Nora, 28 years old, she/her, writer, Hi, im your local Werewolf nutcase, Hammer Horror Hoe, and musicals. León Corledo is Husband Material, L.Talbot is my second, wannabe essayist of my sole fixation on COTW so one day I'll put it all in post.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Hi, Hammer Horror fandom, this is my first fic to feed my obsession with H.H and its one attempt at tackling Werewolves, its just a hobby, a full-time healthy hobby of mine.
Synopsis: An alternate happy ending to the original film.
The beast stalked towards Gwen, pistol in her trembling hand.
“Lawrence… Lawrence, I know it’s you…” She whimpered with a trembling voice. Blood and saliva oozed from his mouth, a low snarl being her answer.
“Lawrence please don’t make me do this…” Gwen cowered, the gun nearly falling onto the grass. It was so hard to hear over the rushing waterfall, if only she could get through to him.
“Look at me, look at me you know me…” The beast’s eyes narrowed, lip curled into another long snarl. She felt like she could drop dead right there from fright, looking down the barrel of a gun at this twisted and tormented man she knew.
“Look at me! It’s Gwen! It’s Gwen.” She wailed as he got on four of his paws, baring his teeth.
“Please… Please…” She looked behind her from the corner of her eyes, so close to the cliff she had to stop. She threw the gun aside, slowly lowering herself to the earth. He cocked his head and flinched, turning away from her. She paused and stared, raising an eyebrow while the creature whimpered. He was hurt. He was bleeding.
“…Lawrence?” She asked softly. He snapped his jaws at her to stay away, looking back at the wound in his side and lapped it with his tongue. She slowly reached her fist out, painfully slow, to show him she meant no harm.
“Lawrence, if you let me. If you let Gwen help you, she can help you.” Her words came out thick and bouncy, as if she was speaking to a child or a small animal. His lip twitched, only revealing a fang before curling in on himself. How wounded was he? She craned her neck to look, but the beast was too big. He sniffed her knuckle, crawling back on inhuman hands.
“Gwen wants to help you.” The moment her name once again passed her lips, recognition crossed his face. His eyes softened, the furrow in his brow laxed. And he whined. He whined long and he whined low enough for it to rumble in his chest. She scarcely breathed, shivering fingers slowly brushing against the dark fur that covered his cheek.
“Lawrence, let Gwen take you home.” He pushed his face into her hand with gentle force and a huff. That was as much of a reply as she wanted, she’d have to take it. Aberline’s dogs sounded off in the distance, not close enough, she sighed in relief.
“Come with Gwen, come with me. Please.” She slowly rose to her feet yet stayed slightly hunched, however finding that Lawrence in this state was much taller than she was, she straightened up. She hesitantly took his hand and led the way back towards home. Her home. Away from the flames and death that was the Talbot estate. It was a strange feeling, having claws press against your skin yet not deep enough to break it. Every twig snap, every sound the woods made put her on edge. As if any woodland sound would snap Lawrence back into a monster and maul her, she prayed the entire voyage that it wouldn’t happen.
The building was quiet and desolate, the two slowly padding up the stairs past the shop into the actual home above. She looked about, not a soul, and lit a few of the lamps on the walls before taking bloodied claws to the bathroom. As the beast sat on the floor, Gwen couldn’t hold back her abject horror of his injuries. A chunk of Lawrence's side had been torn with teeth, blood staining the front of his shirt, another noticeable gash in his shoulder and a scratch along his cheek. He was so covered in gore Gwen couldn’t quite tell at first what were wounds and what were left of his victims. She had to carefully unbutton the remains of his tattered shirt, which he did not fight against and only breathed through pants. Gwen drew a bit of water into the tub, mentally apologizing to her father as she carefully dabbed the wounds with a washcloth. The beast winced and lips curled, moving his body away from it.
“Help. Helping.” She replied softly, holding her free hand up. His eyes scrunched, looming in and smelling her palms. He relaxed visibly, letting out a breath through his nose that made the corners of her mouth inch. She placed the damp lukewarm washcloth on a part of his chest that wasn’t injured to try and show him, not stinging him like it had with his wounds. She tentatively, hesitantly, pushed the washcloth back to the open wound. He bore his teeth but gradually closed his mouth, whining once more.
“It’s alright, it’s alright, I know it hurts.” She hushed in a sing-song lullaby tone, hoping that it would somewhat put him at ease. She dabbed away at the gouges in a slow motion, every hiss he’d make would cause the treatment to go even slower. By the time she had cleaned and dressed all of them, it was nearly morning. She threw his snagged and ruined clothes into the fireplace, the fabric turning to falling stars in the hearth. Retrieving one of her father's ill-fitted garments, she coaxed Lawrence into allowing her to wrap him in a sheet from the antique store downstairs. It was only for covering an old sofa, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. She carried the clothes under her arm and smoothly padded her way into the small living room. The sun would rise soon, and Lawrence would change back, that’s how the tales go wasn’t it? With knees pulled up to his chest, Lawrence and Gwen sat in silence for a moment. Her heart pounding, feeling it thump in her neck like a rabbit on the move. She sighed, lowering her shoulders, closing her eyes to collect her thoughts when something weighed on her arm. Lawrence had rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed as well. He hadn’t fallen asleep had he?
