Red. It was everywhere, covering everything, a deep color dripping from everything. Mark stands in the midst of it, his clothing stained the same deep red, dripping from his fingers, and glinting off of his razor sharp teeth.

His mouth curves into a pleased grin. His smile simply grows as his animalistic brown eyes move over his work, the mangled bodies laid at his feet in a pile. And only one thought echoed through his head.

'I want more.'

Mark sits up quickly, his eyes opening instantly trying to get rid of the sight of red. But it doesn't go away. He clenches his eyes shut, silently telling himself to relax, but when his eyes open again he still sees it.

Red.

His breathing quickens as he swings his feet over the side of the bed, looking down at himself. A deep red stained his clothing and splattered across his arms. He reaches a hand up to his face and only feels more of the warm liquid, the fresh liquid. The taste of copper lingered in his mouth, a sickening taste that a part of him longed for.

He stands quickly walking over to the desk and looking at himself in the small dirty mirror. It was in fact blood that covered his body, just like in his dream. He felt his teeth in his mouth, they were still slightly sharpened as though he hadn't completely gone back to his human form. He sucks in a few breaths, clenching his eyes shut, silently praying that it was a dream, but as he opens them again the realization hits him.

It wasn't just a dream.

"Maybe I just killed a deer..."

He mutters to himself softly, taking a few shaky steps away from the mirror, unable to look at his crazed appearance any more. A part of him knew it wasn't a deer, however he stuck to that mentality. He wasn't a killer, he couldn't be.

He unsteadily makes his way back to the bed and looks down at the clean clothes, silently thankful that he hadn't changed before going to bed.

Quickly stripping Mark uses his already stained shirt to wipe the remaining blood from his face and arms and quickly changes.

The clothes Robin had left him were simple enough, a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt that was just slightly too big for the man. Mark sucks in a few unstable breaths, muttering to himself, telling himself to calm down. Finally he stands, simply leaving his old clothes in a pile and walking out into the bright sun.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, however it seemed to be about 11am by now. Mark let's his eyes scan the small camp, it was strangely empty, thankfully. Mark releases a small relieved sigh as his eyes land on the familiar green hair of Jack.

He stood talking to one of the others. Tyler was it? The Irish man's face lights up in a smile as he spots Mark, he excuses himself from the taller man and rushes over, wrapping Mark in a hug ignoring when he tensed up at the touch.

"Hey Markimoo!"

He greets excitedly. The red haired man forces a small smile and hesitantly hugs him back, not even trying to match his level of happiness.

"Hey..."

He responds softly, the remnants of last night's dream continuing to plague him. Jack pulls away and narrows his eyes slightly at Mark, worry lacing his tone as he spoke next.

"Everything alright?"

The red haired man nods his head, continuing to force that small smile as he thought up and excuse.

"Yah... Just tired..."

He mutters in response. Jack continues to study him skeptically, and for a second Mark didn't think he believed the lie, but soon his happiness returns.

"Yah, it's normal to get tired after your first shift."

Mark nods in acknowledgement and continues to keep his small smile, trying to push away the images that still continued to flash through his mind. It was difficult to tell if it was a dream or not, the blood was certainly real but...

"So Mark you want to go or not?"

The Irish man interrupts Mark's thoughts. The red haired man blinks at him curiously, go where? He must've tuned the man's voice out.

"Go where?"

Mark asks, earning a small eye roll from the green haired man, though he continued to smile.

"You've been cooped up here for days, I thought you might like to go into town."

Jack repeats himself, a small hint of worry breaking through his smile. The red haired man nods his head with a small smile, honestly it sounded like a good idea to get away from the pack for a little while, perhaps even feel normal for a little while.

"Sure... Sounds great."

Mark agrees quietly. Jack's smile grows at his agreement and he grabs his hand, dragging him away from the camp and through the dense trees once again.

"Hope you're okay with walking."

Jack chuckles softly as they exit the trees, entering a small dirt patch with a road in front of it. Mark nods his head as the two begin walking.

The walk was silent, not a comfortable silence, but tense. It was clear Jack could tell something was up with the red haired man, but every time he tried to ask about it Mark changed the subject, so the Irish man had just stopped asking.

After less than a ten minute walk they reach the town, the sidewalks were fairly empty and not many cars sped down the road, thankfully it was quiet.

Mark lets his eyes wander around as they walk down the sidewalk, passing a few people. Each time they passed a person Mark's brown eyes followed their movements, curiously, hungrily. He felt his instincts begin to take control with each new person they passed, it took all his willpower to not let his teeth sharpen into fangs.

