Character Name: CASSIEL HAMISH SABEL
Nickname: Hamish, Cassiel/Cas (Rarely)
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Grade: Junior
Subject: n/a
Race: Werewolf
Play-by: Misha Collins
Appearance:

Hamish stands at 5ft 11 inches, on the short side for his age and species. He is rather lean, only weighing at about 136 pounds. He would be considered scrawny if not for his werewolf virus. Being a werewolf gives Hamish a fast metabolism, allowing him to eat whatever he wants without gaining anything but has the dangerous consequence of Hamish losing a lot of weight very quickly if he does not eat the right amount every day. He has pale features and a constant pensive expression, forehead lined slightly due to stress and constant light frowns of concentration. Dark stubble is scattered over his features and can get out of control rather quickly should he forget to keep it in check. His hair is a dark ebony colour, streaked slightly with silver and is perpetually messy, sticking up at odd angles and even straight up as though defying gravity sometimes. His body is scored with scars, the worst of which being a mess of mangled flesh on his upper right arm and shoulder. This is his bite scar and covers his shoulder, edging onto his chest and below his shoulder blade. This scar wraps around his arm completely and often gives him pain, especially close to a New/Full moon. The muscle damage done by this bite makes his right arm weaker than the other and is prone to seizing up and becoming stiff in cold or wet weather. Most notable after this wound is the four ragged claw marks that rip across his back and wind around the left side of his rib cage, stopping just before his naval. The rest of his body is scattered with many other smaller scars, some less visible than others and nearly all of them claw marks. The only ones that are nearly always visible are the scattering of scars across the back of his neck which can only hidden by a raised collar or scarf. Apart from his scars, which are guarded carefully, the most notable feature of Hamish is his eyes. They are an intense, cerulean blue and glow near constantly with curiosity. Along with the fact that Hamish has a habit of staring whenever he is lost in thought, his eyes can appear unnerving. His unwavering stare is often made even stranger by the fact that light hitting off his blue orbs can make them flash gold briefly, especially around the Full/New moon. He wears the school uniform religiously although has trouble with the tie, often tying it backwards or at an uneven length. His wide eyed look of innocent confusion and canine-like quirk of his head often keep him out of trouble however.

Personality:

Religious Faith: Hamish is forever faithful, having great opinions and little doubts about those he is close to. He can see their worth easily and dotes on them for it, forever insightful to those around him. Even when everyone else seems to lose hope, Hamish will stand rigidly by his beliefs. This also stretches to his religion, having strong faith in God despite being a werewolf and his traumatic life. He believes that when he dies he will however, go to Hell despite his faith. He accepts that he has sinned and that animals have no place in Heaven. He does hope to, in one life, be back in Gods' Grace.

Undying Loyalty: His deep faith also expresses how deeply loyal he is. His loyalty is very present in everything he does, especially to those he loves. Although he has had little chance to reflect this side of him in his social life, or lack thereof, but this is still a big part of him. He will show strong loyalty to his friends, willing to fight and even kill for them.

Cautiously Reserved: Hamish is surprisingly quiet and collected for his breed. He tends to keep his emotions in check and often looks rather blank or pensive. He loathes being over-emotional, as werewolves are expected to be, and has trained himself extensively to keep himself cool and controlled. He also doesn't let his emotions get in the way when seeing the bigger picture, something he is greatly adept at. He keeps himself out of arguments, watching quietly but ready to intervene should a friend be in trouble. He usually just stays away from others altogether, finding they just frustrate him. Frustration in a werewolf can often very quickly lead to violent outbursts so Hamish is sure to lock himself somewhere quiet and with little people that would demand a taxing social interaction.

Quietly Resolved: Once Hamish has it in his mind to do something, there is very little that can stop him. It takes him little time to think over a situation and choose the best path of action, despite his limited social intelligence. Once on the path, he wont move from it without a fight. He is silent in his battles however, rarely letting on that anything is in fact happening with him. His resolve will be so strong that he will go through with anything should he think it's the right thing to do in the long run. This can make him appear cold hearted sometimes but he doesn't let that dampen his passion.

