The cold Christmas air gusted in through the window, carrying with it the sound of laughter and far-off music. Billy snapped the window shut and attempted to untangle himself from the phone cord. Heavy rock music had flooded the room and he stumbled towards the radio, tripping along the way.

"I told you a thousand times, Annie, I'm not taking you to the Christmas dance. What? You'll do what?" He switched the volume knob to zero and squinted at himself in the mirror. "Now...that's what your sister' s for. Got it? Don't call me again." He was about to drop the phone when he heard a second female's voice crackling through the line. He held it up to his ear once more. "Hello? Stacey? You wanna do what? Well...that's what Annie's for!"

He let the phone go and it rattled away from him. Slowly, he leaned in towards the mirror and surveyed his candle lit reflection with approval. His hair was bouncier than ever. The skin on his furrowed brow was unblemished and glowing. He puckered his lips and winked at himself. Dashing , he thought as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. But it wasn't all his doing, he knew that. It had been months since Harrington had last bit him and he had never felt better. Sure, he missed transformation but he had made a promise. And Billy wasn't punk enough to go back on a promise. That, and he didn't want Steve to think that he was weak. He knew that Steve expected him to come begging for a bite any day now but he wanted to prove him wrong. He wanted to feel like he was the one with his foot on Steve's neck, leveraging his will above everything else.

He cocked his eyebrow as he imagined his rendezvous with Steve that night. Don't tell me you're gonna bitch out on me - there, he'd say it just like that with his eyebrow slanted and his chest exposed. Billy could see it already: Steve would smile in response, hitch his shoulders with his hands in his jacket pocket, and say something wild. Even when he was just joking around, Steve had a way with words. It was like he could never be caught off guard no matter how many times Billy called him a bitch, a fag, a princess. It was always with that same watchful and unblinking look that Steve accepted Billy's aggression. Even when they fucked, Steve would look him up and down, pierce him with understanding and unabashed craving.

Or was it love?

Billy's dresser was littered with the yellowed papers and sketches that he had pulled from the back of his closet. He didn't want Neil to find these when he was gone but he didn't want to take them either. So he resolved to bury them deep within the trash bin outside of his house. Aside from that, he would be leaving behind the posters and hair sprays and school books. All that he needed was a bag of clothes, his partner in crime, and his pack.

He took one last look around the room and waited for some sort of sentimentality to breeze through the moment. But the truth was, he wouldn't miss any of it: not the pendants hanging from the wall, not his music collection, not the smell of cigarettes, sweat and cologne that was so unique to his room. He had been carted around so often that the little square building housing the Hargrove family was nothing more than a decorated Christmas box, the inhabitants loud ornaments that rolled around and got in his way.

Billy felt as much remorse for his departure as he did for the candlelight that disappeared beneath a glob of spit. He slung his bag over his shoulder and shuffled down the hall. The door to his 'sister's room was shut but he knew that she was at the dance, most likely with that Sinclair boy from down the street. His parents had agreed to chaperone so the house was empty.

Or so he thought.

He thumped down the stairs and swung himself wildly around the bannister. He was about to open the front door when a rough voice called out to him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Billy's hand tightened on the doorknob. He grit his teeth at the sound of Neil's voice.

"I'm going to the dance, sir ."

There was the sound of springs creaking as Neil lifted himself from the living room couch. He approached him, slowly, warily. "The dance started hours ago. It's almost over now."

"Yeah, well, I'm goin' to the after party."

Neil looked at him strangely then, as if he were something miniscule and incomprehensible. It was a look that Billy had seen many times before. He already knew what Neil was thinking as he took in the entirety of him. He watched his father's eyes travel across his single earring, his hair, his parted shirt and suddenly he felt so out of place in his own skin. How did I raise such a son, Neil was asking himself, what is wrong with you ?

"You're leaving…" he said.

The bag suddenly felt heavier in Billy's hand. He didn't even know that Neil had seen it. He held Neil's gaze steadily though he felt his heart begin to thunder. Hatred choked his throat and twisted his lips. Of course I'm leaving , he wanted to spit back, nothing you've done makes me want to stay with you. But he refused to answer him. He'd let his father come to his own conclusions, as egocentric and far from the truth as they might be, so that he wouldn't have to explain himself. Neil furrowed his brow.

"Why?"

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Its sharp metronome echoed through the house and seemed to pound with his very pulse.

