This is based off an idea my friend had, and we've worked it through together. It has original characters in it, but mostly for the plot and otherwise it's weighted fairly equally between the TW guys and the SPN brothers. She's pretty much feeding me the TW plot while I work with the SPN side of things.

It's an AU S3b, and runs alongside the last part of SPN from the end of s09e13 The Purge, although events in the episodes won't be written in explicitly, they might be mentioned or referenced, or they'll be an assumed time gap when they happen.

Otherwise enjoy, and comments are always welcome!

CHAPTER 1 - BLOOD MOON

It was dark at the crossroads.

His legs swing on the bench, a steady, slow rock back and forth.

Back and forth.

He stares sightlessly at the cheap gravel dirt road, not seeing the sign pointing four directions shake slightly in the breeze. His bare arms shiver with goose bumps, but he didn't appear to notice.

He blinks, lashes long and pretty. Too pretty. His hands fumble over each other uncomfortably, and he can hear his breath rasping in his throat.

Lights loom out of the dusk and he startles, and for a moment in the glare of the head lights his eyes shine brightly like yellow flares, and then with a quite rumple the car passes by, gravel crunching under the tyres.

His shoulders slump, and his breath rushes out in one large sigh. It catches though in a strangled sort of laugh, half-way to a sob and he chokes it down, one hand clawing valiantly at his eyes, pale blue blinking away salt.

On the bench besides him his phone buzzes, travelling centimetres across the surface with every vibration. It threatens to fall off the edge when it stops, screen going dark.

"Hey Lukey-boy!" a cheerful voice sounds fuzzy through the tiny speakers. "You showing your face tonight? I wanna' see you there, ya' hear me?" A beep and silence, and he's left alone again.

His fingers twitch to answer, but he curls his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. His shoulders are trembling, and his breathing erratic and it takes him several seconds longer than it should to realise that his eyes are damp again.

He swipes a hand over them angrily. He's not weak. He's not a freaking girl either, and he stands, pacing along the bench.

The phone vibrates again, and he pauses, staring with disinterest at the bus timetable.

"Luke? We're going to see you tonight, right? And that's not a question, we're going to see you there. You're not going to let that little… mishap with the surgery get you down, got it?"

Another voice chimes in cheerfully. "Love ya' Luke!"

"Lexi!" the first voice hisses, and there's the sound of mad scrambling and whispered insults and the voicemail ends.

He's smiling despite of himself, and he pulls himself together, taking a long shaking breath.

His gaze strays towards the centre of the crossroads where the gravel is scattered, and then re-piled over some small object.

He tears his gaze away, stiff, cold fingers curling over the phone as he picks it up, lights flickering in the distance signalling the arrival of the bus home.

He leaves behind the crossroads as dim as they first appeared, but with the faint and fading scent of sulphur dying on the breeze.

"Where've you been?" she asks sharply as he arrives home, cold fingers struggling with the key in the lock when the door opens for him, revealing her disapproving face and worried eyes.

She steps aside as he moves in, and as he brushes against her she stiffens.

"What have you been up to? You're freezing!" she chides, as he shuffles awkwardly for a moment in the entrance hall, and then makes for the stairs.

He passes pictures on the dresser, of a mother and father playing with a little girl on the beach, with his blonde hair and blue eyes but it's not him. It's not. The pictures change visibly. The father vanishes and the little girl with sparkling eyes becomes a cute boy with short spiky hair that looks like it was cut with kitchen scissors, muddy jeans and a lone woman, smiling sadly just out of shot.

"Lucy!" his mum calls as he bangs past, trailing dirt and dry leaves through the living room. "Lucy!"

Luke ignores her. It's not his name, but it's easier to ignore it than to argue. He pauses at the backdoor to kick of his shoes before stomping upstairs, shivering already abating as a waft of warm air from the radiator drifts towards him.

He grabs his headphone from his desk and turns the music up loudly, drowning out whatever his mum calls up to him. He boots up his laptop, plugging in his memory stick and loading up a piece of school work, a half-written essay that knowing his luck, is probably due in tomorrow.

It feels weird, sitting here doing something as trivial as homework.

Especially considering what he's just done. What is going to happen to him… He shudders and his fingers fly across the keys, losing himself for a moment in the beat of his music and the mindlessness of the words.

A cold breeze passes across his back and he shivers. With a sigh he pulls the headphones off, listening to the curtains flap in the open window. It's cold outside, late February and the air is bitter and almost holds the promise of snow if it wasn't for the fact that British weather never turned out that nice, that simple.

