"Coffee is here," Diana said as she answered the door in one of the Mirage's complementary robes and accepted a room service cart.
"You're a wonder," Xander said as he rolled out of bed.
"So I've been told," Diana replied with a grin.
Xander poured himself a mug and inhaled the fumes. He went to take a sip, paused, and removed his mask. "Did I have that on all night?"
"No, you put it on right before bed to 'preserve your secret identity'," Zatanna told him as she stretched.
"Must have been feeling playful," Xander said and proceeded to down his entire mug.
"Not a morning person?" Zatanna guessed.
"Depends on how much sleep I've gotten, but regardless I am very much a coffee person," he told her. "Oh, that reminds me." He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. "Morning Dawnie."
"Morning Xander! Got an update for me?"
"Indeed I do," Xander said. "I decided to head directly east before I could get sidetracked again and ended up collecting nine hitchhikers, one at a time, who were all blonde girls whose names started with S, wearing bikini tops and cut off shorts, crossing the Mojave desert on foot in the middle of the night."
"Seriously? What am I saying of course you're serious this is you," Dawn said, almost audibly rolling her eyes.
"They all got out to join a tenth one who had almost made it but didn't want to give up when she was so close to finishing the crossing on her own," Xander explained, "so naturally I parked at the visitor's area a couple of miles ahead to make sure they made it."
"Naturally," Dawn said with a giggle.
"So I leaned on one of the heritage signs talking about a local urban legend and waited for the sun to come up."
"And they never showed," Dawn said confidently.
"And they never showed," Xander agreed, making her giggle. "With the sun up I could read the sign which was about The Vanishing Hitchhiker."
"Isn't she supposed to be in the Midwest?" Dawn asked. "I borrowed one of the books Buffy was supposed to read and it talked about her. Truck drivers who gave her a ride would find she had vanished, leaving her sweater behind and when they went to the address she'd given them her parents would explain their daughter had died years ago."
"Well that was decades ago so they've probably passed on by now as well," Xander said. "I guess she got bored and wanted some new scenery, because now she haunts the Mojave desert."
"How many sweaters did you get?" Dawn asked.
"No sweaters, though I am now the proud owner of nine bikini tops," he replied.
"So you made it to Nevada?"
"Yep, got a motel room and caught some Zs until Willow woke me up, having gotten my number from Giles. Oz accidentally let her drink a pot of coffee."
"Chipmunk on meth," Dawn said with a laugh.
"Pretty much," Xander agreed. "I did find out that she'd done the background check on Ted and he's clean. He married a bunch of women who wanted to spend their last years going wild and they did. So yeah, Ted is not actually a serial killer, just an android who had out of date social programs which has been fixed."
"That's good to know, Mom will be relieved," Dawn said.
"I'm in Vegas now, they comped me a room because I can't gamble," Xander said. "Any bet I made auto failed, which meant the people around me would win, so I'm banned."
"Don't you have to be twenty one to gamble?" Dawn asked.
"Yeah, but I look old enough that no one asked," he replied. "So I got a steak dinner with Diana and watched Zatanna's act and here we are."
"Okay, I'll add it to your travel log and send you the updated text file. Love you, bye!"
"Love you too, bye," Xander said and hung up.
"Travel log?" Zatanna asked curiously.
"My friends like to know what I'm doing but I keep leaving things out," Xander explained. "Dawn's writing it all down so I don't have to."
"If I didn't know better I'd swear you were hit with a may you live in interesting times curse," Zatanna said as she stood up. "Nealc dna desserd," she intoned, causing her clothes to fly on and straighten themselves. "While I'd love to stay and talk some more, I have a case to help John with so I'll say goodbye for now and catch you the next time you're in town," she said and vanished in a burst of light.
"I've got a couple more hours until I'm on shift," Diana said, "where are you heading next?"
"I'm heading towards Central City," Xander said, "and then I'll probably flip a coin."
"The Flash's hometown," Diana said, pouring herself another cup of coffee.
"I'm going there specifically to call him an asshole for disarming everyone when we were facing an army of vampires, but that's mostly just to mess with him," Xander admitted.
