Damnation, Salvation, Fire and Steel

Metamorphosis

1/4

He was home.

That was the first thing Slightly realized when his eyes cracked open and he got a look at his surroundings. He could smell something good cooking, mixed with his mother's perfume and his dad's cigars. The smell of love, the feel of warmth from the fire, and security was here. He couldn't believe he had forgotten it. His head felt a bit fuzzy, though, and he didn't know why. Not that he cared though, either.

He was home.

There was only one thing that seemed wrong with the scenario.

Everything was upside down. Couches, end tables, everything was sitting on what he knew was, at one point, the ceiling in his old house. Or thought was the ceiling. He was standing on the ceiling now, he noticed with dulled amazement as he looked down to see the spiraling pattern of plaster that had once been over his head every night when he went to sleep. Miraculously, everything else was on the floor – or, depending on your point of view, everything was on the ceiling.

Steam rose from the kettle's nose to float around him like some weird misty halo as he heard the door open and then shut, footsteps thudding towards the living room archway. Slightly blinked as his father walked into the room above him, but the boy couldn't see the man's face – just the top of his head.

"Wrong, all wrong," his father muttered, shaking his head. Then he shouted, "Deborah! Rats are eating the wallpaper and the dog's out of the oven!"

At that moment he looked up, and Slightly's eyes widened when he saw the gaping hole in the left side of his father's face. Bits and chunks of rotted flesh jiggled and danced as he canted his head to the side, staring directly at the boy.

"I say," the man muttered, "the eye is leaking again!"

Slightly looked up and squeaked as the giant eye that hadn't been there before blinked slowly at him, droplets of blood falling with every twitch of its muscles. The one eyebrow it sported drew in and it seemed to glare at the boy, before blinking again. A low moan emanated throughout the room as the eye rolled around and more blood bulged in its corners.

The blonde jumped back with a tiny, choked screech and found himself falling. He screeched again as glass shattered around him and he hit the ground with a rather painful thud. His eyes darted from left to right, his mouth opening and closing as everything was misplaced again. Instead of on the ceiling, the furniture was on the walls, and his father – dancing chunks of flesh and all – had moved to sit on the couch, lighting a cigar as he leaned back to relax, enjoying the flame of the monkey's paw that sat on the table beside him.

At that point his mother decided to enter the room. "Thomas, you know that cigar irritates the eye!" she scolded, while Thomas shrugged amiably. Then she turned to Slightly and smiled. "Honey, the cat's out of the bag."

A bag abruptly appeared in her arms, and to the boy's surprise, Mungojerrie leapt out of it as she held it out to show him. His father grunted. "Fairies, boy," he said, looking up with his remaining eye. "They're not real."

Slightly could only stare in shock as Mungojerrie padded over to him and began to rub himself against the blonde's legs, purring like a motor. Frowning in confusion, Slightly bent down to pick the cat up, stroking his head gently. When he glanced up again, his father was gone but his mother was still there, smiling at him. All that remained of Thomas was a dent in the couch, stained with black, ancient blood.

"Daddy had to go see the eye doctor," Deborah told the boy. "He keeps getting funny itches in his left eye."

"It's the cigars, isn't it?" Mungojerrie asked Deborah. She nodded.

"Terrible things," she replied. "They'll suck the magic right out of you."

Slightly chewed his lip. "Umm…what's going on?"

"The cat's out of the bag, honey," Deborah said matter-of-factly. "The cigar is making the eye bleed. I can't fix it, and neither can Daddy."

The boy made a face. "Does it have to be fixed? It's slightly just an eye."

"It's not just an eye," Mungojerrie said.

"It's a special eye," said Deborah.

"And we can't fix it!" they both said as one.

Slightly blinked. "What am I supposed to do about it?" he demanded sourly.

"You have to fix it," Deborah said.

"So it stops bleeding for a while," Mungojerrie added.

"Butt out the cigar and air out the house!" Deborah chimed. "Can't you smell it?"

And he did.

Sniffing delicately, Slightly could smell the acrid odour of smoke and cheap cigars. He made a face. "That's slightly gross," he told them.

"Yes, it is," the cat said, rubbing his head against the boy's shoulder.

"That's why you have to air out the house," Deborah said, suddenly sad. "If you don't, it will get worse and the eye will rot."

"And we just can't have that." Mungojerrie mewed.

