Unwilling

Please feel free to comment if you feel that there's something missing, or if you like it. I want to thank roughboy18 for his excellent help!

One more chapter will follow to give my sweetlings a happy end!

I am writing in a foreign language, and it takes its time :( Sorry for the waiting, I hope you like it!

Small disclaimer:

Suspension of disbelief is recommended. All characters are 18+.

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~*Carl*~

Carl's mind had never been stable, but it had totally crashed and crumbled a few months before what he used to call "the wife-incident". Everything had been alright as long as his late Beta, George, was there, second-guessing every order Carl gave, making him realize what was normal and which orders were too harsh.

Curling his upper lip Carl rammed the shovel into the sandy ground and heaved another pile of dirt out of the hole he was digging. Dark memories always made him moody, but at the same time he couldn't stop them from coming again and again.

George had always been his conscience, and they had worked so well together. When George had found that little runt of a street urchin eleven years ago, Carl had been happy for him and his wife, since they couldn't have children of their own, and he had cried and mourned with George when his wife had died a few years later. But where Carl had been able to go on living and find a wife of his own, George had never stopped mourning his spouse's passing. His heart had been broken, and shortly after his body followed.

A cry of pain echoed up the hills to where Carl was digging, and it stopped him in his tracks. Some lower sounds followed, but they were indistinguishable, and the cry itself hadn't reminded Carl of anyone. Could be Trevor, or Darwin, if that bastard had survived the beating. Carl's rational side urged him to go take a look and find out what had happened, but his mind didn't hold enough sanity to listen--it hadn't for a long time. He was digging a hole, and he didn't want to leave any work unfinished. It just wasn't right.

Not right.

Like George abandoning him two and a half years ago. A stroke, a damn stroke had taken his best friend and confidant away, and it had changed their relationship forever. It hadn't killed George, but it might as well have, leaving him incapable of moving freely or defending himself. Carl had never felt so lonely before, and even though he'd had a wife at the time, she had never been a fit replacement for George and his ability to stabilize Carl.

And when his wife had betrayed Carl, George hadn't been there. Nobody had been there to talk him out of it, to quench his rage or stop his battering fists, to keep him from doing something he would regret for the rest of his life. And when all was said and done, when his wife had been no more, reduced to nothing but a slimy, bloody pulp on the floor of his home, Carl had raged even more because George hadn't helped him, and they had both become widowers.

He had seen the true face of life, and it had made him weep and cry. He had sworn to himself he would never ever forget about the truth behind the happy facade the world was showing, and he had sworn to end it, because it just wasn't right.

The small grave was finished, and Carl climbed out of it with a low growl. What was taking Trevor so long? Now that his work was done he finally admitted to himself that it probably would be a good idea to investigate the sounds he had heard before, so he made his way downhill. There were no more screams, just the soft, lonesome sounds of creatures of the night, and the whispers of an autumn breeze in the trees. It sounded right. The woods also looked right, but the smell was off.

Blood was in the air that beautiful night.

When Carl finally found the ripped up pieces that once had been Trevor, the strong smell of fresh meat and blood had sent him into a hazy trance, making it hard to notice the details. He had to retch and spit five times to get the taste out of his mouth, the smell was that intense, but when he finally had his wits about him, he only needed one 360° spin to put the pieces together.

Werewolf attacks were pretty easy to identify, once you learned the signs. The cut up abdomen, where the body was most vulnerable, the broken neck that at least had granted Trevor a merciful death, and the claw marks. They were everywhere, not only on the body parts, but also on the ground and a nearby tree. Only one pissed off werewolf could wreak this much havoc in such a short time. Carl knew that, because he had been there more than once. It had taken him more than a year to get some kind of control over his rages without George's help. To not make that kind of a mess anymore.

Now Carl killed with control and precision, and it made his life so much easier.

Had Darwin done this to Trevor? Trevor had neither been the sharpest knife in the drawer, nor the biggest hunk in the pack. There were a few werewolves able to subdue Trevor, but to rip him up like that? Carl sniffed thoughtfully, then turned to scent the claw marks at the nearest tree trunk. There was a note of Trevor and Darwin, but another scent mingled with them and it made Carl's head spin for a second, raising his hackles and eliciting a deep, low growl from him.