“Lawrence?” She piped up softly, reaching up and holding his cheek.
”Hmmmmm…” He grumbled. For now, she didn’t mind. A moment of peace for the two, at last. Serenity, peace, from days of endless chaos. She sighed and smiled, leaning her head back on him. But their moment shattered from a loud ringing of a bell from downstairs, her father was home. Lawrence lifted his head and growled, his attention quickly stolen from Gwen cradling his face.
“It’s alright, you’re alright, hold on a moment.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and tightened the blanket around him before stealing away down the stairs, tripping over her feet and blocking the staircase with her body.
“Gwen, you’re awake.” Her father was taken aback, chuckling slightly.
“Yes! Yes.. I couldn’t sleep.” She explained quickly, occasionally chasing glances up to where Lawrence would be. If she could, she’d throw up. Out of everything to happen tonight, why did her father have to be here?
“That’s very unlike you Hon, are you alright?”
“Yes well, with everything that happened with the Talbot’s and…” A heavy thump broke her off, jumping from the noise.
“What was that?”
“I. We. I have a visitor.”
“I see… That’s fine Gwen but really you shouldn’t have kept them.”
“It’s alright Father, just a friend I assure you.” Her hand trembled as she tried to casually position herself. Her breath was shaking, her father could tell from her nervousness and he looked at her.
“Gwen.” He put her hands on his shoulders.
“You’re a woman now, you’re allowed to have visitors. I’ll go grab a coffee, take your time. And please, put something on that isn’t soaking wet.” He smiled warmly and kissed the top of her head before turning on his heel and walking out of the shop, locking the door on the way out. She put a hand over her heart and groaned.
The gates of Hell seemed to burst open behind Gwen Conliffe, a cacophony of howls and the gruesome sound of bones snapping, ripping through her ears. She swiftly turned and scrambled up the steps to investigate.
“Lawrence? Lawrence!” She cried out, quickly turning the corner to the living room followed by her eyes widening and covering her mouth. A wretched figure dangled from the couch, their body twisting and contorting, almost halfway onto the floor. The early morning sun's rays spilled through the window, casting its colors upon the floor. The torment had reached its climax, revealing the anguished form of Lawrence Talbot. His claws retracted with an audible clack, the thick fur either shedding or receding into his pores. His paw-like feet creaked and reshaped, his toes wiggling and snapping back into their human form as he collapsed onto the wooden floor. The animal thrust forward onto his knees, mouth widening into a sickening bay of agony. His palms slapped against the ground, hands twitching and shrinking into normalcy. Lawrence’s head pulled tighter into him, forehead pressing against the wood while his skull compressed into man’s visage. His vocal cords shredded then fixed, teeth drawing back or falling out for the razors to depart. The sheet clung to his shaking sweaty form, gasping and panting before drawing it closer to him. He collapsed onto his side, convulsing as if seizing. He was shortening back to normal size, the wolf finally escaping his features and bringing back the humanity he once lost. He gasped, lifting his head to meet Gwen's horrified gaze. Her skin was pale, precipitation rising on her forehead with trembling limbs. Lawrence groaned tiredly, slowly allowing the fetal position to lay out and slacken.
“Gwen… Gwen…” He croaked and reached out, calling the woman out of her trance and running to his aid.
“Lawrence, my god, Lawrence.” She fell to her knees before pulling his head into her lap, him curling back into her for comfort.
“I didn’t… I didn’t hurt anyone else did I?” He asked tiredly, his amber eyes glimmering in the dawn’s light.
“No… Not that I know of.” She hunched over him, hugging his head until she realized that she was crying. She didn’t know how long she had been hiding her reaction to the events up till then, finding tears pouring down her face without any hesitation to stop them. Her chest shook through near hyperventilation, coddling his face and head like a newborn baby.
“Lawrence… Oh, Lawrence.” She let out a sigh of relief, her chuckle mingling with her tears.
“It’s over, it’s finally over.”
I would like to thank @jam-jackson, @lady-of-glass-and-bone, and @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun for the encouragement, this was really nerve wracking to put out there ha ha.
so embarrassing to have a favorite character honestly. like yes that's my specialest guy 🙄 yes i have 200 photos of him saved 😑 if i don't look at him or hear him talk every 2 minutes i'll start killing the hostages 😕 i think about him every day. because he's my favorite. whatever
