Chapter Text
Love begins with the screams of the unwanted.
After being introduced to her and Pugsley's torturers at America's foremost facility for privileged young adults, there is a commotion and a tantrum on the other end of the welcoming area that is quickly silenced. The other children and parents sneer at such tomfoolery.
When Wednesday investigates later, there are claw marks gouged into a cabin near the area, deep and long, from one wall to another. Five claws, about her height. It's about the only interesting thing here.
"Maybe this place isn't so bad," muses Pugsley.
She investigates. The trust fund children here are such horrid gossips that she doesn't need to torture them for information. Unfortunately.
There is another girl at Camp Chippewa, Wednesday learns, who is miserable and problematic and doesn't fit in with anyone here at all, no matter how hard she tries. She is a horrible shade of blonde, with clothes that make Wednesday want to vomit. Her name is Enid.
At first, she's disgusted, but knives can come in pink and still kill people. So she takes a chance.
Enid knows how to fake a smile, despite her clearly bloodshot eyes and scratchy throat.
"Howdy, Wednesday, right? The goth girl? Gosh, that's a weird name, but I guess I can't judge. I'm Enid."
"A pleasure to meet a fellow monster."
"A monster? No, I'm… I'm a regular human. My mom asked my uncle to bring me here — she said it might help with, uh, my performance anxiety."
"Do the claws come out before or after your performance anxiety?" Her brother asks, simple-minded as he is.
There's a look of fury and distrust on Enid's face, before the accursed slave of patriarchy known as Camp Counselor Becky Martin-Granger frolics over to them and says something inane and vapid and worthless.
Wednesday locks eyes with Enid once more. Angry. Paranoid. Accusing. Dissatisfied.
She savors it.
The interaction addles Wednesday's mind even as she's forced into the wooden torture chamber known as the "Harmony Hut". The fire in Enid's eyes ignited something within her, even though it's been hours since then.
So much so, in fact, that she thoroughly bites at whoever approaches.
"We don't want him here."
"Oh, but I'm sure you'll get along just fine!" Camp Counselor Gary Granger hoots, forcefully holding a bespectacled boy by his shoulders.
"We promise to physically harm him," Wednesday drones, locking eyes with Granger.
Following her lead, Pugsley cracks his knuckles and pulls out a baseball bat from behind the stuffed animals. Where he got it from doesn't matter. Granger's eyes boggle and he simpers along, pulling along the boy with him to a different prison, if she had to estimate.
His wife doesn't get the memo, apparently. But this time, she's brought Enid.
Pugsley reaches for the bat, but Wednesday touches his arm, and he slowly hides it again. She makes eye contact with Enid and greets her, only receiving a terse nod.
"Oh, you're already friends!" Martin-Granger coos horribly, before listening to the sound of her own voice and then leaving them.
It's just Enid and Wednesday and Pugsley as the lock audibly clicks on the door.
These odds are laughably easy.
It's one hour, twenty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds before Enid gets tired of the silence.
"How did you know?"
"That you had claws?" Pugsley asks.
Enid swallows something and nods.
"There were human-sized claw marks from your disagreement," Wednesday reveals, watching Enid's hands fidget, "from there, your emotions betrayed you."
"And we know all sorts of monsters!" Pugsley adds, "Grandmama's a witch, so she's friends with vampires, werewolves, sirens, uh…"
"Psychics." Wednesday rolls her eyes at her brother's incompetence. Honestly, the last one should be the most obvious.
"Yeah!"
At that, Enid relaxes visibly, which is a shame, because Wednesday wanted to see a fight break out. Oh well. The night is still young.
"Urgh, I just — I don't like telling my secrets like that. Whatever, you already know, so... Well, I'm Enid Sinclair, and I'm… I'm a werewolf."
Wednesday raises an eyebrow. She has her lunar calendar perfectly memorized. This didn't add up.
"It's the night of the full moon. We're approaching nightfall. Did you plan on mauling us to death, or would you like us to unlock the door?"
"You can pick locks?" Enid blurts out, before shaking her head, "Nevermind. I… I can't transform yet, so don't worry about that."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear," Pugsley adds. Wednesday nods. Truly tragic. For some reason, though, the rainbow-infested lupine takes that as permission to wholly vent about her tragic life as a whole.
"I mean, it's stupid, right? A werewolf who can't even turn? I guess that's why my mom sent me here — she thought that, y'know, some time outdoors would…"
What follows is a heartfelt confession wherein Enid chokes back tears and her voice becomes raspy and her eyes water and her body shakes uncontrollably. Her face turns red, and at the end of her tirade, she destroys the table with one hand before she fully begins to cry.
Wednesday sends Pugsley to pick the door lock before leaning over to Enid.
"I will admit, Sinclair, that I usually don't have any patience whatsoever for babbling nonsense followed by incessant wailing."
Enid looks up from her tears, face writhing in confusion and shock at Wednesday's words.
"However. I consider it entirely reasonable to feel such turmoil over the inability to become a monstrous killing machine. I would also mourn such a tragedy."
