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Dec. 7th, 2009 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notIn honor of the new single that's going to be available at weareempires.com at midnight CST...
Title: Pack
Fandom/Characters: Bandom, EMPIRES (slight crossover with The Dresden Files, mentions of Billy & Georgia Borden)
Rating: Adult for language
Disclaimer: They totally belong to each other, not me. :)
Summary: part of the werewolf!Empires 'verse. what more do you need to know? (beta'd by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000, cheerled in various parts by various people.)
It’s 2:36 in the morning and Tom is wide awake, staring at the cracked ceiling in his darkened bedroom and listening to the rain tap against the window. It’s not the first night he’s lain here, worried and feeling something is just off in his world. At first, he thought it was something to do with Jon, who, while not an actual packmate, is still Tom’s and Tom is used to worrying about him. But he talked to Jon just hours ago and he knows Jon is in London with his band of puppies.
(And really, they are puppies, Tom’s seen pictures. He’ll never understand how this whole werewolf thing works. Or why one of the wolf pups from Jon’s band sports a sparkly purple leash.)
That leaves Tom’s pack. He really should take them up on their offer to move in to the place they share. Each time he stays up worrying about them, something is going on. The next day, they are worn out and at least one of them is wearing bruises or scratches Tom doesn’t like the looks of. Something’s going on there, but he’s not sure what it is.
Clearly, they need someone who understands how other packs or Hunters fight to explain a few things, just so they don’t get so banged up when they get up to shenanigans without him.
Or he could just get his head out of his ass and go with them like they all want.
Tom senses them before they get there, is already out of bed and across the apartment by the time Al bangs on the door. Al’s supporting Ryan, bloody and swaying on his feet, and Tom’s hit with a sudden, fierce desire to hunt down whoever is responsible for this. Whatever is responsible, his mind supplies helpfully, because these wounds are unlike any he’s ever seen inflicted by humans or other wolves.
Al shakes his head like he can sense Tom’s impending barrage of questions and says, “Help me get him inside.”
It takes Tom a minute to figure out where to put his hands – he can’t tell where Ryan is actually injured and where the blood has just spread – but they get Ryan to the couch. Tom freaks out about the blood because it’s easier than freaking out about Ryan, and really, how is he going to get that blood out of the cushions?
“Can you take care of him?” Al asks, already inching back toward the door.
Tom’s had to play nurse after turf skirmishes and bar fights and friendly fights that got out of hand, but never anything like this. Still, there’s nothing he wouldn’t at least try to do for his boys.
“I’ve got him,” he says, waving a hand in the direction of the door. “Go, help the others.”
Al’s gone before Tom even finishes speaking.
“What were you doing?” Tom asks, running his hands over Ryan, trying to figure out where the worst of the blood is coming from. “No, you know what, never mind. I don't even fucking wanna know. C'mon, this'll be easier in the bathroom.”
He helps Ryan to the bathroom and hands him a folded towel to hold against the cut on his side. That's the worst one – Tom actually thinks it might need stitches – and Tom's hoping that just staunching the flow of blood will help.
Everything else is superficial: scrapes on the palms of his hands, scratches on his upper arm, nothing that's a big deal after Tom wipes away the dirt and blood. Tom cleans him up and patches the smaller wounds as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists every time Ryan whimpers. He keeps up a constant stream of words, nonsense interspersed with Ryan's name, mostly to give himself something to focus on but he hopes it’s helping Ryan too.
The towel Ryan was holding is stained through with blood, and Tom has to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself when he eases it away. “Fuck, Ry,” he whispers, taking in the jagged edges of the wound. Tom can't tell how deep it is, but it's not something a bandaid is going to help. He only hopes there's no internal damage. He's a little afraid of messing with it any more than necessary, thoughts of infection and his own incompetence circling through his head.
“Need stitches?”
Tom glances up. Ryan's eyes are closed and he’s biting his lip, obviously in pain. Tom has to work to keep his voice steady when he answers, “Yeah, I'm pretty sure it might.”
“Sean can do it,” Ryan says. “When they get here.”
Tom doesn't want to think about where and why Sean learned how to stitch a wound, how many times he's had to put that skill to use. Instead, he replaces the blood-soaked towel with a fresh one and helps Ryan to the bedroom.
