Rating – M for Horror-type Violence, and the things that go with that.

Pairing – House – Wilson friendship. No slash.

Categories - Horror, Supernatural, Angst, Hurt-Comfort, Adventure

Disclaimer – Bwhahahaha, seriously? Nope, not mine, but dude, do I ever wish.

Any OC's though, those are products of my alcoholic muse, who just returned from a jog to Tijuana...

Also, I don't own Being Human, even if this isn't a crossover. More like inspired by, but wanted to get that out of the way, just in case

Summary – Total AU horror fic. More details to be found inside. House and Wilson are living in the world of humanity, trying to save what's left of theirs. Will they succeed, or will darkness over come them both?

A/N -

Long story short, you can blame this one on the crazy and vivid dreams I had after watching House and Being Human back to back last night right before bed. This is a horror fic, and a product of my overactive imagination. Things will be explained as I go on. This mainly focuses on House and Wilson, but it is not slash at all. Just friendship. Thanks for indulging me on this one. It's kinda like James Wilson, P.I., and Moving On, just a chance for me to stretch my imagination a little, it's off kilter, and not like my standard Huddy fics at all. Also, there might be little Huddy in it, but not like you would like, so if you only like my Huddy fic, you might want to skip this one :)

It also might be a little gory, as well as violent, at times. Perhaps not for the fainthearted.

Thanks, and, if it's your thing, enjoy -

Cursed By Night

Even a man who's pure
And says his prayers by night
(He won't hear your prayers)
May become a wolf

When the wolf bane blooms,
And the autumn moon is bright
(There's a full moon tonight)
Man may become a wolf.

~ Wolf - Iced Earth, Horror Show

It was a typical spring night in Princeton. A relatively warm breeze stirred in the cool air, a harbinger of summer's imminent arrival. A bright, full moon hung over the city in a cloudless sky, illuminating all in its pale, silver glow. In a large park, on the edge of the city, the shadows of the trees stretched like skeletons in the bright light. It was quiet in this area of the city, the houses stretched farther apart on larger plots surrounding the large expanse of woodland. A handful of deer who had made themselves at home rustled in the groves of oak, elm, maple, and poplar, the branches only just starting to bud. A few owls hooted in the trees, welcoming the warmer weather, and the easier hunting summer would bring. Other nocturnal animals stirred, rooting around in the trees and shrubs. A small creek wound its way through the few acres of woods, the churning water slightly swollen from the melt of the last snow, just a mere week before.

Somewhere in the dark streets near the refuge, a car door slammed, echoing in the quiet night, even though the sounds of the city weren't that far off, though they were muffled by the foliage. The park itself was a haven for other nocturnal activities, usually of the illicit human kind. Flesh and vice and pleasure were usually bartered for under the branches of the silent trees, away from watching eyes. Drug dealers and pimps had made their home here, hidden from the prying eyes of law enforcement that prowled the dark alleyways of the city.

A figure sat on the edge of a stonework bride that crossed the the ink black water of the creek, the water highlighted sparkling silver in the bright moon light. He hated the full moon; there was too much light, made it too easy to see. He shivered a little, the air still chill, reminding him that winter wasn't too far behind them; the weather man on channel eight was calling for snow in the next week. He sniffed the air, smelling wet earth and bark, a far cry from the rancid smells of the city; of exhaust and rusted metal, and urine soaked alleyways. He sneezed, and decided he hated nature. It was too clean, too quiet. He jumped at the sound of raccoons chittering as they chased each other across the bridge, and he turned up his coat collar, shivering a little. His man better get here fast, because places like this gave him the creeps.

Bored, he picked up a few pebbles that had come loose from the bridge, or had been tracked there from the people that ventured into the park during the day; he didn't know which. He rolled the small stones around in his hand, not feeling their texture through the smooth dark leather gloves he wore. Snorting a little, he checked his watch – two minutes after midnight. His man was late. He decided he'd give the man eight more minutes before he left; the park gave him the creeps. He didn't know why, but it did. It was quiet, so very quiet. The trees loomed over him, sinister and dark. Every sound seemed to echo in the night, louder and stretched. Unfamiliar hoots and calls reverberated among the trees and shrubs, causing his heart to beat faster, and sweat began to bead on his forehead, despite the cool, crisp air. Every noise seemed to occur in time with the beating of his heart, and the trees seemed to close in around him, trapping him within their borders.

"Mac? You okay, man?" A familiar voice broke the spell of the woods, breaking his claustrophobia.

With a sigh, and a small, weak smile, he turned to face his man, who was standing at the threshold of the stone bridge. "Yeah, Eddie, I'm fine. I just hate this place. Mother nature and all that shit," he grinned sheepishly. "Give me asphalt and exhaust fumes any day of the week."

"Ya, I hear dat." Eddie looked around at the canopy of just budding branches hovering above them, his dark, greasy hair hanging in his equally dark eyes. "Dis place gives me da creeps, ya know." He shrugged, then stepped out on the bridge. "Youse gots da stuff?"

