By NeoBakeneko

 

A few moments after the bell rang, Ambrose remained at his desk.
“How long are you going to touch it?”
Ambrose looked up, “Excuse me?”
Zoë was staring back at him, eyebrow raised.  “Your chest.  You’ve been stroking it ever so gently all period.”
Ambrose looked down at his chest.  It was true, his hand rested lazily on the center of his shirt.  “Oh, uhm,” he cleared his throat, gathered his books and shoved them into his bag, “after yesterday I’ve been feeling really weird.”
“Gee, that just reinforces my belief that we should go see him.”
Ambrose sighed wearily, “For the last time Zoë I’m not going to go talk to the, the guest speaker in your class.”
”But he may know something.  You should hear what he talks about in class it’s—“
”Fairytales at best,” interrupted Ambrose.
Zoë jogged to keep up with him, “No.  We’ve talked about the stories that I’ve kept tabs on in relation to the meteor rocks and—“
Ambrose stopped walking and turned to face her, ”You think I’m infected with a meteor rock don’t you?”
Zoë hesitated for a second, “Well…it’s possible.  You said yourself ever since that tussle with that jock you’ve been feeling off.  And you told me last night on the phone that you found a sliver of meteor rock in the cut.”
”Yes.  But that does not mean I’m going to,” he glanced around the bustling hallway and lowered his voice, “that does not mean I’m going to mutate into something.”  As Zoë stumbled for the right words Ambrose turned and continued down the hall.  
She followed him to his locker, “Alright, if you’re so convinced that nothing could possibly be wrong with you—“
”I didn’t say nothing was wrong,” he said as he set his textbook neatly into it’s perspective place in his locker, “I said I wasn’t going to mutate.”
“Whatever.  If you’re so sure Ambrose, then what’s it to you to waste fifteen minutes?  He’s only going to be here ‘till the end of the week and I’m asking for fifteen minutes.”
He sighed, looked at Zoë, the floor, and then Zoë again, “Fine.  Fifteen minutes.”
“Yes!  Great.”
“I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, as he closed his locker.
“Alright meet me by the wall during lunch.”
”No, Zoë not the wall of weird.  It creeps,” he looked towards her but she was already halfway down the hall,  “me out…”

That afternoon Ambrose stood outside the school newspaper’s office.  He glanced at the large circle clock above the stairwell down the hall; Zoë was late.  “She’s just taking time out of her fifteen minutes,” he told himself.
”Pardon me,”
Ambrose turned to his right, where stood an older man, looked to be in his late twenties, holding a small briefcase.  “Is this The Torch?”
”It is,” answered Ambrose.
“Wonderful, thank you.”
”You’re welcome,” Ambrose said quietly as he watched the man walk past him and through the door.  The most striking feature about him wasn’t his light French accent, but his shock white hair and gray-blue eyes.  Ambrose was still wondering about him when Zoë showed up a few moments later.
“I’m sorry I’m late Ambrose,” she was trying to stuff several loose papers into her bag that was slowly sliding off her shoulder, “friggin’ last minute pop quiz and then Billy was cheating and then the lecture, yea, sorry, is he here?”
“Who?”
”The teacher, Ambrose,” she answered slightly annoyed, “the man you’re supposed to be talking to.”
”How should I know?  You never told me what he looks like.”
Zoë shook her head and went around Ambrose to push open the door, “He’s hard to miss.”
Ambrose followed her in, there were several students moving around and sitting at computers working on articles.  A young girl with short blonde hair came up to them, “Hey Zo, Duvert’s by your file cabinet.”
”Thanks Pam,” Zoë said with a nod as she maneuvered to the back.
”You have your own file cabinet?” asked Ambrose incredulously.
“I have a lot of news clippings.”
Ambrose chuckled lightly and was about to mention the white-haired man when Zoë turned to face him suddenly.  “Alright listen up, he’s a little eccentric but he knows his stuff.  So whatever he says, he’s probably right.”
”Okay….?”
”Don’t give me that tone Ambrose Maurlias, I know full well you come from a world where everything fits into its tight rigid space, but in the real world things are different.  And—“
”What do you—“
”and, don’t interrupt me mister, and out here, things are real different.”
”Why are you telling me this as though I don’t live in the real world?” he asked, slightly offended.
“Because Ambrose, you don’t.  I just, I want you to keep your mind open to different things.  I know you and I don’t want you to laugh at Sabin because he talks about things you don’t normally hear or talk about.”
Still feeling insulted Ambrose nodded in agreement.
“Good,” Zoë replied as she turned and continued to the back of the room.
”Uhm, Sabin, that’s his name?”
”Oh!  Right yea, yea it is.”  After squeezing between two very close desks, Ambrose and Zoë stood in front of her file cabinet, the wall of weird, and between the two, Mr. Duvert.
“Hello Zoë,” he said smiling.
‘Hi Sabin,” she turned to Ambrose, “this is Ambrose Maurlias, Ambrose this is Sabin Duvert.”
“We meet again,” said Ambrose as he leaned forward to shake Sabin’s hand.
“So it seems,” replied Sabin.
Zoë put her bag down beside the file cabinet, “You two have met?”
”Briefly,” answered Sabin.
“Which reminds me,” said Ambrose, “I can’t stay long.”
“That’s alright.  Zoë, is there somewhere we can all talk in privacy?”
”I doubt anyone would pay attention to us here anyway, but if you really want we can talk in the copy-closet over there.”
”Copy closet?” asked Sabin as he picked up his suitcase.
”Too small to be considered a room,” answered Zoë as she gestured in its direction, “go ahead.”
As Sabin walked away Ambrose turned to Zoë, “You’re on a first name basis with a teacher?”
“Sabin allows all his students to call him by his first name.  He considers us equals and if he’s going to address us by our first names he feels we should have the same right.  Okay?”
“Okay…” he said quietly and went in Sabin’s direction.

