Bright sunshine forced its way through Faith's eyelids and she turned her head to shield them, only to find her face suddenly engulfed in a thick mane of fur. She twisted her face upward, noting how parched her mouth was as she sputtered, blowing a stray hair from her bottom lip and her eyes flew open. She looked down, finding that the weight pinning her into the bed was a giant black creature. A hodgepodge of a beast somewhere between bear, man, and wolf, was curled tightly against her. Her gaze flickered from the sunlight streaming in through a gap in the drapes to the massive creature using her as a pillow and she blinked in confusion.

"Cal?" she croaked softly, her mouth and throat felt positively arid.

The beast whimpered sleepily, nuzzling his head against her in a way that could only be interpreted as "just five more minutes", and she sighed.

Great… The guy I'm supposed to be marrying is a freaking giant bear-dog of a werewolf… Now what?

He should've shifted back by now, right? Did something go seriously wrong with the spell? Is this gonna be a one-way ticket to Furville?

Her stomach clenched and she worked her throat, trying to swallow the lump that had formed there.

She shifted up into a sitting position, using slayer strength to move Callum's shaggy head enough to slide out from underneath him. He snorted in his sleep, burrowing his snout into the sheets bunched at her side and she bowed her head to study him. The wolf took well over half of the queen-sized bed and she was a little surprised the bed frame hadn't cracked under the weight. The long shaggy black fur covering the wolf's muscular form was soft to the touch and she sank her fingers in, scratching him behind the ear. He was calm at the moment but she wasn't sure what to expect when he woke up.

She shook his shoulder, rocking him forcefully. "Cal? Callum? Wakey wakey," she said, shifting her legs so she'd be ready to bolt if needed.

The wolf startled awake, eyes blinking as he looked around the room and up to Faith. "Callum? You in there, babe?"

He tilted his head quizzically, one ear twitching adorably in silent question.

Faith blinked, eyes locking with his. "Is it really you?"

In answer, Callum's tongue darted out, licking one broad stroke up the side of her face. She reared back in surprise but didn't move off the bed. "Yuck— Dude, you've got some killer doggy-breath there," she huffed in disgust, wiping a trace amount of slobber away with the palm of her hand, even as relief blossomed within her chest.

Callum gave her a doggy grin, tongue lulling comically as his bushy black tail wagged like a metronome.

Faith glared at him. "You do realize it's daylight and you're still a wolf?"

He dipped his head, looking down at his paws, and swung around, inspecting his new body, an odd mix of man and beast, the limbs too long for any canid in nature. His large eyes glanced to the window and back to Faith, a whine emitted from his throat and he lowered his head to nudge the underside of her chin. Faith wrapped an arm around his head and she borrowed her face into his fur as she held him against her shoulder.

"We're going to get to the bottom of this, I promise," she murmured reassuringly while Callum snuggled in close. "There is no way we're calling off this wedding on account of wolf."

(*)

Faith's arm rested between Callum's shoulder blades, her fingers gripping into the fur at the back of his neck as they exited the bedroom. Callum had taken a few minutes to figure out how best to move in his new body while Faith dressed for the day.

As uneasy as this current condition made him, it was also sort of amazing. Freeing in a sense, which was odd since he was literally stuck in a wolf's body with no idea how he was supposed to get out of it. His biggest source of comfort (aside from Faith's close proximity) was the fact he was fully in control of himself.

Now what about his job, his family, and of course Faith?

He glanced up at her and considered how strange it would be for anyone passing them in the corridor to see Faith walking alongside a large wolf-like creature whose shoulders easily came to the curve of her waist.

A sinking feeling settled into his chest. From the moment he'd realized the wolf had bitten him he'd been worried (scared out of his mind really) that Faith might call the wedding off, run from him and the life they'd been building together in a desperate act of self-preservation. As though she were a bird he'd caught in a net and held captive with nothing more than a single thread tied to one leg. Ready to flee at the slightest hint of a reason, and hell if being turned into a freaking werewolf wasn't a damn good reason.

The prospect of losing her now was unimaginable and yet he honestly couldn't blame her if she called things off. It occurred to him that this twisting feeling in his gut, the fear of rejection, was exactly what Faith had been afraid of for so long. He'd already known on some level to be sure and yet only now could he truly understand.

But there she was (at least for now) hand firmly planted within the dense fur between his shoulder blades. The act comforting both of them in equal measure. Her fingertips stroked his fur and he gave a contented little chuff, nudging her side in reassurance when a thought hit him.

The entire reason he was able to think so clearly— was Faith. She had agreed to the spell without hesitation. In fact, the decision had been made, and whatever deal there was between her and his mother, had been set in stone by the time he'd even got to the castle. It was simply understood.

His heart spasmed within his ribcage, thoughts rolling around in his head, even as his senses were going haywire. The scent of furniture polish, all-purpose cleaner, lingering pockets of perfume from spots where the girls liked to congregate, tickled his nose, and the scent of something delicious wafted up from the kitchen. His stomach growled and he looked up at Faith in question.

"Yeah, I'm starving too. Let's find some grub and then we'll see if we can figure out what's going on here," she answered, throat tight with emotion.

