Shortly after the disaster with Ruth and Daniel, each of the Monkees noticed something that troubled them. Each of them noticed themselves pulling away from friends and family and being shy at meeting new people.
Finally, Mike called a meeting. “This is no good,” he announced. “Every one of us is runnin’ scared.”
“Mike,” Davy put in, “what we’ve become --- it puts people in danger!”
“As does who we’ve befriended,” Peter said. But his chin rose as he said it and one hand gripped MacLaren’s wrist.
Micky snorted. “Well, tough. Mike’s right. Look, just walking down the street can put a person in danger. Are we gonna hole up in our homes forever?”
MacLaren nodded. “Aye, you boys need your friends. You don’t need to be running the way I see y’doing.”
Ruth looked at him. “Does that mean we’re---“
He slid an arm around her shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“That’s right,” Mike said firmly. “We’ve become family. And family stays together.”
Micky stood up. “If that’s settled, I’m late!”
“For what?” Davy asked.
“I’m takin’ Alex and his mom to the movies!” Micky grinned and headed out.
Davy frowned. “Alex?”
“His friend – lives down the block,” Peter put in as he stood. “His dad’s been sick for a while, so Micky’s been helpin’ them out with meals and company.”
“I’ve seen the boy,” MacLaren smiled. “He’s a fine young man.”
Micky arrived at Alex’s house and knocked on the door. After a moment, the eighteen-year-old opened it and smiled at Micky. “Hi!”
“Hi, Alex! You two ready to go?”
“I’m ready,” Alex sighed, his smile fading. “We had unexpected company show, and Mama has to stay.”
“Do you want to stay? I mean if I’m interrupting…”
Alex waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. I don’t like them anyway. They’re weird.” His head tilted. “Well, so am I, but I’m friendly weird….”
“And they’re a scary weird?” Micky guessed. At Alex’s nod, Micky ruffled his hair. “You’re not weird, Alex. Stop puttin’ yourself down.”
As they walked to the car, Alex said under his breath, “Ain’t puttin’ myself down. Just a statement of fact.”
Micky caught it. “Statement or not, the fact is, I don’t think you’re weird at all!”
Alex shot Micky a grateful smile as they got into the car. When the roar of the engine masked his words, he turned toward the window and sighed, “Ah, Micky… if only you knew…”
After the movie, Micky noticed Alex was quiet and slightly withdrawn. “Hey,” he nudged the boy’s arm slightly. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to go home,” Alex sighed.
“Those unexpected guests really rattled you, huh?” Alex nodded and Micky smiled. “My house is on the way to yours – if we go the other way – so why don’t we go there and you cal home?”
Alex’s face lit up and his smile warmed Micky. “Sounds like a plan to me!”
Micky laughed. “Yeah, full moon tends to bring the oddballs out. They must be gettin’ an early start, though – full moon’s not till tomorrow!”
“I know,” Alex said. “S’why I wanted to come tonight.”
“That’s right, you always hole up on the full moon.” Micky grinned at him. “And one of these days I’m gonna find out why!”
Alex shot him a wicked grin back. “Not if I can help it!”
They both laughed, and Micky focused on the road again. He didn’t see that the humour did not reach his young friend’s eyes.
Peter frowned as he weaved into the kitchen and poured himself some orange juice. A quick nap had yielded a vision that he wasn’t sure he understood.
He knew it was a vision instead of a dream because he’d woken in the throes of a hypoglycemic attack.
He sat at the table, trying to puzzle the vision out. He was so deep in thought he was unaware he was no longer alone in the kitchen.
So when the tuna salad sandwich and leftover devilled eggs from the refrigerator were slid in front of him, Peter gave a start and a yelp.
“Sorry, lad,” MacLaren chuckled, cluing Peter in as to which double it was. Davy – being younger than Peter – could not call him ‘lad’ as the four-hundred-year-old vampyre could. MacLaren put down a salad and a cold glass of milk for Peter, then took his own glass of animal blood and sat down across from him. “Care to share it?”
Peter sighed. “It was one of the strangest visions I’ve ever had! I can’t make heads nor tails out of it!”
“Tell it to me, then.”
Peter took a deep breath. “It was… us. The six of us – and Alex. And a second Mike, towering over us and laughing. And over it all, there was the howl of a great wolf.”
MacLaren’s eyes widened and he whistled. “That is a strange one! No idea what it means?”
“None yet. I was hoping you guys could help me figure it out.”
Before MacLaren could reply, Micky and Alex walked in. “Phone’s over there,” Micky pointed.
Alex grinned and moved to it.
“Hi, Micky,” Peter said as Micky came over to give Alex some privacy. “Something wrong?”
