I am Lars.

I am human.

I am wolf.

I am Lars van Dijk.

The words circled in his head as he continued to hit his head on the back of the chair, eyes closed as he did so. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his body had grown thin and lean. There wasn't a trace of baby fat on his thin face. To add to the terrible features, there were bleeding scars and cuts all over him. They would heal and leave no scar, but the pain that numbly beat its way through his skin and into his nerves.

"Lars, you need to stop running from us. You're still young, and you could easily bite a human and cause us to lose our cover." Gilbert was firm with his words, sitting at his desk. The Dutch youth still continued to hit his head on the back of the chair, annoying the Prussian man until he gave word to Ludwig to place his hand between Lars's head and the chair to make him stop. "Why did you go all the way to Oslo this time? There's nothing there for you."

"I wanted to go and see Norway. A hitchhiking teenager doesn't raise any red flags, so I decided to go and get my way there." Lars said lowly, opening one lazy eye as he tugged at the silver-alloy handcuffs. They burnt his wrists and made the flesh sting. "The moon doesn't bother me much at all. I was okay until you sent Daniel to get me." The time was 1920. The war had been over for one year, and even with the wealth of the Vogel clan of wolves, finances were slipping. Mostly undetected under the war radar, they had been scathed by the war's crippling effects. "Is it a crime to want to get out every once in a while and see people that you miss?"

"Oh? You were visiting friends? How cute..." Gilbert tilted his head to the side, propping his feet up on his desk as he lit a cigarette. He had gotten a pack when he went out, and he was happy to pay through the nose to get them. "Maybe I should send a gift to your friends. Tell them you can't go see them anymore. You're basically grounded anyways." As Gilbert inhaled, the tip of the paper had just started to burn with light embers. When the tobacco inside had caught fire, he quickly exhaled, blowing a billowing cloud of bitter smoke. "...Do you have anything to say, Lars?"

"Just a few things." Lars responded, curling his lip up to reveal a row of sharper teeth. "Fuck you, being one of them."

"I've heard enough. I should send you back to Annaleise so she can teach you a few manners with Daniel. I don't understand why you're so...misbehaving. I could also let Ludwig teach you a few tricks and manners, boy. You're only eighteen still, and you're going to be that way for a long time. Your ageing has slowed considerably, and we'll just have to keep you for that much longer." Gilbert took another long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Lars's face. He seemed pleased with the fact that the Dutch youth had started to cough and sputter, shaking his head to disperse the bitter smoke. "So...we'll get you all trained up..." He said with a smirk, motioning for Ludwig to drag the chair away. "We'll let Ludwig start with you first. That'll be good experience for both of you, won't it?"

"Ja, I'm looking forward to learning more about young ones like Lars...he's quite interesting if you ask me. He wasn't wild for too long at all. Usually it takes one and a half years to get normal thoughts back." Ludwig noted, tipping the chair back as to be able to slide it along without the risk of pushing the chair forward and having Lars hurt himself. "What do you have to say about that?"

"I'm overjoyed." Lars replied, digging his nails into the chair. It had been another hair-brained scheme of his, but this time, Lars was digging at the soft wood in order to make a gap so he could slide the bottom end of the cuffs through. It was working the whole time Ludwig dragged him down the hall and into one of the rooms...until he ran into something that wasn't quite wood.

"You thought we'd give you just a plain chair? We're not as ignorant of your ideas as you think we are." Stopping in one room and shutting the door, the lights were all dim. The amber glow of the bulbs in the fixtures and a couple candles around gave little to no light for the either of them. "Clever plan, though. I'll give you that one." The lights suddenly blinked brighter, causing the much smaller Dutch to shrink back and squint his eyes, watching as the German man came closer. "I wonder what kind of punishment would be more...what's the word...beneficial to you. I honestly think that anything that Annaleise administers is much too soft. She's too motherly to all you young ones." Ludwig picked up a key from one of the tables, undoing one of the handcuffs before starting on the other one. "You're young enough...we're going to play a game." Ludwig said firmly, staring into the eyes of the younger wolf as he pulled a riding crop from his back pocket. He carried it everywhere he went, but now...it seemed like it would get good use. "Do as I say, or you'll get whipped. If you obey, you'll be rewarded with days outside the manse. If I'm not satisfied with your performance, you're not going anywhere. Understood?"

