"Yo, greenie!"

"I'm not a damned greenie," Breckin retorted, glaring at Vince, a cocky boy who worked with the Builders. "You know my name's Breckin. It's on the wall," he added, waving a hand. The day after his coming-to-the-Glade party, Alby had Breckin carve his name into the wall; he had choosen a spot that was a little away from the others.

"You're still new, so, yeah, I'm gonna call you greenie. Anyways," he continued dismissively, "Alby is looking for you."

"Where is he?"

"In the med-hut," was all Vince would say as he marched past Breckin, heading to the watchtower.

Breckin glared after him for a moment then gathered the strips of cloth bandages that had been drying in the sun. Sighing quietly, he made his way back to the med-hut.

A week had past since he started helping Newt. Every night after dinner Breckin would go to the med-hut and allow himself to be used as a crutch. The task did not annoy or bore him. In fact, since Clint and Jeff vouched for him to be a med-jack, Breckin had spent many hours with the injured teen.

Alby was talking to Newt when Breckin walked into the building. He said a greeting, setting the bandages on the small table near the cubbies. "Vince said you needed me?" he asked as he started neatly folding the bandages.

The second-in-command nodded. "Yes." He walked over to Breckin; there was something off about him.

Breckin tensed. "What about?" He had done nothing wrong that he was aware of.

Alby shot a quick glance at Newt then leaned closer to Breckin. "Tonight, I need you to stay in the slammer."

Breckin stopped his folding. "What? What have I done?"

"It's a precaution," Alby said.

"For what?" Breckin felt a pinch in his stomach. The way Alby's eyes were shifting a bit... There was something going on, and it made Breckin worry.

"I can't tell you here. After you are done, go to the slammer." Then Alby pivoted on his heel and went back to Newt, who was staring at Breckin with unabashed curiosity.

Breckin gulped, still feeling quite unsure of himself. Quickly, he finished folding the bandages and put them in their cubby spot. He said a good-night to Newt; the other teen returned it as if he had been asking a question. Alby walked with him as they left the med-hut and went to the slammer. Breckin's shoes dragged in the dirt. His relunctance must have been obvious; Alby paused at the door to the slammer and turned to look at Breckin.

"It's just for tonight." Alby unlocked the door and held it open. Breckin did not go in. "I'll explain everything once you get in."

Frowning, Breckin did as he was told. Alby shut and locked the door behind him. Breckin stared out at him through the vines and poles. "Why?"

Alby glanced around. No one was within sight of the slammer. The he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. "This was in the Box when you came to the Glade. It was addressed to me, and I thought it had somehting to do with me. It doesn't. It has to do with you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Alby said with a nod. He unfolded the paper and scanned the contents. "I guess the creators wanted to warn me about a potential problem." His dark eyes lifted to look at Breckin. "It's instructions. I'm to place you in the slammer every full moon."

"Every full moon?" Breckin echoed. "What the shuck does that mean?"

"It says you were injected with something before you were brought here. Something dangerous called the Alpha Moon serum."

Breckin stared at the second-in-command. "What kind of klunk is that?"

Alby shrugged. "I don't know. But it says the serum is triggered on full moons, and we have to lock you up." He looked down at the paper again. "It also said I was not to tell Nick. This was just to stay between you and me."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"Apparently it turns you into some kind of monster."

Breckin blinked dumbly for a moment. "A what?"

"A monster." Alby shrugged again. "We'll just have to see."

"We?"

"I rested all afternoon so I can stay up to witness this... reaction." Alby re-folded the paper and stuck it back in his pocket. "I'll be back. If this is really going to happen, then take off your shoes. The creators don't send them up often." Then he left.

Breckin stared after him, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the vines he was clutching. Alpha Moon serum? What kind of messed up klunk was that? A monster? Breckin's body twitched. The creators must have had a great time injecting him with potentially dangerous stuff.

With nothing to do, Breckin sat down on the dirt floor, legs stretched out before him, back against the vines. He waited in silence for Alby to return, removing his shoes and socks as the second-in-command had recommended. The Glade slowly started to darken as the sun finally went down behind the Western stone wall.

"It's almost time."

Alby's voice made him jump. Breckin fell over onto the ground in a heap. "Shuck!" he hissed. He glared at Alby through the vines. "Asshole."

The second-in-command had a chair from the Homestead, and a stained bag in the other. He set up the chair so he could see clearly into the slammer. "How do you feel?"

"Annoyed," Breckin growled, getting to his feet. "I don't like it in here."

"It's just for tonight," Alby promised, sitting down with the bag in his lap. He glanced up at the sky; a faint light was starting to peek over the eastern wall. He opened the bag and withdrew a notebook and a pen.

Breckin cocked his head, annoyance giving way to curiosity. "What's that for?"

"I'm taking notes," Alby replied.

"Why?"

"In the instructions the creators listed a few things that should calm you down if you become too animalistic. I'm going to write what I observe then compare notes."

"So I'm just an experiment?" Breckin asked, narrowing his eyes.

Alby shook his head. "Don't think about it like that."

"Kind of hard not to," Breckin retorted.

The glow from the moon strengthened as it floated over the wall.

It happened almost instantly.

