Halloween story! This story had been such a journey and I can say that me and crystabelshalott are really proud of it and I hope you enjoy this as much as we do, we're really sorry for any eventual mistakes and happy Halloween!
It had all started with him and Thomas looking out for a new adventure. They were trying to prove that, contrary to popular belief, there was absolutely nothing in the woods surrounding Downton Abbey. Nothing to fear, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that seemed out of place. How could there be? All those stories… They were nothing more than fairy-tales, used to warn people against wandering around in the night.
Tom and Thomas had been so sure about it, and yet they were in the wrong. All the stories, all the creatures that had been appearing in folk tales for centuries, were real. Strange things, stranger than they could have ever imagined, did happen in the woods surrounding the Abbey and the two friends, but Tom in particular, had experienced it on their own skin.
"Never leave the house after sunset. It doesn't matter who asks you to, you never, ever have to walk in the woods at night. Night time is when the wolves attack" That's what Mr. Carson had told him, between indications about routine, work and lodging, when he started to work for the Crawleys. Years had passed and he was just as cynical as he had been then about the butler's words. But even if he were, Tom couldn't get rid of the feeling of discomfort that had been possessing him the whole time. Perhaps in the woods weren't any dangerous creatures, but a prohibition was a prohibition.
What if he would have lost his job? He couldn't afford it, not when part of his earning was used to support his family. Wasn't this the main reason he was still working as a chauffeur, instead of just making the jump and try something new and something he had always wanted to do? He couldn't just let them down for a mere whim. Why on earth had he accepted Thomas's challenge? Why after all those years that he had been working for the Crawleys?
"Thomas" he hissed, trying to catch his friend's attention.
"What is it Branson? Are you panicking? Giving up? You know as well as I do that those stories are all lies" Thomas mocked him.
"Aye, but we need to get back. It's dangerous, if they find out they'll dismiss us and I can't afford it, neither can you" he warned him.
"Oh come on Branson! I've been working here for half of my life, give me the satisfaction to leave for London with the certainty that I was right all time long"
They stopped, both thinking about what to do next. Keep going, defying fate and rules, or just get back? Silence fell between them. The darkness of the woods, with the thick mist around them and only the noise of their breaths to be heard, was the perfect set up for stories of horror, on that Tom would have had to agree.
A howl.
At first the sound of feet pounding the ground was nothing but an echo, then, in a matter of seconds it got closer until it was a rapid rhythmical beat.
"Run!" screamed the both of them in unison.
They were fast, but not as fast as the creature chasing them. For some time there they were: the first footman and the chauffeur of the Crawleys running for their lives, making a good thing of it, but then the beast got the best over them.
Tom fell onto the ground. Thomas tried in vain to help him up but the creature, who now appeared to be more man than wolf, pushed him to the side making him fall against a tree. The impact took away his breath, and he remained there looking at his friend and feeling completely helpless.
Tom looked up, the red eyes of the wolf staring at him. That was definitely not the last image he wanted to see while on this earth 'God help me' he whispered before the world around him got black.
"Mr. Branson? Mr. Branson!" Mrs. Hughes's voice reached him and took him away from his memories.
He looked at Downton's housekeeper and nodded as if to acknowledge her presence.
"Are you feeling unwell? You are as white as a sheet"
"Aye, does it surprise you?" he asked her.
Both of them aware that the previous night had been a bad night for him.
"No" Mrs. Hughes replied flatly, as she took place beside him.
She knew what had happened to him, and it had been her to help Tom clean his wounds as he got back from the woods. And it was her that had summoned him to her sitting room a couple of days later, in order to explain him the consequences of his reckless actions.
Not dismissal, that would have probably been a relief compared to the truth, as Tom first had thought.
"The creature that attacked you, from what you've been describing was a werewolf and it bit you."
"A werewolf? There's no such thing"
"There is Mr. Branson, and you will turn in one of them. We can make this easier for you, I'll make this easier for you, but you have to trust me and accept my help"
Tom had been more than surprised that night to discover that Mrs. Hughes, a very serious woman, was a master in magical creatures and knew all the legends and tales that people often overlooked - just as he had done - as just fairy tales, but that were true. But he was grateful to the old woman because, after some bad starts between them, she really had been able to help him and make the whole experiences a little easier to bear.
"I appreciate your concern but it really is just a headache" he explained.
"You have had lots of headaches lately" she paused a moment and added in nothing more than a whisper "How did it go? The effects of the transformation?"
"Mrs. Hughes, is this a polite way to ask if last night I have turned into a human-eater werewolf?" asked Tom with a bit of sarcasm and anger in his voice. An apology immediately followed, after he had seen Mrs. frowning at him. After all it wasn't her fault if he had found himself in such circumstances. There was only one person to blame and that was him, him and his stupidity.