"You should see The Flash Museum while you're there, it has a lot of interesting exhibits," Diana said.
"I'll make a point of stopping by," Xander said.
"Want to take a quick shower before we head out?"
"Let's dirty up the Jacuzzi instead," Xander said, "most hotels don't have them."
"Even better," Diana agreed with a smile.
Several hours later
"I'm checking out," Xander said, stopping by the front desk. "I'm here to settle up."
"Certainly sir," the young woman behind the counter said, accepting his room key and scanning it. "Your room was comped so there's no charge."
"Really?" Xander asked. "What about the mask and VCR?" He tapped the case the VCR was in.
"Minor things provided on the house since you weren't able to gamble, sir," she said pleasantly.
"This really is a great hotel," Xander said.
"Remember us if you come back to Vegas," she said.
"I certainly will," Xander agreed cheerfully before he left.
Shortly he was back on the road with the sun overhead and Las Vegas in the rear-view mirror when he saw a young woman with her thumb out on the edge of the desert.
Xander pulled over. "Need a ride?" he asked.
"I'd love one," she said, hopping in. "Thanks for stopping, it's getting a bit hot out. Where are my manners? My name's Samantha, call me Sam."
"Alexander, call me Xander," he said with a grin. "Where you heading?"
"That a way," she said and gestured to the open road.
"Then that a way it is," Xander said and pulled back onto the road.
She turned on the radio and the pair sang along with it, her long blonde hair flowing in the breeze.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
"Hey butt pain," Buffy said cheerfully.
Dawn just rolled her eyes. "From your happy face I'm guessing you got the word on Xander getting Angel fixed?"
"What did Xander have to do with it?" Buffy asked, surprised.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Let me get you Xander's travel log."
"Xander's travel log?" Buffy asked, confused, as Joyce came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
"Dawn's been keeping track of Xander's adventurers since the poor boy can't tell a story and keep all the details straight," Joyce replied, "or maybe it's just that a lot of the details we consider important he doesn't. Also, don't call your sister a butt pain."
"Sorry Mom," Buffy apologized. "Xander's adventures? He shouldn't be having adventurers, he's supposed to be on vacation."
"It's Xander," Joyce pointed out.
"And… oh!" Buffy said, eyes widening before she groaned. "Keeps running into supernatural women?" she guessed.
"Only some of the time," Joyce said.
"And here you go," Dawn said, handing Buffy the updated list.
Buffy started reading, stopping several times to stare at Dawn in disbelief.
"Keep reading," Dawn said.
"He's the one who almost gutted Robin?!" Buffy exclaimed.
"Boy blunder shouldn't have attacked him," Dawn said smugly.
"I need to sit down," Buffy said, collapsing onto the couch. "Wonder Woman?" she asked. "Seriously?"
"Keep reading," Joyce said.
"Huh, he met an actual angel, though he's named like a hillbilly," Buffy muttered. "You are not his future wife."
"You don't have a leg to stand on in dating choices," Dawn said dryly.
"Spike did what?! Oh, um yeah, I remember that," she said, embarrassed and continued reading. "Ted isn't a serial killer, the Devil isn't in Georgia, and Xander's vacation is more stressful than actually being The Slayer," Buffy said with a groan.
"No, he seems pretty happy and I did my best to help him… relax," Dawn teased.
Buffy turned to her mom who just gave her a dry look making her realize Dawn was messing with her. "Can we maybe lock Xander in his fallout shelter and ward it to high heaven?"
"Somehow I doubt he'd go along with it," Joyce said, amused.
"Agree to lock me in with him and I'll try to convince him," Dawn suggested.
Buffy groaned. "I know I'm being completely unreasonable, but this… this is insane. This is insane, right? I mean, normal people don't go staking vampires, killing zombies and demons, while busting up child smuggling rings and getting assassins to pay them for it, right?"
"Normal people don't find out about vampires and decide to protect the world from them when they're just teens," Joyce told her.
"He's amazing," Dawn said, "and mine!"