Innocently Quirky: An amusing quality to Hamish's nature is his childlike innocence. He’s sometimes peculiar in his actions because behaving ‘human’ is, naturally, foreign to him. There are a lot of things about humanity that he doesn’t fully understand, like lying for instance, so there is some stumbling through situations because of his canine tendencies and new found personal will and conscience. Social interactions are a complete mystery to him so he can often be seen at the edge of a conversation just staring at the speaker intently with a slightly canted head. He often falls back on canine behaviors, even if he despises letting the Wolf have any influence on his actions and would rather keep him locked up in his mind. His curiosity is also alarmingly puppy-like when he lets it get a hold of him, striving to know everything about the things around him. He has a tendency to ask a lot of questions, staring at the person of interest without blinking while they explain their answer to him.

Friendly Weakness: If there is any kinks in Hamish's personality, apart from The Wolf, it would be his soft spot for those he loves. His steel like resolve can often be broken very easily by those he is close to. He is willing to do anything for his friends, going along with their wishes without much questioning. This can sometimes allow him to overlook details where is friends are concerned and make bad decisions. His actions are always good-hearted but can sometimes have bad effects on the situation or people around him. His personal attachment can make him biased and weaken his resolve.

Volatile: Despite his quiet nature and well meaning, Hamish is still a werewolf. His situation can almost be described as schizophrenic, due to him having a 'Second Mind' in the form of The Wolf he becomes at Full/Half moons. It constantly paces his mind and thrashes at his mental shields, trying desperately to assert its' dominance and take over the body of its' Host. Should Hamish lose mental control, The Wolf will invade his mind and make him almost as dangerous as he is during transformations. His emotions are erratic and violent, stemming from the fact that The Wolf can't handle complex emotions and will revert back to hostility and rage for everything it does not understand. Hamish keeps The Wolf in check as much as he can but around Full/Half moons, The Wolf surfaces and can make him snappy and impatient. Whenever The Wolf surfaces, it peers through Hamish's eyes and make them flash a bright, animalistic yellow/gold. If a situation or conversation gets to emotionally taxing, Hamish will lose control over his emotions and often become violent. He hates this and hates The Wolf for it. The Wolf hates Hamish just as much and their 'relationship' often causes Full/Half moons to be a violent struggle, Hamish coming out the worst as The Wolf will turn on its' own body if there is a lack of humans to kill or animals to distract it.

History:

Cassiel was born in 1996 to Oliver Gregory Sabel and Anna Uriel Sabel. The first eight years of his life were fairly peaceful. They lived in an isolated area in the country, with woodland stretching out behind them and rolling fields on either side. Three years after his own birth came the arrival of his brother, Michael Balthazar Sabel.

Anna was deeply religious, often reading to her sons from the bible. She also named both her sons after Angels, a mark of her faith in God. While Oliver was fairly absent from the family life, having a business of his own to run in the city a few miles away, he was a compassionate father and loved his family unwaveringly.

Cassiel had always been fascinated by the Bibles' stories, especially the tales of Angels. He had a great thirst for knowledge, wanting to know everything that was written and often stealing his mothers Bible to read from it himself, despite his struggles with the long words and strange tongue. He delighted in reading to his little brother, doting on Michael from the moment he was born even if sometimes he was a pain to deal with. He loved the fact that he was named after an Angel, feeling it made him closer to his mothers religion.

When Cassiel turned eight however, his life changed very suddenly.

One night, after the family had shared dinner together, Cassiel was sitting by the fire with his little brother, playing sleepily while they awaited their Mothers call to get ready for bed. A sudden crash from outside distracted the brothers, pausing in their play to stare wide-eyed at the front door. Anna muted the television briefly, frowning absently as the sounds of items being knocked into continued. Michael squeaked in surprise as the door was roughly knocked against, as if something had fell against the wooden panel in its' drunken walk. Cassiel wrapped protective arms around his brother while feeling a curl of fear himself. He looked to his mother for reassurance, frowning at her with bright blue eyes.

Anna had been half way out her chair with the intent of going to the door when it happened. The window on the opposite side of the room exploded, showering Cassiel and his brother with broken glass as Anna yelled her horror at the creature that had invaded the home. Cassiel dragged Michael under himself as the youngster cried out in pain and terror, curling tightly around the smaller body with a slight whimper of fear.

The creature that had flung itself through the window was huge. Cassiel had thought it was a dog at first, a great black furred creature the size of a bear, but it was clear that it was no dog.
The creatures body seemed deformed, twisted as though crushed and stretched through a small hole. It's legs were too long for its' willowy form, paws stretching out like the branches of a steel black tree in winter and topped with curving, talon like claws. The skull was too round, long ears directly on either side of the skull and not on top like they should be. The muzzle was long and sharp however, stretched out so it was horribly thin with thick fangs sprouting in every direction. The spine was curved and pressed against the exposed flesh of its' back and was very long, pulling out into a wire-like tail that had a great tuft of fur on the end like a lions.

