Blood Bane

Michael and the beast manage to come to an agreement.


1. Blood Bane

Blood Bane

There was blood in his mouth, and gristle in his teeth, he could still taste the flesh on his tongue as he poured the green mouth wash into the lid of the bottle and knocked it back into the regions of his mouth. It took Michael a second to swirl the contents around before he spat them in the porcelain sink. The chunk of skin from his teeth resided there before he turned the tap on to wash it down the plug hole.

He could still taste the blood in his mouth, tingling on his tongue. The skin of his hands were raw and cracked as he scrubbed at them more and more under the boiling hot water. He remembered this feeling from last time, the uncleanliness from being bitten, the pain long and ragged as his partner had dumped the antiseptic alcohol onto the gaping wound that had stretched from thumb to forefinger. The drug tests had come back negative, as well as the diseases all except the blood abnormality no one could quite explain. As it turned out the Tweaker had given him something much worse than HIV or Hep C.  

That had been the beginning of something new. The beginning of more pain, and more rage than he cared to admit, the monster had started to take control not long after that. The first time he'd been completely wild and feral, as for the second, third and fourth, they were blotches on an already stained canvas.

He had killed again tonight, as unintentional as he tried to fool himself into believing it was, he was aware that His Wolf had ripped the other wolf's throat out on purpose. As it turned out nor he or The Wolf didn't take threats lightly, not towards someone he cared about.

Michael looked down to see that his hands were bleeding now, his own blood from the harsh bristles of the nail brush as it grazed his skin. The vibrant red splashes chased the water into the darkness of the plug hole.  

This had to stop. He couldn't continue like this any more. The Wolf had control over his body and limbs for a three day period of time, every month and the mess it left was so disturbingly destructive.  

Michael hunched over the sink his throbbing hands clasping the porcelain tightly as he bowed his head. He was out of control. His nostrils were flaring at the raw stench that arose from his clothes. He felt the monster shifting inside his, stirring as if in sleep. It was tired and sated for now. This time after the hunt was the only time it wasn't actively influencing his decisions.  

He picked up the black handle to the carving knife, he had taken from the kitchen and clasped it tightly in his right hand before stepping into the steaming hot bath. The water scalded his skin, turning his skin rosy pink and causing him to hiss through his teeth as he dropped his entire body into the boiling water.  

The knife had been a culinary gift from an old girlfriend, one he had actually decided to cook for once upon a time it had come in a set, he had long since been able to use due to his condition.  

The blade was sterling silver. He placed the tip against the skin of his forearm, it was like acid eating at his flesh as he dragged the blade down the soft underside of his forearm until it reached the curve of his wrist. A vivid red line appeared as blood bubbled to the surface and streaked down his tanned skin.

The wolf was up in an instant, he could feel it in his head, teeth bared, snarling as it scouted his mind for danger.  

He tried to switch hands, but his grasp was slick from the blood that was now trailing down his left arm. He fumbled with the knife, pressing it against his skin again and accidentally slicing it across his forearm instead of along it. His head was spinning a little now, his eyes fixed on the water as it plumed red, the blade of the knife burned as he pressed it a second time to his right arm, with his left hand. His head was aching, there was roaring in his ears, the wolf was bashing around in his brain, causing all sorts of mayhem. He feeling sick now and the hand that was clutching the knife was falling limp. It was now that he realized he should have cut the right arm first.  

The knife slipped from his fingers and into the bathwater, he heard the plop before feeling it graze his inner thigh. He didn't understand why he felt relieved that it had missed his genitals. His eyes were starting to feel heavy.  

Then suddenly The Wolf bit him. He bolted upright in the bathtub at the sudden burst of pain in his head. Michael pressed his right hand to his forehead. His left arm was numb and seemingly immobile. The Wolf was talking to him now, it was showing him pictures of his family, not his biological one. The family that had created itself around him. It showed him their grief, their inability to understand his actions. It showed him the mind of the other wolf that it had killed in it's fleeting seconds before Michael had ripped it's throat out.  

It sickened him to think of Delilah's body sprawled out, bloody and violated, as the other wolf had intended. His Wolf, it appeared knew the meaning of family, only it called it Pack. It understood that Michael's humans were it's Pack and the meaning of Pack was to protect them no matter what the cost. There was a brief moment of understanding between them, before the franticness rushed in. The Wolf was lonely like he was, it was frightened, just like he was.  

Michael set his hands on either side of the bath tub attempting to pull himself out. His left arm wrenched in pain before he crashed back down into the water, the blood still leaving his body. He was getting tired, more tired than he thought was possible.  

The Wolf nudged him as he started to sink back into the bath water. It was asking for permission, something it had never done before, it was acknowledging the boundary. Black was twinging at the ends of his vision, he could feel the water rising over his chest as he sunk lower, his body losing all feeling. He was barely able to nod his agreement.

He felt The Wolf rush forward. It filled his body with a rush of agony and strength, he was surprised to find himself still in human form as he stumbled to his feet and managed to clamber out of the bathtub. The Wolf butted him towards the towel, making him grab it with his right hand. Michael struggled to wrap the towel tightly around his left arm, there wasn't a chance in hell he could tie the thing into a tourniquet.  

The Wolf was already urging him onto the next stage. The phone was clasped in his right hand, the receiver slipping between his fingers as he stood before the bed. He was shivering, the cold was plaguing his naked, wet body as he and the wolf tussled on who to call. The three nines were out of the question he was forced to remind it throwing up images of blood tests and cages. The Wolf shuddered, before plucking a number from his memory and dialling it whilst tucking the phone under his chin so he could use his right hand to dial.  

A sleep fogged female voice answered the phone, The Wolf had made a good choice in aid, it had remembered his family, their Pack. He could feel it's energy weakening now, leaving him unsteady and weak. Blood was already seeping through the towel and down his bare thigh as he clasped the arm to his body.  

"Delilah." he managed to mutter. "I need help."  

The line went dead, and both Michael and The Wolf took solace in the fact a member of their pack was on the way.


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