpered when blood showered out of the bear’s neck splattering the snow.

The grizzly roared in pain before cuffing the werewolf across its snout. The werewolf hit the ground on all fours but was immediately back up, leaping up at the bear again, its sweeping paw ripping off the huge animal’s ear in a manoeuvre Mike Tyson would have been proud of.

Again the gigantic bear roared in pain before charging into the werewolf, using its superior weight to barrel the werewolf down to the ground. This time the supernatural creature didn’t bother to leap back at the bear, choosing instead to leap around the back of his opponent and sink his teeth deep into the bear’s hamstring, blood jetting out of the ruined leg.

The bear plummeted to the ground like a felled tree, the impact of its fall shaking the ground like a mini-quake. Before the bear could react the werewolf was on his back, jaws ripping at its neck, viscera pooling out of the ground as the bear thrashed around in its death throes.

A moan escaped from Tara’s mouth when the werewolf’s glittering eyes turned on her. After a victorious howl, the werewolf leapt off the bear and padded over to her, tongue lolling out of its blood-stained mouth. After a second it morphed into a human, shrinking in size to a small, orange-haired man a couple of years older than her. "Who are you?" the man raised an eyebrow. "And why can I smell Xander Harris on you?"

FIC: MC 22 May ’00 – Wolf-Boy (2/?)

Tara blinked then blushed as she realised the shivering figure was naked. "Um, yes," she fixed her eyes to a tree in the distance. "He and Faith saved me from a gang of vamps about a year ago. How do you know them?"

"Went to school with Xander." The orange-haired youth laughed. "Faith warned me not scratch her or hump her leg, so I know them. You lost?" Tara nodded. "Okay, I’m gonna change back to a wolf."

"Do you have to?" Tara said plaintively. She was so alone.

Oz chuckled. "Kinda have to, the cold. You jump on my back and I’ll take you back to them."

Tara beamed. "How?"

"Smell," the werewolf explained before dropping onto all fours, "you might want to explain why exactly you’re in Canada."

"Uh, okay," Tara said hesitantly. Usually she left the sales-pitch for new Mithras members to Xander or Faith.

* * *

"Snow’s stopped falling," Faith headed to the cave opening. "We gotta go look for Tar."

"Faith, wait," Xander bit his lip as his girl-friend turned to him, her eyes gleaming with barely contained impatience. "We’re best heading to the werewolf-."

"Fuck the werewolves!" Faith screamed. "This is Tara!"

"Faith," it was an effort but he managed to keep his tone steady in the face of the brunette’s agitation, "look outside, there’s no trail, nothing." As his girl-friend turned back to the snow, he continued. "We wouldn’t have a chance of finding her. But the werewolves, they can track by their noses."

"How long would it take to get there?" Faith demanded, eyes fixed on the barren landscape.

"Maybe another hour."

"An hour!" Faith let out a pained cry. "That’s two hours before we even get back here, much less before we can actually stop searching, two hours X!"

"I know Faith," Xander gritted his teeth. "I don’t like it any more than you but it’s the best way."

"How about you go get help," Faith pointed outside. "I go look for Tar?"

"Splitting up is not a good idea," he attempted to reason. "What if you get -."

"Oh fuck."

Xander stared at his girl-friend, bemused by her sudden hysterical giggles. "Faith-." His voice trailed off as he registered Tara heading towards them. Sat on the back of a werewolf. "How did -."

"Big sis makes the damnest friends don’t she?"

Xander glanced towards his girl-friend, noting the tears shining in her eyes. "That she does," Xander agreed before taking his Slayer in his arms and kissing her on the forehead, "that she does."

Faith’s replying hug took his breath away. "She’s alright X, she’s alright," Faith whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

A couple of minutes later and the werewolf stopped by the mouth of the cave. Faith released her hold on Xander just before he passed out to hurtle out of the cave and grab Tara as she climbed off the wolf, taking a hold of the witch’s waist and lifting her off the ground. "Damn sis!" exploded the Slayer. "Xander nearly shit himself!"

"And you weren’t worried at all," Xander muttered sarcastically before turning to the werewolf "Who’s your new frie-," his voice trailed off as the werewolf changed back to its very familiar human host. "Oz," he croaked.

"Good to be recognised," his former class-mate shivered. "How about some clothes from that Always Pocket Tara’s told me about?"

* * *

"Uh, sure," Faith reluctantly released her grip on her witch to glance towards her boyfriend passing Oz a pair of jeans, a shirt, and sweater.

Faith leered at the werewolf. "Nice to see your height’s the only thing short about you, Wolf-Boy." Faith snorted as the rock guitarist gaped at her before overbalancing and falling to the ground, putting the jeans X had given him on. Most flustered she’d ever seen Oz.

"I can’t believe you just checked Oz out!" complained Xander.

"I can’t believe she waited so long to do it." Xander glared at a stone-faced Oz.

"Just ‘cause I come home to steak every night, don’t mean I can’t check out the butcher’s," Faith winked at her boyfriend. He was so cute when he was jealous. Her grin widened at Tara’s blush. "So, Tar," she winked at the witch, "Wolf-Boy turned you straight? I mean the way you were riding his back, looked like you were having a wicked time."

"FAITH!"

"What?" she grinned at her best friend. "Just askin’." On impulse she grabbed the witch and hugged her again. "Never be that dumb ever again, you get me!"

"I get you, and so do my ribs."

"Uh, yeah," cheeks crimsoning, Faith released Tara and stepped back.

"Ah, she’s cute when she blushes."

Faith glared at her boy-friend. "Bite me, Harris."

"You usually insist I do that in private," Xander fired back.

Faith’s lips quirked up in a shit-eating grin. "I’m game if you are, Harris." Her grin widened at Xander’s reddening. She won – as usual. Turning to Oz, she smiled. "Thanks for finding Tara for us, I hope she wasn’t any trouble?"

The guitarist half-grinned. "Well no more trouble than the average bear."

"Uh?" Faith and Xander exchanged a confused look.

"Never mind," Oz half-grinned again before turning serious. "Tara said you wanted to meet the others?"

"Um yeah," again Faith exchanged a look with Xander. After a second her honey continued. "You live with them?"

"I’m not that solitary," the werewolf responded. "It’s this way. They might not be friendly," the former Sunnydaler commented.

"You’ve met Faith, right?" Faith glared at her boyfriend’s snort. "No one’s ever accused her of playing well with others."

"You like it when I pl-." The rest of what she’d about to say was muffled by Xander’s gloved hand over her mouth.

* * *

Oz watched as he led his newly-discovered companions through the chilly wilderness. Because of his tendency not to say a lot, he saw more than others – although he’d missed Xander\Willow. Back in Sunnydale Xander had been a goofball, but he’d obviously changed – become more serious, competent. And that was a word he never thought he’d use about Xander – brave, loyal, honest, but competent? Faith had changed even more, outwardly she seemed the same almost out of control fireball he remembered, but in reality she seemed happier, more content, had found herself. Tara had a shyness that reminded him of early Willow before she’d started to become too convinced of her own abilities, perhaps to over-compensate for her parents’ lack of praise. But unfortunately was obviously gay.

"How many?"

Oz started at the question. Turning, he looked at his fellow Sunnydale High Alumni. "Sorry?"

"How many people live in your village?" Xander queried.

"Around one hundred and eighty," he replied.

"All werewolves?" Faith put in.

"Nope, maybe fifty, the rest are family members."

"Tara told you what I’m doing?" Oz nodded. Xander laughed self-consciously. "Pretty far-out uh? Me leading an army of rag-tag demon hunters?"

"You do wicked, X," Faith loyally proclaimed. Oz raised an eyebrow, oh yeah, Faith had found someone to care about.

"Thanks," the founding Scooby smiled at the Slayer before looking back at him. "Do you think your leader would be interested in our group?" Oz shrugged. "I’m not going to get an opinion am I?" Oz shrugged. Xander sighed. "Great."

Eventually they reached the village, a village of log cabins built in a circle with a wooden wall around it. "Oz with strangers!" came the cry from the village watch tower by the gate even as it was leveraged open.

