This one for sure is long because it felt long and I'm just terrible at keeping up with myself. But here it is, the last chapter for this story's Bad Moon storyline. There will be one more chapter after this, but it will be a flashback chapter that does not continue the current story. But I felt like I owed you guys that chapter, so after this one, that will come next. And then that will be the end of Bad Moon Hell Raisers. Talk more at the end, get to reading you guys.

So Desmond totally did not intend on playing bartender on Fourth of July. But with the amount of alcohol lying around he really couldn't help it. There was beer everywhere, and whiskey, and wine, and vodka, and scotch and he just…didn't stop himself from grabbing this and that and mixing it together. And when people found out he was doing that, oh man, it was just one big rush of pouring this into that, swirling together that and this, and just much alcohol and soda and jeez it wasn't even five o' clock yet and people were intent on getting their drink on.

He was having fun with it though, the people who came up to him were friendly and it was just a whirlwind of names and faces he would barely remember in the morning. And of course there was the constant questioning of how he knew such mad drink mixing skills, and against all judgement, he told them. Desmond simply explained over and over again about his days in New York as a bartender. Just, those days when he was nothing but a simple bartender. Back when he was pretending to be a model citizen and not some Assassin.

But that was another story all on its own.

At least his story was enough to sate everyone's curiosity, especially the cop who was constantly giving him and the boys a hard time just for merely existing. Or not really, the damn guy kept hanging about, walking past their spot every few minutes to give them the stink eye. Not like Malik and Altaïr gave a damn from where they were slouched against a park bench. And since they didn't care, Desmond didn't either. No need to raise dumb drama all because some gung-ho cop had an attitude problem. Desmond was just happy to be doing something normal for once, mixing drinks was a hell of a lot more relaxing than worrying about the two werewolves nearby.

The whole Fourth of July party itself was pretty damn fun. Everything was set up in the town park, the only place big enough to hold such an event. There was endless upon endless rows of tables and grills. The smell of cooked meat was constantly in the air. At the edge of it all, the fancy shmancy cannon of Altaïr and Malik. The real story behind that that, Revolutionary War replica, former property of an old, war history buff that had lived on the farm several years prior to the Brotherhood purchasing the property. The cannon, among various other guns, had been stored in the old coot's barn and had been left there, apparently forgotten.

When Altaïr and Malik moved in, they found the stash, cleaned it all up, put everything back together, and had themselves but new, loud toys. And since moving in, they started bringing the cannon back out for Independence Day. Not that they cared about the actual holiday. They had barely been living in America for almost six years now. They only bothered to show up to the whole shebang that was this party was to keep up appearances and for all the free food around. Desmond didn't blame them about the food part. The boys had purposely camped out a spot close to the grills for the opportunity to drool all over the constantly cooking meat in hopes that a piece would just drop into their mouth.

But until they turned into actual dogs and got under everyone's feet, they just sat on standby, twitching every now and again as they idly sipped from beer bottles. Now Desmond had been a tad wary of letting them drink, he knew full well the effects of alcohol, and that was something he didn't want to see happen to two hypersensitive werewolves. But Malik told him so long as they didn't drink too much, they'd be find and not lost control. Alraïr went on to reassure him that the worst that'll happen to them was a massive hangover from hell.

Which was exactly what Connor needed to come home too tomorrow. Sure, Connor had never warned him about giving them alcohol , not that he would have given Desmond's previous occupation. But it made sense to be drinking out here at a public party, where just about everyone had a Coors or a Budweiser in hand. The answer? Simple.

Hide in plain sight.

Not that Altaïr or Malik looked particularly pleased by it. They were probably getting intoxicated by the smell alone, judging by the way they were holding their beers away from their faces as far away from their faces as possible. Hell, the whole party was just one big sensory overload. All these smells and sounds, all these warm bodies packed together. Desmond kept dreading the moment they would just snap and start to Change, to just go wolf and start tearing into people.

When he would glance over at them every now and again, they'd still be lounging on their bench, sometimes chatting up a neighbor or occasionally taking a sip of beer. They always looked fidgety to him, a tad nervous, uncomfortable. Yet somehow they managed to appear relatively calm, to anyone who wasn't trained to be as observant as Desmond was. It was during one of those times he was looking over at them when the call sounded across the park.

