Full Speed Ahead, Standing Still (James Silvius)

[rowanashke]

Patrick was tired.

He'd been wandering again; this was well within his pack's normal territories, although there were no other members around him right now. He'd sent them back. No sense in bringing them into possible danger simply because his wandering feet refused to be still. Ever since he'd sent Ella off, he'd been more and more restless. Something was coming, and it made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

He sighed and passed his hand over the back of his neck. Then he froze; he could smell vampire all around him. Pressing himself against the wall, he attempted to look casual, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He couldn't tell where the smell was coming from, only that it was strong. And recent. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he had to physically restrain the urge to change. Not here. Not now. This isn't the night for this. You're alone, vulnerable and tired. But this is pack territory; you can't just leave this alone either.

If he'd been a swearing man, he would have. Instead, he pushed away from the wall, his head swinging from side to side as he attempted to locate the source of the nasty smell.

[*James Silvius]

James padded through the streets as a wolf. His fur shone silver like the moonlight. That was how he earned his last name, Silvius. Gavin had given it to him. He was no longer a part of his old family. Gavin's pack was all he had now.

The reckless 18 year old boy was out for blood. It was completely against Gavin's wishes. "Wait until tomorrow," he had said before James ran from their den, "After I've cleared up some business with Tobey, I'll go out with you." Gavin had placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed in a fatherly manner. Gavin knew there was no stopping him. He just hoped that he wouldn't find any trouble tonight.

The not too large but not too small silver wolf had a somber expression on his face. He missed Artemis, he missed Claudius, he even missed his dad. His dad. The man who beat him for five years while that filthy bloodsucker lived with the small motherless family. But it wasn't his fault. The monster had him under her mind control.

Most of all, James missed his mother. His real mother. He wished more than anything he could remember her just a little better. The sacred memories he held of her were old. She died when he was only nine. But he had Gavin now, and his pack. He knew he must leave one day, but he could never bring himself to do it. Maybe if he found another wolf companion...

James caught the scent and froze. It was him. The sour and putrid odor of the vampire he'd been tracking for weeks now was near. James could literally taste it. Oh if only his fur was a little darker and didn't glow! Then he would have the element of surprise he desperately needed. Tonight it would cost him, since the vampire turned up to be right behind him, and he had friends.

James swallowed. He should have listened to Gavin! There were too many of them, five he counted. They surrounded him threateningly. James bared his teeth and growled. The vampires merely cackled. This was one fight James knew he would not win. Nevertheless, he sprung forward and jumped one of the vampires.

Another bloodsucker got behind him and threw him off, and then another sunk it's disgusting fangs into his fur and then in his skin. Suddenly, they were all on top of him. James yelped loudly. This was it. Getting killed by the creatures he vowed to destroy. And Gavin wasn't here to save him this time.

[rowanashke]

Patrick sensed the source just as he heard the yelp of pain; without further thought, he sprang forward, skidding around the corner to witness the vampires converging on the shifted were. Baring his teeth, he launched himself the nearest, shifting as he went. When he reached his target, he sank his teeth viciously into his shoulder, paws scrabbling on his back. The vampire let out a howl of surprised pain.

Patrick's focus narrowed to destroy. Ignoring wounds, pain or blows, he continued to savage the vampire's flesh. When the vampire collapsed, he sprang up, blood streaming from his jaws, to launch himself at the next one.

He was beyond thought. All that mattered was the vampire's destruction; he didn't even consider the fact that he really couldn't destroy them in this form, just hurt them. It didn't matter. His rage was singing through his veins.

[*James Silvius]

James had just about given hope. The vampires wouldn't let off and he couldn't move any of his limbs. He yelped again and closed his eyes. Maybe if there were only two, he could get them off of him, but five... he never fought five before without the help of his pack. He felt like he was suffocating under the cold bodies of the vampires. Light was growing dim, and he knew he would pass out soon.

Suddenly, the pressure let up. James lay there, panting, afraid to move. But he wasn't hurting anymore. Instead, the vampires were the ones screaming in agony. James lifted his shaggy head to find another wolf fighting the vampires! It was no wolf James had ever seen before. He looked strong and not at all like an 18 year old boy.

James was eternally grateful. he would never leave Gavin's side again after tonight. But before he returned home, he had to help this wolf. James leaped and pounced on a vampire, pinning him down on the floor. The vampire's face was a mixture of surprise and fear. James tore his teeth into his torso. Vampire blood tasted dreadful, but he kept ripping his way.