"And dating Wonder Woman… apparently," Buffy said, shaking her head as she tried to wrap her mind around the concept.
"She doesn't do serious for a decade and I certainly will… when I'm older," Dawn said with a frustrated grumble.
"Does Willow know about all of this?" Buffy asked. "No, she'd have been panicking and called me about it," Buffy answered her own question.
"Willow just got his number from Giles and drank too much coffee to ask about what he'd been up to," Dawn replied.
"Who let her have coffee? Oz is supposed to watch for that sort of thing," Buffy said.
Dawn shrugged. "She snuck some past him?"
"What do I do?" Buffy asked Joyce.
"Do?" Dawn asked with a frown.
"I can't keep Xander safe," Buffy said worriedly. "The last couple of years…"
"You've been focused on keeping your friends safe," Joyce realized.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I know I'm supposed to be protecting the world, but it's a big place, hard to wrap your head around, so I focused on my friends. We lost a couple, a few turned evil, or gained powers… Xander is the one I thought of as normal. It really helped to have a goal I could actually achieve, you know? Keep Xander safe and everything else would be too."
"And suddenly a lot of things make sense," Joyce said. "Honey, Xander isn't normal, isn't someone you need to protect. He's outgrown the box you've put him in."
"But it's a great box!" Buffy exclaimed. "It's a safe box, it's a very comfortable box. It's padded and everything!"
Dawn giggled at how earnest Buffy was about her absolutely insane idea.
Buffy slumped bonelessly on the couch. "I know, I'm being silly."
"At least you caught it before you started digging a pit in the basement," Joyce joked.
"I owe him an apology, don't I?" Buffy asked.
"Probably," Joyce agreed.
"Ted could probably use one as well," Dawn suggested.
"What?" Buffy asked, confused.
"Ted, the non-serial killer android that you dismembered," Dawn reminded her.
Buffy winced. "I don't know that he'd want to be in the same room as me, much less hear an apology."
"You can call him," Dawn said. "I have his business card."
"Why do you have his business card?"
"Because he does all the yard work at Xander's place," Dawn replied. "He seriously undercharges too."
"Let me get a copy of that," Joyce said. "With Xander gone I don't have anyone to handle the yard work."
"Xander does yard work?" Buffy asked, surprised.
"And gets all sweaty," Dawn said with a grin, eyes focused on memories of a shirtless Xander.
"The eye candy was nice," Joyce joked. "He insisted on payment in food, one of the many reasons he was always over here for dinner."
"I never noticed," Buffy admitted, frowning at yet another thing she'd missed about her best male friend.
"Should have put windows in the box," Dawn said. "Did you at least include air holes?"
"Big ones," Buffy said, "it's how he kept getting out."
"Well, let me get the card so you can call Ted and apologize before passing the phone to Mom so she can hire him," her younger sister said as she pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and went through it.
"Why do you have so much money?" Buffy asked, seeing the thick bulge of bills.
"Xander asked me to get him some stuff for his place," Dawn replied as she passed Buffy a card. "I'm still making a list of stuff he needs."
"Oh," Buffy said and got up to use the house phone rather than use her cell, in case Ted held a grudge.
"Looks like a lot of money for household supplies," Joyce noted.
"He thought he might need everything and wasn't sure what it all cost," Dawn explained. "Thankfully he's got a lot of stuff from the former owners who died, so he doesn't need much, but I was thinking of having Ted install a washer and dryer since he has the hook ups for them."
"You should probably check with Xander before buying major appliances, but I can go through his cabinets and help you figure out what he needs," Joyce said.
"That would be a big help, plus you have an SUV so I won't have to carry everything on my bike," Dawn said.
"Hello Ted? This is Buffy Summers, I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened…"
Typing By: Abyssal Angel
Beta By: Abyssal Angel and Mist of Shadows
AlphaWolfll - Omake
So i know the journal Excerpts you said were not what you had in mind, but i still Expanded the original Journal Excerpts. A lot of the basic stuff is still the same, but I did add a couple of things.