When he turns around however there's a shadow leaning besides the open window, a small lithe girl grinning cheekily at him. She's about seventeen or eighteen, and when Luke notices her she waves at him, reflexively running her one hand over her short, pixie cut hair, choppy blonde locks illuminated by the streetlamp outside.

Luke jumps to his feet. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snarls. His face twists, morphing, and he snarls again, fangs bared. His eyes flash gold and he feels the hair grow on his forehead. It feels the same as ever, uncomfortably, and prickly, but then it's gone, and he's settled and as calm as an adolescent werewolf can be.

The girl steps back in alarm, her own eyes gold. She almost falls out of the window, and Luke figures that she probably would have if not for a second head to pop up, shoving her sister back in.

"Clumsy Nate," the little girl smirks, clambering in.

"Who the hell invited you Lexi?" 'Nate' hisses at the younger girl. The pair glare at each other and in profile they have the same high cheek bone, and small nose. Nate's hair is short where her younger sister's is still long and flowing.

"I can go where I wanna'!" Lexi sounds like the petulant twelve year old stereotype at that moment, "Stop telling me what to do Nate!"

The older sister rolls her eyes, turning back to where Luke lets his shift fade, as he sighs in frustration at the pair. The two sisters are the only daughters of the pack alpha, and born to being wolves in the same way that he totally wasn't.

"Where the hell have you been?" Nate demands of him.

"What do you mean?" he asks, sitting and leaning back in his chair and eying them warily.

Lexi flops on his bed like a fish. "Well duh!" she makes a rude gesture at the calendar pinned to his wall, "It's the full moon dummy!"

"And why do you want me there so badly?" he asks, detached and not meeting any of their gazes.

Nate rolls her shoulder, "Everyone's there. And you're going to be there too."

He looks about to protest, and then reconsiders. Luke glances back at his laptop screen and then to Nate. "Is Jethro going to be there?" he asks.

She smiles smugly, but it's Lexi who answers, "Yes!" she squeaks excitedly. "And if you'd looked at your phone dumbass, and stopped acting like our technology incompetent German teacher then you'd know that too!"

"I don't speak German," Luke snaps, but he slams his laptop closed. "Fine. I'll be there."

Nate rolls her eyes. Luke ignores her. He's accustomed to her antics, and isn't in the mood for them tonight.

"Awesome!" Lexi chirps.

"Seriously?" Luke blinks at her, "What's with the annoying fly, Nate?" he asks his friend.

She shrugs at him while Lexi (or Alexa) glares. "Dad asked me to watch her. She's stuck to my tail for the whole evening while he gets things set up."

"Sounds fun," Luke grits out, grabbing a coat and shoes. "Look I'll be right out. Now go jump out my window before I shove you out."

"Aw," Nate grins, "We love you too Luke!"

He shoves her towards the window the window and makes for the door, not checking to see if he's succeeded in pushing her out or not.

He kind of hopes he did.

The forest backs the town, on a small hill that rises up and then drops away to a river. The clearing is somewhere along the drop, and when it's quiet in the summer you can hear the river running along the valley, peacefully trickling along its way. At the moment it runs full with rain water and melted ice, and it roars as it carves its way through the landscape.

The clearing is the usual location for pack meetings, and the trees around, huge old pines, are covered with scratching from many werewolf claws over the years. The place has long been written off as a cult camp, and so they get their peace, their sanctuary.

A huge bonfire is set up offset towards one side of the clearing. Around the rest logs are positioned to sit on, with blankets spread with food and drink. Luke spots an old man wrapped up in his cardigan, a scarf around his neck, slowly leafing through pages of his book. His eyes catch the light of the bonfire, flaring them gold.

Well… that would explain why he didn't need reading glasses.

Mothers congregate on the blankets, with small children making big gestures at each other, smiles plastered across their faces. Nearby some more teenagers with low trousers and hoodies that fall off their shoulders are being told off for smoking, the cigarettes being thrown on the bonfire.

Luke hesitates as he approaches the clearing, but Nate catches his arm and drags him forwards. He sees her father eye him warily, and he ducks his head in respect to his alpha.

The pack is old. The alpha rules by blood and respect and sometimes even a little fear. For most of them, it runs in the family lines, and that's where Luke is different.

He's a bitten. He's an outsider.

He's the stupid kid who got himself mauled by a crazy alpha and now has to push on through his life as a werewolf.

"Oh no," Nate sighs besides him, "Disaster in the making at three o'clock."

Luke follows her gaze. He sees Jethro almost immediately. The lanky dark haired brunette has hair so dark it almost looks black and brown eyes he is currently blinking in a manner he probably thinks is romantic at a long legged gorgeous dark skinned girl who is clearly way out of Jethro's league.

