Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/subscribes to this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. It belongs to people much wealthier and more creative than myself.

Pairings: Shane/OC sexual relationship, possibly romantic later.

Warnings: Rated M for graphic content, including blood, gore, death, violence, profane language, and various adult situations. Readers under the age of seventeen are strongly discouraged from continuing further. Also, this is a Shane story written by a Shane fan, so if you don't like Shane, then please turn back and spare yourself the trouble of reading about a character your dislike. Finally, be advised that I am a slow updater, so do not expect the next chapter of this to go up for a while yet.

THREE: ANIMAL

"What the hell happened to me?" Shane yelled, storming back into the dining room where Becca and Bass still waited. "What's wrong with my eyes? And my teeth! What the fuck's goin' on?"

Bass growled and opened his mouth to say something, but Becca quickly snapped, "Sebastien Dawson, if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'm gonna bust ya upside the head with one of these chairs."

The room went silent as both men stared at her as though she'd just breathed fire at them. "Goddamn it, Dyke, when I told you my full name I didn't expect you to give it out to everyone we came across!" Bass complained.

"And I didn't expect you to act like a brayin' jackass every time I needed to explain somethin' to someone," Becca retorted.

Shane looked at Bass and laughed. "Your name's Sebastien? Really? Your mama watched too many soap operas, didn't she?"

"Oh, don't even fucking start, Shithead," the younger man hissed, rounding on Shane. "Just because my name isn't one of the pathetic little inbred hick names that float around down here doesn't make it stupid."

"All right, enough!" Becca snapped, interrupting the fight before it could begin. "Y'all already had one fistfight today, so stop."

Both men glared at each other as though they might ignore her, but eventually, Bass scoffed then looked away. "Fine," he spat. "You explain this shit to the idiot, then. I'm gonna go blow off some steam before someone dies."

With that, he stormed out of the room, intentionally shoving against Shane as he passed. Shane turned and growled at the younger man, a heartbeat away from attacking him again, when Becca reached down and pinched him on the backside. He flinched and whipped back around to pin her with a smoldering glare, but she just looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, seeming entirely unintimidated. "Ya wanted information, right?" she asked, sitting down in the nearest chair before nudging another one toward him. "Take a seat and let's talk."

Shane paused, a bit taken aback at the sudden seriousness in Becca's tone, but finally sat down in a careless sprawl, leaned back, and waited. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, and then asked, "What do ya know about the creeper sickness?"

He scoffed and gave her a look of pure disbelief. "Ya really askin' me that? Shit, Becca, everyone still around knows what it does. Ya get bit or scratched, ya get sick and die, then come back as one of them. That's pretty much it."

"Nope, not it," she countered, shaking her head. "Well, yeah, if ya get bit or scratched like ya said, that does happen, but it ain't the whole story at all." She paused and raised two fingers. "There's two things you should know, the first of which I'm sure some folks out there are already findin' out. The first thing is that everyone—and I do mean everyone—is infected with whatever it is that makes creepers. I dunno if it's a virus, or parasite, or what, but if ya die of anythin' that ain't brain trauma, your corpse-y ass is comin' back like a bad penny, whether you were bit or not."

"Bullshit!" Shane exclaimed, looking at Becca as though she was crazy. "That can't be right."

"Right or not, it's true. I've seen it myself, up close and personal. You die, then ya come back, but that ain't all. There's actually two different versions floatin' around. One's the creeper sickness you've already seen. The other one's a bit rarer, and I've been callin' it the hunter version. That's what we have."

"Sounds like somethin' out of a bad sci-fi movie," Shane muttered, still staring at Becca, who was now pacing back and forth in front of him. "So what's it do?"

Becca stopped pacing and looked down at him. "Well, like the creeper sickness, it brings ya back, if ya didn't die of some kind of brain trauma. The thing is; you're still you, but different. Your eyes and teeth change, and that's pretty much it for visible changes. But there's a lot of internal changes, too."

Before Shane could ask her to elaborate, the sound of shrieking undead, followed by a string of profanity coming from Bass drifted in from outside, and Becca rolled her eyes in disgust. "Damn fool has to make a big production outta everythin'," she muttered. "The fuckers ain't even a threat to us, aside from eatin' everythin' in sight, but he acts like he's fightin' a damn horde of orcs or somethin'. Now where was I?"