"Pie eating contest!"

Suddenly, an Altaïr was in front of him, shoving a warm beer bottle into his hand, then stalking off in the direction the voice came from.

"That time of year again already?" Malik moaned, popping up on Desmond's other side.

"I'm guessing this an annual occurrence" Desmond commented.

"Unfortunately, yes. Here, come watch and see" Malik said, sipping from his beer and leading Desmond through the tangled maze of benches and tables to the center of the park. There, a long table was set up stacked to the sky with lots and lots of motherfucking pie. Two other people sat at the table already. When Altaïr joined them, an excited chattering broke out through the gathering crowd as he slumped down in his seat. Apparently he was a fan favorite.

"Ah, out to win the gold again I see" someone said, and a second later, Rauf the martial art instructor appeared beside Desmond.

"I guess? But how does he keep from getting after eating all that pie?" Desmond asked, eyeing all the whipped cream that was just loaded atop all the baked goodness; that had to be a lactose intolerant's worst nightmare.

"Oh no, he usually gets very, very ill" Rauf replied with a shake of his head. "He'll be feeling it all night. Just goes to show that eagle and wold are not mean to share stomachs"

Rauf chuckled as Desmond's nearly popped out of his head as 'wolf' was mentioned. "What's wrong, Brother? Did no one tell you that you weren't alone out here?" the bearded man asked with a wink.

"Yes, we probably should have, but since the pup isn't… staying long anyway, there didn't seem to be a point in telling him" Malik piped up.

"Gee, thanks guys" Desmond muttered. Figured, soooo figured. Of course there was another Assassin in town that he didn't know about. Yes, he would be leaving as soon as Connor came back…But knowing he had some sort of back up would have been really really awesome, especially when they were only about a couple miles down the road. Desmond was about to ask Rauf a question when the call to let the contest begin rang.

Now, Desmond loved pie as much as the next guy and would never turn down an offer for some. But these guys were on a totally different level of "loving" pie. They were gorging themselves on it, bite after bite after bite. It was a big flurry of forks, whip cream, and pie tins. Had to wonder, where the fuck were they putting this all because Desmond didn't think their stomachs could handle it. Altaïr was easily the thinnest one at the table, yet he tore through those pies like paper. Where the other contestants were rushing to keep up with each other, Altaïr was easily knocking them out of the park.

But Desmond felt just as mesmerized as the crowd, watching as the stacks of pie dwindle and dwindle by Altaïr's hands alone. Eventually the other contestants just stopped eating whatever they had directly in front of them because other than that, there were no more pies left on the table. Someone shouted "Stop!" and everyone put their forks down.

"Ladies and gentleman! This year's annual Pie Eating Contest winner is…Our reigning champion, Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad!"

Said champion rose from his seat and threw his arms into the air, flexing them like he was a bodybuilder on the runway. And the crowd was cheering wildly, and Desmond clapped around the bottle in his hands, Rauf clapping along with him. Malik was the only one not cheering, or happy looking, or amused by any of it. He looked rather indifferent and unimpressed, idly taking a half sip from his own bottle of beer he wasn't actually drinking. As the crowd dispersed Altaïr swaggered over to them, looking incredibly smug as one could be with whip cream smeared all over their chin and shirt.

"Oh look, the slob of the year saunters over to boast about how disgusting he is" Malik growled. "Wipe your damn mouth, you're in public for god's sake"

"Don't be such a grouch Malik. Excuse me for trying to have some fun" Altaïr teased, rolling his shoulder up to wipe his mouth along the sleeve. Desmond handed him his beer back afterwards.

"You're going to be sick as a dog any second now. You had your fun, great, fantastic. Can we go home now?" Mailk snapped, glancing at Desmond as he did. It was still light out, they had at least a couple more hours until sunset. "Come on pup, give me the keys to the truck. I'll bring it back later tonight, promise"

"Hah?" Desmond said, blinking at him. "You still drive?"

