A/N: Okay, so the majority of those who voted wanted the werewolf-fic. And here it is. I'm not sure how often I'll update, though. The title is taken from Florence + The Machine's "Howl". Have fun reading!
There are many stories about werewolves, shapeshifters, lycans. Or whatever the people that change into a big wolf are called in other cultures and languages. Blaine heard them all while growing up. His mother told him every story she remembered, some of them before he went to bed, some of them while they were baking or cooking and some of them while his father and his two older brothers were away on the night of the full moon. His parents never lied to him about what his father was, about what his brothers were and about what Blaine was. They taught him to respect Mother Moon, how to read Her ever-changing face. When he was growing up they taught him pack rules, pack politics. And when his fifth birthday was coming closer they taught him to read what his father called his 'inner wolf'. They prepared him as best as they could, but his first transformation, which took place on the first full moon after his fifth birthday, hurt nonetheless. But he managed. He integrated into the pack, became the Alpha's youngest son and he grew to like his wolf in some way. But nothing, nothing could prepare him for what happened when he was seventeen.
Kurt on the other hand never heard those stories about werewolves. He never learned about the packs that were roaming the Americas and Canada. So he was even more unprepared for what happened when he was seventeen.
New Directions had been invited by a company from Westerville to sing at a small event said company had organized. Although the show itself was Saturday night only, they had been asked to come Friday already so they could rehearse at the original venue on Saturday afternoon. Hotel and all expenses were paid for.
Kurt didn't quite know what to make of it, but he decided that he'd look forward to it, because Mr Schue had offered him a solo, much to Rachel's dismay. She, after all, had only a few leading parts in their second number and not a whole song.
They passed the "Welcome to Westerville" sign and in the light of the full moon – Kurt hated November, because it got dark so early – he saw a big dog standing at the edge of the woods that spread to his left. He put a hand to the window of the bus and the dog started howling.
Blaine had felt twitchy and restless the last days. He knew that it was mostly because of Mother Moon and he looked forward to running with the pack tonight even though it meant he would be exhausted tomorrow.
Blaine put his guitar down and looked up. His brother Michael stood in the doorway to his room, only wearing a pair of sweatpants.
"You coming? The pack is assembling and you know Mom will go nuts if you shift inside of the house again."
"Yeah, coming." Blaine sighed and started undressing. After all, his clothes wouldn't magically disappear once he was a wolf. And he wasn't keen on almost choking on his tee's collar or having numb legs because his trousers were too tight.
Michael chuckled. "You can still see the claw marks on the furniture, you know."
Blaine threw his jeans towards his brother. "Shut it, Mike!"
Mike laughed and went back downstairs, most likely to meet their father and the rest of the pack.
Blaine took off his watch and put it on the nightstand before he followed his brother downstairs. Alexandra, their mother, stood by the backdoor, looking out on the grounds where the pack had assembled.
"Take care, Blaine."
He pecked her on the cheek. "I will, Mom."
"And please don't run through catchweed again."
Blaine rolled his eyes. Why was everyone reminding him of embarrassing moments today?
"I promise, Mom."
She hugged him shortly, before he joined the pack, his brother Mike and their father.
Thomas stood there, gaze switching between the moon and his watch. Blaine had always wondered how he knew the exact moment they were forced to shift. But it was probably an alpha-thing, he wasn't sure.
"Let's get ready," Thomas shouted and Blaine got rid of his boxers. It was cold and he just wished he would soon be in his warm fur, running, howling, playing, hunting. Feeling his pack beside him, smelling them, hearing everything and suddenly he was on his knees, hands digging into the ground, pain rippling through his body. As much as he loved his pack and his inner wolf – this was something he hated. It felt a bit like his bones melted and formed new ones. He was sure he lost consciousness for a moment, because suddenly, when he opened his eyes again, everything was different. The world smelled different, it felt different and it looked different. Blaine stretched, his right hind-paw lifting from the ground. He yawned. Sniffed.
There. He sniffed again. Something. No... He sniffed a third time. Someone. Close. It smelled so good. Not like prey. Not like food. Like... like his.
His alpha woofed once, getting their attention. They were going hunting, soon. Hunting was nice. Hunting meant food.
Wind rustled through the leaves and there was it again. All thoughts of food chased from his mind. He turned around, chasing away from their backyard, through the forest. He had problems locating that smell, it was as if it moved. Then, he came to the edge of the forest. A road ahead, he could smell the gas and hear the cars roaring. But above all that, there was something else. A feeling. Knowing, maybe.
