Chapter 13

Dylan arrived at the abandoned shack well before Tasha, and he went inside to grab some clothes from the small stash she had left for him. No doubt Tasha didn't want to take any chances on bringing Peter anywhere near the cabin until she could be sure it was safe. Dylan appreciated the lengths she went to for her son's safety.

Dylan did his best to clean his body now that he had access to some necessary supplies – Tasha had left a container of moist wipes, a jug of water, a soap bar, and a couple of towels. It all did wonders in helping him clean off the stubborn, crusted blood.

Some of that blood looked as though it had been on his skin for at least two days. The deer hadn't been his only meal. Dylan could only hope that there hadn't been any people on the menu during his three-day werewolf blackout.

Soon enough, he finished washing up and dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. He tugged on his socks and boots, then decided on a shave. One glance in the dirty mirror on this hovel wall revealed how scruffy he had gotten because the werewolf transformations sped up his human hair growth. He cleaned the mirror then got to work smearing shaving cream on his face. His thick, dark whiskers dulled two disposable razors.

"This must be how Banner feels about his shirts and boots. Always replacing them." He thought. He had given little regard to Dr. David Banner since going rogue on Ida. He wondered if the good Doctor was still stuck catering to the wolf princess.

"Most likely, he seems like the gallant type," Dylan grumbled as he packed away his belongings. However, the same could be said about how he'd watched over Tasha and Peter.

His stomach and heart jumped, thinking of seeing his woman and the boy again.

Dylan sighed and zipped up his bag. Since when had he started thinking of Tasha that way? Did he genuinely consider her a girlfriend? She wasn't entirely his lover yet. Time and circumstances hadn't allowed intimacy, and Dylan couldn't afford to go that far. They needed each other, each for different reasons, and he'd developed a fondness for her kid. That's all that could be for now.

His hands instinctively reached for his gun when he heard a door shrilly creak open, its hinges in dire need of some DW-40.

"Dylan? Are you here?" Tasha whispered.

"Right here, in the flesh… not the fur," Dylan answered with a smirk.

Tasha smiled, relieved, and stepped in with Peter cradled against one shoulder, and at least three bags clutched in her other hand. She quickly lowered the bags on the floor and turned to look at him. "You… you look good." Her eyes lingered on his sculpted chest a moment longer, and then she averted her gaze shyly.

Dylan glanced down, realizing he hadn't put his shirt on. He made a move to grab it but decided not to bother. "Yeah, you look good too," he said honestly, gazing from her wavy blond hair down the purple plaid shirt she knotted at her slim waist and her hip-hugging dark denim pants.

"Are you and Peter okay? I get the feeling this boy will be permanently traumatized before long."

"We're okay. We spent the night in the motel in Dartmouth. I made sure we washed up and ate a filling meal before we came." Tasha dug into her backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag. "I got you a breakfast sandwich to go, and there's coffee in the car."

Despite having gorged himself on wild animals for three days, Dylan's human appetite emerged as he smelled the eggs and bacon. "Appreciate it. Good thinking. Take advantage of the perks of civilization while you have access to them."

Dylan checked the stash that Tasha had left for him, noting the medicine, cash, and the other things Ida had supplied him. He still had most of the massive wad of money he had withdrawn from his bank account a few days ago. He had given Tasha money to use until he was able to return.

"Where's my arsenal?" Dylan finally asked.

Tasha looked a little uncomfortable. "They're right outside, but I locked them up in the trunk."

Dylan nodded. "I'm gonna need those if we come across any of those damned rejects, but for the moment, they can stay in there." He could understand why she didn't want the kid anywhere near them.

"How are you feeling?" Tasha stepped closer, taking care not to jostle her son too much.

Dylan shrugged. "Same way I always do. Though I feel like I just woke up from sleepwalking for three days."

"Are you hungry? I just assumed and got breakfast. Some of our test subjects would be ravenous after transformations."

He grimaced. "I sorta am, but the wolf already ate… you don't want to know what."

Tasha was already well familiar with Sarah's eating habits when they had lived together for a while. "I'm not surprised or shocked by it, Dylan… just as long as you didn't eat people."

"I have no idea… I don't think so." He winced. "I hope not. All I know is that I woke up next to a deer carcass this morning."

"Okay, enough said." Tasha set Peter down on the makeshift bed and gave him his favorite toys. Once he settled, she gazed at Hunter again. "I missed you these last couple of nights."

"I… can't say if I've thought of you one way or another. I don't know what the wolf's thinking. But," Dylan quickly supplied, "I am glad to see you now."

Tasha's face felt warm. She bit her lip, wanting to say something, but instead, she quickly got up and made sure the door was latched tightly shut. "Have you taken your serum yet?" she asked.