"You were sayin' somethin' about internal changes," Shane prompted, impatient to get a complete explanation.

"Right, that. Ya see, your eyes and teeth change, but so do your senses. Your low-light vision's a lot better, though you're still blind in total darkness, and your hearin' and sense of smell improve. More importantly, there are changes in your brain that help ya process that new information."

Shane raised an eyebrow at that. "And how the hell would ya know that?"

Becca shrugged. "It's rather obvious. I mean, do ya really think a normal human brain is equipped to figure out all the new sounds and smells and shit it didn't know before?"

He paused to think about that, and then asked, "Almost like a lil' voice in the back of your head?"

Her eyes lit up at that. "Exactly! I imagine if ya were born this way or changed as a lil' kid, ya wouldn't notice it at all, but since ya changed as an adult, your brain had to come up with a way to process the new information."

Shane nodded slowly at that, as the explanation did make sense, but then scoffed a bit as something else occurred to him. "Didn't ya just say someone had to die for this to work? Now, I dunno about you, but I don't feel dead…" He paused, letting his gaze roam over Becca's body, and then continued. "And from what I recall, you were pretty damn lively yesterday, too."

Becca smirked and walked over, straddling Shane's legs so that she could sit on his lap while facing him.

*mate…?*

He pushed away the nagging little idea, but still raised an eyebrow, returned her smirk, and then asked, "So what? We gonna sit here and talk about the first thing to come up?"

She snorted at that, but instead of replying, she unbuttoned his shirt and opened it, letting her fingertips dance lightly over his tattoo before coming to rest a couple of inches below it. Curious, Shane looked down to where Becca's fingers rested, and felt a chill run down his spine as he spotted a scar he had never seen before. A bit less than an inch long and an odd pinkish-grey color, it rested in the center of a purplish-yellow bruise that almost appeared as if it slowly faded the longer he looked at it. "The fuck?" he exhaled, moving his gaze up to meet Becca's, silently pleading for some kind of rational explanation.

"Now Shane, I'm no doctor," she began, standing up again, then stepping back and lifting her shirt a bit to show a few of her own pinkish-grey scars, "But I am an expert in knife wounds, and that is most certainly a knife wound. Someone shanked your sexy ass, Deputy."

Shane continued to stare at her, a bit of a goggle-eyed look ruling his expression. "Who? Why?"

Becca shrugged. "It's the end of the world. Whoever did it could've done it for all sorts of reasons. Like I said; any livin' people were gone by the time me and Bass found ya." She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "What's the last thing ya remember before wakin' up?"

The way she said it, Shane knew she didn't mean it as in waking up this morning, so he wracked his brain, trying to dig up the most recent memory he could think of. "Dale…the old bastard was all pissed off 'cause we were finally gonna get rid of that lil' fucker, Randall, so he took a walk. Got himself torn up by a walker, and Daryl put him down before he could turn. That all happened at night, though…but what happened after that?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, with the heels of his palms pressed against closed eyes. "Why the hell can't I remember?"

"It's all right," Becca told him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "No one else I've met since this started happenin' remembers theirs, either."

Shane looked up at her then. "Others? Ya mean others like us?"

"Well, yeah. Ya didn't think we're the only three in the entire world, did ya?" She smiled and shook her head. "Nah, we ain't that special. Hell, we actually ran with a couple others for a while, but one just up and vanished one day, and the other…well, let's just say that some people aren't cut out for some of the requirements of this lifestyle."

"Requirements, huh?" Shane scoffed. "Ya mean to tell me there's some kind of rules and regulations for comin' back from the dead now?"

Becca chuckled at the rather disgusted look on his face, then replied, "Well, yeah. Didn't think ya got somethin' for nothin', did ya?" Then she shook her head and looked away. "C'mon, let's go outside for a bit. I'll finish explainin' things; I swear…I just wanna make sure Bass's dumb ass ain't out there causin' any more trouble than usual."

Without waiting for a response, she sauntered out of the room, leaving Shane still sitting in his chair and scratching his head in no little confusion.

