Howl echoed in the night, closely followed with another one. Rogue froze to the spot, her hand hovering in mid-air, just above the door handle of the fridge. She turned her head slightly and tried to see in to the darkened garden, but of course it was pointless. Kitchen lights reflected from the glass and ruined her view. And there probably wasn’t anything to see anyway. Stray dogs had been pestering the school recently, ransacking garbage pails, digging up flowerbeds and scaring younger children by appearing suddenly from behind various corners and ditches.

She shook her head and opened the fridge, intending to finally taste that apricot jam Jean had been praising for the whole day. And there it was again. A howl. Long and haunting noise rising slowly but steadily in volume, then slowly petering out. And now she could see something moving in the garden outside. It was close. Close enough for her to see a large, dark figure before it disappeared in to the shadows. And then it suddenly clicked. She smiled and tied the robe tighter around her slim figure before she crept to the door that led to the patio. It was Halloween, and somebody was trying to pull a prank on her.

She pushed the door silently open, her mind already going through numerous possibilities of who the prankster could be. Figure she had seen had been tall and wide, that alone narrowed the scale of suspects. She stepped out leaving the door open and proceeded carefully in to the waiting darkness, every step taking her further from the light that shone through the kitchen windows and the open doorway…

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Lone figure was tossing and turning on a wide bed. Heavy fist punished pillow that refused to cooperate. Then, as if in retaliation, pillow blew up spewing down all over the bed, and all over very annoyed Wolverine. He glared at the torn pillow for a moment, then stood up and stretched his back, walking to the window along the path that the full moon painted to the floorboards.

Regardless of the full moon shining brightly directly on to his bed he would have been able to sleep, but what made peaceful slumber highly unlikely was lurking somewhere out there, in the garden. One of those dogs had apparently decided to honor Halloween. Constant howling kept Wolverine awake, and he was starting to wonder if Xavier would finally allow him to get rid of the damn mutts.

He scratched his stubbled jaw and yawned when something caught his eye. Movement somewhere down below. He leaned against the window, trying to see better. He spotted a flash of green. Small figure creeping in the bushes. Rogue. What the hell was she doing outside at this hour? The howl echoed again, and he could see Rogue freezing, her whole posture screaming for alertness. Danger. And suddenly he couldn’t see any of those mangy mutts letting out such pure and long lasting cry of yearning. They were more in to barking and yelping than howlers…

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She was getting closer to the howler with every step she took. It was standing on two feet, covered to black, glossy fur from head to toes. It was standing by the fishpond, right in front of the library windows, staring inside and so engrossed to what it was seeing that it failed to notice Rogue as she kept creeping closer. Just few small steps separated them when the howler seemed to have gotten enough of the peepshow, turned and quite literally melted in to the shadows.

It was quite clear that she was dealing with an expert. Who ever it was, wearing that furry costume, had obviously earlier experience from this lurking business. Rogue sighed and relaxed, turning back, and collided with something warm and solid. When strong hands curled around her biceps she did the only thing that came in to her mind. She screamed.

“Shut up, kid. There’s something nasty lurking close by…” She heard Wolverine whisper.
“Something nasty?”
“Smells like a wet dog, but I’m not sure if any of those mutts that keep loitering around the garbage pails have the balls to make this kind of ruckus…” Wolverine grunted when yet another howl echoed, from all too close for comfort. And she felt like screaming or fainting or something else as stupid and girlish, but she settled for grasping his arm and squeezing it for all her worth, stifling the scream and making it come out as only a small gasp. To her relief Wolverine seemed to be in a relatively good mood, and allowed her girlish behavior, seemed even to encourage it by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side protectively.
“Come on. Let’s get you back inside. First thing tomorrow I’ll come and see if this visitor of ours left any tracks to follow…”

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Rogue was still shivering when they got back inside. He could tell from her scent that it wasn’t because of she was cold. She was genuinely afraid.
“Did you see what it was?” He asked. Rogue shook her head, then nodded.
“I thought it was just one of the boys, trying to pull a prank on me…” She stuttered through chattering teeth.
“A prank?”
“You know… Halloween, costumes, witches and monsters…”
“Well, I’m quite sure that it wasn’t a prank. So don’t go out there tonight anymore, okay?” He said, regretting his choice of words instantly when Rogue’s cheeks turned pale and her eyes turned as if their own volition towards the darkness behind the kitchen windows.
“Wasn’t thinking of going out anyway…” She whispered and shuffled out from the kitchen. She hadn’t gotten far when her shrill scream made Wolverine bolt after her.

He could see her standing at the end of the corridor. Large and furry figure was standing next to her. Professor Hank McCoy, he identified her ‘assailant’. From this distance he could hear them both apologizing and giggling quite breathlessly. Then Rogue continued up the stairs, and McCoy was walking towards the kitchen, worried frown cast upon his blue face.

