Title: haven't i always been there

Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue

Warning: Spoilers for "Mother's Day"; slashy stuff; language

Notes: 2nd POV

Notes2: If you haven't seen "Mother's Day" you need to. Right now. Don't even read this fic - just open a new tab and go watch this movie (the 2010 one). Warren Kole is amazing and wonderful and I love him.

Your name hasn't always been Wesley Mitchell.

-x-

Addley Koffin died with a knife in his stomach and plastic over his face. And, as the home around him burned and fell to ashes, you were born.

Covered in blood and fire, you crawled away into the darkness and let the moon heal your wounds. And oh, she did more than just heal your body. Mother Moon took you and loved you and gave you everything she gave to her firstborn 'wolves.

-x-

Your name hasn't always been Wesley Mitchell.

And you haven't always such a nice guy.

Which is why when Travis pushes and pushes and pushes – you have to close your eyes and lock your gun away. Because even though Mama was half a world away, you could still hear her whispers.

Don't you dare let them laugh at you – keep quiet and laugh loud and when they least expect it, rip their fuckin' throats out.

But then Travis is smiling and touching. And you're backing him against the wall and grinding your hips together and you're lost in Travis' scent and voice and body.

-x-

It's been almost five years when the doctor finds you.

Well, more like stumbled. You and Travis were at the bar and the doctor and his new wife walk in and he sits next to you. But he doesn't see you until he goes to look at the bartender and you watch the blood drain away from his face.

And then he's screaming. He falls off his stool, taking the woman and a few others down with him as he trips over himself in his scramble for the door.

And before you can even think, you're chasing after him. You're running him down with Travis at your heels.

You grab the doctor's collar and jerk him back and your fists are flying – using every bit of strength the moonlight gave you. And everything you had tried to stomp down had roared back to life. Addley was back and demanding blood and just on the horizon, the moon was singing.

And, as the doctor wept on the sidewalk, your fists became claws and your fangs grew and somewhere in the background you heard Travis stumble-stop behind you.

But you were Addley again.

And Addley didn't know Travis.

All Addley knew was the doctor and scent of the doctor's blood and how much he wanted that blood on his tongue, how much he wanted that blood to flood the streets.

So Addley ripped and shredded and howled to Mama Moon as he painted the alley walls black-red.

-x-

When Addley finally recedes back to the shadows of your mind and you are Wes again, you find yourself back at the hotel.

And Travis is there, fast asleep on the couch.

You brush a hand over his cheek, softly whisper his name.

And then Travis looks at you and he smiles his all-knowing smile and puts a hand to the back of your neck, bringing you down for a soft kiss.

"It's good to see you, Wes," he says.

And you huff a laugh against his lips.

"I'm sorry for last night," you say.

Travis shrugs away your apology and neither of you talk about the man who was ripped to shreds.

-x-

No, you're name hasn't always been Wesley Mitchell.

And no, you haven't always been a nice guy.

End