It doesn't stop him trying, and Luke pauses with a grin to admire his friend's valiant efforts at wooing her, while the girl turns away, disinterested, pulling a face at where her boyfriend lounges against a tree with a beer bottle in his hand.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Luke sees her mouth, and moments later a fake smile is plastered on her face as Jethro shifts around into her field of vision.

"Gotta' save him I guess," Nate casts him a glance, probably feeling like she's having a one sided conversation with herself, but Luke isn't quite there with her. Not tonight.

Not after what he just did.

The three of them move towards Jethro, and Luke sees relief in the girl's eyes as she spots them approaching, and she slips away with an excuse, patting Jethro on the back almost patronisingly.

Jethro gazes lovingly after her, and Luke feels the suspicious gazes from her boyfriend falling on both him and Jethro.

He's never been the favourite, a bitten werewolf in a pack of purebloods, but even then he's different from them, and they know it.

The alpha knows it to, which might explain why Luke keeps managing to piss him off. He tries not to, he swears, but nobody seems to believe him.

"Come on moron," Nate grabs Jethro's ear, twisting it, and he winces in mock pain.

"What are you doing… Nate… Nate!" he squeaks.

She lets go, perfectly innocent, "Someone's got to save you from yourself," she shrugs.

"But did you see her?" he articulates every syllable. "That was some hot piece of…" he yelps when Nate hits him. "Stop it! Oww…"

"Maybe you should try writing her poetry," Lexi shrugs.

He points a finger at her triumphantly, "That's a great idea! Brilliant! I… I can't poetry…" he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Should have paid more attention in English." Luke suggests, smirking.

"Psh," Jethro waves one hand dismissively. "Waste of time. I…" his gaze focusses suddenly, sharply on Luke, "Luke!" he exclaims, joyful. "You came!"

"Yeah," Luke offers up a weak smile, "Nate and Lexi dragged me here."

"What the hell dude! You weren't answering your phone! Your mum said you were out!"

He just shrugs, and he can feel Nate's frustration next to him. "Yeah, whatever," she shrugs at Jethro, "Good luck getting him to talk. Come on Lex. Let's go and see if Mum or Dad need help."

"But I want to…"

"Now."

Lexi trails obediently after her sister.

Luke examines the crushed grass under his shoes, trampled by many feet of those gathered in the clearing.

Jethro eyes him curiously, and in turn Luke is aware of others, staring openly at him and Jethro.

His friend is out of place here, even more so than he is.

Jethro's not a wolf.

Not that it's unusual, because the girl that he'd been chatting up earlier wasn't a wolf either, even if her boyfriend was. The old man sitting in the corner is a wolf, but out of his two children who are somewhere in this clearing only one of them is a wolf.

Jethro isn't a wolf. But he's something.

As if to show this his green eyes flash as he tilts his head considering at Luke. "You okay?" he asks.

There is a slightly circle around them where nobody dares venture. After all… no one really wants to interact with Luke the freak and Jethro the anomaly. Luke's always been different, and he's long learned to accept that he's in the wrong body, but Jethro, popular good looking, smart Jethro is still getting used to animosity from the weres. Lex and Nate trust him, but not even the weakest beta trusts the word of the alpha's twelve year old daughter or his rebellious teenage heir.

"I'm great," Luke lies with a smile.

Jethro is staring at him, with that look in his eyes which tips Luke off that he's trying his mind reading trick.

Luke's thoughts drift back to the dark crossroads almost unwillingly, and his claws extend, digging into his thigh. The flash of pain distracts him, and he blinks, staring back at Jethro who is still silently trying to assess him.

He wishes that he knew the hell Jethro was, but considering even Jethro himself doesn't, courtesy of foster parents it's a losing battle, but for now this will work just fine.

"Stop that!" Jethro grabs his hand, pulling it away from where his claws had buried into his thigh. "What the hell are you trying so badly to hide? It's got you all turned sideways man!"

"Stop that shit," Luke shoves him away, but like a wounded puppy Jethro moves back, "Stop it!" he growls, snapping slightly. His claws dig into his thighs once more and Jethro hisses, annoyed. It's hard enough for him to read werewolves as it is, due to their animal instincts and the call of the animal within them, but with Luke distracted it's going to be virtually impossible for him to get a reading on anything.

"Dude, you know we're totally here for you," he gestures, sounding totally heartfelt and Luke knows he means it. Jethro never says stuff like this if he doesn't mean it.

"I'm fine," he snaps, "No seriously… I don't need anything. I… I've found someone who can help."

He's not even lying.