It was willow thin with bones sticking out in all directions but at the same time, areas like the shoulders were enveloped in large, thick bands of muscles. The skin was pulled taught over the creature as if it was too small for the spindly body, ebony black fur sprouting randomly and thickly in certain areas like the back of its neck.

It shook its' long skull, sending blood spattering across the wooden floorboards as it tried to steady itself. Anna was screaming now but the creature simply opened its' flashing, gold flecked yellow eyes which rolled madly and snarled at her before whipping around at howling wrathfully and Cassiel and Michael as the elder picked up a handful of broken glass and hurled it at the creatures tar black haunch.

'Bad dog!'

He had shouted at it, clinging to his screaming brother protectively as he leered at the 'dog' as best as he could through his tearful blue eyes and crimson smeared face as blood leaked from a clean cut on his forehead.

The beast had roared in outrage and snapped into the closest piece of flesh near it. Michaels' leg. It ripped into the soft, yielding flesh and pulled the youngster away from Cassiel violently, slick teeth spattering blood over its' long muzzle.

Michael screamed in agony and tried to cling to Cassiel as he was dragged away, tiny hands clenching and unclenching spazmatically. Cassiel screamed as well and jumped at the dog, pounding at its' bloody skull with a tightly closed fist as he yelled for it to give back his brother. The creature snarled and flung away Michael, shaking its' skull to dislodge the eight year old where it proceeded to rip into Cassiels' shoulder.

Cassiel howled his agony and writhed around, interlocking teeth mangling the flesh of his arm with ease. He tried to tear away from the blood and sheared flesh but the creature curled one of its' stretched paws around his back to hold him still, talon like claws shearing through the skin of his back and curving around Cassiels' ribs as he struggled.

The only sound Cassiel could hear was the shredding of his own flesh and the raw, painful snarls of the dog that held him down, its' gored jaws clicking together beside his right ear. He could hear a backdrop of screams and yells but he didn't know where they came from. All his blue eyes could focus on was the rolling, yellow eye in front of him and the sprays of blood that spurted from his ruined shoulder.

Suddenly, the air around them exploded. The creature released his shoulder and reared back with an agonized howl, thick trails of blood spiraling from its' jaws.

Suddenly, Cassiel was being grabbed. He whimpered and squirmed, all sounds muted and far away except the constant buzz of a single, high pitched bell that rattled his pained ears. He was aware of being carried somewhere and then placed somewhere dark and cool. He managed to focus on the force that had grabbed him away from the dog, his mother. Her bright, blue eyes were overflowing with tears, slender body shuddering with heavy sobs as she stroked his bloodied forehead. His ears stopped ringing and he noted she was muttering fervently under her breath, praying he recognized.

She gave him a pained smile as she saw his cloudy eyes were on her and sobbed brokenly before kissing his blood-stained brow with a feather light touch.

'Angels watch over you.'

She uttered around a sob and pulled away to repeat the actions with a smaller, twitching bundle of blood and cloth. Cassiel tried to whimper for her to return, to hold him and make the monsters leave but she simply sobbed out more prayers and stroked his messy hair and the bloody bundle beside him which he recognized, with a start, as his brother.

He was suddenly aware of other sounds. Howling that made him want to scream, snarls and thumps that told him the night was alive. He heard other things, explosions and furious yells which he noticed were his fathers, who usually never shouted.

Anna prayed for her sons feverishly before getting up and staggering to the door. She stumbled out and pulled it shut behind her, repeating prayers over and over to keep her sons safe. As she descended the stairs, she was met with chaos.

The warm family room was spattered with blood and gore, glass scattered over the room like hidden gems. She saw her husband, armed with a rifle he had only used occasionally for hunting, battling with a great, monstrous creature that was only found in fairy tales. The demon howled wrathfully at him and flashed its' talon like claws, snapping its' slim, bloodied jaws in his direction while dodging bullets.

The wraith like creature moved with unnatural speed, like a shadow against the wall and this time its' frenzied claws struck their mark. Oliver yelled as blood exploded from his torn chest. The blow sent him hurling into the wall, head cracking off it soundly and letting him sprawl to the crimson floor, leaving a smear of blood behind in his wake.