"Don't act so fucking surprised you little shit" Malik snarled, a bit of canine flashing and oh jeez that looked suddenly bigger than it should have been.

"Just trust him Desmond, you have nothing to worry about" Rauf spoke up, reassuring him. "Besides, I do not think you have much time left to decide on the matter" he added as he motioned towards Altaïr. Said Assassin was swaying where he stood, face pale, the hand which held his beer shaking visibly. He was just boom sick, and without any more protest, Desmond dug out the keys from his pockets and traded them for Malik's beer.

"Just make sure he doesn't throw up. And don't crash into anything" Desmond said.

"Your confidence in me is soothing, pup. Have fun walking home tonight" Malik growled as he began to heard Altaïr across the park.

"But you said-"

"Changed my mind!"

And they were gone, leaving Desmond to stare after them in shock, mouth hanging open dumbly.

"I said trust him" Rauf repeated. "Not piss him off"

Well it was too late for that now wasn't it.

Mrs. Matilda Bugsby, Aperton native born and raised, made the absolute baby back ribs Desmond had ever had the pleasure of eating. It was long after the fireworks had gone off, all the families with kids had gone home already, and now all that was left were the die hard "It's not over 'till it's over" party goers were left. Grills were still going as everyone cooked up whatever sort of meat they had leftover, hence why so many people were still around. This was the advantage of a small ranching town. There was always plenty of food to go around. Ribs, burgers, pork chops, wings, legs, the works. Everyone left hanging around were wasily going home with armful of grilled goodness.

But Matilda Bugsby, oh sweet little Matilda Bugsby, made such amazing ribs. Desmond couldn't stop stuffing his face with them. The meat was savory, easy to chew, and by god her homemade BBQ sauce was to die for. He was sure his mouth had passed on to the next life and went straight to heaven. He went through his plate way too fast for his liking, but as soon as it disappeared, a new rack was laid across his plate and he was back to gorging himself.

Between demolishing the food before him and keeping an eye out for Malik (a very hopeful eye), Desmond was continuously greeted by numerous neighbors he didn't know the boys had (though they did keep mistaking him for Altaïr at first glance). They brought with them their own food and beer, and hung out with him while they all acquainted themselves. Time just seemed to whiz by as Desmond listened in on various gossip and he got to familiarize himself with the townsfolk. He didn't realize his ride home had arrived until someone greeted them for him.

"Ey, Connor! Grab a seat man, have a burger eh?"

Nearly choking on the rib he had been nibbling at, Desmond twisted around to see the survivalist behind him.

"Evening, Phil" Connor nodded back. "And uh, no thanks. Just here to get this bad boy home" he said, dropping a hand on Desmond's head to ruffle his short hair. Desmond squirmed under the hand, happy to see the other man but also incredible confused as to why the fuck he was here now instead of tomorrow like planned.

But with a great reluctance, Desmond cleaned his spot up, shaking hands with his news friends and said his goodbyes. The journey back to the truck Connor had thankfully brought back (suggesting he had already gone to the house) was an almost hazardous one between carrying back armfuls of food many more neighbors kept bringing tho them as they made their away across the park. Just more names and faces Desmond probably wouldn't remember after tonight.

Once to the truck, it was just a matter of stashing the food on the seats while they hooked the cannon trailer to the truck. This took little time and they were on the road soon after. The truck cabin smelled heavenly, and the plates of tin-foiled wrapped food in Desmond's lap had his stomach screaming at him to just eat more, more, more, more! And he knew for a fact one of these plates held Matilda Bugsby's ribs and oh god that just made him want to get back home sooner and find it before the boys got to it.

"So Des, did we have an exciting time?" Connor asked him. "I mean, you just took care of werewolves for almost a week, how do you feel about that?"

"Like it was the most fucking insane almost a week of my life" Desmond answered. "They're fucking insane. They're awesome too, so….fucking awesomely insane, yes that's what they are"

Which was true. They were absolutely insane and it was hard to tell if it was the wolf in them talking or not. But they were also really cool guys who really weren't as bad as they seemed. It was a totally different kind of experience that Desmond had ever experienced before working for the Assassin's. To him, he was like a cross between being a ragdoll to Altaïr and Malik, and then being some little kid to them. They'd treat him like crap, but then quickly start acting all happy and loving like they had never been upset before. Malik was still getting used to him, he could tell that much. But when Desmond wasn't saying or doing the wrong that pissed him off, Malik was pretty nice….When he wasn't being a big baby over something else at least.