"I don't have to answer to you anymore," he said in a quivering voice. As he spoke, a tear dislodged itself from his lashes and splattered on the hardwood floor but still his face remained set.

"Is that so?"

Neil reached out and Billy ducked. He straightened up quickly and glanced at his shoulder where his father's fingers had found a lock of his hair. He looked at Neil, his mouth parted in disgust and surprise.

"So like your mother." He stood petrified as his father brought his hair to his nose and inhaled deeply. The house yawned and creaked in its emptiness and Billy wished that somebody, anybody else was there. "Always scampering around and hiding from her problems. I thought you were stronger than that, Billy…"

Billy rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He's lying to you he's lying he's lying, he told himself as tears began to fall freely. Why was he crying? He hated himself for it.

"You're really going to leave your dear old dad? And Susan? And your sister?"

He's playing with you, Billy. Any second he's going to hurt you.

"You're my son ."

Billy drew his eyes back down and for a split second felt something akin to heartache when he saw the look on his father's face. Then he thought of Steve and the promise that he had made. He turned and placed his hand on the door handle once again. "I have to go -"

Neil rushed him then and trapped him against the door. In a single swift movement, he had pinned Billy's wrists between them and ground his forearm into the back of Billy's neck. Billy winced against the cold stained glass of the front door window and prayed that it would be over before anyone saw him from the outside.

"You're my son, do you understand me? Mine. You're not your mother and I won't - I repeat - I won't let you leave me again!"

Neil gave his body a quick jerk. Billy felt his heart began to spasm as he was ground harder against the door. He wondered if this was it, if the old man had finally snapped. There was nothing that he could do as his breath left him and black circles began to ripple over his vision. Neil was strong, much stronger than him but then by some luck Billy noticed a weak point in his hold. Billy spun around, but he was still too slow. Neil caught him by the neck and slammed the back of his head against the door. They were facing each other now and what Billy saw in Neil's eyes scared him. Neil was no longer in the present. He was far gone, his pupils dilated beneath the image of his wife walking out the door and leaving them behind.

"Let me go," Billy said in a voice so quiet, so unlike him.

"Have you forgot your manners, boy?"

Billy struggled then. He struggled in a way that was rare and degrading to him. He knew what Neil wanted him to say but he'd be a coward if he were to do it. A coward and a bitch. He could feel Neil's breath on his neck and his upper lip. He smelled like tobacco and, surprisingly, alcohol. It made him sick. The wolf within him stirred, begging to be set free from Neil's suffocating hold. But to fly or to fight, Billy didn't know. Though his bottom lip quivered, he forced himself to look Neil in the eye with all of the rage and hatred that he could muster.

And then he said, "Let me go, please... sir. "

Neil's face twisted in disgust and he shoved hin. Billy was up and running so fast that he didn't even hear the words that Neil called after him. He ran towards his car, stumbled in the dirt, and pitched forward over the glistening hood. Neil said something, something about his mother, but Billy didn't want to hear it. He threw himself into his car, turned the key in the ignition, and tore through the night.

Dear Mom,

Don't be surprised, but I'm following your advice. I found a pack in San Francisco that I want to join and I'm heading there tonight. Don't worry I have the gas money to make it. Also, I have a couple of Clash CDs to keep me going. I'll write you as soon as I get there. Figure I'll spend a year or two with them, see how I like it. I didn't know how to tell dad and I figured saying, 'hey, your son's actually a teenage werewolf' wouldn't be a good start to the conversation so...I don't know. I'll let you figure it out, mom. You're better at these sort of things than I am.

But anyway, tell him I love him. And I love you, too. You'll hear from me soon.

The One and Only

Steve Hairy-gnton.

Steve ran his tongue along the edge of the envelope and pressed it down. He considered placing it beneath his mom's pillow but figured that his dad might accidentally stumble upon it. So instead he placed it in her jewelry box, the antique one that he had bought her for her birthday. It was God-awful ugly but he knew that she liked those sort of things. He still remembered how her eyes had lit up when she pulled it up from tacky wrapping paper. She claimed that it was of the rarer, by name only sorts but he had copped it at the thrift store for five bucks. He placed the envelope on top of dusty old jewelry and pictures of him as a baby with his father. The confused and sort of 'am I a bad-ass?' look that his father wore in every picture struck a cord in him. But it was living under his parents' wings until college verses a rougishly independent life with Hargrove. It was a tough decision but the idea of ultimate freedom and constant sex with Billy always won him over in the end.