…

A few minutes later, Shane made his way outside, stopping on the expansive porch and looking around. The day was cloudy and grey, and underneath the stench of old smoke and rotting flesh, he could smell ice on the wind, meaning autumn had fully settled in and winter would not be too far behind it. Numerous walkers littered the yard, some still shuffling around, while most lay where they fell, apparently victims of Bass's temper tantrum.

*cold wind…smoke…blood…dead-kin…not threat…where same-kin…rival…female…pack-mates…?*

The thoughts rolled into Shane's mind as he looked around, his head swimming a bit, as the new sensory impressions threatened to overwhelm him. Following the trail of fallen bodies, he eventually spotted Becca and Bass, and made his way over on increasingly unsteady feet. Bass continued ripping into a walker and paid him no mind, but Becca heard his approach and turned to face him. "You all right?" she asked, eyeing him with a mixed look of wariness and amusement.

*cold…wind…blood…light…pack-mates…prey…dead-kin…leaves…grass…clouds…death…*

Shane wanted to answer, but the world sang, and his senses swirled with all sorts of connections and feelings he never knew were even possible, let alone how to deal with. Becca and Bass both shone like beacons in his vision, while the few dead still milling about appeared as dull, human-shaped embers against the dark background of the world around him. He wanted to speak, to laugh, to run, to cry; he wanted to fly apart in a thousand different directions at once, and he did not know how to deal with it. He took a step forward or at least tried to, but the world reeled about as it sang, and he nearly fell, until Becca caught him, easily slipping her smaller form underneath one arm to lend him support. "Yeah, I should've figured this was gonna happen," she said, mostly to herself as Shane struggled to keep his balance. "Thank god we've got some damn shelter while ya go through this."

*mmm…female…my female…mine…*

Becca's scent surrounded him like a warm blanket, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy as he leaned down to try to nuzzle her ear—or, at least, that was the plan. The reality was that Becca staggered a bit under Shane's weight, and the two of them toppled to the ground. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" she groaned, sighing in exasperation as he snuggled her tightly.

"Mmm…" he responded, burying his face in her neck and hair and inhaling deeply.

Becca let out a small, exasperated sigh, but wrapped her arms around Shane and cuddled him back, even as Bass sauntered over, gnawing on what appeared to be a human arm. "So…" he drawled, looking down at the two of them with cold amusement. "You and Shithead having fun?"

She flipped him off in response, as Shane gently licked the side of her face with the tip of his tongue. Bass raised an eyebrow at that, and then laughed. "Right, I forgot about that. Dumb-fuck is high as hell right now, isn't he?"

*same-kin…pack-kin…rival…?*

Shane's eyes snapped open then, and he stared up at the younger man with a look of confusion before releasing his hold on Becca and clambering to his feet. "The fuck are you doing?" Bass growled, hefting the dismembered limb in his hand as though he might bludgeon Shane with it as he stumbled closer.

"Bass, if ya hit him with that creeper arm while he's tryin' to figure ya out, I'm gonna jam it up your ass," Becca told him, her voice full of false sweetness as she got to her feet and dusted herself off. "Just go ahead and let him learn who ya are and learn who he is. It ain't like ya gotta fuck him or somethin'."

Bass's blue eyes narrowed, but he stood still as Shane finally reached him and pulled him into a hug.

*male…not-mate…pack-kin…dark-spice…blood…death…anger…fire…*

The little 'voice' at the back of Shane's mind took what he sensed and painted a picture of the world and the people around him. Becca smelled of wind and sunlight, whereas Bass smelled of something deeply spicy and crushed leaves in the late night hours. She tasted like blood, and flowers, and freedom, while he was metal, and smoke, and aggression. Those sensations, along with so many others, clicked in Shane's mind, and somehow, he knew that he would always be able to tell who they were, though the reasons why evaded him. Eventually, the feeling of warm fingers gently stroking down the back of his got his attention, and the world shifted back into normal focus as he turned his head and looked back to see Becca grinning while she stroked him like a cat. "See?" she said, not speaking to Shane. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Confused, Shane turned back and saw Bass glowering down at him, a muscle near his left eye twitching in irritation. When Bass noticed Shane was normal again, he roughly shoved him away before belting him across the head with the severed arm. Dazed, Shane staggered back a bit, his gaze darting between the appendage and the bloody grin the younger man now wore. "Did—did you jus' hit me in the head with a fuckin' walker arm?"