The cabins emptied as they reached the village centre, men, women, and children alike rushing out to see the strangers. "Strangers, Daniel?" growled the group’s leader, a short fat man with greying sideburns and beard, scarred face, and suspicious eyes that hardened as they lighted on Faith. "A Slayer!" the village leader’s head snapped towards him. "You would bring a killer of our people here?"

"Oh wicked," Oz’s attuned hearing picked up the Slayer’s mutter. "See the world he said. Get eaten by a pack of werewolves I say."

FIC: MC 22 May ’00 – Wolf-Boy (3/?)

Visions of dead werewolves and the Sunnydalers lying on the ground, their throats torn from them, flashing before his eyes, Oz quickly stepped between the Sunnydalers and his leader. "Alfred, they’re with me."

"You walking in with them was a clue," Alfred’s eyes didn’t shift from Faith. "Bringing her here! Have you gone mad? None of them have the smell of the wolf on them, they’re intruders!"

"I know them," Oz kept his tone calm despite noting Faith and Xander’s breath had shortened and their heartbeats increased, sure signs of approaching violence. "He went to school with me." Oz raised an eyebrow, until they’d blown it up. "And I helped her Slay."

"Well you more just watched me in action."

Oz ignored Faith’s comment. "They can be trusted-."

"You never said anything about knowing a Slayer!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Not to be exact or anything," Xander interrupted, "but he knew three." Oz shot his fellow Sunnydale High graduate a withering look. "Uh, sorry," Xander raised his hands placatingly. "It’s all yours."

Shaking his head, he turned back to Alfred. "When I came here, you said the past was unimportant only controlling the wolf."

"Unimportant!" Alfred exclaimed. "You knew a Slayer."

"Well not biblically if that’s any help," Faith put in.

Oz counted to ten before continuing. "They’re good people, well Tara and Faith are anyway. And I sort of trust Xander."

"Good to see he doesn’t hold a grudge," Xander muttered under his breath. Alfred stared at Xander. "Uh," his fellow California spoke up, "I love what you’ve done with the village, really," he said with all the sincerity of a Sunnydale Mayor, "but I’ve got a proposal that could help you do a lot with this place, really add some comfort."

"Not interested," Alfred turned away. "Leave now, or die."

"It’ll be night soon," Oz pointed out.

"Fine," Alfred turned back towards them, eyes flinty. "They can stay in one of the spare cabins, but under guard at all times, and she," Alfred pointed at Faith, "doesn’t set a foot outside until she leaves!"

"What did I do?" Faith muttered as the trio were escorted towards the cabin.

Oz knew the answer to that. In seventies New York, Alfred and his girl-friend had both been recently turned and struggling to come to turns with what had happened. One night, they’d changed and been attacked by a black girl, a Slayer, who had scarred Alfred and killed his girl-friend.

All in all, it wasn’t surprising that Alfred hated Slayers. "Just wait until he gets to know Faith, then he’ll really loathe her," Oz muttered before following after his leader. This wasn’t going to be easy. "Alfred! Wait!"

The village leader didn’t even look back, much less pause, in his charge back to his cabin. "We have nothing to talk about, Daniel," the man barked. "You have betrayed us all!"

"Tara was lost and being attacked by a bear when I found her!" Oz retorted, a slow-burning anger beginning to grow inside him. "What was I supposed to do? Leave her?"

"Yes!" Alfred spun around to face him, scar growing livid in his anger. "You were supposed to leave her! She’s an outsider! The village is important! And now," Alfred pointed towards the cabin, "we have a Slayer in our midst."

"Faith’s really," Oz couldn’t lie, "bearable when you get to know her."

"Uhh!" Alfred strode away, his heavy feet leaving footprints in the deep snow. "We’ve got other problems anyhow, a hunting party hasn’t returned!"

"They were here looking for us."

"They were hunting us?" Again Alfred spun around to face him, jaw clenched and scar glowing. "The Council has sent her to kill us?"

"I didn’t say that," Oz raised his hands. "They’re renegade, they want our help."

"Not interested," Alfred turned and walked away, feet stomped through the snow. Oz sighed before following.

* * *

"Damn, I ain’t felt this unwelcome since," Faith’s voice trailed off as she looked around the rustic cabin. "Shit, I can’t think when."

"Maybe when you broke into a nunnery?"

Faith glared at her far from convincingly innocent-looking sister. "Funny, girl, real funny," Faith looked towards Xander, "remind me why you was so worried about her going missing?"

"Oh, no, leave me out of this," Xander walked towards the cabin’s back door only to grimace. "I can hear someone talking, there’s guards there too."

"Damn, that Alfred guy really didn’t like me did he?" Faith commented.

"Just wait until he gets to know you."

This time Faith ignored Tara to stare at her boyfriend. "Seeing Oz is a kick in the pants. Never expected that right?" Xander nodded. Faith moved near to her boyfriend. "He still holds a grudge over Willow?" Xander nodded again. "You’re not," Faith took a deep, scared breath, "you’re not still jonesing for her?"

"What, me?" Xander smiled before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I miss her, but you’re my girl, right?"

"Right." Faith affirmed before pulling Xander’s face down to hers, and started to kiss him, hands cupping his face as he stroked her hair, gently tousling it. After a minute or so, Faith became aware of the sound of retching. Pulling away, she glared at her sis before turning back to Xander with a shake of the head. "She’s a regular pain in the ass, ain’t she?"

Xander chuckled before looking at her. "She used to be so quiet too."

"It’s Faith," Tara put in, "she’s a bad influence."

Faith sighed theatrically. "Why do I get blamed for everything?"

"Because it’s always your fault," her boyfriend and sis chimed in unison.

"Jesus," Faith smiled. "A girl could grow a complex."

"She could if she didn’t have a rhino hide."

"You’re a real smart-," Faith’s reply trailed off when the door to their prison swung open and the group leader walked in with Oz and three gun-toting dudes. "Hey Alfie!" she exclaimed with a swagger. "The accommodation sucks big time."

The village chief spat on the wooden floor and glared at her before turning his baleful gaze on Xan, making her hackles rise protectively. "You, we’ve got some stuff to discuss. Come with me."

Xander started towards the man. Faith grabbed his sleeve and hissed. "You’re not seriously considering going with that crazy bastard?"

"Faith," Xander’s answering smile had a stretched quality to it. "Whispering doesn’t really help, werewolves remember?"

"I could give a fuck if he can hear me or not!" she growled. "You’re plumb loco if you think I’m letting you go with him alone!"

"Faith," Xander shook his head. "We’re his guests it would be rude to refuse." Her boyfriend leaned into her and kissed her neck. "I came here for a reason and I’m not leaving until I’ve talked to him."

"Be careful."

"I will," her boyfriend placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. "And you keep that hair-trigger temper under control, okay?"

"Hair trigger temper?" Faith tried for her best innocent look. "Me?"

"Well, it’s either you or Tara," Xander raised an eyebrow. "I haven’t decided yet."

"Oh it’s Tar," Faith smirked, "she’s got a wicked gutter-mouth too."

"I’ve noticed," Xander said wryly before kissing her on the head. "See you later."

"Later."

* * *

Alfred stared the youth sat across the table from him, seemingly at ease despite the two guards stood behind him. He’d watched the boy on the walk to his cabin. The boy moved well, with none of the awkwardness one expected of a boy his own age. Not as good as a Slayer or a werewolf who’d been turned for several years, the wolf’s abilities becoming more pronounced in the human half with the passing of time, but better than normal. And he had unusual poise too. "I started this commune in 1976," he began. "The world wasn’t safe for such as us. We needed somewhere were we could be alone, learn how to deal with the Change, to control it. Some leave and return to the outside world, but most stay. It’s our home. And I won’t allow such as you to ruin it."

"I have no intention-."

He carried on over the youth’s protests. "Daniel came to us five months ago-."

"It’s good that you take in Sunnydale’s waifs and strays."

Alfred ignored the boy’s attempt at humour. Instead he took a sip of his whiskey, allowing the alcohol to warm him. "And since then has proven to be a valued member of this community. And then you arrive with a fantastic story of being a warrior-god-."

"Uh, possessed by one, not a warrior-god."