“Are you going to be okay for a minute?” Tom doesn’t want to leave Ryan’s side, but he thinks he should really get Ryan some painkillers.
Ryan gives him a faint smile as he settles against the pillows. “Tom, I’m okay. I’ve had worse.”
Tom really, really doesn’t want to think about Ryan being hurt worse. He practically runs to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of painkillers from atop the fridge and filling a glass with water from the tap. Ryan’s eyes are closed when he gets back.
“Ryan. Hey, Ryan, you have to stay awake, man.”
“M’awake,” Ryan mumbles. “Nice sheets, by the way.”
Tom would be embarrassed by the dinosaur sheets, but he has other things to worry about right now. Besides, they were a gift from Jon.
Tom’s distracted – understandably so – and he doesn’t even realize the others are coming until they burst through the front door, all three of them calling for Ryan. Tom backs away from the bed as Sean steps in.
“What the hell was that?” Ryan asks.
“I’m not sure,” Sean says. “Max, hand me the first aid kit out of the backpack.”
“Billy and Georgia showed up with their wizard friends,” Al puts in. “Apparently whatever that thing was, it wasn’t supposed to be in Chicago. And it’s dead now.”
“Call Billy,” Sean says, crawling on the bed beside Ryan. “Ryan’s gonna need antibiotics, just in case. Oh, and take Tom with you.”
Tom knows his anxious hovering wouldn’t help anyone, so he lets himself be pushed from the room. Besides, maybe this way he can find some answers.
[insert Al and Max explaining to Tom about meeting Billy and Georgia Borden, and how they’ve become part of this underground organization that protects the city from supernatural things. Tom wonders why William’s pack just caused mischief and partied a lot.]
Tom looks up when Sean comes out of the bedroom, covered in blood and looking ridiculously tired.
“How’s Ryan?”
“He’s had worse. He’ll be fine. I don’t think we should move him though. You mind if we crash here?”
Tom really couldn’t believe they were asking him, like he’d say no. Then again, he rarely stayed overnight at their house and had refused their repeated offers to move in. And they had kept this gigantic secret from him. Maybe they didn’t realize he believed he was part of them.
Tom goes to lay down with Ryan, lying close enough that he can feel the warmth of his body but stopping just shy of touching. He’s not sure where he could put his hands even if he felt like he had the right to touch. He tries not to fall asleep – he knows he’s a restless sleeper, and while waking up sprawled across Ryan would normally be an awesome thing, tonight it would be bad. He must at some point, though, because he wakes up to find Sean sitting on the end of the bed with Tom’s cell phone.
“Yeah, no, Tom’s fine. He’s just asleep.”
“M’not asleep,” Tom mumbles.
Sean looks at him and grins. “Tom says he’s not asleep.”
Whoever he’s talking to says something that makes Sean laugh. Tom thinks they’re probably laughing at him, and he would be upset about it if he was actually awake. He sits up and stretches, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping Ryan, and reaches for the phone.
“Nuh-uh,” Sean says, jumping up. “Your friend is gonna talk me through how to work that fancy coffee maker of yours.”
Tom glances at the clock and wonders why Jon is calling. Jon is the only one that ever calls this early. He thinks about going after Sean, because if Jon’s calling, there has to be a reason for it. Probably more tension with Jon’s band. Tom’s been tempted more than once to call one of them up – Smith, if he decided to do it – and settle some things, but he figures Jon’s a big boy and doesn’t want Tom’s interference. He can’t guarantee Jon has the same attitude, though, so he’s a little worried about what exactly Jon is telling Sean.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
Tom looks at Ryan, who’s peeking at him over the edge of his blanket. “Sorry.”
Ryan shakes his head a little and scoots closer to Tom. “Shut up and lay back down.”
The next time Tom wakes up, there’s coffee and breakfast, and just the sense of knowing he’s not alone in the apartment is enough to make him smile even before he opens his eyes. Then he remembers the blood and the fear, the too-crazy-to-be-untrue story Al told him, and Ryan lying beside him. He has a feeling he’s going to be asking a lot of questions today, and since Sean talked to Jon, he’s betting he’s going to be on the receiving end of a few himself.
He figures the best way to stall is a shower, but he doesn’t do his best thinking before coffee, which is why he finds himself sneaking back across the hall to his bedroom in nothing but a towel. Ryan is propped up against the pillows on Tom’s bed, a plate in his lap.