Anna screamed as the demon surged upon her fallen love and ripped into his chest, dexterous claws pulling apart the flesh and muscle and long snout shoving thick fangs between his exposed ribs. Oliver howled and yelled in agony as he was shredded, flailing under the might of the demon. He aimed his rifle up one last time and managed to squeeze the trigger. The bullet he released fired into the beasts head, ripping through one if its' glowing, yellow eyes and spilling slick, warm blood onto his ghostly face.

Anna had run forward, picking up a long sliver of glass as she did so and rammed it into the back of the demons skull, blood still bubbling from the charred bullet wound on its' skull. The creature gave a horrible howl and twisted around, shoving curved talons into her exposed stomach and ripping her body from naval to chest.

The monster fled the scene quickly after this, lamenting over its' hurt and hunger as it ran. It left behind two mangled parents and a pair of broken brothers. It never looked back.
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Cassiel passed out after the event, waking up in the darkness to the sharp tang of blood and a writhing, agonized brother. When Cassiel found the will to push himself upright, he inspected his brothers ripped form, noting the only part of him that was still bleeding was the great, weeping wound on his thigh although it was not nearly as bad as it should have been. Cassiel found the same was true for himself, the only wound that remained bleeding on his thin body was the mangled bite of his shoulder, that was oozing blood horribly. He ran his fingers over the gash on his head to find it scabbed over and quickly lifted his ragged shirt to inspect the four, ripping gashes that wrapped around the left side of his ribs cage to find them in worse shape than his head wound but no longer bleeding, he wondered how long he'd been sleeping.

Cassiel saw to his brother, ripping off some of his torn clothes to wrap them around the bloody wound as Michael writhed beneath him, moaning and chocking as his eyes rolled around in their sockets.

After waiting for his parents and attempting to call for them, the only thing coming from his mouth being a hoarse choke that could have been a scream at one point, he heaved his younger brother upright and began to drag him downstairs to look for their parents. The sight that met him in the family room was enough to make his legs buckle and a raw scream rip from his throat.

Flesh and blood was everywhere, coating the once warm room in spatters of crimson and chunks of raw meat. The bodies in the corner of the room made Cassiel whimper and howl with grief for a long time before he managed to tear his gaze away from them and drag his brother away from the scene.

Michael didn't seem effected. He just kept rolling his head and making odd, choked sounds that ripped his throat raw. Cassiel dragged his little brother out of the house, escaping the thick, metallic cloud that hung over the place he had lived, and sought refuge in the great forests that stretched behind his home.
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After days of wandering the wide expanse of woodland, Cassiel finally collapsed. He was cold and hungry, the pain of his shoulder and not lessened and the wounds that curved around his ribs were searing in agony. The flesh of his brothers thigh had turned black and smelt awful as it festered away with infection.

Michael was no longer coherent. He writhed and fought against Cassiel, snapping at his hands as he tried to clean the wounds and letting out the raw, primal growl whenever Cassiel touched or approached him. Michaels' eyes, which had once been a steely grey/blue, the colour of the sky just before a storm, had turned a feral yellow colour and flashed near constantly with rage and fear. He didn't seem to recognize Cassiel at all, no matter how long Cassiel talked to his brother and sobbed his grief over his lost parents, Michael would just snarl at him and skin his lips over his blunt teeth in a threatening manner. He acted more like a caged animal than a brother now.

But Cassiel would never abandon him, not even as the colour slowly started to drain from his vision. Day by day he would see less colours until the only things he could pick out were egg whites and ash blacks. He sobbed fearfully at this, wondering what it meant. Perhaps God was punishing him for being a bad brother and not protecting Michael better.


Finally, one night under the false light of a New moon, Cassiel collapsed as agony overtook him. He screamed as his skin burned and his organs twisted up inside him. He passed out as the first bone snapped under his skin, unable to stay awake through the horrible thing that was happening to him.
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When The Wolf finally got its' bearings and turned its' sharp snout around the wide area with a hungry snarl, the first thing its' yellow eyes fell upon was an abomination.