(Omake) More Complete Journal of Darwin the Werewolf
March 17th, 1879
It has been three months since the bite, and I am beginning to comprehend the scope of this peculiar transformation. The rationalist in me is repulsed by what I am becoming, yet the naturalist—the scientist—finds in this malady a new frontier of study. My body heals unnaturally fast, and my senses are heightened beyond any mortal man's capacity. However, the full moon brings with it an uncontrollable urge, a beast within that seeks to dominate and destroy. Despite this, I hold onto the belief that control is possible, that I can retain my humanity and be more than a simple beast.
Driven by this determination, I must document everything meticulously. Understanding the nature of my condition is paramount, and through careful observation and record-keeping, I hope to find a way to manage or even overcome this transformation. The journey ahead is fraught with uncertainty, but my resolve to find a cure between the beast and myself compels me to persevere.
April 5th, 1879
I have noted increasing physical changes—elongated limbs, sharpened teeth, and an unnatural strength—but it is the transformation within my mind that fascinates me most. My thoughts are clearer in some ways, more instinctual, revealing that the wolf residing within me is not a separate entity, nor a spirit or demon; it is an awakened part of myself triggered by this condition. The urges to fight, hunt, and dominate are primal instincts inherent in all creatures, including humans, suggesting that lycanthropy represents a return to a more ancient, unfiltered state of being rather than a mere affliction. Sadly during the Transformation my Mind is a blur. The Clarity of the mind comes as a small benefit of my current condition when not transformed.
Despite this savage existence, I hold onto the belief that reason can prevail. With study and patience, perhaps a balance between the beast and man can be struck. Understanding that these primal urges are part of a broader evolutionary tapestry gives me hope that control is achievable. My determination to find this balance drives my continued documentation and exploration of my condition, fueling my quest to harmonize my dual nature.
April 12th, 1879
In my pursuit of control, I have begun experimenting with something fundamental: breathwork. Slow, deliberate breaths—four seconds in, hold, and out—help delay the transformation by regulating my physiological responses. The beast reacts strongly to my emotional states—fear, anger, anxiety—and when my heart pounds and my lungs seize, the wolf pushes forward, eager to claim my flesh. By controlling my breathing, I can buy time and delay the onset of transformation, effectively denying the beast the chaos it seeks to harness. Currently only able to delay by a couple of minutes.
Additionally, I have encountered a pranayama teacher whose Eastern breathing techniques offer further insight into stilling the mind and body. His methods, foreign to my English upbringing, fascinate me and may prove invaluable in pacifying the wolf. This combination of breath control and mental discipline is a promising technique, though not a cure, but it represents a small triumph in my quest for stability and mastery over my condition.
April 24th, 1879
I have delved deeper into the practice of meditation, initially viewing it as a frivolous distraction. However, researching Eastern philosophies revealed concepts like "stilling the mind" and "emptying the vessel," which align perfectly with suppressing the wolf's primal urges. Each morning, I dedicate an hour to sit cross-legged in a quiet room, focusing solely on my breath. As thoughts arise, I gently dismiss them, returning to the steady rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. This practice has led to a slower heart rate, relaxed muscles, and a still mind, essential for managing the transformation.
Through meditation, I have realized that the wolf does not wish to dominate me out of malice but out of fear. The beast responds to perceived threats, surfacing as a defense mechanism when I panic, become angry, or frightened. By maintaining calmness, I keep the wolf at bay, allowing moments of control. This understanding has shifted my approach, emphasizing the importance of a serene mind in managing the beast within and reinforcing the effectiveness of my meditative practices.
May 6th, 1879
I have refined my breathing techniques by incorporating mental imagery, significantly strengthening my resistance. Before each meditation session, I visualize a fortress within my mind—a stronghold with high walls that encase me. The wolf, symbolizing my base instincts and animalistic nature, prowls outside these walls but never breaches them. Inside the fortress, I sit calmly at its center, with my breath acting as the drawbridge; each inhalation pulls it up, and each exhalation fortifies the walls. This combination of breath control and mental imagery creates a powerful barrier against the beast's influence. I also use Method of Loci to ensure I have calming or happy thoughts associated within my home granting me home field advantage as they say. This practice not only enhances my control but also instills a profound sense of calm during moments of heightened agitation.