The man nodded, and reached into his pocket. "Ya," A quick transaction, and a few things changed hands so rapidly, that one idly watching would have seen more than a handshake. Eddie flipped the collar up on his coat, and he looked around, hunching down, making sure that no one could see what was going on. "You gonna be okay, Mac?"

Mac nodded. "Same as last time?" he asked, glancing around the woods nervously.

Eddie nodded. "Ya. Stick 'round here for a few more, an' let me clear outta here. Dat ways, we don't get no suspicion, eh?" He gave Mac a wry smile, when, truth be told, he just wanted to get out of the park, too. Mac wasn't the only one who didn't like the feel of the woods.

"Yeah," Mac agreed, reluctantly, glancing around at the empty, lonely woods. "Got it."

"Cool," Eddie glanced around again, the stepped off the bridge, his boots scuffing along the worn, flat, smooth stones of the path. The foot steps were a reassuring guard against the dark emptiness of the woods at night. An owl hooted in the trees, its call long and forlorn. Mac checked his watch, giving Eddie ten minutes to clear out. Only a handful of precious seconds had ticked past, and Mac swallowed his fear. It wasn't anything he could but his finger on, just an icy hand that grabbed his bowels and squeezed hard once Eddie was out of sight and hearing.

A ragged howl broke through the woods, and Mac felt his hair stand up on end and his eyes grow wide. Were there wolves in this park? He tried to think hard, but he didn't know that much about nature. He reached inside his jacket, and he pulled out his piece, clicking the safety off. He glanced around the splashes of shadow and silver caused by the bright full moon, it now seeming as bright as the noon day sun, except there was no color; everything was bathed in shades of gray, from the whitest silver to the darkest charcoal black. He tried to peer past the tree trunks, into the darkness that lay just behind, but he couldn't see anything. His hands gripped the edge of the crumbling stone railing peering out farther, over the creek and beyond, thinking he saw something move...

The piercing scream that echoed over the tree tops hit him like a knife to the gut. His eyes went wide, and he whirled around, tightening his grip on the cold gun in his hand. "Eddie," he called. "You okay?" He took a few steps towards the end of the bridge, when he heard the warbling scream again, and this time, it was accompanied by a gut wrenching howl. His heart was hammering so hard, he thought it was going to breakthrough his ribcage. He turned around and he made to run away from what ever the thing was that was howling, the opposite direction that Eddie had headed in.

What stopped him was a tall, gaunt figure standing at the edge of the bridge. The man wore a long, dark coat, and he had his hands in his pockets. The cool breeze stirred the coat, causing the bottom hem to swirl around the man's calves, giving Mac the impression of an Old West gunfighter. "Who the fuck are you, man?" Mac managed to call out, nervously glancing over his shoulder. The screams and howls had died down, but that didn't reassure him. He was convinced that whatever it was that had howled was now going to come his way, and he was determined to put as much space as need be between himself and it, whatever it was.

"I wouldn't worry about that," the man spoke, the light spring breeze ruffled his peppered hair, the moonlight reflecting off of the gray. His voice was smooth and cold, like the water that rushed over the stones in the creek.

"What...what do you mean?" Mac moved his finger over the trigger of the gun, even though his hand was shaking violently. Something about the man standing a few yards in front of him sent chills up his spine, and his voice was like ice water trickling down the back of his neck, freezing him. "You a narc?" Mac spat, with more bravado than he felt.

"A narc?" the man laughed. "Do I look like a narc?" He smiled, a flash of pearl white teeth that shone bright in the moonlight. "You're really a moron, you know, and the way your hand is shaking, I'd be more concerned if you were aiming a few feet off to the side."

"A moron, huh?" Mac grinned weakly. "You're the one who's starin' down the barrel of my gun." His hand still shaking, he aimed the gun directly at the man, who simply stood there, his head cocked slightly to one side, seemed to silently taunt him. Mac, who had been feeling at edge and ill at ease all night, finally felt the tension in him grow too taut, and it escaped in one twitch of a muscle in his finger. As the gun barked at the man on the bridge, Mac closed his eyes, wincing with the release.

Breathing hard, he cracked open one eye, and he saw nothing. He opened both eyes, staring at the now empty spot as his ears rang with the echo of the gunshot. Hesitantly, he moved forward, his finger still on the trigger, the muzzle pointed at the now empty spot. Puzzled when he moved to the spot, he lowered the barrel. Breathing heavily, he panted aloud, "where the hell did he go. No one can move that fast," he muttered, his chest rising and falling heavily as he looked wildly around.

A rustle came from behind him, but before he could turn around, powerful hands seized him, rendering him unable to move. "It's all a matter of perception," the voice breathed into his ear, hot. He felt himself shiver with fear for one last time, before he felt something stab him in the neck. His muscles froze, and then, he felt nothing.

The sun was just beginning to make its ascent in the east, but the moon had sunk down below the horizon, bathing the world in a dark gray gloom. Stars were still scattered across the sky as if released from a net, but the orange glow from the nearby city prevented most of them from being seen. Dr. James Wilson staggered naked into the small clearing that led to a well sheltered entrance to the park, far away from prying eyes. A dark blue sedan sat in a dark corner, and Wilson, still shaking, ran his fingers through his rumpled hair; he could never know if he could depend on his friend or not. With a small, jittery sigh of relief, he made his way over to it.