“Trouble with sleeping?” Wolverine asked when McCoy passed him at the doorway. Professor nodded and went to the fridge, grasping a carton of milk and quite uncharacteristically drank straight out of it.
“Haven’t you heard it?”
“Heard what?” Wolverine asked. A howl echoed from the outside, this time sounding as if it came from the other side of the building.
“That,” McCoy, otherwise known as the Beast clarified when the noise died down. Wolverine nodded.
“Rogue was outside. Brought her back in. I was just going back out to see…”
“I’d strongly recommend not to go out there. Not tonight,” McCoy said with a stern voice.
“You know something,” Wolverine said, leaning closer to the other man. McCoy nodded.
“Perhaps. Perhaps I know, perhaps I’m just a fool who puts entirely too much weight on to the old wives tales, but that sound… Can’t you feel it? Going through your skull and spine, calling… Calling for… Something.”
“For blood. It’s calling blood. And blood it’ll get if it doesn’t get the hell out of Xavier’s property,” Wolverine grunted, walking out and leaving McCoy standing alone in the kitchen, intending to track down the howler before it managed to wake the whole neighborhood. Last thing Xavier and his school needed was to have somebody raising the curiosity and upping the annoyance of the neighboring homes at this close of Congress voting over the Registration Act. And last thing he wanted was to have some unnamed beast sneaking around and scaring children. They were jumpy and jittery over the whole Halloween-business already, no need to add fuel to the flames.

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She couldn’t sleep. It was impossible to close her eyes and relax when every once and a while that cold and hollow howl pierced the air, chilling the blood in her veins and making her muscles curl to painful knots in fear. She wrapped a quilt over her shoulders and sat on the windowsill, resting her head against the cool glass. At the immediate vicinity of the mansion thick bushes and trees covered the ground from her view, but full moon colored the plush grass beyond the actual garden to almost silver, and made the narrow strip of bare lawn between the garden and the edge of forest almost as light as if it were day instead of night, and there, among the silver she could see a lone figure standing, hands braced to tight fists and head held high. Wolverine.

As she watched he twitched slightly. Moonlight danced eerily over the sharp blades that oozed out from between his knuckles, making them gleam wetly. Something was moving in the shadows of the forest lining the soft grass. Something dark. Then, as she watched, Wolverine crouched and the deadly extensions of cold metal were drawn back in to his hands. A battered looking dog limped from the shadows and Wolverine reached for it, scratching it from behind torn ears.

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All of them, Rogue, Beast, the dog and even Wolverine failed to notice dark and sinister entity as it scaled the wall of the mansion almost soundlessly, reaching the roof and disappearing in to the shadows of the decorative structures…

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Next morning found tired and cranky Wolverine, and equally tired professor Xavier from the kitchen, both trying to drown the demands of sleep of their bodies to vast amounts of caffeine. Wolverine had been too wound up to sleep, and professor Xavier had been waking up gasping for breath and nearly screaming from the weight of horrific nightmares.
“I wonder if Jean has had problems with sleeping as well…” Professor ventured, blowing gently to the steaming liquid in the fragile porcelain cup. Wolverine flashed him a tired smile.
“She didn’t sleep. She was… Occupied. Scott got back home this evening, remember?” He asked. Professor’s eyebrows rose, then a sheepish smile settled over his features.
“Oh… Of course. And Henry? Have you talked about this with him? I understand he as well was unable to sleep last night.”
“We talked. Can I make a suggestion?” Wolverine asked, reaching for the coffee pot and refilled his mug. Professor nodded and sipped from his cup, grasping a napkin when his hands shook and some of the coffee spilled on his robe.
“McCoy has probably spent too much time researching supernatural. You may want to restrain his access to the library.”
“Is that so?” Professor Xavier asked, then raised his gaze from the coffee and nodded.
“Good morning, Henry. I take it that the sleep evaded you as well?” He asked from Hank McCoy who shuffled in to the kitchen, normally immaculate appearance in rather fuzzy state.

Next morning found Rogue as well, slumped against the window, in deep sleep, small dribble of drool stuck in to the cool glass under her face. She didn’t wake up when Wolverine crept in, turned off her alarm clock and tucked her to bed. She didn’t wake up when he checked her bathroom and the tall cabinet that stood in the corner. When other students rushed to first classes of the day she slept peacefully under Wolverine’s watchful, yet sleepy eyes.

There was something wrong. He could smell it in the air. Dark presence spread through the whole mansion. Scent and feel of it was strongest in here, student’s dormitories. When his eyes started to drift shut Wolverine stood up from the surprisingly comfortable wicker chair and stretched his back. Sleeping wasn’t an option when he didn’t know who or what emitted the sense of danger, death and decay all over the place.