“Not sure,” Micky replied with a slight frown. “There might be.”
Peter slid half his tuna salad sandwich to Micky and prompted, “Tell us about it.”
Micky slid the sandwich back to him. It’s Alex. I’m concerned about him.” He glanced over to where the teen was talking quietly to his mother. “They had some unexpected guests that rattled the hell out of him.”
Frowning as he lifted the last bite to his lips, Peter paused long enough to ask, “Any idea who they were?”
“None,” Micky said. “I’ve never seen them before. Now – suppose you tell me about your vision?”
Startled, Peter swallowed the last of his milk before asking, “How did you know I had a vision?”
“Simple – it’s nearly eleven at night and you’re eating a high-protein meal. Which leads me to suspect you’ve had a sugar drop – and you only have those after a vision.” Micky smiled at him.
Despite the situation, Peter smiled. “All right, Sherlock Dolenz – I did have a vision.” He went on to detail it.
When he was done, Micky frowned. “Huh. That is odd.” His eyes narrowed. “A wolf, huh?”
“Yes, a great wolf, larger than any I’ve ever seen. It almost walked on two legs.”
“Which of us did you say it was hovering over?”
“I didn’t.” Peter tilted his head, thinking. “It didn’t seem to hover over anyone – it’s just the howling lasted and lasted…. Closer to Alex than any of us.”
Micky nodded. He stood and headed to where Alex was just hanging up. “Aw,” Micky groused. “I wanted you to ask your mom if you could stay the weekend.”
Alex’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “NO!” he roared. Then he licked his lips and shook his head. “I-I can’t, Micky Especially not tomorrow night. I’ve got…plans.”
“Plans,” Micky nodded. “On the night of the full moon – as always. Fair enough.”
Alex nodded, smiling.
“Just answer me one question, Alex.”
Micky crossed his arms and fixed Alex with a glare that would have been more at home on Mike’s face. “Alex—how long have you been a werewolf?”
Alex looked stunned at Micky’s question. For a moment, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open.
Then he started laughing. “A-A werewolf? Oh… oh, that’s priceless!”
Micky tilted his head. “Well, then,” he said evenly, “it’s a good thing we’re not asking you to buy it, then, isn’t it?”
Thrown, Alex stopped laughing. He raised a hand and pointed at MacLaren.
Nobody missed the fact that hand was trembling wildly.
“C-Come on, Micky!” Alex stammered out. “I’m no more a werewolf than he is a…a…a vampyre!”
The words were intended to make Micky see what a ludicrous thing he was proposing. Instead, eyes widened all around the room.
“Looks like you were right, Micky,” MacLaren said grimly. “We’ve a young, untrained werewolf on our hands.”
Alex felt his jaw hang open again. He felt his arm fall to his side, where it hung limply for a long moment. Then he heard his own voice croak out, “Uh…untrained? What… what do you mean ‘untrained’?”
“I mean you’re still hiding. You’re still cringing from what you are. Are you a Bitten or a Born?”
Smiling a genuine smile for the first time since Micky’s question, Alex replied, “Born. My mom is a Bitten, though.”
Micky nodded. “Could that be why you had those guests?”
At the mention of his scary guests, Alex’s smile vanished and he shuddered. “I hope not. I didn’t like them at all.”
The front door opened at that moment and a groceries-laden missing pair walked in. Mike and Davy moved to the kitchen, then – while Davy put the groceries away – Mike moved to the living room, smiling. “Hi, guys – who’s this?”
Micky smiled. “This is Alex. Alex, this is –“ He blinked. “Alex, what’s wrong?”
“YOU!” Alex had gone milk-white. He held out a trembling hand toward Mike. “How—How did you find me here? Stay away from me!”
Mike was no longer smiling. “Okay, I don’t need to use my Gift to tell he’s absolutely terrified. What’s goin’ on here?”
Peter shook his head. “He was fine till you walked in the room.”
“It’s almost like he knows you,” Micky mused, addressing Mike but looking at Alex. “And is scared to death of you!”
“But why?” Mike asked, frowning. “We’ve never even met!”
“Yes we have!” Alex bellowed. “Don’t you dare deny it – you were at my house tonight!”
“I was what?” Mike gasped, “Kid, I never even met you before just now! How could I have been at your house?”
“Not to mention we’ve been running errands all evening and night,” Davy spoke up. “He’s been with me the entire time!”
Alex shook his head and jabbed a finger at Mike. “You were there! I saw you. But… but you looked more… more…”
“Like this?” MacLaren asked. He walked beside Mike and reddened his own wide brown eyes. He opened his mouth to reveal half-dropped fangs. “Halfway in between human and vamp?” he hissed.
