He managed to hold out until Sunday. When Lucy asked him if he was up to going into the Animus, he'd told her no and burrowed back into his sleeping bag. He could almost hear Shaun sneering at him and almost see Rebecca's disappointed shrug, but they didn't matter. He'd made it to Sunday.

At first it was just the itching under his skin, like it had been since Thursday. He finally relaxed into it, and in the hidden safety of his sleeping bag let his dull nails drag over his biceps again and again. After a while, the itch grew into the worms-wriggling-under-his-skin feeling, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to keep the worms from getting out too soon. He could hear his feet twitching as the sensation grew more intense.

Next came the ringing in his ears, but he kept his hands alternating between rubbing his eyes and scratching grooves in his arms. Covering his ears would only make it worse; louder and higher pitched. The ringing didn't last long and instead replaced itself with a buzzing hiss that was almost like static. He was probably squirming a little by now, though he couldn't see himself in the sleeping bag.

A little longer and the twisting would turn into the shakes. This was always the part that made him worry about getting caught. He grit and gnashed his teeth, feeling the urge to bite down in flesh fill him, the memory of sweat and blood heavy on his tongue. He bit into the lining of the sleeping bag but it wasn't enough, not nearly.

The shakes were probably bad by this point, and he could feel his throat working and his tongue forming sounds around the liner and the memory of blood. The buzz-hissing and the worm-wriggling were still intensely rippling through his body, and he could almost feel his fingers clawing at the sleeping bag surrounding him. He spared a thought to hope that the others thought he was having a nightmare.

Shaun was the obvious target. He said he'd killed before, but he was obviously not a hand-to-hand fighter like the girls, and it would probably take far less time to bring him down and rip him open. The girls would try to kill him for it of course, or at least stop him, but they couldn't. He'd take them hard and fast while they were still gaping and tear their throats out. Shaun would still be alive enough to scream when Desmond turned back to him.

He would tear the corpse apart and gulp down what he could. The rest would be mutilated, easier to scatter the evidence, or he'd have to guard it constantly. And he didn't want a reason to stick around after.

"Desmond? Desmond, you need to wake up."

Someone was shaking him, going for his shoulder and ending up shoving his head. He snarled and turned it into a snort. He pulled the sleeping bag back a bit and looked up at Lucy who looked and smelt so worried that he nearly couldn't help but bare his teeth at her. Quickly regaining control, he turned his near-grimace into the preface of a yawn.

"Hey, wha's up? 'S it Mond'y already?" He slurred, trying to keep his mouth mostly closed to cover his pointed teeth. Lucy smiled at him, soft and sad, and he wanted to reach up and rip her face open.

"No, it's still Sunday. You just sounded like you were having a nightmare. Sorry I had to wake you." Lucy apologized, and Desmond rubbed his eye with a fist clenched to hide his inhuman nails.

"'Kay. Guess 'll go back ta sleep thun. Night, Luce. Thanks fer wakin' me." He slurred, wishing that he felt tired in the least.

His head ducked safely back into his sleeping bag and he ignored Lucy's departure, focused on trying to turn his legs back to human ones before he went too far and his knees reversed. Explaining the sets of loud popping noises would be harder than it would be worth. He really didn't want to have to kill them.

It'd been so long since he could do more than repress the change until he could hide out in a sleeping bag; a month since Abstergo picked him up, and a while before that since his last time. His thoughts weren't normally so vicious, or the changes so intensely painful. He missed the freedom that had come with the change, how it used to feel natural and easy. Now it was a nightmare.

Now a monster was trying to escape from under his skin. And he was getting desperately close to letting it.