Alpha.

He didn't think about it, he just opened his trousers, whipped out his dick, and pissed over the marks until his own pungent smell covered everything else. There was no way he'd let that strange stink stay as it was, not when he had to call in someone to help clean up. Another Alpha had metaphorically pooped on his front porch, a direct challenge to his reign, and any dominant smelling that other presence would automatically take it as a sign of weakness in Carl.

When the task was done he turned around and walked back towards the house. Since Trevor was obviously out of the picture, he'd have to think up a new, believable tale for his pack. They'd never understand if he told them the truth, and he needed them to follow his orders. Everything depended on it. Everything!

When the door fell shut behind Carl, he suddenly knew who would be able to take Trevor's place. He'd still have to assemble a believable story for the rest of his troops, but the newly turned one, that werewolf everyone just called "the accident", had been nagging him about a chance to prove himself for weeks now, and he seemed increasingly desperate about it. Frowning, Carl searched his contacts, trying to remember the name.

Rob? Rick? Ah there, Rayne.

Satisfied with his choice and quick thinking, Carl dialed the number. "Rayne, good evening. You asked me for a chance to show your talents. Well, today's your lucky day! Meet me at the pack house as soon as possible. I'll wait here."

Suddenly things were looking up for Carl. Now he'd definitely be able to set the world right again.

~*Harry*~

Harry didn't notice Jared's disappearance until the pizza delivery guy knocked at the door the third time. "Jared?" he called, then turned off the shower and fished for a towel to rush to the door dripping wet. Jared's room was empty, Harry's mobile phone was lying at the floor, and the pizza guy made a sour face when Harry barely had enough money to pay the pizza, but not enough for a tip.

Harry put the pizza on the empty desk, then went back to the bathroom to finish his shower, unperturbed by Jared's absence. Jared probably just had gone out for a second, and surely would be back soon, Harry mused as he dried his hair. Of course, Jared didn't own a blow dryer, as Harry amusedly discovered, but his short hair would dry just nicely without that luxury this once.

He already felt better, though the thought of Darwin still made his chest hurt. Jared had promised to fix things, and Harry trusted the Alpha to actually be able to do just that. Reckoning Jared would be back soon he put on his clothes, wiped the shower walls dry, and sat down at the desk to eat. He left half of the pizza for Jared at first, but when midnight came and went he finished off the last pieces and looked for his mobile phone.

The battery was empty, and to top off his streak of bad fortune Jared didn't have the same make of phone, making it impossible to recharge Harry's phone on the spot. Harry didn't want to leave the Alpha's room. He felt safe there, but at the same time he felt the urgent need to find out where Jared was and why he wasn't back yet. With a sigh he grabbed the empty pizza carton, left Jared's dorm room, and walked out of Statsby Hall.

Harry's room was on the other side of the campus, nearly a half-hour walk from Statsby Hall, and at that time of night he was all alone. He wasn't afraid of darkness, but the day had already held too many surprises for Harry's taste, and his nerves were raw. It was probably just fatigue that made him see things, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was being followed, and when he saw a shadow move between the bushes of the small on-campus park, he decided that jogging home would be a prudent thing to do.

He reached his dorm room out of breath and sweaty, but safe and sound. Harry did look out of the window though, and when he saw another shadow move down the street, he had to suppress a shiver of fear. Something was definitely wrong out there.

He checked the lock on his door, made sure the windows were all closed, and connected his cell phone to the charging cable.

Freaking out would be a bad thing--Harry knew that. But the minutes he had to wait for his phone to charge felt like hours, and every time he looked out the window his anxiety spiked even further. Goosebumps crawled all over his body, his breath was rapid and harsh and didn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon, and when he finally tried to turn on his phone his fingers shook so hard he could barely manage to press the button.

Harry felt a change coming, but he tried to suppress it as he dialed Jared's number. His whole body shook with fear and adrenaline as the ring sounded once, twice, three times, then the connection broke. Swearing heartily he tried it again, but with the same results. Wherever Jared was, he had no reception, and his voice mail must have been deactivated. Maybe whoever stalked around out there had also been after Jared? Maybe he was already gone, or dead, or hurt somewhere?

