"So I'm not the only one with… a gift?" He asked timidly. To which I shook my head, still smiling.

"Nick is the only normal pack member I lead." I said, scratching the back of my head as I thought of the gaggle of misfits I'd somehow acquired over the years. And out of all of them, Nick was the only normal person. He didn't read minds, control plants, or have a violent power with his hair.

"So what can you do?" He asked, honestly curious. He leant against a great oak tree that was withered, but was now thriving in his company. The bark thickened and turned a golden brown. Broken twigs and half-fallen leaves were now standing erect and beautifully on every branch. In my opinion, Alan had the most beautiful gift I'd ever seen. Which made me feel self-conscious of the gift Angela and I shared.

"I read minds." I said simply. My feeble gift was very useful in some situations, but it would never be as dramatic as his. Not that I envy him or anything. I can't imagine how growing plant life uncontrollably would help in a hunting trip, or in a fight.

Though, as unamazing as I thought my gift was, he seemed a little enthused about it. "Really?" He asked, a bright smile stretched across his face and his green eyes lit up like emeralds. "Have you ever tried playing poker with your gift?" He asked.

That was a good idea, and one I hadn't thought of before, but the truth was, "No one here would ever want to play with me, or Angela."

"What can she do?"

"Same thing."

"That's a weird coincidence." He stated.

"Trust me, it's not a coincidence, and it's not something I want you asking her about either. Just, trust me."

He nodded, and before he could ask his third question, I decided to answer all of the questions that plagued his mind at once.

"Emily can possess people, and instead of just having a wolf form when she changes, she can alternate between a full-blooded witch, and back at will." I said, cringing and rubbing my sides as I thought about it.

"Is she strong?" He asked. He must've felt something in the way I moved at the remembrance of that horrible night. And without a word, I pulled up my shirt. And showed him the reason I even wore a shirt.

There were hundreds of paper thin scars that ran along my ribs and across my chest and back. And then there were two great scars, the size of two rulers set side by side. Those were from when she twisted them together. It really didn't take me long to want to hide them again.

"You've got more rings than Saturn!" He said, in awe of my battle scars.

I chuckled a little, half in pain of remembering those tiny fibers cutting into me.

Though, thankfully Emily was finally alright with her second form. Though she was always quick to change back the minute she felt boredom creeping in on her. We'd found out early on that if she gets bored, the strands of hair will start to do whatever they wanted, and when you've got thousands of yards of hair shooting out in all directions, tearing apart the scenery… well, you'll really want to prevent it.

She usually just uses that form to keep stray mutts away.

A problem we haven't really had. All I knew was that when a mutt starts making trouble, you can either scare him away, which was my philosophy, or you could kill them, which was every one else's philosophy. There was just something about killing people that made me feel… like I wouldn't want to stop after I'd started. There was a definite fear of control there, something that had almost taken Emily's life twice, and Tony's, (whose little girl they'd brought down to spend a week with us before traveling across Mexico.)

Tony was a man I didn't really know. But after almost killing a man, you kind of feel guilty for bringing him any harm. Besides, he was a good guy. His wife Beatrice was a gem, and their little daughter was just cute as could be.

"So that's why my mom sent me to you." He said, musing to himself. "That's what she must've meant when she said you were special."

I really doubted that. With everyone and their mother back at Marcus's knowing how my true form looked; I was fairly sure what she meant. But, I kept myself quiet about it. Instead, I turned back to the original reason I'd followed him out here in the first place.

"So what were you going to do out here?" I asked, feeling a little more like a parent than an older brother. I guess that's something I'll have to shake off.

"I just like the woods around here." He replied. Not a single hint of a lie on him. But I was still skeptical. I loved the woods out here too, but not enough to just shut myself away from everyone inside to walk through it alone.

"I know what you mean. Well, kind of." I said, forgetting the fact that he hadn't yet changed. "The smell is richer here. It's more defined."

He looked lost.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now let's get you back inside, and you can tell Angela how good of a big brother I am." I said smiling.

"Do you really think what I have to say is going to change the fact that she's mad at you?" He asked. A smile planted on his face.

"Your right."

I finished off the Chinese food, and ate the last of the stuffing that was still in the fridge before going to bed. Fortunately, having seen us laughing together as we came back into the house, Angela had decided to forgive me. And as I lay down in my comfortable, king-sized mattress, I relaxed.

At least until the phone rang.

It was almost three in the morning, and when I answered it, I couldn't have been any more surprised.

In an angry growl over the other line of the phone, Marcus yelled, "Where's the boy!"

At almost three, no one wants to be yelled at. And with the short fuse cut even shorter by the time of night, I yelled back, awaking Angela.

"Don't yell at me!"

He seemed to be stressed out completely. But after a few labored breaths, he was able to talk like a normal person once again.

"Where's the boy?" He asked calmly.

"Grandpa, it's almost three here, can't this wait for morning?" I complained, not wanting to have to deal with this just yet. I knew eventually that he'd be furious that Alan's mother sent him to me instead of trusting his grandson to him. And I knew it would fall on me. What surprised me though, was that it took him three days to find out he was here.

"No this can't wait!" He was yelling again. "Do you have any idea how weak I look with a runaway child?"

Truth was, I didn't. What I think was really pissing him off so badly, was that his mother had instigated this. She saw him as he was. A collector, rather than a natural leader.

"Listen, Marcus." I began, trying not to yell. "He's here, he's fine, and when he finally changes, we'll let him decide where he wants to stay, okay?"

"NO!!!"

I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Angela gave me an angry look, and before I could blame the noise on Marcus, she'd shoved me off the bed, pulled the covers over her head, and pointed towards the door.

Dammit, Marcus!

"And why the hell not? He's not a mutt; he's not even a werewolf yet! Give him some room to grow."

"Don't try to bullshit me, Michael! You know just as well as I do that when he finally changes, he'll follow you to the end of the earth!" Whereas it was insulting to have him disgrace me like that, he was right. I knew it instantly. It was the whole reason that Alan's mother sent him to me.

"Look. I'm putting him in school, feeding him, clothing him, and giving him shelter. I'm doing you a favor! Besides, he's not one of your little collectables, he's your grandson!"

He was quiet on the other side.

"Please don't make this more trouble than it has to be, Marcus. It's what his dying mother wanted."

"Dead." His voice was cold. It sounded devoid of any compassion for a woman with cancer, and if I suspected right, there was a hint of malice…

And I was transfixed by what he'd said. "Pardon."

"She's dead."

"That's not right for someone to die so quickly from cancer, Marcus!" I yelled, leaning against the kitchen counter nearest the fridge. Cancer doesn't kill someone after three days of a diagnosis, no matter how strong it was. Which after a long silence between us, made me ask, "What did you do?"

"Michael, she was a traitor to send that boy to you!" He yelled, instantly defending himself.

"Shut up, Marcus! Just shut up!" I yelled.

It took me a while to calm down and assess the situation, and a lot more to keep me from garnering that rage into something violent. And after I opened my mouth, I found that I hadn't changed anything at all. "You killed a woman with Cancer! You killed your grandson's mother!" I said, trying to convince him of the evil that he'd committed. "Why?! What did that accomplish?!"

There was a click as he hung up, and there was nothing left in me to keep me from slamming the phone into the floor. The tiles cracked under its pressure and the cordless phone splintered into a thousand plastic shards. The battery skidded under the table, and the rest of it was littered around me.

"GOD DAMMIT!!!"