He smirks at Tom. “Nice view.”
“Fuck off,” Tom mumbles, rifling through his dresser for boxers and a pair of sweats.
Ryan just laughs, but it sounds a little off. Tom’s guessing the mysterious Billy found some good painkillers along with the antibiotics.
Tom knows he’s being unreasonably grumpy. It’s not like he was keeping secrets from Sean, so anything Jon told him, Sean would have found out or worked out for himself eventually. And he understood why they had kept their hunts a secret. It was amazing how skeptical he was about the supernatural world when he could change into a wolf, but Tom never claimed to be rational. Besides, the story was pretty farfetched. And Ryan had almost died. That alone was enough to make Tom want to ignore the existence of creatures that shouldn’t exist outside of fairy tales and Tim Burton movies.
There’s a blood stain on the couch that Tom is pretty sure will never come out. He’s had that couch for years; Jon’s parents had given it to them when they’d gotten their first apartment together after high school. The springs are worn out and most of the stuffing is gone from the cushions and the color is so faded that Tom can’t even remember what it originally was. But it’s his couch and now it’s stained with Ryan’s blood and Tom’s never going to be able to sit on is again without thinking of Ryan and the fear. The couch is going to have to go. Now.
He knows the others probably think he’s losing it when pulls the cushions off the couch and starts throwing them towards the door, but he doesn’t care. He’s allowed to have a major freak out about this.
When he starts to drag the couch itself over, Al grabs the other side and Max opens the door. After they drop the couch on the pavement beside the dumpster, Tom heads back upstairs to grab the cushions. He comes back down to find Al dousing the couch in lighter fluid.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Al looks at Tom like he’s crazy for asking. “Do you know how powerful blood is? You think I’m gonna make it easy for someone, or something, to get to Ryan?” He gestures for Tom to toss the cushions onto the couch and soaks them too. “I was going to wait until after dark to do this, but since you seemed so insistent…” He flicks a match at the pile and steps back as it goes up in flames.
Tom stares at the fire, thinking about the night before and the too-impossible-to-be-untrue story Al and Max had told him, about Ryan upstairs in his bed, about Sean hearing all his secrets from Jon. Really, he’s not sure the day could get much worse.
&******************************************************&
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tom asks, looking back in the direction of Nick's apartment.
"He's fine, Tom." Sean doesn't look at him as he says it, and Tom feels kinda bad for bringing up his own doubts again when he knows Sean is just as unsettled by the entire situation. None of them want to leave Ryan, but they don't have a choice. The mysterious Billy – Tom had met Georgia when she brought over some antibiotics for Ryan, and he can admit he liked her right off, so her husband can't be too bad – had called, asking for help with another skinwalker. Tom isn't exactly sure what a skinwalker is, but apparently it's the same type of creature that attacked Ryan, so even though he's scared shitless over meeting the damn thing, he has a pretty good motivation for wanting it dead.
Still, Ryan. He was already pissy about being left behind even though he's in no condition to be fighting kittens, much less something that's actually dangerous. But he hasn't said two words to Tom since Tom agreed to go with Sean, Max, and Al.
And Nick is awesome; he's always been a friend to Tom. He can probably handle Ryan and his attitude just fine until they get back. But he's also friends with William, and while Tom trusts William – to an extent, despite everything – he doesn't put it past Carden to try and get to Ryan in order to hurt Tom. He thinks maybe he has an overinflated opinion of himself, thinking that Carden still wants to do whatever he can to hurt him even though Carden already won the victory of Tom's leaving, but he can't get the thought out of his head.
And what if Ryan decides to leave anyway, decides he's not going to stay behind while his pack is out fighting? Nick has quite a few friends that are wolves, but would he be able to handle Ryan? Even an injured Ryan?
Tom walks a few steps behind the others, looking back one more time before they turn the corner and Nick's building is out of sight. He really should have given in to the urge to call Jon earlier and demand he get his ass back to Chicago right the fuck now.
Tom knows he's probably putting too much confidence in Jon, because Jon isn't as all-powerful as Tom generally thinks he is and because Jon is having his own pack-related issues right now. Still, Jon is honorary pack and Tom would really feel better if Ryan was with one of his own.
"Tom!"