"Not yet. Thanks for the reminder. You're always taking care of me." At that, Dylan dug up the liquid capsules and popped one into his mouth.

A short, awkward silence ensued as they stared carefully at each other, and Dylan inched closer to her face. Tasha leaned toward him and their noses faintly touched. A large bird screeched outside, shattering the moment, and Tasha sat back abruptly.

"So, what are we gonna do next?" She broke the ice.

"The only thing we can do," Dylan supplied, wanting to wring that bird's neck, "is stay out of sight as much as possible and, if we find any other werewolves … I'll kill them."

Tasha looked up, worried. "Even Sarah?"

Dylan's eyes narrowed. "She's still a werewolf."

"But Dylan, she's different. I've seen her. I even lived with her for a while. She has full control over her wolfism."

"She's still potentially dangerous and unpredictable. Plus, she's got the venom." Dylan crossed his large arms.

"Dylan, let's leave her alone. She won't deliberately hurt…"

He shook his head firmly. "She turned my brother into a freak of nature! The only way I'll spare Sarah is if she agrees to cooperate with us in a plan to go after Ida. Otherwise, if we find her and if she shows any aggressive tendencies toward you or Peter…" Dylan let that hang in the air.

Tasha's heart swelled at his protectiveness, but she shook her head. "I don't think she would harm Peter, Dylan. She and David Banner helped to save him."

"You said she bit Banner when provoked. Then her venom infected Lance." Dylan's eyes narrowed. "In my mind, she's already an inhuman lab rat. She needs to get put down. I did it to my own family. I can do it to her." At Tasha's sad gaze, Dylan put a hand on her arm. "You only feel sorry for her because she lived with you."

Tasha lowered her gaze. "Yes, but…"

"But what?"

Tasha gulped. "I got to know her and watch over her in Esben's lab. I have a clinical attachment because I spent more time with her than I did with anyone else, though she was often standoffish."

Dylan's hand involuntarily tightened around Tasha's arm. "Scientists get attached to their favorite lab animals," he growled softly. Seeing Tasha's worried eyes, he quickly let go of her arm. "Tasha, you can't feel sorry for these monsters. If you let down your guard around them, even for a minute, you might become the next inhuman mutant-like Lance, or you may end up dead. You or Peter. I won't let that happen."

Tasha frowned. "Dylan, I trust you. I've agreed to stay, and I'm here now. Are you trying to tell me that being around you is a mistake? I won't believe it."

Dylan turned away. "I'm not a lab rat. But it might be if we're not careful."

She reached for his arm. "Dylan, we can work things out, and …"

He moved out of reach and turned, holding up a finger. "Don't. You shouldn't…" His voice cracked. He spoke with rough emotion. "Don't make this more than what it is already, Tasha."

Tasha felt hurt. "Why not? There's already a bond between us, Dylan. If you didn't care, you would've left Peter and me to die. You wouldn't have kissed me." She could tell he tried hard to keep a barrier between them, and she was sick of it.

"Give me the keys to the trunk. I need to check over the weapons." He held out his hand toward her.

She didn't move. "Not until you tell me why. Is it just because you're a werewolf?"

"'Just' because? Tasha! Does it even matter to you that I could infect you? I could KILL you! I could kill Peter!"

"Not if we're cautious, you said so yourself. Look at us right now. We're alright. We did well last night."

Dylan seemed to let that sink in a little as he gazed upon Peter's curled up, sleeping form. Something inside of him softened. He found himself becoming attached to this family, and he wanted to be part of this family.

It took him a moment to realize that Tasha had drawn near again. He savored the warmth of her hand against his bare chest, feeling like he could draw strength from her presence if he would let her stay close.

He stiffened, closing his eyes, but found he couldn't pull away. "Yes," he finally said.

"Yes, what?"

"It has something to do with my werewolfism. And what happened to my wife and my son."

Tasha's eyes widened. "I thought you told me a wild, rabid wolf killed your son… and you never said what happened to your wife."

Dylan growled, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it away from her chest so suddenly she squeaked in alarm. "It was a werewolf that killed my son! It happened in Europe, in Norway. I later found and killed that bastard. I put a silver bullet between his eyes and tossed his bloody corpse back into his cave, but not before he got me. He nearly tore my limb off." He indicated a faint scar on the space where his shoulder and arm connected, a thin white outline. It was the only scar that had ever remained from any kind of injury on his body.

Tasha eyed him warily but stood her ground. She could understand why he might have chosen to omit some details. "What happened to your wife?" she asked softly. "It's okay to talk about it, Dylan. All that time we worked for Esben, I always sensed something eating away at you. But you put up a wall then too."

