Rhapshody has been reading too many werewolf books, and after finishing linger last night, she found herself with an unprecedented amount of muse. Three hours and five thousand word later, here we are. A werewolf Glee oneshot. I don't even know anymore. Enjoy, and reviews are love! C:

Puck first bit Finn when he was twelve.

Well, Puck was twelve, Finn was eleven. Finn had known Puck was a werewolf for about four months, and hadn't stopped bugging him since. It drove Puck crazy, he'd been living with it for twelve years, the magic was lost to him. He knew that if he sunk his teeth into Finn's flesh, it wasn't going to be a game or a joke or something that could ever be forgotten. Puck told him no at least six hundred times, but still Finn begged.

Puck knew better. He'd been told not to all his life. All of it, everything that could be considered a perk, was not worth the struggle of having that second skin, that beast that lurked somewhere in your veins, aching to get out. Puck, for all of his bravado and bravery, still struggled with it. That wolf always ached to get out, stretch its claws, bare its teeth. And as swell as it was, letting it out when it was convenient, it was never convenient enough. When that other body begged to come forth, Puck first had to fight it back with fits of rage, locking it inside his body. Football was also useful, often leaving him too exhausted to care to the wolf's whims. Later, he fought it by replacing one need for another, suppressing the change in exchange for sex.

But even that only worked half the time.

But at twelve, Noah Puckerman was lonely. As the man of his household and the only werekin he knew, Puck craved companionship on the long nights where sleep was a vague idea and he spent his time alone in the filth ridden 'woods' of Lima.

And so, with Finn's full and eager consent, Puck had sunk his teeth deep into Finn's arm and screwed his life over forever.

To be fair, the two boys had fared well for the first few years. Finn found the change an easy release, a way to slink away from the stresses of life and spend time in another alien world, where suddenly dating and grades didn't matter and everything smelled fantastic.

But eventually he felt it too, that heartless, gut-wrenching need of his other skin, the times when it wanted to run off and escape and it just wasn't right. Fighting the other side just became another chore, and four years later, Finn admitted to regretting his decision. He admitted to Puck, who only watched with a cocky grin, that he wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Which was why he absolutely freaked when the rest of the club was infected.

It was at regionals of all places, where the club sat restless and impatient, waiting for their turn to get on stage. Schuester was off, ever courting his beloved redhead, and the group was more focused on vocal warm-ups than anything else. It was a good day for Finn and Puck, having run for so long the night before, satisfying the need of the beasts under their senses, the wolf curled into a hazy sleep in their guts.

That changed quickly though, as there was a knock on the door and two representatives from the other club, a ragtag group from the Lima secondary school, came in. Puck, the more experienced of the two noted it immediately, they reeked of canid, and even Finn was put off edge by the way they slunk around the room, feigning friendliness and giving kind handshakes.

Inside of Puck, the wolf growled, baring its teeth. Puck could only agree, not giving these others, this enemy pack, any benefit of the doubt. He watched the two of them with cold focus as they made nice, so intently focused that he didn't notice the tiny, truly miniscule, dark brown wolf slink in.

It was only when Kurt flinched with an exaggerated 'Ow!' that his head snapped to the side, and Finn jumped, pointing out the small fox like animal as it ducked beneath a table.

And that was all it took. Finn, never particularly skilled at suppressing his wolf, let out a vocal growl as he tried to flush it out, but all it led to was it darting out of its hiding space and bolting for Rachel's knee high socks. Puck tried to grab the mutt before it could bite, but there was no stopping it. It sank its teeth into her ankle and she yelled, kicking her leg. The wolf, the size of a beagle perhaps, ran off and connected instantly with Artie's useless legs.

At this point, Puck turned to the others with a snarl, his second skin begging to show some dominance over these idiots. He could only yell though, grabbing them and shoving them towards the door, Finn at his side.

The smell of blood though, it was everywhere. Between Kurt, Rachel, and Artie, the copper smell was thick in the air, and the representatives were soon lost in its pull. Finn, too, was weak to its charms and Puck had to send him after the beagle-wolf.

