Chapter Text
Jack Abbot was half convinced he was the only man aside from the asshole that bit him to be afflicted with this condition. Though honestly he didn’t entirely mind it tended to get a bit lonely.
The man had always enjoyed the outdoors though so spending one night a month running through the wilds outside Pittsburgh wasn’t something he would ever complain about. Yes, he was a leg short, but he managed to hunt to stave off the ache of transformation just fine. Honestly, he lived with this beast for so long he had simply gotten used to it. His late wife knew and accepted him— she had always been too sweet to him really. He didn’t deserve it. He could see the fear in her eyes when he got too close on those nights, smell the panic clinging to her the nights leading up. He couldn’t help but feel relieved some days that she no longer needed to put up with him— the guilt came shortly after, burning his finger with the ring he refused to take off aside from when he had to transform. He learned the hard way that transforming with it on was a horrible mistake. The ring hadn’t allowed for his paw to transform properly and left him in agony the entire night— writhing against the floor, unable to move.
Jack learned quickly how to adapt to his new life. Once he got back from deployment, sans a leg he went to work at the Pitt, and really that was the best thing for him. He hated feeling useless, and while he knew Lilly loved him, watching her skitter around him like he was a monster was overwhelming. Their marriage was over long before she died, really. They stayed together, but that was mainly friendship, not what they once had. She was easy with him, but they both knew she simply couldn’t leave him— not like this. As soon as he was able to, Jack switched to night shift. He claimed it was so he could help take care of the house during the day with Lilly, but really it was because the day was more fatiguing on his body. He could feel the agitation of the night, begging him to join it like, siren song in that wine dark ocean. He was, without question, a creature of the night now.
He did try to keep up with normalcy, really. He learned to pack on food the days before transformation to avoid the starvation pains that melted away at his consciousness. He learned to go out camping before he transformed to avoid a wolf in Pittsburgh, how to hunt, how to stay hidden, and that Denny’s was the best place to go the morning after because he blended in with all the other haggard strangers haunting the diner. He adapted. He was okay— it was lonely, but it was okay. No one but his wife knew about his secret, and that was all he needed really. She was his best friend, and while she was terrified of what he had become he knew she still loved him— still cared. When she died, that festering pit in his stomach threatened to drag him down with her. He could still taste the barrel lodged between his wolfish teeth— the metal warming with his hot breath. He could still hear Robby’s fist at the door, the window breaking, and the relief he felt when the gun was pried from his grasp. He hated himself for considering it— hated himself more for not following through.
_______
Jack woke with an itch in the back of his throat, his mind taking a few moments to rid itself of lingering fog as he coughed deeply. He didn’t exactly get sick anymore, which was likely one of the few benefits from whatever the hell he contracted all those years ago. Two or so decades, really.
He ran a hand over his face, wiry hairs prickling his palm, biting at the still sleep sensitive flesh. He groaned, low and gravelly as he cracked open an eye to read the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was early— too early really, but he needed to hit the road now if he wanted to be out of here and to his usual camping ground before nightfall. He let his hand fall from his face as he reached for his phone beside the clock, reading through junk messages before his eyes fell on Robby’s.
‘Have fun out there dog boy’
He scoffed, rolling his eyes before shooting off his response.
‘Always do brother’
He thought for a second before sending off another text.
‘Tell Shen he better not spill his damn coffee on my hub again’
He set his phone back down, not caring to wait for a response as he sat up slowly, swinging his leg over the side of his bed before rubbing at his aching stump, an unfortunate reminder of the incident— as well as the shit weather tonight. The man huffed, pulling his forearm crutches off the wall before pushing himself up from the bed.
It didn’t take long for Jack to be in his truck and on the road, gnawing on beef jerky as he made his way further and further from the city. He always had to remind himself it was better this way— but he hated the drive. He occasionally thought it would’ve been better if he went into rural medicine, but he knew he enjoyed the rush here so much better. This is where he was needed.
Jack smiled as the sign for the old campsite came into view on the road, veering his truck to the overgrown dirt path leading to it. It had been decommissioned some time ago— the place rotting away from people’s memories each year. The sign was barely even a sign anymore, really. It was just a plank of wood missing all of its markers of ever once housing cabins on the vast expanse of acres. It was near a farm which he had enjoyed— a couple had bought it and now the woman was a widow… she felt so young to be alone and pregnant. Jack could feel his heart strain for her but knew it was odd to worry for someone you never met. He liked keeping track of who owned the farm though in case it ever became a problem for his monthly needs. He’d be remiss to find a place like this again.
He pulled into the lot for the old camp, the sun still bright in the sky. It was only about a 30 minute drive— he could have stopped for coffee or some food. He usually did— it was odd for him to not have, really. His skin was beginning to feel as though it was stretched wrong on his skeleton and it made him want to be away from everyone— the ache in his bones like a hydraulic press, threatening to crush him.
Jack panted through the pain— running his tongue along his teeth. It felt appropriate now that people had always said he looked like he had dog teeth. They felt too sharp— too large in his mouth. His jaw wanted to splinter like a log struck by lightning but he knew he wouldn’t have that luxury as he swung his leg out from the truck and connected with the gravel of the lot. Jack used the side of the truck for balance as he pulled out the crutches.