There, before it was a creature like itself but much more deformed. Its' body was twisted and ripped open, spine curving outward horribly as though it was too big for the body it was bunched inside. Long, branching limbs stretched out like broken branches of trees within a storm. The rib cage was split open and expanding out of the chest, exposing pulsing organs that did not seem out of place until the heart was seen. The heart was beating frantically but the left ventricle was too small for the beast it was expected to animate. The right ventricle was expanded to twice the size of its' other half and was pulsing sluggishly, the deformed muscle unable to operate properly. The flesh was festered and burst in places, exposing taught muscles and bright arteries.

The worst part was its' skull. The dome was caved in and split down the middle as though it was trying to grow in another part of bone. The increased fragments of bones towards the nose were fanned out to form a splintered muzzle of some description. The bottom jaw was dislocated and hung out uselessly, too large for its' partner.

Despite the broken body, a yellow, spinning eye managed to stare up at the other Wolf. Its' eye was maddened with pain but flashed with wrathful challenge. The Wolf snarled at the disgusting creature and stooped down to put the thing out of its' misery.
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Cassiel had no idea how long he had been out, again. He awoke to pain. Pain everywhere. White hot in his skull as though his head was filled with the broken glass from his house. Every nerve screamed with agony, body tight and on fire. He couldn't open his eyes for the pain nor could he move.

He felt his body was crusted with something that stuck to his whole body. In some places it was a slick, sticky liquid that was cooling against his pained skin.

When he finally did open his eyes, wincing and whimpering in the pain the weak light caused his dry, burning eyes, he found colour was once again swimming in his vision.

After what felt like hours of adjusting to the world around him, he finally twisted his head around and choked out a raw shout to the forest around him.

'Michael?'

What his eyes found were not Michael, but a slick of some crimson sludge and splinters of pink stained fragments.

The whole scene seemed familiar. It was then that Cassiel tasted metal on his dry, bloated tongue. He craned his head up to look at himself and saw his naked form was coated in a slick of blood and hunks of flesh. There were, however, little to no wounds on himself.

This was someone elses' blood that was cooling on his skin.

This was Michaels blood.
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Hamish wasn't too sure what happened. The nice lady with red hair, Mel she said he could call her, kept asking him if he was alright and fussing over the cuts on his thin body. She made sure he was warm enough and brought him hot soup but made sure he didn't choke it down too fast and make himself sick, even while he skinned his teeth at her and snapped at her fingers. She had also bandaged his mangled right arm and the gashes across his back that curved around his ribs, checking them with much struggling and writhing from Hamish.

The scary man, Dexter, asked if he remembered what happened, sharp hazel eyes watching him carefully. He asked if he knew what he was and explained the situation to Hamish when he only swiped at Dexters' head with an open hand and clicking teeth.

Apparently, he was something called a 'Werewolf'. A supernatural being born of blood and moon-shadows.

Dexter had explained more but Hamish had proceeded to get more violent and restless so he left him to Mels' gentle attention.

After a few days of being doted on by Mel and having questions asked and other explanations offered by Dexter, some strange men with pristine suits that smelt of soap powder and too many nasty chemicals that made Hamishs' sensitive nose burn, came around and talked to Dexter and Mel.

Hamish couldn't help it but at the time he had snapped and made feral, raw sounds at these men and at Dexter and Mel. He had struggled away from them and hid under the tables, yellow flashing eyes tracking their movements cautiously.

After the men had left, Mel had tried to coax him out. There was something strained and sad in her voice and the child in Hamish had yearned to go out and comfort the nice woman with her soft, sea-foam green eyes. Dexter had lost his patience and snapped at Hamish, the eight year old responding with sharp yips and scared yelps.

After a while of living with Mels' gentle patience and Dexters' sharp, scolding words, Hamish finally came around and started to act human again.

When asked by Mel if he wanted to stay with them, addressing him as Cassiel, his only response was;

'My name is Hamish, not Cassiel.'
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Hamish spent eight years under the care of his Foster Parents, Mel and Dexter. Together, they taught him how to be human again. Both in very different ways but both very effective.

Hamish learned about his species and that both Mel and Dexter were Shape-shifters. He also found out that when they were with him during his Re-birth, in the forms of a great, honey coloured stallion with a pale, silvery blonde mane and tail and sharp, hazel eyes that caught everything, and a large, red tinted harpie eagle with soft, sea-foam green eyes, they could control The Wolf and stop it from getting violent.

Mel taught him how to feel again and about emotions. She healed his wounds after each Full/New moon, even though Werewolves had an increased rate of healing themselves, and taught him as much as she could about the world around him.