"Where have you been?"
Blaine jerked awake. He was cold, shivering and he ached all over. His mind was still fuzzy around the edges and he felt like he had just transformed. But when he opened his eyes he could see that the sun was too high for that. Or what he could see from the sun, because he was partly lying underneath shrubbery and there was also someone standing in front of him.
"I asked you something, Blaine."
His father. His alpha.
Blaine's inner wolf was still too present and even though he was the alpha's son, he was still lower ranked. He presented his neck slightly when he crawled out of the bushes.
"I'm sorry, dad."
"That still doesn't answer my question."
And despite his serious tone, Thomas Anderson handed his son a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
"Your mother made breakfast. Go, eat something and then we will talk."
He left without another word and Blaine knew he was in trouble.
"So?" Michael poured some maple syrup over his waffles when Blaine entered the kitchen.
"So what?" Blaine went over to the stove and piled pancakes and bacon on his plate.
"Where were you?"
"Not you too, Mike," Blaine sighed.
"But it's a valid question, bro."
Blaine ignored his question and wolfed down his pancakes, wanting to be done with the talk sooner than later, so he could get a shower and maybe three hours or four of sleep, before he was to meet with the rest of the Warblers.
Ten minutes later he found himself knocking at his father's study door.
"Come in, Blaine." The voice was slightly muffled through the closed door.
Blaine opened it and entered. His father pointed towards the seat in front of his desk and Blaine sat down. He looked up and saw that it wasn't his father sitting in front of him, but his alpha. Which, usually, wasn't a good sign.
"Where have you been this night?"
"You know that you endangered our pack. If someone had caught you, the consequences could have been lethal. Yes, we have some basic protection from the government, but that does not mean you are allowed to roam without the protection of the pack."
"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered.
"I know you are and it was your first time straying. But I still want an explanation, Blaine."
Blaine looked up and saw his father looking at him. They had the same eyes, but his father's hair color was lighter, already streaked with gray, and he had no curls. Blaine took a deep breath.
"I smelled him, dad. And I … I just had to follow it."
Thomas looked at his son disbelievingly, eyebrows raised. "You smelled him, really."
"Yes, dad, I swear. I know that I shouldn't be able to, not yet, but I did." He closed his eyes, trying to recall the smell and his inner wolf stirred again. "Vanilla and honey and a bit like rain on a hot summer day."
His father chuckled but then he was serious again. "But there have to be consequences, you know that."
Blaine nodded, all excitement suddenly gone. "Yes."
"You won't be allowed to go on the field trip with the Warblers next Saturday." Blaine was about to interrupt, when his father spoke again. "I know, I know, they have no connection to the pack, but they resemble a pack to you, Blaine. And straying from your pack can have severe consequences. Not only for you, but for the pack as well. I just want you to remember that."
Blaine nodded again, he knew that there was no argument that would convince his father otherwise.
"And now off you go, get some sleep before you have to get ready for the concert tonight."
Blaine got up and was about to open the door when his father called his name.
He turned around, the hand still on the doorknob.
"Tomorrow night we're going to have to talk about mating."
Blaine groaned as he left his father's study. That's was the only thing why he hated to be a werewolf: They got the The Talk twice. Double the embarrassment. That would be fun.
Eight hours later found Blaine at the venue. It was a middle-sized hall, with tables in the audience instead of rows of seats. And as soon as Blaine had entered the backstage area Blaine had known he was here. Just that simple. The air was filled with the delicious smell of honey, vanilla and summer rain and something distinctly him that left him wanting for more.
The Warblers would be next on stage and Blaine stood off to the side. He watched another show choir, New Directions, he had read, perform their last number. He was a bit startled, when a boy stepped forward. But even more startled, when the first tunes of "Beauty and the Beast" started playing, the rest of the choir swaying and then starting a slow waltz in the background.
He was captivated by the boy's voice and barely noticed as his fellow Warblers lined up next to and behind him. He applauded with the rest, saw New Directions leaving towards the other side of the stage and followed his friends out onto the stage, performing like he was in trance and he was sure that it wasn't his best performance. But Blaine couldn't get his mind off of the boy, his looks and his wonderful voice and he wondered if he had smelled him. He hoped, singing the last tunes of their second number, that he would find out at the gathering for the choir that was to take place after the concert.