"You're late," came the droll voice of the driver as soon as Wilson opened the passenger side door, the man's dark hair now sprinkled liberally with gray. Wilson groaned as he slid into the upholstered seat, already uncomfortable with his nakedness. The driver wordlessly reached into the back seat, and he produced a long beige rain coat. "You always lose your clothes," he snorted, starting the ignition, turning his head to give Wilson a tiny bit of privacy as he tried to put the coat on. "You suck at being a werewolf, you know."

"That's because I always end up far away from where I left them," he grumbled, sleepily, struggling to put on the rain coat in the close confines of the car. "I suppose I should be grateful that you remembered to bring something extra, this time." He glared at his companion. "And you're one to talk. The vampire who can move in daylight."

"Bram Stoker lied." His friend turned to grin at him, now that he was covered by the long coat.

Wilson tightened the belt, his head bowed and his forehead was furrowed with the effort. The driver paused, then touched his face with one long, pale finger. "What?" Wilson asked, confused. He flipped the visor down to stare at his reflection in the mirror. "Was I hurt?"

"That's impossible, and you know that," The driver put his finger in his mouth, sucking on it slightly.

"Mmm, tasty," he sighed, setting back in his seat. "He had a burger and fries right before he died."

"You can taste that in the blood?" Wilson asked, feeling both impressed and horrified, and a little sick at the gesture.

The driver grinned slightly, "yeah. Cool, isn't it." He put the car in drive, and, in silence, they drove to a hotel near downtown. The events of the night weighed heavy on them both, but neither of the spoke of it. Wilson wearily rested his head on the cool glass of the door's window, watching the buildings blur as they drove past them. He was hungry and thirsty, and he'd do anything to wash the rancid taste out of his mouth. He was dreading going into work; he knew he looked like hell, but he couldn't call in. It looked like he was going to be practically mainlining coffee all day.

They pulled up in front of a tall, rectangleish building. "When are you going to get your own place." House asked out of the blue. "I know you're still moping around after Julie left -"

"She's still convinced that I was having an affair," he mumbled bleakly.

"Just because you disappear during the nights of the full moon?" his friend huffed. "Your wife is a moron."

"She was the one having the affair." Wilson ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I know I cheated on Sam, and Bonnie..." He sighed. "Besides, I don't even want to think about what a conversation that would be -"

"It would be easy. 'Hi honey, I turn into a shaggy, smelly, horney, hungry beast every twenty-eight days, just like you.'"

He gave his friend a blank look. "You're an ass, House."

His friend smirked at him. "I know." Then he groaned, as if some sort of realization struck him.

"Cuddy's got me on double clinic duty this week." He rubbed his own face with his hands.

"Not going to give you enough time for snack breaks," Wilson pointed out.

"Bite me, Wolfy," House shot back. He gave Wilson one of penetrating looks, momentarily flashing his fangs, and Wilson bit his lip at the sight.. Daylight was hard on House, even if he didn't burst into flames like the movies.

"You first, Blood Sucker," he replied, with forced chipper. The two friends looked at each other, then grinned. "Thanks for the ride, House." He opened the door and he started to climb out.

"You owe me, Shaggy." House countered. Even through the thick, dark lenses of the sunglasses he wore, even at night, Wilson could feel the intensity of his stare. "I'm trying to stay on the wagon," he said in a low, confidential tone.

Wilson froze. "I know." He stared at the brightening sky. "We'll talk about this later."

House jerked his head in one quick nod. Wilson shut the door, and the dark blue sedan rattled down the road. He took a deep breath, before heading up to his room, drawing a few suspicious looks from the desk clerk and the security guard in the lobby. House had told him their thoughts once, during one of the few times that he had accompanied Wilson to his room, and he still flushed with embarrassment at the thought. He supposed it made more sense than how he turned into a wolf once a month, but still, the thought that House was his boyfriend, that was just ridiculous.

He made it to his room, and while he was physically exhausted, his mind was still racing. Here, alone in the small room, he was alone with his thoughts and memories, and they threatened to overwhelm him. Guilt weighed heavily on him, as heavily as the curse that left him a drooling, hulking monster once a month. A quick glance at the clock told him he didn't have enough time to lay in bed for a while until it was time to get ready. With a groan, he stepped into the bathroom, and he turned the water on to its hottest setting, hoping to scald away the scents and guilt that seemed to collect on his skin. He closed his eyes, and he allowed the hot water to wash over him, hoping that it would take away the horrific memories he had made that night.

Unfortunately, that was just wishful thinking.

Another quick note -

I now have my own site. Feel free to check it out.

forums(dot)delphiforums(dot)com(/)TWCFanFic(/)start (psst, yeah, take out the parentheses to get it to work ;-) Oh, and replace the dots with, well, dots ;-) )

Also, I post bonus stuff there that I don't post anywhere else. Just letting y'all know :-D