The End

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2A5OCSMvrw - has inspired this

It was growing dark. Nightfall was creeping like shadows in the corners of the room. An entire day spent with fingers tugging at hair in frustration, a growl rumbling at the back of the throat. No one dared come within ten feet of the raging mass of teenager. He'd even taken his rage out on the man who he hadn't seen in years.

"You're no father of MINE!"

Alex was going to have to replace the front door of his dentist's office...or come up with a skilled way to explain the way an eighteen year old boy had torn it from its hinges and broken it in two. Such a scrawny looking thing had such a power in those arms that looked so weak. He'd gone to try and patch things up between them. It was hopeless - he'd chosen the wrong day to go. With the full moon so close, Vincent was not in any mood to be treated like an innocent child - or put up with Alex Lyall's crap.

Stroming through the streets, dark eyes glaring at the pavement he stomped upon as he walked along. Maybe he should see Ainsely. She'd calm him down. Lock him up. Let him roar out his pain.

God, why had you abandoned him?

Shadows stretched long across the ground, and the moon that was hidden by the fading daylight caused every inch of Vincent's skin to prickle and tingle. Vincent pushed fingers against his skull, growling low in his throat. He was near the school now. No one was around to witness the teenager in those few moments before the sun sank and the silver moon beamed down on his body.

"Hey...You're Vincent, right?"

Well, obviously not as alone as he thought. With slow and juddering motions, Vincent lifted his head to lay bloodshot eyes on a male in his early twenties. Twenty-two, twenty-three. Honestly, Vincent couldn't care. Teeth were sharp in his gums as he growled at the bastard.

"Marshall told me about you. Said you guys were friends."

Vincent didn't dare speak. His vocal chords were ripping apart in his throat. Wolves didn't talk. The male stood with a sense of self-pride while Vincent stood curled in on himself. The bones in his fingers ached. The moon was coming.

"I should get inside." he forced out, noting how every word he spoke rumbled like a wild animal's threat. He caught the first spark of fear in the older male's eyes. That's it; be terrified. Vincent was more of a monster than he ever would meet. "I shouldn't be here."

"Its not that late." The male looked around. "The sun has nearly set though" He turned to look back at Vincent, holding out his hand. "I'm Sullivan by the way." Sullivan. Marshall mentioned that name with caution in his voice. It was a rocky road - like Vincent trying to say Keiran's name. This Sullivan was placing himself on the same level of the vampire bastard. "I hope Marshall hasn't said anything bad about me to you. I guess you guys are closer than I ever was."

Vincent tugged on the sleeves of his shirt. Run, you bastard. Stop talking and just flee. "Go away!" Vincent barked. "GOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAY!"

Sullivan looked shocked, holding his hands up in defence. "Hey, don't get so angry, kay?"

The werewolf growled, and all he could see was red. Pain in his body. There was barely any light in the sky. The moon hung behind clouds, laughing evilly inside Vincent's head. A scream rose up from the depths of Vincent's lungs and he fell to his knees, hands clutching his head.

Sullivan, confused, stood and watched the teenager collapse to the grassy ground.

A young werewolf took time to change. The body needed time to adjust from one set of bones to another. Vincent practically burst out of his human form into the seven foot tall beast of black fur. There was no voice in the threat for Sullivan to run as jaws parted with rows of white fangs, growl a deep rumble like thunder in the distance yet so close to force someone to paralyse with a deep seated fear.

Yellow eyes stared down at the human. Inside his own head, Vincent was still screaming.

"Vincent!" cried a voice.

Head swung to the side to see a blond that felt so familiar running up to them. Standing on strong hind legs, the werewolf dropped onto all fours before the teenager.

"Marshall?"

"Sulli, run!"

This time, the older male did as he was told. The werewolf made to move after it, but Marshall cried out his name again, and inside the lycanthrope's body, the boy heard and kept the body firmly rooted to the spot. Ignoring the other human, it moved closer to the source of a scent no other human could possess, and nuzzled against Marshall's cheek.

Ainsely was obviously having an effect on the werewolf. Not enough to make it a careful creature, but enough for it to at least recognise people Vincent saw on a daily basis. Recognition flashed in the yellow eyes, and with a growl, the werewolf turned and raced in the opposite direction, leaving Marshall standing there, watching the creature until the darkness swallowed it up.