Dark Side of the Moon (closed)

Tyler wandered out in the streets, a bandaged wrapped loosely around the middle of his hand, the job being done half hazardly, with barely any care - honestly it was a miricle he had even bothered covering the wound at all.

It was a miricle he was sober enough to care - for, for the first time in a long time the young man could remember he was one hundred precent sober. It had to have been at least a week since he had booze - since he smashed his last bottle on the floor, and incured his wound attempting to pick it up.

And it had been even longer since he'd seen Karma.

His hands visibly shook at his side as his body continued to withdrawl from not one, but two substances, but Ty didn't care.

He turned his head, and looked at the last of the dying light from the sun - a late summer evening, the warm breeze still swinging through the leaves. This would be the time of day back home when people would just start to crawl out of their air conditioned home, when the hot sticky Lousiana air was finally cooled to a slightly breathable level. If he closed his eyes he could pretend that maybe, just maybe that was where he still was.

But of course he wasn't.

He was in England, like always, and now like always he truely was alone. Everyone was gone... so why wasn't he?

Why was Tyler Marks always the last one standing? He supposed he still had his aunt and uncle somewhere but... he was sure he burned that bridge long ago with childish behaviour.

Lost in thought as he was, stuck between pretending and his actual reality, Tyler did not notice the sounds of someone near by ... or perhaps it was something?

Ondrea moved along at a rapid pace. She was cutting it close. Too close. The sun was setting and it wouldn't be long until the moon was risen. Already, the girl could feel the transformation coming upon.

Naturally, she had stupidly neglected to take her Wolfsbane Potion before she left home.

Part of her - the part she subconsciously thought of as her 'werewolf side' - didn't care. The other part was terrified. At least most people in the area weren't prone to wander. They went elsewhere. Maybe, she would be lucky; maybe she wouldn't encounter anyone that night. One thing was certain: Ondrea wasn't making it to the safe room in the basement of Montgomery House.

She let out a cry as a pain rippled up her body. Doubly over for a moment, arm wrapped about her middle, Ondrea took several slow, deep breaths... and caught scent of something. Human; vampire-marked. The girl looked up, luminous amber eyes widening in shock and the faintest trace of glee.

"Ty?"

Tyler looked up at the sound; it sounded like...

He tilted his head as he made out a figure in the semi-dark. He took one step forward, and then another.

"Excuse me?" he called out hedging forward, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Maybe there was something he was forgetting. "Are yeah alright there? Do I..."

He squinted and felt an odd little lurch in his stomach, "Ondrea?"

And suddenly, Ondrea (her sensible side, let's say) was inexplicably furious.

"I told you to stay in this time of month!" she growled at the man. "What are you doing out here?"

The sun had gone; the moon already making its presence known. Ondrea let out another pain sound.

Tyler blinked at the young woman's anger. He was confused for a moment before...

"I wouldn't go camping in the woods three nights from now, or take a midnight walk. You should stay in."

That was what the girl had said, last time they had spoken. He had forgotten completely.

"I-I- I'm-" Walking was what he was going to say but... he lurched forward again as she was obviously in pain. "What are yeah doin'? Are yeah alright... Stupid question; course yeah ain't..."

"Stay away!" the girl snarled at him, baring her teeth.

"What kind of idiot are you?" Ondrea ranted, glaring up at him. "Everyone knows about wizards, and you, at least, know about vampires - I can smell it on you!

"Haven't you ever heard of werewolves?"

She straightened abruptly, stepping closer to him, a smirk slowly spreading across her face. It was anything but benevolent.

"I have a thing for blonds, you know," she stated conversationally, grin widening maliciously. "I would run, if I were you."

A choked sound escaped her throat as she fell to her hands and knees, claws protruding from her fingers as the moon took its place as queen of the night sky. "RUN!"

Ty bared back on instinct, holding up his hands as she snarled and more or less insulted him

But considering her next words, she quiet possibly had ever right to. He was an idoit, but then again, he had been starting to think that for quite a few months now.

He unconsiously rubbed a hand over the tattoo on his neck as she mentioned Vampires - and werewolfs.

Why couldn't the magical world just leave him alone?

Tyler may have been an idiot, but he did not need to be told that twice. The young man barely wasted a panicked glance on the transforming girl - and a breathed "Lord almighty' - before spining on his legs and attempting to get away.