Altaïr was a lot nicer at least. More playful, more bigheaded though and certainly filled out the "I'm the one in charge so I can do whatever I want" bill much to Malik's and Desmond's dislike. But he did like Desmond. Hell, just yesterday they went for a run, and then Altaïr had said he'd teach Desmond how to use a rifle in time for hunting season later in the year…If Desmond was around that long anyway. Frowning, Desmond turned to look out the window, the ever familiar signs against trespassing sliding by.

"What's with the long face?" Connor asked, quickly glancing at him from the driver's side.

"Hm? Nothing. Uh but hey, answer me this. When did you get home?" Desmond replied, hoping to distract him with another question, not wanting to think about his impending departure from Aperton.

"Huh well uh, surprise then. Got done early" Connor grinned. "Trail went cold, so they sent us home. And if they find anything else, they'll call me"

Which meant there was a good chance Connor would need another baby-sitter again, and then Desmond would be able to come back. But Desmond didn't want that. He didn't want to actually leave the more he thought about it.

"Okay" he nodded. "But wait…How'd you get here?"

"Got a ride. So hey, got another surprise for you. My ride? Still here. Oh, and he's your other cousin" Connor chuckled nervously, not looking all to pleased by it. Desmond let out an exaggerated moan cause oh god no. And seeing as how Malik was pissy and Altaïr was sick last he saw them, this was not what they fucking needed right now. And sure enough when they pulled up to the farm, there was a cherry red Ferrari with eagle decals on the side parked right outside. Connor drove the truck past it more up to the barn where they could get the cannons inside easier. Desmond hopped out with the food when the truck finally stopped, heading to the house first to at least feed the boys before dealing with anything else tonight.

Inside, there he was, the great Italian Stallion loudly chattering away about this and that as he reclined amongst some pillows, talking way too fast for anyone to keep up with. Across from him, Malik looked ready to bash his face into the wall, and his jaw visibly kept tightening with every other word. A pale Altaïr was curled up in his lap, Malik's hand carefully carding through it. Desmond did have to admire Malik's restraint, because as much as Ezio was annoying him, he was at least keeping his temper in check for his mate's sake.

Both Malik and Altaïr perked up when Desmond and Connor walked in, actually showing signs of interest they didn't have before. Ezio managed to interrupt himself to greet them as they entered.

"Ah, Desmond, cugino! Long time no see, it's been to long!" Ezio laughed, hopping to his feet to wrap an arm around Desmond's shoulders in a half hug due to all the plates Desmond carried.

"Heeeeeey Ezio, yeah man, way too long" Desmond forced himself to smile. "But I just gotta uh, feed somebody first" he said, ducking out from Ezio's arm to properly sets the food down before the boys. Altaïr was sitting up now, still pale but looking all too eager to start tearing away at some food. In fact both of them looked like the hungry wolves that they were, eyes dead set on the plates, nostrils flaring. The plates were set before them, and within moments tin foil and plastic wrap was being ripped away, and Altaïr and Malik devoured the food in front of them. Just eating was good enough for Altaït to start feeling better, his skin gradually regaining color and he was now more lively and animated than he was when Desmond walked in.

Leaving the boys to their own devices, Connor pulled Desmond away to help bring the cannon back into the barn for the night, with Ezio oddly enough trailing behind them. Probably for the best, it was most likely somewhat difficult talking to a werewolf when he was stuffing himself with porkchops and ribs. But even more odd was that Ezio was actually very, very silent as Connor and Desmond rolled the cannon into its rightful place, didn't offer any help but remained a constant presence nonetheless. It wasn't until after Connor was back in the truck to go park it away from the barn did Ezio finally speak.

"So, Desmond, how soon do you think you'll be ready to go?" the Italian suddenly asked. Desmond blinked at him in confusion.

