Dan and Adrian both had already risen from the couch, grabbing their shoes and jackets as Phil got off the phone with Chris, promising him that they'd be right there.
"Dan, what if-,?"
"Just go. We'll sort it out." Dan urged him.
Phil grabbed his own shoes, jacket, and car keys and they rushed out of the house, and into the harsh cold.
Phil unlocked the car, climbed in, and started the engine. He was pulling out of the driveway as Adrian pulled his door shut.
The ride was short, and as soon as Phil had pulled into Chris' driveway, the three of them climbed out of the car and hurried up to the doorway which was slightly ajar.
Phil stepped into the house first, pushing the door all the way open, casting a dim light into Chris' foyer which opened up at the right to the living room.
"Chris?" Phil called.
"Phil," Chris' relieved voice sounded from the kitchen. "We're in here!"
The three of them followed Chris' voice. The layout of Chris' house created a sort of loop, where you could walk from the kitchen and dining area, through the foyer, into the living room and then back into the kitchen.
Phil rushed into the kitchen, and at the other side of the dining table, Chris was sitting cross legged, a half-conscious PJ laying across the floor and in his lap.
"Oh, fuck," Phil choked out.
Chris' hands had a bit of blood on them, and he clutched onto PJ's body as if he might disappear.
Phil couldn't spot where the blood was coming from at first, but as he rushed over to kneel beside them, he could see that PJ's shirt was soiled with blood.
"I don't know what to do," Chris said weakly.
"Okay, just hang on. Don't move," Phil said. "Dan, get me a knife, or scissors or something."
PJ was letting out pained moans, muffled by a mixture of his own breathing and his lips clamped shut.
"There," Phil nodded towards a drawer and Dan pulled it open, following Phil's instruction and searched quickly, the other items in the drawer creating a wide variety of clangs and tings. When he found a pair of scissors he quickly handed them to Phil.
"Okay, just hold still," Phil said and he gingerly lifted PJ's shirt away from his body and cut a slit up the center and he pulled back the cloth, revealing three somewhat deep gash roughly around the same area you'd find his appendix.
"It's going to be fine," Phil said firmly.
"Dan, I need you to get me towels and rubbing alcohol from the restroom," Phil ordered him, and he immediately obeyed half-running to the bathroom at the end of the hall and searching the linen closet and medicine cabinet frantically.
When he returned, and put these things on the ground, Phil said, "Now, get a pot from the cupboard," he nodded in the right direction and when Dan had collected the bucket he continued, "fill it with warm water."
Dan turned on both taps at the faucet, and the water grew warm quickly. He tested the temperature and when it was half-full he lowered the large pot to the floor beside Phil.
The awful smell of blood filled the air, and PJ continued to make small, pained, movements.
Phil took one of the towels, submerged it into the pot, dousing it with warm water. With the warm towel, Phil gingerly cleaned around the wound and Dan watched as Phil worked, in slight awe.
"What happened?" Dan asked gently.
"I came home from work and PJ, the dumb little shit, was waiting outside for me, and then suddenly he came out of nowhere. And god, it was terrifying, his nails- and he attacked PJ and I was just pulling up and then he disappeared-, and I want to fucking kill him!"
"Okay, it's alright," Dan looked at his cousin, who appeared to have been merely watching, but Dan knew he was listening for anything going on outside the house.
"Go," Dan told him, and Adrian was gone to watch from the sky.
"Fuck," PJ said through gritted teeth as Phil cleaned closer to the wound.
"Okay, it's okay." Phil said soothingly.
PJ clutched onto Chris' shirt desperately as Chris cradled him gently in his lap.
Dan looked between the two of them.
"Chris," he said, gently grabbing his attention. "He needs you."
Chris looked at Dan in confusion, but then he looked back down at PJ. Phil paused, and Chris wordlessly pulled PJ closer to him.
PJ grimaced and let out a hum of pain, but as more of their bodies came into contact his convulsions eased slightly.
With the blood cleared, but the wound still weeping just slightly, Phil opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and the scent filled the room.
"Phil," PJ complained, dreading the burn of the alcohol.
"I'm not gonna lie, PJ, but this will probably hurt like a motherfucker."
At Phil's warning Chris pulled the wounded man closer to him. PJ looked at Phil with wide-eyes and his own face contorted in reluctance.
He poured a bit of the alcohol onto PJ's belly and it rolled passed the wound.
"Fuck," he gasped, his body trembling at the burn. Chris held onto him, moving his hair off of his sweaty forehead and wiping the moisture away with the sleeve of his own jacket.
Phil took a smaller, dry towel that Dan had previously brought out, and pressed it tightly to the wound and at PJ's gasp, he said, "We have to make sure the bleeding stops." He then said to Dan clearly, "Get me a bed sheet. Something big, but thin."