Tom looks up at where Max is standing at the next corner, waiting on him. Sean and Al are nowhere to be seen.
"If you're going to leave your mind back with Ryan, you may as well just go on back. If you're not paying attention, you're gonna get hurt, or get one of us hurt. We can't look out for you and fight this thing at the same time."
He doesn't sound mad, just matter-of-fact. Tom's pretty sure if their roles were reversed, he would be pretty pissed, but Max has always presented a much calmer demeanor than Tom has. And what he's saying is the truth. Tom doesn't want to get anyone hurt (Ryan is enough) but he really doesn't want them to think he can't do this. That he doesn't want to do this.
"Sorry," he says, hurrying to catch up with Max. "I'm here, I'll be okay."
"No more daydreaming!" It's more of a demand than a request, and Max is already walking off.
Tom shakes his head and follows. No more daydreaming, got it.
Tom doesn't really have to worry about his attention wandering, though, because he and Max have barely caught up with Sean and Al when two large wolves run past them, heading for an abandoned warehouse in the distance.
Sean had said Billy was good at what he does. Tom had been a little jealous of the hero-worship in Sean's attitude when he was talking about Billy's plan to lure the shapeshifter to a lesser-populated area of town, but thinking about it, he's glad they're not in a position where innocents could get hurt.
He doesn't hesitate to change into his wolf form and take off after his packmates in the same direction. Before they get to the doors of the warehouse, a god-awful scream breaks the heavy silence of the darkened street, and Tom's heart speeds up when something come out of the dark and slams into Al. Tom throws himself at the unknown creature with a growl.
The fight is a blur of teeth and fur, growls and snarls. Blood. Tom’s not thinking about anything other than protecting his pack and avenging Ryan. It’s over pretty quick, and Tom’s got the creature on the ground, bloody and motionless, when he realizes Sean – back in human form – is calling his name. He lets go of the creature, panting heavily, and lets Sean pull him away as Billy and Georgia’s wizard friend comes over to make sure the thing is really dead.
Max nuzzles up against Tom’s side and Tom returns the affection gratefully.
“Come on, you two,” Sean says, ruffling the fur between Tom’s ears. “Let’s get Ryan and go home.”
And really, Tom can’t think of anything he’d rather do.
Title: Pack
Fandom/Characters: Bandom, EMPIRES (slight crossover with The Dresden Files, mentions of Billy & Georgia Borden)
Rating: Adult for language
Disclaimer: They totally belong to each other, not me. :)
Summary: part of the werewolf!Empires 'verse. what more do you need to know? (beta'd by
irisgirl12000, cheerled in various parts by various people.)It’s 2:36 in the morning and Tom is wide awake, staring at the cracked ceiling in his darkened bedroom and listening to the rain tap against the window. It’s not the first night he’s lain here, worried and feeling something is just off in his world. At first, he thought it was something to do with Jon, who, while not an actual packmate, is still Tom’s and Tom is used to worrying about him. But he talked to Jon just hours ago and he knows Jon is in London with his band of puppies.
(And really, they are puppies, Tom’s seen pictures. He’ll never understand how this whole werewolf thing works. Or why one of the wolf pups from Jon’s band sports a sparkly purple leash.)
That leaves Tom’s pack. He really should take them up on their offer to move in to the place they share. Each time he stays up worrying about them, something is going on. The next day, they are worn out and at least one of them is wearing bruises or scratches Tom doesn’t like the looks of. Something’s going on there, but he’s not sure what it is.
Clearly, they need someone who understands how other packs or Hunters fight to explain a few things, just so they don’t get so banged up when they get up to shenanigans without him.
Or he could just get his head out of his ass and go with them like they all want.
Tom senses them before they get there, is already out of bed and across the apartment by the time Al bangs on the door. Al’s supporting Ryan, bloody and swaying on his feet, and Tom’s hit with a sudden, fierce desire to hunt down whoever is responsible for this. Whatever is responsible, his mind supplies helpfully, because these wounds are unlike any he’s ever seen inflicted by humans or other wolves.
Al shakes his head like he can sense Tom’s impending barrage of questions and says, “Help me get him inside.”
It takes Tom a minute to figure out where to put his hands – he can’t tell where Ryan is actually injured and where the blood has just spread – but they get Ryan to the couch. Tom freaks out about the blood because it’s easier than freaking out about Ryan, and really, how is he going to get that blood out of the cushions?
