Chapter Twenty:
Recovery

Disclaimer: Hahaha—no. I do not, nor will I ever, own any media showcased in this piece of fanfiction. They all belong to their respective creators and owners. The only thing I (barely) own is this piece are the written works and the original characters within it.

Warnings: There will be cursing, violence, mild nudity, blood, gore, and a few other minor things under the rainbow with this fic.

Notes: I got a small burst of energy and creativity the last week or so and it's been promising enough that I've managed to craft a few more chapters. I'm so glad I've been able to work on this story lately. Thank you to anyone who is still around.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Hollowness: that I understand. I'm starting to believe that there isn't anything you can do to fix it. That's what I've taken from the therapy lessons: the holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mold yourself through the gaps."
― "The Girl on the Train" by Paula Hawkins

OoOoOoOoOoO

The digital, crystalline screen displayed before her flickered briefly before settling into a steady glow. The computer room, with its arsenal of servers, was a boon she hadn't been expecting.

Truthfully, Lupin had been avoiding most assets in this house.

She was glad she had broken the unspoken taboo she had created for herself in lieu of all that.

A series of serious-faced men, and one or two women, stared solemnly back at her. At the head of it all, the top of the spider's web, sat Xerxes' face. It was a digital array of names and faces Lupin had arrayed over the night, information collected on who did what in Chimera Dynamics, and just how important or influential they were in the company. It was not based on a matter of how many stocks they owned in the company, but rather how deep their influence ran into the company, and even beyond it.

They each had a hand, a stake, in Chimera Dynamics. They were the pieces that would topple everything beneath Xerxes' influence.

She stared over them all, memorizing them, committing them to memory.

In short, they were a hit list.

If Lupin could somehow, someway, make her way off of Berk, and ensured they died by her hand…then perhaps she could draw Xerxes out. Make him sweat, make him nervous.

It might make him edgy, if she managed to kill off a few of his closest...well. They varied. Investors. Lobbyists. Board members. They probably weren't his closest of associates, but some would hit a few nerves, financially and otherwise.

They were high on the list, close to his network of inner workings. They knew. They had to know.

By the time she managed to see what time it was, she threw sleep and rest entirely to the wind. She couldn't sleep. She's slept enough. If truth be told, she felt too active to ever lay her head down again, and even if she was tired…

No. She didn't want to think about it.

Lupin padded out of the computer room, one she had once promised herself to not go into, and back out onto the first floor of the house. The once-shining hardwood floor was now marred with scratches and gouges from her back paws. She hadn't even bothered with buffing or cleaning, the usual maintenance that was needed for pure wooden flooring. Her grandmama would be so furious with her. She was probably rolling in her grave, screaming incessant profanity to boot, at the state of things.

The hours passed and she puttered around the place, unsure of what to do with herself. In the end, she ended up brewing a full batch of coffee, and even managed to roast some meat. Whiplash came poking around every once in a while, and as Lupin slowly cooked or ate or drank coffee, she'd toss him strips of meat or flaky fish meat. The Night Fury purred his approval as the night waned and dawn heralded closer with each passing minute.

She heard him approach long before the knock came at the door. It was not soft or hesitant, but sure and confident. Before she even opened the door, she knew it was Connor.

When she flung the door open with a mug of coffee in hand, Connor stood on the porch, poised and vigilant, sporting the same long coat as she's seen him wear the last few times that she's seen him. The hood was down for the time being, she noted absently. He nodded to her in greeting.

"Are you ready?"

"You want something to eat first?"

It wasn't much, but there was still some haunch roast and coffee left over were all she had to offer. Connor's dark eyes flicked upward, past her shoulder into the interior of the house. He didn't linger long and shook his head.

"No. I am fine for the time being."

Lupin took a slow and languid sip of her coffee, draining her mug before leaning to set aside on the ground by the door. Whiplash perked at the sudden activity, drawing himself away from the living room where he had been resting and warbled at Lupin curiously. She briefly glanced at him, shrugging, before turning back to Connor when she'd finished setting her empty mug away.