He could hear his heart pumping in his ears, louder and louder as the sun slipped down the horizon. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed— time felt like a lie now as he undressed in the haze of dusk, his body shining like a sliver of the moon, pale and twisting as he folded his clothes and stashed them just shy of the edge of the forest— in a hollow he always used. The wind chilled his exposed, hairy flesh, silver ringlets of hair growing thicker along his freckled back and stomach, engrossing his body, whimpering escaping his elongating maw. He gripped at his face— his head spinning— the world spinning as the forest floor suddenly folded closer to him as his knee buckled and he collapsed. The man rolled on the ground, huffing out as he waited for the transformation to pass.
Times passed by excruciatingly slow yet entirely too fast— body tearing apart, growing, splintering.
Jack panted, his body finally done shifting. The pain in his stomach gnawed at his mind, drawing him to his paws. His muzzle was stuck to the forest floor, rooting around for the small traces of scent, ebbing forward slowly. He could feel his consciousness slipping further and further away from him— fleeting like the tide being sucked back. He knew he should have eaten before transforming— now his mind felt as though it were floating, the sound of it dissipating between his ears until his inner self was nothing more the a fuzzy idea long ago.
He lapped at the blood on his maw, face buried into a deer. He knew he killed it yet couldn’t remember when or how. His silver tinged dark ears pricked as a twig snapped— whimpering drawing his attention to a thin, sickly looking beast, his curly blond hair clinging in clumps to his frame, those watery blue eyes shifting to the ground. Abbot shifted with a mild growl, allowing the young werewolf to edge closer. He huffed, bowing his head, and with that permission the blond dug in.
Jack felt there was something almost angelic in the way the boy ate— those blond curls soaked in blood. It felt holy in a way that was blasphemous. Jack supposed it was good he no longer believed in a god. He smiled, noticing the slight bulge in the pups stomach as he ate too fast. Jack couldn’t remember when he last was like that— his brain did a good job blocking it out. It was one of the small blessings from this curse really— if starved, everything becomes blank. It made living with hurting people easier. The consciousness falling away to animalistic desires. He did his best to prevent that, making sure to eat before transforming— tonight was the first time in a long time he hadn’t and now he was missing an unknown amount of hours between when he transformed and gorging himself on a deer.
The blond werewolf settled after a moment, panting hard. Little remained of the deer and Abbot couldn’t help the small swell of pride that his hunting was well appreciated. He may not be a doctor at the moment, but he always wanted to care for others, and now he learned he wasn’t alone in the godforsaken world and he couldn’t let his first lead go die of starvation. Or maybe it was the fact that the pup reminded him of Robby’s pet resident, Whitaker. They had only met briefly during the Pittfest shooting as well as other odd events like the occasion night shift or shift change. He seemed like a sweet kid though— close to his colleagues, especially Santos which Jack approved of. She had strong nerves. She would be good for the spineless kid. Maybe it would be good if Dennis was a werewolf— he certainly needed something. Jack’s attention snapped up when the blond began to whine again, scrambling off rapidly, stumbling over brush, his fur catching on burrs. Jack almost gave chase, but that’s when he felt it— the ache, the tug, the shifting. The slip of the moon into the horizon— the escape of his only companion he found. The tufts of blond glowing in the fading silver light, stained with blood.
_______
Jack took a wet wipe from the center console of his truck, dragging it over himself. This was the part he truly dreaded— the cleaning up of the night’s actions. He wanted to vomit up the blood and deer he consumed but he knew it would be pointless. His body had used it to fuel his transformation back into a human. He remembered trying to throw it up the first few times— now he didn’t bother. The bile in his stomach churned, threatening to heave despite his resolution in not vomiting.
He sighed, glancing up at the rearview mirror as he adjusted it to look better at himself— his mouth and hands stained red to match bloodshot eyes. Red really might be his color— it made his hazel eyes more green and vibrant. He snorted, dragging a fresh wipe over his face, the fabric tugging at his thicker stubble, tainting the smell of cleanliness with copper.
The drive home felt shorter than the drive to the camp, his thoughts swimming in wheat blond curls, blue set in them like sapphires. There was something about those eyes— a fire in them. It flickered briefl— he was almost positive he had imagined it— something about the boy covered in blood stirred something deep within him and for a second he believed himself to be drowning.
‘I survived’ he shot the text over to Robby without much thought. It was normal for him— habit more than anything.
Jack sank into his shower seat, not nothing with the water temperature as it washed over him. He watched the red cling to the water, swirling around the drain. He stared until the water ran clear, elbows propped on his knees, his head hanging. Only then did he straighten up and shampoo his hair, his rough fingers scrubbing at his scalp. The boy had smelt of oats. It hadn’t occurred to him until now— he was so stuck on not being alone that he didn’t take in the other until just now.
His eyes bore into the ceiling of the shower as though expecting an answer to fall from it in the glow of the morning sun, yet nothing came. Figures it was his luck to finally find someone and feel lonelier than ever before because of it.