Dexter taught him self control, how to take his emotions and repress them, especially complex and violent emotions that made him lose control quicker. Dexter answered all his questions on the Supernatural world and set out rules and guidelines to help Hamish live without being controlled by The Wolf.

Through this, Hamish went back to heal old scars and make himself blank and safe to the ones around him. He never asked about his past and his Foster Parents never told him even though he knew they had the whole story of his life before The Wolf. He felt some things were best left forgotten. Not to mention that whenever he tried to remember, he would be rewarded with burning, splitting pain in his skull that rivaled his Re-Births.

Hamish could never understand the burning hate and resentment he felt towards his first name, Cassiel. It felt as though he was bitter to the name, as though someone had failed him. Driven with curiosity, he sought out the name and found it was actually the name of an angel, or more specifically, an archangel. Archangel Cassiel, known as the angel of temperance.

This led to him reading through the Bible, re-learning a religion he felt he already had a strong tie to. He found the stories of angels would make his emotions go haywire, cause a great pain and sorrow to ache in his chest. He would leave the religious readings for long periods at a time, unable to read through them all at once. It caused him too much pain for some unexplainable reason.

Hamish eventually re-discovered his faith in religion and choose to forgive the archangel, Cassiel. In a way, he was also forgiving himself. He told Dexter and Mel that if they wished to, they may call him Cassiel. He still referred to himself as Hamish and still gets touchy if anyone that is not close to him refers to him as Cassiel.

Hamish grew up with his Foster Parents very sheltered from the outside world. Being Shape-shifters, they could not legally marry or have children. They could however adopt a child as long as it was supernatural. Mel and Dexter never regret their choice of adopting the broken young Werewolf and love him as if he were their own. Hamish loves them due to their endless patience with him and willingness to put up with his 'sinful' presence.
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Dexter and Mel never told Hamish anything the doctors or police officers told them. Not about his awful turning, the aftermath of which is enough to make grown men cower and break down. Not about the brother he tried to save but couldn't stop The Wolf from ripping apart the frail, five year old mind or heal the infected thigh which pulsed poison around the small body until it festered holes in his already broken mind. Not of the first transformation, which the fractured five year old could never survive. Not of the raging Wolf that ripped apart the twisted body of a creature that was once his little brother.

Nor did they tell him of his first waking moments. Returning to consciousness in a mess of his brothers blood and flesh. His tender mind breaking down at the loss of another family member, the knowledge that he had ripped apart and devoured his brother. His mental health snapping as he screamed his grief and hate and hurled blame at the religious forces that were supposed to watch over them. Finally, his mind simply repressed the events, resetting itself to wipe out that terrible night.

They never told him of his family, his real family. They never told him that his mind was so broken, that when they had found the eight year old spitting up blood in the woods from screaming amongst the gore, that if he did remember his past life, the revelation may very well kill him.

And in return, Hamish never asks.

Name: Hachi
Your Age: 16
Other Characters:

None.

Contact Information:

[e-mail]

How you found us:

Through friend, Vet (Crispin.)

Sample Post:

"Hamish."

The adolescent in question blinked slowly, cerulean blue eyes sliding back into focus. Dexter was watching him with an air of limited patience, ashy grey eyes narrowed slightly. Hamish slowly canted his head to the right to observe the elder with a pensive frown.

". . .I apologize Dexter, I appear to have entirely missed your last statement. May you repeat yourself?"

Dexter responded with an impatient huff, shifting slightly on his feet and tossing back his head. The artificial light from the lamp caught his dull grey/white bangs as he did so, causing them to flash egg white briefly.

"I said, tonight you should be alone. To prepare yourself for the nights you'll have ahead of you. Without us."

Dexter watched him impassively with sharp eyes that tracked his every move. Hamish responded in turn with a deeper frown, eyes glinting cautiously. They had already discussed this subject but he still had to ask. Perhaps they had changed their mind.

"Alone? I do not believe that is a wise choice. But I assume you are still sending me away?"

"We aren't sending you away, Hamish."

A soft voice cut in as Dexter opened his mouth to respond, ash grey eyes rolling slightly at the interruption. They both cast their gazes to the plush armchair at the far end of the room, soft pale flecked grey eyes watching them both fondly. There was a certain sorrow lurking in the flecked depths.

"Melanie, we have been over this a dozen times now. I will not have this discussion yet again. Hamish, you are going to Cry Wolf High, no matter how much you protest. So you may as well stop digging your heels in and start going along with what I say."