The room was in complete disarray. Puck watched as Finn shuddered, fear taking him as he tried to locate the smaller wolf before it grabbed its next victim, pinpointing it at Santana's leg. She kicked, but only managed to catch Finn, half shifted into his gangly white and black form, under the chin.

It all went to hell so, so fast.

Puck would later learn that the goal had been simple, to infect the club with minute traces of the wolf infection, sending them into the post bite high that would bring them down and make them lose the competition. On paper, it was a fine plan. But the wolves chosen were young, younger than even Finn, and the urge to chew and taste and spread was far more prevalent than any self control, and in a matter of minutes, it was a blood bath.

When Schuester had re-entered the room, so full of optimism, he'd almost fainted on sight. Finn, having regained control of his body after grabbing the beagle-sized wolf, was holding down the fort with the one wolf's scruff between his teeth, one paw on Rachel's mouth to stop her screaming, the other leaning lightly on a wound on Mercedes' stomach.

Puck had fared no better with the two culprits under his sharp, canine gaze. Sometime during the raid he supposed he'd changed, but it didn't matter then. His coat, a chocolate brown, was missing hefty chunks and spattered with blood, but he'd successfully brought down the younger pair of wolves, who at that point lay motionless under his paws.

The rest of the room was slowly succumbing to the poison, letting it seep deep into their veins, taking a hold of their bodies, numbing their minds as a new part of them was born. Hell, indeed.

Flash forward four months, and here they were.

The stranger wolves dealt with, the papers quieted, Jacob Ben Israel effectively shut up, Puck and Finn found themselves with one last challenge. The entire New Directions Glee Club.

Lucky for the club it was May, and a bright and shiny moon filled the sky with glow. The wind was warm, whispering secrets of growth and life, and the chill of spring was subduing, making room for summer's grip. In the midst of the woods, where the surplus of bodies sat, it was almost...nice. If, you know, more than half of them were in attendance by their own will and the other half wasn't too pale and sickly to care.

Puck sat not far off in a tree, watching with approval as Finn brought in Artie, his wheelchair in the back of Puck's truck, into the glade as well. That was the last of them, ten in total. Ten. Puck shook his head, the twist of fear in his stomach a rapid acquaintance. Had it been months already, since he'd been pacing in his room, Finn shaking his head and staring numbly at the wall, trying to decide just what he was going to do?

"Puck," Finn's voice was strained in the night and he recognized the jumpy pattern his steps took as his body began to crave the change. Of course. Sharing a wolf's mind, Finn Hudson's body language was an open book. Unsure and awkward on the dance floor showing his lack of confidence, a speed train when playing sports, his aggression finally being freed, and in the heart of the night when his wolf was begging for free rein, twitchy and impatient. Puck shook his head, crawling out from the bushes.

The group did not look good. Of the ten of them, three were tied up, two standing with arms crossed, and the rest slumped on the ground in various phases of misery. Puck felt a small wave of pity, remembering the laws he'd been taught.

Never going back. Only moving forward.

"Oh man," he sighed into his hand. Beside him, Finn twitched again. Puck almost wanted to punch him, remind him that now was not the time.

"I'm sorry." he said to the group. Dark, frightened, and lethargic eyes raised to him. "I really am. But you were all there, four months ago. You know what you are, and I'm here to tell you that is you have to be."

Quinn, straining against the bonds on her wrists, screamed insults over the tape on her mouth. Both Finn and Puck hung their heads.

"It's sad. And it's difficult. I've been like this all my life, I was born this way, and Finn's been like it for years. There's no reversing it, no cure, and half of our lives will now be spent ignoring the constant need to break free. It's not entirely good, it's not entirely bad, and you all need to shift as soon as possible. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but it did."

"And if we don't?" Mercedes asked. She was one of the ones who came willingly, though Puck could smell the fear and sweat coming off of her. Smart, intuitive Mercedes, she probably already knew the answer.

Puck nodded at Finn who, still squirming like he had to pee, went over and took Kurt's hand. The younger brunette was slumped against a tree stump, skin ashy and eyes blank. Puck had never been a fan of Hummel, but his skill against the change and blatant survival impressed him. From what Puck knew, the countertenor probably couldn't even stand on his own anymore.