"You always do this!" Jethro throws his hands up in disbelief, "You lock people out! How the hell am I mean to help if I don't know what goes on in that weird little brain of yours! You've gotta' stop running away, let people…" and then he stops, and his gaze goes distant.

Luke takes a moment to realise that this mile-long stare has come out of nowhere. His friend shivers, and green veins run up Jethro's neck, raising the skin slightly as they travel up his flushed skin and creeping along to his eyes where they disappear. It's been a while since this has happened, but it's not unusual for Jethro, the unknown supernatural monster.

"Dude are you okay?" he asks, because usually Jethro will snap out of it by now. If anything his gaze grows more distant, out of focus and Luke waves one hand in front of his friend's face, startled when there is no reaction. "Jethro!" he growls.

Jethro is shivering now, but it's not cold out, so close to the bonfire and in the mingling of bodies. His pupils are dilated and Luke leans closer. "Are you… are you scared?" Luke frowns. Jethro starts, focussing of Luke and blinking, shaking his head like a wet dog.

"It feels like someone just walked over my damn grave," Jethro muttered, exchanging a puzzled, but wary glance at Luke. "You…" he stops, and then starts again, "What did you do? Luke what did you do?"

Luke steps back, shaking his head and spotting Nate and Lexi walking back over to them, makes as if to move towards him. Jethro grabs his upper arm, stopping him, but Luke keeps his gaze straight forwards at where the girls are smiling and laughing.

That's when the bonfire goes out. It flares suddenly, and then dies in a huge whoosh that billows out hot air at them, and all conversation and activities stop as several dozen pairs of glowing eyes snap to the smoking pile of timber. It's like a blown candle, dying suddenly and expectantly and Luke watches the alpha step with a confused frown towards where smoke curls around the wood pile.

It twists through the air, curling and obscuring the bonfire. It hangs thick and heavy in the air, and Luke feels it catching in his throat. Next to him Jethro drops his arm like it's a burning brand, stepping back, nostrils flaring.

The clearing is dim with the night and smoke, and even Luke's wolf eyes can't pierce the choking veil. Their voices are confused, a dim hush of whispers as a breeze rustles the trees, and a shape moves into view.

Luke's skin crawls when he sees her, and he knows she isn't human. She is beautiful, a woman with pale skin, like alabaster, carved out of marble.

The werewolves edge closer, warily forming a circle around the still warm bonfire. The woman's feet are bare, and her dress is flowing and black that mingles with the smoke, spinning around until it's hard to tell where the smoke begins and ends, blanketing her pale skin like a shroud.

Everything about her is beautiful. And everything about her is wrong. She cuts a sharp figure, from the cut of her dress to the crimson, painted smile on her lips. There's a wail from one of the young children, and the mother hushes her child, gold eyes flashing and teeth bared into a snarl.

And her eyes…

Dear God her eyes…

Her eyes are pitch black, hollow and empty and like a void full of darkness and mirth.

"Who are you?!" the alpha snarls, stepping forwards, and he's fully wolf, eyes red and fangs bared. "You're not welcome here…" his voice drops. "Leave now."

"Who… who am I?" she laughs. Her voice is like ice, or the driving snow, but soft and dangerous, like poison drips off her every word. Her lips curl into a smile, but it's not nice or pretty. For a moment she flutters her eye lashes, brushing an invisible speck of dust of the back of one hand, and as her gaze lowers, eye half-lidded, between one blink and another her eyes are normal, a soft gentle hazel.

It's dangerous, and behind his Luke is aware of Jethro shuddering, muttering and gnashing his teeth together.

"It's wrong…" Luke can hear his friend whispers, "She's wrong, she's dark, sounds like darkness, utter blackness, no hope, no light, wrong, dark…" he keeps going, over and over and over again, like an endless loop, barely pausing for breath.

"I am Legion," the woman tells the alpha mocking, "For we are many."

With a snarl the alpha steps forwards, but she is gone, smoke drifting past where she was. He spins around eyes wide.

The scent of sulphur hits Luke first, and then she steps out of nothing in front of him. Her form flickers slightly like a bad projection before solidifying right in front of him.

Luke freezes, all his movements ceasing. Nate stumbles away from him, towards the edge of the clearing, shoving Lexi and a shivering Jethro behind her. Her tiny form isn't much protection, even if her eyes do flash gold. Where Jethro mutters his own eyes are dancing from his normal brown to a burning green and back again, like a laser show. He doesn't even appear to be aware of where he is anymore.

Luke starts when she moves for him, reaching out and grabbing his chin, suddenly unable to move away as she steps forwards.