"Go?" he echoed. "Where am I going?"

"Home of course" Ezio said simply.

Desmond pointed at the cabin questioningly, there? The whole ten feet from them? "No, home as in, your home. Your mission is over"

Oh.

Desmond didn't say anything right away. He glanced back at the truck, wishing Connor would hurry the fuck up and get back here and do…something that would keep him here. He hadn't even really thought about it, actually leaving. It had been only a week and he was already used to the place, going anywhere just didn't seem to be an option. Especially with all the stuff he and Altaïr were planning to do, and…Well…..Being here was enough work on it's own and…He still had to…

Desmond could not think of a reason as to why he didn't want to leave, but he was shaking his head at Ezio.

"No thanks I'll pass" Desmond declined, taking a step away from his cousin. "I just so happen to like it here so…Go suck a dick" and he turned and hurried away to the house, ignoring Ezio's protests. He all but bolted through the door, slamming it shut behind him and went straight for the boys, stepping over discarded plates and squeezing himself between them. They hardly looked at him, only growling at him because he was limited their movement, but stopped when he sat down and stopped being such a nuisance to them.

Not that he needed them to pay attention to him right away, he knew how to get attention from them without saying anything. Knowing their behavior all to well at this point, Desmond flopped his head on Altaïr's shoulder, faking a sad sigh. Both Altaïr and Malik paused their actions, glancing away from their food to stare at him. They seemed frozen in place for several seconds until Altaïr craned his neck over to gently butt heads with Desmond. Desmond had to hide a smirk into the other man's shoulder, this was too perfect.

"What's wrong?" Altaïr asked him, rubbing his forehead against the top of Desmond's.

"Ezio says I have to leave" Desmond said.

"That's what I've been saying since you got here, pup" Malik teased. "How soon though?"

"Tonight or tomorrow. So really super soon" Desmond answered.

"And who says? Just Ezio?" Altaïr asked, and Desmond shrugged, he didn't stick around long enough to find out. But he could hear that little bit of concern in their voices, that "oh really?" in there. This was too easy.

"I don't wanna go, I like it here" Desmond whined. "I like it here with you guys. You're assholes, but you can be fun assholes too...We're pack, you know?"

Got 'em. Even if Desmond was still a bit iffy with the whole werewolf thing, he still knew how it worked with them. And as he had been told plenty of times, pack sticks together.

"You are just a puppy" Altaïr murmured.

"And no one is going to take care of you out there" Malik added. Glancing between both of them, Desmond could see they weren't...there per say. The looks in their eyes, the tenseness of their bodies. Their wolves were reacting to this too. Did their wolves realize that yes, someone in their pack could be leaving? Desmond thought back to when Connor had first left, how the boys tried to do everything in their power to keep him from going anywhere. Were they going to do the same to him?

"Desmond!" Ezio shouted, stomping into the cabin. Desmond shrank back, putting the boys between him and his Italian cousin, his work already done for the day. Altaïr and Malik sat up straighter, plates were set down, and they idly licked at the sauce and grease on their fingers as Ezio approached. Ezio paused at the sight of them, muttering a loud "shit". Desmond felt incredibly smug, having gotten himself behind the two higher forces of the cabin. If Ezio wanted to take him anywhere, he'd have to get through the boys first. Yup, kinda way too easy.

"Desmond, stop playing around" Ezio said carefully, noticeably staring off to the side to avoid getting into a staring match with the top predators in the room. Cause even Ezio knew what a bad idea that was, and it was working quite well in Desmond's favor. What, was he not expected to learn a little something-something while he was here?

"I'm not playing around, I'm really serious. I don't want to go anywhere. I think I'm gonna stay here" Desmond replied, lounging back into some pillows. "Why, are you going to make me leave?"

"And I'm being serious too. They told me just to bring you back as soon as I saw you. Connor's here, you don't have to stay anymore" Ezio said, glancing straight at him for a split second before looking away when Altaïr and Malik bristled at the action.

"Who needs him back that badly, hm Ezio?" Altaïr asked. Ezio didn't answer right away, his face straight, making it impossible to tell if he was uneasy or not about answering that.