This combined approach proves invaluable during partial transformations, where I can feel my limbs elongate or my senses heighten. By focusing on my breath and visualizing the fortress, I can reverse the transformation to a mostly human form before the beast fully takes over due to the strength of the Moon.
May 15th, 1879
In my research, I began testing various materials to determine their effects on my condition, focusing particularly on silver due to its recurring mention in folklore as a bane to werewolves. Wearing a small silver chain around my wrist resulted in immediate and undeniable effects—the skin beneath the chain burned as if exposed to acid, and the wound healed much slower than normal, indicating that silver is more than a mere irritant. This discovery led me to explore further the properties of silver in suppressing the beast within.
Through subsequent trials, I discovered that even minimal contact with silver weakens the wolf's strength and vitality. In human form, the pain is manageable, but during partial or full transformations, silver acts as a repellent, diminishing the wolf's influence on my mind and making it easier to retain control during moments of heightened agitation. Unfortunately it also acts as a poison to my body. Consequently, I now have silver bands as a crude yet invaluable tool to keep the wolf subdued, accepting the pain as a necessary sacrifice for the sake of control. The pain is not worth it in the long term but I am exploring every avenue I can.
June 3rd, 1879
I have turned to nature's pharmacy, experimenting with herbs such as wolfsbane, sage, and St. John's Wort to manage my lycanthropy. Wolfsbane effectively dulls violent urges and eases transitions back to human form when used cautiously as a salve on wrists and temples before a full moon. However, due to its lethality in high doses, I employ it sparingly. Sage is burned during meditation to cleanse the mind and dispel chaotic thoughts, preparing me for the struggle ahead. St. John's Wort, taken as tea, soothes the mind and stabilizes emotions, aiding me in facing the transformation with clarity and control.
Additionally, I incorporate valerian root tea to calm my nerves and reduce anxiety, lavender oil to lessen tremors with its calming scent, chamomile tea to relax muscles and reduce physical tension before transformation, and mugwort tincture or tea to enhance visualization during meditation. These herbs complement my existing practices, enhancing my ability to manage lycanthropy through natural remedies. Aromas of sage, lavender and chamomile have become prevalent in my home, creating a calming environment that supports my meditative practices. When the full moon arrived, I succumbed to the transformation but remained completely lucid—not entirely in control, yet aware—for the first time.
July 14th, 1879
My experiments with minerals have yielded more surprising results. Much like silver, certain stones exhibit a dampening effect on the beast within, though the underlying reasons remain elusive. Hematite, known for its grounding properties, shows the most promise. When carried on my person, it helps me feel more centered and less susceptible to the emotional swings that precede a transformation, as if the stone draws away excess energy to stabilize my mind and body. Obsidian serves as a mental shield during transformations, providing protection and warding off negative energies.
Additionally, I have noted other minerals such as amethyst, renowned for its calming energy, and tiger's eye, celebrated for its balanced energy, which may offer further benefits, though I have yet to experiment with them personally. Lapis lazuli, known to increase internal awareness, and selenite, valued for its cleansing properties, also present intriguing possibilities. Integrating these stones into my daily regimen could enhance the effectiveness of my existing strategies, offering additional layers of stability and control over my condition. The necklace around my neck with these stones, allowed me to guide my transformed self sparingly. Allowing me to have choices while transformed. A win in the pursuit of control.
August 7th, 1879
Combining silver, herbs, minerals, and meditation has proven to be the most effective strategy for managing the wolf. On nights of the full moon, I meticulously prepare by burning sage and lavender to calm the mind, consuming a tincture of wolfsbane and valerian root, and wearing both silver bands and a hematite bracelet. The pain from the silver is significant, but it is a necessary sacrifice to suppress the beast's influence. I meditate with obsidian in hand, focusing on my breath and the mental fortress I have built, allowing me to delay the transformation for up to three hours before fully succumbing to the full moon. The Silver bands break every time for their construction is deliberate, this is expensive, I will need to forgo Silver bands soon.