Wednesday leans in closer, eyes flickering to Enid's claws.
"Help us break out. I'm certain that our family can help. In return, you must swear your undying fealty to me."
The door creaks open. Although not verbally answering, Enid runs alongside them.
Now, if only they'd gotten past the gate in time. Maybe they wouldn't have to suffer Kumbaya.
Inevitably, they find themselves in the Harmony Hut again. Specifically for refusing to take part in an incredibly racist caricaturization of Wednesday's ancestors.
This time, though, the torture method has devolved into old CDs of Disney and Dreamworks movies. Cruel and unusual punishment is the name of the game. Wednesday is almost impressed.
Enid proves to be useful in this scenario, though. She puts on her best puppy-dog eyes and furls her eyebrows.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry for not doing your …great play about Thanksgiving — Can we at least choose the movies?"
"Great idea!" Granger titters, and Enid chooses, because Wednesday is certain that any choice is excruciating pain in this scenario.
Until it isn't.
Enid does her best to make sure the movie selection is bearable. Apparently, she has an encyclopedic knowledge about technicolor children's media. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and Sleeping Beauty are trite as expected, but Enid smirks and stops the movies before the tragedies are solved, and the stories become mildly acceptable. Snow White never awakens. The dragon defeats the prince.
Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas has only the antagonist as a redeeming quality, but Pugsley seems to enjoy it. The Prince of Egypt is good enough to watch to the end.
Sometime during this viewing session, Pugsley falls asleep, and it is only Wednesday and Enid in the waking world.
"Hey, check this out," Enid says, before opening a dusty cabinet in the Harmony Hut. She blows off dust from an old VHS machine and an accompanying Cinderella VHS.
Such ancient technology is to be explored, of course. The recording is shoddy and crackly, and the tape for the opening scene is dirty to the point of unplayability.
However, the rest of the movie is visible and audible enough. So they watch it.
As Cinderella transforms, and Wednesday ponders the horrifying moral implications of turning mice into horses and turning animals into coachmen, Enid pulls her knees to her chest and sighs.
"Do you think I could ever fall in love?"
"That depends," Wednesday starts, images of her parents flickering in her mind, "on what you would do for love."
"If it were true love? I would… I could kill someone. Probably."
Wednesday turns to look at Enid, whose eyes can only reflect the light of the television. The Prince appears. He is smitten.
"Would you? Only one?"
"I mean, I could kill a lot of people, but it depends which people. I could do other things. I'd — steal a car for them. That's probably easy. I'd… hm. I'd hunt for them, that's what werewolves do."
"What's the worst you would do?"
The Prince asks Cinderella to dance.
"I'd burn down a house for them." Enid answers thoughtlessly, truthfully.
Wednesday slowly turns back to the movie as a dead woman sings, and her side touches Enid's.
"So this is love, mhmhm, so this is love…"
The camp burns behind them as they run. The play is ruined. Amanda Buckman can still be heard screaming at her stake.
"Come with us," Wednesday asks, surprising even herself.
Enid looks back at the camp, then at Wednesday.
"Okay," she says breathlessly.
Wednesday takes her hand and they get in the van.
As they approach the Addams Manor, Wednesday whispers to Enid, because she's aware of the little quirks and culture shocks of her family.
"I suspect my Aunt Debbie will be attempting to kill everyone soon," she states matter-of-factly, "if you see her threatening our lives, hurt her."
Enid's face is frozen in fearful obedience, and she nods. Pugsley parks the car.
A ball of pink and blonde hair and claws suddenly barrels over Aunt Debbie just as she's about to pull the kill switch on the electric chairs, and Pubert, little Addams that he is, takes the moment to chew off the bindings on Wednesday, who proceeds to free the rest of her family members from their restraints.
It's just in time, because Enid receives a standing ovation from her audience for her first kill. Wednesday included.
The blonde looks at her bloodied hands, at the claw marks on Debbie's jugular, and laughs a hysterical laugh, tears trailing down her cheeks.
The following two months are a welcome break from the chaos of Debbie's arrival. Wednesday's father has put away his train sets, and has gone back to golfing at the neighbor's windows. Her mother takes time to teach Pubert how to read eulogies.
Wednesday takes it upon herself to help recondition Enid. For some odd reason, Pugsley, Grandmama, Thing, and even Uncle Fester decide to cooperate.
"I wanna see the werewolf turn," Pugsley shrugs.
"I need the werewolf to start turning so I can get some fur!" Grandmama grumbles.
"NEW FRIEND," Thing signs.
"Usually I wouldn't, but I really owe it to the gal who murdered my wife! I'm in her debt!" Uncle Fester proclaims.
Grandmama brews up forgotten werewolf potions: flying ointments and Livonian beers, wolfskin cocktails and nagual recipes. Uncle Fester makes sure to keep Enid's location a secret, with his more intimate knowledge of the world's workings and how to manipulate them.