Lars remained quiet, his eyes still trying to burn holes through Ludwig's. The first command was simple. 'Stehen. Stand up.'. The riding crop slapped against the mahogany table, and near instantly, Lars stood, getting a small sound of approval from Ludwig. "Now sit."

"You just told me to stand up." Lars retorted, glancing at the chair with a wide frown.

"Nein. Sit like you're a dog." The German hit the table again, this time making Lars flinch at the sound. "Now sitz!" With a long hiss, Lars did as he was told, looking up at Ludwig once again for approval. It was like this for at least an hour, and when Lars didn't obey, there was a hard smack from the riding crop to either of his arms. By the end of the 'training', Lars's arms were raw and bruised, and he was sitting on the floor holding both the marred areas. "…Are you done?"

"For now." Lars replied, looking up at him with a glare.

"Good enough. Go to your room. Daniel's waiting for you outside to make sure that you actually do go where you've been told to go." Ludwig sighed, pulling out a handkerchief and wiped off anything that could have been on the fine leather end of the riding crop.

oOoOoOoOoOo

There were only a few rings until Emma had picked up the phone, groaning a bit as she woke up. "Lars, when did you leave last night…? It's only eight something in the morning…" She mumbled, looking at the clock from the bed.

"I left early in the morning, but that's not the problem here. Emma, they know about you." The words seemed breathy and worried, just as they should be. The Dutchman was standing in his bedroom, having been pacing around while waiting for her to pick up. "They've bought me a ticket and a passport to go on a one way trip to Siberia tomorrow morning. I don't know how long I'm going to stay there. I've got everything lined up for you. While I'm in Siberia, you're going to Oslo."

Emma's eyes had gotten quite large as he told her of what happened. "Lars, no." She didn't know what else to say. 'No', this couldn't be happening. 'No', you can't go. 'No', take me with you, please. "No no no no no—" She said quickly, sitting up fully in bed. "This is a sick joke, right? You're not really going to the middle of nowhere, are you?"

"I'm afraid so. I just need you to listen, though. There's a package under the kitchen sink. It's labelled as cleaning supplies but inside is a bunch of documents I've saved from when I was younger. Photographs, birth certificate, and everything else. There's a passport with your name on it in there as well. Take that, call the number on the cupboard on the pink post-it, and start packing." Lars instructed, pursing his lips. "Lukas will take care of you in my absence."

Emma didn't want to cry while she was on the line with Lars, put the Belgian had her lips pursed into a heavy line and tears were starting to form in her eyes. "Lars…"

"Please don't cry, Emma. Please…" Lars's voice sounded strained as it was, and on the other side of the phone, he was holding his stomach, trying to ease the pain of the blow he had taken. "…I'll be sure to contact you whenever you can. I love you so much…I'd probably drive myself crazy thinking about you while I'm away."

"Please don't. I'd like to have a sane boyfriend to come back to." She sniffled, rubbing her nose.

"…About that. You need to look in that package as soon as possible. Please, though…please let them take care of you, and do as they say. I have something worked out, and I'll be back with you in no time. And we'll go somewhere nice."

"…I wanna go to America when you get out of there. We'll live there for a month, get fat and work it all off. There's cold winters in the Midwest with lots of snow." Emma wiped her nose again, then wiped a few tears away. "I know by the time you'll get out, you won't like snow too much, but I really don't care because you promise...right?"

"I promise. I need to go and pack...alright? As soon as you get off the line, call the number and go through that box, and then you go and pack. They'll get to Antwerp faster than you can say Verantwoordelijkheidsgevoel."

"Alright...I'll do that." The Belgian nodded, sighing through her nose. "...I love you, Lars. I love you so so much."

"I love you more. I'll go crazy before I stop loving you." The line cut off, leaving Emma to her own devices. Lars sat on the bed, holding his stomach. He felt like he was going to throw up. The dread and pain was starting to get to him. He might as well pack underwear, socks and warm clothes, he assumed. What would Emma pack, though? Probably everything and the sink.