The word “closet” was polite.  The room was barely bigger than a bathroom stall, with several metal shelves along the right and back walls, a large copier along the left wall and a naked light bulb that hung from the ceiling.  Sabin was already in the room when Ambrose caught up with him, but the light was off.  As Ambrose stood in the doorframe, he blocked the only remnant of light.  He squinted as he stared at Sabin; there was something odd about him.  The kind of oddity you feel when you meet a person.  The moment of seeming entrancement was broken as Zoë pushed past him and pulled on the dangling string.  The light flickered on, but made little difference.
”Get in Ambrose,” Zoë gestured.
Ambrose lingered for a moment and glanced back at the open door behind him, “Should I…?”
”Don’t have to, no one really comes in here because it’s small and ‘creepy’.”
“Really?” asked Sabin as he stared up at a cobweb in the corner, “I find it to be rather cozy.”
Zoë laughed, “Yea a few drapes and candles and you’ve got a nice study,” she said with a light sarcasm.
”Oh yes,” Sabin nodded, looking at her, “candles are very nice.  They create a sort of atmosphere and mood that is lost with these light bulbs.”
Ambrose shifted his weight from one foot to another and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry Ambrose,” said Sabin, “you wanted to talk.”
“Actually it was Zoë’s idea.  I honestly don’t see what we have to talk about.”
”Oh…” his brow furrowed in confusion, he turned to Zoë, “…you didn’t tell him our theories?”
”Well, Ambrose can be pretty stubborn and I thought it be best if we tag-teamed him.”
“Ah, I see.”
”Theories on what?” asked Ambrose.
“Well,” Zoë started, “Sabin and I have been doing some reading and research and we’ve found that anyone exposed to meteor rock in extreme amounts,”
”Or, if it gets into your bloodstream,” added Sabin.
”Or if there’s a uhm- another factor a controlling factor of sorts,”
”like a catalyst,” said Sabin.
“Then a mutation to some degree is always the result.”
Ambrose raised his eyebrow, “And this has what to do with me?”
”Your cut Ambrose,” said Sabin.
Ambrose looked at Sabin then at Zoë, “You told him about that?”
”Yes, how else would we discuss and figure out all the factors Ambrose?”
Slightly flustered Ambrose sighed, “Okay, allow me to see if I understand what you’re saying.  If a meteor in some shape or form interacts with me in large quantities, or if it interacts with my blood there’s a reaction, and I’m going to mutate?”
”Think of it like an experiment of sorts,” said Sabin.
“Yea,” agreed Zoë, “the meteor substance is the controlling factor, you’re blood is the variable, and whatever happens to you is the product.”
”Not just the meteor rock,” added Sabin, “the wolf tooth as well.”
Ambrose glanced at Zoë then at Sabin, “Okay, so…the meteor sliver and wolf tooth are the controlling factors right?  And because it’s mixing with my blood I’m going to mutate?  Into what?”
”That’s what we don’t know yet Ambrose,” sighed Zoë.
“So, heh,” he chuckled, “we just wait and see?”
”I believe,” said Sabin, “whatever happens will have some sort of wolf-like result.”
“Oh.  Oh yes that makes perfect sense,” said Ambrose, “I’m going to wake up in the morning with a tail and a pair of fuzzy ears.”
“Perhaps,” said Sabin, “almost like a new-age …werewolf.”
Ambrose laughed, “You have got to be kidding me.”
Sabin sighed.
“Ambrose!” Zoë said with a reprimanding tone, “You promised you wouldn’t—“
”I’m sorry Zoë but this is a little more outlandish than I had thought it would be!”
Sabin picked up his suitcase and stepped forward, “It’s alright Zoë, it does sound a little extreme when you say it out loud.”
“But Sabin all the other cases—“
”It’s okay,” he said, then turned to Ambrose, “I was serious about the…werewolf possibility.  I have never personally met one but I have seen and experienced enough in my life to know anything is possible.  Tonight is a full moon.  I suggest you spend it with someone you love and trust.  Good day.”
Ambrose watched Sabin leave and stared at the empty doorway, refusing to look at Zoë.  He knew what she would say:
”What the hell was that Ambrose?”
He turned to her; her arms were crossed.  
“You tell me,” he replied, “I come in here and you two turn me into some sort of lab experiment.  He,” he waved his hand pasted the door, “suggest I’m going to turn into some sort of werewolf,”
“Lower your voice Ambrose.  You’re acting like a jerk.”
He sighed, “I’m sorry Zoë.  I gave him your fifteen minutes.  And I listened, but I never promised to believe it.  I just can’t.”
She uncrossed her arms, “Fine.  But Ambrose I don’t know how you expect to grow in a world that’s ever-changing if you can’t allow your views to skew even slightly.”  Without waiting for his response Zoë stretched up, turned off the light, and left the room; leaving Ambrose in the darkness.

