The Never Series

Never Two: Sarah Williams just bought an old Victorian house to celebrate her divorce from The-Good-For-Nothing that she just wasted the last few years of her life on, but she's about to find out that her new home comes with a few extra surprises, not the least of which is an enchanted canine. J/S AU

Genre: Romance, Fantasy

Rating: M

Never Sit On A Werewolf

Part One.

"So here he was, running this feather absentmindedly up and down my leg, and looking at the can a whip cream with a contemplative expression. I just wanted to scream, 'Do it, already!' but that devilish look was creeping onto his face, and that look always means trouble."

"Then what happened?"

"I woke up."

"Damn it!" Sarah glared at the phone in her hand.

Meg laughed, not bothering to cover the sound. "If you're going to live vicariously through others, you might want to make friends with some people that are actually dating," she managed between giggles.

Sarah glared harder, knowing now that her friend had been stringing her along throughout the whole story.

"Or," Meg drew out the word, something that always made the dark-haired woman suspicious, "you could find yourself a boyfriend, girlie."

This time she sighed. It was always the same argument between them. Meg never seemed to care much about her own dateless status, but it bothered her that Sarah was alone. 'The difference being that, out of the two of us, I'm the one who actually wants a boyfriend,' she thought to herself. Meg was content to be alone, "That's my lot in life," she had once explained. But it drove her nuts, absolutely batty, that Sarah burned for something more than the life of a spinster and wasn't getting it.

"After three consecutive good-for-nothings and a divorce, the last thing I want is to get involved with anyone," she finally replied. And it was true, in a way. She didn't want all the heartbreak and the stress that came with letting a man into her life.

"But you miss the companionship, don't you?" Meg guessed.

Unfortunately, that was exactly the problem. Sarah wanted the comfort of a man without any of the upkeep. "Maybe I should just get myself a cat," she mused.

The woman on the other end snorted. "You live alone in that creepy old Victorian, Sarah. People are going to start thinking you're a crazy cat lady. At least get something a little less spinsterish."

She frowned, "Like a dog, you mean?"

Meg shrugged, "Loyalty and unflagging affection; that's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes, but preferably in my own species," Sarah replied, looking around her home and trying to convince herself that it wasn't really that creepy. It was just… faded. The old Victorian had been left alone for a long time but it wasn't a lost cause, it just needed some fresh paint and a little TLC.

"Beggars can't be choosers, honey. You're the one who refuses to look for companions of the human variety, which definitely has a way of limiting your options, so you might as well compromise for one of our four footed brothers," Meg sighed.

Sarah stuck her tongue out at the phone, it was childish but it made her feel better. "I don't know why I even brought it up, I know I'd never actually get a pet. They need too much."

"Speaking of parasites," her friend interjected, "where's your ex these days?"

"In a ditch, if I'm lucky," she said before hanging up.

Those last words seemed to echo softly around her home, then silence reigned. And that was the problem with her house: it was too quiet. The Victorian hadn't been meant for silence, it had been built for music and laughter, for people and parties. But the Age of Opulence had died, taking all the life out of the place. Each room stood dark and empty, the vibrant silk wallpapers had faded to the point of dullness, the interesting glass wall fixtures stood empty of candles or light bulbs, and the windows were warped from age. It was apparent that someone had once tried to modernize the place, but they had either not known what they were doing or they had simply not cared enough to complete the project. Electric fittings ran through some of the rooms, allowing for lamps and other appliances, but not all of the rooms; there was no heating or cooling system, in the winters she would had to make use of the many fireplaces and in the summer she was going to open all the windows and pray it didn't get any hotter; as a matter of fact, the only real achievement that had been managed in full was the running water, and even that had a tendency to be a bit touchy.

The Victorian was a hodgepodge, neither modern nor ancient; it was stuck in an era long since past, yet desperately tried to keep up with the times. Perhaps that's what had drawn her to it, the fact that it didn't really seem to fit anywhere. She often felt that way herself, being an independent woman and yet wishing for the courtship of times gone by. To pick among suitors and know that there was not only attraction, but honor as well. That was her real problem with men these days: they had no honor. After so many failed experiences she couldn't quite bring herself to try again, at least not yet, but she did miss the companionship fiercely. Maybe Meg was right; maybe it was time to think about getting a pet.

Something clicked softly against the hardwood floor behind her.

Sarah froze; she normally considered herself a brave woman, willing to face all things head on, but she was almost afraid to turn around. After all, she did live alone in a secluded area, that would make dealing with an intruder problematic.

More clicking, getting closer, a brief scrape as something landed on the back of her sofa, and then… snuffling?

