The Brotherhood

by LoveBear

Through fog-wrapped underbrush I ran, feeling the cool mist through my fur, the damp earth beneath the pads of my paws. Moonbeams danced among the trees and my mate and I playfully chased each other through broken shadows, reveling in the sheer delight of movement, of all the night's intimate caresses. My mate leapt at me and I made no attempt to dodge, letting him knock me over. We growled our laughter and our tongues met, kissing each other happily. I saw the gleam in his eye and I rolled onto my stomach, spreading my hindlegs, growling softly and looking back. I heard his amused chuckle, and then with one bound he was on top of me and in me, and I could feel his teeth on my neck and the sweet pain of his passion moving through me and I howled my lust and my love and my life to the ever-watchful eye above and

I snapped awake, feeling the hot stickiness against my thigh, followed by the blaze of shame as I realised that the dream had come again. I could feel my heart pounding with adrenalin and excitement, only slowly returning to normal. Almost every night now, the same lust-filled nightmare that refused to let me be. My eyes instinctively sought the crucifix that hung on my wall and I again wondered if I was being tested as Job was, or if I was indeed in the tainted claws of some fell spawn. As my eyes left Our Lord and Master, they fell upon the clock. 12:24am, Sunday. Not only were the dreams getting more vivid, but they were coming sooner after sleep each night. I threw back the covers, and the second horror of the night greeted me.

Next to me, on either side, where my hands had been, were five quite blatant claw-marks in the foam mattress. I looked at my hands, and on the tips of my fingers I could see little curls of foam and cloth still clinging, as though unwilling to hide the traces of my deeds. To add to my shock and disgust, my pajamas showed signs of struggle, as though in my sleep I had tried to tear them off. The sleeves were torn slightly, and one of the buttons had come off. A dark stain near my crotch completed my horrific of my appearance. I nearly throttled myself, then tripped myself, trying to throw my soiled pajamas aside.

As I stood in the shower, trying to scrub away my sins with hot water and strong soap, I thought about what happened. For the past year now, the visions have been getting worse. They had started with just fleeting impressions, half-recalled dreams of moonlight and promises. But slowly, almost without notice, they began to expand. My memories of the events that happened behind closed eyes began to slowly grow, to my shame and embarassment. Tonight, however, marked the worst of the lot. Even with full wakefulness, I could recall the details of that nightmare world with total clarity. I had to do something.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself with a thick white terrycloth towel, and then wrapped it around myself, walking from the bathroom to my closet, wherein I kept my scourge. My father had given it to me when I was 12, instructing me in the ways of its use. Rarely have I felt its reprimand; I've always to be a good child, respectful of my elders and always true to the teachings of the Lord. But maybe it was the sparing of the rod and the spoiling of the child that had allowed whatever demonic touch to corrupt me. Dropping the towel only long enough to pull on a pair of rough burlap shorts I had for just this reason, I tied the rope around my waist, cinched it tight, and then retrieved the scourge from its place on the wall and returned to my room.

Kneeling before the crucifix in my room, and whispered the opening words of the confession. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." I swung the scourge over my shoulder, biting my bottom lip as the lashes burned my back and the tiny metal barbs bit into my skin. I punctuated every sentence with a swing of the scourge at my back, hoping to drive whatever demon held me in its sway out by the pain and prayer. "For a year now, I have dreamt horrid things." *CRACK* "I dream that I have turned into an animal, and play in the moonlight as an unthinking beast." *CRACK* "I pray to You every night, my Lord, but still these dreams come." *CRACK* "I know that this is your test for me, to see the strength of my soul." *CRACK* "Let me show you how willing I am to suffer in Your holy name, my Lord and Master. *CRACK* Twenty times, I brought the lash down on my back, ten over each shoulder. By the fifteenth, tears were running down my cheeks. On the twentieth, the scourge slipped from my pain-riddled fingers. I lay on the floor beneath the crucifix, and cried myself to unconsciousness.

I awoke at a touch on my shoulder, my father leaning over me, dressed for church. "Son, are you alright?"

I looked up at him, trying to meet his gaze. "Fine, sir. I'll be ready to go in 15 minutes. I must've fallen asleep."

My father looked at me strangely, but said nothing. Did he know? Did he suspect? "Your mother, Jacob and I are ready. We'll be waiting." Then he stepped out of my room and closed the door.

