Savior of the Broken

“I wasn’t bitten, no.” He resisted the urge to make a joke about the bedroom. This wasn’t the mood for it, and though that didn’t stop him at the best of times, he managed to use his better judgement for once. “I’m a born werewolf. I inherited it from my parents. You’ll learn a lot about some bloody snobs who think that makes ‘em better than the ones who are bitten. Nonsense, if you ask me.”

“Aw, you think I’m nice?” He said, beaming. “Sorry, not the point. 'Course they’re nice. A pack is too important for me to join one if it’s filled with wankers,” he said with a slight grin. He’d been without a pack for so long. None of them felt any good for him, too strict and controlling, contradicting with his reckless nature and free spirit. But then the Zalman pack had come along, and it had been the perfect fit. “It’s like a family.”

He’d cleaned and bandaged up Finn as best he could with his limited skills. Now the poor lad was just sitting there awkwardly in his boxers. “Clothes,” he said, nipping off to fetch him some. He came back, placing some dark jeans and a henley in Finn’s lap. “The jeans might be a bit long for you, but you can roll them up 'til we get you to the shops.”

“Werewolf...families?” Finn was incredulous. He could hardly wrap his mind around werewolves existing at all, let alone having families of them, passing the gene down and how some of those families might thing they were better than anyone else for being monsters. “Are there, ya know…’wanker’ packs here?” “It’s like a family.”

The phrase echoed around Finn’s brain while his host sped off to grab him some clothes. He has just lost his entire family, his entire future, his home. Even if he could find his way out of here, where would he even go? There was nothing to return to. The idea of a pack for his new life, whatever cursed life that may be, it was the one thread Finn felt himself grasping onto. 

“Would- could I be part of that family?” He asked weakly, already feeling the blood flooding to his cheeks. Surely there was some sort of initiation or application process or test of awesomeness. 

She was glad she wasn’t alone in the sentiment. Mayhem and chaos didn’t have a schedule it adhered to. Instead, it disrupted the lives of the helpful whenever it saw fit. Pen didn’t mind that much. It wasn’t as if she had a family to return home to. Only a dog that was thoroughly spoiled with daily visits from a dog walker and an open invitation for cuddling when she returned home from a trying day. She barely managed to catch the power bar when he threw it to her, managing to clasp it in her hand at the last second. “Thanks?” The witch replied, a smirk on her face. “Its better than hospital cafeteria food, at the very least.” She ripped it open and took a large satisfying bite, following behind Finn as he traipsed the woods.

“Well, that’s comforting.” She retorted, her eyes darting over the forest for any movement. She wasn’t a tracker by any means, her expertise lay in medicine and witchcraft and intertwining the two whenever she could. Confused and scared. Those two words were almost like a jump start for her, propelling her into action and racing thoughts of worst-case scenarios. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and let out a quick, determined breath.  Positive thoughts, Pen. She thought to herself, dragging her eyes over to Finn in worry. “We better get a move on then. Not to… “bloodhound” you, but can you catch a scent? If they’re a werewolf and the blood loss is steady, they can last a while but sooner or later…”

Pen frowned and reached forward to take the small bit of fur from Finn’s fingers. “No, never.” She murmured, turning it over in her hand. Thoughts raced through her head, journals, and books she had read in the compound’s library on magical creatures- werewolves especially. She couldn’t place Finn’s findings with any knowledge that she had and that worried her more than she thought it would. “So either we’re dealing with a particular kind of werewolf or… Something else entirely.”

“I’m trying, but there’s a lot going on out here…” He trailed off, staring at the tuft of vibrant fur. No wolf he knew had fur like that, hell most things he knew of didn’t have fur like that. Unless you counted his old neighbor who dyed her poodle a disturbing shade of scarlet to match her own very unnatural hair. 

“I don’t think we’re dealing with one of my kind…” A sound jerked his attention away from the fur, his heart sinking. Finn was the predator often enough to realize when he was actually the prey. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his eyes snapped up to the sound. He froze, hoping Pen would follow suit, as his eyes found the source of the noise. A bright red lump was sitting a few yards above the pair, somehow poised and ready to jump. Finn had seen some vague drawings resembling this thing, but to be honest, he was a little out of his element here. 