"Well…where's the window?" Slightly looked around again and received another shock – everything was gone. The furniture, lamps, everything – vanished without a trace. He blinked, eyes widening. "Hey, what happened to—"

When he looked back, Deborah's face had gone deathly pale. Her hands were thin, her face gaunt. Her dress seemed to swallow her whole and the boy hissed, taking a step back as images of his mother on her death bed swept across his mind.

"Sweetheart, the cat's out of the bag," she said, her voice growing shaky, thinning to mimic the state her body had become. "The eye is bleeding, and it's all wrong. You have to air out the house before it's too late."

Above him, the eye moaned again, squinting as though it were trying to get a better look at him. Slightly gasped and took a step back, narrowly dodging a fat drop of blood as it fell to the ground and splattered.

"The basement is full of rats, they're eating the wallpaper," Deborah whispered. "And it's so pretty, too…you always liked it."

"M-Mama?" Slightly whispered, clutching Mungojerrie tightly to his chest. "Mama, what's going on?"

"Don't listen to Daddy, baby," his mother said, her voice fading as she took a step back into the hallway, which had become frighteningly dark. "Fairies are real."

"I slightly know that, Mama," Slightly said, his voice taking on a pleading note. "But what are you talking about? The wallpaper…rats?"

"It was so pretty…" Deborah sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "You always liked it."

"I slightly don't understand!" Slightly cried as more drops of blood fell from the eye like rain. Dimly, he noticed that the blood was sizzling and eating through the floor. "What wallpaper, what rats? Mama!"

Foam bubbled at the corners of Deborah's lips. She smiled weakly as the veins in her face and arms began to throb visibly. "Open the windows, baby," she whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Slightly saw a window. He gasped, turning to look fully at it as Deborah vanished into the shadows behind her. Dropping Mungojerrie to the ground, he dashed over to it and began to yank on it in an attempt to pry it open. However, it was stubborn – stuck. Slightly yelled in anger, suddenly consumed with the need to open it and let a fresh breeze in. The scent of cigars became nearly overpowering and the eye began to scream.

"Come on!" Slightly shouted, pounding on the window furiously. "Open!"

"Child, you had better hurry," Mungojerrie said, winding himself between the boy's legs, rubbing against his ankles. "Time's running out, the eye is bleeding."

"I slightly know it is!" the blonde cried, glancing back to see great, gaping holes in the ground where acidic tears had melted through. Black fog rose from the holes, slowly creeping towards him. "But the window – it's slightly stuck!"

"You can do it, Slightly," Mungojerrie said, sitting down and starting to clean his paws. He only paused once to give the boy a once-over. "I know you can do it. Open the window."

Grunting, Slightly threw himself against it, digging his fingers beneath the frame and pulling up as hard as he could. Dust fell atop his head as rusty hinges screeched, and the screaming of the eye filled the room. Slowly, ever so slowly, the window began to give. Crying out in triumph, Slightly slipped his fingers beneath it and hauled up.

The window flew open with a shriek, and Slightly fell back with a yelp as a blast of warm air exploded through the frame. The eye screamed again, once more, as everything in the room was suddenly sucked through the window and into a vortex of light and wind.

Everything in the room including Slightly, who didn't go without a terrible cry of terror.

A glass flew across the room to shatter against the wall. Shrieks of fury followed, along with a coughing fit that could sicken even the most stoic of nurses. Abura watched impassively as his master bent over, hacking up what sounded like a lung. Amber eyes didn't blink once as Saxon choked out cuss words that would make any sailor blush.

"DAMN!" Saxon slammed one knotted, ugly fist down upon the armrest of his chair, eyes flashing with rage. "How can – what was – ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!" His scream sent bugs and creepy crawlers running, dust falling from the ceiling in showers.

It was right about then that Abura decided to step in as Saxon's loyal servant. "What trouble you, master?" he hissed.

"Pan," Saxon spat. "I have found the Weave, I have accessed his deepest core, and still there are wards that protect him!" He spat again, saliva dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. Abura scowled, but took a tissue and wiped it away.

"Wards?" the fairy growled. "What sort of wards?"

"Wards that thwart me," the cripple hissed viciously, eyes gleaming. "Did you not smell it, Aburakadabura?" Abura shook his head, growling inwardly at the use of his full name. "The scent of cigars, pet, the scent…of…CIGARS!" He snarled again and more spit dripped down his chin. Abura didn't even bother trying to clean it up this time. "Father used to smoke them," the cripple growled. "How I hated them. Hated them, do you hear me, Pan!" He roared again but then, exhausted, fell back into his chair.

"Master?"