I shook my head to clear the last of the sleep from my body, and winced as the scabs from last nights absolution made themselves known, joining the few remaining ones from the last time I had felt the need to purify my body to try to cleanse it of the evils that infested it. Quickly, I ran a comb through my short hair, wishing that I were old enough for the Brotherhood to accept me as a member. Jacob, my older brother, had joined at 16, the youngest age they would allow. In another year, I would be old enough to enter the ranks of the Slaves to the Lord. I feared, however, that they would not take me. I prayed to God as I dressed, hoping that he would cure the evils that had inflicted themselves upon me.

The trip to the church was uneventful. My father drove, my mother rode in silence, and my brother Jacob and I whispered to each other in the back seat. I asked him to show me the markings with which the Brotherhood had blessed him. He smiled and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, showing me the tattoo on his shoulder, the straight cross of God's Love entwined with the crooked cross of His Purity. He told me of the great works that the Brotherhood envisioned, of ending the plague of demons hiding in the bodies of men. Of purifying the human race so that God would let all of mankind into the gates of Eden. He told me how proud he was to be a part of such a movement. I envied him, and told him that I wanted to join. He smiled and said I only had a year to wait, and that I could be a member then. He asked our father, "Isn't that right, sir?" But Father didn't answer. He simply sat, and drove in silence.

All through the church ceremony, I tried to concentrate on the sermon, but my mind kept drifting back to the events of the night. I felt all eyes upon me when I failed to rise in time for the closing hymn. I knew they knew. Or at least suspected. But what to do? I wanted so much for this all to go away. For things to be as they were a year ago. I threw all my heart and soul into the hymn, begging God for release.

After the ceremony, I stood with my brother, while our parents talked with the pastor. After a few minutes, the three of them aproached me. Father spoke. "Jacob, here are the keys. Please wait in the car. Joseph, follow us." He, Mother, and the pastor then walked to the back of the church, to the pastor's office. I swallowed hard and followed my parents.

The pastor opened his office and sat behind his desk. My parents sat behind me, one on either side, while I stood in the middle of them all. For a moment, no one spoke. Then the pastor asked me, "Joseph, your father tells me that you've been having nightmares?"

I swallowed again, my mouth dry. "Just a few bad dreams, sir. Nothing that won't pass."

The pastor frowned. "Joseph, lying is one of the cardinal sins. He tells me that almost once a week now for the past three months. Your father found you passed out in the floor, your back bleeding from your scourge. While I admire such endurance in one so young, there is obviously some sin that the prayer and the flagellation have not absolved. Please tell me about it."

I tried to swallow, but there was nothing in my mouth to ease the cracking of my throat. "Sir.. I think I may be possessed."

Behind me, I could hear my mother whisper, "No.." I knew my father was staring at me. The pastor looked unmoved. "Continue."

"The dreams, sir. It's the same nightmare every night. I'm running through a forest at night. I'm not.. I'm not human." The pastor's eyes narrowed. "And I'm not alone. There is another with me, a wolf. We howl and run, and.." I hung my head in shame, tears rolling down my face. "We mate. I woke up this last night, and--"

The pastor cut me off. "This is a matter beyond my ability to control. It may be that you have some spiritual cleansing to do, but it may be that you are, indeed, touched. Fortunately, where my abilities to find sin leave off, modern medicine is not far behind." He wrote something on a piece of paper, and turned to my father. "The government has a federal testing facility in Dallas. Here is the address, and directions. The test takes about three weeks to come back, and I will do some investigation for you until then." He smiled at me. "Have faith in the Almighty, child. This may just be a case of an overactive imagination fueled by childhood hormones." With that, my father escorted us out to the car and drove home.

My brother got out of the car, and I started to follow, but father said, "No, Joseph. Stay in your seat. Suzanne, go ahead and stay here. We'll be back in about three hours." My mother got out of the car, and shut the door. Dad set the automatic door lock, and suddenly I felt like a prisoner. Or a caged animal. The feeling made my cheeks red with shame. I sat in silence during the entire trip to Dallas, trying not to cry or shake from nervousness and fear.

There was no line at the testing center, so my father pulled me out of the car and escorted me inside. I tried not to look anyone in the eye. My father took me by the arm and led me up to the receptionist's desk.

The woman behind the desk didn't look up as we approached. "May I help you?" She sounded bored, almost relieved at having someone come into the office.

I stood there hoping my father would say nothing, but looking at him I knew there would be no backing down. "My son needs to be tested."

She picked up a clipboard, handed it to my father, and said, "Please fill this out and return it to me. After this, someone will be in to take care of him."