"As you say," Alfred stared at the boy, "if not for Daniel’s word, you would already be dead with your Slayer and Witch, buried in unm-."

"You’ll find us harder to kill that you might imagine."

Alfred was briefly rocked by the grim light in the boy’s eyes. Shaking it off, he continued. "I don’t suppose you have any proof of your claims? Of being this Mithras?"

"Yeah," he blinked as the youth pulled a book out of nowhere and passed it over the table.

"How did-."

"What is your favourite book?" the young man interrupted. "Open the book and say it."

"Uncle Tom’s Cabin," Alfred’s eyes widened when the text appeared on the pages. "How-."

He was interrupted by an ancient looking spy glass landing on his lap, thrown there by the boy. "Look through it and say the name of a person or location you want to see, anywhere in the world. But it’s got to be a place or person you know."

After a second he obeyed. "Mills’ Ice Cream Parlour, Brooklyn." He gasped when the place he’d spent many an afternoon in his teens appeared before his eyes. "How?"

"They came with my powers and responsibilities."

"Cheap tricks," he commented as he pushed the artefacts back over the table, unwilling to admit how shaken he was. "And why were you searching for us?"

"Yeah," the youth swallowed before plunging into a story about how he was building an army to face Armageddon, and how he wanted Alfred’s people’s help, and the resources he could offer.

"Not interested," Alfred said. "The affairs of normals don’t concern us, only the people living in this village."

Despite the note of finality in his voice, the youth pressed him. "How about the affairs of your people? Whatever’s coming will enslave those unlucky enough not to be killed, turn this world into a hell."

The certainty in the Slayer’s boyfriend’s voice compelled him to force back a shudder. "Then tell me what is coming," Alfred challenged as he leaned over the table, eyes boring into the young man.

The boy stared at him, eyes frustrated. "I don’t know!"

"Then," he rose, "this conversation is over. Tomorrow Daniel will escort you back to your car. Come back again and you will die."

FIC: MC 22 May ’00 – Wolf-Boy (4/?)

Alfred’s eyes opened as he heard the sound of raised voices outside his cabin. Throwing his woollen blankets aside, he rolled up into a sitting position and began to dress, cursing under his breath as he did so. What had their unwelcome guests done now?

He’d barely pulled his jeans on when his cabin door walked in and a strapping man in his early thirties entered, bushy eyebrows bristling and square jaw tensed. "We’ve found Frank and the others have been found."

Alfred squinted at Carl as he dragged his jacket on. Judging from the way his second-in-command spoke this wasn’t a cause for a celebration. "And?" he pressed.

"They’re dead."

"Slayer," Alfred growled, nostrils flaring. Forcing himself to calm, he looked to Carl. "Get the others, we’re going to kill them now."

"How many?" Carl queried.

"As many as it takes."

* * *

Faith’s eyes flew open, the warrior in her instinctively warning her something bad was about to happen. She clamped her hand around X’s mouth and shook his shoulder. The moment her boyfriend’s eyes opened, she spoke in a whisper. "Trouble-."

At that moment, the door crashed open, and a number of burly men charged in. Grateful that for once she’d slept in clothes, in part because of the cold but mostly because of their hostile surroundings, Faith leapt up, and side-heel kicked the nearest man full in the chest. The man grunted, face paling, as he left his feet and flew into two of the other men, knocking them to the ground. A second sidestepped the human projectile and tried with a haymaker at her head. She caught the blow in her palm before violently yanking and twisting, breaking his wrist and dislocating his shoulder in a single savage motion before kicking her attacker in the balls, sinking the man to his knees with a croak. Another made the dumbass mistake of stepping towards sis, but a muttered word from the witch sent him flying into the air, smashing into the ceiling before plummeting to the ground.

"Silver bullets, gentlemen." Xander spoke, voice hard and cold. "You take one step towards either of my friends and you die." Faith glanced towards her honey. He’d sat up in bed, a Desert Eagle in each hand, pointed at their attackers. "Now," he continued. "I was having a real nice dream, me, Faith, and Neve Campbell-."

"I’ll get you for that later, boy-toy," Faith promised in a mutter

"And you had to disturb it," Xander continued. "So I am not a happy Xander. What is going on here?"

"Yeah," a voice came from the back of the group of men. "I’d be sorta of interested too."

* * *

Oz shivered as he hurried to the wood shack, a half-smile playing on his lips. A lifetime spent in sunny California had left him too thin-skinned to deal with Canada’s extreme colds. But it was the place-.

"Oz! Oz!"

Oz looked over his shoulder to see himself being called by Chucky, an eight year old boy who’s parents were both werewolves, but wasn’t himself. Ever since his arrival the boy had latched onto him like an older brother. The worship was a pain at times, but Chucky was a good kid, and not annoyingly chatty like most. "Hey, Chuckster."

"Your friends!" the boy jumped up and down on the spot, "Mr. Soames is angry with them! He went over to their place!"

"Damn!" Oz started off at a run, charging towards the cabin. Already he could hear the sounds of violence erupting. He had to get there before something irreversible happened. If Xander or Faith killed someone, no matter how skilled they were they weren’t getting out of the village alive.

Reaching the entrance he was relieved to see everything was at a stand-off. Taking a breath, he spoke up from his position by the door. "I’d be sorta of interested too."

"Oz," Xander said. "Always a pleasure. Mind calling your friends off before I have to take them to obedience school?"

Oz groaned inwardly at the glares that followed the former Sunnydaler’s comments. That was Xander alright, words just spewing out without a thought to diplomacy. Ignoring his fellow teen, he turned to Alfred. "What’s happening?"

The head werewolf’s eyes didn’t shift from Xander’s. "We found Frank and his party, dead."

Oz’s heart dropped. "Where?"

It was a long minute before the village leader responded. "Carl?"

After a moment Alfred’s second-in-command replied. "Near Eagle’s Peak."

"You should have checked with me." Oz let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

"I’m the leader, Daniel, not you," Alfred snapped.

"I know," Oz agreed, "but I could have told you I found them nearly three hours away from Eagle’s Peak."

"A Slayer could make that run and get back to where you found her, easy," Alfred growled.

"Maybe," Oz agreed. "But Xander and Tara couldn’t."

After a second, Carl made the unspoken connection. "And even a Slayer wouldn’t have been able to find her way back, not unless she knew the territory and the landmarks."

Give the man a cigar. Oz waited for a second for Alfred to brusquely nod and turn to the door. "Let’s get up there and see what happened."

"What, no sorry?" Oz groaned at Faith’s sarcastic drawl. Couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut, for once? "No sorry for waking us in the middle of the night? Or, and I nearly forgot, trying to kill us?"

Alfred glared at the Slayer. "Slayers have murdered our kind for centuries."

"Hey! I ain’t never killed a werewolf!" Faith smiled with unconvincing sweetness at the group’s leader. "But if I was fixing to start, you’d be top of my list."

Sensing trouble about to erupt, Oz pushed his way through the other werewolves and stepped between the two warring parties before anything could start. "Look, this isn’t important. What is is finding out what happened to the others."

"Yeah, it is," Xander agreed. "So let’s head up there and see what’s happened."

"Fuck ‘em, we should get our stuff and leave."

"For once, me and the Slayer agree," Alfred commented. "We don’t need your help."

"Really?" Xander queried. "What do you know about the Aldawolf Cult? Or the Lupin Creed? Or the Lycos Ecclesia? And that’s just three groups I can think of off the top of my head who hunt werewolves. I can tell which group they are, what resources they have at their disposal, why they did this, how many of them there are?"

Alfred stared at Xander for a long second before nodding shortly. "You and her can come, but she," the man pointed at Tara, "stays here in case it’s a trap."

Faith’s eyes flared. "No fucking way!" the beautiful brunette’s lips parted in a snarl. "I am not leaving my sis alone with you! And why do you give a shit," Faith prodded Xander in his chest, "about these motherfuckers?"

"Because they need our help," Xander said.

"It’s alright, Faith," whispered Tara. "We should help them."

"Mule-headed the both of you," Faith shook her head before turning to Alfred, eyes as hard as obsidian. "One hair on her head is hurt and I’ll tear this village down around you."

