Well, it was a full moon last night over here in California (or almost a full moon, ok, it looked like a full moon). And so today, the day after a full moon seemed like a perfect day to post this chapter on.

It's the aftermath of the fight - and how are are our werewolves doing?

As usual, Being Human does not belong to me. Neither does VitaminWater (and nor is any endorsement of that product intended).

Many thanks to all who have read this, and especially to MancVamp, Ruby Rosetta Red, Team Honolulu Heights, and SAINT for the reviews! They are much appreciated! :)

"That's a fucked up trick." Snarled Lindsey.

The others ignored her, which only increased Lindsey's bad mood. She knew what they were thinking: 'Oh look, it's Linds, bitching on again. Like she always does after losing a match.' Sure enough, her lingering wolf senses caught Ryan muttering under his breath—"Grow up."

"Fucking hell Ryan!" She raged, leaping and grabbing the cage bars, pressing herself against them. Transfers were hell, but afterwards she generally felt complete. She was invincible in those moments—the ideal mix of human and animal. It was like the two sides of her had merged into the perfect, unbeatable being—evolution at its best. But not today.

Today, she had come out of the transformation the loser of the match; Bryn had beaten her—thrashed her. Oh she'd started off well enough, that initial lunge through the air, the tackle to the ground, the rolling and snapping. For a brief moment, she'd even believed she'd pinned her opponent. But then Bryn had flipped her and after that it had gone downhill—Bryn allowing Lindsey to land blows for show. It didn't look like show—Bryn was too good to make the fight look staged—but Lindsey knew. After that flip, Bryn had been toying with her.

Tim laughed softly. " I heard you bit her." He pointed out.

"For shit?" muttered Ryan.

"For god's sake I can still hear you, dumb-ass!" Lindsey yelled before slumping to the floor in a huff as Liam herded the offending Ryan away with a smiling "Come on, man."

Rob wandered in—probably drawn by the noise she'd been making—and glanced over those assembled, taking stock. The werewolves were still in their cages—tempers were apt to run high after transfers and so for everyone's sanity the pack stayed separated. It was the price they paid for doing their job—when you fought each other on a regular basis in wolf form; you were apt to get snappish. And some of them tread a finer line between friendly sparing and rip-your-head-off death matches then others. Lindsey knew which category she was filed under—the later.

"Put some clothes on." Rob sighed to Lindsey, because Rob cared about that sort of thing. The werewolves—they were used to it. You came out of a transfer naked—fact of life. Everybody was used to it; you had to be to run with the pack. But Rob, bastion of standards, liked to see everyone back to being normal, to being human. "We are not a nudist colony." He was fond of reminding Lindsey and Tio.

Lindsey rolled her eyes at Rob's back and reached through the bars for the pile of clothes Jamal had laid out for her: yoga capris, athletic tank-top, zip-up hoodie, her favorite red underwear. He'd also gotten her XXX VitaminWater and energy bars—as he knew she'd like. After the energy bars, she felt slightly less irritable.

"Tylenol?" offered Jamal.

Lindsey nodded and snatched the proffered painkillers brusquely. She didn't trust herself to speak. She felt like shit and her body was a ball of aching, battered muscle. She was liable to snap someone's head off.

"I'm making omelets." Jamal said. "Anything you want on yours?" He teased gently. It was an old, tired joke—but it normally elicited eye rolls and a ghost of a smile from Lindsey. But not this morning.

"No meat." Grumbled Lindsey, still sulky.

She wouldn't rise to Jamal's mockery—she wouldn't. Jamal was her partner, responsible for looking after her. Just as Ryan knew that Tio would inevitably tear his sleeping bag to shreds in gleeful, puppy-like joy during a transformation, Jamal knew that Lindsey was a vegetarian. She felt the judgment; he wanted to tell her to lighten up. But he didn't say anything, probably because he didn't want to risk exasperating her further—provoking another outbreak of rage.

"All right then. He sighed, and looked apologetic. "I'll see what I can do in the way of vegetables—though this is Eastern Europe. Don't get your hopes up. You can't have everything." Jamal finished meaningfully.

Lindsey ignored the hint. "Fuck it." She muttered and drew her legs up to her chin as Jamal walked off, shaking his head.