"Then you end up like Hummel here. The wolf is taking you down, growing inside of you, it needs to get out, needs to sustain itself. It's taking your life, your energy, all it needs because it can't live on its own. It has to come out. Has to be born. Or else..." He couldn't make himself say it.

"You die." Finn finished, head low.

"This is crazy," Santana snapped. She, of course, also came of her own will and concern for Brittany, who was curled in a ball on the ground and shivering. Puck whined for her. He liked Brittany, in that pet hamster kind of way. When she had her pelt, Puck knew she would be stunning.

"I know it is. I've grown up thinking that. But there is no other choice."

Sam, hog tied on the ground next to a very pale Tina, began to buck and squirm. Puck knew there would be some, rebels and fighters, who would try to keep their humanity as long as possible. Puck had tried that as well, waiting for the last moments, clinging to every hope that the bites weren't strong enough. But they were, and now it had to be done.

"How." Mike Chang asked, eyes staring blankly ahead. He'd been obedient and quiet, so he was merely bound at the wrists. Puck shook his head. He'd been thing this for seventeen years, words failed him. Once again, he motioned for Finn.

"It...it doesn't hurt too bad." Finn began, and Puck shook his head. Not a good place to start. "You just sort of, feel it. It wants to get out and you say...okay. Yes. And you let go. Once you say yes and commit, there's no turning back. You just have to go for it. Just..."

He closed his eyes, letting his body fall forward. It landed with a light thump, and a second later Finn Hudson was no more, and a large canid stood in his place. Much like Finn it was tall, with long legs and a gentle face. Its fur was soft and white, dappled with black spots. It's eyes, big and yellow, looked mournfully at the rest of the gathered teens. It stepped gently out of Finn's sweater and jeans and sat, watching.

"We're not actual wolves," Puck pointed out. "Like some...sub species, having to do with our...I don't know, genetic makeup or whatever. I don't know, I'm not a scientist. All I know is that if you're in pain now, changing will make it better. And if you're not yet, well, just do it. It'll help sooner than you know."

Puck was about to go on, but was interrupted by a scream and a moan, a wail coming from the direction of Rachel Berry. His head shot up, in care or fear or curiosity he did not know. In the shadow of the tall pines, Rachel was squirming, whining, choking. Puck could see how sick the creature inside was making her, and silently cheered her on. Finn was at her side in a nanosecond, whining and pressing his cold black nose into her rapidly distorting palm.

She was fighting it, plain as day. She rolled n the ground, face scrunched up, legs kicking. Already the wolf was pushing out, but control freak Rachel was having none of it. At the sight of her, skin taking on the color of her fur, tail starting to build up from her back, Puck craved his own change. How tempting one form could be at this point was torture. But he wouldn't change. Not yet. Some sort of responsibility kept him human.

Finally, Puck watched as Rachel let go, a strangled cry braking free from her lips. He gasped, her entire body tensing before going limp, and growing out of it a fine wolf, pelt white and matted with brown patches.

For a second she only sat, shivering as she came to terms with the fact. She jumped a little as she stood, wavering and shaky as a newborn colt, but slowly seemed to gain control of the situation. She wined a little and buried her face into Finn's neck, and he quietly licked her head.

Puck didn't have to say anymore. Rachel had always been the Glee club's frontrunner, and after she stood and nodded at Puck and the rest of the group, he could see their resolve growing.

"What's it like?" Brittany asked. Puck raised an eyebrow, not thinking her well enough to compose speech. He shrugged a little at the unfamiliar question.

"The wolf...the wolf is you. It's just an addition to you. You still have all your thought and memories, but there's just more...wolf. I don't know, there aren't really words."

Quinn spat something above her tape. Puck didn't meet her eyes. Not far off, Finn whined, nudging Kurt with his nose, then going over to Tina. Those two, with the addition of Rachel, Brittany, and Artie were the sick ones. They were the ones who needed to shift fast.

"Kurt," Puck said because he thought for whatever reason that the smaller boy might take orders from him, "You're next."

