In theory, Brandon knew what the next month would be like for him. He felt the shift in his body the moment Crash made contact. He could feel the surge of energy and spirit that started to fill him.

The following month would be the time the wolf started to form. To become his new half. The time they would get to feel each other out before the wolf had its shining moment, and he shifted for the first time.

For some, this change went smoother than others. There have been some members who struggled to get a hold of themselves. Their new wolf side was too much to handle, and they broke. The wolf won and took them over. It wasn't a pretty thing to see or something any of them ever wanted to happen to a brother or sister.

In most cases, the only way to help was to put them down. They couldn't allow a feral wolf to roam free, and they usually had no way of bringing the person back to reality once they snapped.

The last thing any of them wanted to do was to put one of their friends they loved and cared for down.

It was a mental game he would have to play for the rest of his life to keep that balance within himself. As for now, he felt nothing but drained, forcing himself up. And to work the following morning.

He had to go on as nothing had changed for him. Brandon was happy that he took two weeks off of work over the one he thought he would need. With the rally and biting ceremony back to back. A part of him knew he would need more time.

"You're bleeding." Commented Quinn in shock as Brandon was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Bright red blood stained the upper sleeve of his shirt as a trail of it ran down along the front of his arm.

Brandon was so spaced out that he didn't even feel it. The place where Crash bit him was numb for the time being. Faster healing was a perk of becoming one that walked at night, but for the time being, Brandon wasn't blessed with that.

"Fuck." He cussed to himself as he headed back to his room. A trail of tiny drops followed him.

Quinn didn't want to clean it up, but he knew Brandon had to be getting to work. He had it marked on the calendar in red ink. Not wanting him to be any later than he already would be, Quinn spot-cleaned the floor with some bleach he found under the bathroom sink.

"Are you okay?" Asked Quinn outside of Brandon's door.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Stated Brandon, whipping the door open and brushing past Quinn in the tight hallway.

"Fine." Replied Quinn. He was tired of asking if he was okay and getting yelled at in return.

* * * * *

As the days went on, Brandon only became more irritable. Moody. Lashing out at Quinn more often than not, he would sometimes apologize, but Quinn tried to not take any of it personally. He was the one that was invading his home.

It was on the third missed call that Quinn finally picked up Brandon's phone. The number was a local but not one that Brandon had saved.

"Hello?" Answered Quinn.

"Where's Brandon?" Asked Crash from the other side.

"Sleeping."

"Well, wake his ass up. I need him."

"Can't."

"You can't," Crash said, more annoyed.

"How about I won't. He's been up for the past three days and called out of work today. So I'm not waking him."

Crash sighed. He could feel that Brandon was struggling, but there wasn't anything he could do about it for the time being. He also wasn't the type to reach out to others. If Brandon needed something from him, he would have to ask for it. Plus, both of them knew that this month defined them.

"He won't talk to me . . . not that he has any reason to, but something's off. Something I'm sure falls under the don't ask part of your threat, but I'm not waking him." Quinn rambled.  

"Fuck." Mumbled, Crash running his hand over his face.

Quinn could hear the noise of what sounded to be a police station in the background. "Did you get yourself in trouble?" Quinn teased.

"I'll figure it out."

"Might want to think fast. Isn't your special night like tomorrow?" Quinn looked out the main window of the apartment, and the moon was almost full.

"There's that mouth of yours again." But he was right. Crash couldn't wait till Monday for his court appearance before the judge. He needed to be bailed out tonight.

"Last I checked, you were quite fond of my mouth. Or was I mistaken?"

"Just shut up and listen."

* * * * *

Crash telling him not to fucking touch anything played over in his mind as he stood outside Crash's place. He looked up at the building that was supposedly his home. As far as he could tell from the outside, it was nothing more than an old two-door garage auto body shop on the outskirts of town. There wasn't another building or home in sight. Then again, the only light this far out from the city was the moon in all her glory.

Moving around back as he was instructed to, walking up the porch steps and punching in the six-digit code Crash had given him. The sound of a few beeps before the door clicked allowing him to turn the handle without setting the whole place off. He felt around on the wall for a light switch. Not finding one, they were motion-sensed, so once he stepped inside they turned on.

Quinn was told to go straight upstairs, but he was a man with a curious mind. So what if he took a few extra minutes to peep around? Most of everything was covered with thick shop sheets. The only things that were out in the open were tools. And what he assumed to be his spare bike or a bike he was fixing up.

Quinn kicked a few of the metal shavings that were on the ground with his Converse. Then pulled at the sheet closest to him, wanting to see what was underneath, not pull the whole thing off. The sheet knocked up dust from the ground, causing him to cough as he waved his hand to clear the air. It was a sculpture. Made of all metal and looked to be handmade, welded together, taking a step back to get a better look. It was a bit abstract for his tastes, but it had a nice balance to its smooth edges. Finer pieces meshed in with beautiful curvature. It honestly, surprised Quinn to think Crash was capable of making something this good with his hands.

Struggling for a few moments to try and get the sheet back up over it before he finally gave up, Crash could yell at him about it later if he chose to.

He released the latch to pull the gate to the old school elevator open. Quinn held tight to the wall as it slowly made its way up, relieved when it made it. Then another code to get inside and a few more beeps. Crash didn't want anyone inside his home. He had already promised that he would be changing the codes as soon as he got home.

"Not bad." Stated Quinn as he walked in. It didn't look like a place Crash would live. It felt cold and almost sterile compared to his workshop. Everything had its place, not much of a personal touch. There were no family photos. Well, there was one photo, sitting on the slender table that ran along the backside of the sofa in the middle of the living room. From the looks of the man, it could be a brother. Maybe a father.

"Okay. Crash said it was in the bedroom." Quinn looked to his left. He guessed that room had to be it. There was no door to the room, but from this angle, Quinn could see what appeared to be a bed. Flicking on the light next to the bed as he looked at the floor. Crash said it was in here, stepping around until he felt a loose floorboard. Kneeling so he could pry it up and reveal the safe underneath it.

"Fuck was it two six or six two." He questioned entering the numbers wrong the first time, six-two, then.

Crash needed cash to bail himself out. Quinn questioned why he didn't just call another brother but had some lame excuse of not wanting to bother anyone else. Quinn felt it was just him not wanting to get into more trouble with the chapter. Quinn was pretty sure that getting arrested for assault wasn't something they raved about.

"My god." Breathed Quinn as he looked at the stash of money he had hidden on the floor. "Most people would use a fucking bank."

It was then Quinn heard a heavy wet-sounding growl from behind him. He was almost too scared to look. Questioning why this was the third time this was happening to him since he came to be here. He hadn't heard the sound of nails tapping the wooden flooring behind him.

"Heeeyyy puppy." His voice shook as he spoke. However, it wasn't a puppy. At all, but a fully grown blue pit bull flaring its teeth at him. "Your Dad said I could come in . . ." He whispered, "Didn't bother to tell me about you. . . .you're a good boy, right?"

The dog barked and stepped closer to him. The short hairs along his spine stood up straight. He didn't care what Quinn had to say. He was intruding on his home. Something Quinn seemed to be good at these days.

"We're a good boy, right?" Smiled Quinn as he slowly stood up. Dogs liked him. At least most did. He had the money he needed just had to get back to the elevator. And he was home free. "Yeah, be a good boy." He slowly started to walk around the dog that just pivoted with him, growling.

Once he got a good foot away from the beast. Quinn ran for it. Running probably wasn't the best move because the dog came chasing after him, biting at his ankle. Quinn had to practically kick the dog to get him to let go of his ankle, shoving the dog back further into the room so he could shut the gate.