"I managed to maintain some level of control. Broken furniture and so on, but nothing beyond that. I didn't leave the cottage, I was a danger for myself only not for the others. At least in some ways I'm still like a person"
"You still are a person, Mr. Branson" reassured him Mrs. Hughes.
"Aye, one who turns into a monster every full moon"
"You are not the only one Mr. Branson, people like you… others. We live in a land of men and monsters and sometimes the real monsters are the men"
Tom shrugged, not sure whether or not to believe at her words.
"We'll talk" warned him Mrs. Hughes.
"Later. I have to take Lady Sybil to the village"
He excused himself, run towards the garage, finished to put on his livery and got in the car, driving it to the front of the house. Tom had been sure that he was in time, but Sybil Crawely - the youngest daughter of his employer and the nicest person at Downton - was already waiting for him.
"I am sorry for the wait Lady Sybil" Tom politely said as he helped her in to the car.
"Don't be. Besides I'm pretty sure that I was early myself" she took his hand "And it's a beautiful day, don't you think so Branson?"
"It is milady"
Sybil didn't add anything else, she just smiled to him. A smile that made his heart beat faster, which wasn't exactly a positive thing considering his condition as Mrs. Hughes had explained to him.
Tom looked at her for a moment and smiled back. How would have Sybil reacted knowing that her driver and friend -because indeed they were, ever since Tom had handed her some pamphlets about women's rights upon his first months at Downton- was a werewolf? A monster?
She would have thought him abhorrent, no doubt.
She would have thought him abhorrent no doubt.
Tom was wrong. Sybil would have been the last person to judge him because she had a secret herself. Perhaps it wasn't as dark as his, but it sometimes it felt like a course too and it happened before that because of it people had distanced themselves from her because they thought her mad. Sybil wasn't mad, she had thought it so herself while growing up, but in the end thanks to Mrs. Hughes, she had started to see the reason in the situation.
Ever since Sybil had been a child, she had been different: she could hear voices in her head for entire hours, voices that screamed for pain, or whispered things that were not meant to be said. The voices of people who had nothing to do with her, and yet their pain became hers. A constant burden that made her cry for long times and scream like a madman, just because she wanted to cover them with her own voice. The disapproving looks of her parents, the people whisper behind her back 'there comes the youngest daughter of the earl, the one who isn't quite right with her head.
And one day, when she was eleven, Mrs. Hughes had found her curled up in the corner of her room, hands covering her ears, crying, and whispering all over again 'please make it stop'. The touch of the house keeper as she gently removed Sybil's hands from her ears, had scared her and she fought against her to cover her ears again, with the vain belief that it would have helped.
"What is it, my darling?" asked the housekeeper sweetly and in a whisper, acting for a moment as a motherly figure for the little girl and trespassing all society rules.
"Please just make it stop, just make it stop. Make it stop!" Sybil screamed on the top of her lungs, the 'o' of stop made Sybil's face distort in a grimace of pure pain and horror. It was Sybil's scream that made rouse doubts in Mrs. Hughes's mind, and after having made some research she found them to be true.
Sybil was a banshee, a very powerful one, and was able to hear the whispers of the souls. She knew about their deaths and about their pain.
All those people in the world and Sybil could hear them all.
She had learned how to build mind barriers, to control them, but there were moments in which it would have gotten worse and nothing helped.
Tom looked back at her, and was surprised to see that there had been a change in her appearance. She looked distressed, all the happiness and joy from a moment ago completely vanished.
"Lady Sybil?" he asked, his voice barely covering the one in her head "Are feeling well? You got very pale all of sudden."
She forced a smile, before she answered "I am, thank you. And I'm not sure that I can say the same about you. You've been looking ill for this entire time"
"A headache milady. It's slowly getting better so it's nothing to worry about"
"I can suggest a remedy if you want"
Sybil hoped that he would have said yes. It would have given her a moment of distraction and it would have given her the opportunity to use her nursing skills. She loved being a nurse, and her dream was to become a doctor one day despite the fact that her father completely disapproved of her career choice. For him Sybil had to be nothing but a fine lady, though she knew that it wasn't possible not when effects happened.
"Thank you, but I doubt it will be necessary"
"Just tell me if you change your mind. It's always a pleasure to help"
She looked at Tom, took a deep breath and gathered up the courage and boldness to ask him again how he was feeling, with a tone of voice that implied not lying to her.
There was something wrong. Some time ago she had heard that someone was in danger and the same day Tom had fallen down the staircase. Now Sybil didn't absolutely believe in the staircase story, it seemed the less plausible thing on earth. Branson barely used the stairs: he lived in the chauffeurs cottage, worked in the garage, didn't have to use stairs to go to the kitchen for dinner and it was rare that the chauffeur was inside the house at all.
But she received the same answer, so she decided that she would have looked into the matter herself.