"Bill wants him back at Black Hills" Ezio answered.

"No!" Desmond shouted, his heart staring to beat wildly. His dad, he could handle. But back to Black Hills? To the Farm? "Why? What's going on? Did something happen? Why do I need to go back?"

Now he felt like running for real. It had been years since Desmond had been at the Farm, he had so far managed to stay away from there ever since becoming an Assassin. Why would they need him back, why did they need him there? Had he done something wrong? Why, why, why?!

"Calm down Desmond" Connor said out of the blue, walking up towards them. Desmond hadn't even noticed him enter, he was panicking so much. "I'm sure there's a good reason. Right?" the survivalist continued, looking to Ezio. The Italian shrugged.

"That's all I was told. I'm sorry cugino, but you need to go" Ezio said. But Black Hills. But the Farm. No, what for? There had to be a reason, there was always a reason. It couldn't be because they missed him or anything, if they had really missed him they would have dragged him back there a long time ago. Why wait so long? Something had happened somewhere, that had to be it.

"I'm not going. You're gonna have to fucking drag me out if you want me gone so bad!" Desmond all but yelled, and oh god he felt so dizzy. He felt like he needed to run, just get out and go. The Farm, oh no no anywhere but there, oh no.

"You won't go anywhere" Malik reassured him. The boys had been so surprisingly quiet, Desmond has almost forgotten them in his panic. Hell, he had ran straight for them hoping they'd be the force fighting for him, not sitting here and turning into the furniture. "We didn't say you could go anywhere"

"What are you talking about?" Ezio asked the dark haired Syrian.

"We're the Masters in control of this outpost, you're not. Just because his mission doesn't mean he's dismissed, your orders or not. We still need him here" Malik explained.

"I mean, really, it's so much easier having someone else around with us" Altaïr added. "How about some new orders? They can all go fuck themselves, and we get to keep him for a little while longer, how about?"

"As nice as it sounds, I'm really supposed to bring him back, Altaïr" Ezio growled, now staring straight at Altaïr, the lighter haired Syrian staring right back at him. They were locked in place, the eagles in a silent match. Desmond kept glancing between them, watching the muscles in Altaïr's consistently flex and tense, amazed by the sheer willpower he was exerting to keep from letting wolf out a bit more than it already was, or keeping from pouncing Ezio where he stood.

"Let's talk outside, shall we? One Master to another?" Altaïr suggested. Ezio nodded, and he stood. "Be out in a second then" he said, Ezio nodding and making his retreat out the door.

"Don't hurt him" Connor warned.

"I won't. I still know how to talk like an actual person" Altaïr growled before stalking out the door after his cousin. Seconds later he was gone, and now there was just the three of them left in the cabin. Desmond's heart still pounded like mad, but the need to bolt was dying down at least.

"Desmond you need to calm yourself, you sound like a jackrabbit" Malik told him.

"Sorry" he apologized weakly. "But I don't want to go back. Please please can I stay here?"

"Well obviously I say you can" Malik snorted. "As does Altaïr. And Connor?"

"I...I don't think I can object to much at this point" Connor said. "I think I'm outvoted and underpowered to say anything against it"

"But what if they don't listen? What if they come to get me anyway?" Desmond asked.

"Then they better be prepared to keep some overprotective wolves" Connor answered him simply.

Altaïr crinkled his nose at the stench of oil and metal, the faint smell of cheap leather and the overall foreign smell of Ezio's car that had no place here in his territory. Even Desmond was losing his city scent, the smell of the country slowly masking the city. Becoming more wild, more free, more like the trees and of hay and the earth. A natural scent, unlike that of man-made objects. And the tint of pack, his pack, because Desmond was their pup. The pup, he was very unwilling to lose if his wolf had anything to say about it.

"Alright Ezio, let's cut the bullshit. The fuck is really going?" he snarled at his cousin. The Italian leaned against his car, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Altaïr, it's no longer safe for him to be here. A week in one place is a long time for him, he needs to be moved. Bill thinks it's safe for him to be set in Black Hills. They've been tightening their security over there like mad for years, Bill thinks it the place for him to be" Ezio confessed, frowning deeply as he did. Altaïr growled at the very mention of that place. Many, many years ago when he was still a teenager, he had been to it, the Farm. It was a prison hidden in the wild, and he could clearly remember the little boy he had met then. The little boy who had never met anyone outside of the Farm, who hardly had a clue as to what may lie just outside his front door. A little boy who was all too happy to finally have a friend.

