After opening up a dog sanctuary and receiving your first shipment of dogs, you're surprised to receive a werewolf- er, well a man stuck in his werewolf form. You're even more surprised when a handsome stranger strolls into Lucky Dog Rescue, claiming to be the wolf you took care of.
. .
. .
For as long as you can remember, you've always had a connection with animals. You'd begged for a puppy growing up, but given what your family was, it wasn't feasible. So, when you were old enough to fly the coop, after many conditions set in place by your family, you decided to open up Lucky Dog Rescue- a sanctuary for dogs who were set to be euthanized because other shelters had run out of space or because they'd been too long on the adoption list.
Just on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, your family had found and purchased some land for you. There was already a house on the property and it wasn't too hard for your family to hire a construction company to build you your very own animal shelter on the back half of the land. It took a year to get the shelter up to code and running, and now here you are waiting for the first shipment of dogs- only ten of them as of now until you could figure out a routine and eventually hire some help.
From sitting perched on your porch swing, you spot the large truck turning down your driveway. Eager to greet your new rescues, you stand and start making your way down the steps to direct the driver where it is he's supposed to unload the dogs.
Then hopping in a golf cart, you drive towards the shelter yourself.
The truck driver is waiting by the back of his truck, clipboard in hand by the time you pull up next to him. He reads something off his paperwork before saying your name as if questioning your identity. "Yep. That's me."
"Cool." As he starts to unlock the door, the dogs inside start barking and whining. "So is this like a rehabilitation for dogs or something?" The truck driver asks.
"It's more of a temporary home. These dogs are some that were set to be euthanized either because the shelters ran out of room or they'd been waiting too long to be adopted out."
"Shit. Really?" As he climbs into the truck, you climb in behind him to check the dogs in their crates. "There's a Cane Corso in here. He's huge for a puppy though. I'd figured he'd have been adopted out as soon as possible."
"Yeah, Cane Corso's are magnificent pets and guard dogs, but most people can't deal with their size or their food consumption. But I have a good feeling about this one," you muse, squatting so you can poke your fingers through the cage. "I just gotta make sure all these boys and girls are healthy and adoptable before putting their pictures on the web in hopes of finding them a forever home."
As you stand back up, you do a quick head count and frown. When the driver catches you doing so, he chuckles nervously. "Oh, uh, when I picked up the dogs there was an extra." He walks over to the very front of the truck where there's what appears to be a big black dog lying quietly in his crate. "It's assumed he's a wolfdog and he was set to be put down, but he seemed too intelligent to do so. The shelter he came from was hoping you could put him up here."
Making your way to the crate, you crouch and look at the wolfdog. But something about him gives you pause, even more so when he lifts his head and starts to scent the air. Then all of a sudden he starts to growl while staring directly at you and it clicks. "Easy, boy," you coo.
"Huh. That's the most noise I've heard him make," the driver says.
"Yeah, well he probably just picked up a scent on me that he doesn't like," you say. "Which is silly because I swear that this is a safe place," you say, making sure the werewolf understands. The werewolf slowly calms and you smile, reaching in to rub a finger along the top of one of his paws.
"Right," the driver says. "Well everyone else is here. "You have three French Bulldogs, two Australian Cattle dogs, one Australian Shepherd, one Siberian Husky, the Cane Corso, one Border Collie, and one Corgi."
"Nice. Well let's start leashing them and escorting them into the shelter," you say. "Each enclosure has a door that leads them outside to their own enclosed space, so don't worry about them not using the bathroom. They can go as soon as you close the door behind them."
"Got it. I'll get these babies first." You watch as the driver starts leashing the French Bulldogs, baby talking at them as he takes them out of their crates.
As soon as the driver disappears, you look back at the werewolf. "Listen, I know what you are. I don't want to leash you, but I can't have you running off before we can figure out what to do with you." The werewolf tilts his head, snuffling, and you gesture to yourself. "Only human in a family full of werewolves. I know a werewolf when I see one, so you're safe here. My family lives an hour away, so you don't have to worry about encroaching on any pack territory. It's just me. Trust me?" The werewolf huffs and you grin. "Excellent. I'm going to open the door now, so please don't run off. You'll have to go in an enclosure, but as soon as the driver leaves you can join me at the house."
You open his crate and he steps out, stretching. He stays by your side and you grin before grabbing a leash and leashing the Australian Shepherd.