“Pen, move!” 

Luckily Finn had his wolfy instincts, and he lunged, pushing Pen out of the path of destruction. It all happened in a second: the creature leaped out of the tree, somehow adjusting for Finn’s movement, and it came crashing down on him. The wolf thrashed, trying to get a look at the thing now that it was closer but all he could see was a giant mouth. Was this thing trying to swallow him whole?? He wrestled with the giant blob of fur, trying to get the upper hand. It wasn’t the strongest thing he’d ever fought, but it definitely had the element of surprise.

“A little help here!”

“Okay first of all, you are a beautiful proud werewolf and if anything this is more like Princess Mononoke alright?” That same prideful, giddy laugh erupted out of her.  This kind of ‘danger’ and ‘mischief’ was what she missed. Playful, and nice. A good break from all this…. breaking. Ashbourne could beat you down, but if moments like this still existed, it made it all a little bit worth it. 

Down to the ground, out in the cold. Okay. Not too much longer now. Carefully she hopped up, sure to not brace anything against her arm in the process. Then wrapped her good arm around his shoulders and held tight. “Is this alright? Not too much?” Admittedly, he had a supernatural advantage, but it wasn’t like she was trying to be a burden. 

“And seriously Finn-” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “You really didn’t have to do this, I know how much the watch means to you, and you could have gotten in trouble…”  A contemplative moment later, she squeezed him tighter in her grip. “So thank you. Lots.” 

Finn caught himself before a booming laugh erupted from him, giving away their location. Instead, he let out a choked giggle and slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’ll take your word for it, then.” He accentuated with a flip of his shaggy hair before hoisting her onto his back. 

Josie was light, barely even registering at weight on his back. “You’re fine, Jos.” He hitched her up, making sure she was secure before glancing back with a smile. “What would my life even be if I didn’t risk my job on a daily basis? Really, it’s no trouble. You call me any time, okay?”

“I think we all know what ‘fine’ means to some extent.” Peter offered back slowly, chewing carefully on the thought before he quickly brushed it away. He hadn’t really been fine for a long time, before he had even discovered the true nature of what he had become. He had lost his family, which had been traumatic enough for him at eleven, and then had discovered, almost a decade later, that it had been by his own hand that he had lost them. Well… by his own paw. Teeth, Claws. The monster had taken them from him without caring a bit for the fact that Peter himself had needed them.

Why did he deserve a new family when he had destroyed the old one? At the least, Peter could take comfort in the fact that this new family could defend themselves from him. It was a small comfort. He huffed out a soft sigh. “It’s nothing I haven’t learned how to cope with.” He offered finally. He wouldn’t admit that his coping had grown more and more unhealthy over the years. That his tendencies tended to lean more suicidal the older he got.

A chuckle finally left him, strained but an attempt, anyway. “That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all night, Finn.” Cheap whiskey, half a bottle would do little to nothing to get him the buzz that he wanted, but it was a good start. And the company could be worse, at the least. “Whenever you’re ready, I think I’ve gotten the majority of the extraneous blood cleaned up. Just the blood that makes sense left.”

“Yeah, I know,” He replied gently, letting the subject close. It wasn’t always Finn’s place to be everyone’s savior, as he was told quite often. It wasn’t his strength, leaving people alone when they clearly needed help, but what he was good at was being the one people came to in times of need. Or when they had a murder to cover up.

“Coping is good.” Even if it wasn’t always moving on and living. “Aaand coping with crappy booze is even better!” He stood, brushing himself off and taking another look at the scene, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Blood was at a minimum, the body was repositioned vaguely enough to keep the Watcher’s confused, and hell, maybe he’d even pawn this one off on that stupid kid, Gus. Lord knows he wouldn’t be able to do anything with this.

“I think we’re all good here. Man, we really make a good ‘murder clean up’ team huh?” He joked, hoping he wouldn’t have to do this kind of thing again and knowing he most definitely would.

