Relapse to Instinct

Chapter 31

John let his shoulders slump as his father strode away, sweeping his free hand through sandy locks and heading back into the house.

Upon walking through the gate to the garden, he was near bowled over by a huge white blur, the resulting face wash both disturbing and amusing him.

"Jazz! Get off of me you great twit!" Tail swinging side to side in ecstasy, the werewolf watched him even as he did as John said, blue-green eyes shining with mirth.

Behind his friend, he found Blake laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face, and one look at John's pissed off features only worsened it.

"Oh, piss off, Blake." Despite the conversation with his dad having gone surprisingly well, John was really starting to feel the aches and pains throughout his body, and it was getting dark, so he thoughthe should probably just go to bed.

His brother sobered up quickly, an apologetic look fixed onto his face, "I'm sorry, Johnny. You go get some rest. Would you mind if borrowed Jazz for the evening though? I'm sure Kate would love to meet him..."

At John's raised eyebrow, Blake added, "I'lltell Prue and mum you're home and everything."

Well, when he offered that...

' Sorry, Jazz. Looks like you're gonna be meeting Blake's girlfriend. Be nice?'

Jazz growled softly in response, 'I'm tired too y'know. Can' say I'll play nice, bu' I won' bite anyone... Hard anyway.'

Rolling his eyes as he continued up into the house, John ignored Jazz's annoyance, making a beeline for his bedroom and only getting the chance to remove the knife from his belt before collapsing upon the huge king-sized bed.

Sunlight filtering in through the curtains woke him the next morning, and, groaning, John remembered that he'd never shut them, nor changed.

Deciding that he wouldn't be able to stay in bed any longer, he collected a towel and headed into his en-suite bathroom for a hot shower, only just remembering to cover the cast as he went.

As he washed, he allowed his mind to wander, but all thoughts screeched to a halt when he realised Jazz wasn't in his room.

Panicking, John finished off in the shower and dressed himself hurriedly, scanning his room for any signs of the eccentric werewolf.

' Jazzzzzzzzz!' He definitely wasn't in his room, so he raced downstairs, thinking that maybe his friend would have found the plush rug in the lounge and camped out on it.

...No such luck.

Mind spinning, John began racing around the house calling out Jazz's name. He'd woken late and so the rest of the family hadalready begun their day-to-day lives, everyone bar Blake and himself having gone to work.

Blake.

His immediate elder brother had 'borrowed' Jazz last night. However, upon glancing intoBlake's bedroom, he found that neither was in there.

' Damn...'

Leaning backwards against the wall, John slumped down it, hanging his head and glaring at the royal blue carpet. What if Kieran was already here and had caught them? Jazz was probably exhausted, and he wasn't as powerful as Kieran anyway, John wanted to be there to help when it came timefor the showdown.

The sound of the front door slamming shut snapped John out of the little dark hole of misery he'd found himself backing into, andhe nearly fell down the stairs in his effort to reach the front door.

What he found made him sag in relief.

Blake stood there; sodden from the rain outside, but looking as cheery as he always did after he'd spent a night at his girlfriends.

' Wait. Blake spent the night at his girlfriends... Oh crap. Poor Jazz.'

The giggle wasn't easy to stifle, especially not after seeing Jazz's very angry mood through his wet, dripping fur.

He called Jazz's name, beckoning him upstairs, but the wolf ignored him, instead opting to follow Blake into the grand kitchenwhere he was tossed a few slices of bread and yesterday's chicken for breakfast.

Blake whistled happily, throwing John a wave as he followed them into the kitchen, and set about making his own breakfast.

"Hungry, John?"

Shaking his head negatively in response, he watched as Blake shrugged and began rummaging through cupboards and drawers.

They stayed like that for a while: John leaning against the doorway, and the only sounds being Jazz munching and Blake whistling and rustling bags.

It was the quiet yip from Jazz that broke John's attention.

Jazz moved over to him with a whine, the angry look being replaced by a sad, slightly pained one, his large, colourful eyes pleading with John. 'Can we get some privacy, like, now?'

John nodded carefully at the werewolf, interrupting Blake's oblivious whistling witha 'see you later', and leading Jazz out of thekitchen and upstairs to his room.

Once they got there, he looked at his friend,who had hunkered down slightly on his haunches and had his tail tucked between his legs, shivering, head drooped low to the ground.

"Jazz? What is it?"

Jazz whined in response, although it was morphed into a yelp as his body twitched violently.

Concerned, John dropped to his knees beside the wolf, touching his head gently.

"Jazz?" He queried softly, and again, getting no reply.

Another violent jerk caused Jazz to trip forwards so that he had his head pressed toJohn's chest. Trying not to think of how awkward he felt, John continued to gently pet his friend's soft head, ignoring the way his clothes were getting soaked, staying quiet as Jazz panted beneath his hand.

The jerks continued for a while, steadily worsening, and beneath his hand John could feel the hair lengthening and see the pointedears shrinking and morphing in shape.

In fact, Jazz's whole body was changing slowly back to human.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably no longer than half an hour, Jazz was curled up in front of him, shaking and clutching the front of John's shirt desperately.

"Jazz?" John repeated, stopping the petting and attempting to pry the other's hands looseof his shirt.

"Owww." The voice was quiet and rough as Jazz continued to pant for breath, loosening his hold and curling into himself instead.

John pushed himself up from where they'd settled, throwing a towel onto the floor next to Jazz and moving into the bathroom to draw his friend a hot bath.

Once the bath was running, he turned back into his room to see that Jazz had covered himself and had shuffled backwards to leanagainst the bed, trying to get his breathing under control again.

"You alright?" The question that was burning on his lips went something more along the lines of 'what the hell was that?' but he felt that asking it right now would beinsensitive. That had looked like it hurt.

Jazz threw his head back, pressing it into the soft mattress and answered silently, "I shouldn't have eaten that chicken."

John would have laughed at the lame joke, but Jazz did appear to be very pale. Instead he chose to tell him that there was a bath being drawn for him.

"Cheers, mate. I'm sorry, by the way."

John didn't ask what he was sorry for: it could have been his most recent horror show,or it could have been many other things that had happened over the past week.

"It doesn't matter, Jazz." He murmured, levering the other man to his unsteady legs and guiding him through to the bathroom where he deposited him on the toilet lid.

Checking the bath, John turned off the taps and left the room, telling Jazz to call if he needed anything and to take as long as he needed.