At Alex’s nod, MacLaren shifted his features back to fully human. He growled out a string of curses, ending with the words, “Andrew. It has to be Andrew!”
“Who’s that?” Mike asked.
“The one who Sired me,” MacLaren snarled. His eyes – red with anger – turned to Mike. “Your exact double – if he’s altered his hair – save for his accent. He’d had a family before he was Turned. I’d be surprised if you’re not his direct descendant.”
Mike shook his head, letting out a low whistle. Then he snapped his fingers and turned to Micky. “This is a real stupid question for you, I know – but remember when Daniel decked me cause you two thought you’d seen me menacin’ you with a car?”
Micky snickered. “Yes, I remember.” The situation wasn’t funny, but the question was. “As if I can forget anything.”
“Huh?” Alex frowned.
Micky waved a hand. “I’ll explain later.” Then he turned back to Mike. “Are you suggesting that he’s--?”
“He’d have to be an Eosian vampyre for that!” Davy gasped.
“He is,” MacLaren growled. “When I was still enthralled, I envied that ability to be in sunlight. I wanted to be one so badly….”
“Is there any chance you will be enthralled again?” Peter asked grimly.
MacLaren smiled and rubbed the blond’s arm. “No, Daddy Peter. I know Andrew. His lies don’t affect me anymore.”
Peter chuckled. “All right… all right. I just worry about all of you.”
“A good father never loses his instincts,” Mike chuckled, remembering and making Peter blush.
Alex frowned at Mike. “So…it wasn’t you?”
“No. It wasn’t me,” Mike smiled. “I’m one of the white hats.”
Alex smiled slightly at that.
So did Micky. It was a start, at least.
Suddenly Micky’s face darkened. “Alex --- your mother!”
Alex’s eyes widened and he bolted for the front door, with the Monkees, MacLaren and Ruth right behind. By the time he reached the bottom of the front stairs, the advantage of being a Born werewolf instead of a Bitten could clearly be seen.
The full moon was not for one more night, but the feet that hit the sidewalk were the four paws of a sleek grey wolf.
His friends didn’t even pause as they raced behind him – slightly slower on their two clumsy legs. There would be time to admire this skill later.
The wolf shifted back to Alex and fished in the pocket of his jacket for his key. Micky smiled a tight smile, filing away the information that Alex’s clothes didn’t burst away when he shifted, but seemed absorbed into his skin.
Alex unlocked the door and raced into the house, hollering for his parents. Micky and MacLaren made it inside before the door slammed. Chuckling softly at the humour in the tense situation, Micky opened the door.
The others came inside, Mike rubbing his nose. “Oh, stop,” Peter chuckled. “It didn’t hit you!”
“Came close,” Mike groused, but subsided.
A beautiful woman came out and blinked at them. “Micky? Alex, what—“ She saw Mike and her eyes widened as her face paled. “What do you want?”
“It’s not him,” Alex said, laying a hand on her arm. “It’s Micky’s roommate Mike.”
“You look…” she gasped.
“What did he want?” Mike asked.
Slowly, the woman nodded. “Your accent’s different. All right – he told us to remember the Alliance and remember whose side we are supposed to be on.”
MacLaren growled. “This doesn’t sound good.” At the Monkees’ and Alex’s confused looks, he explained, “When I was first Turned—“
“And I,” Ruth said softly.
MacLaren nodded and opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a shriek from Alex’s mother.
“Alex! You brought Their Kind into our house? By choice?”
Alex shook his head. “Mama, they’re not like Mister Andrew. They’re good people. They won’t harm us. Only those two are vamp—right?”
Davy nodded. “The four of us are as human as they come, ma’am.”
Micky’s eyes widened as he heard the soft, “Yes, keep thinking that,” from MacLaren. He made a note to demand answers later.
Peter stepped forward. “We only want to help, ma’am.”
She barked a laugh. “Humans. Humans – wanting to help werewolves… with vampyres beside them!” She laughed and ran a hand along her forehead.
“Yes,” MacLaren stepped forward. “We do want to help.”
“Why?” she snarled. “When Andrew made it plain that it was your people who sickened my husband?”
“May I see him?” Ruth asked. At the woman’s scowl, she added, “I am a healer. If a vampyre made him ill, I can cure him.”
The woman paused, searching their faces. “She can,” MacLaren said with a nod. “Without harming him.”
“Listen to him, Emily,” Micky said. “We’ve known him for years – known what he is for years – he’s never harmed us.”
Emily looked from one face to another – gauging. At last, she nodded and turned to Ruth. “This way.”
Once they were out of the room, MacLaren looked at his friends. “You need to know what’s going on before you can choose to play this game—“
“Used sarcastically,” Alex snorted.