Side by side, the truck driver helps you get the dogs situated in their own enclosures. Then after thanking him and sending him off, the werewolf watches as you give the other dogs their own bowls of food and water.
"Come on," you gesture for him to follow you. "Let's head to my house and try to figure out a plan for you. I doubt you want to sleep on a cushion on the floor with your fellow canines."
The werewolf follows you and trots side by side the golf cart as you take off.
Walking up the porch, you kick off your boots before pointing at the doormat. "Wipe your paws, please."
You hold the door open for him while he does so and then he trots into your house without any hesitance. You follow him in, heading towards the kitchen and grab yourself something to drink. Then turning around, you find the werewolf staring right at you. You startle in surprise and then laugh at your own jumpiness.
"Right," you drag out the word. "So, uh, can you shift back or...?" The werewolf barks and shakes his head. You sigh. "Of course you can't." Frowning, you glance all around and try to figure out how you're going to communicate with him. Then an idea comes to you. "I got it! Stay here."
Rushing from the room, you head to one of your storage closets and pull out bin after bin to find what you're looking for. Soon enough, you find several buttons that can be programmed to say different things. Then after finding the USB wire, you take the buttons back with you to the living room where your laptop is so you can program words so the werewolf can answer you.
"So I thought I could use these buttons to train some of the dogs, but I guess I'll be using them on you," you say as you plug the red button in. "Red will be no, green will be yes, and white will be I don't know. Sound good?"
The werewolf sits and you get to work programming three of the buttons. Once done, you set out each button in front of him.
"Okay, so, just to make sure... can you change back?"
The wolf gives you a deadpan stare before raising a paw and stepping on the red button. "No."
"Okay. Do you have a pack?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Do you want me to contact-"
"No."
"What? Why not?" You frown. "Are you running away from them?"
"No."
You sigh. "This would be so much easier if you could actually talk." Then taking a moment to think, you ask, "So if you can't change back, was this done to you on purpose?"
"Yes."
"Wow. Okay." You stare at the wolf, not knowing what to do. "I... I'm at a loss here, man. This was done to you on purpose, but you don't want me to contact your pack. Do you want me to contact mine and-"
"No."
"Do you think this will wear off?"
"I don't know."
You run a hand over your face, rubbing the space between your brows. "I'm probably out of my damn mind, but as someone who knows about pack dynamics, I feel like I can trust you. Can I trust you?"
"Yes."
"Well I mean anyone would say that, but oh well. You seem pretty sane. If you were a crazed omega, I think you would've been thrashing in that crate of yours. Or tried to attack me by now." The wolf sits and tilts his head at you. "Ugh. I might regret this, but screw it. Since you're stuck in this form, I don't want you out there in the elements. I have a spare bedroom you can use, but the second you're back to human status, you're replacing the mattress and sheets."
The wolf huffs and steps forward, stepping on the green button. "Yes."
"Good. And just so you know, I'm giving you a month. If you haven't changed back by then, we're calling your pack." The wolf's ears twitch and you grin, pushing yourself to stand. "Alright, so I'm hungry. What do you think about eating and just settling in? I'll program more buttons tomorrow, but for now I'll keep it to yes or no questions."
The wolf nods, licking his chomps.
As you start heading towards the kitchen, you hesitate. "Oh, wait! I don't even know your name. Or should I just call you Wolfie for now?"
The wolf barks, brushing past you and you laugh as he goes.
Day to day with a strange werewolf is bound to be interesting.
Over the course of the month with Wolfie, you find that you quite like his company even though the only way he can speak with you is through the buttons or tiles of the alphabet that he steps on to spell out something. Of course, getting used to his presence took a few days- days that left you embarrassed beyond belief when you accidentally flashed him your underwear after waking up and walking downstairs in nothing but a shirt and underwear to brew your coffee.
Wolfie, who eventually spelled out that his name was Derek, took to roaming your property while you worked with the dogs. He avoided the veterinarian when she stopped by to give everyone a check-up, and then avoided the two teenage boys who the veterinarian sent your way to clean the kennels since they needed volunteer hours for their college applications.
During the day you took care of your animals with the help of two teenage boys, taking pictures to add to your website in hopes of adopting the little furballs out. You even made flyers which the boys took into town, taping them around town and leaving them at places of establishment.
And then at night, you made dinner for you and Derek who quickly made himself comfortable on the sectional in your living room after promising to replace anything he ruined.