“Let’s go grab that drink.”

Peter felt his smile falter slightly, listening to Finn. He wasn’t entirely sure that he honestly deserved the kindness that the man was offering him, and it caused a small lump to form in his throat. Especially when the man called him family. Peter had never really thought about it, about how his pack truly were a family he hadn’t realized he needed for so long. When he had joined the pack in the first place, it was because he had no idea what he was getting into, but the pack, the men and women that he spent so much of his time around now. He offered a shaky sigh, carefully keeping his hand moving on his quest to clean, trying to hide the shaking in it. “Thank you.” His voice was soft, careful. Guarded, maybe. He was trying to pull that emotion back. He didn’t need to go acting like a baby in the middle of a murder scene.

Finn’s next words froze Peter for a moment, caused his jaw to tighten slightly. His immediate response was to raise up hackles, to get defensive. He had nothing to talk about, nothing he needed to say. That was what he had always told himself. He had problems, sure, but he dealt with them on his own, most of the time. Something like a murder? Sure, call up a friend to help hide the evidence. But when it came to his own personal problems?

Another soft sigh, and he shook his head a bit. “I appreciate it. I’m fine.” A mantra, he was fine. Everything was fine. He offered a bit of a wry grin, forcing his shaky hand to steady completely as he did. “If I ever want to talk, I’ll be sure to keep the offer in mind.”

Finn felt the air change, the tensity raise. Surprising, given the fact they were cleaning up a pretty graphic murder scene, that there was levity at all. But Finn felt it, and immediately regretting making the offer. Not because he didn’t mean it, but because it tended to evoke a defensive response. The opposite of what he was trying to do. So he let Peter sidestep the offer, brushing off the problems Finn knew he had. Maybe it wasn’t his place to be the vessel for him to unwind. And that was fine. He only hoped Peter would find someone to reach out to and unload even one of his problems onto.

He smiled, reaching out and patting Peter on the shoulder. “You know I know what ‘fine’ means, right?” His smile was teasing and he tried to keep it light. He wasn’t about to poke and prod Peter into talking when he clearly didn’t want to. At the same time, he wanted his friend to know that he wasn’t alone. Finn had been there. He’d told Harlan ‘I’m fine’ and then destroyed half his apartment or took a 4 hour sob-shower more times than he could count. 

“Now let’s finish this up and get the hell outta here, sound good? I think I’ve got a bottle of really terrible whiskey that may or may not be more like rubbing alcohol at this point back at my place if you’re interested in washing our collective memories clean of this.” 

After switching out her scrubs for clothes worthy of trudging through the woods, Pen grabbed her medical bag and headed out to the woods. This wasn’t a particularly unusual occurrence- healing was her calling after all. But dealing with more…delicate situations was quickly becoming her forte. Three years she had been in this strange town and making it her home had proven harder than she initially believed when she first arrived. When she first realized that there was no going back to her old life, whether she wanted to or not.

Work had been her solace, her safety net, her blanket to wrap herself in when the world became cruel. She immersed herself in it in the same way she did everything- with her entire being. In some strange way, it reminded her that she was human. Humans craved many things; comfort, food, shelter and above all, escape. Escape she craved more than anything. She breathed in the air as she finally came to the lake, the smell of water and earth mixing together in a natural symphony. It made her wonder what in the world Finn had managed to dredge up all the way out there. 

The witch adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder and stopped short when she heard a familiar voice in the distance. With a small huff, she pushed herself forward until her eyes laid upon the werewolf and watcher. “Just me, I come in peace,” Penelope joked, holding up her hands in mock surrender. She blew out a small puff of air to move a loose strand of hair that fell before her eyes and looked at Finn expectantly. “So, what am I doing at the lake this early? Could they really not wait until lunch, maybe save the distress until I’ve had a decent meal?” It was all said in mirth. She gestured to the bag on her shoulder. “You were a little vague on the details so I brought… everything?” Her brows knitted in thought. “You know, uh, medical and… otherwise. Herbs, poultices. What are we dealing with, by the way?”