Dylan completely turned his back on her but sighed and answered after a long moment. "Jessica… she tried to take care of me after the bite. She was a nurse. She kept the injury clean, she changed my bandages, and she kept me cool when I got sick and feverish." A shudder rolled through his body. "Neither of us was expecting it when I transformed for the first time. I had no control and killed her."

Dylan's large shoulders slumped, and tears welled in his eyes. He felt Tasha's arms enfold him as she approached him from behind. She put her hands against his chest and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Dylan. Now I can understand."

Tasha felt the tension in his muscles ease under her touch. She rubbed his shoulder, feeling the scars and contours of where flesh and bone had once been damaged but mended.

She kissed the scars.

Dylan pulled back, startling her a little, but then turned to face her and pull her close into an embrace. He hesitated for a moment, nuzzling his nose and lips over her face, and she leaned her head back as his mouth gently roamed her neck. He soon pressed his lips against hers, softly at first, then more deliberate, his kisses filled with passion and longing.

After what seemed like a blissful eternity, they finally stirred and caught their breath when they heard Peter fussing softly, asking for his mother. Dylan caressed Tasha's cheek and gently held her chin.

"Take care of him. I'll go look at the arsenal."

She nodded, still in a dream-like state, and slipped the car keys into his hand. Tasha came back to her senses when Peter called her a little louder, and she knelt beside him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sarah had found herself wandering almost aimlessly through the woods, even if she was fully aware of her present location. Due to a keen awareness of the forest and her sensitive nose, she never went in circles or crossed through the same area twice. Sarah avoided areas where she detected her scent trail. After all, why go back and revisit the same spots she'd already been? Sarah wasn't hunting or trailing anything. She was trying to explore the world anew, whatever may lay beyond the forest.

Sarah couldn't say she got lost at any point in time, but could you get lost if you didn't have any real direction to travel or a particular destination in mind?

In her mind's eye, Sarah knew she was pretending to impress Lucan by using her ears and nose to navigate the woods without overlapping herself or disturbing anything whatsoever, even though Lucan was nowhere in the vicinity.

Some small part of her hoped he would appear out of the shadows. She had hoped that he might choose to pursue her instead of going to that cursed lab location to find information about his father?

She also imagined David's face as she kept traversing, his warm, keen eyes watching with concern and pride as she began to emulate his life over the last five years by moving on toward the unknown. Sarah wished David had secretly followed her, too. She wanted him to observe and be proud of her, especially after how many mistakes she'd made that ended up hurting him and his sister.

It was all daydreaming on her part. Sarah wasn't sure what else to do yet amid the loneliness. She had been alone before when she lived with Tasha before she met David. Traveling now should be no different than when she took off in the forest for days in a time.

So why was it different and challenging to let go?

Sarah now knew what it was like to have friends who were similar to her and understood her and accepted her for what she was. Now they were gone, and she headed in her a new direction. They had all scattered.

Had it been the best idea to leave them so soon? She hadn't had a choice, thanks to Agatha, Prentiss, and eventually, McGee. Sarah could have gone with David, but to what end? Where would they go next? Helen's house had been the only place where they could hide-out, rest, and be accepted. There was nowhere else.

Sarah gritted her teeth as she leaned against a tree trunk, clenching her fist tightly around the strap of her knapsack. It was a different sense of loss than when her parents died, and she submitted herself to Esben's experiments.

A sense of fear and horror rose in her as she imagined seeing Esben step out from the center of a clump of trees, replaying a memory of that fateful day when he'd initially approached her, back when she was still human, and she'd agreed to his terms.

"Come with me, Sarah," he coaxed her, "I can give you a soft bed and plenty of food to eat tonight. Some money for your trouble. All I ask is one simple favor. I need to test a new type of medication out on you. Think of it as a health booster. We can go over those details later. Come on. You're cold and shivering out here…"

The memory shattered with a sudden, aggressive vision of black fur and the enormous werewolf who'd eaten Esben right in front of her.

The very idea of eating a person appalled her. Sarah shut her eyes, trying to clear out the memories and focus on the present. She wanted to let herself feel more tuned with the forest and pick a direction that might lead to a new area where there were people and buildings.

Her senses picked up the signs of animals. Her stomach growled as she observed an owl swooping down to successfully catch a mouse, while a bobcat snagged a rabbit and proudly picked it up to take to its den where its mewling offspring waited anxiously.

Funnily, both the owl and the bobcat could serve as decent meals themselves, so the wolf inside her thought. But she wouldn't deprive the barely weaned kittens of their mother; it wasn't fair to them when they hadn't grown big enough to learn how to hunt yet. As for the owl, it was already long gone and probably perched somewhere high in a tree by now. Ah, the benefit of having wings.