When the month officially ends, Derek is stubborn about keeping mum about his pack. And every time you mention it, Derek trots over to the yellow button to press it. Stay. He won't tell you anything about his pack, so you don't know where to start looking for them and you really don't want to inform your family.
But then halfway into the second month, two men that appear in their early twenties walk into Lucky Dog Rescue and you know Derek must know them by the way he perks up from his position by the front desk.
The paler individual of the two spots Derek, his eyes widening as he makes a beeline for him which forces his brown skinned companion to quickly follow. You smile at them, especially when one of them kneels in front of Derek to meet his gaze and Derek sniffs before turning his head.
"Hi," you greet them, walking over. "Can I help you guys?"
The brown skinned young man suddenly looks sheepish as he smiles at you. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about him," he says. "I'm Scott. My friend here is Stiles. I, uh, I saw a flier for this place at the vet clinic I work for and thought what you were doing was pretty awesome."
"Yeah." Your demeanor softens a little. "I've always loved animals so it was a no brainer about what I wanted to do when I had the means to do it."
"That's awesome." His smile is quite contagious, especially when he glances at Stiles and you see that Stiles is dead set on gaining Derek's attention. Even when Derek doesn't want to give it and keeps averting his attention. "Anyway, I looked up your website and saw some of the canines you had available. We saw the, uh, the wolfdog and thought we might inquire into whether or not he was up for adoption."
"Sorry, guys, but he is not. I'm actually trying to track down his family."
"What?!" Stiles yelps. Scott's eyes widen as he glances between you and his friend, and you shrug. "But- but he's ours!"
You arch an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"
"Yes!"
"Then why does our furry little friend seem to want nothing to do with you?"
Stiles gapes as he glances back at Derek, gently tweaking one of his ears. "Come on, sourwolf, and let the nice lady know we're family."
Derek yawns in Stiles' face before getting up and trotting over to his mat of buttons. Then staring directly at Stiles, Derek steps on the red one. "No." Now both Stiles and Scott are gaping, and you're left trying to stifle your laughter.
"Derek!" Stiles snaps and you mentally perk up. So they know his name, huh. Maybe they are telling the truth. "This isn't funny. We need to get you home. We've been searching everywhere for you."
The turquoise button is pressed next. "Bitch."
You slap a hand too little too late over your mouth after a laugh has escaped and you shrug when Scott and Stiles stare at you. "He's, uh, he's really intelligent and I've been using the buttons to communicate with him," you tell him. "The bitch button was for shits and giggles. He's never used it until now though."
Stiles' eyes narrow while glancing back at Derek. "I hope she gave you a flea bath," he hisses.
You start to giggle and walk around the counter, giving up the act. "Alright, Derek, game's over. I know you know them because if not, you would have already pressed the purple button until I locked myself back up at the house."
"Purple button?" Scott asks. "What's the purple say?"
Derek refuses to press it, so Stiles does. "Danger."
"He's only pressed it twice since he's been here, but fortunately they were false alarms." Scott and Stiles nod, and you grin. "So which one of you is the werewolf?"
They both freeze. "You know?" Stiles asks.
"Yep. Perks of growing up as the only human in a pack," you tell them. "I could tell Derek wasn't a wolfdog like I was told, so when he wasn't thrashing in his crate or trying to attack me when he was let out, I took a chance on him. However, as a human, I can't tell who's who." Stiles continues to gape and Scott nervously shifts from foot to foot. Then while trying not to appear intimidating, Scott lets his eyes flash red. You smile at him before bowing your head slightly in respect for him. "Welcome, alpha."
"Hi. You don't know how much we appreciate you looking after Derek. It's been hell trying to track him down."
"Well I'm glad you found my flier and website. He says he's stuck, but he wanted to wait the curse out in hopes of transforming back. I gave him a month, but he's been a stubborn little shit and refused to tell me anything about his pack since then."
"Yep. Sounds like Derek," Stiles says, standing up while glaring at him. "So, uh, since he technically can't be adopted out, can we just take him?"
"Yeah! Sorry," you chuckle. And then when you glance back down at Derek, you're hit with a wave of emotion that makes your eyes sting. Laughing at yourself, you squat down and raise a hand to rub at the side of his neck. "So this is goodbye, huh? I didn't actually think it would suck this bad." Derek steps towards you, headbutting you. You smile softly. "Maybe I should have made you stay out here instead of inside my home. I think I got attached."