Later that day Ambrose rushed out of his last period class and straight to his locker.  He quickly took the textbooks he needed for homework and studies, while tossing those he did not back in his locker.  It was Thursday.  Tuesdays and Thursdays were the only days Zoë didn’t stay after school to work with the Torch.  He wondered if she would still be there after the way he acted earlier.  Swinging his book bag onto his shoulder Ambrose made his way down the hall, down the stairs and to the broken water fountain across from the first floor bathrooms.  As he came out of the stairwell he couldn’t help but smile when he saw Zoë standing there.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he said as he came up to her.
“Can’t break tradition.”

As they walked through the streets in the cool November air they talked about class, the teachers, the homework, the tests, everything except what happened during lunch.  Ambrose had been sure Zoë was going to mention it, and when she hadn’t at first he felt relieved.  But the more they talked the more it felt awkward.  Zoë suddenly stopped walked, “Well, this is it.”
Ambrose looked up; they were at her house already.   “Oh, yea, it is.  Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yea.”
The two lingered for a moment more then Zoë sighed and turned away.  Just as Ambrose began to continue on his way she called him back.  
“Hmm?”
”Look, we’ve known each other since freshman year, and it’s not that long of a time yea, but I’d hate to see a year and a half of friendship go down the drain over a cut on your chest,” she said it quickly as though she was afraid she’d lose her nerve.
“So would I,” admitted Ambrose.
”I’m just looking out for you Ambrose.  Stranger things have happened.”
He smiled, “I really can’t think of anything stranger than me turning into a werewolf.”
Zoë nodded, “I can.  Just…be careful okay?”
”I will.”
”Okay.  Uhm, I’ll, I’ll call you when I get to my math?”
Ambrose knew she was trying to help the atmosphere between them get back to the way it was, ”Usual time?”
”No make it seven, I’ve got an essay to write.”
“Seven it is.  I’ll talk to you later Zoë.”
”Later.”

Sometime around six o’clock that evening Ambrose sat on the couch in his living room staring up at the ceiling.  He had finished all of his homework and most of his studying; he intended to wait by the phone until Zoë called for her usual homework help.  His father not home and his mother sleeping upstairs, the house was eerily quiet.  All that went through his mind over and over was Sabin’s face and his words.  He glanced at the window; the shades were drawn.  The sun had gone down just under an hour ago, and it was already dark out.  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered as he got up and went to the window.  Ambrose flung open the curtains and stared out at the rising moon.  He half expected something to happen, but when nothing did he laughed at himself.  Shaking his head, Ambrose left the curtains open and laid on the couch.