The form was a fairly standardised government form. Name. Sex. Age. Social Security Number. Date of birth. Height. Weight. Eyes. Hair. Distinguishing marks. Then the questions began to get unusual. Phenotype (if known). Forced Triggers. Partial Shift? Full Shift? The questions went from confusing to incomprehensible. After the first seven lines, my father put down the pen, walked back over to the desk and handed in the form. The secretary looked it over, then removed it from the clipboard and told my father, "Please have a seat, sir. Someone will be with your son shortly." There was nothing else for us to do, so we sat, not saying a word to each other. I couldn't meet his eyes, and he refused to look at me, as though it were my fault he had to be here.

After about 15 minutes, a man in a white lab coat came out of the back and said, "Joseph Carter?" He walked over to me and my father. He held out his hand to my father, who sat unmoving. The man started to say something to him, then turned to me and said, "You must be Joseph. I'm Dr. Randall. Please, come this way. Would your father like to join us?"

I shook my head and said softly, "I don't think he wants to be here at all. Neither do I, but I have to know if I'm one of.." I stopped, unsure of the word.

Dr. Randall smiled. "The technical term would be a therianthrope. Medically, you'd be homo sapiens bestus. Publicly, you'd be a were." He shrugged. "But you might not be any of those." He motioned for me to follow him and I did so, my father still sitting there unmoving, not looking anywhere but forward. I felt sorry for him. I wished there were something I could say or do for him, to ease his mind. Silently I asked God to watch over my father, and to deliver us from this lion's den unharmed.

Dr. Randall led me to a small examination room, and asked me to climb up onto the doctor's table. It looked just like the patient's tables one might see at a doctor's office, except this one had cuffs of some kind at the head and foot, on either side. I tried not to think about what they were for, and prayed that this wouldn't take long. Dr. Randall asked me to remove my shirt and I did, setting it aside.

Dr. Randall stepped out of the room for a moment, and returned with a folder. "This is just your official visitation record, Joseph. The law requires that we keep a record of everyone that comes in, the results of their tests, other such things. Now, lets try to figure out where you are, shall we? Tell me about your shifting experiences, if you've had any."

My cheeks brightened with shame at the rememberence. "Last night, I had a very vivid dream about being.. something, I don't know what. When I woke up, my pajamas were damaged and there were clawmarks in my bed." I didn't think that the rest of that experience needed repeating.

He made a note in the folder. "Was this the first time you've had this dream?"

"No, sir."

"How long have you been having dreams of this kind?"

I thought for a moment, face reddening with the memories. "Almost a year now."

He made another note. "Was this the first time that you suspect you shifted in your sleep?"

"Yes, sir."

Another note. "Do you have any idea into what animal you turn?"

"No, sir."

Another note. "Well, I think that's about everything I can get without knowing what your wereside is. Time to figure that out."

I looked over and blanched. "What do you mean, 'what it is'? I'm not one of those beasts!"

He looked at me and frowned. "Those beasts? Be careful to whom you say that. Even if you're not one. Now hold still please; this will hurt bad enough without you twitching."

He stuck a needle into my elbow and withdrew a blood sample. Then he pulled out a really large needle and I started to hyperventilate. He set it and said, "Turn around please."

"What're you going to do with that?"

"I have to take a spinal fluid sample. This will hurt, but if you don't move, it won't be that bad."

I turned around and whispered a prayer to our Lord and Master. "All these things I endure in Your name, my Lord..." I felt something cold and wet rubbed on my back, and then a bright spark of agony as the needle pierced the skin. I yelped, but I didn't flinch until after the needle was withdrawn. Silently, I breathed a thank-you to our Lord, and turned back around. The doctor was putting the sample vials in an envelope along with the test data. "You can put your shirt back on now. We're done for this time. You should get a phone call in about two weeks telling you that the results are in. Please come by then and we can discuss what we know."

The doctor escorted me back out to the waiting room. My father stood up when he saw me walk out, but he wouldn't look at me. He didn't say a word to me. He nodded to the doctor, who said "We'll call you when we get results in." My father took me by the shoulder and steered me out to the car. I got into the back seat, feeling miserable. The whole drive home, my fther wouldn't speak to me. He just sat, driving as though he were alone in the car. Several times, I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't answer.

That night, after supper, I went to bed early. I didn't feel like eating; my stomach felt upset ever since I left the testing center. I lie back on my bed, staring at the crucifix on the opposite wall. Suddenly seized with a fit of rage, I jumped off of my bed and grabbed the wooden hanging and threw it onto the bed, screaming "Why? Why have you forsaken me? What did I do to deserve this?" I threw myself onto the bed next to the crucifix and began crying, holding my head in my hands, pouring out my anger and my fear and my shame into the tears and cries.