OooOoOoOoOo

There wasn't much to say after that. Emma dug the double wrapped plastic bag out of the bathroom sink cabinet and went through it quickly while she packed. Lots of pictures, scanned and remastered so that they would be clearer. Lars and his family, Lars and a bunch of people. The writing on the back of the card read 'Amsterdam || 1911 || 14 yrs old' There was a bunch of old farm equipment, a dog...it looked to be a sheep dog, actually. Another one was Lars at seventeen in an old automobile, and there was another young man next to him. 'Lars and Luca || 17 and 16 || 1914' Under the writing on the back, there was a message:

'For a guy who's so up tight about his money, you sure drive like an asshole. Learn to drive better before we ship off to America, Lars! -Luca Schroeder

Ps: I may not be your broer, but I can't think of anything closer than that.'

Luca must have been the one to die in that car accident...it must have been terrible to lose someone like that so quickly. Tucking the photos back into the bag, Emma pulled out her passport. With a sigh, she looked it over. All the information was correct. Date of birth, name, picture...though the picture looked quite...plain. She was smiling, but it was almost too sweet. It wasn't right at all. She looked the bag over again, and upon further inspection, there were a few flash drives in there. One marked with 'Finances', another marked with 'Information' and a few more on a key ring with 'Class I, Class II, Class II...' and so on, on them, all the way up to 'Class VI'.

When she was distracted away from the photos enough, she picked up her phone and called the number on the post it note and put the address into her phone's gps as well. The phone rang a couple times, then someone picked up.

"Lukas's phone, can I help you?" The voice sounded young—teenager young. There was a slight crack in his voice when he spoke.

"Yes...I'm looking for Lukas? It's in regards to one of his friends. Does Lars van Dijk ring a bell?" The moment she said that, the teen started yelling in some Scandinavian language. The phone was jostled to someone else, then another man answered.

"Lukas Thorsen, how may I help you in regards to Lars?" He asked her quickly, shuffling through some papers, it seemed.

"Uh—My name is Emma, and he left me your name, number and address to an airport...? I really don't know how to explain it, but he's had a run in with some people he knew, and now I'm coming to Oslo...?"

"That you are." Lukas sighed into the receiver, turning his head away from the phone. "Mathias! Kom i flyet begynte!" He coughed, then came back onto the phone. "It's going to take us a day to get there. We're going to make a stop in Bermen, Germany for fuel, then we're going to stop in Antwerp and make a fourteen hour flight. Getting to you will take about...Seven hours, at least."

This was going too fast. It was rocking and grinding in Emma's stomach, and this was just...too much. Too much at once, and she needed an answer to her questions! "Why does Lars want me in Oslo so badly? What...what the hell is really going on here?" Anxiety swept through Emma as Lukas spoke, as she was getting upset with what was going on. "Please, just tell me something that'll help."

The man on the other end of the phone sighed, and somehow she imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was told to tell you on the plane. You will have to wait, Emma. I'm sorry, but that's what Lars told me to do, and he's been a client of mine for a long time now. I don't want to displease him even now. Get your things packed, and we'll be there to pick you up. Okay? This is difficult for everyone, not excluding yourself. Air traffic, air police, and travel times are going to be our main problems. Not to mention that it's not uncommon for witches to be out at this time of night...they'll be all over the place sooner or later this year..." Lukas sounded like he was starting to get his things together, yelling at Matthias again, then to a different one named Eirikur. "Please meet us at the address Lars gave to you when I call you. I'm sorry this has to happen, but it's for your own good."

Emma hung up her phone without any other words, sighing heavily as she tossed her phone away. This was just too much right now. She couldn't bear to think of all of it. So...what do people do when they feel like they can't handle things? They bottle it up. No more feeling. Not until it can be dealt with in a healthier manner rather than worrying and yelling and crying.

OoOoOo

There was a famine. Every human being was taking something from this, whether it be food from another person or the sickening feeling of emptiness in their stomach. Alice was one of those visiting on a deep and cloudy day. The cover from the ocean had blown in, creating a thick and impenetrable barrier between the sun and the Englishwoman. But why was she so far North from London? In one answer: Pests. An outbreak of small and powerless fledglings had broken out in around the coast, and it was her job to find them and make sure they never saw moonlight again. With having her task done, she found herself wandering around before she decided to catch a train home.