This combination of physical deterrents and mental fortifications enables me to guide the transformation to stretch the time rather than be entirely consumed by it. Although the mastery I seek remains elusive, each step forward represents progress. To deepen my understanding and enhance my current methods, I plan to travel, seeking out additional knowledge and practices that may refine my control over lycanthropy. This ongoing quest is essential for transforming my crude methods into a more stable and effective mastery.
September 13th, 1879 [1]
I am in Scandinavia, immersing myself in the study of Norse Berserkers. Through extensive research, I have uncovered passages detailing a ritual that allows these warriors to accept a primal spirit, enhancing themselves with the traits of animals such as bears, wolves, boars, and ravens. The Berserkers access the spirit's fury by entering a trance state, achieved through a herbal concoction comprising mushrooms and other herbs, and by wearing talismans crafted from their chosen animal—be it skinned cloaks, bone necklaces, fur, or feathers. These talismans are integral, symbolizing and anchoring the spirit within the practitioner.
The ritual also involves the consumption of two specific draughts: the Draught of War, which grants full access to vitality and physicality, inducing a trance-like rage that taps into a deep well of strength; and the Draught of Seeing, which allows the drinker to commune or communicate with the animal spirit within. Understanding these practices offers potential insights into controlling my own transformations by drawing parallels between their controlled spirit adoption and my attempts to manage the beast within. The disciplined approach of the Berserkers provides a framework that I might adapt to achieve a similar mastery over my condition.
November 24th, 1879 [2]
I am currently in East Africa, specifically around Kenya and northern Tanzania, studying the indigenous practices of the Zambesi Tribes. One of their most intriguing artifacts is the Tantu Totem—a mystical talisman believed to grant the wearer animal-like ferocity. While detailed information on its properties remains scarce, observations suggest that the Tantu Totem enhances physical prowess and imbues the wearer with the aggressive traits of the animals it represents. Mentions of being a Vessel for a Primal Force.
Additionally, my studies have brought me into contact with the Maasai people of the Serengeti, who employ primal totems, by using fetishes made from animal parts and performing rituals involving acts of hunting or aggression to summon an animal spirit. This spirit grants the ritualist enhanced traits of the chosen animal, thereby enhancing their physical capabilities. However, controlling these spirits is crucial; without the fetishes, practitioners risk losing themselves to their wild instincts, descending into savagery. It is fascinating to observe how both the Norse and Maasai cultures, despite their geographical and cultural differences, have developed similar yet distinct practices to achieve control over Animal Spirits and their primal instincts, offering valuable insights into managing my own condition.
December 13th, 1879 [3]
I have traveled to the Rook Islands, near Southeast Asia and Indonesia, where I encountered the Rakyat tribe indigenous to the archipelago. Their cultural practices include the use of special plants and an alchemical-like preparation process to create a specialized ink. This ink is used to apply tattoos known as Tatau, which serve as totems representing various animals. The most common totems are the heron, the shark, and the spider, though other animals are also depicted depending on the individual's affinity and desired traits. These tattoos are not merely decorative but are believed to imbue the wearer with the qualities and strengths of the represented animal. The Abilities granted seem to draw from intuition taking from instincts buried deep within. Hunting, Stealth, Combat, movements, seeing the warriors in action is fascinating.
While I was not permitted to undergo the Tatau process myself, the tribe offered me a form of divination ritual to determine which totems would have been bestowed upon me. The results were profoundly symbolic: the Wolf, representing my inner beast and survival instincts; the Tortoise, symbolizing persistence and enduring resilience; and the Finch, denoting adaptability. These totems resonate deeply with me, how... fitting.
December 25th, 1879
In addition to my existing practices, I have initiated experiments to deliberately summon the wolf during meditation. Instead of remaining passive and waiting for the transformation to seize me, I aim to draw forth the beast under controlled conditions. This proactive approach allows me to confront the wolf within the safety of my fortified mental landscape, where I can apply my techniques of breath control, mental imagery, and herbal suppression more effectively. By coaxing the beast out at will, I hope to establish a tenuous understanding—or perhaps even harmony—between my human consciousness and the primal instincts embodied by the wolf.