I couldn't've been that that long, because I was still crying when the door opened. My brother walked in, saying "Joseph, mother says that dinn.." his voice trailed off mid-word, and I looked up. He was staring at me unabashedly. His mouth hung open, stuck in mid-word. Then suddenly he screamed and leapt at me, knocking me off the bed and slamming me into the floor. I whimpered and said, "What was that for?"

Or at least, I tried to say that. The only sound that came out of my mouth was a peculiar barking growl. I snapped a paw to my muzzle, and then looked, horrified, at myself. As I feared, instead of a hand I had a paw attached to my arm -- now foreleg. I turned and looked behind me, startled to see the tail curled on the floor attached to me just above the buttocks. My fur, from what I could see of it, was dark grey, shading to white at the forepaws and chest. The change had come so quickly, and I had been so distracted, that I hadn't even noticed.

I was now a wolf.

About then, my brother landed on me again, and I whined and howled as he started to hit me, shouting for the demon that held me to come out. Without thinking, I snarled in pain and locked my jaw around his arm, gnawing down. He shrieked in pain and I let go, shocked and stunned. I ached all over from his fists, and I was having trouble breathing; he punched me in the throat. I whined and ran into the bathroom, trying to shove the door shut. I finally succeeded, and lay down in the floor, trying not to look at myself in the mirror, or even to think. I just cried and called out to God for deliverance from this wicked state.

I don't know how long I was in there, but after a time I felt a peculiar burning, itching sensation all over, and my senses went blurry for a few moments. When the feeling passed, I looked at myself and sighed my relief to see that I was human again. I whispered my thanks to our Lord and Master, and, wrapping a towel around myself, stepped back into my room. I hurt all over, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. I no longer cared that I was one of those accursed demonspawn. I just wanted to sleep and never awaken.

When I opened the bathroom door, my parents and brother were standing in my room. My father stood there, unmoving. My mother looked frightened, but was visibly fighting for composure. Jacob was staring at me with utter contempt. My mother wouldn't meet my gaze. No one spoke. I prayed for God to strike me down on the spot, that I could escape from this torture, but He seemed unwilling to release me from this torment.

Finally, after an aeon of agony, my father spoke. "By all rights, I should put you down. You're tainted. Touched by Satan. And I won't have you corrupting my son. Get your things together. I'll give you until dawn to get off my property. After that, if my son catches you, may the Lord and Master have mercy on your soul." With that, he and Jacob turned and left the room. My mother stared after them, then looked at me almost apologetically, whimpered and turned away from me, shutting the door behind her.

For a few minutes I simply sat on the bed, numb with shock. Then as surprise gave way to anger, I fought down the desire to charge out and kill them all in self-righteousness. I jumped up and touched the door-handle, but stopped. If they died, more would follow. Killing them would do nothing but make me a murderer. And they were my family, even if I was no longer a son in my parents' eyes. I sighed, and cried as I realised the full implication of what my father had said. What Charles Carter had said. He was no longer my father. And I was no longer his son. Not in his eyes. Probably not in God's eyes, either. Animals have no sense of patriarchy, and routinely hunt and kill their own relatives in fights over food.

Then I stopped. And I remembered the words of Our Lord. Even the tiny sparrow is in the eyes of God. God is everywhere, and no one escapes His gaze. He, then, had to know of my plight. And if He did nothing to change the way things were, then He must have His reasons for leaving them as He did. Thus, since I am a werewolf, God must have his reasons for me to be such. The Brotherhood, then, was not acting in accord with God's plan, but against it.

I sat in the floor and thought a lot about the Brotherhood, and about its goals. And I realised that the Brotherhood was no different from the bullies at school, that tried to make the world fit their own twisted image by intimidating everyone around them. They weren't following the words of God. They were abusing the Lord's words, twisting them to fit their own hate-filled plans. They feared us. They hated us. And they envied us. And what they could not possess and understand, they sought to destroy, like frightened cavemen before the inventor of fire.

I resolved, then and there, to take nothing from this house. I wanted no trace of this life to follow me when I left. Even my name I would leave behind. I would find the others like me, and I would ask to be taken in. I had nothing, but surely what I would find would be more of a true brotherhood than anything promised by my.. by Jacob Carter's friends.

I picked up the crucifix and, making the sign of the cross and whispering a prayer for forgiveness, swung the heavy wooden cross through the window. The glass shattered with a satisfying smash, and I used the end to knock out the remaining pieces of grass. Closing my eyes and focusing on the feelings of my dreams, I felt the now-familiar, long-awaited burning as I shed my humanity. My door opened, and my father stood there, holding a shotgun. I turned and snarled at him, and was rewarded by the strong odor of urine as he lost control of himself. He tried to aim the shotgun at me, but I dropped to all fours and ran, howling my freedom, into the night.

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