Ambrose woke up about an hour later to a sudden chill that ran down his spine.  He stretched his legs a little and turned over, scratching an itch on his arm.  “Ow!” he yelped as he sat up and looked down at his arm.  Where he had scratched were four thin lines, bleeding slightly.  Ambrose stared at them in disbelief and looked at his fingernails.  They were much longer than they were an hour before.  “Dreaming.  I’m dreaming and that is all,” Ambrose said aloud as he got off the couch and out of the moonlight.    He stood in the middle of the living room, confused almost.  He groaned in pain and put his hand to his mouth.  The pain subsided but was replaced with a wave of shivers down his spine.  Ambrose nearly jumped to the wall when the phone rang.  At first he was hesitant to answer it, but then he remembered Zoë’s promise to call.  He ran for the p hone, knocking it off the small table beside the couch.
“Hello?” he heard her ask as hi put the phone to his ear.
“Zoë?”
”Hey Ambrose, I started the cosine and cosecant graphs but didn’t get very fa—“
”I need to come over,” he breathed heavily into the phone.
”Are you okay?”
“I don’t know!” he yelled, then, with a great effort to remain calm, “I just…I think I ought to take Sabin’s advice, and be with someone I trust and…” he trailed off.
Zoë didn’t respond right away, “Oh uhm, okay.  Uh, is something happening?  Are you…changing?  Uhm never mind just, come over quickly.”
“Alright,” he hung up the phone and headed to the hall.  He grabbed his jacket and headed to the front door.  Just before he ran out he took a look in the small mirror.  He gasped as he noticed he now had long side burns and his eyebrows nearly met.  When he put his hand to his face he saw a light layer of blonde hair across the back of his hand.  Panicking slightly he moved his sleeve up to examine the rest of his arm.  Ambrose tossed the jacket in his hand to the side and grabbed one with a hood.