But months of drinking, and weeks of withdrawl symptoms hadn't been doing him any favours.

He sent up a prayer to God that this would turn out alright, but he had a feeling he'd blown all his chances with that man - no one was listening.

Ty received a rather significant head start, really. Had he been running from another human. A werewolf, of course, ran a lot faster than a person could.

And there was nowhere to hide.

Transformation complete, the wolf-creature sniffed the air, then bounded after its quarry with a chilling howl. It wasn't long before it came upon the man. The wolf was in a playful mood. It hadn't been let out properly for months.

It had nothing against playing with its prey.

A lunge and a snap to the man's left ankle ensured he wouldn't be running much farther. Not with much success, in any case. Leaping back, the creature circled him, amber eyes glittering with gleeful malice.

Striking again, it bit into his shoulder and gave a violent shake of its head before releasing him and jumping back, once more. It was tensing to pounce again, actions almost playful, when something caught its attention. Head snapping up, it peered off into the distance, drawing in a questing breath.

Something approached. A car.

It growled. Then, sinking its teeth into the man's arm, it dragged him away from the road...

Ty's breathing became laboured as he pushed himself further than he had ever before - he was really starting to get out of shape. He use to be able to go so far, but now... even with the adreneline he could feel his legs begin to protest.

There was a brief moment - a brief glorious moment - were he thought maybe he just had a chance of getting away.

Then he felt the sharp pain of teeth digging into his ankle, letting out a cry of pain as he stumbled.

From that point on his brain went into to a haze of pain, expereincing the next moments as if he were somewhere else - feeling it but not.

He let out a moan, and a wimper as the teeth entered him again, and dragged him off.

His scattered brain let out one more thought - one more good bye to the world (he was sure he wasn't surviving this one) before his brain took its last defense from the pain and the man passed out.

Tyler Marks it seemed, had run out of luck.

The following morning
Montgomery House
Guest Room

"For Merlin's sake, Ondrea!" Raised voices came from without the room, the first belonging to a woman. "Twenty years ago, they didn't have Wolfsbane potion you could take with you! For months, you have been working on managing your condition - how could you just forget your potion?" The voice became a bit shrill towards the end.

"Don't you think I know that, mum?" Ondrea's voice, shouting back, though clearly distraught and tearful. "Don't you think I realize how badly I've screwed up? I'm not completely brainless, you know!"

"Oh, don't you take that tone with me, Ondrea Faye Montgomery!"

"You know it's bad when Mum's yelling," quietly remarked a voice within the room. It was coming from a painting on the wall across from the bed. Two figures were within the frame. One, a young man in black robes (Hogwarts robes, Ravenclaw, to be precise), stood at the edge of the painting, stretching up and craning his neck, as though it could help him peek through the crack of the slightly open door.

The other was a rather serious looking young woman with pale brown hair and eyes. She was attired in a knee-length blue dress with a tan-colored half-cloak. Rather than paying any attention to those shouting in the hall, she peered down at the figure laying in the bed.

"Your sister seems to have a thing for blonds," she stated clinically. "At least she didn't maul the others..."

"That one girl she snogged in the library was ginger. And you just think she didn't 'maul' them," the young man said naughtily, then sputtered at the the idea, stepping away from the frame. "I will never get that image out of my head..." He looked slightly ill. "Ouch, Jocy!" He rubbed his arm as the woman slapped him.

"You're lucky!" The woman outside the room, ostensibly 'Mum', continued to rant. "You're lucky I'm a healer at St. Mungo's and that I was able to help that poor man and get things sorted for him without this going on your public record -"

"Mum," Ondrea protested, "I-"

"Your public record, Ondrea! You would have been marked as a danger to yourself and to others for this! Werewolves are already looked at with suspicion and uncertainty - but a werewolf that goes around mauling people? You take a potion every month so this won't happen!"

The young man in the painting gave a low whistle. "I don't think I've ever heard that woman so upset... poor Faye."

"Is he stirring?" the woman asked in mild interest, appearing to lean towards the bed for a closer look.

Tyler fidgeted and groaned. He ached, that was definitely undeniable. Does that mean he was alive and not dead?

Or did he just bypast heaven and this was what Hell was like. That was always a possiblity - he had told Tre that before, he was pretty sure he'd used up all his luck with the big man.