Kurt, even at death's door, turned his eyes away. That subtle motion triggered a gag though, and he collapsed on the ground with thin tears breaking from his eyes. He didn't even have to say it. He couldn't do it.

Puck, in no mood, just shrugged. He was ready to spit 'Fine, die then,' but Mercedes beat him, coming to Kurt's aid. She took his hand in her own and gave it a light kiss. She was scared too.

"C'mon Kurt, you can't leave me as a Werewolf alone. You need to do this."

Kurt shuddered, lips parting but letting out no sound. Mercedes shook her head, holding onto him tighter.

"Nuh-uh, white boy. Come on now, I'm gonna do it first, okay? And then when you see how fabulous I am, you're gonna have to do it too. Is that clear?"

Kurt managed a nod, the effort making him shiver.

"All right then."

Mercedes stood, stretching lightly. Puck nodded in her direction, proud to have at least one strong one in the group.

At least until the wolf broke free, and she was just a shaking mass of skin and fur on the ground.

It didn't take as long as Rachel, her movements smoother and stronger. Within a matter of seconds the wolf was up, body tall and strong, long black tail held high. At first glance, her fur was only stark black, the colors of shadows at midnight. But as she moved through the moonlight to come to Kurt's side, smaller, light brown stripes could be seen adorning her pelt. She was stunning, and she knew it.

Pausing to give Puck the coldest glare she could muster, Mercedes stepped up to Kurt, noising his neck and nudging his face. Kurt shuddered, trying to inch away. Puck couldn't take it any longer.

"Come on Hummel. If you don't do this, she will literally kill me."

Mercedes snorted in agreement.

Kurt swallowed audibly, lips smacking together as he worked, not to shift, but to remove a jacket from his body. Puck didn't say anything, just tugged the jacket from Kurt's body and folded it neatly next to him.

Puck wasn't sure Hummel would even survive the change, but once he got rolling, he made it obvious enough that he was gonna try. His legs began to kick and he gagged, lurching so hard as the wolf was finally gratified. After managing to gag up nothing, Kurt settled for whining in fear as his body bucked and twisted, taking on a light, caramel-esque shade of bonze, accented with deeper, darker hues. His body was molted and fascinating, no doubt amazing. And even his eyes were not the stationary yellow, but a yellow-y orange color Puck had no name for.

Only Hummel.

After shifting, Kurt sat in a quivering mass for ages. Puck couldn't stand the idea of Kurt dying after all this, and went over himself to make sure he wasn't seizing on the ground. He wasn't, just shaking and whining, eventually getting to his feet as Mercedes brushed her body against his. He still looked sickly and weak, but rapidly bettering.

The next change caught Puck off guard, coming with a strangled cry at the far end of the glade. Puck, so caught up in making sure Hummel was alive, didn't even hear Sam's bones begin to crunch. He was only over in time to see Sam shake out a second later, canid body big and muscular, the first to really match Puck's own. His fur was long and golden, and his eyes matched smartly. None of that really mattered though, as the bonds on his wrists and legs were going to cut off access to the new paws he needed.

Puck finished with Sam quickly, grabbing his pocketknife and sawing off the bonds, leaving Sam staring dumbly around. Sam had been skeptical since moment one, and the shock of this actually happening to him must have been insane. He didn't know what to expect from the blond, anger, rage, fear, but received none. Just a blank stare.

He couldn't care for long, of course. Things were moving now, events taking place in rapid fire. Not far off, Brittany grasped Santana's hand as the Latina girl begged her not to do it, but hopelessly losing out on the battle. Puck only wished he could sympathize with her fear. Instead he watched in a cold silence as Brittany arrived to her wolf form, a striking silver with darker gray overcoat around her back, and a gray mask just converging her eyes and muzzle. She was beautiful, and she was whining softly into Santana's neck.

The human girl fought, frowning and shaking her head, but Puck could see her bones stretching under her skin. She fought all the way through, taking a full three minutes to arrive to her canid form, lithe and strong, coat rusty red and black. She growled at Puck full heartedly, but Puck didn't care. And judging by the way Brittany was licking at her gently, the other girl didn't mind either.