"Fine. Let's get going."

Without preamble, he led the way. Lupin didn't bother locking up. In fact, she couldn't recall whether or not she had keys to the place, and honestly, didn't much care to, even if she did.

Who the fuck was going to bother to steal from her?

…maybe a pack of Terrible Terrors, if they were determined enough to get inside. The only Terror she really had to worry about was Snapper. He seemed to have forgiven her past transgressions and came back to haunt the house. The last she'd seen him, he had been napping somewhere on the first floor.

It was no surprise when Connor pressed onward into the depths of the forest, pushing past low foliage and around the twisting bends of tree trunks. It was the hour before dawn, the morning twilight where everything was overlaid with a sheen of grey shadows. Mist coiled around everything, draping the world in its pale, opaque embrace.

Whiplash romped about, following his own path parallel to the one Connor carved, with Lupin in tow. She could hear him in the swirling deep and caught glimpses of him from time to time. Once or twice, he'd dart onto the path in front of them and Connor would take pause at the dragon's antics, tense and alert, before motioning for them to continue.

"So, what exactly are we doing?"

"You shall see."

"Great. You're about as mysterious as my drill instructors."

He gave pause at the remark, shooting her a quiet look over his broad shoulder. Her lips twitched.

"Oh, you didn't hear? Or was it something you didn't believe? I'm a Marine."

"They have allowed women to serve?"

Apparently, it was news to him. He gave her an appraising look over the shoulder, but nothing more.

"Yep. And yes, I know exactly where the Marine Corps started. A tavern. Trust me, the tradition hasn't died down. Marines love bars now as much as they did back in your heyday."

Christ, she could be an ass. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from saying anything more. She needed Connor, much as she both didn't want to admit and had already admitted as such to him.

"Tun Tavern. I have heard of it, although I never visited it myself," Connor simply replied. Lupin fell silent, but it was brief.

"It's gone now."

Connor's step faltered and he almost came to a complete stop. Lupin clenched her jaw.

"A lot's changed in the last…well, three hundred-ish years. But they marked it, in Philadelphia, where it was. I…I haven't been there, either, to see the memorial, if it's any consolation."

Connor pressed on, keeping his back to her.

"I cannot expect things to stay the same, given it is, as you say, 'three hundred-ish years' that have passed."

Lupin lapsed into silence once again, her cheeks colouring and growing hot. They wound their way through Berk's untamed wilds, with Whiplash prancing about in the distance, mucking through his own path. She heard the telltale squeals of wild boar as he startled them and sent them running.

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jackass about it."

Connor didn't reply. Lupin didn't press the issue. When he came to halt to their forced march, he came to a pause before a natural clearing in the forest. There were several targets—ones she recognized from the village—lined up farther across the way, while baskets of arrows and quite a number of bows sat on their end. Connor motioned to the objects in question with a sweep of his hand.

"You have admitted that you are not gifted with using a bow, due to some personal challenges."

"I don't know if I can call my claws a personal challenge, since I can't exactly be without them…" Lupin muttered under her breath, so low he couldn't hear her. It was different with Valka. Valka could strip herself of her dragon armour. She didn't have to worry about the claws decorating her armour snagging on a bowstring the way Lupin had to worry about herself. When it had become clear Lupin couldn't use a bow, Valka had gently set aside the lessons, and focused solely on dragons with her.

Dragons were something Lupin could get down with. A bent stick tied up with string that shot off thinner, sharper sticks? Not so much.

"We can find a way," Connor continued, his tone both indulgent and expectant as he watched her. Lupin's hands were flexing and she didn't realize until his dark eyes flicked to her sides, watching. She quickly drew them back from sight, ducking her own gaze.

"I…I told you…these ain't exactly easy to overcome," she said quietly, bringing her clawed hands back into view. She wanted to flinch at the sight of them. Just like her canines, her claws just seemed too damned big to fit on her hands. They were talons, really, thick and curved, and perfect for carving flesh like wet cardboard.

"Are you making excuses?"