Still grinning, Bass was completely off-guard when Becca snatched said arm out of his hand and whacked him in the face with it. "GAH! What the fuck, Becca?" Bass roared, looking at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. "You said not to hit him while he was learning my scent and shit. You didn't say anything about after!"

"I was standin' right there, ya fucktarded ass-clown!" she snarled back, hitting him again. "He stomped on my fuckin' foot when you shoved him and that shit hurt!"

His rage quickly fading, Shane watched the goings-on with interest as Becca struck Bass a few more times before tossing the arm to the ground and storming away. He followed her, his movements still slow and unsteady as the world threatened to sing again, until she took pity on him and turned to face him. "It's gonna be hard," she told him, watching him with a carefully blank expression.

*tiny prey in the grass…wind…cold…sky…shelter…food…warmth…pack-kin…mate…?*

"What is?" he responded, his dark gaze shifting wildly about as he drew closer to Becca.

"What you're currently experiencin', dear," she said, letting him wrap his arms around her once more. "You ain't quite sure what's going on, and the world is suddenly more noisy than you'd expect, given that's it's supposed to've ended and all."

*safety…warmth…my female…*

"It…it's like the world's singin', but I dunno the words to go with it." Shane squeezed his eyes shut and trembled, but didn't release his hold on Becca. "I feel like one of them tweakers when they've gone crazy. The only things makin' sense are you an' Bass, an' I can't figure it out."

"That's 'cause there aren't any words, Shane," she explained, letting her fingers stroke his spine in a soothing motion. "It's all animal. It's the parts of ya that don't need words, don't have eyes. Those parts need information that they can handle, and this is how they get it."

Sensations went by in a dark-bright blur, and he shuddered at the force of them. A small whimper escaped his throat as he clung to her as though she was the only thing anchoring him to reality. Bass approached the two of them, but stopped at a safe distance and gave them a curious look. "All right, Becca, in all seriousness: is he gonna be all right? I don't remember whimpering like a little kid the first time this shit happened."

Becca gave the younger man a baleful glare. "That's 'cause you're a fuckin' sociopath, and probably ate or humped everythin' ya came across until ya snapped out of it."

*pack-mate…rival…threat…?*

The world finally stopped singing again, so Shane released his death-grip on Becca, and turned to glower at Bass. "The fuck ya want? Why the hell are ya still carryin' that walker arm? Hell, why do ya even have a walker arm?"

"Um…because I wanted a snack?"

The answer was innocent enough, though Shane found it completely bizarre, and he looked back at Becca for an explanation. "Whatever this shit is that changed us turned us mostly carnivorous," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "We can still eat normal food, but it doesn't really do anythin' for us, unless it's somethin' with some fat or protein to it. Dumbass over there…well, he tends to eat anythin' that moves, including creepers."

"And he hasn't died from it?" Shane scoffed. "Figured that shit'd be poisonous or somethin'"

"Well, the local scavengers can still eat the damn things, so they aren't toxic, but I fully admit they taste like ass," Becca told him, before heading back toward the house.

He trotted after her, his curiosity roused. "You've eaten a walker? Why?"

They made it to the porch before she stopped and answered him. "If ya go too long without eatin', anythin' starts to look good. Creepers are nasty, but they'll save ya from starvin'." She shook her head. "I'd much rather go hunt somethin' down than have to snack on one of those."

"All right…I know we have food. Hell, we just ate not too long ago…so why's Bass eatin' a walker arm?"

"Because he's batshit crazy, and I learned that it does no good to bitch at him about it. I figure as long as he's not eatin' live people, it'll be all right." Becca rolled her eyes in disgust as the boy joined them, and snapped, "Ya ain't bringin' that nasty thing in the house!"

"But I'm not done with it yet!" Bass protested, cradling the arm a bit possessively.

"I don't give a flyin' fuck! Finish it or throw it away; ya ain't bringin' it inside!"

"Fine…" With a huff, Bass turned and chucked the well-gnawed arm out in the yard, then turned back to Becca. "All right, so what's next?"

Becca looked at Shane, then back to Bass. "I figure that we can hole up here for a while, at least until Shane finishes adjusting to the changes. After that? I dunno. We'll figure it out as we go."