Derek steps back, but before he leaves he steps over to the buttons one last time. While glancing at you, he steps on the pink. "Friend."
You slowly smile and give him a nod. "Always."
The days drag on after Derek's departure, so you throw yourself into work.
Surprisingly, you manage to adopt out five dogs- the husky, the French Bulldogs, and the Corgi. Those five are quickly replaced and then word must have traveled about Lucky Dog Rescue because you start receiving visitor after visitor, and dog after dog find their forever home.
When you're able to start hiring employees, the number of dogs in the shelter steadily rises. The shelter can only hold up to fifty dogs, yet the most dogs you've had at one time is twenty-eight.
Then when work starts to slow and you settle into an easy routine, your days with Derek haunt you. Especially at night when you grew accustomed to having him join you on the sofa or trotting around your house, and now it's complete silence. Sometimes you missed him so much that you thought about asking around for an alpha Scott to see if they ever returned Derek to his human self, but then you thought better of it. He'd reach out if and when he wanted to.
So instead, you adopted.
You adopt a Basset Hound that had been surrendered to your shelter because the owners were moving and couldn't take Beau with them, and he won your heart over almost immediately.
Beau liked to go on walks every now and then, but he most enjoyed curling up on the couch with you or curling up on his bed under the front desk down at the shelter while you were working.
One day, while it's slow and your employees are taking care of the dogs in the back, you sit down on the floor in front of the front counter to play fetch with Beau. He's enjoying chasing a tennis ball and then playing keep away with it. You don't notice when the front door jingles to signify a possible client, but you do notice when Beau whines and runs behind the counter.
Gaping at your dog, you shake your head in disbelief at him. "Some guard dog you are, punk." There's a deep chuckle and you glance up at the stranger- the very handsome stranger, actually- and quickly climb to your feet. "Hi. Sorry about that. Welcome to Lucky Dog Rescue. What can I do for you?"
The dark haired man shrugs, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I believe I owe you a new mattress. And my thanks."
"Excuse me?"
"My name is Derek Hale. It's nice to finally speak with you." You gape at the man standing before you before you snap out of your stupor and rush forward. But before you can touch him, you freeze.
"Uhhh... is it weird that I want to hug you right about now?"
"Not at all." He pulls his hands from his pockets, spreading his arms, and you readily latch on to him. He chuckles as you laugh in glee. "So I see the shelter is doing good."
"It is! Yeah."
As you pull back from the embrace, he asks, "Is Beau yours or...?"
"Mhm. Mine," you tell him. You walk around the counter to drag Beau back out, intent on making him greet Derek so he knows he's not a threat. "Kind of got used to having a companion in my house that I learned pretty fast it sucks living alone." Derek squats and holds his hand out, smiling as you coo at Beau and assure him that the big cuddly werewolf doesn't mean either of you any harm. "So did you guys get everything squared away? Did you find who cursed you in your wolf form?"
"We did. Scott doesn't like to use violence, so it took us a while to broker a treaty with some witches that were looking to settle in Beacon Hills."
You wince. "Witches are sneaky. I hope you worded the treaty very carefully."
"We knew exactly what they were after. It's what everyone's after and why Beacon Hills is a beacon for the supernatural," he says. "The treaty wasn't one necessarily for peace. It was a treaty stating that if they stepped foot back in our territory, all niceties go out the window and the pack is allowed to attack."
"Good."
Derek nods. "And on another note, I actually came in to adopt."
You perk up. "Really?!"
"Yeah. I've been checking your website and I saw the Corso was still here."
"Yes." You sigh sadly. "Everyone likes to look at him and get his hopes up. He's just too big for anyone to care for around here."
"Well then I guess it's a good thing I have the means to care for him."
You slowly grin. "Does this mean I get picture updates of him?"
"I will bring him by whenever you want. Or you can drop by my place and even bring Beau along. We can have a... playdate of sorts for the dogs."
"A playdate for the dogs, huh?"
Derek smiles. "And maybe the owners if Beau's mom is up to it."
"Oh. I'm pretty sure Beau's mom is up for it." You laugh. "But before we can go on those playdates, we need to get you your pup."
"Dante. His name's going to be Dante."
"Nice." You then gesture for him to follow you to the back. "Let's go get Beau's new friend Dante then."