Callum sidestepped into her to brush against her hip. His claws clacked on the stairs as they bounded down toward the kitchen, his parched mouth began to salivate as the aroma of a roast cooking in the oven grew stronger.

Meat…

His stomach growled again and he gave a pleading whine, unbearable hunger twisting his gut as they entered the kitchen. Callum went straight to the oven, licking his chops as he peered through the glass to the roasting pan inside. It was several seconds before he realized Faith was talking to someone he hadn't initially noticed through the haze of his new and somewhat overwhelming sense of smell.

What the heck is that smell, wet dog?

He looked down at his massive paws and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Or maybe that's just me…

Brilliant, now I'm the one making bad dog jokes… Bad—uhgg… Spike is gonna be bloody insufferable.

He cut off that line of thought when the sound of his name caught his attention and he wheeled around on all fours to finally see who Faith was talking to.

Faith was eyeing him with an expectant glare as though she'd been trying to get his attention. He blinked, stepping forward to nudge her hand, and nodded towards the table where a pair of strangers sat at the large table with Giles and Willow.

"It's alright, they're here to help," Faith said with a shake of her head before striding to the sink and helped herself to a glass of water. She drank it down in one long pull and grabbed a large mixing bowl from the cupboard, filled it with cold water, and sat it on the floor for Callum.

As hungry as he was, and curious about the visitors, he was also desperately thirsty and began drinking with enthusiasm.

"Huh… You don't see that every day," said the unfamiliar man with pale skin that contrasted with unruly reddish brown hair that stuck up in odd directions. The small man sat beside an even tinier woman of unspecified Asian features with long black hair worn in a braid slung over her shoulder. There was something about the pair… Something oddly familiar despite having never met them before.

"Certainly not," Giles tisked, then addressing Faith he asked, "You're sure it's Callum who's in control and simply not a magically docile werewolf?"

Faith refilled her glass and nodded. "It's him, I'm sure of it."

"That's a good sign," the woman interjected, her words heavily colored with an accent Callum was unfamiliar with.

Faith sipped her water and cleared her parched throat. "I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and assume Cal and I were out way longer than we thought and the K-9 unit is here working on the 'why is my fiancé still wearing a fursuit' question."

Giles shifted in his seat, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "To put it indelicately, yes. It just so happens the two of you have been asleep for nearly four days. In which time Callum hasn't shown any signs of shifting into his true form. We've been rather worried about the two of you. How are you feeling?"

Stunned, Callum straightened, ears twitching as he watched Faith process the information, sure that she was thinking along the same lines he was when her eyes briefly found his.

Faith set down her now empty glass and cleared her throat. "Starving and mega dehydrated but otherwise 5x5. Oh, wait! No, we're not, Callum is stuck in full wolfman mode. I didn't even know that was freaking possible!"

Willow stood, a guilty pinch playing on her lips. "Well at first we— well we just thought it worked and you guys were just really tired and needed serious rest but then, after the second day…"

Faith's brow furrowed. "So is that when you called in the hippie-wolf?"

Callum turned his head toward Faith, and huffed at her terrible joke. Granted, their visitors were giving off some pretty strong flower-children vibes and a slightly herbal scent but there was something else—something stronger.

And it hit him.

The scent he'd caught earlier, it wasn't a dog, and it definitely wasn't himself. It was another wolf.

He sniffed the air again, this time the scent seemed to separate within his olfactory center, redefining itself into not one but two distinct scents.

Two wolves.

The werewolves he'd been hearing so much about since the attack, Willow's ex and his wife.

Willow crouched down to examine Callum with interest. "We already came up with a few ideas about what's going on here. Are you up for a few magical tests?"

Callum tried to answer, really he did, but it only came out as a low bark and he laid an imploring paw on her forearm.

"Good. So ah… He seems big with the cooperation," Willow hesitated as she stood, looking over her shoulder to Oz and Bayarmaa. "This is at least half of a good start."

Ruby stood, brushing a hand along Willow's arm as she crossed the kitchen to check on the roast in the oven. Callum's hopeful gaze followed her as she rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out the makings for a salad, setting everything on the work table along with a knife and cutting board and got to work.

The smell of the roast was getting stronger, distractingly so, and he nearly missed the conversation still swirling around him.

"Oh sure, it's terrific!" Faith huffed. "So you're gonna run some tests. And then what? Does anyone have anything resembling a solid plan for getting him back to normal—or at least on two legs for most of the month?"

"This is what we wish to learn," Bayarmaa interjected. "You can not expect us to act blindly."

Faith pinched the bridge of her nose, looking unusually haggard, and nodded. "I just wanna get him back…"

Callum lifted his head, directing his full attention to her as he stretched forward onto his front paws and settled onto the floor with his chin resting on Faith's foot—the best reassurance he could lend.

"I dunno, the fella's drooling at your feet, seems pretty normal to me," Spike drawled.

A low, short bark came from Callum along with an annoyed doggy glare directed at Spike.

"Relax Cujo—" Spike held his palms up in defence.

Just then, the oven timer went off, catapulting Ruby and Giles into food preparations and the conversation was lost in a confusion of plates, cutlery, and most importantly to Callum—food.