"Oh," Xander’s smile had Oz re-assessing just which of the two was more dangerous. "You’d have to get in line."

"Guys," Tara hugged the two Sunnydale transplants. "I’ll be okay, just go."

* * *

"How many men are you taking?"

Alfred looked up from his packing at Oz’s query. For a second he stared at the youth, still angry at him for bringing a Slayer into his sanctuary. Finally he swallowed the bile in his throat and spoke in a grunt. "I figure on ten."

"Count me in," Oz said.

"I don’t need the extra help, ten of us can manage your friends."

"I’m not worried about them." Oz replied, his stoic face firmly in place. "I want to know what’s going on."

"Fine," Alfred nodded. He was in no mood to talk to the Californian. "Then get your stuff. We’re heading out in ten."

FIC: MC 22 May ’00 – Wolf-Boy (5/?)

"Why did you leave Sunnydale?"

Oz kept his eyes fixed on the steep hill they were walking up. "Me and Willow weren’t working."

"Yeah," Oz noticed Xander’s voice had a note of embarrassment in it. "Sorry about that."

"Wasn’t all you."

"Yeah, but still," Xander paused. "You planning on going back?"

"No."

"Well if you do, do me a favour," Xander took a breath, "don’t mention what I’m doing."

Oz stopped and glanced at his fellow Sunnydaler, for once surprised. "They don’t know what you’re doing?"

Xander shrugged. "Giles maybe, but that’s not ‘cause I told him."

"Don’t you want Willow and Buffy to know?"

"It’s dangerous, for them, for me."

Oz stared at Xander. Danger, to Willow? "Why?"

Something in his eyes must have alerted Xander to his emotions, because the young man raised his palms defensively. "Hey, they’re not in any danger as long as they don’t know about me. But if they think they know…"

"They?"

"Take your pick. I’ve done some research," the youth grimaced. "And a ton of organisations will be after me, either because of old grudges against Mithras, because they’re scared I might oppose them, or they want my resources."

Oz raised an eyebrow. This was getting more and more fantastic. "Like who?" he pressed.

"The Council, the Vatican, already had a run in with them, Wolfram & Hart, Giollas Na Drohuil, the Atrox Religio, the Dunkel Wermacht, and half the world’s governments."

"I won’t say anything." Oz half-smiled at Xander’s grateful nod. "But I find it hard to believe."

"What? That all those organisations could be after me?"

"Well, that, but mostly you doing research without Giles around."

"Funny guy." Xander groused.

"I try," Oz retorted. "Who were all those organisations you mentioned anyway?"

"Wolfram & Hart are an evil law firm." Oz raised an eyebrow. Xander chuckled. "I know, obvious. But they are also a pan-dimensional organisation representing demonic interests, they’re run by a cabal known as the Circle of the Black Thorn, Mithras had a few run-ins with them when he was around, kicked their ass but never ended them. Giollas Na Drohuil is Gaelic for Followers Of The Evil Eye, a cult intent on world domination with similar thoughts to the Nazis, except they intend to use witchcraft rather than armies to achieve their aims. The Axtro Religio is Latin for ‘Cruel Religion’, they believe that only in the killing of non-believers can they ascend to a higher plane. The Dunkel Wermhact is German for ‘Dark Army’. In Mithras’ time they were one of the world’s great powers, rising up after the fall of the Old Ones They worshipped the Old Ones and schemed to bring them back until Mithras almost beat them and nearly wiped them out.".

"Nice friends you made."

"Thanks," Xander shot him a look.

"Tell me, Mithras almost wiped out this Circle and this Dark Army, did he ever actually finish the job?"

"Katrine Algia, a cult of sadists who tortured their victims to death and used their life energy to fuel dark magics. Kol Hitra, a cabal of dark mages who raised an army and attempted to open a gateway to hell. Devils’ Deceivers, who attempted to replace the world’s rulers with magically-created clones. The Kyerot Hordes who tried to defeat us through sheer weight of numbers. The Witch-Amazons of Paelo Regnum who sent assassins to kill Mithras and the other rulers in an attempt to destabilise the world. Oh, and the Old Ones, who actually ruled us before him. Why ask?"

Oz blinked, unable to imagine how scary it must be to have all those memories dancing around in one’s head. It was just lucky that Xander’s had otherwise been so empty, otherwise things could get really crowded. "Just making sure we had the right guy in charge of saving the world."

"God, I so didn’t miss your humour," Xander paled. "What do you think they’re talking about?"

Oz followed Xander’s pointed finger to where Alfred and Faith were stood talking. Or more accurately arguing. "Whatever it is, can’t be good."

"Gee, you think?"

* * *

By now Alfred was heartily sick of his companion. Yes, she was exceedingly beautiful, but she was also a hunter of his kind, a murderer. He’d never forgive Daniel for this. Suddenly the Slayer spun to face him, a furious look on her face. "I am sick of your fucking eyes boring a hole in my head!" the brunette exclaimed. "Jesus Christ! I’m used to guys having a hard on for me, but you are in a whole different fucking league!"

"My problem is you!" Conscious of the wolf inside him, Alfred kept a hold of his temper. But only just. "In 1976, my girl and I had just been turned, we were just kids, struggling to come to terms with what had happened to us! And then," he prodded the icy air between the two of them, "a Slayer turned up and scarred me," he stroked the ravaged side of his face, "and killed my Mel!"

He was surprised when the Slayer didn’t back off at his revelation. Instead she moved closer, sticking her face into his. "One time, when I was fourteen, this Oriental decided he liked what I had and wanted a piece. I wasn’t interested," the girl lifted her jumper to reveal a hideous scar on the right side of her otherwise flawless stomach. "But he had his ways of persuading me. If my buds hadn’t turned up and put his ass in the hospital, fuck knows what would have happened to me!" The Brunette took a breath. "But do I hate all Orientals? Do I fuck, I never finished school or even started it, but I’m smarter than that!"

"I don’t trust you. Your type hunt my -."

"FYI! I have never killed a werewolf! And you are so not gonna make me feel guilty for some shit a chick I didn’t know pulled before I was even born! So fuck you!"

Alfred snarled as the Slayer stormed away, long hair swinging. Oh yeah, he was never going to forgive Oz.

* * *

"That guy is a fucking-," Faith struggled for the word she wanted as they marched through the wintry wasteland.

"Bigot?" Xander helpfully supplied.

"I was going with asshole!" Faith fumed.

Xander sighed before producing the Eternal Archive. "This I’ll help you," her boyfriend pressed the book into her hands. Faith looked at him in confusion. Xander winked. "You really need to try this book, it’s called ‘How To Win Friends And Influence People’."

"Funny bastard," Faith’s mouth pulled up in a half-smile before sobering. "Why are we here anyhow?" she groused. "I mean this fucker doesn’t want us," she shot a scornful look up at Alfred up ahead. "We might as well get big sis and blow."

"Because other people, not Alfred, might die. Because some major demon happening might be going down." Xander sighed, his exhalation turning to ice almost the instant it left his mouth. "Because it’s the right thing to do."

Faith scowled. "I hate it when you’re right."

Xander gently nudged her with his elbow. "Get used to it, never wrong."

Faith snorted. "I remember a few things you needed my advice on." Faith laughed when Xander reddened. "I meant swords to buy," she lied, an innocent look on her face, "what did you think I meant?"

Xander was saved from answering by a shout from Oz up ahead. "Found them!"

Faith exchanged a look with Xander before the both of them hurried up the hill. Reaching the bodies, Xander shoved through the crowd surrounding the bodies to kneel beside the corpses. Faith wrinkled her nose because of the cold, the smell wasn’t as bad as normal, but animals had been gnawing at them leaving the corpses in a less than pretty condition. "Damn," Xander crouched over each of the bodies in turn. "They were both werewolves, right?"

"Yeah," replied an ashen-faced Alfred.

"How far is it back to the camp?" Even as he asked the question, Xander rose, eyes looking down the path they’d come. "This was a lure to get you away from the camp. We have to get back there fast!"

FIC: MC 22 May 00 – Wolf-Boy (6/?)