Sarah gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep marching, her mouth pressed in a determined line. She still remembered what happened when she went after that damned hog before she and David went to Helen's house. It seemed like an eternity ago now. But since she didn't have the benefit of an apartment or bathroom, she couldn't risk sullying herself. She would have to remain a human and act like one. Not unless she planned to live in the woods.

Eventually, the trees thinned, and the ground changed from soil, leaves, and dirt pathways into solid concrete and pavement. One glimpse of the sky and the sunrise and Sarah realized she'd walked all night, the wolf inside her wide awake the entire time.

She permitted herself a yawn but refused to give in to the temptation of sleep. Humans didn't sleep during the day.

She kept walking, still having no idea what she was doing or where she was going. If David gave any indication, he would pick a random direction and travel until he found something unless he had a specific destination. There would always be something out there. You just had to keep going until you struck gold and stick with whatever you could get until circumstances forced you to move on.

Sarah froze in mid-step, hearing a commotion at a nearby diner. A large, plump, and balding man wearing an apron and a black-haired, twenty-something woman wearing a waitress's outfit argued back and forth.

Judging from the argument, which Sarah heard with her sensitive ears even from ten meters away, the waitress was miserable because she was the only person "doing any real work" to please and serve the customers. The man, who was the only cook working there, took mild offense and stated that he worked his butt off cooking all of the food, and he never left the kitchen.

The argument escalated almost unintelligibly until the woman yelled "YOU JUST TELL SAM I QUIT" so loudly that Sarah was sure she would've heard it even without her special hearing. With that, the waitress marched off in a metaphorical cloud of smoke without looking back.

Sarah crossed the street very tentatively and slowly walked by the chef, trying to look like she just happened by. She pressed her lips, swallowing back some of the excess salivae that formed in her mouth when she smelled food. Down, girl, she thought sternly to the wolf inside her. Food was aplenty here, but none of it was for her, at least not for free.

Judging from the wry look the man gave her, she wasn't as carefree as she thought.

"You saw all that, did ya?" he said, confirming it.

Sarah looked a little bashful. "Yeah. She quit, huh?"

"Yes, and Sam is gonna have my hide if I don't get the food cooked, but I can't be back there in the kitchen and serve all those people at the same time. But if they don't get served soon, they'll walk out!" He ran his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. "I need this job, but I can't do everything by myself. I'm bound to get fired soon anyway if we lose too many customers."

"Why would you get fired?" Sarah asked. "It's not your fault you don't have enough help."

"Truth is, this place is quickly going under." The man leaned closer to her ear, as though not wanting to risk anyone else – especially the boss – hearing. Sarah balked slightly at his sudden proximity, though she refrained from telling him that she could probably hear him just fine even if he whispered.

"Truth is, Sam has always dreamed of having his own business, and he finally got one. But he doesn't have the sense for business. He's no good at it, but he's stuck now. He can't tell everybody he failed; he needs the money to support himself and his daughter."

"What about his wife? Does she work?"

The man shook his head. "She died from cancer a few years ago. He blames himself for not insisting that she take better care of herself or getting her to a doctor sooner."

Sarah's eyes softened. In a way, that sounded familiar. "So you work for him?"

"Yes, I do… he's my brother."

That explained the cook's loyalty, at least. Hadn't she been the idiot who stayed far longer at the former Holtan family farm, partly for James? Even if she had desired to sleep in her old bedroom again, and her unwillingness to move on from the past.

"So there's nobody else working here?"

"Well, he did give his daughter a job here, but –" The man caught himself, as though not wanting to say anything in that area. "She just works here to earn money for her cosmetics and fancy clothes." Something about his expression darkened and hinted at whatever it was he wasn't saying. "My name's Joe, by the way."

"Sarah." They shook hands briefly, even if Sarah snatched her hand away a bit too fast.

Joe barely seemed to notice, as he had something pressing to ask her. "Look, ah… are you by any chance looking for work?"

"Yes, I am." Sarah couldn't resist grimacing. Was she seriously going to go in there and be around a lot of food she couldn't have herself? Waitressing was going to be an exercise in self-control for the hungry wolf within her.

"Sam isn't here right now, but I need help to serve all these people." The desperation was evident in Joe's voice. "If you can help me out for today at least, I give you my word I'll make sure you get a full day's pay even if Sam doesn't hire you. And a free meal!"

Sarah thought about it briefly. The free meal was even more of a deal maker than the money at this point.

"Okay, I'll give it a shot." she agreed, figuring she had nothing to lose. Even if she were lucky this first time, a job wouldn't always fall in her lap quite so quickly.