She finally turned around; her intruder was a large dog, resting his front paws on the back of her couch while he sniffed at her. For a minute her eyes darted around, looking for whoever the dog belonged to, but found nothing out of place. "How did you get in here?" she asked him softly.

His head cocked to the side, as though considering her words, then leaned forward to brush his muzzle against her cheek. Sarah quickly reared back, surprising both the dog and herself. He flopped to the ground, once more on all four, and regarded her curiously. For her part, she regarded him suspiciously. She had only had one dog while growing up, and he had already been so old by that point that her only real knowledge of dog behavior was that they slept a lot.

Of course, looking at this dog, she could tell that there were bound to be differences. Appearance alone was enough to marvel at. Merlin had been an average sized sheepdog, with shaggy fur in tones of white and gray. The dog before her was black and white, almost like a husky, but seemed almost too large for the breed; he did have those classic, icy blue eyes, though.

She stood up from the couch and slowly came around to the other side. The dog's tail wagged a few time, but for the most part he stayed still. "I'm warning you, no funny business," she said plainly, then turned her back on him to check all the doors. Every single one was shut and locked, there weren't any broken windows, and there certainly weren't any holes in her foundation large enough for a dog to sneak through. "How did he get in?" she wondered once more.

The dog was exactly where she had left him, Sarah noted once she returned to the living room. "All right mister, I don't know where you came from, but it's time that you went back," she said, opening the front door. He immediately sat down and looked away from her, a doggy refusal if she had ever seen one. "I mean it," she pressed, "I don't have what it takes to look after a dog, and I'm sure your owner is missing you." But he didn't have any tags, she noted to herself uneasily. What if he was a stray? "Out," she pointed, trying to shake the thought from her mind.

He simply laid down, a hundred plus pounds of muscle and fur and pure stubbornness.

"I'm not a dog person, I won't take care of you," she threatened; he yawned and began grooming his paws, ignoring her completely. "I'm not kidding," she warned desperately, "if you stay here you'll be on your own."

Looking back, Sarah now knew that she shouldn't have talked as though staying was an option, because it had only led to trouble. But, then again, how did one reason with a dog anyway? He was stronger than she was and simply wouldn't do anything he didn't want to which, unfortunately, included leaving her house. Her furry intruder had ignored her while she left the front door open—hoping that at some point he would just wander out—but the second she closed it he had snapped to attention, following her wherever she went, trying now and again to get her to pet him. She had done her best to ignore him, to make good on her threat, but he had made sad eyes at her throughout lunch and dinner, and she had caved both times enough to give him a small plate of food. She still hadn't pet him though; as a matter of fact, aside from the few times he had brushed against her, she hadn't touched him at all. She was rather hoping that he would want to leave if she didn't show him any affection. Still, she had made the mistake of feeding him, which had probably only been encouraging from his point of view.

She didn't want to rationalize his presence, didn't want to talk herself into keeping him. For all she knew, he already had an owner and he had just managed to slip his leash. 'No tags,' the thought floated through her mind once more. It was beginning to disturb her because, if he was a stray, would she really have it in her to toss him back onto the streets, or take him to one of those awful shelters? She had a feeling that even her stony heart would waver in that situation. Maybe she wasn't a true-blue animal lover, but she hated the thought of anyone's suffering, even when it was a dog. Still, she hoped that she found his home soon, or that he would simply decide to leave on his own, because she didn't want him around enough to grow on her. Dogs were the worst offenders when it came to quickly securing themselves into people's hearts and lives; if he didn't leave soon she had a feeling he never would.

Sarah sighed and rolled onto her back, bunching up the covers around her hips. She could hear him walking through the house, a quiet sentinel checking every room. Perhaps he had been someone's guard dog, she mused. The muffled clicking of his nails on the hardwood flooring came closer, until he was standing just inside her room. It was an eerie sight, if she were honest with herself; the room was dark and so the parts of him that were black faded into the night, while the parts that were white stood out. It looked as though he were made of shadows and moonlight, ethereal and majestic, standing in front of her door and looking at her with blue eyes that flashed through the darkness.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, as though considering something, then laid on the floor. The furry lump stayed there for at least half an hour, and in a strange way she was comforted by that fact, but in the very second before sleep claimed Sarah she felt him jump up on the bed and settle against her side.

Sarah was never really aware of entering consciousness. She had been sleeping soundly and then she was simply awake, bothered by the strange notion that she had been awake for quite some time; as though her brain had needed a couple extra moments to catch up with the rest of her. She sighed and rolled over; judging by the darkness of the room it was still night, which meant she still had time to sleep.

Her leg hit an obstruction.