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Wolverine wasn’t the only one who found the new presence disturbing. Professor Xavier was unable to concentrate teaching physics when constant slideshows of blood and death kept interrupting his thoughts. Doctor Jean grey, after joyful night with her companion Scott Summers felt uncommonly nervous and agitated. Professor Hank McCoy spent the day in the city rather than stayed in his lab in the sublevel of the mansion. Few students showed signs of restlessness and unease, all of them possessing mutations related to heightened senses and telepathy. And when the school was over and the sun started its descent on the sky, allowing the coming night to step closer things turned from bad to worse...

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First sign of true danger came from the school’s industrial sized kitchen. Cook that had been going through stocks to see what was needed from the city found the meat locker wide open, frozen slabs of red, rare meat thrown everywhere, partially eaten, walls decorated with scraps of chewn meat and small speckles of blood. The intruder was obviously capable of physical contact.

From there on things spiraled fast downhill. Students gathered to the dining hall, refusing to go to sleep or to return to their dorms. Something had invaded the mansion, and nobody knew what it was, or more importantly where it was. Professor Xavier and Jean managed to steer their minds away from the imminent danger, partially by using their gifts, but more just by talking with them. All the while Scott Summers, Cyclops, was forming a plan with Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler and Beast. Plan that would involve evacuating the mansion and purging out the evil that had invaded the school.

“We have a suitable place for the kids to spend few nights. Now the only question that remains is who’s going to stay back and take care of our visitor?” Cyclops asked. It was more rhetorical question than one born out of need to know. All eyes turned to Wolverine.
“I’ll make sure that the fucker sees the benefits of leaving.”
“You want some help with that?” Cyclops asked. Wolverine snorted.
“No. You better go with the kids. It might… Get ugly. We have no idea what this thing is, but I have been gathering scents and sounds through last night and day, and they tell me that we’re dealing with a mean bastard. I need… Free hands with this one…”

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Only few hours later the mansion was empty aside from Wolverine, his adversary who stayed well hidden away and one rogue element, Rogue who had refused to follow teachers and other students as they fled to safety.
“Stay close, but stay out of my way kid…” Wolverine grunted. Rogue nodded, then went to the cupboards and pulled out a kettle.
“I’m going to make some tea. You want some?” She asked.
“I’d rather have a cold beer, but I guess tea will have to do. I’m going to check out this floor. Scream if you see anything moving.”

As he crept in the deserted classrooms and corridors he tried to come up with a plausible reason of why he had been unable to say no when Rogue had informed them in no-nonsense manner that she wasn’t going to run and hide, but rather stay with him. All in fairness the decision had gotten out of his hands when the girl in question had all but handcuffed herself to the banister of the staircase that led to the second floor and told that she wouldn’t be leaving unless Cyclops used his gift to render her unconscious, and that would have been rather unethical thing to do. At least according to Cyclops himself.

Everything was silent. Almost too silent. It was as if the building itself was holding its breath in anticipation. He returned to the kitchen where Rogue waited with steaming mugs of tea.
“Nothing?” She asked. He took the offered mug from her.
“Nothing. But it’s here. I can feel it. Smell it.”
“I wouldn’t know that anything was wrong if it hadn’t been howling last night. Feels kind of stupid to be afraid of something I can’t even see.”
“Is that why you stayed? You’re not afraid?”
“I’m afraid. But I figured that the safest place to be would be right behind you.”

As flattering as her comment was, he was afraid that she was putting too much faith in him. One thing she had gotten right. Safest place would be behind him when he unleashed his rage, but that didn’t mean that it would be safe to be anywhere near when he faced their unwanted guest. For a moment he toyed with the idea of knocking her unconscious and calling to Cyclops to come and get her. Howl that echoed through the mansion stopped him from following that plan.

For her credit Rogue didn’t scream and try to grab him. She just sat at the table, her face pale, holding her breath, forgotten mug of tea spreading to a pool at her feet.
“It’s here. Asking us to come out and play,” he said, crouching next to her and started collecting sharp shards of broken mug before she stepped on them and hurt herself.
“I could call to Scott. Ask him to come and pick you up,” he proposed, but Rogue shook her head.
“I belong to where you are,” she whispered, her cheeks reddening slightly, and he decided then and there to confiscate every fucking harlequin from her possession. Damn things only screwed up her head. And wasn’t she entirely too young to read those anyway?
“Okay. Grab your coat.”
“My coat?”
“I’m going outside. And I’m not leaving you alone in here.”

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In retrospect he should have been the responsible adult. He should have made her leave with the others. Should have. But he let his ego do the talking, let it get the better of him when she told him that her place was at his side. And now it was too late to regret.

It was waiting outside, towering well over 7 feet tall. Muscular body covered with black fur, impossible looking fangs protruding from its long, canine-like jaws, yellow eyes narrowed and lips curled to a threat. A werewolf.