"H..hi," Tar sighed as another person blanked her. Before leaving with Xander and the others Faith had demanded that she be allowed free reign of the village, reasoning that she wouldn’t leave without them, but it made little difference to her feeling of isolation. A gentle soul, she hated the hostility and distrust that permeated through this village towards her and her friends. It wasn’t as if they’d done a thing to earn it. The people who lived here had come here seeking sanctuary, but had instead built themselves a prison, its walls their suspicion and paranoia.

"Miss! Miss! Miss!" Hearing a high-pitched squeal behind her, she turned to see a small boy running after her, blond hair swinging wildly as he raced towards her, arms going like windmills, and face red from exertion. The boy skidded to a halt beside her, snow flying, and offered her his hand. "Pleased to meet you, I’m Chucky."

Hiding a delighted smile at the small boy’s formality, Tara took his slightly sweaty hand. "Hi, I’m Tara."

"You’re a friend of Oz’s aren’t you?" Tara nodded. The boy beamed. "I knew it!" the boy jumped up and down. "I’m Chucky." The boy lowered his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "But Oz calls me Chuckster. You can call me that if you want."

Tara nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Chuckster."

"I saw you with that scary man and really pretty girl, but you’re prettier!" the boy exclaimed.

Tara giggled before scooping the boy up in her arms. "Well aren’t you," she kissed the child on his forehead, stroking his unruly hair, "the sweetest little boy in the whole world."

"Will you my girl-friend?" the boy shyly asked.

Tara’s smile widened. "Buy me flowers and chocolate first." She laughed at the boy’s confused look before nodding. "I’d love to be your girl-friend, Chucky."

"Thanks!" the child beamed before throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her. "Do you wanna come to my house? Momma’s making her soup, it’s the bestest in the world!"

Tara’s face fell. She really didn’t want to face another rejection, or upset this sweet child. "Uh, I don’t know Chucky. I don’t really know your Momma."

"She won’t mind," the boy peered pleadingly into her eyes. "Come on, it’ll be fun."

It was so cold outside, and Chucky was the first person who’d even spoken to her since the others had left. Tara sighed. "How can I say no to those eyes?" the child cheered. "Which way?"

* * *

"What’s going on here!" Alfred demanded in a growl.

Faith opened her mouth to ask much the same question, only to close it at Xander’s shake of the head. "No time," her boyfriend replied. Faith nodded, her hon’s short tone all that she needed to know this was an all hands to the pump situation.

Unfortunately, Alfred didn’t know X like she did. "No-body’s going anywhere until I know what’s going on!" the leader blustered. Faith shook her head. Damn fool obviously poured testosterone ‘stead of milk on his cornflakes.

"Leif Of Fenrir," Xander snapped as he continued back towards the village.

"Who are the Leif of Fenrir?" Alfred demanded, his hand reaching for Xander.

The moment the head werewolf’s hand touched Xander’s shoulder, Faith’s boyfriend moved at a blur. His elbow snapped backwards, the point smashing into Alfred’s jaw, knocking the werewolf to the ground. Before any one had chance to move, Xander had spun around and placed a foot on the man’s throat. "A single growl," Faith’s blood chilled at Xander’s blandly conversational tone, "a single hair appears on any of you that isn’t here now and I will end him. I’ve been patient so far, but I don’t have the time to pander to your ego. I’ll make this short, no interruptions, and no questions, I’m not in the mood."

"I’d say."

Faith clamped her mouth shut at Xander’s tight-lipped glare. "The Leif Of Fenrir are a cult of werewolf worshippers, dedicated to bringing the perfect werewolf, Fenrir, back into our reality. Only trouble is, he stands twelve feet tall, weighs over a ton and hates anything with human blood in it, werewolf or not. They only need to sacrifice 13 werewolf hearts taken in the previous day in the prescribed manner to pull him back into this dimension. They’ve got two, and they’ve pulled us away from the village to get another eleven." Xander looked down at Alfred. "Now are you going to lead the way back or would it be quicker for me to just shoot you?"

"I’ll lead the way," the man squeaked. Xander nodded and pulled his foot off the man before dragging the werewolf to his feet.

"See," Faith commented as Xander fell in beside her, "how easier things would have been if we’d done that from the start?"

"Shut up, Faith."

"Just sayin’."

* * *

"Hi Mom!" Tara had to smile at the boy’s cheerful shout as he dragged her into his home, the warm house a welcome contrast to the freezing outdoors. "I brought my girl-friend home for dinner!"

"Uh, huh," a small smile played on the face of the small, sparklingly-eyed woman stood stirring a pan at the stove, the delicious aroma wafting from it making Tara’s nose quiver and stomach growl. "A different girl-friend this week? Again? It’s that Daniel Osburne’s influence, turning you into a sweet-talker!"

"MOM!" Chucky turned bright red. The boy spun around to face her, a comically earnest look on his face as he shook his head with a vehemence that had Tara half-wondering if it would spin off his neck. "Mom’s just teasing, Tara!" the boy cried out. "I ain’t never had a girl around, well," the boy’s blushed deepened, "except for Alita Alegria, but that’s only ‘cause mom has to baby-sit and she’s only six anyhow, and -."

"I believe you, sweetheart," Tara cut off the boy’s panicked babble with a finger to the mouth. "You’re too much of a gentleman to be stringing two girls on at once aren’t you?"

Chucky beamed and nodded. "Moms sometimes make jokes don’t they Tara?"

Tara forced a smile. Hers hadn’t, her mother had been a whisperer, afraid that her giggles would wake her father from one of his booze-fuelled sleeps and see her ‘repeatedly fall on his feet and fists’. "Yes," she replied. "Yes they do."

"So you’re one of the newcomers," she looked up to see Chucky’s mother staring at her, "we don’t get many strangers here."

It was on the tip of her tongue to comment that maybe they would with a better welcoming committee. Reminding herself that Faith was the sarcastic one, she settled for a bland reply. "The settlement’s awfully isolated."

The older woman smiled wryly, clearly not fooled by her diplomatic answer. "It is that," Chucky’s mother offered her a hand, "I’m Rita Douglas. And I’m guessing from process of elimination you must be Tara?"

"That’s right," she shook the offered hand, a smile slowly spreading across her face, put at ease by the other woman’s friendliness. "I hope I’m not in the way."

"Hush!" Mrs. Douglas shook her head. "Of course not. I’m only sorry that this rascal," Mrs. Douglas shot Chucky a fond look, "got in your way."

"I didn’t Mom," the boy boisterously protested, his arms wrapped around Tara’s waist, "we’re friends like me and Oz.. ‘Cept, we hold hands and hug and stuff. I never do that with Oz."

Tara reddened at the other woman’s laugh. "In that case why don’t you take your girl-friend and get her a seat. We know how to treat guests here don’t we?"

"Sure mom."

"I could help-."

"Nonsense dear," Rita interrupted with a shake of the head. "You’re a guest. And guests don’t help in my house. Sit down."

Compelled by the woman’s resolved tone and the little boy tugging on her hand, Tara allowed herself to be guided to a chair. The moment she’d sat down, the boy leapt on her knee and began bombarding her with stories.

"Chucky," she looked up to feel a draught behind her and see a tall, strong-looking man entering through the door behind her. "If we’ve got guests, we don’t sit on their knees at the table at dinner time."

The boy pouted. "But, dadd-."

"Now, Chucky."

"Yes, sir." The speed at which Chucky moved got Tara’s hackles rising, only to relax when she registered the beam on the boy’s face, the pride shining in the father’s eyes, and his aura. This was a loving family, not every family was like her. "This isn’t a guest, daddy, this is my girl-friend."

The weather-beaten man’s eyes twinkled. "Your girl-friend, uh?" the man chuckled. "I didn’t start dating until much later. I was at least ten."

"Ach, Nick," Rita laughed. "And you said you saved yourself for me."

With a laugh the man kissed his wife on the back of her neck before sitting. "Smells grand lass, did our guest," the man winked at her, "do the cooking for you?"

"Ah," the woman growled. "Any more of that, and your share goes out of the window."

"Mercy, mercy," Nick raised his hands. "I’ll be good."