"It seems that Pan is still a force to be reckoned with," Saxon muttered sourly. "He escaped my clutches, but not for long. For now…" His eyes snapped to Abura, narrowing savagely. "For now, I want you to find this ward. Discover the source of it, and destroy it. Nothing must come between Pan and I again, do you understand?"

Abura bowed deeply. "Yes, Master."

"Go then, slave. And do not bother me again until you find the source, or I call you."

The fairy's eyebrow twitched. "Yes, Master."

Abura left with a puff of black magic, and the instant he was out of Saxon's sight a feral grin crossed his face and a nasty gleam entered his eyes. "Da! No need to worry, Master Saxon," he hissed to himself. Then he began to hum. "I will find de ward. I will search de high road and you will search de low road, and I'll find de ward long afore ya." He cackled lightly, tugging on a long string of hair.

"Ai! What fun dis shall be!" He flapped his wings and danced in mid-air briefly. "Da! Steeeeeupid boy, tinking he can trust me!" He smirked darkly.

"Eet will be de end of him, very soon. Ai!"

Nibs fought the pounding in his head as he was carried into the darkness of the forest on the shoulders of his odd saviour, who had plucked him from the spider's web and scaled the crevice's walls with what seemed to be complete ease. His head bobbed as the creature – he had only seen a dark shape looming over him and was unable to identify its species – ran through the trees, breathing lightly as what sounded like paws thumped lightly against the wet earth.

His neck and shoulder ached from where the spider baby had bitten him, and a strange numb feeling was beginning to spread around the areas. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, echoing the pain in his head, and he wished he could fade into the oblivion of unconsciousness. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be as he felt his saviour slow down to a trot, then a light trot, until they finally stopped.

Before he had a chance to mumble anything he was practically flung to the ground, and something was sniffing him from head to toe. Nibs groaned, raising a hand to shield his face as hot breath came just a little too close for his liking. The sniffing stopped and a low – and rather irritated – growl emitted from the throat of the creature.

"I'm checking you for injuries," a female voice snapped. "You'd do well to drop your damn hand and let me finish!"

"Who're you?" Nibs muttered, lowering his hand a bit.

The shadow came forward and sniffed his face; he flinched back. It continued until it reached his neck and shoulder, where a low snort and a cuss word was heard. "Damn," the voice said. "That spider thing got you good, didn't it?"

Nibs scowled, his eyes slowly beginning to clear. "I guess so…but who—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he got a good look at the person – or creature, as it turned out – who had saved him. He wasn't sure whether to be shocked, horrified, or scared out of his wits at the sight of a werewolf standing before him, fang-filled face mere inches from his own.

Slate-gray eyes peered at him from a lightly furred face framed by long, equally gray hair. Nibs glanced down to the rest of the creature, then averted his eyes quickly – quite obviously female, as the drooping cloth that made her shirt told him. A thick tail swished behind her and her ears flicked back.

"Is there a problem with the way I look?" she growled hotly, stepping back and staring at the boy with cold eyes.

"No…? I mean…" He shook his head, trying to clear the cotton that didn't want to go away. He was so tired… "I've just never—"

"Seen a werewolf before," she inserted. "I know. There's not many of us left, so it doesn't surprise me." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't socialize with humans much, either, so I can't blame you for being freaked out by me."

"I'm not freaked out," Nibs retorted.

She snorted again. "Oh, that's a load. Humans freak out over everything. If you're scared, just admit it. It wouldn't surprise me."

"I'm not scared!" said Nibs, anger flaring up. The anger quickly faded, however, when a wave of nausea washed over him and he had to lean back, propping himself up on his palms. "Whoa…"

"What's wrong, human?" she asked, a little snidely. "Can't handle the stress?"

"No…I don't feel so good…" Nibs bit his lip, trying to fight the urge that was growing stronger at every moment. He closed his eyes and shivered.

"Hey, human? You okay?"

Nibs gagged suddenly. He began to cough, and then hack. The werewolf swore again and knelt down, pounding on his back while everything that was in his stomach surged up and landed in a puddle on the ground before him. He heard a voice mutter, "Ew…" softly, and then he was done. Nibs sat there, gasping for breath and trying to stop his head from spinning while the werewolf muttered to herself.

"Human, you're pretty fucked." She stated after a long moment of silence – and after Nibs had sat back to lean against a tree. He scowled at her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you're fucked – not literally, of course. You wouldn't be a virgin if you were." Nibs stared blankly at her; she sighed. "Okay, I'm gonna make it easy for your human brain to comprehend. The spider bit you." He nodded. "Some spiders have venom." He nodded again. "Venom kills." Another nod. "That spider had a lot of venom." Nibs nodded more slowly. "And it bit you." Nibs froze mid-nod. The werewolf snorted. "I see you catch my drift."