Callum practically inhaled his portion of roast Faith dished out for him along with the leftover half a ham in the fridge Ruby sacrificed for the cause. Stomach full and his thirst finally sated after several refills of his bowl, Callum laid under the table with his large head resting on Faith's foot while the others ate and talked about things like energy work, chakras, blockages, and various magical techniques and practices he'd never even heard of which was saying something given the number of conversations he'd been privy to in his mother's shop over the years.

The conversation made his head spin and he suddenly regretted eating as fast as he had. He was just wondering if he should run outside in case his stomach revolted on him when Faith slid her chair back enough to look down at him expectantly.

"Sounds pretty painless. I say it's worth a shot, what do you think?" Faith asked.

Callum tilted his head and blinked. He'd started tuning out the conversation when they'd started talking about something called reiki and had no clue what he'd missed.

Faith's expression shifted into mild annoyance. "You completely zoned out, didn't you?"

He nodded his head and slunk out from under the table to sit beside her, trying his hardest to look apologetic.

"It's cool, buddy, all you really have to do is lay there and let Bay do her thing," Oz interjected with a calm easiness Callum found almost jarring.

Less than ten minutes later, Callum found himself being ushered out of the kitchen, onto the grounds behind the castle by Bayarmaa. The others had been instructed to stay in the house. Faith's absence from his side irritated him in a way he'd never experienced in his life and he couldn't help wanting to turn back. Instead, he turned his attention to the tiny woman walking beside him, her brightly colored skirt and the hand-knit duster she wore swirled around her ankles. There was something otherworldly in her demeanor that he couldn't put his finger—or paw on, but he figured that was precisely why she had come all this way.

Bayarmaa stopped abruptly, spread her arms wide, and turned in a circle on the spot, taking a deep breath and Callum was half convinced she was about to burst into song. Instead, she snapped to attention in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"This spot will do." She gave him a disarming smile before adding, "If you would please sit or lay down, we can get started."

He honestly didn't know what to make of her but he did as he was told and sat, still watching her intently.

Bayarmaa took a seat behind him in the grass and he twisted his head around to watch her settle into her own meditative posture with legs crossed beneath her long colorful skirt.

"I'm not going to harm you—you can rest—or 'chill'," she said with a slightly awkward laugh that made him think it was a term she didn't use often and only picked up from her husband. "Just get comfortable, focus on your breathing, and simply be…" she murmured dreamily.

Although meditation wasn't exactly part of his daily routine, it also wasn't a foreign concept. Callum found himself inching into a relaxed calm as Bayarmaa quietly talked him through the process of the reiki session, her hands and the occasional crystal hovering just above the surface of his fur. Even though she barely touched him directly he was certain he could feel an odd shifting sensation at the base of his spine that seemed to twist upward through his gut before blooming into a wave of nausea.

"Ahh… I think I see the trouble…" Bayarmaa announced, a grimace audible in her voice, "Your chakras are clogged with stagnant energy." She waved a long crystal point over his back, momentarily resting it at points along his lower and mid back and between his shoulder blades. She made a "tisk tisk" sound as she moved to the back of his neck, ears, and the top of his head. "You carry much guilt, shame too—Let me see if I can just—"

All at once he was gripped by the odd sensation that Bayarmaa was plucking clumps of muck from deep within his very being, pulling it from within him like taffy. An intense internal pressure lifted, leaving him momentarily breathless as weight lifted from his body.

Callum gasped, the cool air of the evening filled long-forgotten space in his lungs. Eyes wide, he whipped his head around to find Bayarmaa now standing.

Hovering between her palms was a softball-sized, dark-colored yet dimly glowing ball. As he watched, she rolled the ball between her hands, shifting into a stance he recognized as a tai chi move, she pushed the ball down toward the earth. Suddenly, beautifully glowing tendrils of greenish-gold magic began surrounding the murky ball of energy, seeming to purify it even as the object was pulled downward into the ground.

"What the hell was that?"

Bayarmaa staggered back, regaining her balance as she lifted her head to face him. "While that is certainly an interesting question, Mr. Ross, it's not half as interesting as your current situation," she answered.

Until that moment Callum hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. His throat felt raw, and his mind sluggish as he looked down at himself—his very naked, human self. His cheeks flamed and he attempted to cover himself with his hands.

Bayarmaa waved a dismissive hand before reaching for her waist to unfasten a scarf tied around her like a belt. She unfurled the multi-colored batik fabric, handing it over to him.

"My husband and I are both werewolves, living in a village of werewolves—nudity is nothing new."

Callum shivered in the cool breeze as he fumbled with the cloth and stood. "Ah—well yeah—I can see that—" He cleared his throat, pausing to wrap it around his hips— "soo ehh… Thanks for getting me on two legs, I—"

"Oh we are far from finished," Bayarmaa interrupted. "All I did was remove an energy blockage. Until we figure out where it comes from and deal with the root problem, I'm afraid this is bound to happen again."

His hands froze on the knot, his eyes meeting hers. "So what do we do now?"

"Now, you talk to Oz."