3. Quil & his transformation (tough times), the beach, Forks
If you're going through hell, keep going. –Winston Churchill
The sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The small, cold, wet pebbles raking against him, cooling his feverish skin. The biting wind, whistling, drowning out the sounds of his whimpering.
He lay on the beach, curled into the fetal position, on his side. His senses were heightened, his skin was hot to the touch, and he felt completely and utterly alone.
His clothes were scattered, in shreds, around him. He briefly wondered how he'd get back home without flashing half of the Olympic Peninsula, when he heard the pebbles crunching.
The newcomer smelled like an older brother. Like someone he could trust, should trust – must trust.
He opened his eyes and the reality that he knew crashed down around him, shattered into a million slivers of illuminated glass. The same person who ruined his life was crouching down, holding out a hand to him.
He wanted to yell at the man, curse him, throw every imaginable accusation at him – but suddenly, all he could emit from his throat was a feral growl. He couldn't move before, but he suddenly found himself on all fours, in a crouch, facing the man with bared teeth.
And abruptly, the man disappeared. In his place stood a coal-black wolf of immense size. Its paws were large, its shoulder breadth was wide, and it stared at him with what could only be described as calm authority.
Do you understand now?
He started, and then snarled. The black wolf didn't do anything—he just stood there.
They didn't abandon you. They had no choice.
The snarl turned into a rumbling growl. He bared his teeth again, only to realize that his mouth was full of sharp, pointy incisors. He shut his mouth with an audible click, and then stealthily ran his rough tongue over the inside of his jaw.
He whimpered as the realization hit him, hard. He stumbled backwards, horror and helplessness showing in his eyes. He gazed at the black wolf, pleading wordlessly.
Welcome to the pack.
He let out an almighty howl of pain; it transcended the woods and rose with the mists from the mountains. He continued to howl, all through transforming back into his human form; he found himself sobbing into his knees, arms over his head. A large paw-like hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the man, who he now knew to be the black wolf, holding out a change of clothing with immeasurable pain in his eyes.
The same man, who had stolen his friends and left him drifting, was now his brother.
His friend.
His leader.
"Why the fuck are you taking me to Forks?"
Silence.
"Answer me, goddamnit!"
"Because I can get you drunk without the whole rez knowing about it."
"Oh." More silence. "Then how the fuck do you expect to sneak me into my house without my mom noticing?"
"You'll sleep over at Jacobs' house. Billy won't mind."
"Won't he be suspicious?"
"He knows."
"How does he kno—"
"He turned before you."
"FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC." Sarcastic. "Are you supplying the fucking nail polish, too?"
A glimmer of a smirk. "If you insist."
Grumble.
More silence.
"So, Sam, wha-"
"Wait for the alcohol, Quil."
"Right. So you can come up with slick answers?"
Brakes squealing. "WHAT THE FU-"
"CAN YOU STOP CURSING FOR ONE MINUTE?!"
Silence.
"Sorry." Low, gritty.
"I need to think about the answers, Quil. I never planned this, you know. It came as a surprise to me as much as it did to you."
"You had Jacob to practice on, didn't you? You need another try?"
Silence, awkward this time.
A sharp intake of breath. "Who else?"
"Embry. And Jared."
"Holy sh- I mean, holy mackerel! How long ago?"
"Jacob was a couple of weeks ago, Embry was about three weeks ago and Jared was a month ago." Pause. "I was two weeks before him." The smooth asphalt rolling under the large wheels of the truck.
Sigh. "Jesus."
"Explaining it is the harde-"
"Well, you've had three to practice on before me, it shouldn't be so hard." Bitter.
"There's no guide for this kind of thing, Ateara. I don't even know what the fuck to do with the situation, and I'm supposed to be the one who knows because-"
"You were first, I get it."
Tense silence.
"No? You weren't first?"
"I was. That's not the point." Controlled. "I'm alpha, Quil."
"Whaaaa...?"
"My response exactly."
Silence.
"So, you're buying, right?" Hopeful.
An arched eyebrow. "Obviously. I'm of age."
"Good. Because I have a feeling that these explanations will require lots of hard liquor."
FIN.
A/N: I'd like to thank my dear BETA, darklyromantic AKA Claire, who saved you all from crappy crappiness. Claire, your insight is golden. Thanks a bunch, sweets! =]
If someone is reading this and wondering why it wasn't posted on LJ yet, it's because I have a major ass test tomorrow and only seven hours to sleep. If you have no idea what I mean by 'posted on LJ', go to blackpack(dot)livejournal(dot)com, home of those who love La Push and every muscled chest in it. Apropos muscled chest... that's the main feature on the homepage of this fantastic comm, so it's NWS. Hehe. =]
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