While I can partially shift during this state, the process still exerts a significant toll on me. The mental and physical strain required to summon and manage the wolf is considerable, and maintaining this balance demands relentless discipline. Nevertheless, this method holds great promise, transforming my condition from a passive affliction into an active exploration of my dual nature. Through continued practice and refinement, I aspire to achieve greater control, potentially unlocking new avenues for mastering my lycanthropy.
January 15th, 1880
It has become clear to me that humanity, at its root, is a far more dangerous animal than most care to admit. The progress of "evolution" has never fully removed the beast within us; it merely layered refinement over what was already there. Within every human lies a "Primal Force"—an instinctual nature that can surface when provoked. I have witnessed firsthand how, in those of us afflicted by lycanthropy, this instinct is readily accessible, its ferocity unleashed beneath the moon's gaze. Yet, even ordinary men and women, untouched by curse or contagion, harbor this force referred to as Hysterical Strength. It does not emerge often, for it thinks not of consequences or future gain, only the immediate, visceral now. Its strength and swiftness come precisely from its lack of hesitation or moral quandary.
Why, then, do most never tap into this primal wellspring? Quite simply because it is perilous—an unthinking animality that disregards reason and self-preservation. Without a catalyst—a ritual, a possession, a mutation—these savage depths remain sealed. Only the most extreme duress can shatter the fragile barrier separating human civility from bestial instinct. In this truth lies both a warning and a key, for to understand the primal human is to understand ourselves fully. The realization that humanity's veneer of civilization is thin and that the beast within is ever-present has profound implications for both my condition and the broader understanding of human nature. Lycanthropy serves as a magnified reflection of the latent instincts residing in all individuals, revealing the delicate balance between reason and primal force. By studying and mastering my own transformation, I gain insights that could potentially illuminate the hidden depths of the human psyche.
August 15th, 1880
At last, I live in balance. I walk between two worlds—one of refined thought, the other of primal might—and find they are not so separate after all. Though cursed, I have discovered unexpected gifts: heightened senses, swift healing, and a deep connection to nature. These were always within me, I now see, just dormant. To those who may one day read these notes, know this: you are not alone. The battle is not an external one against a nameless foe. It is a struggle within, to accept and harmonize every facet of your being. There are other cultures, Naguals, the Jaguar and Eagle Warriors, and many more. That I have not gotten the opportunity to understand yet already I see similarities, and potential insights to glean.
I write now as both Darwin, the man, and the wolf. We are not enemies, but partners. A balance, hard-earned. To any who find this journal, know that you are not alone in your struggle. You are not a monster—unless you choose to be. Reason will prevail if you allow it, but do not cast aside your nature in the pursuit of control. You must accept what you are, what we all are—creatures of this earth, torn between the animal and the Unknown. Learn from this, grow from this, and you may find yourself stronger than you ever imagined.
December 31, 1880 [4]
To whoever has found and read these collected notes, I extend both a solemn warning and an invitation to deeper understanding. I write to you with fascination and caution regarding what I have come to call our "Inner Animal." Though the specific curse of lycanthropy marks my own circumstances, and so my personal "Wolf" prowls just beneath the surface, I now firmly believe that all humans harbor a similarly primal force within.
Through my studies—both as a naturalist and as one afflicted—I have come to realize that humans, having begun as basic animals, have not shed those ancestral instincts; rather, evolution built upon them, layering new ideas, beliefs, and social mores over our original, untamed nature. Far from being expunged, those primal urges merely lie dormant, hidden behind our learned civility. For most, these feral depths remain buried, unearthed only by sudden bursts of desperation—like the phenomenon of "little old ladies" lifting a cart to save a child. In such moments, the mind's usual restraints slip away, and raw survival instinct rises unbidden.