“Can you take care of him?” Al asks, already inching back toward the door.
Tom’s had to play nurse after turf skirmishes and bar fights and friendly fights that got out of hand, but never anything like this. Still, there’s nothing he wouldn’t at least try to do for his boys.
“I’ve got him,” he says, waving a hand in the direction of the door. “Go, help the others.”
Al’s gone before Tom even finishes speaking.
“What were you doing?” Tom asks, running his hands over Ryan, trying to figure out where the worst of the blood is coming from. “No, you know what, never mind. I don't even fucking wanna know. C'mon, this'll be easier in the bathroom.”
He helps Ryan to the bathroom and hands him a folded towel to hold against the cut on his side. That's the worst one – Tom actually thinks it might need stitches – and Tom's hoping that just staunching the flow of blood will help.
Everything else is superficial: scrapes on the palms of his hands, scratches on his upper arm, nothing that's a big deal after Tom wipes away the dirt and blood. Tom cleans him up and patches the smaller wounds as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists every time Ryan whimpers. He keeps up a constant stream of words, nonsense interspersed with Ryan's name, mostly to give himself something to focus on but he hopes it’s helping Ryan too.
The towel Ryan was holding is stained through with blood, and Tom has to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself when he eases it away. “Fuck, Ry,” he whispers, taking in the jagged edges of the wound. Tom can't tell how deep it is, but it's not something a bandaid is going to help. He only hopes there's no internal damage. He's a little afraid of messing with it any more than necessary, thoughts of infection and his own incompetence circling through his head.
“Need stitches?”
Tom glances up. Ryan's eyes are closed and he’s biting his lip, obviously in pain. Tom has to work to keep his voice steady when he answers, “Yeah, I'm pretty sure it might.”
“Sean can do it,” Ryan says. “When they get here.”
Tom doesn't want to think about where and why Sean learned how to stitch a wound, how many times he's had to put that skill to use. Instead, he replaces the blood-soaked towel with a fresh one and helps Ryan to the bedroom.
“Are you going to be okay for a minute?” Tom doesn’t want to leave Ryan’s side, but he thinks he should really get Ryan some painkillers.
Ryan gives him a faint smile as he settles against the pillows. “Tom, I’m okay. I’ve had worse.”
Tom really, really doesn’t want to think about Ryan being hurt worse. He practically runs to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of painkillers from atop the fridge and filling a glass with water from the tap. Ryan’s eyes are closed when he gets back.
“Ryan. Hey, Ryan, you have to stay awake, man.”
“M’awake,” Ryan mumbles. “Nice sheets, by the way.”
Tom would be embarrassed by the dinosaur sheets, but he has other things to worry about right now. Besides, they were a gift from Jon.
Tom’s distracted – understandably so – and he doesn’t even realize the others are coming until they burst through the front door, all three of them calling for Ryan. Tom backs away from the bed as Sean steps in.
“What the hell was that?” Ryan asks.
“I’m not sure,” Sean says. “Max, hand me the first aid kit out of the backpack.”
“Billy and Georgia showed up with their wizard friends,” Al puts in. “Apparently whatever that thing was, it wasn’t supposed to be in Chicago. And it’s dead now.”
“Call Billy,” Sean says, crawling on the bed beside Ryan. “Ryan’s gonna need antibiotics, just in case. Oh, and take Tom with you.”
Tom knows his anxious hovering wouldn’t help anyone, so he lets himself be pushed from the room. Besides, maybe this way he can find some answers.
[insert Al and Max explaining to Tom about meeting Billy and Georgia Borden, and how they’ve become part of this underground organization that protects the city from supernatural things. Tom wonders why William’s pack just caused mischief and partied a lot.]
Tom looks up when Sean comes out of the bedroom, covered in blood and looking ridiculously tired.
“How’s Ryan?”
“He’s had worse. He’ll be fine. I don’t think we should move him though. You mind if we crash here?”
Tom really couldn’t believe they were asking him, like he’d say no. Then again, he rarely stayed overnight at their house and had refused their repeated offers to move in. And they had kept this gigantic secret from him. Maybe they didn’t realize he believed he was part of them.