With startling clarity, Sarah realized that the comforting weight of her doggy intruder was gone. Something else was sitting at the foot of her bed, and it wasn't a dog. In a jerky, panicked move she turned the bedside lamp on. Dim light flooded the room, lighting up the bed, but cast only shadows to anything beyond. It was eerie, but so was the situation.

She finally dared a look.

A man sat at the end of her bed, leaning casually against the footboard, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. In that split second as Sarah drew air into her lungs in preparation of an ear-splitting scream, she took in the oddities of the man. He had wild blond hair that glinted silver as it ghosted around his face in exotic falls. And what a face it was! All hard angles and a teasing smirk, his eyes shining a startling blue through the disarray of his bangs. And it was hard to tell with him sitting down, but he looked athletic, powerful but not in a bulky way. He was lean, and she could practically sense the coiled strength that wrapped around the muscles hidden beneath his clothes.

Clothes that made her pause.

Waking up to find a man she didn't know sitting on her bed was strange enough—not to mention terrifying—but waking up to find a man in riding clothes sitting on her bed? That was stranger still. He rested serenely against her footboard, looking for all the world like a man who was about to go out and enjoy a nice horse ride… about two centuries ago. His clothes were dated: high boots with a slight heel, tight breeches, crisp shirt with a high collar, snug waistcoat—he even had a riding crop, for crying out loud!

Sarah's pause ended in the blink of an eye. This man was obviously very deranged. Screaming wasn't likely to help, since she lived alone and her closest neighbors were quite a distance away, but it was an automatic reaction. Her lungs were full and she was ready to make as much noise as possible—maybe it would stun him into inaction or bring the dog running—but something feral was flashing through his eyes and, in a motion that seemed inhuman for its speed, he clapped a hand across her mouth before she could manage a single sound.

"Shhhh," he soothed lowly, "I mean you no harm, I swear it." She couldn't help but notice that he had a beautiful voice, the creep. It was the perfect blend of smooth vowels and a certain, inexplicable, guttural quality. Listening to that single utterance had been like being caressed by raw silk, it was sleek at first but it still had a bit of a rasp to it.

Sarah grabbed at his wrist, surprised when he allowed her to move his hand with no fight. "Get out," she said firmly. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing here, just get out."

He smiled strangely, a mischievous light burning in his eyes. "Your coaxing didn't work before," he said cryptically, "it won't work now."

And then, as if things hadn't been weird enough, her night got even weirder.

He turned into the dog.

Sarah had read her share of werewolf stories, seen enough of the movies to figure she had a grasp on what the genre was like. It didn't prepare her for the reality of it, didn't prepare her for the fluid, soundless transformation from man to canine. His muscles bunched, rearranging until he was the proper shape, all while silky fur overtook his body, covering him in black and a silvery white that wasn't too different from the color his hair had been. His eyes had changed shape, but remained the same arctic blue, one pupil slightly larger than the other. The riding clothes that he had been wearing simply evaporated off of him like mist, a steam that rose off his fur and disappeared into the night. The riding crop, however, remained, clenched in his mouth like a stick that had been retrieved—the solitary proof that her bizarre encounter had not been a dream.

With shaking fingers she picked up her phone, dialed as quickly as possible, and impatiently waited for a connection on the other end.

"It's three in the morning," came the groggy answer, "this had better be good."

"Meg," Sarah said, a hint of desperation in her voice, "I need you to come over. Right now."

"What's up," her friend was immediately alert, "did something happen?"

She shrugged even though she knew her friend couldn't see it. "I'll tell you later, just bring some of your herbs, and a leash if you have one."

"Sounds kinky, should I be worried?" Meg asked lightheartedly, but the muffled rustle of clothes betrayed her seriousness.

"Just do it, Meg," Sarah growled, then hung up the phone and turned back to her canine problem.

A/N: Okay, this one was actually pretty low on the polls, and I was thinking about taking it off altogether, when someone at The Harem (a Labyrinth/Bowie forum I am part of) posted a challenge prompt. I'm not sure why, or even how it made me think of this, but it did, so I'm ignoring the polls just this once. I promise that, after this one, I'll write the winner of the most recent polling (so be sure to vote before this story is over, if you haven't already).

This story is the first full on AU of the series, just so you know, meaning that the events of the movie never happened; that is not to say, however, that certain aspects of the movie won't play heavily into this story. Also, I've decided to break this one up into parts for easier reading, easier posting, and (hopefully) faster updates.

For those of you who have read Bodice Ripper, I'm a little sheepish to admit that Meg talks frighteningly like Liz Carver did.

I dedicate this story to my Harem sisters, both as an on-going answer to their challenge and as an apology for being gone for so long.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Labyrinth.