Lupin's jaw clacked shut and she inhaled deeply, clenching her fingers to curl into the palms of her hands until they bit sharply at the flesh there. Her silence was answer enough. Connor nodded and turned to pick up a bow, testing it's bowstring before passing it to Lupin.

"Show me what Valka has shown you."

Mutely, she did as he told her.

She took up the position Valka had showed her several times over, with one hand holding the bow's arm, and the other moving to the bowstring. The wood creaked in her grip as she curled her index and middle finger around the bowstring, whilst the other fingers pressed into the curve of her palm. The bowstring clung comfortably to the crease between the tips and middle of her fingers as she held the pose. The tips of her claws bowed even more into the motion, plucking teasingly at the bowstring as she drew it back to where Valka had shown her countless times. She felt the bowstring kiss the corner of her mouth. Just as she began to release, the string sliding against the pads of her digits, it caught on her claws, and before she could stop it, just as countless times before, the bowstring broke cleanly in half. One end stung her cheek just beneath her eye, the other snapping at the edge of her chin.

Lupin snarled as her tail bristled and her ears flipped backward to press flat against her head. She dropped the position and the broken bow to boot, huffing and turning her glare on Connor, which ebbed away into an "I told you so" look. In return, he remained impassive, a hand pressing to his chin thoughtfully. He quietly motioned for her to show him her hand. She was reluctant to let him touch her and had to stomach the urge to yank down on the long sleeve of her shirt to cover her wrist, to hide the burn scars that encircled it.

Slowly, she complied against all instinct that screamed at her to not do it. He barely touched her, surprisingly. The tips of his fingers held her hand aloft, his study careful and deliberate as he kept it focused on the deadly claws that tipped her own digits. His observation didn't last long, and he released her, giving her a nod.

"It is…not impossible to work around this."

"Have you ever worked with a werewolf before?" Lupin asked him bluntly. It was almost refreshing how honest he was when he replied immediately, first with a shake of the head and then a verbal confirmation.

"No. But I believe a bow is something you would work well with."

"I already know how to use a rifle and a pistol. I'm not shabby with a knife. You have a blade attached to your wrist, for Christ's sakes. What more do I need?"

"Do you believe you can get close enough with any of those?" He asked her pointedly. Lupin's teeth clacked against one another, thrown for a loop. When she didn't answer him, he asked the question again, more stringently this time.

"I…I don't know."

Could she even get to wherever Xerxes, or any of his lackeys, without triggering their missile-happy wrath? With the right sniper rifle, perhaps—but that was not something she had training with.

Regardless….she didn't know. If she had it her way, she'd tear through everything and anyone in her path with the fury of a hurricane and firestorm rolled into one.

He raised a brow at her, cross his arms over his chest.

"Killing is easy. Being subtle, and doing it undetected, without a trace that you were even there, takes time and care and more than just a pistol or a blade in hand." His lips pressed tightly together, his brow furrowing as his arms loosened from their fold. "Tell me…have you killed before?"

"Every full moon," she said flatly, before adding more quietly, "And in the war going on still. Line them up in the crosshairs, and pow. Down they go. It was either my guys or them…I chose my guys."

"You have removed yourself from that scenario entirely," Connor noted, watching her with curiousity and intrigue. There were unspoken words hidden between the lines, ones she could sense just fine.

"Not like I can die that easily. Not unless the enemy carried…" She choked on her next words, before realizing that damn near everyone has probably heard by now. "They don't carry silver bullets exclusively and last I checked, they used the same crappy AK's they've used for decades, probably with the same bullets they molded from the same era those rifles were made in." She swallowed. "They shot at me, sure, but…I didn't have to think about it. I was more worried about getting my side home safe at the end of the day."

She'd only ever spoken about this kind of stuff to one person, and Valka wasn't here. But if this was going to work at all, she needed to suck it up. If she could survive her shitty childhood, could make it through the hellish training that was the Marines, and even live through a violent werewolf attack…fuck, then this should be…easy. Easy as pie.

Lupin wished she could believe any of that.

