Luna Cry

A.N. I really shouldn't be allowed to write anymore...

Vincent, before he went to St. D's.

Features adult themes. I'm making half this crap up, but it sure does sound good (:




Most fifteen year olds had only trivial matters to worry about. They had school politics, choosing what clothes to wear, finding a date for the prom...Such pitiful things when compared to what one fifteen year old dealth with.

He had been abandoned by his father and his mother cast him out as if he were the devil incarnate. He'd lived on the streets and fallen in with the wrong crowds. The good little Christian schoolboy had been destroyed.

Were it not for the fact he was a monster Vincent doubted he would have survived.

Then again, were it not for the fact he was werewolf Vincent doubted he would have even had to go through such an ordeal.

He simply couldn't see any advantages in being what he was. The only good thing going for him was Kieran...and there was just something about him that set Vincent on edge. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the prickling feeling at the back of his mind, there was just something about Kieran that set his wolf half on edge.

Vincent and the werewolf were two seperate forms of concious thought. Vincent was only just starting to become more aware of what happened when the wolf took over.

Staring up at the ceiling, Vincent thought to voice his thoughts. "Do you think if I'm a werewolf for long enough there won't be a devide, and that I'll know everything that happens when I turn and have complete control over my body?"

There was a rustle of sheets and a devine face moved before his gaze, chocolate brown eyes looking intently down at him. A hand with a touch of ice cupped his cheek and the lips slid into a frown. "I've never met a werewolf that's had that happen I'm afraid," he said. "The pain never gets any easier."

Vincent looked away, tilting his head away from the comforting hand. He had hoped that his body would at least become accustommed to the pain that raged through his body during each full moon, but if Kieran said that the pain never became manageable then it must be true. Kieran had been alive for at least five centuries. If werewolves were as immortal as vampires and five hundred years worth of lycanthropy still had the same affect as just a few years then there was no way Vincent could argue; even if it did feel like it was getting easier to change.

Cold fingers slid under his chin, bringing his face back towards the vampire. "I have managed to acquire something that I think you'll enjoy," he said, smiling. Vincent thought he could see something malicious in that smile, but he chose to ignore it. Kieran was a vampire - he had evil in him just as much as Vincent did. "Only werewolves can feel its magic."

"I don't want it."

"Oh hush, sweetheart," he said, scolding him softly before leaning down to press his lips against Vincent's. "Just because its linked to you being a werewolf doesn't make it bad. In fact I've heard that its very, very good."

As Kieran slid off the large bed, Vincent watched him intently. Humans must have found that body simply irresistable. Everything about Kieran was the perfect trap. He could lure his victims in just by merely being in the same room as them. Even though he was no longer human, even Vincent found himself unable to resist the vampire's charms. It was less of what Kieran looked like though and more of what he offered. He locked Vincent away during the full moon, keeping people safe from his rampages. He gave Vincent a place to live, as well as some odd sort of companionship. Vincent felt that he would never fullfil the qualities required in becoming an Alpha Wolf and so Kieran provided the leadership that he craved without Vincent even knowing how much he wanted it.

After fetching a small wooden box from a drawer, the vampire returned to the bed, sitting beside his naked parter. Opening it, he reveal little three vials of a silver coloured liquid resting in red velvet in the bottom. But it wasn't them that drew Vincent's attention; it was what was set into the top half of the box.

A syringe.

"Kieran...?"

The vampire smiled again, soothing. "Its nothing bad; its only good."

"What is it...?"

"A scientist discovered it around a hundred years ago and the recipie has been constantly perfected since then. It was originally intended to act as a way to destroy a werewolf but instead it had a different reaction." Slender fingers lifted one of the glass vials and held it up to the light. The metallic coloured liquid had a transparent quality to it, and Vincent could pick out tiny crushed leaves settled on the bottom. "Wolfsbane, luna caustic, arnica montana and various other things that I haven't the slightest knowledge about." Placing the bottle back down, Kieran removed the needle and held it up before him. "What I do know though, is affects werewolves in a simply amazing way. I've heard it described that the feeling is much the same euphoria a vampire finds drinking the virgin blood of a human."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, unsure whether he wanted anything to do with this stuff. "But thats bad."

Kieran chuckled as he filled the syringe. "Drinking blood is bad - the components within this liquid are completely natural. You don't have to hurt anyone to enjoy this feeling." He gave a small smile; he seemed saddened by some internal thought. "Unlike myself." He turned to Vincent, fingers of his free hand drifting down Vincent's arm. "I envy you, sweetheart. I cannot experience this without harming a human."

"Its not...bad for me, is it?"

"I would never give you anything that was bad for you, Vincent. I simply wish for you to find something good about being a werewolf."

Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, Vincent pondered over it for a few silent moments before nodding his acceptance. Clenching his fingers into a fist, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from his arm before Kieran sunk the needle point into his skin.

The moment the liquid flowed into his viens it felt like his entire body was being both electrocuted and submereged in icy water at the same time. Falling back against the bed, Vincent stared up at the ceiling once more, only his eyes couldn't focus on it. His mind swam in a murky haze. He thought he could smell wet grass and wild trees. He thought he could smell fur, flesh and blood.

"Vincent?"

"Nnnnnnmmmm...."

"How does it feel?"

Vincent blinked, trying to find words in his head. It was almost like he wasn't supposed to form words. Letting out a soft whimper, it was simply too difficult to speak. No, not difficult; he just didn't want to. Talking was for humans.

Lost within whatever trance-like state the liquid had induced, Vincent couldn't see the way Kieran's smile had fell into an evil smirk. The vampire watched him for a few moments, noting how Vincent's human grey-brown eyes had changed to the beautiful yellow hue of his werewolf form.

- - - -

Vincent sat in his dorm room, a familiar wooden box held in his hands. Beside him sat a different figure. There was no longer a vampire sitting on the bed with him intent on using him for their own gains. Instead there was a human who had listened to Vincent explain just what was in the box; and what it did to werewolves.

"So...its a drug?"

"Its not addictive. It just...heightens the werewolf's senses. I was always stronger the next full moon after having taking this stuff. I never sought it out - but I never told Kieran no." The box had arrived in the post a few days ago and Vincent had done his all to hide it. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it though. It made him stronger, and stronger was good. He could protect Marshall even more if he was stronger. "But I have no control over the wolf. It blocks me out completely; its exactly like if I was first turned, only with less pain." Could strength be enough if he couldn't keep the werewolf conciousness from attacking the one he was supposed to be protecting.

Silently, Marshall reached over and placed his hand on Vincent's arm. "What's it called?"

"Lunacyrum. With a 'c', like in 'lunacy'."

"And...Kieran sent it to you because...?"

Vincent sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know. Maybe to mock me? Maybe he thinks I'm still weak and will give in and take the stuff, and he'll come back for me. Maybe he thinks that I miss him and want to go back..." He looked over at the one person that actually made him feel like he had worth after all he had been through. Kieran had only empty promises and lies. He never helped Vincent confront the fact he wasn't a monster. Marshall had nothing to gain from being with Vincent - nothing but his company. "I think he sent it to tell me he knows where I am."

"What are you going to do with it?"

Looking from the human to the box in his hands, Vincent sighed heavily. "I could never fully understand how Kieran thought, but whatever he thinks to gain by sending me this stuff isn't going to work." Closing the lid, Vincent placed the wooden box in Marshall's hands. "We'll destroy it together."