Following Phil's instruction, he returned quickly to the restroom where he had seen something similar to what Phil described and found a bed sheet.
As he pulled it off the shelf, other linens slipped off the shelf, but he ignored them and returned quickly to the kitchen.
With the sheet, Phil cut a slit in it, and tore it twice in half.
"I need you to sit up, okay?"
PJ nodded, and with Chris' help he sat up.
"It'll just be a second."
Phil brought one end of a strip of the sheet around PJ's body and around. He tugged tightly, like ripping a band aid off, and then knotted it as securely as he could, so as to create a makeshift bandage.
It'd been about the hardest thing Phil had done in his entire life.
"Thank you, Phil." It wasn't PJ that had said it, but Chris.
His dark eyes shined in gratitude towards Phil. He scooted up, so as to let PJ rest his back into his chest.
PJ's breathing evened out slowly, and he let his head rest on Chris' shoulder.
The worst part was over, and with his chest heaving, his tired eyes slid over to look at Phil wordlessly for a moment. He shut his eyes and Chris continued to hold onto him.
Phil rose from the tile and left the kitchen, and with knitted eyebrows Dan watched him go. His skin itched with the agitation Phil was feeling.
He got up and followed him, finding him leaning against the hallway wall, a hand braced against the wood.
"Phil, are you okay?" Dan asked him in the gentlest tone he could muster as he could see Phil trembling with frustration.
"No," Phil turned, a hand sliding off the wall.
"No, I'm not fucking okay."
"This passed weekend has been absolute hell. I had to watch you, recklessly and selfishly put all of us in danger, because you were a little upset. We've been living like we're rats in a sewer for three days, and I just wrapped up a friend in a homemade bandage while he was shaking in pain, and was thanked for that by his boyfriend."
"And-! And they're still out there! And we're just hiding here, waiting for them!" Phil shouted hysterically. "Dan, I can't deal with this shit! What if-," he cut himself short, his eyes suddenly watering and his throat closing up.
Dan stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug.
Phil clutched onto Dan in return. "What if I lose you," he admitted his fears softly, his face pressed to Dan's shoulder.
"You're not going to."
For the few short moments they had, they stood there, but Dan could hear Adrian walking back up to the house and he regretfully pulled away from Phil.
He was walking in pulling his jacket back over his head, when they met him in the kitchen.
Adrian looked over the scene in the kitchen. The bucket full of red water with the soiled towel was sitting in the bucket, the scissors and extra strips of bed sheet lying beside it.
Incredibly relieved that Phil got him patched up, he let out a breath, but then said, "I didn't see them, but they've got to be out there somewhere."
The shifting of rocks in Chris' driveway could be heard, as well as the rustling of leaves.
Dan looked at Adrian, and they exchanged a look with PJ. PJ slipped from Chris' arms and stood.
"What?" Phil asked. The three of them didn't say anything at first, so Phil said, "What's going-," Phil was cut off by a loud bang and he jolted harshly.
The sound of the front door banging against the wall was clear to all five of them and Chris stood quickly.
They might have had one injured, but they were still five to three.
Despite his injuries, PJ was soon four legged and blond, his makeshift bandage had fallen to the floor, and Dan joined him, standing on his four strong legs beside Phil, his clothes abandoned.
Foot steps thudded ominously and Dan stepped forward, legs rigid, hair standing on end, teeth bared. And it was terrifyingly beautiful, and Phil felt so meek beside him, but he didn't have much time for any other thoughts because three terrible looking figures stepped into the kitchen.
Phil only had a fraction of a second to take in the inhuman, long sharp teeth, and the long, sharp, yellowing nails before bodies lunged forward.
He watched, horrified, as Dan sent the boy-well, he wasn't exactly a boy, was he- with short, spiky, black hair falling backward onto the ground, and in his moment of distraction he felt a sudden pressure at his chest and he crashed roughly into the tile behind him. He cried out at the splitting pain at the back of his head, but it was soon forgotten when he looked up into menacing, blood red eyes.
Before he could make any sort of defense, Dan had lunged and then beside him he could see Dan digging his canines into the shoulder of this boy, letting out angry growls.
He looked around and noticed that although PJ was injured, and not quite as large as Dan was, he was very fast, and could hit all of his opponent's weak spots.
His opponent was weakening quickly, but Dan was being attacked by two at once, and he saw Adrian swoop in, and clawed viciously at the eyes of one of them in Dan's defense.
He was blinded by the wounds, and Dan took the chance to knock him back into the kitchen dining table, causing it to collapse and knocking him completely unconscious.
However, as Dan hesitated, his large, wolf rib cage heaving with a breath, the last of the three that had not been incapacitated took advantage of Dan's vulnerable moment.