Finn straightened, glancing over his shoulder at Pen. He smiled, hoisting his bag further up on his shoulder. “Hey, if I could control the timing of all the weird shit and creatures in need, I’d space ‘em out a lot better and make sure none of it happened before 11am.” He chuckled, pulling out a power bar and tossing it over. He always snagged a few from the station before heading out, especially for insanely early or late cases. “I wouldn’t call it decent, but maybe it’ll tie you over?”

He turned his attention back to the lake, his eyes scanning the area for footprints, torn or broken branches, any kind of blood trail. “Unfortunately, what you know is more or less what I know,” he replied, stepping forward and beginning his investigation of the area in earnest. “My guess is a new werewolf, probably confused and scared. There’s a fair amount of blood near, I can smell it…” Finn progressed in a more pointed direction, stepping towards the treeline. It was never his favorite thing to do, walking through - or even near - the woods that surrounded the town. He’d heard enough horror stories about the missing and dead that both disappeared and reappeared within its borders.

He would have called that a major understatement. Calling the mutt a ‘bit of a dick’. He would have said a horrible, disgusting monster, personally. But those thoughts, he had learned, were better kept in his head, and he forced himself to smile at the attempted ribbing. He had no agency over the beast, and he was well aware that people thought he shouldn’t blame himself for the actions of the animal that lived in his skin. It didn’t make it any easier to take any of that advice to heed. It was still inside of him, it was still his body, lupine as it might be, and it was still him to some degree. He had always done what he could to separate himself from the wolf, but it was always there, in the back of his mind snarling and growling and weighing in. It was always there in his heightened senses, always there in the way that he was quick to anger and instinct took over in moments that he would rather they not. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t help but admit that, deep down, the beast and the man were still the same thing. Hiding behind his compartmentalization only got him so far. 

He was a bit glad, at the very least, that he wasn’t getting a lecture on hanging around with the Ulrich wolf. It wasn’t as if it had been a conscious choice. They hadn’t decided to go and get a beer together like they were friends. He and that mongrel were never going to be friends. Still, he owed the man a debt in his life. Perhaps he could forget it, simply because he had ended up wrapped up in this little murder. He could keep that debt off his list simply because it had only gotten him more trouble than it was worth. He would consider it. Maybe send the oafish lumberjack a nice bottle of scotch or something if guilt hit him over the whole thing. 

“I am not aware, please do enlighten me, oh wise one. What do they say about being the prettiest and the easiest?” This time his grin was genuine, and he offered a bit of a sigh as he glanced down at his (completely ruined) shirt again before ripping a strip of it off and soaking it in the bleach in his other hand, glanced around before kneeling to start wiping off the bloody trash can lid that was still on the ground. “Thank you, by the way… For coming. I… know I’m kind of jeopardizing your job with this… I just didn’t know who else to call.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Finn laughed, letting some levity fall over the macabre scene. He was still disappointed in Peter, but more so he was worried. He’d always known the guy took to being a werewolf worse than a lot of the pack, but Finn never thought he’d just go around putting himself in this kind of danger. He thought he had more to live for than that. But now wasn’t the time to reprimand him too much. It wouldn’t make anything better for him to add more guilt to the already massive load he knew Peter carried for himself.

Harlan didn’t know what Finn had been through. Maybe ‘lucky’ hadn’t been the right choice of words. It wasn’t as if people who’d been turned into werewolves usually had an easy go of things, but Finn’s whole demeanour told Harlan his brush in had probably been a bit more extreme than many cases. He tried to find his tact, considering how best to explain this so as not to traumatize the poor man any further.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled up a chair so he could sit opposite Finn, looking him in the eyes while he spoke to him. “Your bite. I know a werewolf bite when I see it because… I am one.” The rolling pin should at least reassure Finn he wasn’t lying. “Since you were bitten on the full moon, you’re going to start turning into one too. It’s going to hurt. All your bones breaking and your body rearranging itself… I don’t say it to scare you, but you need to know what you’re in for.”