A crawling itch in his arms grabbed Breckin's attention, like a bug was on him. He looked down and swatted at his left arm. Nothing was there... A hiss passed his lips as a pain staretd in his hands. His eyes widened as his fingernails started to grow and sharpen themselves into a fine point. Burning electricity shot through him. Breckin doubled over, arms crossing over his stomach, until his legs seemed to turn to jello. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Pops and cracks filled his ears, and he whined low in his throat. His eyes closed.

"Holy shuck," said a breathy voice from somewhere beyond the barrier of pain.

Breckin whimpered.

The pain receded slowly.

What the hell - ?

What had happened to him?

He opened his eyes and was met with something that sent terror to his heart.

His hands...

His hands were larger - a lot larger! And covered in long light brown hair. His nails were long black claws. He brought a clawed hand to his face. His mouth and nose had been elongated into some sort of half-muzzle. He dipped his index finger in his mouth, and felt that his canine teeth had grown and sharpened. He removed his hand, whimpering again.

"Breckin?"

His eyes drifted upward to Alby; the second-in-command's face was pressed against one of the many small openings the vines created. His dark eyes were wide, leaving a ring of white around the irises.

Slowly Breckin pushed himself to his feet. The clothes he had on were tight, only his jacket still hung a bit loose on his broadened shoulders. He looked down and felt a slight wave of dizziness. Apparently he had gained quite a few inches from whatever happened to him. His jeans were tight against his now muscled legs. The same brown hair that was on his arms was poking out from the cuffs. His feet had broadened and were also covered in the same hair. Black claws had replaced his toenails.

"I guess that serum is no joke," Alby said. "How do you feel?"

Breckin opened his mouth to talk, but his tongue would not form words. Somehow he knew he could not speak in this form, as if the creature had taken his human speech. Instead, he hung his head and whimpered quietly. Some part of him felt like there was something missing. There was a hole in his torso, in his heart. He whined, bringing a hand up to his now barrel chest.

"Here." Alby was pushing some kind of cloth through the vines. "The instrustions said this should help."

Careful so he didn't shred it with his new claws, Breckin took the offered clothing. It was a muscle shirt, burnt orange and reeking of what he guessed sunshine would smell like. Breckin whimpered, bringing the top to his face and inhaling the scent. The pain in his chest calmed a bit. Somewhere in his mind, Breckin knew the smell meant something to him. But what, he did not know.

"Wow." Breckin opened his eyes to look at Alby. The older teen was still staring at him in disbelief. "The creators weren't wrong."

Breckin cocked his head in confusion.

Alby must have recognized the look on his deformed face. "In the instruction, it said that you can be calmed by something that belongs to someone very important to you." He gestured to the top still clutched in Breckin's claws. "That's... Uh. That's Newt's."

What?

Breckin growled in confusion.

What was he saying? Did Newt mean something to him?

"The creators wrote that Newt was special to you. As in, very special."

Breckin snorted, looking back down at the orange top. Of course Newt was very special to him. The injured teen had become a close friend. That's why he spends hours after dinner helping him strengthen his leg. Seeing Newt make progress, even if it was a little at a time, was something special to Breckin.

"Listen, Breckin, I don't know any easy way to say this." Alby rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Newt is uh... He's..." Alby sucked in a deep breath, as if preparing himself. He dropped his hand and stared at him. "Breckin, he's your partner, man. Your mate."

. . .

WHAT?!

His head snapping up almost painfully, Breckin stared at Alby. Did he just hear that correctly? Newt was his... His... No. No-no-no. There was no way in - Really? This... This was all a joke... Right?

Alby reached into his pocket. He withdrew then unfolded that damned piece of paper. "...'When Breckin is in his monster-skin, he may become restless and possibly dangerous. The best way to ensure he does not go full animal is to either have his mate or something that has his mate's scent made available to him. In this case, Newt or something with his scent needs to be presented to Breckin.' It says it right there, man." Alby returned the paper to his pocket. "You and Newt are... life partners, or some klunk like that."

With a mighty thump, Breckin dropped to the ground. His mind was reeling from the information Alby had just given him. Newt was his... his life partner, mate, whatever. He shook his head, confused and frustrated, but a shadowy part in his mind seemed to be howling with pure joy. When he fell, he had dropped the sleeveless shirt. He carefully picked it up and looked at it. Newt had worn it yesterday. The burnt orange stood out against the off-white of the medical blankets.

"I don't have a problem with it, just so you know."

Breckin looked up at Alby. The second-in-command was leaning against the wall of the slammer, arms draped through a couple holes. His dark eyes were no longer shining with fear; he was just calmly observing Breckin.

"The paper says your mind is still human," Alby said. "As long as you feel sane enough not to attack the others, you can transform in the Deadheads next time." Alby glanced up at the full moon. "We'll have to keep track of the moon cycle though. And keep this a secret from Nick."

Breckin nodded.

"Should we let Newt know about this, and the... partner thing? I'm going to leave that up to you."

Breckin was already shaking his head before Alby finished talking. There was no way he was going to speak about this to Newt. He didn't want to scare him or have his friendship rejected. A whimper passed his lips.

"It'll be okay, Breckin," Alby promised. "We won't say anything to him, but, eventually, we'll have to."