Jack must have noticed the tense state of Mark as he reaches over grabbing his hand delicately, interlacing their fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Even if Mark wouldn't talk about what was wrong, that didn't mean he couldn't be comforted.

The red haired man relaxes slightly at the contact, focusing on the warmth of the Irish man's hand in his own, trying to keep his eyes away from the people, though he noticed himself sneaking a few glances.

"Hey Mark why don't we get something to eat?"

Jack interrupts the man's thoughts, taking notice of his anxious behavior. Mark looks over to him and nods his head, as Jack leads him inside a nearby diner. It thankfully wasn't very busy, only a few people sat at different tables.

The Irish man leads Mark back to one of the corner table, taking a seat across from him and studying him carefully, worry lacing his blue eyes. The red haired man either doesn't notice Jack's eyes on him, or just ignores them as he stares out of the window, brown eyes void of emotion.

"Alright Mark, what's wrong?"

Jack finally asks again with a small huff, frankly annoyed at his secrecy. The red haired man shakes his head.

"Nothing... I'm fine..."

"Mark, you're not fine. Come on you can tell me."

Jack encourages quietly. Mark stays silent, seeming to think about telling him. He opens his mouth to speak but a few loud seemingly college kids burst in the door, laughing and joking as they sit at a table unfortunately close to Mark and Jack.

The Irish man shoots an annoyed glare at the group of three boys. Mark however ignores them, at least until their conversation catches his interest.

"Did you hear about the wolf attacks last night? Four people dead their bodies were completely mangled."

A boy with sandy blonde hair tells his small posse excitedly, not as worried about the attack as he honestly should have been. Mark lets his brown eyes wander over, silently thinking it was just the people Amy and others had gone out to hunt, however that is gone as soon as Jack speaks up, keeping his voice low, also having listened to the boy.

"Strange... Amy said she only took one... Maybe there's another pack in town..."

The Irish man mutters to mostly himself. Mark's brown eyes move down to his hands that sat on the table, twitching nervously. As he looked down at them his mind flashed back to earlier this morning, flashed back to the red that had stained his hands not long ago. His hands began to gently shake.

"What can I get you boys?"

A female voice asks, making Mark jump from his thoughts. Jack opens his mouth to tell the waitress, but stops as he looks at Mark, narrowing his blue eyes curiously.

"Just a burger for me..."

Jack finally speaks politely. Mark looks up as the brown haired waitress looks to him. He opens his mouth to speak but his throat tightens, mind flashing back to his dream.

Blood... So much blood.

"I... Uh..."

Red everywhere... The coppery smell surrounding him, suffocating him.

Mark gulps, trying to get the words out before he pushes up from their table, hands shaking as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I-I've gotta go."

He mutters quickly, shoving passed the waitress and making his way to the door, ignoring the weird looks he got.

The red haired man takes in a few deep breaths, the cool air not calming him down in the slightest as he made his way down the side walk, he had to get away, he had to. He shoves passed a few people walking down the sidewalk, earning a few angry remarks though he ignores them, afraid that he would hurt them if he stopped.

I killed them... I killed them...

His mind yells at him, as he stumbles down the street, ears picking up every little sound, including every steady heartbeat of those around him. That stops as his eyes catch a newspaper, sitting at a small magazine stand, his brown eyes scan over it nervously and his throat tightens once more as dread twists at his gut nauseating him.

The front page talked about the wolf attacks, and showed pictures of four victims, all of them so young, so innocent. Not deserving to die.

The faces are familiar to Mark as he flashes back to his dream once more. He vaguely remembers these faces, these faces mangled and bloody in a heap at his feet.

"I-I... I killed them..."

The red haired man murmurs under his breath, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he shoved a hand through his mess of hair, pulling a few strands from his scalp.

The world was crumbling around him. He killed innocent people, they didn't deserve it, none of them did. But... He enjoyed it.

Mark jumps from his bloody thoughts once again as a hand grabs his shoulder, nearly making him yelp in surprise. He is turned around until he look into a pair of soft blue eyes, looking at him with worry.

"Mark what the hell happened back there."

Jack asks firmly, clearly telling Mark to tell the truth. The red haired man opens his mouth but can't seem to form the words, his mind continuing to flash the images at him.

Red. The blood everywhere. Their bodies torn, shredded.

Jack continues to speak, Mark can see his mouth moving but doesn't hear any of the words, the only sound he could hear was the quick uneven beating of his heart, deafening in his ears.

I killed them.