He shouldered his bag and crept down the stairs, turning off lights as he went. His parents assumed that he was going to that night's dance and thus had decided to treat themselves to dinner at a restaraunt. He hoped that his parting wouldn't hurt them too bad but, then again, they knew that he had a wandering soul.

He opened the door and was surprised to find Nancy standing there. It had begun to rain lightly and the cold mist made her hair stick to her cheeks.

"Oh - hi!" She said.

"...hi."

"You just now heading to the dance?" She tried to make her voice cheerful and carefree but her eyes conveyed a different story. They searched his face desperately, looking for an emotion unknown to Steve. It made him anxious, being looked at like that, and he desperately wished that she would just go. And yet, beneath the heartache masked by impatience, he knew that he was forgetting something. "I got other places to be," he said, much rougher than he had intended.

"Okay." She pursed her lips and hunched her shoulders as if protecting herself from whatever look she had seen in his face. Then she blurted, "You weren't gonna ask me, were you? I mean, we're still technically boyfriend and girlfriend..."

Steve startled, as if from a reverie, and noticed, for the first time, the rouge on her cheeks and pale blue powder above her eyes. The dance! She was going to the dance and he hadn't even thought to ask her. Something about the way that she asked if they were still boyfriend and girlfriend made it seem as if she was hoping that the opposite was true.

"You okay?" She asked and squinted in confusion at the expression that crossed his face.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It's just...when you asked if we're still boyfriend and girlfriend I thought I was Jonathan for a sec."

"That?" She rolled her eyes. "That's nothing, Steve. We're just…" Her words fell silent on her lips and she stared hopelessly at him. "Well, what do you want me to say? You're never around and when you are you're so silent...and distant...like you're mind's not even there. You know, I had started to wonder if you were seeing someone else!"

"What? No!" It was his turn to stare hopelessly at her, for she had made a valid point. He hadn't made much of an effort to engage her or even seek her out in months. It was true: as she had sought out Jonathan in the void of their relationship he, too, had sought out somebody else. "You know what? Don't worry about it. You and Jonathan can have all the fun you want and you'll never hear from me again. Got it?"

"Steve...where are you going? Why do you have your bag with you?"

Steve turned around and began to walk backwards. He scrunched his bottom lip and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Have fun. Go to the dance. Whatever. I'm out."

"Steve? Steve!"

Billy was leaning against his car, hand cupped around a tiny orange flame. He didn't look up as Steve approached nor did he say anything as Steve set his bag down on the trunk of the vehicle.

"Well... tah-dah! Don't get too excited to see me" Steve said because the silence was weird.

Billy pinched the cigarette between his fingers and swung his hand down to his side. A white vapour trail shot from the shadow of his mouth and dispersed into the pitiful glow of the single flickering street light. Steve wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a purple shadow blooming along the edge of his jaw.

"Hey, man…you al-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Billy sprung at him and wrapped his arms around his waist. For a brief moment, his feet dangled above the ground as Billy picked him up and gave him a vigorous shake before setting him back down.

"Thought you were gonna wuss out on me, pretty boy."

"Nah, come on, we both know you need my pretty ass."

Billy smiled and bit his bottom lip in delight. He pulled Steve into a rough kiss, his fingers lost in the coils of Steve's hair. When he growled, it sent rumbles right through Steve's chest.

Steve pulled back, eyeing him hungrily, his cock already growing hard.

"Thought we were tryna get outta here. Where're the others?"

"Up ahead. Waiting for us. They can wait a little longer."

Billy swooped in to kiss Steve again but Steve stepped back in surprise. "Dude, what happened to your face?"

Billy caught Steve's wandering hand and pushed it aside. "Nothing."

"Did your dad hit you?"

"I said it's nothing. I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. An image of Neil pressing him against the door flashed across Billy's mind and he winced.

"Son of a bitch.." Steve said and Billy shrugged, sniffed, and rubbed his nose.

"All the more reason to get outta here."

"Yeah…"

They stood for a moment in silence. Steve's eyes roamed across Billy's face anxiously and Billy stared at him level, the faintest hint of annoyance showing in his eyes. The moment became awkward and Billy turned abruptly and reached into his own car. When he turned around again he was holding a plastic-wrapped bundle of roses.