The scattered pitter-patter of paws romping through the underbrush drew her attention, her head snapping up, ears alert, as she scanned the misty landscape. Her eyes ping-ponged back and forth, until she saw the faint, familiar slinking lithe shape of Whiplash as he paraded about the forest further in from them. She relaxed marginally, comforted to know that he was close by.

When she turned back to Connor, she was avoided his gaze as she noticed he was watching her carefully, as though studying how she had reacted. Like an animal at display at the zoo. She gave an impatient wave toward the targets.

"Let's just keep going, all right?"

I want to get this part over with and move on, the unspoken slithered about in her head, but she refused to say them aloud. Whatever he had to offer her, she didn't want to drive him off. Slip back into my old boots and just do as I'm told to get the mission done and over with.

It shouldn't be that hard. She still felt pieces of her old life, hovering at the fringes of everything, just within reach, ready to be snatched up.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Have you been to Castle Wyvern?"

"That feels like a loaded question."

"That's because I already know the answer."

"Then why ask it?"

Valka hummed, a smile touching her lips. "I was curious what you'd answer."

Lupin snorted, twisting a fish over in the palm of her hands as she stared down at the jagged ice cliffs into the interior of the dragon haven. Rusty lay below, sweeping his head back and forth to watch the flock as they twirled and danced in the air above him. Whiplash and Cloudjumper were close by, and every once in a while, Lupin would toss a fish over at the Night Fury, and Valka to the Stormcutter. Cloudjumper did not take the bait with the teasing that Whiplash was trying to engage in with.

He didn't have long to wait, as the other Night Furies soon came to join him, and the gaggle was soon off, playing their own little games. Lupin watched them as they darted after one another, saw Cloudjumper doing the same, and huffed softly.

"Does it matter whether or not I go there? I doubt anyone is losing sleep wondering where I am."

Valka hesitated before replying, "That's…true. Nobody is sick with worry, not like I was. But that doesn't negate the fact that some are asking after you."

"How touching." Lupin snorted, rolling her eyes. "Like who?"

"The young woman you helped from those headless monsters, for one. Winry. Some of the gargoyles. One of the Winchesters. Sam, I think. Hellboy and Liz. Abe has once or twice, but not as often as the other two."

Lupin pursed her lips, her brow furrowing as she processed Valka's answer, mildly surprised. She reached into the basket next to her, claws hooking into an especially large fish, and she wiggled it a few times before tossing it high into the air.

The Night Furies that were zooming close in their little game of air tag swooped in to snatch the delectable out of midair. She watched them scrabble over the icy roof, play fighting over the fish, until Storm Hunter snatched it up and played keep away, drawing the others out into another game.

"I…I don't…" Lupin broke off, dropping her gaze to her hands—still the same, clawed and deceptively powerful, and stupidly hard to overcome with a simpler weapon than a pistol or knife—and saw flakes of silvery scales sticking to the meat of her palm. Lupin plucked at a few scales absently, frowning. "I don't think I'm ready to see any of them. Not yet, anyway."

Valka reached over, and gently clasped her hand over Lupin's, ever mindful of those same claws that could easily rend her flesh open. Years of practice and experience working with dragons has taught her patience and caution.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to, of course. I understand. It's…hard returning back to crowds of people, after everything else you're used to." When she smiled at Lupin, creases formed at the corners of her eyes, her teeth flashing. It lasted for several long seconds before it faded and she dipped her head to peer down into the caverns below. "But…Liz is nearing the end of her pregnancy. She's had…accidents, here and there. Some more serious than others. Hellboy, he's helped contain or stop most of them, but…"

Valka's voice petered out, and the rest, Lupin could fill in the blanks with. She slid her eyes closed, hanging her head, ears flickering.

"Yeah. I got it."

Maybe I should pay them a visit. At least once or twice…

She remembered seeing the terror in Liz's eyes, the agony of not having control, of watching it slip away, if she even had it in the first place, scrap by scrap, piece by piece like silky water, like slippery oil. Lupin remembered the fire and how it blazed, scorching everything it touched—except for her and Hellboy and Liz. The fire was Liz's, but Lupin found it malleable to her will and reined it in, bringing it under her control. There had been little resistance, and before long, she had Liz working at it as well, although her control was small at best.