Next to go was Mike, who quietly asked to be freed before sliding, almost dancing, into the stark gray coat of his other form. Puck didn't know a body could be so proportioned as his, and it was truly befitting the way he moved, fluidly with long steps and graceful approach.

Mike found Tina, who was in a ball on the ground. When she cried, it wasn't out of fear, but anger.

"I've heard of your kind, Noah Puckerman," She spat. "I always vowed to avoid scum like you. I was after a vampire for a lifemate. Now I'll never have that."

Puck avoided widening his eyes. Vampires were real?

But Mike was being so gentle, his long pointed muzzle nudging her sickly form, taking her hand in his teeth and gently squeezing. Tears still falling from her cold eyes, she rolled onto her stomach. After a few seconds of gagging and bucking, a white wolf, brandished with dark black blotches including a raccoon's mask over the eyes, stared icily back at Puck.

Naturally, Artie should have been next. He'd been placed closely to Tina, despite their lack of feelings. That didn't stop him from staring at her though, shaking his head and crossing his arms. After a moment's hesitation, he forced the words through his lips.

"What will happen to me?"

He looked down, gently gesturing towards his legs. Puck felt his stomach clench in the night's first real pity.

"It won't fix you." Puck said, watching the small bubble of hope bursting behind the skinny boy's eyes. "The body just adjusts to changes, scars you have in one body go to the other. You still won't be able to run."

"But..." Artie's voice was weak, and not just with sickness. Fear held him tightly, refusing to let go. "Will it hurt?"

Puck didn't pretend he had an answer. He thought of the dull pain that went with the shift. There was always so much adrenaline, it all happened so fast and the brain couldn't even keep up with the rest of the body, it never was more than the feeling of light pain, the equivalent of falling down on the sidewalk or running into something stationary. But Artie, the change grappling his body and taking on the ghost nerves in his legs, Puck didn't know.

"You have to try." Was all Puck answered, looking away.

Artie was shaking. He looked down and shook his head and muttered 'no, no, no,' over and over again. He looked up a little as Tina sat near him, breathing softly atop his head. Mike was there too, gaze soft and encouraging. Then Mercedes was there, nuzzling him gently, and Kurt walked over as well, strong enough now to sit and nod.

And even though these were only grossly disproportioned wolves with impossible pelts, it was enough. It was enough to make him remove his glasses and his hand warmers, close his eyes and do as Finn had instructed.

And it hurt. Oh yes, it hurt. The spine caught itself, wrecked and broken and wrong, and struggled to find a second shape. The wolf under Artie's skin must've been stumped, because he sat in agonizing limbo for minutes, shaking and screaming and clawing at the air. Eventually Tina couldn't look anymore and averted her eyes, and Mercedes did the same. Kurt only stared, horror on his face clear, until Mike blurred the view with his long gray tail.

And eventually he was wolf. A trembling, sick, weak wolf. His front legs scrabbled at the ground and his back legs and tail sat limp. But he was alive, and he'd made it. Puck could only hold onto the vaguest of hopes that as time went on, the young tan and black wolf would get used to the pains of going back and forth. It would be a struggle, but if anyone was used to overcoming struggle, it was Artie.

And then it was only Quinn.

As the balance of human to wolf shifted, Quinn had sat in stoic silence, watching with hard hazel eyes, never commenting, never showing a trace of emotion. She kept it up right up until Puck removed the silver tape from her mouth.

"This is sick." She spat. "You're all sick."

"And so are you." Puck replied.

"No. I won't do it. I won't become one of those..things."

"Then you'll die."

"Fine."

"Quinn."

"I'm not doing it!" Quinn spat. "I'm not a wolf or a dog or whatever the hell you want to call it! I'm Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader! I can't make myself like that!"

"Well you have too!" Puck growled, patience slipping away. The feelings Puck had for Quinn were complicated and many, and they all felt jumbled and messy as he tried not to rip her throat out. "Because I'm not gonna lose any of you, and if I was, I would never choose you. You need to do this."