He ran to Zoë’s house a feeling of panic, fright, and even excitement welling up in him.  He earned a few looks as he passed several people, but none, he hoped, recognized him.  Zoë was at her front door waiting for him when he got there.  The hood pulled low over his face, Ambrose kept his head down, “Is anyone home?”
”My mom,” she answered, “but she’s in the kitchen.  Come on.”
Ambrose followed Zoë through the living room and up a narrow flight of stairs to her room.  Inside, Zoë closed the door, locked it, and quickly closed the curtains.  Nearly forgetting the pain in his mouth, the nervous feeling in his stomach, and the sort of anxious feeling in his chest and arms, he stood up straight and looked around Zoë’s room.  It was the first time he had been in it.  She had several posters from various bands up, as well as many, many news clippings on the wall above her desk, a copy of the Daily Planet on the floor, her bed was unmade, the cover sheet half on the bed and half draped across the floor, on the nightstand beside her bed was a small lamp, a book, and a picture frame.  Ambrose narrowed his eyes as he studied in.  It looked like a picture of them during the freshman spring dance; they had both been on the committee.
“Oh my god…Ambrose.”
He was snapped back to reality as he realized Zoë was standing beside him, studying his face and hands.  He looked away, “Don’t look.”
”Well if you don’t want me to look at you why’d you come here?”
”I…”
She moved closer, so that she stood in front of him and took his hands, examining them.  The backs had a very noticeable layer of blonde fur and his nails were very long, hard and black.
”I can’t believe this is happening,” she said quietly.
Ambrose felt another shudder go through him as Zoë’s fingers turned his hand over and traced along the palm of his hand; it wasn’t the changes.
“Let me see your face,” she said suddenly.
He sighed and reluctantly turned to face her.  He was surprised to see a grin spread across her face.  “What?  What is it?” he asked.
“Well, the unibrow is a definite turn-off.  But I think the green eyes with a sliiight hint of blue makes up for that.”
“My eyes changed color?!” he asked.
“Yea, come look.”  She went over to her bed and sat on it, opened the small drawer on the nightstand.  As Ambrose sat beside her he got a better look at the picture.  It was them, freshman year, the day before the dance.  He remembered a few moments after the picture was taken one of the largest banners came floating down to the ground, taking with it half of the decorations.  He smiled at the memory.
“Here,” Zoë said after shuffling through the drawer, handing him a small mirror.
Ambrose took it, pushed back his hood and studied his face.  His eyebrows had come together and as he stared at his eyes he saw them change slowly, from the center out, from a light green to a light yellow.  Gasping he looked away and handed the mirror back to Zoë, “What’s happening to me Zoë?”
“You’re…changing.  It’s…as Sabin and I thought…”
“Will I stay this way?  Does it go any further?  Will I turn into a wolf or a sort of, of hybrid form between the two?”
”Hey…hey…relax,” she said quietly taking his hands, “we’ll get through it together, one day at a time.”
”What if I don’t make it through tonight?  What if my body isn’t strong enough to handle any more changes?  What if I go running through the streets as a dog?  What if I kill someone?”
”Ambrose calm down.  None of that is going to happen because you’re here with me.”  She put her hand on his shoulder, “Oka…whoa.”
”What?  What is it?”
She squeezed his shoulder and arm through the sleeves, “You’re arms feel…tighter and much more built.”
”Are you sure?”
“Ambrose, I’m touching you aren’t I?  I can feel it.”  She let go of his arm, “Take off that sweatshirt.”
”Oh, uhm okay.”  As Ambrose moved to pull the shirt off, he felt as though it were tighter since he left.  Perhaps his muscles had gotten bigger?  When he pulled the sweatshirt over is head, his t-shirt came with it.
“Whoa,” Zoë said quietly, “you definitely got erm…more muscular.”
Ambrose looked down at his bare, and slightly hairy, chest and arms.  “Wow-ah-ah-ow-ow!” he exclaimed as he put his hand to his mouth.
”What’s wrong?”
”My teeth…” he mumbled.   Ambrose doubled over holding his mouth as pain seared through his gums and jaw.  After about thirty seconds, that felt like thirty minutes, he sat up again.
”You okay?”
“I think scho,” he mumbled.
Zoë snickered, “You sound like you got a tooth removed.
”I feel like I got dem all remoofed.”
Zoë’s grin grew wider as she shook her head, “Okay, no more talking.  Let me see.”  She sat up, putting one leg on the bed and kneeling on it, she leaned forward get a better look at Ambrose’s teeth.  Placing her hands on the side of his face as he opened his mouth, “Hey kid, you’ve got some serious canines.  And everything looks…weird.”
”Weird?  Whash weird?”
“Just…not human,” she sighed.
Ambrose closed his mouth and placed his hands over Zoë’s.  She was the first to pull away, “Uhm, so what now?  You feel anything else happening?”
”No…am I…am I shuposhed to turn into a wolfh?  Or—“
”I don’t know Ambrose, I really don’t.  Maybe, I’m not tryin’ to scare you here, but maybe the changes will get more severe as time goes on.  This is the first night of a full moon, maybe by the third night you’ll turn into something…more.”
He sighed, “Melisha…”
She smiled, “I’ll let you get away with that only ‘cuz it sounded so funny.”
He tried smile but found it difficult, “I’m shcared.  I don’t know whash going to happen to me, or what I should do.  I…”
”Like I told you Ambrose, we’ll, we’ll work through it.  It’ll be fine.”
He sighed wearily, “My head hursch…”
“Here,” she got off the bed, “lay down.  I’ll tell my mom not to play any music too loud and I’ll get us something to snack on.  Kay?”
Ambrose hesitated for only a second before he laid down on her bed.
He was half-asleep when Zoë returned, she called his name, but the pain and changes had stopped and he was too tired and weak to respond.  His eyes closed he expected to hear the sound of her chair sliding out as she sat at the desk, but instead, the bed shifted as more weight was added to it.  He felt her forehead rest against the back of his neck and her arm over his side.

Ambrose was jarred awake by a low beeping sound.  Half asleep he sat up and looked around for the source.  At first he didn’t recognize his surroundings, but after rubbing his eyes several times, things became clearer.  The beeping becoming increasingly annoying, he climbed over Zoë carefully so as not to wake her, and went to her desk, turning off the alarm.  It was morning already.  Ambrose felt a brief wave of panic as he wondered what he would tell his parents, it was soon replaced with a greater panic as he wondered if his features from the night before were still there.  He looked down at his arms and hands, they were no longer hairy, and his fingernails had returned to their normal color, but were still a little long.  He felt his ears, then his jaw, putting his fingers in his mouth to feel his teeth.  They ached but were also back to normal.  He returned to the side of the bed, retrieving the small mirror of the nightstand.  He gazed down into.  He frowned as he realized his “unibrow” remained, but was thankful his eyes were their normal blue.  He sighed, placing the mirror back on the table, and realized he would have to run home to have enough time to shower as well as re-shape his eyebrows.  As Zoë mumbled something in her sleep Ambrose was reminded that she was still there.  He smiled remembering the feeling of warmth when she had joined him in the bed.  Ambrose went back to her desk, shuffled through her notebook for a clean sheet of loose-leaf and found a pen in a side drawer.  He wrote her a quick note then grabbed his t-shirt and left.