Dexter huffed, turning back to lock gazes with Hamish. Mel sunk back with a soft sight, raising a fine boned hand to push away her coal hued bangs.

Hamish blinked, narrowing his gaze as he felt irritation burn below his chest. The Wolf stirred slightly in his mind, shoving at his mental shields with a snarl. He felt the wolf peer through his eyes, taking Dexters' eye contact as a challenge. A growl managed to rip across Hamish's throat, pushing past his clenched teeth wrathfully.

"Cassiel!"

Dexter snapped at him, causing The Wolf to startle back with a snarl. Hamish quickly raised his mental walls, locking out The Wolf who raged against the back of his mind. He blinked a few times to steady himself, feeling the Wolfs' searing rage rip across his body, set fire to his stomach and heat his skull until he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"Control yourself, I've taught you better than this."

Dexter had taken a few steps forward, standing stiffly a few feet in front of him. Hamish let out a ragged breath and straightened himself, forcing the Wolfs' rage away from himself. He loathed The Wolf, the approaching Full Moon had made him restless.

Hamish leveled his gaze carefully, feeling shame burn away his remaining irritation. He rolled his shoulder slightly, feeling it buzz painfully as though the bones had been replaced with broken glass. He used the familiar pain to ground himself before sighing out softly.

"Father forgive me, for I have sinned."

He then looked back to Dexter, gaze blank again.

"I apologize, Dexter. There is no excuse for my behavior. I just do not quite understand why I must go to 'School', as you call it."

"To get an education, Dear. I know you enjoy learning new things, this is a place dedicated to teaching young people such as yourself. And there will be supernatural children. They will understand your situation."

Mel answered softly, smiling at Hamish in reassurance. Hamish regarded her quietly, expression remaining pensive.

"I understand that and I would very much like to learn more about the world. I am just anxious of being around so many new people, you said there would be Humans there as well? They are prey to The Wolf, what if I can't control him? Dexter also mentioned I would be finishing 'school' when I am eighteen."

Hamish said pointedly, switching his gaze back to Dexter quietly. Dexter glanced away, shoulders dropping slightly with a silent sigh. Mel also shrunk back, over-bright eyes going to the floor.

They never mentioned it but they all knew. Werewolves had very short life-spans, stressful lives breaking down their bodies quicker than any other breed. Most were lucky to reach their mid-twenties and those turned young had even less than that. They never spoke about it but the silver hairs dusting through Hamish's messy, raven hair spoke enough for all of them.

The room was quiet for a long moment, the clocks' ticking life away the only sound between them. Hamish felt his arm buzz with pain and briefly prayed that Dexter and Mel would forgive him for his short words and what he presumed would be yellow flashing eyes, he would never know this close to a Full moon as the lyconthrope dissease leeched away the colour from his vision. They deserved no punishment for what they did.

Hamish winced slightly, feeling his bones creak beneath muscle and flesh. His teeth ground together of their own will and he felt The Wolf thrash further against his mental restraints.

". . .Dexter. . ."

Hamish breathed, feeling his heart rate pick up and a sudden, knife hot pain in his kidneys. Dexter jerked out of his thoughts and blinked at Hamish. He then cursed vibrantly and strode forward, gripping Hamish by his left shoulder.

"That was close to blasphemy."

Hamish admonished with a reproachful frown, Dexter scowling at him impatiently. Mel gave a strained chuckle as she glided over to open the heavy door which lead to the basement.

"Just shut up and come on. We haven't got much time left, can't believe I let time get away from me like that."

Dexter hissed, mostly to himself. He pulled Hamish down the concrete stairs and into the dank, short tunnel which led to the basement. The Wolf was howling in the back of his mind now, ramming itself against his mental walls with a frenzied impatience. As Dexter unlocked the heavy, steel enforced door to the cellar, The Wolf writhed wrathfully.

The cellar was a wide, long room which was made of wet stonework and was about twelve feet under ground. The stone was scattered with thick claw marks and his monochrome vision managed to pick out spatters of black blood here and there. The whole place had a heavy, sharp scent of metallic blood and thick animal musk.

Hamish hesitated by the door, canine senses screaming at the scent of Mistletoe. Dexter gave him a light shove into the windowless room. Claustrophobia was already sinking in.

Mel swept forward and gave him a quick hug.

"Good luck, Dear. We'll be right here if you need us."