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"Because I said so." Because, apparently, death wasn't enough.

"That's not a reason." Quinn growled. For the first time, Puck noticed the tinge to her skin, pale, the smell of her sweat, sickly. The wolf was eating her up, just as bad as the others. Far be it for Quinn to show weakness.

"It's reason enough, now change!"

"No, you can't make me!"

"I know that, but you need to make you!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't shifted since Beth was born!"

Puck could have sworn the crickets stopped chirping. The night slowed to a stop, and the small grassy glade spun like a Hanukkah dradel. His mind grasped for words, feelings, anything to describe what he was going through. When he resurfaced, he only found one word.

"What."

"That night, you dumbass. When I got pregnant, you bit me. Yes, deep enough, yes, strong enough. At first I thought it was just weird pregnancy stuff, but I found out it wasn't. I found out what you made me, Noah Puckerman. One night, in the middle of puking my brains out, there I was. A wolf. And you never even figured it out, never even cared."

"But...the smell." Puck thought of her scent, slightly wolfy, the smell he'd always blamed as Beth, or his nose playing tricks. Anything but...

"I'm so sorry."

"I was pregnant, and a werewolf, and you never cared. And now you want me to do this like it's some sacred thing? You get all of us together and try to be so responsible? Who do you think you are?"

Puck had no answer for her, nothing that even came close. He could only flinch as the gaze of ten wolves and one human trained on him in disgust.

"I'm so sorry." he whispered again. "I didn't know. I didn't think. I was so caught up in the baby thing, in...in life, it never occurred to me. I never meant to do this to you."

"Yeah, I figured that."

"But you're sick. The pregnancy hormones probably kept your wolf quiet for this long, but you're just as bad as the rest of them. And I know you're mad, and you have every right to be, but you need to shift."

Quinn's eyes, brimming with tears, never left Puck's as she sighed into the skin of a petite, muscular, silvery gray wolf. And as he cut the ties and watched her go, joining the rest of the pack, he never stopped his mantra of 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

He faced them now, all eleven of them. And they watched him, faces hard. Some were still afraid, others didn't exactly look like it was the end of the world. Puck could only look at them with an infinite apology.

"This is your life now." He told them. "This is part of you. Eventually, your wolf will be satisfied and you can change back, but it will be bittersweet. You can fight it, you can hide from it, but this is you now. This is us."

And they were an us. They were a group of teenagers that were close, filled with tight bonds and love and never-ending drama. They were, as a dictionary could put it, a group of people, or werewolves, with a common purpose. At once, it had been singing. If they so chose, it still could be. But now that purpose was stronger, smarter. Because Puck knew they wouldn't have died, had they waited longer. The wolf would have just won, pushing itself out, whether the host liked it or not.

But Puck had grown up alone. When he'd gotten Finn at twelve, he'd had the first chance at seeing how together, so much more could have been accomplished. And though he'd never wish this on his worst enemies, Puck knew there was no way for them to survive alone. They were misfits now. Freaks. And the only way for them to make it was to stay together.

Puck fell to all fours, his bark-brown fur and narrow strip of black fur along the base of his spine shimmering in the moonlight. This wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be fun. And as the moon began to descend in the night sky, he lifted his muzzle to the night for something they all would know. A slow, sad song. His low tones soaring, combined with Finn's howl, strong and unique. Rachel's, trained and sharp even in wolf skin, and Mercedes big booming notes. Kurt's high keening whine, Sam's low groveling, Santana and Brittany's sweet moans, Mike's broken, choppy howl, Tina's mournful song, Artie's strong bellow, and finally, Quinn's straight, sharp barks. Their voices raised into the night, proclaiming exactly what they were now.

Maybe had been on to something.

Being a part of this special group surely made every member special, human skin or not.

So yeah, you enjoy that. C: If people actually like this, you crazies, I might write out a few anecdotes for the fun of it, just because the plot bunnies are everywhere. So tell me what you thought! Remember, this crawled out of my brain at 1 am, so if some things are off-kilter or character's aren't written to their full potential, I apologize. I mean, it's a werewolf glee story, so...whatchagunnado.