As for Wednesday herself, she has the responsibility of acclimating Enid to her new life. She needs to break past her inhibitions if she wishes to survive the Addams Family, let alone complete her transformation. Pugsley and Thing are, as always, her loyal servants.
In the first week, Enid is afraid. She is afraid of leaving Camp Chippewa so suddenly. She is afraid of her family becoming concerned. She is afraid of the consequences of her choices. She is afraid of the house, of the people, of her own shadow. Sometimes she lashes out, she says she regrets coming, she says she should go back to San Francisco already.
On good days, Wednesday reminds her of her purpose.
"Undying fealty," she repeats, holding Enid's wrist, "in exchange for a successful transformation."
On bad days, Wednesday reminds her of her place.
"Coward, murderer," she lists, aiming a crossbow at Enid's retreating back, "not-quite-a-wolf. We're not done with you yet."
In the second week, Enid is fierce, but submissive. She understands the futility of attempting to escape on her own by foot. She knows how Lurch can always track her down and throw her back into the family hearse. But the Addams Manor means a warm meal and a warm bed, which she grows to appreciate, if only out of necessity.
"I know I'm not supposed to be here. I know I'm supposed to be with my family," Enid shudders, downcast.
"You already are with family," Wednesday states, "this is where you are supposed to be."
In the third week, Enid grows warmer. She seeks comfort in Pugsley and Thing and mother and father and, soon enough, Wednesday. They go fishing together. Enid learns fencing and botany and French and realizes what she could have had all this time, if she'd simply stopped delaying the inevitable.
"I just wish you guys had internet, or television, or anything like that," Enid sighs, "I miss YouTube."
Wednesday sneers, but Uncle Fester chimes in.
"Oh, the internet might not be such a bad idea! You get to stalk people for free, and get all sorts of neat stuff from the dark web and eBay!"
Her father thinks this to be an excellent idea, and they only barely scar the internet technician when he comes. Admittedly, buying poison does become more convenient, after that.
Some light returns to Enid's eyes, but it is more unholy, more deviant.
A satisfying reaction.
In the fourth week, Enid transforms.
It takes a lucky shot from Pugsley — a throwing axe glides neatly into Wednesday's shoulder, causing her to go into shock — and there is a scream and then promises of murder and a ruined throwing axe competition and then howling.
The full moon shimmers over the treetops as Enid's bones break, her skin rends, her face bloodies and extends. Pugsley watches in awe, and Wednesday uses all her barely-conscious attention to capture the image in her mind forever.
As a result of Grandmama's alchemy, Enid's transformation is anything but normal. Her werewolf form is twice the average size. Her face is entirely skeletal, free of flesh and hair. Gigantic antlers protrude from her skull. Her claws are as long as branches. Instead of eyes, there are two glowing lights.
She is not just a werewolf. She is a result of something unholy. Traditionally a result of psychosis, or murder, or cannibalism. Malevolent, greedy, unnatural. Hunter of men, killer of the North American tribes. A wendigo. Pugsley's little legs go as fast as they can, as a true demon chases him through the woods.
As Wednesday does her best to stymie her blood loss, she wonders what Enid has become, to her. In conclusion, there is only one word in the English language that can compile her feelings.
It is not lover. It is not friend, or hostage, or pet, or wife, or girlfriend, or paramour, or moon, or sun, or "cara mia", or "mon amour", or servant, or master, or curse, or blessing, because none of those words could ever amount to what Enid is, individually.
Enid is hers.
And for the month after that, Wednesday makes it known, in the way children do.
Eventually, Enid does return to San Francisco.
"A failure of Camp Chippewa", the news anchor claims, before explaining the closure of the summer camp. "Child kidnapping", the reporters write, with Enid's missing photo circulating online.
The Sinclairs were only truly buoyed by Enid's ability to call them, it seems, but they were already mounting a joint operation between the authorities and the werewolf clans that would be launched if Enid didn't return by the end of summer.
The most bittersweet part? The Addams would have fought them to the death, Wednesday knew, if Enid herself didn't intervene.
It is a tearful goodbye, one with blaring lights and death threats from the Sinclair matriarch. Enid is crying as she's pulled forcefully to her parent's side. Wednesday puts on a stoic face while being escorted into a police car for questioning.
"Wednesday!"
"Enid," Wednesday whispers, jerking her body to face her. The officers tighten their grip on her arms and try to wrestle her forwards.
Enid breaks free from her mother's grasp and kisses Wednesday for the first time. Her lips are warm and fleeting. She is frozen by her touch even as Enid leaves, like Orpheus watching Eurydice return to death.
And as they lock eyes, and as Enid's family cuts off all contact between them, and as Gomez and Morticia just barely dodge criminal charges once more, and as the years pass by, Wednesday Addams knows that she could never release Enid Sinclair from her heart. That she would never release Enid Sinclair from her heart, even if it meant tracking her down at any expense.
So when the piranhas bite and she is expelled, Wednesday knows exactly what school she'd like to go to next.
"Nevermore, my alma mater," her mother grins, "and you can see Enid, too."
Wednesday smiles.