MacLaren smiled at him. “Used sarcastically,” he agreed, then finished, “or whether to sit out.” He waited till they were all comfortable sitting, standing and – in Mike’s case – leaning, then turned a kitchen chair around and straddled it.
“The best way to do that is to start at the beginning,” MacLaren said. “And to do that – you need to know about the Alliance.”
“Emily mentioned an Alliance,” Micky nodded.
“When I was first Turned, there was a war going on,” MacLaren began. “A civil war in the vampyre ranks. The group that eventually was led by Andrew formed an Alliance with the werewolves.”
“Supernatural power augmented with supernatural power,” Ruth spoke up as she re-entered the room. “Peter and I were turned at the same time, as was our ten-year-old daughter.” At MacLaren’s opening mouth, she held up a hand. “I don’t care what you go by now. You were my husband once. You shall always be Peter to me.”
MacLaren closed his mouth and shook his head fondly. “Our son grew up waiting for the day he would be Turned and join the war.”
“You never mentioned a daughter,” Peter said softly. His fists were clenched – the pain of his own wife and child’s deaths rearing up again.
Without a word, Mike lay a hand over one of those fists. It would remain there till the hand relaxed, turned over, and squeezed it -- Peter’s ‘thanks-I’m-okay-now’ sign.
“I know,” MacLaren sighed. “She was destroyed by humans a year later.”
“It was an accident,” Ruth put in. “The woman was deaf and didn’t realise the dawn would be deadly.”
“Still,” MacLaren shook his head. “The Shakharii began to attack soon after. We brought our son over when he was grown, and we fought side-by-side with Andrew.”
“Until things started…changing,” Ruth said, twisting her hands.
“How?” Mike asked, smiling gently as he finally felt the squeeze he’d been waiting for. He squeezed back and dropped Peter’s hand.
“Things turned ugly,” Emily said as she walked back into the room. “My family says the vampyres spilled the war into the human world The Alliance crumbled and the humans turned on werewolves as well as all vampyres.”
“Your family history is accurate,” MacLaren said. “I left Andrew when I sickened of the mindless killing.”
“I followed a decade later,” Ruth said. “Emily, did the herbs—“
“He’s much better,” she sighed. “Thank you. I can’t believe that man. Or you.”
“Us?” Micky asked.
“You’re normal humans – yet you know what we are. And you act like it doesn’t matter! Why?”
“It’s the right thing to do,” Peter said matter-of-factly.
They were quite alarmed when Emily stared incredulously at him – then burst into uncontrollable tears. As they all approached the sobbing woman, Emily held up a hand. “I…I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“For what?” Micky asked. “We don’t understand.”
Emily sniffled and wiped her eyes as she stuttered out, “The r-right thing…. We’ve… always hid… because the right thing usually leads to our death!”
Alex smiled. “And now here they are – saying the right thing to do is accept us. Love us. Not to fear us. I told you they were something special, Mom.”
“I believe you,” she sniffled. “I finally believe.”
The full moon was the next night. Emily’s husband Jacob was feeling much better, so the entire family came to the Pad after dark.
Jacob smiled as he watched the two large wolves that were his wife and son’s other forms frolic on the beach in the moonlight. Mike, Davy, Ruth and MacLaren were out there as well.
The doubles and Ruth were playing ‘keep-away’ with Frisbees and beach balls with the wolves to the accompaniment of Mike’s guitar.
Jacob turned to Micky. “You’re a good friend to my Alex, Mister….sorry. Micky.”
Micky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, I try to be.”
“So … how come you’re not out there playing?”
After a long moment, Micky shrugged. “You’re still not well enough to frolic. Peter’s crashed in his bed, and… well, I’m still bugged about somethin’ I overheard, is all. I’ll be okay.”
Jacob frowned. “Anything I can do to help?”
This time the smile did reach Micky’s eyes. “Not unless you can pull information from a recalcitrant vampyre.”
A low whistle was Jacob’s reply. “Easier said than done, that one is.”
“I know. Like I said—“ Whatever Micky was going to say was lost forever under an anguished cry from the bedroom.
Micky and Jacob bolted there. Peter was sitting up in bed, gasping. One look at his eyes, and Micky ordered, “Jacob, go to the kitchen and fill one of the glasses in the right=-hand cabinet over the sink with orange juice. And get one of the hard-boiled eggs in the fridge – bring them here!” Jacob scrambled to obey, and Micky sat on the edge of Peter’s bed. “A vision?”
Peter nodded, his eyes focusing – with difficulty – on Micky. “….bad….one.”
“Can you remember it?”
Once more, Peter nodded. “It….Andrew. He’s….He’s coming.” His exhausted eyes met Micky’s, and a grim note flashed between them as Peter finished:
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