Once the table was served, they began to eat. The sound of them eating filled the air, only interrupted by questions about the Brotherhood. Tara was careful to downplay their influence and keep the stories PG rated for Chucky’s sake. In the middle of a highly-edited story of how Faith and Xander had rescued her from her family, Tara stopped. "What’s to do lass?" Nick queried.

"I don’t-," she paled as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, "every one on the floor, now!"

FIC: MC 22 May 00 – Wolf-Boy (7/9)

"So these Leaves of fern-."

"Leif Of Fenrir," Xander corrected.

"Whatever," Faith shook her head while keeping one eye on Xan’s stern face. "Point is, what’s the lowdown on them? Are these guys werewolves, demons, or something else?"

"Black arts mages who worship Fenrir," X supplied.

"Right," Faith nodded. "And this wolf-god, is he the real deal?"

"See these redwoods?"

Faith looked up at the towering trees surrounding them as they trekked back to the village. "Kinda hard to miss," she laconically commented.

"Fenrir could uproot one with a swing of his paw." Faith blinked, that was definitely not of the good. "He could rip off a person’s head in his jaws without missing a beat. He coul-."

"K," Faith hurriedly interrupted, "he’s a bad hombre, getting the picture in Technicolor. "But he’s in some hell dimension prison right? So long as we stop this ceremony we’re five by five?"

"Yeah," Xander agreed.

"What is the ceremony anyhow?"

"Thirteen werewolf hearts torn from their owners’ bodies in the past day placed in a circle and all simultaneously pierced by silver tipped daggers while the high priest of the cult chants the summonsing ritual."

"Right," Faith shuddered at the visceral imagery. Why did none of these rituals involve pink teddy bears? Not that she was into shit like that but it would have made a pleasant change of pace. "And how did this bad-ass get trapped in the first place?"

Xander shivered; Faith somehow suspected it wasn’t from the cold. "Okuni-Nushi-."

"Say what?" Faith interrupted.

"He was a friend of Mithras in the old days," Xander explained. "But now he’s remembered as the Japanese Shinto god of magic." Faith shook her head, still struggling to come to terms with her honey’s possession. "He cast a spell while Mithras and the others fought Fenrir to suck him into an inter-dimensional prison. As Fenrir was sucked into the portal, the demon," Xander shook his head, face paling, "the demon bit and tore off Tyr’s arm. He died in Mithras’ arms."

"I’m sorry X," Faith winced at the pain in her boyfriend’s eyes. He wasn’t Mithras, but what hurt the god, hurt her guy too, and there was nothing she could do but be there for him. "And this Fernrir, he was the first werewolf right?"

"Yeah," Xander chuckled. "But not in the way you mean." Confused, Faith stared at Xander. "The Lief Of Fenrir started up very soon after his banishment. From the start, their intention was to bring him back into this dimension. One of their first tries was to bring him back in the body of a ‘volunteer’. They did this incantation to call the wolf-spirit into the man-."

"And instead created the first werewolf."

Faith started at Oz’s voice, having not heard the guitarist approach, but Xander just nodded. "Yeah. It tore loose," Xander chuckled, "and ripped right through the Cult, killing over half of them, and even turning a few."

"No wonder they hate us," Oz commented.

"Yeah," Xander nodded, "but if they met Alfie they’d soon change their mind."

"Yeah," Faith drawled with a grin. "After all, to know him is to love him."

* * *

Chucky’s parents just stared at her. Shaking her head, Tara pushed the table over, grabbed Chucky and dived to the floor. Even as she hit the ground, the fall driving the wind from her body, and Chucky’s screams ringing in her ears, the windows shattered, hot lead flying through them en route to ripping through the child’s parents, their corpses dancing like manic puppets before falling to the cold ground, blood pooling out of them.

"NO!" Tara’s eyes widened in horror as the hysterically-screaming Chucky wriggled out of her arms, leapt to his feet and charged towards his parents, heedless of the bullets zipping about.

Bullets that smashed into him. Tara saw the first hit his shoulder, almost tear the attached limb off and spin him around to look at her, a shocked look on his face. A face that disappeared a second later, when a second bullet smashed into his chest, lifting him off his feet, and into the path of a third, the bullet entering his face at the jaw, a half-second before a forth smashed into his skull, brains exploding out of the back of his skull and splattering the floor.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"Oh no," Oz turned to them. "I’m going to have to go, keep on this path, and you’ll get to the camp in maybe half an hour."

"Wait, what’s the 411?" Faith grabbed the werewolf’s shoulder, noting the strain in the rock guitarist’s eyes.

"Smoke, smoke’s coming from the village. Me and the others -."

"No," Xander shook his head before shooting a worried look and pulling a shotgun out of the Always Pocket and throwing it to her. "You might be running straight into an ambush. Get everyone killed."

"Our people-."

Xander shot Alfred a look. "Running in there weaponless, against a superiorly armed force is only going to get you all killed. If you can smell smoke-,"

"But Tara-."

Xander continued over her as if she hadn’t spoken. "You’re probably already too late. Best thing is to get there as soon as possible and give what medical attention we can. Now let’s move."

* * *

"Oh no," Xander felt the bile rising in his stomach as they reached the rise overlooking the village. Beneath was a scene of destruction that would have the most battle-hardened warrior hurling. The wall surrounding the village had been torn down at three different points to divide any defenders attempting to protect the homestead. Inside the perimeter several fires were burning, homes destroyed, and corpses spread everywhere, the stench of smoke mixing with death in the air. Sensing Faith about to bolt beside him, he grabbed her shoulder. "Slowly," he counselled. "She wouldn’t want us to walk into a trap for her."

"K," Faith nodded tightly.

They joined the weres in creeping into the village. "TAR!"

Xander’s head snapped towards Faith. "How is that impression of a fog-horn stealthy?"

Faith ignored him to shout again. "TAR!"

Xander sighed as his girl-friend rushed off. He was more than a little tempted to shoot her in the leg. "It would be for her own good," he muttered before shaking his head and following the teen beauty. "It’s no good. I’d only end up shooting myself to stop the bitching."

Faith moved from house to house, kicking open each door and shouting carelessly to the others of their hunting party if she found any survivors. Faith’s face blanched as she kicked open the sixth door, blood draining away. "Tar!" the shout came out as a croak as his girl-friend rushed inside.

Stomach hollowing at what his girl-friend had found, Xander hurried after her. He let out a relieved sigh tinged with more than a little horror when he rushed in to find Tara lying on a blood-slicked kitchen floor, two corpses crumpled against the back wall. The witch appeared unharmed but cradling what at first glance appeared to be a tiny doll but was in fact a small, dead, child, his brains swimming in the floor’s viscera. "They killed him. They killed him. I meant to protect him but they killed him. They killed him."

Faith shot him an anguished look before dropping to her knees and taking Tara in her arms, easing her away from the headless corpse. "Come on Tar," the Slayer whispered, her voice soft. "It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re here now." Faith looked towards him, eyes as hard as stone. "We’ll take care of everything."

Xander nodded, a cold anger burning inside. Oh he could guarantee that.

FIC: MC 22 May 00 – Wolf-Boy (8/9)

Satisfied that Faith would take care of Tara, Xander spun on his heels and headed towards the village hall, the blood pounding in his head, and his anger burning hot enough to block the cold winds whipping around him. As he reached the hall’s entrance, Oz stepped out from the building’s shadows. "Maybe you shouldn’t-."

"Not interested," Xander flatly replied before stepping around his fellow Sunnydale High graduate, and towards the hall.

Shoving the door open, he strode inside. A wave of what at another time would have been welcome heat washed over him. Ignoring that, Xander looked left and right. In the centre of the hall, there stood Alfred and the majority of the remaining healthy adults in a circle, loudly talking. To the right, Xander’s stomach hollowed, there stood a makeshift hospital where the injured and dying were being cared for, the wounded screams tearing into him.

Quelling the urge to vomit, Xander stepped towards the group. Sensing the locals were more than likely to be hostile, Xander put on a firm voice. "I need a map of the local ar-."

"You!" Alfred spun to face him, eyes glinting dangerously. "This is all your fault!"

"And how," it was an effort but Xander kept his temper under control, "do you figure that?"

"You brought these people to us!" Alfred accused.