He winced as he began to hear voices, far off voices... they were arguing, but.. he knew those tones... family - he hadn't heard arguing like that in the distance since he had family.

He sat up with a jolt as he heard voices even closer to him.

"Who's there?" he looked around trying to find the owner of the voice, but he appeared to be alone. Maybe he was just going crazy... or maybe, "I know yer there; I can hear yeah."

"He's American. Muggle, were you?" the woman queried rather condescendingly. "Well, you aren't anymore, then."

"Jocelyn, be nice," admonished the man. He then addressed Tyler. "Look up, then, mate. Straight ahead, up at the wall. That's it... no, no, no, no - at the wall, specifically, the painting on the wall. There you are. Hullo!" The blond-haired man in the painting waved with a cheerful smile.

"You are an idiot," opined Jocelyn. "You, there. Reckon your shoulder is killing you, isn't it? That's a werewolf bite, for you. Magic and potions won't heal it up as quick as other injuries, though, it'll heal faster than before you were bitten. One advantage of being turned, then."

The man gaze incredulously at her. "Merlin's shorts, you've been a painting for too long, haven't you? Ignore her. She's rude, better known as Jocelyn. She's..." He thought for a moment. "Some relationship of ours on our mother's side. Too complicated to work out, just now. Jocy, here, has been a portrait for more than fifty years, now, so she's lost all sense of manners.

"I'm Owen. Owen Montgomery. I'm afraid that was my baby sister you had a run in with last night. Try not to be too hard on her, will ya? She'll never forgive herself, I don't think. Especially after what happened with us. I'm dead, y'see, and she's still... well, trying to get a handle on it."

Jocelyn hit Owen, again, nodding towards the door. "They've stopped shouting."

"I've noticed," Owen replied, also gazing at the entryway with interest. "Reckon Faye's gone to get more supplies and whatnot. Mum'll probably make her help take care of you until you're up and kicking again."

"And shedding and howling," mumbled Jocelyn.

"Jocy!"

"Well, it's true!"

Tyler blinked at the voice... muggle... wall..... Straightening up, wincing and biting his lip to keep back the groan, he followed the instructions, and looked his eyes on the voice.

The painting. It was one of those damn talking paintings. He blinked at it for a long moment, too tired to bring about his usual discomfort at magic - at the paintings.

"Uh," he grunted rather intellently, and began to run a hand through his hiar before groaning at the pain that shot through his arm. "Hey there."

Baby sister... Montgomery... last night... he closed his eyes as the man's words sunk into his brain and brought back his last memories. It was late... the moon... Wolf... wolf... "Haven't you ever heard of werewolves?"

"Lord Almighty," he breathed to himself. "What did I do?"

"Ran too slowly," Jocelyn suggested dryly.

"Jocelyn, for the love of -" Owen began.

"Would you both behave yourselves, for once?" Ondrea had entered the room, a tray with supplies in her hands. "We have a guest! I could hear you all the way down the stairs." The girl set the tray on the bedside table next to the assortment of medicinal items already there.

"Now, Faye, it isn't fair for you bring that up when you've got werewolf super-hearing," Owen spoke, mock-serious. Ondrea shot him a glare over her shoulder, only to receive an unrepentant grin. She turned away from the painting, though a fond smile tugged at her lips.

Her gaze, still amber, moved tentatively over to Ty. He was a stranger, really. Someone she had encountered only by chance. But now...

"I'm sorry," Ondrea choked out, eyes turning bright with tears. "I'm so, so sorry..."

Ty snorted at the girls comment, and shook his head. It was a bitter sort of sound.

"Nah, its 'alright," he mummbled up at the painting, not looking at them. Of all the things going on was now really the time to focus on his distaste for things magical? "True now ain't it?"

He looked up as the door openned again, and Ondrea walked in. He rather irrationally felt like hiding for the moment, but his brain eventually over came the last moment he had saw the girl.

For she was just a girl at the moment.

Besides, most of the damage was done already now wasn't it?

"Hey now," he whispered softly, "Ain't nuttin' to apologize for really - yeah told me not to go out now didn't yeah? And yeah told me to run......"

Lord almighty - he was an idiot. The worlds most unkillable, idiot. How the hell was it that no matter what it always seemed to be him who lived.