Yet there exist circumstances—whether possession by a feral spirit or demonic force, or an affliction such as my own—that render this primal side more accessible. In my case, the Curse of the Wolf greatly amplifies my natural vitality, allowing astonishing feats of speed and strength. But this power surges without regard for pain or consequence. The body races forward without any safeties, tearing down its own protective barriers. When the change subsides, I am left near collapse, so thoroughly spent by a force that has little interest in preserving my long term well-being. Indeed, my only salvation is that the Wolf itself—or the Curse—absorbs much of the damage, shielding my mortal frame from immediate destruction. Over time this fatigue has lessened with practice and diligence. Whether this is the curse growing in strength or the human body being capable of adapting and resilience I am unsure. Those who have felt the rush of the Primal Force find being able to tap into that well of vitality and ferocity far more easily than those who never have.
It is not only were-creatures or the possessed who hold this potential. All humans possess an "Inner Animal" that can be triggered under dire threats or intense emotional upheavals. The reason so few access it willingly is its inherent risk. This Primal Force is, by definition, concerned solely with the immediate moment—instinctive and driven, unconcerned with morality, future harm, or personal cost. It is faster and stronger because it never hesitates to protect itself—or to destroy a perceived threat.
Nevertheless, there is more to the Inner Animal than blind savagery. There is also an evolutionary wisdom buried in these instincts. Heightened senses sharpen one's awareness of danger; intuitive "gut feelings" can be uncannily accurate, and the body is capable of remarkable feats of strength and speed. However, to engage these abilities without self-annihilation requires discipline. Some can harness them through rigorous training, meditation, or breathwork. Others learn because their brush with possession or a Curse grants them fleeting opportunities to observe that beast in action and, in time, forge a fragile partnership that with time strengthens.
I write this letter at the close of my journal as both a record and a guide. My intention is not to encourage reckless pursuit of powers that lie in shadow. On the contrary, I wish to highlight the delicate balance between harnessing one's primal instincts and avoiding total surrender to them. In these pages, you will find my experiments with herbs, minerals, and mental fortifications—methods that have allowed me to slow or delay my transformation, or at least remain clear-headed for a few precious moments. I hope my experiments give you insight into ways of handling your condition. The key, as I have discovered, is respect for the beast within. Deny it entirely, and it will unsuspectedly force its way through with devastating consequences. Embrace it blindly, and you risk losing your humanity altogether.
Thus, I bid you caution and humility should you seek to tap your Inner Animal for yourself. Know that the line between self-empowerment and self-destruction is perilously thin. Yet, take heart: you are not alone in your struggles. This primal force dwells within us all—an inescapable heirloom from our animal ancestry. Mastery lies in acknowledging its presence, understanding its nature, and learning when to restrain it…and when to let it guide a single moment of life-saving strength.
May these notes prove useful, and may you walk the delicate path between man and beast with wisdom and care. I remain a wanderer of this grey domain, straddling two natures, in hopes that others might find a gentler fate.
Yours in earnest contemplation,
Charles Darwin
End of Journal
So here is the "Full" Journal. It's still just excerpts but more in detail than before.
Breath - Mindfulness is important.
Meditation - Understanding of oneself and gain calmness.
Herbs - Nature helps, plants to hurt but also heal. Slow yet effective.
Minerals -Stones, Rocks, and Gems, carry within energy. (with magic being real, why not the supposed spiritual benefits of Crystals/Minerals actually be real)
Primal Force - Darwin finds similarities with how different avenues carry similar benefits.(Werebeasts, Totem bearers, etc) (Can be interpreted as various things, The Red or something else)
1 - I was not the only one thinking about Berserkers, nice! (Chapter 41)
2 - Specifically DC, Vixen i forgot about her, also added some of the lore to the Primal Tribes of BTVS(added Fetishes as a control factor that the zookeeper either overlooked or ignored). (Chapter 40)
3 - So… Far Cry 3 takes place on two islands. I thought it would be interesting to have a slightly different approach to Totems and Animal Spirits. It's a small enough place that I'm sure it can fit anywhere.
4 - I wanted to implement where Xander learned about the human condition(Chapter 39). The journal helped him. So I can see it being the last entry within the journal.