Later that afternoon Ambrose sat restlessly in his study period.  He hadn’t seen Zoë all day and he hoped she wasn’t upset at him for leaving without waking her.  He decided to leave the study early and meet her at her English class as it ended.

Standing outside of her classroom he glanced at the clock on the wall; there was still another five or so minutes to the class.  The door was open and he could hear a student asking questions, something about mythical creatures.   He peaked in and was surprised to see Sabin standing at a small podium speaking.  Just as Ambrose looked in, Sabin looked in his direction.  He smiled and motioned for him to come in, “Hello Ambrose, come in, come in.  You have the pleasure of hearing my last lecture here in Smallville.”
A little embarrassed, Ambrose came into the classroom.  He quickly scanned the room for Zoë and, catching her gaze, smiled at her.  She smiled back.  Ambrose leaned against the radiators on the sidewall and watched Sabin.
“I see there are only a few minutes left to this class, and then that will be the last I see of you.”
There was a mixture of groans throughout the classroom.
“Perhaps I will try to come back sometime and visit.  Now…for my last bit of wisdom to share with you: here in this class we’ve been discussing the classic scenario of Man versus himself.  The questions asked and problems that arise when one is trying to find himself.  Last night I was happily surprised to find a channel that was showing the 1920 silent film of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  Now, within the first few minutes of the film, there is a quote I’ve always found interesting.  Ever since it first came…since I first saw it.”
Even though he hadn’t looked at Ambrose since he invited him into the classroom, he got the distinct feeling Sabin was speaking directly to him.
“And it went something like this, ‘In each of us, two natures are at war—the good and the evil.  All our lives the fight goes on between them, and one of them must conquer.  But in our hands likes the power to choose—what we want most to be, we are.’”  Just as Sabin finished his last word, the bell echoed throughout the classroom.  For a moment the students remained in their seats, as if there was something more.  But the need for lunch overpowered the need for knowledge and the classroom quickly began to empty out.  Ambrose went over to Zoë’s desk, “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you…”
”Are you kidding me?” she chuckled, “I got an extra half an hour of sleep, it was great.”
“Ah…thank you, Zoë.  For staying with me.”
Sabin came up beside her desk, “Hello Ambrose.  Zoë told me of your…adventures last night.”
”Yea…I’m sorry I made light of what you had to tell me.”
“I’ll see ya’ later Melissa!” another student shouted in their direction; Zoë frowned.
”Don’t apologize Ambrose, you are young and handling things quite well.”
”That quote…I…thought I always knew what I wanted to do, and wanted to be.  But now…” he sighed, “How do I know what I’m supposed to do with myself, with my life, if…if I’m some sort of monster?”
”You are not!” said Zoë.
Sabin smiled, “Ambrose, you have a lunch period now right?”
”Yes.”
”Good.  Come with me and I’ll tell you a story about a young man that I once knew in a situation a little similar to your own.  If not worse.”
Ambrose nearly said “I doubt that” but bearing in mind the events of the previous night he held back.
“I’ve got to go,” said Zoë, “test this period.  I’ll talk to later Ambrose.”
”Right.”
As Zoë rushed out of the classroom Sabin walked out with Ambrose, “Now, this young man, at a certain point in his life, everything changed.  And he spent years, years, believing he could never be what he wanted, do what he wanted, that he would never live a fully normal life.”
”What did he do?”
Sabin held open the door as Ambrose stepped out and smiled, “First, he met a young woman….”




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes it's a crossover :)
I couldn't help myself.  The original is a cross over too :nod:
it just didn't make sense to me that Sabin taught in school...and Ambrose was in school...and to not do a cross over just seemed...silly.
Uhm, yea there are romantic hints in there, I can't help myself.  I'm a hopeless romantic :heart:
Uhm.....oh the quote, the quote is actually from the 1920 silent black and white Jekyll and Hyde film  (staring John Barrymore).  I saw it over a month ago with my folks, and as I sat in the living room reading the quote the first thing that came to mind was Ambrose and his werewolf ness :nod:  So I knew I had to fit it in somewhere.
Hmm...guess that's all there is to say ^-^;
Hope you liked it.