He tried to take his answers slowly, answering Finn step by step, a conscious effort for him since he normally spoke a mile a minute. Harlan was so used to life as a werewolf, life in the supernatural world, that it was easy to skip over things when explaining it to someone else, thinking they’d understand more than they did. “It gets easier, with time. My pack, the Zalman pack, we look after each other. We can help you.”

As if Finn’s world hadn’t already just come crashing down, now he was being told he was now some sort of supernatural, fictional monster, the same kind that supposedly killed and shredded Mari and his future in one fell swoop. Finn felt woozy, and not from his wounds or the alcohol. He took another long sip, cringing as the liquid burned some feeling back into him. 

“You?” He looked up, raising an eyebrow. The guy definitely seemed too calm for having taken a bloody and broken stranger into his house, not to mention how easily he snapped the rolling pin. “Were you bitten?” If Harlan was trying not to scare him, he was doing a pretty shit job of it. But realistically, what would be a better way to break that kinda news? If his mind had been in a less shattered state, Finn knew he would appreciate the heads up. 

Josie was grinning something fierce by the time he’d gotten over to the elevator. She stood triumphant over near the buttons, and soon as he stepped on she pressed the button that’d lead to their eventual freedom. The patient leaned her back against the cool metal walls as the elevator started it’s descent. “Well, I think I should have some sort of slippers in that bag, but it might honestly be faster if you do. I’m not so sure my shufflin’ is gonna work so well on concrete.” 

Piggy back ride. Wow. She’d not gotten one of those in a while. Probably since the last time she and her brother had to very quickly run away from something. Maybe before Ashbourne entirely, though those first few years were not the easiest either. A question for later, when her thoughts were more gathered and less foggy from the concussion and or the pain meds. 

“Also if we can avoid any mopeds that’d be super great. I don’t remember you ever having one, but like, just in case so. Please say no.” 

Though he’d meant it as a joke, Finn knew she was right, it would be faster and probably easier on both of them if he just carried her. They descended through the few floors of the hospital and Finn shrugged out of his jacket, placing it around Josie’s shoulders. “Alright, but only if you promise not to make any horse noises, ‘kay?” 

It had been ages since Finn had given a real piggy back ride, one that was almost out of joy rather than necessity. Probably before he ever reached the borders of Ashbourne. Mari had loved them, always squealing with delight whenever he threw her over his shoulders. 

A loud ding signaled their arrival on the ground floor and Finn motioned for Josie to stay put for a quick second while he checked if the coast was clear. Instead of just saying an all clear, he waved his hands around in nonsense, pretend military code with a grin on his face.

Peter let out a wet laugh, head shaking a bit. “Right, not a monster. Tell that to the thing that comes ripping out of my skin once a month.” There was more. So much more that Peter could say. He could write an entire books worth of proof that he was an abomination, a monster hiding in human skin. There was a precedent for it, after all. God, his God, would have looked at him as a monster, and that was quite enough for Peter. Even if his faith kept him firm, kept him believing, he knew that the moment he died, he would be rejected from Heaven and find himself wallowing in his misery in Hell. Tortured and reminded for all eternity that he was evil.

If he even had a soul left.

A sharp intake of breath, and Peter quickly shook his head. “He saved my life.” His tone was defensive, even when it didn’t have to be. He had watched the man murder this poor hunter when they just as easily could have roughed him up and gone home. Still, Peter would have been dead if the other mutt hadn’t shown up, and that was something. Even if it had been Peter’s intention in the first place…

He reached out automatically, grabbed the bottle from the air and took a quick look around. “Doesn’t everyone want the most beautiful werewolf in Ashbourne for their own?” The jokes and the teasing helped as he uncapped the bottle, taking a few weary steps over to assess the true damage of the situation. “What are you planning? I don’t want to get you in trouble with that… man you work for.”

A tight smile, a pitying smile, found it’s way onto Finn’s face. He hoped the darkness would hide it, knowing how terrible someone’s pity felt. It wasn’t like Finn was unfamiliar with the idea that he was a monster. They all did, from time to time. Sometimes more often. It had taken Finn years to come to grips with his new nature, and the fact that he was now the same creature that had taken away his future, and the future of the one person he loved most in the world. Everyone had their own baggage, their own losses, and it took everyone their own time to deal with it. But no matter how much he was around his new brothers, no matter how hard he knew it could be, it never stopped breaking his heart when his new family felt hopeless. 