Dexter was checking around the room hurriedly, studiously looking away from Hamish and his mate. Hamish hurried his head briefly in the crook of Mels' neck before pulling away, hissing as his joints began to grind together.

"Don't come in. No matter what. I must do this alone."

He said fiercely, staring intently at Mel who gave a slight sniff and a jerky nod before his blue orbs turned to Dexter, who had paused behind him. Dexter stared at him hard before giving a sharp nod. His hand twitched, as though he wanted to reach out to Hamish before thinking better of it.

". . .May God be with you."

Dexter murmured, striding forward and grasping Mel tightly, pulling her from the room with ease. Hamish managed a light, ghosting smile at the words. He knew neither of his Foster Parents were religious but they were still willing to have faith enough to pray for him. He didn't ruin the moment by telling them that God would never be with him. Not for a long time, well after he had repented for his heinous sins.

"May The Lord watch over us all."

He answered quietly, staring at the pair as Dexter pulled the heavy door shut. It clanged hollowly into place, clunking dully as it was locked. Hamish backed away from it with a harsh growl, leering at its' mistletoe stained surface.

Hamish stripped down quickly, pale skin pricking with Goosebumps as it was exposed to the cold air. He stooped down and dragged out a lose brick, shoving his clothes within the large gap so The Wolf wouldn't shred them. He muttered a soft prayer under his breath as he did so.

"Angelic Forces
Come into my body
Give me strength, guidance and protection
And please God,
Light my path with your Holy Spirit,-"

Hamish straightened himself, thin form trembling from the effort needed to keep himself upright. The Wolf was ripping down his walls now, snarling and snapping with poisonous wrath. He swallowed thickly, throat painfully tight, and rasped on.

"And in the name of The Father,
Cancel all negative thoughts and actions
that are being directed to me,
and eliminate the enemies power
to do any evil to me.-"

He paused cautiously, tremors making him clench and unclench his clammy hands. His heart was accelerating painfully, bones rattling against one another. Hamish cleared his raw throat and continued.

"So shall it be.-"

His words were cut off by a pained choke. His insides were squirming, rolling and burning within his body. He let out a pained yell, knees buckling under him and palms biting into the wet floor.

His Re-Birth had begun. The painful process would rip apart his body and then force it into an entirely foreign form. First, his major organs would shut off. As he gasped on the ground, breathless with agony, he was suffering liver failure, kidney failure and a major heart attack. His whole body was shutting itself down in preparation for the changes it would be forced through.

Blood bubbled in his throat as his lungs hemorrhaged. He spat out more of the prayer harshly.

"In The Lords' name I pray,
who lives and reigns with the Holy Spirit-"

This time he did break off with a scream. The hands were the first to change, he howled in agony as his knuckles split and dislocated, the ends of his fingers erupting as the bones of his fingers split through them. They began to curve and lengthen, pain setting every nerve on fire. He felt his ribs splinter and diffuse from one another, expanding painfully beneath his flesh as his heart began to deform and pulse into a larger form. The muscle shoved against his rib cage, forcing the bones to buckle out.

The pain is excruciating.

The muscles that hold his bones together begin to fester and deteriorate, skin ripping away to leave exposed muscles and bursting arteries. He collapsed onto his side and writhed as his jaw exploded, dislocating as his skull split almost in half and caved in. Canine fangs explode from his gums, ripping apart what is left of his bleeding mouth.

No one can go through such a metamorphosis without screaming until they cough up blood. His screaming does eventually stop but not because the pain lessens, but because his vocal cords are ripped apart as the skull lengthens in shape.

Finally, the brain shuts down.

The next time Hamish awakens, it is The Wolf who is in control. The Wolf howls out its' rage at being caged up, about being alone and hungry. It rams into the door, snarling and shaking its head woozily as mistletoe attacks its senses.

It smells the Humans. It knows they are there. And it is starving.

The Wolf smells blood. Its' own blood. It looks to its legs and sees the pulsing veins that conceal life giving blood.

It rips into its' own flesh with a maddened hunger.

The prayer was left unfinished.

Attachments:

congratulations, mister sabel. after going over your transcript, and deciding how well you'd fit in here at Cry Wolf High, we have decided to accept your request to join us! please go take the time to go to the directory, and the sign ups to complete your enrollment. once done, head over to the office, and complete your schedule here! thank you!

School Enrollment Administration