Phil's eyes widened, as he watched the boy snarl and pull his hand back to strike Dan.
"No!"
Boldly, Phil launched himself across the room, sweeping the red-eyed monster off of Dan and onto the ground.
He held him by his collar and shouted furiously, "I know you've lost someone!"
The red-eyed boy hesitated, caught off guard by Phil's words. Phil didn't know where the words were coming from, but he continued. "I know you've lost someone and killing is not going to fill the emptiness. You're only turning yourself into a monster!"
The sickening sound of flesh shifting filled Phil's ears as the sharp teeth were retracted into the boy's gums.
The red in his eyes remained, but then he let out a cry of rage and threw Phil off of him.
Phil shifted, and turned over, watching in horror as the boy found a large steak knife and he shouted, "No!" but it was too late.
He took the large knife and plunged it through his own neck.
He let out a sickening, gurgle of a cry after he collapsed and choked on his own breath.
As the life left his body, Phil caught his own breath and suddenly his stomach turned and bile rose to the back of the throat, filling his mouth with an awful taste and he retched.
He rushed from the house, a hand clamped over his mouth and then he was outside, kneeling in Chris driveway, emptying the entire contents of his stomach until he could only heave up air.
His eyes watered and his pores screamed but the cold felt incredible against his hot skin.
He heard a soft, comforting keening sound and he recognized it as Dan.
Dan's warm tongue traveled the length of his face from his jaw to his forehead, cleaning the sweat off of his face and sending a wave of soothing warmth into his body.
Phil let out a few last dry heaves and he rocked back onto his shins.
I'm sorry.
He didn't say anything, but gulped at the cold air.
Dan sat beside him, pressing his warmth to Phil's body.
To his surprise, it began to sprinkle.
With his canines, Dan gently tugged on Phil to follow him back into the house.
With trembling limbs he stood and followed him back into the house.
He was so fucking exhausted.
"Chris," he said. "I'm sorry. Your table and god-, this is so fucked up."
He and Chris looked at the unconscious bodies of two of the boys, and bleeding body of the last.
But then, as Phil stared at the lifeless of Chris' kitchen floor, his disgust turned quickly to awe as the body emitted a slight glow in the dimly lit room.
Phil could feel the warmth from it, and then before he could really take a moment to understand, the body had disappeared completely, leaving behind an odd peace.
The other two bodies in the kitchen shifted. Dan, PJ and Adrian didn't do anything, but watched as they rose from the ground.
The two boys looked around at each other.
Dan took one step forward and they bolted from the house. Adrian swooped after them, making intimidated cawing noises.
"Fuck," he heard PJ curse. He looked around at his friend, who had shifted back to his human form. His wound was weeping.
"Shit, okay. Chris," Phil said pointedly and he rushed from the room to gather a fresh towel.
PJ held himself up at the counter and Phil found a chair to pull up next to him and let him slip into it. Chris had returned with two small hand towels as well as a blanket which he tactfully covered PJ with.
Dan had returned to his human form as well and took the pot, which miraculously hadn't been spilt amongst the chaos and filled it with fresh, warm water.
He put the pot next to Phil, and he began to quickly work on redressing PJ's wound.
Adrenaline had passed and Phil realized his glasses were cracked and with a sigh, he took them off and left them discarded on the floor.
"What are my neighbors going to think?" Chris asked suddenly as Adrian had returned into the house.
Despite the sting of Phil's work, PJ let out a weak smile and said,
"Angry kitchen sex is a good excuse for the broken table."
Phil didn't want to laugh, and neither did Dan, but as Dan pulled his black t-shirt back over his head, he began to chuckle.
And soon the five of them were laughing, and recovering from the adrenaline and exhaustion.
"It's not that deep. You won't need stitches or anything. You'll just have to keep it clean so it won't get infected," Phil said when PJ was patched up and gingerly stepping back into his jeans.
Chris had brought him out a completely new shirt and a warm jacket.
Now the excitement was over, the anxious build up had passed, the five of them were starving and although it wasn't the best food choice, they ordered a pizza.
Phil and Dan gathered up the remainder of Chris table, leaning the partial planks of wood and detached legs against the wall.
"I'll get you a new table," Phil insisted.
"Don't worry about it," Chris waved him off but in a certain tone that implied that he really should not disagree, Dan said, "We'll take care of it."
"Thanks."
Dan nodded in return.
They filled up on pizza that night at Chris' house. They didn't watch anything on television, or play any video games, but sat around the living room.
They didn't talk much, but shot each other understanding and comforting looks.
At one point Adrian had said, "They won't be back," with certainty that hung in the air like a blanket being tucked around them at the end of a bed time story.