Another vampire, seeing this, threw herself on top of James, trying to pull him off. James relented and was tossed a few feet. The wounded vampire wasn't moving, the female vampire dragged him away. Only two left now...

[rowanashke]

Patrick shifted as he lept again, and his hands, now bloody, wrapped around the vampire's throat. He knew he couldn't choke them, but it made a lovely hold for him to toss the blood-sucker into a wall. He spun around, his lips pulled back from his teeth, and the vampire seemed to freeze a moment. Then he grabbed his fellow vampires and melted into the darkness.

Patrick's instincts screamed to chase-chase-kill-destroy-hunt-chase-KILL. He dropped to the floor, panting harshly, and curled his hands into fists, fighting the instincts savagely. He was hurt; the other werewolf was probably hurt, and they were alone. Wounded or not, five vampires on the defense could prove bad to corner. Forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths, he shoved and shoved his wolf-side down until the human once again emerged. A see-saw, a sort of Jeckle and Mr. Hyde thing.

Not poetic, and not pretty. But it was what he was, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[*James Silvius]

James was astonished. Before he could even think of going after the remaining vampires, his rescuer shifted back to human, charged them, attacked them viciously and then they were gone.

It took a moment for James to gather his bearings, and it looked the same for the other wolf. Never in his life has he seen such anger. The man was positively fuming. If James didn't know any better, he'd say the older man let the wolf come out of him every night and not just on a full moon.

James was different. Oh sure, he had a reason to fight and the claws and teeth to do it. But ever since his first transformation, he was deathly afraid of losing himself to the beast inside him, and therefore his reason.

But curiously, the man James looked at now with luminescent eyes sort of, in a way, had the anger under control. James desperately needed this quality if he was ever going to complete the task of ridding the world form the vampire scum. Not even Gavin could help him with this.

James barked to get the man's attention, and then dove behind a mailbox. He emerged a human in a pair of jeans. He'd left the denim pants there before he shifted.

James was a handsome 18 year old boy. His black unkempt hair hung down over his forehead. Big almond-shaped eyes were brown and speckled with green. His face was very angular and long. It bore his bleak and cheerless past. James was lanky and skinny. He stood at 5'3. The few muscles in his arms, legs, and abdomen were gained from his many runs with his pack.

Tonight he didn't look remotely like this. He was saturated in blood, blood, and more blood. Puncture marks were dotted all over his body; his neck, chest, arms, legs, the vampires showed no mercy.

Blood seeped through his his pants, giving them a spotted affect. His worst and most gruesome wound was where one of the vamps dug her nails into the were's shoulder blade and then tore them down the length of his torso and around into his stomach. It was a deep one.

He was a mess to say the least. They got him good tonight. If the other were hadn't stepped in... he didn't even want to picture what his remains would look like. James walked slowly over to where his rescuer stood, slightly limping. He cleared his throat, still hoarse from all the growling and yelping.

"Thank you. If you hadn't come..." he shuddered and the trunk of his body hurt. "My name is James. James Silvius. Those vamps are going to come back with reinforcements. My pack's fought that coven before and they are no quitters. I'm a little far form my pack's den. Paris isn't our home and these streets are unfamiliar to me. Would you mind it very much if I went with you?"

James was reckless, but he wasn't stupid. In the condition and situation he was in, he had to have the help, and his pack was no where near here.

[rowanashke]

Patrick shuddered at the other's bark; the last of his instincts reared up and he nearly took a swipe at him. Bottling it, he bit his lip until it bled, standing and stretching slowly without looking at the other. Once he was fully in control, he turned, his eyes flickering over the werewolves' body. Crap-he was going to have to get him inside quickly. Not only was he going to be weak, but his blood was a siren's call, a sort of roadsign with flashing lights. 'Here we are, we're weak and damaged. Come finish us off!'

He studied the boy's face a moment, then sighed. "Come." he said simply. He was naked; his clothes were gone. Not that he cared much. Limping slightly, he walked over and picked up his coat, which he'd discarded in his first charge, and slipped it on. At least it was something. "Patrick Smith." he said softly, swiping his tongue over his lips.