Before Wolverine had the time to react it swiped him down. He could see it approaching Rogue; drool dribbling from its jaws, gnarled paws reaching for the girl who stood in shock at the doorway.
“Oh, no, you don’t…” He growled, reaching and grabbing one hairy ankle and giving it a sharp yank. Wolf-like creature stumbled backwards with a mighty roar, turning its attention back to him. He bounced back on his feet, claws tearing their way out through skin and muscle, locking in to their rightful places.
“Why don’t you pick someone your own size…” Wolverine proposed. Werewolf tilted its mangy head, fleshy tongue lolling behind cage of razor-sharp fangs, something that reminded of a toothy grin spreading its grimace even wider. It looked almost as if it were measuring Wolverine, comparing him to it.
“You want to play? What the fuck are you waiting for? A written invitation?” Wolverine barked. Werewolf raised one giant paw, fingers curling to the universal ‘come hither’ gesture.

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And now it started to look like he had finally found his match. The match of a lifetime, the one battle he wasn’t all too sure he would come out on top. Rogue was still standing in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen in shock. Both him and the wolf were already exhausted. Large stubs of black hair, and scraps of Wolverine’s jacket and shirt decorated the lawn. More than once he had thought that the wolf was down, but every time it bounced back with vengeance, every short moment it spent on the ground seemingly restoring its strength to some extent. And he had no such luxury. Every wound he received took a little longer to heal. Every blow the wolf managed to get past his guard took a little longer to absorb and recover.

He managed to get past its guard and sunk his claws deep in to its hairy chest, right where its heart should have been. He couldn’t feel the pulse throbbing against the metal blades. Couldn’t feel the warmth of the blood as it should have been rushing greedily over his strained knuckles. Wolf felt strangely cold and hollow. But it hurt. Long and heavy head fell backwards and jaws opened to a pained howl before it started slowly evaporating, melting until all that was left were few bits of black fur and small scratches on Wolverine’s skin that hadn’t yet healed over.

He fell on to his knees, unable to stand, unable to retract his claws. Breathe. Breathing was a good thing. It was funny how one started appreciate certain things only after one had already almost lost them for good. Rogue stood at the doorway, her gaze fixed to something behind his back. He forced himself to move the necessary inches it took to turn over. What he saw made the blood in his veins turn to thick and sluggish stream of thick syrup.

Shadows were gathering, long, greasy tendrils slithering over the lawn, melting together, transforming, and an enraged howl pierced the night when wolf reared its ugly head again…

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He lay on the ground, too tired to move. Too tired to care anymore. Wolf had stalked past him and at the moment it could have been feasting over Rogue’s lifeless carcass, but he couldn’t call forth the strength it would have taken to stand up and face the beast.

Stars were blinking brightly above him. Slight breeze ruffled his sweaty hair, tickled the tip of his nose. It felt rather nice just to lay here and wait. Wait for the wolf to come back for him. Almost like he sometimes did when he was waiting for Rogue after classes when she needed to get in to the city for shopping or something equally mundane. Just a slight breeze as he lay waiting, his eyes closed. And she usually made an honest effort of trying to sneak up on him, but there was no sneaking up now. His short dreaming session got rudely interrupted when a very terrified and determined girl grasped his arms and started to jostle him up.

“Get up! Get up! It’s coming!”
“Let go!”
“Get up! Now! It’s coming and… Oh, my God… It’s here.”

Strong paws curled around his ankles and for a moment Rogue and the wolf were playing tug-of-war with his limp carcass. Of course the wolf won, what chances would a girl who barely weighed fifty kilos when soaking wet would have had against beast of that magnitude. When he felt warm breath fanning over his stomach he knew what would happen. And when row of sharp teeth sunk in to his side he twisted around and brought his fists against the wolf’s forehead, releasing the claws. Both sets pierced the skull, much similar way as the old-fashioned bolt pistols that were used in slaughterhouses long before it became more humane to finish off animals with electricity.

Wolf froze, then started convulsing. Black, ink-like substance poured out from its muzzle, eyes and ears. After a long moment it drew one last breath, released it and died, huge carcass shrinking until they were able to recognize it as one of the stray dogs. Black tendrils writhed on the grass, then sunk through it, melt in to the ground.

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“I need a beer…” Wolverine grunted, struggling back on his feet and taking few swaying steps towards the kitchen. Rogue appeared to his side, urging him to lean on her.
“You need a shower first. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Then we can see if we can find some beer for you,” she said. He felt like he should argue, at least offer some resistance. It wouldn’t do to hand the reigns of his life without fight to a tiny slip of a girl, but when her arm wrapped around his waist and he could feel the tremors that still wrecked her body he gave up.
“Fine. Shower first. And then we’re going to practice some serious drinking.”
“But I’m not allowed to…”
“Oh, shush. You’re going to have one beer with me. If you hadn’t come to me that mangy mutt would have gotten a decent feast out of me.”