Xander shook his head. "No, they were already here. They’ve been planning this for weeks, months maybe. Killing your friends and leaving their bodies out there was a diversion. They’ve got a camp between here and Eagles’ Peak. As soon we passed by to retrieve the bodies, they came down here to attack. If you just show me a map I can find where they’re hiding."

The village leader stared at him for a second before turning away. "This isn’t your concern," the man grunted.

"No concern of mine!" Xander exploded. Grabbing the older man’s shoulder, he spun him around to face him. "Don’t tell me this isn’t any concern of mine. If Fenrir gets loose, every man, woman, and child in this village will make a nice little starter. And I just found a girl I love like a sister holding a child’s decapitated corpse in her arms. I had to leave Faith comforting her. So don’t tell me this is no concern of mine!"

Alfred’s mouth curled up in a sneer. "The Slayer-."

The disdain in Alfred’s voice did it for Xander. His knee flew up to connect with the man’s groin and his fist uppercut into the man’s nose, shattering bone and cartilage alike. Even as the man slumped to the floor, Xander drew his pistols and looked around the room, challenging the others to attack. "If you let this idiot lead you, every one of you will end up dead," he promised.

"What makes you suitable?" challenged a wary-looking Carl.

Xander stared at the village second in command. "Well for one, I know if you go in in your lupine forms you’ll be slaughtered. After the first attack on them by a werewolf, the Leif Of Fenrir developed black magics that could destroy a werewolf in lycan form on sight. So," he smiled at the others’ shock, "I’m guessing your plans already taken a back-step?"

* * *

Oz watched as the former Scooby talked, shocked by the sudden violence in him. That wasn’t Xander, usually he tried to avoid violence until it was completely unavoidable. Shaking himself, he listened to what was being discussed, as Xander poured himself over the rudimentary map of the locality. Finally Xander looked up. "It’s here," the youth jabbed a finger at the map, Coral Caves, it’s roughly half way between here and Eagles’ Peak. They waited until we’d gone past and then rushed down to attack."

"Why weren’t there any tracks?" a distinctly nervous-looking Carl queried. "If it went down like you say, and I’m not doubting you," the werewolf hurriedly added, "we’d have seen some tracks."

Xander paused for a second before answering. "There probably was," the youth slowly replied, "someone cast a concealment spell so we wouldn’t see them."

"What’s the plan?" put in Sandra, a middle-aged woman who cooked the best bread in the village, her normally genial eyes flint hard.

"What’s your weapons situation?" Xander looked to Carl.

"Eight rifles, some knives-."

"No," Xander shook his head. "That’s nothing like enough." Oz’s eyes widened when his fellow Sunnydaler reached into his Always Pocket and began pulling out weapons. How big was that thing? "How many of you will be coming?"

"All of us," Carl replied.

Xander shook his head again. "No, you need to leave some behind to guard the others. Besides, we have the advantage of surprise. Let’s keep it that way."

"Yeah," Carl nodded. "That makes sense. Maybe ten then."

"Right," Xander nodded. "With me, Faith, and Tara that makes thirteen." Xander grimaced. "Make it nine of you, I’ve got enough bad luck without pushing it." The Californian glanced at him. "You coming?" After a second, Oz nodded. "Good." Xander threw him a shotgun. "Good news is Fenrir is invulnerable to silver, so you at least don’t need to be worried about being injured. But he is vulnerable to fire, so you’ll be issued with incendiary ammo. We’ll go in an hour, okay?" Without waiting for assent, Xander strode from the hall, stopping just outside, gazing into the sky.

"You seemed intense in there."

His former friend started as if surprised by his presence. Shaking himself, Xander turned to him, a rueful smile on his face. "You noticed that huh? It’s Mithras," Xander’s face hardened. "He’s not the most tolerant of people." Xander laughed, the sound harsh, discordant to Oz’s attuned ears. "That’s the understatement. Usually, when I’m with the girls or in a normal everyday situation, I’m in control, but sometimes in danger, he stops giving me advice and takes over."

Oz blinked. Well that was unexpected. "Scary?"

Xander let out a sigh that confirmed Oz’s suspicions. "I can’t let it scare me," Xander lied. "He helps me protect my girls and that’s the important thing. Speaking of which, I’m heading back there. Coming?"

"Sure."

* * *

Faith glanced up at the sound of the front door creaking open. Seeing Xand stood there with Oz beside him, she summonsed a tired smile, hugged the still glassy-eyed Tara. "I’ll just be a min, sweetie," she whispered before rising from her chair.. "Hey honey," she murmured as she walked over to her honey and flung her arms around him, grateful for the comfort she always got from him. "Missed ya."

"You too," X whispered before placing a tender kiss on her forehead. Her boyfriend looked over her shoulder. "How’s Tara?"

"Hey you holding me, and you’re checking out my sis, what’s up with that?" Faith whispered in a feeble attempt at humour. Sobering, she shook her head. "Not good, Xan, she’s like come out of her coma, but she ain’t making much sense."

Xander sighed. "Damn."

"What’s the plan for the bastards who did all this?" Faith growled, a slow-burning anger building up inside her. These assholes were gonna pay for putting her sis in danger.

"I’ve worked out where they’re staying. We’re leaving in just under an hour," Xander hesitated. "I didn’t know if you’d be up to coming-."

"We’re coming with you," Tara looked up, a dangerous light in her eyes. The witch looked down at the corpses on the floor. "We’re both coming with you."

Faith heard her boy-friend’s gulp. "Well, I guess that’s settled then." Xander offered them both a sickly smile. "You’re coming. Great!"

* * *

Alfred bristled inwardly as he heard the others talk. He’d been humiliated in front of the people he’d led for years. "And all because of that bitch of a Slayer," he smiled as he looked down at the shotgun he’d taken from the murderer’s boyfriend’s stash. But she’d pay. Who’d be smirking when he blew out her brains?

FIC: MC 22 May ’00 Wolf-Boy (9/9)

"How we gonna do this, X?" Faith whispered in his ear.

Xander didn’t reply immediately, choosing instead to continue staring at the far end of the canyon they’d spent the last ninety minutes journeying to. What he saw confirmed his suspicions; the two fur wearing men stood at the far end of the canyon, just outside the entrance to a cave had to belong to the Leif Of Fenrir.

But they also represented a heck of a problem. The canyon was some 250 metres long, and straight and narrow, both men would have to be blind not to notice their approach. He could take out one with a rifle shot, but two before the second managed to sound the alarm would be a stretch and he didn’t know any of Oz’s fellow werewolves well enough to risk them taking the second shot. "Faith," Xander scowled as he came to an unpalatable decision. "Can you climb up the rocks to the left, crawl up there and jump down on the one nearest?"

"Sure," his girl-friend nodded, "but in these conditions, I’m not sure I can get both before one sets off an alarm."

Xander raised his rifle. "I’ll take care of the other."

* * *

"Five by five." After a long, lingering kiss with Xander and a quick wink at sis, Faith stared up at the rocks and scowled. On their own the craggy rocks prevented little obstacle to one with a Slayer’s natural agility, but all covered in ice was a different matter. "This is gonna be a pain in the ass," Faith muttered.

"You’re sure you can handle this?"

Faith looked over her shoulder to her boyfriend and smirked. "I can do it, just might take a little time is all." Her reassurance given, Faith turned back to the rocks, took a breath, and leapt into the air, right arm outstretched. Grabbing a hold of the thirty-five foot high rock, she easily pulled herself up onto its peak, gritting her teeth as the jagged rock bit into her gloved hand. Forgoing her usual saunter even in such perilous conditions, Faith stayed on her hands and knees and started to crawl towards the cave entrance, cursing both the strong winds that threatened to throw her from the rocks and the rough, uneven surface that rubbed painfully at both her hands and knees. "What, Slayer powers couldn’t come with rhino hide?" she grinned suddenly. "Though X is always saying I’ve got one."

Faith gasped when her left hand slipped on a patch of ice, sending her tumbling towards the canyon edge. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of a crevice, just inches before pitching into the canyon below. Faith took a rattling breath. The fall wouldn’t have killed or injured her, but the big ass guns of the two guards would sure have made a mess of her.