The rest of the pack snarl, because even if Luke's the freak, he's still one of their own, their pack, but their snarls turn to yelps of surprise when they can't move. Their legs must feel like his, locked up and stuck in glue.

She leans in close, and he can smell her breath across his face, feel its warmth, but it's cloying and stinks of rotten egg.

Her hands dig into his chin, tilting his head to one side as she considers him, her tongue clicking. "Have you changed you mind, little puppy?" her voice is bordering on sultry, despite the mocking nickname, yet it feels like shattered glass across his skin. "It's not too late to change your mind," she adds, but the corner of her lips curl.

The woman's heart beat doesn't change, but Luke knows she is lying. It's too late.

Far, far too late.

"Who are you?!" Nate screams, over from where she can't move, along with the rest of the pack.

The woman laughs, and it sounds like grating ice. She drops Luke's chin, flicking her wrist at Nate and the girl drops to her knees, still speaking but no words come out.

"It's been a while," she says, turning away from Luke, "A long, long time since I've been topside, but now I am..?" shadows dance across her eyes, "Well… a girl has her hobbies!"

"What?" Luke snarls, and he feels his nails morph into claws, "You promised! You can't just… threaten me, and then leave without holding up your end!" he takes an angry step after her and almost immediately finds that he made a mistake when a hand closes around his throat.

He coughs, clawing at her hand, and blinking, and then suddenly they're in the centre of the fire and heat, and her eyes are black again, but with the fire reflected in them her gaze looks as if it is burning with hell fire.

"Insolent wretch," she sneers, lips curling into an ugly scowl. "Watch your tone and be grateful, that I took the time to answer your pitiful plea." Her head tilts to one side, eyes normal once more, "After all… not even a lowlife crossroads demon wanted to deal with the likes of you. Just be thankful…" and she's got his pinned with one hand, and now the other traces his collar bone with one nail. She looks up at him from under her lashes, the sneer dropping into a gentle smile. "Just be thankful that I see the benefits. Long term."

He kicks out at her, and even though it hits she doesn't move, a rock holding him. He feels the heat burning around him, and not for the first time he wishes he could burn, but he knows that he'd just heal too fast…

(He knows it's not really alight, and it's all in his mind, in the burnt smell and her brimstone eyes but he feels it all the same…)

Because now he knows he will burn for all eternity and he will never heal… it will be his penance.

"Stop acting like a child," she hisses, "You should learn your place mutt."

His feet find purchase on the ground and it's just as well, because her grip around his neck relaxes for an instant, slipping instead to his collar and her long fingers tighten, dragging him forwards.

"After all." She whispers, "Every deal needs to be sealed with a kiss." And he snarls, but it's useless, futile as she pressed her lips to his.

She tastes like sulphur and dead rotting meat and he wants to be sick, to draw back, but she doesn't let him. His hands press against her and eventually she relents, stepping away from him with a leer, hand uncoiling from his collar and he flails, balance gone and he drops to the ground like a doll, heaving for breath.

The demon turns away, brushing her hands together as if she had touched something disgusting. She rolls her neck, feeling the pulse of a living body for the first time in centuries and a grin found its way onto her face.

So many new toys to play with, she mused, examining the snarling pack.

This was going to be so, much, fun.

With a snarl the wolves snap off her power as it weakens, but she doesn't worry. She lets them throw themselves at her eyes flicking to one side and the first hapless beta with raging blue eyes is tossed aside with a howl.

The next one follows, and then another snarling yellow-eyed beta, and she grins as his body flies through the thick pine branches of the forest. His snarling ends in a sharp yelp and he hangs suspended onto the broken branch, a wooden stake piercing his heart. Blood pours from his throat, and she wonders whether he'll yet claw his way back from that.

"Werewolves are surprisingly, almost annoyingly resilient," she steps lightly off the bonfire, right hand clenching into a fist. A beta who had made an abortive move towards her, claws and fangs visible drops, choking and clutching his throat, sucking at the air like a drowning man, but finding none. He claws at his throat, his own nails tearing through the flesh, mouth opening and closing like a beached fish gasping for breath.

She tosses two more back with barely a thought, relaxing slightly as her eyes slide back to black. Around the edge of the clearing a few try to flee, but they encounter smooth walls, like an invisible force field, trapping them here.

She doesn't want to waste her toys.

A wolf makes a swipe at her ribs, but the beta female's hand passes through the body like water, and smoke shimmers as if the demon isn't even there. The werewolf freezes, alarmed, and the demon shoves her gently aside, her fingers trailing for too long on the open neck.