"For the lady," he said jokingly as he pushed the flowers into Steve's chest. He leaned in again, the plastic wrap crackling loudly between their chests, and kissed him. "You know, I was thinking, pretty boy…"

"Go on…" Steve was curious but he felt his heart dropping at the same time. He didn't like the disingenuous look in Billy's eye. And he really didn't like the bluish-black mark that Neil had left on Billy's face.

"Well, it's our last day in this shit town. Let's make it special, eh?" Billy's breath ghosted Steve's ear and he said, "How 'bout a bite?"

Steve jumped back so suddenly that even Billy flinched. Steve laughed awkwardly and swiped his hand across his upper lip where cold sweat had begun to gather. "We...we talked about this." Please be joking, please say you're joking, please please please.

Billy's mouth cracked into a disproportionate smile. He laughed, Steve laughed, then Billy hooked his fingers in the fabric of Steve's shirt and lifted him, slightly. The roses dropped from his hands and hit the ground between their feet with a cacophony of crackling. Billy smashed his lips against his but Steve wasn't feeling it anymore. Steve pulled back, his face twisted in discomfort, and demanded that Billy let him go.

"You're really not joking, are you?" Steve said in dismay as he wiped a string of blood from his cheek. Billy had his thumbs hooked in his pockets. Shoulders hunched, eyes focused, he looked like a wolf waiting for his prey to make the wrong move. Steve backed away and moved to Billy's left, feeling it somewhat better to remain out of his direct line of sight. And still Billy's eyes followed him. His mouth remained set in a tight line.

"Thought you loved me, pretty boy."

"I do-"

"So bite me. One. Last. Time."

Have you ever tried telling him no? That's what Daniel had said. Steve steadied himself, looked Billy in the eye and said, "No."

Billy nodded. Steve couldn't tell if he was smiling or if it was just a trick of the shadows. Slowly, slowly, Billy bent down and picked up the bundle of flowers -

- and smashed them in Steve's face.

" You're gonna take away the one thing that matters to me?! "

Steve was reeling. Billy's voice was like thunder in his ears. Before he could collect himself, Billy hit him again and again. The rose thorns were like shrapnel cutting red-hot x's into his face. He staggered back and Billy charged him, his fingernails quickly finding the flesh of Steve's neck. Steve could see nothing but Billy's wild eyes as he punched him repeatedly in the face. Steve raised his arms and braced his wrists over his eyes in a desperate attempt to block the blows. He wanted to cry out but blood gushed over his tongue and all he could do was sputter in pain.

"You little bitch!" Billy punched him in the stomach and Steve heaved. " You! Little! Bitch! " Billy hit him in the eye and his vision went black. "You think I'm weak? Think I can't take it?! You just try and take everything from me!"

"Billy! I'm not your dad! I'm not your dad!" Steve cried out because he knew that Billy had gone to a different place. Though his knees pressed into Steve's side and his fingernails dug deep into Steve's scalp he was far away from him, in a place where Neil's shadow loomed and crackled, fetid, above everything that Billy held dear. Steve braced his palms against the wet earth and leveraged himself backwards from between Billy's legs. Billy's hands shot out and he caught Steve by the shoulders. His eyes were murderous as he leaned back and then, with the full force of his fury, slammed his forehead against Steve's.

That's when Steve lost consciousness.

When Steve opened his eyes again, Billy was still on top of him. Sweat - or spit - covered the side of his face. His knuckles grazed his messy mop of hair as he cocked his fist back. This time, Steve realized, he was set to kill. It's now or never, Steve thought. He caught the fist flying his way and jolted Billy's chin with an uppercut. Billy's head jerked back and Steve jumped up. Heart thumping, he planted his foot in the middle of Billy's chest and, with a quick shove, sent him tumbling backwards.

"What is wrong with you, man?!" He shouted as Billy scooted away from him, a shocked look on his face. "You're using me! Is this why Daniel left you, huh? Did you use him, too?!"

Billy said nothing. In that moment, he looked to Steve like a wounded puppy alarmed by its surroundings. Billy grabbed the handle of his car door and lifted himself up as Steve watched in shock. Before he knew what he was doing, Billy had thrown himself into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

"Sonofa-" Steve ran and hooked his fingers in the window frame. But the momentum was too much for him and, after being dragged along in the dirt for a few seconds, he was forced to let go. He fell backwards onto his ass and then quick as a flash stood back up again.

"I loved you," he cried out as he hurled broken rose stems at the retreating taillights. "I loved you, you fucking asshole!"