He glanced at he boy again, then wearily cocked his head. "Follow me. It's not far...can you walk on your own?" He hoped so. He didn't think he was in the shape to carry him. Not that it mattered; if it was necessary, Patrick would do it.

He hurt; every bone in his body hurt. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and this kind of thing, on top of a short amount of sleep, was almost too much. He wasn't old, either, but he was starting to show the affects of a long, hard life full of fighting; his lean, muscular body was heavily scarred. He limped towards the nearest pack-house, coughing a bit; that big swipe had hit him in the side, and he winced. Probably not broken, but very bruised.

[*James Silvius]

James took in Patrick's features. He looked as bad as himself. Both of them smelling like a butcher's shop was not a good thing. The sooner they got off the streets the better. He looked middle-aged to James, maybe a little younger. James was careful not to look at his waist and down. It became a little less awkward when he put the coat on. But whatever. He was mature.

James noted Patrick also had a limp. He was almost sorry that the guy had to fight a load of vampires for him, and that probably wasn't the last of them either. It was James's fault he was involved. If he'd just listened for once...

"I can walk, just not very fast," James responded. It was good that the place wasn't too far or maybe Patrick would have had to carry him. It was difficult to move his legs, and his back hurt from that gash which didn't want to clot anytime soon. His life.

"Listen, I'm sorry about this," he said cautiously as he caught up to Patrick and matched his pace as best he could. "I'm not really supposed to be out here. It was stupid," he admitted.

[rowanashke]

Patrick glanced over at him, smiling. "Yeah, it was." He said gruffly, but his smile eased the sting. "Don't worry about it. You're young; hopefully you learn from this. Come on...the sooner we get inside, the sooner we can get patched up. And I can get some pants..." he'd noticed the other's careful-to-not-look attitude. It amused him; he didn't have a nudity hangup, and while his taste definately ran towards women, he didn't have anything against those who preferred their own gender.

He shrugged, then led James through the streets to his house. He hadn't locked the door; good thing, since he wasn't sure where his pants were. Kicking the door open, he paused, his hand outstretched to stop James from entering, and sniffed cautiously. After a moment he relaxed; there wasn't anything he shouldn't be smelling. "Sit at the counter; I'll grab some clothes, then patch us up." he said, wincing as he limped inside.

The apartment was shabby; obviously lived-in. But scrupulously clean. A few battered knick-knacks were scattered around the living room, and a few battered cups, an old tea-kettle, and a single pan sat on the stove. It was clear Patrick wasn't the cooking kind of man. A single picture hung in the livingroom, a sightly blurry, old picture of a group of people standing together, happy and laughing. Patrick's very young face was in the center of the group.

[*James Silvius]

James chose not to answer Patrick. The damage was done, but he didn't seem very angry with him. Maybe if he wasn't tracking those vamps, they wouldn't have picked that particular street. He sort of forced them there, herded them almost. He would have to tell Patrick this. Finally, they reached Patrick's little home. Good thing, too. James wanted to sit down and rest. He hoped it would be for a little while before those vamps came back. He was most certain they would.

Patrick kicked the door open. Maybe it was for dramatic effect? It seemed like it was unlocked to James. James was looking down at his feet when he nearly bumped into Patrick's outstretched hand. He stopped himself just in time. When Patrick gave the all-clear, he followed him into the house.

James obeyed his elder and carefully sat his bleeding and sore self down on one of the chairs by the counter. He watched Patrick go into one of the rooms to get some clothing. James looked around the small-ish living room. It looked like a place his pack would stay. It was clean. Gavin prided himself in keeping his pack places that were neat and tidy. James spotted the lonely picture hanging on the wall.

The young men, perhaps near his own age, looked like they were having a good time the day it was taken. James couldn't relate. He was never happy. The only time he actually liked his life was during the years before his and Artemis's ninth birthday. 'Happy birthday, Artemis and James, your mom just died of cancer' were not the words that he, his sister, and little brother wanted to hear that day.

[rowanashke]

Patrick slipped into a pair of loose draw-string pants, shedding his coat onto the bed and opting to ignore a shirt for now. Limping into the bathroom, he grabbed his first-aide kit; he kept them well stocked just for moments like this. Then he returned to the kitchen.