And that little boy had eventually grown up and ran away from the Farm. Altaïr couldn't blame him. It was a dark hole in the ground that kept its occupants sealed in tight. That was at least seven years ago. And now was the time to shove Desmond back there? Like fuck. It wasn't just about keeping his pack together, oh no. It was about keeping Desmond out here, in the world where he belonged and not in the ground where he couldn't do or see anything. His panic earlier at the mere mention of the Farm was proof enough that he shouldn't go back at all.

"But why. What is going on? What's happening that no one is telling us, hm?" Altaïr asked.

"It's them. They've been busy. We've had agents keeping tabs on their New York base. And they've been super, super busy as of late. They're up to something, and their activity has only increased. As far as we know, Black Hills is not on their maps, and it's perhaps the safest place for him to be. There's plenty of room for him there to run around and get some exercise when he needs it. They'll even bring in fresh deer or rabbit for him to chase, and he'll have a warm place to curl up and-"

"What are you talking about Ezio? What is this shit?" Altaïr thundered. "Why are you talking about him like that?"

Ezio stared at him in shock and confusion. "You mean he's not infected?" the Italian gasped.

"Why would he be? Did you...Were you expecting that? You thought we'd bite him?" Altaïr demanded, hands curling fists and oh, he could already feel claws digging into his palms.

"Well to be incredibly honest at this point, yes. He was fully expected to be turned" Ezio admitted and very, very wisely bounced away from his car and start backing away from Altaïr.

"You'd think we'd do that to him? Were you also expect us to rip him limb from limb?" Altaïr snarled, feeling ready to do the same to the man before him. "Was this some big gamble? He turns or he dies, is that what you wanted?"

"Altaïr, Altaïr please! Calm down, keep it inside" Ezio attempted to sooth, but no, one did not simply try to sooth an enraged beast like so. His wolf was so close, it wanted out, to punish this intruder in his territory, for trespassing, for trying to break his pack, and for these accusations.

"No! You listen! I would never, ever do that to someone. How fucking dare you, and everyone else think that. We know better. Our wolves fucking know better. Do you think this is fun to us? It's fucking not. I don't know why anyone would want to become this" Altaïr flashed his growing claws at his cousin. Those bastards back at HQ better get it through their thick skulls that Malik and I will never willingly, nor accidentally, ever, turn someone into one of us. I'd take a silver bullet to the head first then do that! Do you fucking understand me?"

Ezio nodded wordlessly. "Altaïr" Ezio whispered. "If anything, I am happy he's okay. I just didn't know what to expect"

"Get out of my territory Ezio. If I see you again it'll be too soon" Altaïr growled, turning to slam a fist into the back of Ezio's car. The alarm immediately went off, every loud wail driving itself into his brain, but he stalked away from it and ignored Ezio from that point on. He stomped past the house, someone, he didn't pay attention to who, ran out to see what the hell was going on. He wasn't focused enough to care. He was more focused on pulling his shirt off, wiggling his pants and boxers off, just needing to go, run, breathe, live.

A howl ripped itself from his throat, and he wasn't in control anymore.

Now he was in control instead.

So Bad Moon has a tumblr page now. You can find it at badmoonau. tumblr. com

There I will put graphics and soundtracks for the story, as well as but up updates for the story. I want to thank everyone so far for reading this story, for liking it and faving it and just being awesome. Come April (or May?), Bad Moon Hell Raisers (this story), and the series on its own will be a year old. It doesn't feel like it's been a year old, but it really has, wow! So an even bigger thanks to anyone who's been following the story since it was first posted. But you're all amazing. So keeps your hats on, we still have one more chapter left in this story, and Hell Raisers will come to end.

But the series, shall still go on.

Open Season hopefully starts soon (it was supposed to be posted about three weeks ago but nyeh)