The idiot.

Ondrea hadn't missed his flash of fear - she was able to smell it, even if she hadn't see it flash across his face.

"But there is!" she exclaimed. "I-I was r-reckless an' ir-irresponsible! The war-ning wasn't even supposed to b-b-be about me. A hu-man can't outrun a w-werewolf!"

A sob escaped her lips. "I promised m-myself I wou-wouldn't do this anyone!" She scrubbed the tears from her eyes, angry at herself for them being there, and for her own recklessness.

"I n-need to che-eck your shoulder," Ondrea said, indicating the shirt he was clad in needed removal. "An-and your arm and leg. And... and an-anywhere else you're h-hurt." She drew in a shaky breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up a bowl of warm clean water and a cloth.

On the wall, Jocelyn had left the painting, ostensibly to return to her own. Owen still remained, however, sitting on the ground and leaning against the frame. He was very still, for once looking like the painting that he was.

Ty looked at her for a moment before looking down his shirt. He blinked a couple of times before, slowly removing it. Wincing as he jostled his shoulder, and then his arm.

"I think that that's all of 'em - the arm, shoulder leg. Could be worse couldn't it?"

He gave a little laugh that had no amusement in it as he slowly threw the shirt side for the moment.

"Don't eat yerself up about it," he said softly. "Whats done is done now ain't it- if yer sorry, that gotta be all we can do right now."

He focused at the picture frame now, staring blankly at it as the girl left and the boy appeared to stay as still as an actual painitng.

Whats done was done.... wasn't that just the damn story of his life.

"It was worse," Ondrea murmured quietly. "Y-you just weren't co-conscious to re-member." She kept her eyes on her task, removing the bandage from his shoulder, first. The wound was still raw and deep. Ondrea shuddered slightly. Using the cloth and water, she cleaned it, again, then applied some of the antiseptic that had been sitting on the bedside stand.

"Sorry. I kn-know it stings," the girl grimaced in empathy. She tilted her head a bit, eyes tracing the gashes. "They'll scar, you know. Other injuries you get from now on will rarely leave a mark, but these... the ones I gave to you... you'll have those scars forever." Her voice was hushed, amber gaze intently fixed on the damage.

Tone growing even softer, nearly a whisper, she continued, "You tell me not to eat myself up over it, but do you know what the worst part is?" Her gaze abruptly snapped to his. "Part of me isn't sorry at all. That part doesn't think I've given you a curse. The fact that you survived isn't incredible fortune, but proof that you deserve this," she gestured vaguely between them, eyes never leaving his, "that it is a gift. And you have earned it."

Ondrea finally looked away, reaching for fresh gauze to re-bandage his shoulder before moving on to his arm.

"Still think I shouldn't be h-hard on myself?"

Ty bit his lip as she began going about the wound. He managed to keep the hiss of pain inside, but there was nothing he could do about the flinch upon the intial placement of the anticeptic.

"Well know I'll have sumptin' to impress the ladies with, yeah?" he attempted to laugh at his own joke, but the sound was strained. It wasn't like he could tell any of the the truth of where the scars came from. He would be a danger now to anyone.

He listened to her explain silently, just letting the words wash over him. The majority of his mind was rather disgusted by the thought - to think that this, this was a gift. He didn't fully understand what had happened to him, but he knew that he would never look at it as a gift.

But there was a tiny, tiny part - a part that was growing, that saw a glimmer of... truth ... to the words. A small part of him that jumped and danced with agreement.

"In all honesty, I ain't too sure what to think about anythang at the moment," he finally said with a sigh.

Ondrea shrugged, gently tending the man's arms. The wounds were deeper there, probably because it was where she had bitten him to drag him. "You'll feel that way for a while," she said. "I still feel that way, sometimes, and it's been almost a year."

In the frame, Owen looked up with a wince, knowing where his sister's mind was going: a year since she had been changed... and a year since he had died. Ondrea hadn't just lost her brother at that time; she'd lost her best friend, as well.

"In a few days, you'll start to notice changes. Your sense of smell will start to get better - a lot better - as will your night vision and hearing. You'll be a bit stronger, a bit faster. Oh, and you'll eat more than you ever did before. We have a higher metabolism.