"Are…are you heading that way later?" Lupin asked Valka quietly, and the older woman's lips crept upward, as she turned to watch the Night Furies in their playful romp.

"In a little while, I am. Broadway said he would be cooking dinner once he woke up. He's good. Puts any fine feast that Berkians made almost to shame."

The thought of food made Lupin's gut clench tightly into hungry knots. "Should I bring a coffee cake or something as a peace offering?"

Valka paused on it, tapping her lip thoughtfully, almost in a teasing way, before grinning. "Perhaps something a bit more than a cake. Can you hunt us a boar?"

Lupin stared at her, dumbstruck at first, before it slid away into amusement. "I think I can do that. Island's got quite a number of them in the forest."

Valka patted her shoulder. "Then I suggest you get right to it and meet me at the castle before sundown."

OoOoOoOoOoO

It felt strange, wearing the sheaths of her knives again. She always had one, or both of them, on her, when she had been stationed in Chechnya. Her Marines loved taking turns wondering what material her bone-knife had been made of. Some of them joked that it was made from the fang of a saber-toothed tiger, or a wooly mammoth, repurposed for hunting down their enemies in the modern day. Others slung wilder guesses, like it was a bear fang, or a dinosaur fossil that wasn't really a fossil, or that Lupin had poached an African elephant to make herself the knife, and stuffed an animal femur in the hilt for a more tribal effect.

None of them ever came close to guessing what it really was: a werewolf fang. Harder than any bone, rock, or steel; it was the perfect hunting tool, with its serrated edges and forever-sharp point, it's hilt wrapped tightly in leather. The only part that ever needed any honing was the silver edge imbedded in the curve of the fang.

The other was not as flashy or memorable; just a long steel blade with leather wrappings on the hilt, but the edge held the same silver as the fang. Perfect for taking out anything that wasn't human and was just as susceptible to silver as her kind was.

Either one could handle a boar.

Hell, her claws could do much the same. Worse, even, if she were so inclined to use them instead.

But it's been a while, and I feel rusty, she thought as she stalked along the undergrowth, picking her path with meticulous care as she sniffed out tracks, scent marks, everything that could offer her a recent trail.

The mist that blanketed the island had lifted much earlier in the day, but sunset was coming fast. The days were growing shorter, and the nights longer. She had little time to waste.

Her tail shivered and twitched, occasionally wagging in anticipation as she trekked onward and came close enough that she could hear the damn wild pigs snuffling loudly in the brush. Her fingers tightened around the leather hilts, relishing in their familiar touch.

She stepped carefully as she heralded closer to the herd. Several of them snorted and grunted, all gathered together in close knit groups. A few squeals arose every once in a while, some long and drawn out, others short and sweet.

Lupin caught a glimpse of movement ahead, close to a grove; a snout and tusks here, a wiggly tail and plump rump there. Several boards snuffled at the roots of trees, nosing at the ground, sifting the soil. Lupin shifted her gaze upward, noting a few lower hanging branches; some were too thin and bendy to support her weight, while others were thick, gnarled, old. Without preamble, and keeping one eye on the group of boars, she leapt upwards, turning her hunt arboreal. The pads of her pawed feet clutched easily as the bark as she moved, but she made sure to not dig her claws in any more than she needed to. Stripping the bark and letting it scatter below would warn her prey of her presence, and she didn't need them getting wily to her ways.

She got a better view from above, seeing nearly a dozen of the fat pigs browsing the undergrowth in their merry little band. A few were piglets and she eyed them with an almost hungry pang, but it eased away as she watched them prance about the adults.

No, no. No tiny little glazed ham dinner tonight, she thought morosely. One of the adults would do just fine, and besides, it wasn't for herself. It was an offering to the others still holed up at Castle Wyvern.

She moved her gaze over the others, searching for weakness, sniffing out any signs of illness that would make it acceptable to cull one from the herd. It was a process she's worked with every full moon; the wild pigs were the only large prey available on the island. Everything else were just bite-sized snacks in comparison, such as vole, rats, and rabbits.