Tom goes to lay down with Ryan, lying close enough that he can feel the warmth of his body but stopping just shy of touching. He’s not sure where he could put his hands even if he felt like he had the right to touch. He tries not to fall asleep – he knows he’s a restless sleeper, and while waking up sprawled across Ryan would normally be an awesome thing, tonight it would be bad. He must at some point, though, because he wakes up to find Sean sitting on the end of the bed with Tom’s cell phone.
“Yeah, no, Tom’s fine. He’s just asleep.”
“M’not asleep,” Tom mumbles.
Sean looks at him and grins. “Tom says he’s not asleep.”
Whoever he’s talking to says something that makes Sean laugh. Tom thinks they’re probably laughing at him, and he would be upset about it if he was actually awake. He sits up and stretches, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping Ryan, and reaches for the phone.
“Nuh-uh,” Sean says, jumping up. “Your friend is gonna talk me through how to work that fancy coffee maker of yours.”
Tom glances at the clock and wonders why Jon is calling. Jon is the only one that ever calls this early. He thinks about going after Sean, because if Jon’s calling, there has to be a reason for it. Probably more tension with Jon’s band. Tom’s been tempted more than once to call one of them up – Smith, if he decided to do it – and settle some things, but he figures Jon’s a big boy and doesn’t want Tom’s interference. He can’t guarantee Jon has the same attitude, though, so he’s a little worried about what exactly Jon is telling Sean.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
Tom looks at Ryan, who’s peeking at him over the edge of his blanket. “Sorry.”
Ryan shakes his head a little and scoots closer to Tom. “Shut up and lay back down.”
The next time Tom wakes up, there’s coffee and breakfast, and just the sense of knowing he’s not alone in the apartment is enough to make him smile even before he opens his eyes. Then he remembers the blood and the fear, the too-crazy-to-be-untrue story Al told him, and Ryan lying beside him. He has a feeling he’s going to be asking a lot of questions today, and since Sean talked to Jon, he’s betting he’s going to be on the receiving end of a few himself.
He figures the best way to stall is a shower, but he doesn’t do his best thinking before coffee, which is why he finds himself sneaking back across the hall to his bedroom in nothing but a towel. Ryan is propped up against the pillows on Tom’s bed, a plate in his lap.
He smirks at Tom. “Nice view.”
“Fuck off,” Tom mumbles, rifling through his dresser for boxers and a pair of sweats.
Ryan just laughs, but it sounds a little off. Tom’s guessing the mysterious Billy found some good painkillers along with the antibiotics.
Tom knows he’s being unreasonably grumpy. It’s not like he was keeping secrets from Sean, so anything Jon told him, Sean would have found out or worked out for himself eventually. And he understood why they had kept their hunts a secret. It was amazing how skeptical he was about the supernatural world when he could change into a wolf, but Tom never claimed to be rational. Besides, the story was pretty farfetched. And Ryan had almost died. That alone was enough to make Tom want to ignore the existence of creatures that shouldn’t exist outside of fairy tales and Tim Burton movies.
There’s a blood stain on the couch that Tom is pretty sure will never come out. He’s had that couch for years; Jon’s parents had given it to them when they’d gotten their first apartment together after high school. The springs are worn out and most of the stuffing is gone from the cushions and the color is so faded that Tom can’t even remember what it originally was. But it’s his couch and now it’s stained with Ryan’s blood and Tom’s never going to be able to sit on is again without thinking of Ryan and the fear. The couch is going to have to go. Now.
He knows the others probably think he’s losing it when pulls the cushions off the couch and starts throwing them towards the door, but he doesn’t care. He’s allowed to have a major freak out about this.
When he starts to drag the couch itself over, Al grabs the other side and Max opens the door. After they drop the couch on the pavement beside the dumpster, Tom heads back upstairs to grab the cushions. He comes back down to find Al dousing the couch in lighter fluid.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Al looks at Tom like he’s crazy for asking. “Do you know how powerful blood is? You think I’m gonna make it easy for someone, or something, to get to Ryan?” He gestures for Tom to toss the cushions onto the couch and soaks them too. “I was going to wait until after dark to do this, but since you seemed so insistent…” He flicks a match at the pile and steps back as it goes up in flames.
Tom stares at the fire, thinking about the night before and the too-impossible-to-be-untrue story Al and Max had told him, about Ryan upstairs in his bed, about Sean hearing all his secrets from Jon. Really, he’s not sure the day could get much worse.
