The CD player blared.
# I'm taking a ride with my best friend
I hope (s)he never lets me down again....#
The boy smiled at the irony.
Driving carefully now. Willow always *hated* it when he drove too fast; he had knocked down a rabbit once and she had cried for a week... such a loving heart, oh how she cared. So much room in that heart for love... *so* much room...
The boy sighed, fatigue setting in. It had been a long day and it was gonna be a long night. He was nearly at his destination, though. Through the darkness he could see the sparkle of the ocean up ahead. He wound down the window a little and inhaled deeply... Ahhhhh there it was; that salty, fresh smell.
The boy was very sensitive to smell, you see. His senses heightened by the wolf within, he could practically smell the grass growing... or so Willow had always said. He smiled at the memory, but frowned again as that memory was chased by another... another memory, another smell.
Vanilla.
Willow's hair had always smelled of vanilla. On long, passion-filled nights when they were spent and sated the boy would hold her in his arms, marvelling at the softness of her skin, burying his face in the silken ocean of her red hair, inhaling the scent that was so much a part of Willow.
He had revered that scent, craved it, loved it, *claimed* it.
Then another had stolen it.
Angry tears stung his eyes as he remembered, remembered her hated face, her stuttering, her lies... remembered the one who had stolen his scent, his Willow.
He had nearly killed the bitch there and then, but *they* had taken him; taken him, imprisoned him, tortured him.
They had *hurt* him.
The boy growled deep in his throat and struggled to hold back the Change. This was not the time or the place; things to do, miles to go....
# I'm taking a ride with my best friend
I hope he never lets me down again
Promises me I'm as safe as houses
As long as I remember who is wearing the trousers...#
But she *hadn't* remembered though, had she?
OK... he had left. He had to. No choice. But she should have waited, she *knew* he would be back for her... *knew* she was his...
Tears were flowing now, hot and unwanted, bitter little drops of pain and betrayal and... guilt?
NO!
Not guilt... Not guilt... he had no guilt! He was blameless, innocent, deceived, spotless...
Not spotless, though.
The black cotton t-shirt he wore camouflaged his guilt, camouflaged his spots... *their* spots... their blood.
# Never let me down...#
... walking to their door... little pigs, little pigs, let me in....
# Never let me down...#
...not by the hair on your chiny chin chin?
# Never let me down...#
...I'll puff... and I'll shout...
# Never let me down...#
...And I'll rip your throats out....
Driving the van into a lay-by, the boy sobbed and rested his head on the steering wheel. He was tired, so tired...
Chest hitching, guts heaving, he opened the rear doors of the van. There were three packages... three black, plastic packages. He supposed he was like, I dunno... a sort of evil Santa. He giggled manically, hysteria beckoning.
Three packages.
One for Willow... ahhh God, his sweet Willow.
One for the bitch's body.
The other for her head... he had bitten it off, you see.
The boy hid the bodies under the black cover of night. Maybe they would be found, maybe not... he didn't much care because by then he would be long gone.
Back in the van, driving now. Faster... he could drive faster now Willow was gone... gone for good.
He switched on the CD player, switched it to *his* song. He decided that this was the last time - he would never listen to it again.
Time to start afresh. He didn't need sympathy, he didn't need lies.
He didn't need Willow.
# See the stars, they're shining bright
Everything's alright tonight.#