"Deep breaths, Harry, deep breaths, don't let it take you," he mumbled through numb lips, trying hard to control the urge to change shape. Shuddering heavily he threw the mobile phone onto his desk, took a few steps back, and rubbed his prickling arms. If he could just slow his breathing, only a little, he would be able to--

There was a wet, popping sound, and he felt the skin on his back break. Not even Harry's prayers could stop the shift to his wolf form now, and he blacked out.

~*~

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the sharp tang of dog piss. He was laying on his dorm room floor, surrounded by ripped pieces of clothing, feathers from his damaged pillow and a chewed up shoe, signs of deep unhappiness his wolf had left for him. There was a smallish dog turd next to the scratched up door, wet spots at the table leg of his desk, and at some point during the night his wolf had slept on the bed, making it a dog's dinner, so to speak.

Groaning, Harry closed his eyes again and tried imagining himself into another realm, where people didn't lose their recollections of a whole night just because of a lousy anxiety attack. This kind of thing hadn't happened to him in a few years, and he'd thought he was over such childish problems. Losing the wolf-memories or even disconnecting the human side from the wolf side in a change was common in teenagers, but stopped when a werewolf reached his adulthood. Which meant that Harry had just had a flash-back episode. Great.

He carefully peeled open his eyes again. His room was still messed up, and nothing had changed.

He collected himself off the floor with a curse, rubbed his pounding head, and took a look around. His books were untouched, his phone still lay on the desk where he'd put it the night before, and since nobody was pounding on his door he could safely assume that there hadn't been any reason for his neighbors to call animal control or the police.

Sending a short, thankful prayer to the powers that be he quickly cleaned up the feces, then scrubbed the desk leg and the floor beneath it with soap and water. Pushing the windows open he let in clean, fresh autumn air that blew around the scattered feathers while Harry collected the leftovers of his shoe and the pillow in a garbage bag. The dirty, messed up bed sheet and blanket covers would require a bit more work, so he just changed them and put them into a laundry basket.

Harry itched to call Jared, to find out if he was okay, but he knew he had to calm down first-- another involuntary change would just cost him a few more hours, and quite possibly a fine for damaging university property. The only way to avoid another attempt to call was for him to go out of his way with busying his hands, and to stay away from his phone. He decided to take his dirty clothes down to the laundry room and try reaching Jared after that.

It took him a total of two hours to get through all of his dirty clothes and the bedding, but when he finally carried his stuff back to his room he felt much calmer than before. All the calm vanished instantly when he heard the distinct ring tone of his mobile phone through his locked dorm room door, and had to drop all the clean laundry to scramble for the keys in his jeans pocket.

The fear of being too late nearly brought him to tears and made him think of the most horrible circumstances in which Jared and/or Darwin could be right now. He didn't even wait to close his door behind him, he just scrambled for his desk, ripped off the charger cable and answered the call breathlessly and in tears.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Jared. I found Darwin, but he's hurt," a moody voice huffed. Harry recognized him right away, but the words nearly made his heart stop. Darwin was hurt? The small bit of information was enough to make Harry's heart race and his vision blur, and it brought back the itching along his back.

"Where are you? Where is he? Can I talk to him?" Harry hissed, balling his free hand into a fist to keep his instincts in check. Jared wouldn't have called him if he didn't need Harry's help, and he wouldn't be able to help if he behaved like an uncontrolled freak again.

"No you can't. He's got healing fever, and it's getting worse, so I need you to do something for me. Are you listening?" Jared sounded so angry, but something told Harry that the anger wasn't meant for him. Whoever had hurt Darwin would pay if Jared ever got to them, that was for sure.

Harry had a pretty good inkling as to who was to blame, but it wasn't his place to tell-- not yet. "What do you need?" he said, although millions of other questions lay at the tip of his tongue.

"I need Ibuprofen, as concentrated as you can get it. Some clothes from my room, something for Darwin too. And some light food. Can you manage that?"