"Am I going to die?" Nibs asked, his eyes widening.

"Er…I really don't know – or care! Thing is, human, at the moment I'm stuck with you. Frankly, I really don't want you going all dead on me – not because I don't want you to, mind you, but because you're one of Pan's kids." She bristled a bit. "Well you don't have to look at me like that! I don't have two heads you know!"

Another wave of nausea washed over the boy and he groaned. "So what am I supposed to do? Is there a medicine or a cure or something?"

The werewolf frowned. "I have no idea. I wasn't really expecting this to happen so I didn't bring my freakin' 'Book of Amazing Cures' with me!" She sounded sarcastic enough to cause a dark frown to spawn on Nibs's face. "But…" She paused, running a tongue across her lips. "I've been around long enough to have heard some stories. Generally, with spells of some sort – I guess, I don't know for sure since I heard it second-hand – to cancel out one spell you can use another. It may be the same with spider venom."

"What are you talking about?" Nibs snapped, getting irritated.

The werewolf bristled again. "Are you stupid or something? What I mean is that maybe if we inject another type of venom into your body – not as deadly but just as powerful as spider-man's – then that might cancel out its poison. If the new venom is powerful enough, it could completely null the other crap that's in your bloodstream." She huffed darkly. "The spider bit you so we need something else to bite you."

"I don't like the sound of that," Nibs told her honestly. "I think I've been bitten enough in one night." His stomach burbled unhappily and he winced. She smirked.

"Not like you have much of a choice, human," she commented snidely. "It's my idea or death – or my idea and die anyway if it doesn't work. Which means I go out and rip off the head of the person who told me that bull. Whichever way we go, you are pretty damn screwed. For a virgin."

Nibs scowled at her. She scowled back. "Stuck between a rock and a hard place," Nibs mumbled, mostly to himself. Dimly, he realized it was something Wendy often said – though no one had quite known what she meant. He hadn't, up until now.

"So, human? You want to try it and maybe live, or maybe die, or not try it and die a painful, agonizing death? I'll take the dead fairy's corpses as enough evidence to say that they didn't go quietly. Or peacefully, for that matter. Besides, I got a load of that spider thing – man, was he ugly."

The boy sighed. "Fine…I guess I'll try it." She began to grin – exposing every single one of her sharp, white fangs – but froze when he said "But."

"But what?" she snapped. "It's not like we've got a lot of time left, you know. Your face is starting to turn a weird colour."

And indeed it was. An ugly shade of gray, to be exact. Nibs frowned, feeling tremors running through his body as a strange cold feeling settled over him. He licked his lips. "I want to know your name first."

The werewolf jumped a bit, then frowned. "What's it to you?"

"I just want to know. If we're 'stuck' together then I don't want to call you "Hey You!"."

She grumbled. "You have a point, human."

Nibs smiled a little, starting to feel sick again. "My name is Nibs."

"Call me…Icky." She lashed her tail irritably, wrinkling her nose. "Look, okay, so now we know each other. Big deal. What say we get this over with?"

Nibs sighed, shuddering a bit as the cold feeling in his body began to spread, tightening its grip on him. "All right…what do I have to do?"

Icky's lips curled up, showing her teeth again. "Just hold still, Nibs. That's all you gotta do." Her voice had turned sweet, for some reason, and she looked like a mix between disgusted and pleased.

Nibs blinked, confused. Also, he was wary of the mixed emotions he saw dancing across Icky's face. They made him fairly uneasy. And her teeth freaked him out. "But don't we need something to bite me? What are you gonna do?"

Icky shifted her weight to the side, crouching down low. Her hackles spiked up and ears flattened back flat against her head. Slowly, her lips peeled away from terrible white fangs in a pink mouth. What sounded like a mix of giggles and growls emitted from her throat.

"I'm going to take a bite out of you, kid. I've always wondered if humans really do taste like chicken."

Author's Note: Yes, after all this time I am posting again. I do intend to continue this story; it might just take a while. There are a few more chapters coming up, but I may not post until I finish the next chapter I had initially planned. Yeah... confusing. Woo. Hope you guys are enjoying it (and special thanks to the one reviewer who saved this to their favourites; because of you, my butt is now moving again on this. lol)