"A month from now..." Ondrea looked up to meet his gaze. "I'll be at school, but my parents would let you change here. There's a room... just a precaution. The Wolfsbane potion works pretty well at keeping you from losing yourself. I... I forgot to take mine, yesterday. It's why... I ended up attacking you." She had looked away, again, securing the new bandage around his arm.

Ty watched her work on the wounds on his arm - he stared for a long moment at the deep gashes made by ... her teeth. He had to resist the urge to shiver. He'd be like that now too, wouldn't he?

Unnatural.

"Well - I ain't too sure I knew anythang before this, so it ain't gunna be much of a change really," he attempted to laugh but the sound didn't come out very humorful.

He nodded again at the information - attempting to digets it but it was a lot to take in. Tyler swallowed as she got to the part he hadn't wanted to think about. The part that would...

"So... if I get this... potion..." he trailed off.

His leg didn't appear as bad as his arm or shoulder, at least, not that he'd be doing much running soon. Ondrea gently cleaned the wounds there as well.

"If you get the Wolfsbane, you don't lose yourself in the change," she explained. "You stay in control. Otherwise... your wolf, if you will, takes over. Then, you can't really control what you do. You become all instinct - violent instinct.

"And then people get hurt, because a werewolf is no friend to anyone else."

She tied the new bandage in place, then picked up a vial from the side table. "I should have given you this, first. It's a pain reliever."

Ty nodded his head slowly. Well... that was something at least. Though ... as a Muggle he had no idea how he'd get ahold of such thing. His life had always - it seemed - been filled with magic he was ill-equipped to handle.

"Well then, I guess I'll be wantin' to get some of that potion."

He was staring at the bandage, when she held up the vail. He took it hesitantly. More magic he ain't gunna ever understand.

"Nah, I've survived now ain't I?" He still healed the thing in his hand, willing himself to take it.

Ondrea smiled, guessing what was on his mind. "My mum makes it," she told him. "She'll make some for you, as well. It has to be made every month - it doesn't last very long - but it doesn't have to be brewed the same day like it did a couple decades ago. It's good for up to a week."

Her eyes rose to study him a long moment, noting his hesitation, smelling his uncertainty.

"You don't trust magic." It wasn't a question. The girl inclined her head. "Given the current circumstances, I don't blame you."

Ondrea turned towards the painting on the wall. Owen turned to gaze calmly back at her, attuned to his sister even though he was no longer truly alive.

"That's my brother," she said, the statement probably seeming quite random. "He looks mostly like our father. My mother is blonde, too. All the Montgomerys are, except for me. Mostly blond or light brown hair for... five or six generations."

She looked back to look at Ty, gaze intent. "Would you like to know why I don't look like my family?"

"Faye..." Owen protested lightly from the frame. The girl ignored him.

"I was adopted when I was four," Ondrea continued. "Actually, I was born in Scotland. And my biological parents were... religious. They were also muggles. When I four, I had my first bout of accidental magic. So, my parents were going to kill me... because I had magic, and they thought that made me evil, cursed... something. If a squib neighbor hadn't found out about it and told someone, I wouldn't still be alive.

"You don't trust magic, or wizards. I get that. I'm sure you had a very good reason even before this. But from where I'm sitting, those without magic are just as bad. I... don't trust muggles, or anyone, really."

Ondrea held out her hand for the vial. "You don't have to take that, if you don't want. Though, I'll bet that you'll change your mind when the previous dose finishes wearing off."

He nodded his head at the news of how he could get the potion. He'd deal with that later. For now he did not wish to think about that for the moment.

He looked at the painting, "Yes, I think he told me sumptin' along those lines 'fore yeah showed up; we were havin' a nice little chat."

He titled his head, but he did not say anything. He knew how this went down, and he had a feeling he knew what kind of story he was in for.

"That's too bad," he siad softly. "Yeah seem like a pretty good girl - when you ain't attackin' me that is," he gave her a lopsided smile, "They're missin' out on some good stuff I'd say."

Sighing, he leaned back on the bed, wincing slightly as his shoulder hit the soft surface. He should probably take that potion.

"My families all dead," he said after a moment. "I ain't too sure why I ain't either - I always wonder why I ain't either. So many times I shoulda, and then I just... don't."

"Maybe it ain't so much what the person is - magic, muggle - they can be good or bad or... whatever."

He had met quite a few people with magic that ain't so bad.