"Tea, coffee, juice...?" Patrick asked. "Are you hungry?" He laid out the medical supplies on the counter, eyeing the other man. "You'll need to take that off." He pointed to the tattered shirt, his expression wry. "So I can get to the wounds." He himself had gotten off fairly lightly; mostly brusing from when that bastard had thrown him, and he thought he'd overstretched his tendon in his leg again. Not hard to do once you'd done it once. The various smaller scratches and gouges were already starting to clot; he'd swipe them with antisceptic and call it good. Vampires tended to have clean nails-about the only nice thing you could say about them.

[*James Silvius]

"Nothing for me, thanks," James wasn't hungry or thirsty. The thin boy got used to small portions of food since he joined Gavin's pack. The pack wasn't poor or anything, they just favored hunting animals over chips and hamburgers. James didn't like the taste of animal very much. Since their pack house wasn't stocked with the usual food a teen would eat, he just wouldn't eat at all.

James took off his battle-destroyed shirt carefully. He couldn't help but wince, that wound was a doozy. He sure hope Patrick had a lot of bandage on him. He wasn't comfortable with people touching him. The only person he would really allow to give him more than a pat on the head was Gavin. But considering the circumstances, he supposed it would be okay for Patrick to clean him up.

"I have to confess now. I was tracking those vampires. I forced them into that street. If it were any other street, then I wouldn't have brought you into any of this. Anyway, rest assured they will track us down again. Maybe if I called Gavin, my pack leader, he could somehow lead them away from here?" he said quietly. He had a guilty conscience. He could never sleep soundly it this information didn't' get out.

[rowanashke]

"Mmm." Patrick said, unrolling his bandages and eyeing the boy's wounds. He moved to grab a washcloth, wetting it from the sink and considering his reply.

Honestly, he didn't really want-or need-a pack of other weres running around on his territory. Call him old-fashioned, territorial...paranoid...but he didn't really like to call for outside assistance. Especially now...while things were so unsettled.

He moved to stand behind the younger were, nibbling on his cheek thoughtfully. He could sense the other's dislike of his nearness; he exterted himself to the fullest, trying to both be stern and soothing at the same time. "Hold still, this might hurt." he murmured, then began to clean the wound, being as quick as he could.

"Don't worry about it." He finally said in answer to Jame's worries. "We're not a small pack, nor are we defenseless. If they track us here...then we'll deal with it." He finished cleaning the wound and dried it, then grabbed a tube of ointment. "It wouldn't be the first time. Nor would be have trouble dealing with four vampires, if they attack the home." He glanced up at James' face, his eyebrows quirking. "Thanks for the offer, though."

[*James Silvius]

So he wasn't going to call his pack tonight. He sure hoped they weren't too worried about him. He would return home right after this whole mess was sorted out. He had to wonder though, what was Patrick's pack like? Were they like him? Letting the wolf out of them every night? His pack was a more gentle one, they tried to avoid fighting with vamps until Gavin brought James home with him. Now they only focused on protecting the young boy from harm.

Patrick was right to say "this might hurt". It did. James gritted his teeth as the water and ointment stung him like a hoard of bees. When he first looked at it, he was sure he would need stitches. Now, the blood was starting to cake around the wound. There would be a major scar in it's place.

"If you don't mind me asking, back there in the street, you seemed... temperamental. Like a wolf on a full moon. You had to restrain yourself from taking a chunk out of me. How did you get like that?" he asked.

[rowanashke]

Patrick was a little startled by the question; finishing the cleaning, he began to bandage it, hissing a bit as he knew this had to be hurting the younger quite a bit. "What?" he blinked a moment, then raised his eyebrows.

Finishing the bandaging, he sat back, studying the boy's face. "Hmm. You don't give into the wolf-call?" He asked slowly. He couldn't imagine it...but then again, not every were was walking around with the hatred, rage and helpless anger he always had running in his veins. "I hate." he said simply.

Rising, he stretched, then grabbed the rag and walked to the sink to rinse it out. "I hate." he repeated, sighing. "I hate so deeply and passionately that it's easy. I give into the hate, the beast. And the beast merges with the wolf, and I become feral. It's easy to let in, harder to shut away. It's not pretty, nor am I proud of it."

He shrugged, turning and starting to wipe at some of his scratches. "But it's necessary, for me." He speared the boy with his eyes, suddenly and completely switching to his Alpha, his prescense filling the kitchen with the sheer force of his personality. Then, almost casually, he 'switched' it off. "It's not that much different from that." he said quietly.