The girl doubles over, vomiting, retching and crying as her insides try to claw their way up her throat. Behind her another person, this time not a wolf, just an ordinary human drops as well, screaming and thrashing but no sound emerges.

"I can suffocate you, choke you, stab you and yet you still come crawling back, tails between your legs," the demon sounds almost wonder struck as her left hand curls up. "It's brilliant," she breathes, looking around. Her fingers stretch, and then squeeze into a fist. As she does a nearby wolf howls, the moon above him whole and full as cuts mangle his body, healing almost instantly before more take their place.

He falls to his knees, as if in a twisted mockery of worship and again and again his arteries cry blood, like a hundred claws or knives stabbing into him. His hand clench into fists, not even noticing his own claws curling around into his palms.

"Didn't they teach you anything?" she asks, mockingly as she crouches down next to the werewolf. Taking advantage of her turned back an older wolf lunges for her spine, but before he gets within a metre of her he doubles over, screaming. Fire eats its way out of his belly, and flares up, and his skin wrinkles and blackens.

From the inside out the fire consumes him, orange burning inside him as the outside chars and burns, growing darker and darker and crumbling. His fingers fall from their joints and his eyes which had been squeezed shut fly open, but they are hollow. The blood that leaks from them like tears dries instantly, evaporating into a red mist as his body collapses into smouldering hot ashes.

The demon glances casually over her shoulder, and then shrugs, turning back to the bloodied wolf in front of her. "Tonight… well… some call it a hunter's moon." One finger trails seductively down his chest towards his groin. "And others…" her hand stops, and then moves upwards before she shoves it forwards, digging in under his chest bone, and he coughs, blood dribbling out of his mouth and bubbling down his chin. "Others call it a blood moon," and with a crack she pulls back, ripping out his still beating heart. His body falls away and she holds it in front of her, considering. With her other hand she dabs at it, licking the finger. "Hm," she considers it, "Tastes like dog." And then stands, tossing the heart aside.

She turns around, finding herself face to face with the alpha. Behind her smoke still drifts down from the bonfire where her new pet's still form lies slumped. Nate is still standing defensively in front of Lexi and Jethro, the latter still shuddering and mumbling, not really there.

The alpha isn't as young as he used to be, but he's just as powerful, and his eyes flash threateningly as he takes his stand in front of his daughters. "You monster!" the alpha snarls, his eyes red. Nate is silently sobbing, and behind her Lexi whimpers. Other wolves circle her, teeth bared in fear and anger. Around them the humans scream, scrabbling at the invisible dome around the clearing, and a child wails in despair.

She loves that, the scent of fear in the air. For a moment she revels in it, even as she smiles charmingly at the alpha.

"You going to begrudge a girl some down time?" she asks, pursing her lips. "And here I was having so much fun!" she shakes her head in disappointment.

Luke wakes behinds her on the still warm bonfire with a dry sob. He sits up, hands scrambling through the ashes and he tries to move.

He stands, his hands pressed against the air. It feels like glass, thick and he can't pass beyond it. His gaze falls beyond to the dead bodies, to the demon, to the terrified masses in the clearing and the woman who holds them trapped, like toys for her pleasure to be used and then thrown away.

"You monster!" Nate screams, and Luke tries to breathe, tries to hold into rising panic as the woman paces towards her friend.

With a snarl the alpha leaps forwards and the woman reaches out, and the wolf freezes, hanging in mid-air as if caught in an invisible web.

"Dad!" Nate shoves Lexi towards the edge of the trees, towards a still babbling Jethro. She only makes it a few steps forwards before the woman's eyes turn to her, and the black has seeped out leaving an almost normal brown, but it's equally cruel, if not worse because she could be a normal human, if not for the blood on her hands and the brimstone clinging to her soul.

"Going to be the hero were you?" the demon says, "I don't think so sweetheart." And she steps sharply towards where her dad is still suspended in the air, hand curling until her fingers are almost like claws.

She digs them in, and then rips back. She doesn't pull out the heart this time, she just reaches in again and tears the skin, and the alpha's red eyes roll up as the telekinetic hold on him drops, and his body, a bloody mess, drops broken to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"No!" Nate screams, and Luke is sobbing, heaving breaths, his head shaking because he hadn't intended for this… he hadn't wanted for Nate to be stuck there, forced to watch her dad die right in front of her.

The demon turns to the next wolf, ripping the snarling jaws from the head. Blood stains her skin, the pure snow white smeared bloody with the thick viscous liquid that dries quickly, caking into a brown colour that looks almost like rust.

"Run!" Luke calls, "Please… just run… Nate run!"

