Summary: When Remus heard the news, he couldn't believe it. But it's true, and suddenly Remus finds himself without anyone left to care about him. Angst.

Rating: K+

Warnings: depression, mentioned character deaths

Remus received the owl the night it happened. The words were written on a small scroll of parchment, so innocent, and yet inside the only depths of each quill stroke lay an eternal well of despair.

The letter was from Dumbledore himself.

~Lily and James killed by Voldemort. Harry survives unharmed. Voldemort seemingly destroyed.~

In those three small sentences were contained enough sorrow to move Remus to tears. He was an emotional man, but not one to cry. He didn't often show his feelings to the outside world, instead letting his anger and self-hatred remain inside him, never quite boiling over.

Of course, Lily had always seen through his straight face. "It's okay to cry." She would say. But she never, ever let him hate himself. She would tell him that it was okay to cry in one sentence, but scold him for hating himself in the next.

"Everyone has the right to be unhappy, Remus." She told him one day. "But no one, not werewolves, not Muggleborns, should ever tell themselves they're less than another person."

And he tried. He really did, every hour of the day. But in that moment as those small words, ~Lily and James killed,~ repeated over and over in his head as his world crashed around him, he could feel his old self-loathing come back. He could sense the hateful whispers returning, and he wanted to do something, anything to make Lily come back.

And James...

James was the first one to stretch out his hand on September 1st all those years ago. He was the one to ask Remus to come and sit with them after being sorted into Gryffindor, while Remus' world was spinning with happiness at the fact that he was ACTUALLY AT HOGWARTS, and he was the first of the Marauders to figure out he was a werewolf.

Lily, of course, had it figured out before the end of first year. James, on the other hand, was more willing to accept the pitiful excuses for his absences and injuries. But halfway through second year, just before Christmas break, James had asked him, in a voice so gentle Remus would later say it reminded him of words said to a frightened animal, if he, Remus John Lupin, was a werewolf.

After a few minutes of denial, James had demanded the truth. And Remus, being twelve and terrified to lose his new friends, burst into tears and told him the whole take. It marked one of very few times he had ever cried in front of Lily or the Marauders.

Now, it seemed, would be the last.

The next day, Remus received word that Peter Pettigrew, the small sweet boy who just wanted to belong to the cool boys, was dead. Blown to smithereens by Sirius. Sirius, who had clearly betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort and killed Peter, and had been sent to Azkaban.

What little hope Remus had left crumbled into oblivion. The hope that the three remaining Marauders could band together in their grief was shattered. Instead, Remus was left in a position that had been familiar to him as a child, but he had almost forgotten about during Hogwarts. Once more, he was left in the world without a single person who cares whether he lived or died.

Lily was dead.

James was dead.

Peter was dead.

Sirius had killed Peter, and caused the deaths of Lily and James. Sirius, who had always strived to be different from his family, or so they had thought, had fallen and joined the Death Eaters and betrayed them all. Sirius, who had always been so protective of those he loved, diving in whether he held a wand or not. Sirius, who Remus had considered one of his best friends, apart from Lily and James.

Sirius, despite his gruff demeanor, had always been soft on the inside. When he'd found out that he became Padfoot, an enormous black dog, he'd known that the shape was perfect for him. From his bark-like laughter to his loyal personality, Sirius Black was just like a loyal dog.

Or so he'd thought. Instead, Sirius Black, the one who comforted him after his mother died of some unknown illness, the one who had fought numerous times on his behalf, had betrayed the Marauders. He had killed Peter, and he had as good as killed Lily and James.

Peter.

The poor boy just wanted to be accepted. He'd always been a bit on the heavier side, and he'd always been a little scared of everything. They'd always teased him about whether or not he belonged in Gryffindor... Or Hufflepuff. He had told them eventually that the hat only decided to put him in Gryffindor because it could sense that he would make good friends there. He said that he truly belonged in Hufflepuff, and felt like he didn't truly belong there. They'd stopped teasing him after that.

And yet, Peter had shown unspeakable bravery, realizing the truth and facing Sirius, trying to stop him before he could betray someone else. And as a reward for the greatest act of bravery the fearful young man had ever performed in his life, he'd been blown to bits by one he called brother. The biggest bit left of him was a finger. A finger.

Merlin, how he wished he could change time! Turn back and make things better, make it so Lily and James could raise their son, so Sirius didn't turn back to those he'd run from for so long, so little Peter never had to sacrifice himself for the rest of the Order.

But Remus could do none of those things. The best he could do was turn into a monster that killed people if he wasn't careful.

A small part of himself whispered that he shouldn't call himself a monster, but the calm voice, a voice which sounded too much like Lily's for him to listen to it right now, was drowned out by his sorrow and self-hatred.

Once again, Remus Lupin had lost everything.

Once again, he was alone.

Despair wracked his body, and he began to sob. It was minutes away from the full moon, and he was already in pain, but the tears were making it hard to see, making it hard to keep himself calm before the transformation. Remus knew that the wolf often exaggerated the feelings inside. The happier he was, the easier the wolf was to control. Today, he knew, was going to be the worst moon he had ever experienced.

But he deserved it, he thought. He deserved the pain and suffering and heartache and all of it. He deserved the injuries the wolf would inflict upon itself as it longed for freedom. He deserved everything.

Remus was a monster. He had been since he was a small child. He was a beast that had helped create the turn of events that had destroyed everyone that he held dear.

He was alone.

He was a monster.

And there was no way that this could ever get better.

As agony ripped through him, as every muscle in him changed and his mind was swept away, his last thought was that the next morning there would be no one to wrap his wounds and give him potions. There would be no one to bring him chocolate or make him feel better.

There would be no one.

He was alone again.

And it would stay that way.

Hey, Author here!

Hope you liked it... It's kind of sad...

Anyway, let me know what you thought in your reviews!

Don't give me too much hate!

Trellya