Barely a drop in the bucket.

The only large predator on the island, if one were to exclude the dragons from the equation entirely, would be the old, crotchety bear that lived deeper into the woods. He didn't venture closer to Berk, and that was perfectly fine, so long as he kept to his side of the island. If not, Valka has made mention of needing to hunt the bear down, to prevent it from harming anyone when they least expected it. The dragons could defend themselves fine, but they had people in the village now. They had people to take care of.

Lupin waited, long and hard, as scrupulous as ever, before she chose which boar she wanted. None were sick, none were injured. It was difficult to choose and yet at the same time…not as hard as she wanted it to be.

Lupin followed them as they moved, leaping from branch to branch as she prowled after them. They couldn't smell her out from above, couldn't run if they caught a whiff of her, if there was nothing to carry her scent to them. The winds above wouldn't travel as easily down to the ground to alert them of her presence.

When she finally chose the moment to strike, it was sudden.

Boar hunting required a long staff and a specialized tip that kept the fuckers from harming the hunter. If that hook at the end wasn't in place, then the boar would simply keep charging down the spear, impaled and all, to gut the hunter that dared to try and hunt them, before fucking off into the forest after killing their would-be killer.

Lupin didn't need any of that.

She leapt onto the humped back of the boar, back paws digging in, as she drove her twin blades into the skull of the boar, twisting hard and deep. The boar squealed, tossing and bucking wildly in a vain attempt to shake the werewolf, but as soon as the blade tips pierced its brain cavity, that was it. It was done. It collapsed without preamble, without fanfare.

The other boars squealed in protest; most took off, with their tails lifted like flags of surrender as they barreled onwards to get away from the blood and death and danger. The little piglets followed suite. One or two of the rowdier beasts stayed behind, dancing on their hooves, as though debating whether or not to attack.

Lupin stepped off the flank of the boar, snarling softly at the bold boars; it began as a low rumble in her chest before it bubbled up and exploded out of her mouth; deep and primal and terrifying as it shook the air. All but one boar fled, screeching loudly as they left, leaving scat in their wake.

One stuck to its guns, and pawed at the earth, unperturbed. Lupin twirled the knives in her hand, the blades slick with blood. She growled, staring it down, the anger sizzling away to anticipation and excitement.

"Bring it," she hissed low in her throat, fangs bared. The boar darted forward first. Lupin rushed forward a split second after, adrenaline singing in her veins.

Bone and steel met thick flesh. The boar squealed indignantly, tossing its thick head and sharp tusks in an attempt to gore Lupin, but she danced out of the way, nimble and spritely on her paws. Her tail swept behind her in expectant arcs, a shiver rippling across her thick fur. The boar whirled around, staggering as dark blood dribbled down its side and onto the forest floor. The stench was intoxicating, as much as the reek of fear that permeated the air now. The boar screamed again, charging a second time.

Lupin met it head on, deftly avoiding the tusks once again, jabbing a blade into the side of its neck and twisting. She dived away when it tried to pinwheel around on her in a third, wild attempt to gouge her. It nearly caught her that time, but she laughed, giddy as it stumbled down, and struggled to get up.

"What's the matter? Can't back up your smack talk? Come on, I'm right here!"

She spread her arms in a placating manner as she stepped backwards, feeling the earth beneath her paws as she shuffled along. The boar pushed itself up, panting heavily, now bleeding from more than one grievous wound. It screamed, blood spraying, oozing, from its maw. Its charge this time around was not as thrilling as its last few. Lupin side stepped it, quick as a wink, and bashed the blade through the eye, giving it another twist of the wrist, digging into its brain cavity. Bone scraped against bone, and the boar thrashed desperately to escape, driving the blade ever deeper until it slumped over, legs giving out beneath out.

She sighed and retracted her blade, wiping the blood off before sheathing both back where they belong.

"Not as fun as I thought it'd be," she muttered under her breath, glancing between the two boars. "And this was not intentional, but hey. Free meat."