The demon looks with sick pity at where her little toy is trapped. "You hear that?" she turns to Nate, pacing forwards, picking her way over the body on the ground as if it's a red carpet rolled out just for her. "He wants you to run. Little mutt wants his bitch to run away with her tail between her legs."

She laughs, stopping in front of where Nate stands frozen, and her long pianist fingers reach out, trailing through Nate's hair as if brushing aside the strands.

Then the grip grows cruel, twisting and pulling and digging in until Nate cries out in pain. "Where you gonna' run to?" the demon whispers in one ear, forcing Nate's head to turn, surveying the wreckage, the still trapped wolves and the already dead and dying.

With a snarl, Nate's mother darts towards them from the side, towards her daughter and the demon. The woman drops Nate to the side turning to snap the werewolf's neck mid-leap, the body being thrown aside out of the way without a thought.

Nate falls in the dirt, and there is something wet beneath her. She pushes herself up, spotting her hands in the glow of the moon, and they are red and sticky. She sucks in a breath, looking away, but then all she can see is the demon, smiling sickly sweet as she licks away a trail of blood along a young boy's neck. He can't be older than five, and he stares up at her with wide eyes, not fully understanding everything, but at the same time having the horrible knowledge that something was really, really wrong.

"So pretty," she whispers to the boy, tongue trailing along his ear.

He flinches away, whimpering like a puppy, "I want my mummy," he tries to push her away but her grip tightens, and her soft gaze grows malicious and the one hand thumbing the boy's cheek digs in, sinking in under the eyes and pushing down.

Nate gasps, shoving herself backwards along the grass, her hands bloody, and blood leaking from the child's eyes as the demon rips her thumbs into the sockets, ignoring his wailing sob and continuing to dig in and dig in. Then with a triumphant laugh she rips her hands out, tearing out the eyes with unnatural strength. The child's wail cuts off.

For a moment she sees the child standing there, ugly red holes where his eyes should be, and she screams.

Behind her Jethro lurches and snaps out of his daze with a start. Next to him Lexi slips aside, curled up into a ball and trying not to listen to the cries. Now she starts as Jethro moves away from her, her eyes tightly closed and hands over her ears as if it might block out the screams.

"Leave her alone!" Jethro staggers towards where Nate thrashes in the ground, trying to get the blood off her hands. It sticks to her skin, hot and heavy and it stinks. It's like rust and copper but even that can't hide the fact it is blood, and her hands are covered in blood… She wipes it with her right hand, but that only succeeds in smearing more all over her.

She tries to breath but all she can taste is blood. Footsteps vibrate through the earth as Jethro stops in front of her, shoulders quaking as the demon turns towards him, head cocked almost disinterested at his appearance.

"What… who are you!?" he shouts, voice weak and horribly human, "Why are you doing this?"

The demon sighs, stepping almost regretfully forwards. "Oh sweetie. Like a poor little boy like you could even begin to understand..."

"Try me," and Jethro steps forwards, and in reaction the demon waves a hand, as if swatting him aside. The power catches Jethro like a giant bat, flinging him sideways towards the edge of the clearing. He hits a tree trunk hard, head snapping to one side and he crumples, eyes closed.

Nate feels like her world has stopped and her sister scrambles over to Jethro, desperately trying to not look at the clearing. Lexi crouches besides Jethro, reassured by the rise and fall of his chest and she casts a hopeless glance at her sister who, as if renewed by that, snaps her head around to the demon.

"Well?" Nate snarls, eyes golden, but with a blink they're almost orange, as if she doesn't know yet if she's an alpha or not. "Going to kill us too?" and she's brave than she has any right to be. "Finish the job!" she cries out, spreading out her blood-stained hands where she kneels before the demon.

The woman laughs, "I would, sweetie, but a deal's a deal." The demon turns away, dress fluttering in the breeze. Nate scrambles upwards, ignoring the next strangled howl as another snarling wolf dies.

She makes her way towards the tree under which Lexi sits beside Jethro, dabbing at the cut on his forehead with hesitation, not sure what to do. Unsteadily Nate drops down beside her sister, and she gathers the younger girl to her, until she can feel Lexi's reassuring heartbeat next to her own.

They try not to listen to the howls as the remaining members of the pack die. Even the old wolves, the powerful ones, they're overpowered so easily it's almost pitiful.

She rips through them with a grin and a laugh and blackness in her eyes. Her smile is sickly sweet, and yet whatever façade she had maintained however briefly was gone, lost in a blood crazed whirlwind of fury.