&******************************************************&
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tom asks, looking back in the direction of Nick's apartment.
"He's fine, Tom." Sean doesn't look at him as he says it, and Tom feels kinda bad for bringing up his own doubts again when he knows Sean is just as unsettled by the entire situation. None of them want to leave Ryan, but they don't have a choice. The mysterious Billy – Tom had met Georgia when she brought over some antibiotics for Ryan, and he can admit he liked her right off, so her husband can't be too bad – had called, asking for help with another skinwalker. Tom isn't exactly sure what a skinwalker is, but apparently it's the same type of creature that attacked Ryan, so even though he's scared shitless over meeting the damn thing, he has a pretty good motivation for wanting it dead.
Still, Ryan. He was already pissy about being left behind even though he's in no condition to be fighting kittens, much less something that's actually dangerous. But he hasn't said two words to Tom since Tom agreed to go with Sean, Max, and Al.
And Nick is awesome; he's always been a friend to Tom. He can probably handle Ryan and his attitude just fine until they get back. But he's also friends with William, and while Tom trusts William – to an extent, despite everything – he doesn't put it past Carden to try and get to Ryan in order to hurt Tom. He thinks maybe he has an overinflated opinion of himself, thinking that Carden still wants to do whatever he can to hurt him even though Carden already won the victory of Tom's leaving, but he can't get the thought out of his head.
And what if Ryan decides to leave anyway, decides he's not going to stay behind while his pack is out fighting? Nick has quite a few friends that are wolves, but would he be able to handle Ryan? Even an injured Ryan?
Tom walks a few steps behind the others, looking back one more time before they turn the corner and Nick's building is out of sight. He really should have given in to the urge to call Jon earlier and demand he get his ass back to Chicago right the fuck now.
Tom knows he's probably putting too much confidence in Jon, because Jon isn't as all-powerful as Tom generally thinks he is and because Jon is having his own pack-related issues right now. Still, Jon is honorary pack and Tom would really feel better if Ryan was with one of his own.
"Tom!"
Tom looks up at where Max is standing at the next corner, waiting on him. Sean and Al are nowhere to be seen.
"If you're going to leave your mind back with Ryan, you may as well just go on back. If you're not paying attention, you're gonna get hurt, or get one of us hurt. We can't look out for you and fight this thing at the same time."
He doesn't sound mad, just matter-of-fact. Tom's pretty sure if their roles were reversed, he would be pretty pissed, but Max has always presented a much calmer demeanor than Tom has. And what he's saying is the truth. Tom doesn't want to get anyone hurt (Ryan is enough) but he really doesn't want them to think he can't do this. That he doesn't want to do this.
"Sorry," he says, hurrying to catch up with Max. "I'm here, I'll be okay."
"No more daydreaming!" It's more of a demand than a request, and Max is already walking off.
Tom shakes his head and follows. No more daydreaming, got it.
Tom doesn't really have to worry about his attention wandering, though, because he and Max have barely caught up with Sean and Al when two large wolves run past them, heading for an abandoned warehouse in the distance.
Sean had said Billy was good at what he does. Tom had been a little jealous of the hero-worship in Sean's attitude when he was talking about Billy's plan to lure the shapeshifter to a lesser-populated area of town, but thinking about it, he's glad they're not in a position where innocents could get hurt.
He doesn't hesitate to change into his wolf form and take off after his packmates in the same direction. Before they get to the doors of the warehouse, a god-awful scream breaks the heavy silence of the darkened street, and Tom's heart speeds up when something come out of the dark and slams into Al. Tom throws himself at the unknown creature with a growl.
The fight is a blur of teeth and fur, growls and snarls. Blood. Tom’s not thinking about anything other than protecting his pack and avenging Ryan. It’s over pretty quick, and Tom’s got the creature on the ground, bloody and motionless, when he realizes Sean – back in human form – is calling his name. He lets go of the creature, panting heavily, and lets Sean pull him away as Billy and Georgia’s wizard friend comes over to make sure the thing is really dead.
Max nuzzles up against Tom’s side and Tom returns the affection gratefully.
“Come on, you two,” Sean says, ruffling the fur between Tom’s ears. “Let’s get Ryan and go home.”
And really, Tom can’t think of anything he’d rather do.