She could eat both of these plump pigs by her lonesome and still have room for more. A lot of meat, to be sure, but she burned through meals faster than a human could. Lupin scratched her head, lingering around the bases of her ears and thinned her lips into a frown.

"Now I need to get these to Castle Wyvern. Right. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy."

Hooking her claws into the flank of one boar, and then the other, she yanked on them both, wishing she'd thought to bring Whiplash with her.

OoOoOoOoOoO

It was surprising just how easy she could slip inside without notice. She wondered if anyone was on guard at all, or if they felt safe, brought on by the illusion that the walls of the castle were big and thick and strong enough to protect them well from outside threats.

The kitchen was spacious and clear of anyone as she dragged the boars inside and dumping them upon the stainless-steel counters. They sagged stiffly, eyes glazed over and staring lifelessly at nothing. Whiplash nosed his way inside, gently sniffing the air as he did. Behind him, Snow Chaser moseyed along, crystalline red eyes drifting over the bright fixtures and snorted gently. Blood dripped along her pristine white scales in jagged rivulets. As soon as she found a space to sit down, she curled her tail over her paws and began licking herself clean, occasionally throwing a dirty glance toward Lupin. Whiplash offered a gummy-mouthed grin at her, then to Lupin, his wild green eyes sheepish.

"Hey, don't drag me down into your little love affairs. You handle your house," Lupin quipped back. She turned back toward the double doors and slipped through them, stepping lightly as she could toward the main hall. Most of everyone was gathered there already, she could hear them talking.

She briefly startled when the roars of the gargoyles broke the relative quiet like gunshots.

Lupin kept moving, slipping down hallways, noting evidence of scorch marks and immolation galore. Just as Valka had said, she could sniff out Liz's marks in all the damage, coupled with all she felt at the time; stress, anger, barely contained fear…

She slipped down another corridor, padding along the carpeted floors, moving toward the main hall. Somewhere, she heard a couple of egregious shouts coming from somewhere close by the kitchens, and she stifled her guffaws. She paused around one of the last corners, seeing Valka slinging into the main hall, Cloudjumper not far behind, chatting with Elisa and Hudson.

Valka's eyes scanned the room, and very nearly overlooked Lupin entirely, but after a second perusal, she caught Lupin's eye and smiled. She hesitated before slowly, removed herself from the corner and came forward. Elisa stopped talking, looking surprised, and Hudson watched her carefully, as though he was still unsure of whether the werewolf was a threat or not.

"Somebody left a bunch of dead boars in the kitchen!"

The shout traveled quickly as Lupin slipped into the main hall, watching as everyone turned to a trio of gargoyles standing at the opposite end.

"Sorry, that was me. A bit of a house-warming gift." She paused. "Castle-warming gift?"

Heads turned on a swivel, eyes growing wide, some mouths even going slack. Valka was the only one smiling.

"Christ on a crutch, where the hell did you come from?"

Lupin turned her gaze on the speaker, and found her eyes landing on one of the cops. John Kennox. His synthoid partner sat beside him, quietly assessing the situation, bright blue eyes not missing a thing. Kennox's brow furrowed as he regarded her with utter bewilderment, eyes raking up and down her form wordlessly. Lupin snorted and clapped her hands together, putting on a cheerfully fake voice.

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy get together, sometimes babies happen. But in my case, my daddy was a mean ole drunk who bailed on us after beating my mommy and brother and me within an inch of our lives, so sometimes, babies don't come from a place of love." The cheer disappeared as soon as her smile dropped. "I heard dinner was going on over here, so I brought something extra." She tipped her chin toward the trio of gargoyles, recognizing one of them was Broadway. "Bon appétit."

Before she could whirl on her heel, hands dropped over her shoulders, keeping her still and she groaned softly, recognizing the grip alone by touch.

"Now, now, don't be so mean."

"But Valka, my default mode is mean!" Lupin whined in a mocking, childish manner.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to work on that while you talk with people."