She didn't expect to find him. She didn't think he'd actually look up when she called to him; "Are you alright?" As he lay amongst the filth with his ribs hanging out of his skin, and cheeks so sunken in. He couldn't hardly reply to her question, he was so weak and fragile. But his eyes were what caught her. Shining peridot eyes with messy red hair to compliment them. Behind all the muck and past the thin and brittle structure, he was beautiful...and Alice wanted to take care of him. She doubted he'd remember this, as he was still quite young. There a few things that she noticed as she picked him up, though. He was incredibly light. That was to be obvious, though. He probably hadn't eaten properly for a long time. This boy was covered in dirt. Hell, he made a dust cloud when she hoisted him up to her shoulder and pulled her cloak around. This boy smelled of wolves. Scotland was widely a werewolf-populated area. Many of the sailors and some of the other locals had mixed blood, or they were full bloods that were of Irish and Scottish, maybe even Celtic origins. He didn't smell too badly—a quick bath and possibly some time with Alice would cover that up. Even as she got on the train with this scurvy looking boy in her lap, there was a lump in her stomach that seethed guilt and dread as she made her way home. She had done something wrong, she knew. But...all for something so precious. "...Alistair." In the following years, he grew up strong, bold, and very much human. Alice realized what she had gotten herself into when he grew up to be a handsome man. Her knees grew weak at the sight of him, and she had slowly fallen in love.

He knew what and who she was, so with a bit of blood and some patience, Alice changed him so that they could be together as long as they could manage.

...

... ...

...

"Alice, I'm not going to town for you just to get a loaf of bread and some sugar. It's bad enough that you had me go for other useless shit." Alistair huffed, looking up from his laptop computer at his desk. He was just playing Galliga again, but that was just a small detail at the moment.

"Alistair, I'm going to beat you to kingdom come, nurse you back to health and smack you with a stick, you ingrate." Alice huffed in retort, puffing out her cheeks like she normally did when she was angry.

The years with the Englishwoman and the former Scot were interesting. Explaining how things moved and changed were difficult when dealing with a small person, but in the end, it was working well. "...Can't you just go in the evening so you won't burn up or something?"

"I go when it's raining, you idiot. And it's just a ten minute walk into town, Alistair. Can't you just do this one thing for m—"

"Oh no, it's not just one thing. I'll get into town and you'll say 'Oh, I just need this, too. And some tea. Would you pick up some biscuits while you're out? Oh, and maybe some coffee. I've been craving coffee.'." The redhead mocked, rolling his eyes at her. "...Stop making that face."

"I'm not making a face." Oh, she was. She had turned her normal expression into a pitiful pout and refused to look at Alistair. "I'm just worried that you're not getting enough to eat since...you know, I'm not really a food person and you're a growing boy and all..."

"I've stopped growing since you took a chunk out of my neck. That still hurts, by the way. And I honestly don't understand why we have to keep the pantry so full. All you eat is tea and biscuits..." Alistair muttered, watching her come closer. "Oi, no no no. You get back over there." He growled, watching helplessly as she closed his computer up and moved it aside to plop herself on his lap. "...What are you doing?"

"Bribery." She cooed, kissing the bridge of his nose, winding her arms around his neck as he shifted uncomfortably. "Come on...you're more immune to warmth and sun that I am...and it'd just be for tea and biscuits..." Alice added, moving from Alistair's nose to his cheeks, then back to his jawbone. "And I'm sorry that hurts so much still...I could kiss it better..."

"Alice..." Alistair hissed lightly, quickly moving to shove her off of him and onto the floor. "I'll get your damn biscuits and tea if you don't do that—you and I may be a bit behind on that kind of bed-play, but that doesn't mean you have to use it against me like that!" He growled, flashing his pearly fangs in distaste. "You'd better be ready for a cup of tea and a wild afternoon of whatever you were doing."

"Kissing, Alistair. I was kissing, and you really quite enjoyed that. It's been too long since we've done that, hunh?" Alice just lay on the floor, looking up at him with a smile. She really had gone soft when it came to Alistair. After all, they had been together since he was a child...their relationship was almost like a 'Lovesick Lover' kind of love. He was head over heels for her, and she was the same for him. "I'll have everything ready for your arrival home...~" Alice smiled and waved at him as he headed for the door, closing her eyes with a wide smirk as she heard the door close. "Works every time."