After nervous lick of her lips and shake of her head, Faith continued on, thankfully making the rest of the journey without incident. Looking down at the two men below her, Faith shook her head and grinned sarcastically. "Now comes the easy part." After a silent prayer that X’s aim was steady, Faith dropped off the canyon and knees-first onto the shoulders of the nearest guy.

The man hit the snow-covered ground hard, but rolled up quickly. Ducking under his straight right and moving quickly inside, feet scuffling up snow as she did so, Faith simultaneously drove an elbow into his throat and a knee into his groin. The man let out a croak before dropping soundlessly to the ground.

Spinning around, fists held ready for a brawl, Faith relaxed when she saw the man’s companion lying crumpled against the cave wall, a tell-tale pool of crimson staining the snow beneath him, and a hole where his right eye should be. Ignoring her queasy stomach, Faith turned to the unconscious man. "Babe, ya got off easy."

"You did it!"

Faith grinned at her boyfriend’s exultant voice. She shook her head as her man led the others through the canyon. "Ya doubted me? I’m hurt." Xander grinned before engulfing her in a hug. "Ya think they’ve started the ceremony?"

Her boyfriend’s face dropped at her question. "I checked at the village, they’ve got the thirteen hearts, so yeah, they’ll be casting it. It’s a long ceremony, but even so we won’t have much time."

Seeing how tense her X looked, Faith leaned up and kissed him on the chin. "Best go and kick some demon worshipper ass then, uh?"

"Yeah," Xander’s answering smile had a strained quality to it. Her honey turned to her sis. "Tara, you’ll have to lead the way, sense where the black magic is coming from."

"Sorta like a sniffer dog." Faith smiled innocently at Tara’s glare. "What?" she queried. "Just trying to clarify shit."

Xander chuckled before turning to the others. "The rest of you, remember it’ll be dark and enclosed in there. Use the hand-weapons you were issued for on the cult members. Save your ammo for Fenrir, we’ll need all of it."

"Shit," Faith muttered, "regular ray of sunshine, ain’t ya?"

* * *

Curtis Ikuea smirked as he looked around the dark cavern. He was stood in the centre of a circle of recently-slain werewolf hearts his thirteen most worthy acolytes had created, their knives held ready for the crucial moment, the instant the chant reached its climax. Behind them, waited the rest of his order in the shadows, another dozen or so. So few, but with the return of their god, their numbers and power would swell. "Fenrir! Most Magnificent! Ravager Of Worlds! Mutilator of Gods! Crippler of Deities! I, your unworthy servant, summon you!" He nodded to his acolytes.

Their daggers plunged down, thrusting through the vital organs, viscera spurting out, staining the already dark floor. And then a cold wind, cold enough to make those outside seem warm by comparison, built up, its power enough to suck the wind out of his lungs, yet strangely not enough to lift him off the ground.

Just as Curtis thought he’d pass from oxygen depravation, the wind subsided, replaced by a crackling vortex darker than the darkest black, its menacing bleakness tearing at his soul.

Suddenly terror-stricken, Curtis tried to back away but found to his chagrin his legs no longer obeyed him. After a blood-curdingly long minute, a monstrous figure stepped out of the vortex, its screams ripping at his sanity.

"Nooo," drool dribbled from his gaping mouth at the massive beast stood before him, its head bowed to avoid scraping against the chamber’s ceiling.

Fenrir stood over twelve feet tall with impossibly wide shoulders that swelled out into a barrel sized chest before plunging into a narrow chest. The huge demon was covered from head to toe with thick brown fur, its thickly-muscled legs curved back like a wolf’s and something about the way it stood suggested it would refer running on all fours rather than standing upright. Worse still was the abomination’s lupine-shaped head, its yellow eyes shining with an ageless cunning that only another malign immortal could match and teeth-filled mouth looking more than capable of ripping a man limb from limb.

Oh god, too late Curtis realised he’d made a terrible mistake. "Mast-." He screamed as a paw came up, tearing his head from his shoulders with an easy swipe.

* * *

"Oh god," Xander’s mouth dried as he heard the terrible, helpless screams as they approached, "we’re too late."

Picking up the pace, he ran on, pushing ahead of the others. Entering the cavern, he found a scene of mayhem, limbless bodies lying everywhere, the cavern’s walls decorated in blood, intestines and bones covering the ground. At his entry, the demon smiled, displaying three inch long blood-stained teeth.

"Oh fuck," Faith breathed beside him. "What do we do, X?"

* * *

Norway, 5,000,000 BC.

"I’ve got a chain around his neck!" Mithras exclaimed, heart thumping as he stared at the massive demon struggling against the restraints the eight of them had on him. Eight of the mightiest warriors in the world, and for all that, they were straining to hold the monster. This was the last of the arch-demons in this realm, creatures not with the magical powers or intelligence of a demon-lord, but a formidable opponent nonetheless. "Okuni, do the spell now!"

"I’m going as fast as I can!" responded the wizened mage stood behind them.

"Do it faster!" barked Aray, glancing at the man.

Just then, Fenrir let out an earth-shaking bellow and back-handed Aray off his feet. Before any of them could react, the demon had Tyr’s arm in his mouth. "AHHHHH!" his friend screamed as the monster jerked his head, ripping the arm out of the socket, blood jettisoning everywhere, showering monster and humans alike. Eyes rolling back, the warrior fell to his knees, vomit staining his breastplate.

"Done!" Okuni screamed as the monster who’d killed his friend was sucked through a portal.

* * *

Realising her honey hadn’t answered her, Faith nudged him in the ribs, her eyes fixed on the horror before them. "X! X! X!"

After her third prompt Xander shook his head as if clearing it. "Everyone spread out. Shoot it, force it back to the vortex. If it gets close enough, it’ll be sucked through."

"Right." Drawing her gun, Faith began shooting, her bullets hitting the monster’s fridge-sized chest, briefly flaring and going out.

The monster’s answering bellow echoed around the cave, and his glare, well that just made Faith want to change her pants wicked fast. A half-second later, her ears pounded to the echo of her companions shooting their weapons. Faith’s eyes widened when bullet after bullet drove into the beast’s chest, and although it was forced backwards, the shots seemed to have little effect.

"What happens if we run out of ammo?" she screamed over the echo of gunfire as she shoved in her fourth clip.

"Don’t ask." Xander’s face said it all.

Faith let out a gasp when suddenly the beast roared and looked behind himself, a second later and he was sucked into the vortex behind him, it closing a half-second later. Faith looked down at her gun and shuddered. She’d emptied three clips of her assault rifle into the monster and half of her fourth and final one. If it had hung on for just a few more seconds they’d all be toast.

* * *

Alfred smiled as he aimed his gun. One shot and a Slayer bitch would be dead. One shot and she’d pay for what she took from her years ago. And then her boyfriend too, for daring to usurp him. His finger tugged gently on the trigger.

* * *

Xander spun around at the sound of a shot behind him. Immediately Carl dropped his shotgun to the ground, face paling and hands rising. "He," the werewolf nodded towards the corpse, "was going to shoot Faith."

Xander glanced at Tara, eyes questioning the man’s veracity. Tara nodded. "Thanks." Xander nodded. "Thanks a lot."

"I second that emotion," Faith put in before glancing at X. "We going?" Xander nodded.

"Wait!" Xander turned back to Carl. After a nervous look at his fellow Lupines, the werewolf continued. "We’re going to need help to get our village back together. You said you had resources," the man licked his lips, "if your offer’s still open."

Xander glanced at Tara. Again the witch inclined her head. "Okay, but only if Oz is our contact and your second-in-command."

Carl looked to the rock guitarist. Oz shrugged. "Sure. But tell them the truth."

Xander looked at Tara and Faith, seeing the confusion he felt mirrored in their faces. After a second, Carl spoke. "This village, it’s just one of six all in within two weeks’ travel from here. There’s maybe twelve hundred of us. Maybe one hundred and fifty adult werewolves of the right age, half that who can control the change in a fight."

"Looks like ya got a Canada branch," Faith commented.

"Looks like we have," Xander agreed, eyes fixed on Carl. "Let’s talk."

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