Harry instinctively tightened his grip on his phone, frozen with nightmarish visions about what could have happened to get Darwin hurt so bad he got healing fever, and only when he heard the hard plastic crunch did he snap out of his daze.

"Yes. Send me the coordinates. It'll take me an hour to get the stuff together, but I'll hurry." It wouldn't be too hard to get into Darwin's room, since the dorm master had seen them together dozens of times. Getting into Jared's room would need a bit more convincing, but Harry had a pretty good incentive to get it done. The Ibuprofen was the least of his worries.

Harry still wanted to know what had happened, but before he could ask anything, Jared ended the call with a curt "See you." He stared at his phone for long seconds, then he shook himself and rushed to get his laundry inside before taking off.

He never reached Darwin's room though.

Just as he came to the stair well leading down to the exit, something hard hit the back of his head, hard enough to kill a human, hard enough to send a werewolf to sleep, and he went down as the world around him blackened.

~*Jared*~

"Get out of my way!" Darwin screeched, shoving Jared who was blocking the cabin's doorway by simply extending his arms. If this went on like this any longer, blows would be exchanged, and seeing as how Darwin was still gravely injured, Jared had to decide what to do soon if he wanted to avoid hurting him further.

The news of Harry's disappearance had had a bigger impact than Jared had anticipated, and Jared hadn't calculated in the sheer stubbornness Darwin could display. Things had gone from a barely contained kind of angry resolve to a yell-fest within minutes, and now Darwin seemed ready to punch Jared just to get past him. It gave Jared an idea.

Stepping out of the way he let Darwin hobble outside and into the cool fall sunshine, but followed him closely. Darwin still was very weak, his injuries occasionally bleeding, so Jared didn't have any trouble keeping up with the simmering submissive.

"Listen, Darwin," he began, and instantly had to dodge a flailing fist directed at his chest. Darwin didn't even stop walking, not caring if he had missed or not. But Jared didn't give up that easily. "Just listen, okay? You can keep walking if you want, but you won't stop me from talking!"

Darwin didn't respond for a few steps, then he stopped with a pained expression and turned around. "Fine. But whatever you say, I've already made up my mind." His voice was dripping acid again, and it made Jared take an step back, uncertain where he stood.

"You're hurt. Don't get me wrong, you being all heroic does have a certain sex appeal, but I'm not into dead bodies. If you go out there, you'll probably find Harry alright. And then he'll have to watch you die like a sickly, frail wuss who couldn't even put a scratch on his attackers." Jared took a deep breath and kept his eyes fixated on Darwin's face. The darkness in those icy-blue eyes nearly made him want to back down, but not only was he absolutely sure of his words, he also felt an intense fear he'd never felt for anyone else before, and it freaked him out.

"I don't want to force you to stay, but if I let you walk, you'll fall down and not get up again somewhere out there. You'll never even make it to the main road, and Harry will never realize what a loyal friend he has. And me? I'll have to watch you force yourself to walk, I'll have to watch you fall and stand up again, and I'll know if I tried to help you, you'd hate me for the rest of your life. Please, don't do that to Harry and me."

Darwin tried not to let how much impact Jared's words had show, but his gaze started wavering. He looked over his shoulder and down the dirt road as if waging his chances, and Jared kept quiet until their gazes met again. He felt silent panic tingling in his finger tips, not daring to make any move or say too much. Only when Darwin looked down at his shoes did Jared resume talking.

"I WANT you to save Harry. I want to help you save him, but I want us to succeed at it. This is as much my fault as whoever did this to you, and I'm ready to back you up in whatever crazy thing you want to do-- once you've recovered enough to be able to actually do it. We need a plan, and we need to get you better, but we can't do either if you stumble down that road right now in the state you're in."

Darwin stood there in silence for a good minute. Then he slowly raised his eyes, looked desolately at Jared and whispered:, "What if they killed him?" His voice sounded broken, faint and so full of sorrow, it tugged painfully at Jared's heart.

It was hard to breathe through the shared pain, but finally Jared took a deep breath and murmured, "If they've killed him, you being there won't change that. But if they haven't killed him yet, they'll surely do it as soon as they've killed you. His best chance is you in a condition to fight and actually rescue him."