"Ew. Talking? With them? I dunno, they're looking at me like I got cooties," Lupin shot back breezily. Valka chuckled, and gave a very gentle push to get Lupin moving. She caved and sluggishly moved forward. Elisa fell into step beside them, tilting her head to glance at Lupin.

"You know, most people tend to clean up before showing up for dinner. Is the bloody look a new style I'm not aware of?"

She pointed to Lupin's clothing, to which she gave a cursory look over herself and she sighed.

"Alas, I was more worried about getting those plump hairy piggies here before they turned to rot and grime."

"Good point. But maybe you should wash up. You know where the bathrooms are?"

Lupin considered her briefly through half-lidded eyes. "If I say yes, will people notice or care if I disappear for hours, days, or weeks?"

Elisa smirked, shook her head, and motioned for Lupin to follow her. Lupin, in contrast, felt her stride come to a stumble, and she shot a look to Valka that all but pleaded for help. The Viking woman gave her a sly smile, tossing her hands in a "what can you do" motion, before turning to Hudson. The older gargoyle frowned at Lupin and Elisa but didn't stop them as Elisa patted the werewolf on the shoulder.

"Goddammit, Valka," Lupin groaned quietly. Elisa laughed.

"Been a while since we've seen you. Not since…well…not since Liz started having troubles with her third trimester."

Lupin muttered something under her breath, too low to be made out. All her earlier bravado was slowly eking out of her, and she wasn't sure how to stop it from leaving.

"Yeah. I've had my own shit going on lately. Sorry I'm not down with mingling these days."

Elisa shrugged. "Hey, it's your choice to not socialize. You're just the designated babysitter those people assigned to us."

"I hate that designation," Lupin grunted, hunching her shoulders as her ears splayed back against her skull. "I didn't exactly choose to be here, any more than any of y'all did."

"True," Elisa conceded. She slid a sidelong look at Lupin, pausing in their trek from the main hall and laid a hand on Lupin's shoulder. The werewolf shrugged the other woman's hand away from her and took a small step away. Elisa frowned, lips puckering as her brow beetled together. "Not big on contact. Got it." She showed her hands in surrender before motioning to Lupin. "But really…how have you been? We heard about…everything. From Sam and Red. Where they found you and the gun…"

Lupin avoided Elisa's poignant stare, her teeth quietly grinding together as her jaw clamped shut. She found more interest in the swirling aesthetic designs of the rug beneath her paws than she did in this conversation.

"Unless you got a big tub of ice cream and a couple cases of whisky, I ain't exactly going to be spilling my guts and cry about all the bad things that's happened to me in life up until that moment. Or this one, frankly."

Lupin's eyes flicked upward as she purposefully ignored Elisa's scrutiny, a familiar scent of soap and oils wafting to her. She sidestepped over toward a door and knocked it with the back of her heel. "I think I got it from here, thanks. See you when the food's ready."

Before Elisa could protest, Lupin was already slipping behind the door and engaging the lock, her back pressed against the only barrier between herself and the world outside.

She could hear Elisa shuffling outside, as though contemplating waiting or simply just leaving.

Then, "You don't have to work through it alone, you know. You can talk to us. Whoever you feel comfortable with the most, I mean."

Without an answer, Elisa stood there for a few brief moments, waiting, before slowly retreating. Lupin listened with one ear pressed to the door, before sliding down into a seated position and sighing.

She sat there for what seemed like hours, listening to the distant rumble of voices as they ebbed and flowed, to the even more distant cries of dragons as some of the more crepuscular and nocturnal species began to stir. She could smell the faint whiff of cooking meats and sizzling vegetables and more, and it made hunger stir within her soon enough. She bumped her head a few times against the door, feeling the self-hatred creep in just a little bit more, tasting acrid and dry like ashes and bile in her mouth.

"See, Valka? Mean is my default mode."

Sometimes, though…sometimes she wished it wasn't.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Additional Notes: You ever open your mouth to say one thing, and end up saying something else and it's worse than what you wanted but you can't take it back? Lupin's constantly stuck in that boat and she doesn't know how to stop it. Whaaa Angst. Pfft.