"It's been too long," she chuckles as if confiding in her victims, hand tightening around one teenager's neck until she can rip the throat out with one clean pull. "I mean… Hell is nice and all… but this... The best torturers don't get their hands dirty," she flicks a lump of flesh from her fingers carelessly. "But I think I've kind of missed this. The feel of blood on my skin. The screams." She leans down to a crying girl, the same one Jethro had been chatting up earlier, "The crack of their bones under my hands…" and blood stained fingers grip and grip and grip and even though Luke closes his eyes, he can still hear the snap.

Everyone dies. She doesn't spare the children, or the adults, or even the non-werewolves who cower in fear. Some run, and she reaches out and drags them back with invisible fingers, and they claw at the dirt leaving furrows in the soil and broken nails before she deposits them before her and snaps their ribs one by one, smiling each time they scream or beg.

The foolish spit insults at her, and they cry out as their skin dissolves from their flesh, leaving behind muscles and organs all exposed to the open air and she takes her time before ripping one out, beginning a dissection on the still living, still screaming mother.

Her eyes are Hell pit black, and she wonders, as she rips apart a rip cavity, whether this was why Alistair and his dark little apprentice had loved to torture so much. There was a certain joy to watching them all be reduced to this.

Where the sisters crouched, Nate pulls Lexi close to her, her sister's head in her chest. Lexi was sobbing, but the tears no longer come to Nate over the shock and horror.

Jethro suddenly sits straight upright. She flinches back, standing and he smells like blood (everything smells like blood… it's never going to go away…) but he smells like fire and bronze and sand overlaid over the metallic tang. Somewhere a child dies with a scream and Nate pulls back, away from Jethro and his glowing green eyes, pupil, sclera and iris all a bright, almost iridescent green. Under his skin green veins run, sparking like electricity along his neck and arms and face.

"Jethro?" she whispers, not recognising her friend. He doesn't look at her, just stands mechanically upright like a sleepwalker.

He stares towards the far end of the clearing, focussing on the demon as if he can kill her with his eyes alone. He looks like a predator, as he begins moving towards her, determined and his gaze levelled on where the woman is revelling in the bloodshed and gore.

Nate doesn't recognise the determination in her friend. She doesn't recognise the green that dances beneath his skin or from his eyes. It's like someone has flicked a switch and he's sprung to life, wired and ready and with only one thing in mind.

The demon is going to pay.

The woman has paused, looking around smirking in triumph at the slaughtered pack, blood mixing with ashes in the soil. Then she looks to the full moon, hanging in the sky. "Oh it's good to be back," she whispers, and a snarl echoes through the clearing.

She glances over her shoulder, eyes widening at where Jethro is stalking towards her, his eyes glowing green and his teeth bared, normal and human if not for the green veins creeping up his neck.

"Well, well," she steps back, "What do we have here…?"

His gaze snaps to her and he launches himself at her, form beginning to blur and the demon's eyes flash black in startled surprise, clearly slightly taken aback, maybe even frightened. She vanishes, and then reappears next to where Luke is sobbing on the dead pyre, trembling with anguish.

"It was your deal kiddo," she scoops him up, and he flinches from the feeling of blood on his skin. "Time to go."

She glanced up once as Jethro leaps towards her, "Thanks for the fun!" she calls, vanishing.

Jethro freezes, first from the sudden change in direction, and then from her sudden teleportation. He flails for a moment panicked, and his eyes are full out glowing now, Nate notices. She grabs Lexi, who shudders close to her, breaking into a run not towards where Jethro now stands, but towards the place he is going to be, acting on instincts that she didn't know she possessed. Sure enough Jethro readjusts his course for the bonfire, limbs sleek and smooth and dangerous.

Nate thinks she should be running in the opposite direction.

The demon is gone, and Jethro's gaze pierces through the place she had last stood, as if seeing through space to where she now was. He is glowing now, like a lightbulb, and stalking like a man possessed towards where Luke last stood, the demon too, and Nate is full out running with Lexi to get there in time.

His steps are smooth and measured and she skids, almost tripping over a dead body. She chokes down bile and throws herself the last few steps as Jethro stops, green light coating his figure like a cloak. With one hand she grabs the back of his jacket, and the other still grips onto Lexi's cold fingers. For a moment her grip slides, slick with blood, but she tightens her hold, just as Jethro's image lurches, flickers, and then full out vanishes in a flash of light.

It wraps around her like cling film, choking and bright and hot and then she can't breathe and the world is swept out from under her, but she keeps a hold of her sister and her friend, and prays.

Someone help.

Please.

In their wake the massacred pack lies, bodies mangled and torn with blood staining the ground and the dead bonfire still smouldering, smoke curling in the air.

A blood moon hangs in the air.