“Yeah, that guy can be a bit of a dick,” he tried, throwing an elbow at Peter to show he was trying to joke. Joke’s weren’t always his best thing, but he tried. It was the thought that counted, right? Sometimes Finn preferred when the beast took over. Sometimes it was better to forget, better to let someone else have the reins for a bit. But he knew the guilt hangover that came with it too. Far too well.

“Sure,” he nodded, still pretty pissed off that Peter was keeping company with someone like Gabe, but at the same time knowing when to keep his mouth shut. And he was right. As much as Finn didn’t like the guy, he didn’t deserve to be hunted like this. None of them did.

“Okay, okay. But you gotta at least make them work for it, hm? You know what they say about the prettiest and the easiest…” He laughed, bending down and pulling some more supplies out of his bag. “First things first, get rid of all the wolf smell. Jack may not be able to smell it, but you know someone else might and they’re not gonna pull punches.” His voice shifted from jovial to terse as it always did when he had to talk about the Chief. “We’re gonna keep it ambiguous, a nightly stroll in a bad neighborhood gone wrong.” He shrugged. “Not so far off from the truth, just without any packs involved.”

“Hey, Mrs. Thomas’ blood pressure was a little low during her exam today. Can we get her scheduled for an ECG?” Pen rattled off the moment she hit the nurse station, her eyes tethered to the clipboard in her hand with her latest patients’ charts. It was still fairly early in the day, but the hospital was already running like a well oiled machine. Nurses and doctors fluttered past, some in a rush, others still sipping their morning coffee. Penelope herself had a pen sticking out of her hair, a testament to the end of her oddly scheduled shift. 

“Don’t you ever take a break, Ramos?” One of the other nurses shot back at her as Pen handed them her charts. The witch smiled back and shook her head, her hand reaching up to rub against her eyes. “Yeah, I like to schedule a little “me” time during my walk from the parking garage. Very invigorating.” The other nurse shook her head and chuckled her. “Well, Nurse Invigorated, you got a call on line one.” Pen frowned before she reached over the desk and picked up the phone. “This is Nurse Ramos…” 

Finn Blackthorne. A watcher, a werewolf, a friend- she guessed. He was a decently good person, the kind she trusted enough not to stab her in the back or try to peal apart the delicate pieces of her life. For those worries, she had to look elsewhere. “Depends, how interesting are we talking?” She pulled out her phone and looked at the clock. “ Uh yeah, twenty minutes is good. I’ll grab my bag and see you then.”

“The kind of interesting I’m not equipped to deal with,” he replied with a small chuckle. It wasn’t funny, but Finn liked to be self-deprecating first thing in the morning. He grabbed his too cold cup of coffee and headed for the door. “See you soon, then!” 

It didn’t take long for the werewolf to reach the lakeside. No matter how many times he came out here, the place always gave him the chills. Something about lakes not having a steady current like the ocean, or the black water hiding lord knew how many mysteries under the surface. There hadn’t been any overly supernatural drownings since he’d gotten to town, not until recently. The word mermaid had been tossed around more often than ever before and all he could think about were the old stories his grandparents used to tell him about the “sirens of the sea”, beautiful but hauntingly vicious creatures who drowned any man they could get a hold of. He shivered and reminded himself he was a man of the Watch. He was a protector of this town and he would not be frightened by some old legends his parents told him a million miles away from here.

While he waited for Pen to arrive, Finn took a lap around the area. The call had been vague, mentioning fur, blood, and a rather frightened voice. He suspected a new werewolf, given the state of the moon and how shitty he was feeling himself, but the town was full of surprises. There wasn’t much at the scene, but if they were dealing with someone scared and confused, the person in question was probably hiding. He kept his footsteps light, not wanting to spook anyone before he had company. The smell of iron was light on the wind, probably no more than 3 or 4 hours old. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?”