Disclaimer: I do not own Ginger Snaps or anything related to it. I wished I owned Kris Lemche though...damn my luck.
A/N: I wasn't a very big fan of how Ginger Snaps ended (Sam and Ginger DEAD?! Who came up with that anti-climatic piece of crap?) So I've decided to twist it into something a little different. If I like how this goes this will be more than a one-shot. Brigitte/Sam.
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"I can't! I won't!" Brigitte yelled, Sam's blood still dripping off her chin. The walls of the damp basement reverberated her words, and Ginger lifted her bloody muzzle, growling threateningly at her sister's refusal.
She backed away from her the thing that she used to consider her sister and Sam's bleeding body. She wasn't a monster, she couldn't kill another human being, especially one she had began to consider a friend. Ginger advanced slowly across the wooden floor, her limbs moving with deadly determination, and Brigitte gripped the syringe tightly. She wasn't going to die here, she repeated to herself, she couldn't. Their were still too many people she needed to save. Sweat dripped from her forehead, and Ginger moved towards her.
Brigitte turned, the soles of her boots scratching the floor, as she left Ginger in her wake. She cursed herself for leaving Sam behind and for the pain searing in her lower back as she leaped up the stairs, pictures crashing around her as she fell violently into walls on her way up. Her sister let out an insane howl from close behind her, so shrill it pierced Brigitte's ears like chalk on a chalkboard as she reached the last stair.
Brigitte fell to her knees, dropping the syringe suddenly and fastening her hands to her ears, shrieking in pain. Lucky for her, however, as she collapsed, Ginger had picked her moment to make her kill. She soared over Brigitte, glass shattering around them both as she flew out the nearby window, yelping as she descended. Brigitte, screaming "Ginger!" at the top of her lungs, unable to take any more pain, felt a calm blackness take over her, and she passed out.
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She was crawling towards Sam in the basement, her eyes matching the color of his blood, her long, sharp nails scratching the wooden floor up like a hamster with cardboard. Ginger eyed her warily and she bent her head down, lapping up Sam's blood, as an attempt to prevent Ginger catching wind of her plan to grab her off guard and stab her with the syringe.
But the moment her lips touched his blood, a new feeling surpassed her fear and worry...hunger, a bloodthirsty hunger ached through her and she found herself gulping his blood down like lemonade on a hot day. She thought at one point he whispered her name desperately, but she ignored it, growing wild with every lap of her tongue, Ginger egging her on. She began to tear into his skin, ripping it from his bones, focused entirely on the taste of him, because he tasted oh-so-good, and she believed she could go on forever, gnawing on him until hell froze over. How could she have ever thought what Ginger's murders were horrible? Her killing Sam was the most pleasurable, satisfying, fucking-amazing feeling she had ever experienced.
Ripping...
Tearing...
Tasting...
She felt a change sweep through and she doubled over, her skin feeling as though two people had grabbed hold of each side and pulled with all of her might, her brain hurt with a splitting ache, and her spine seemed to be tearing into two. She welcomed it however, and moaned, mixing her pleasure with the pain, rolling in Sam's blood as Ginger tore into his face, chewing it into something undecipherable. Her body felt like molding clay and it twisted into a new, wolf-life shape. Hair spread out among her back and new muscles rippled as she the pain disappeared, and she flexed menacingly before returning to Sam, her human feelings forgotten, and all she could think of was the feeling of his skin between her sharp fangs, the warm blood on her new muzzle, and the entire feeling of her werewolf-self devouring him...
Devouring him...
Devouring him...
Devouring him...
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Brigitte woke with a start, gasping for breath, her arms clenching her stomach, her body sprawled across the last couple of stairs. She shook the drowsiness from her system and clumsily got to her feet, looking out at the sun-lit window. How long had she been passed out? Why hadn't her parents found her? Was Ginger alive? Was Sam still bleeding fifteen feet away?
She rubbed her blood-shot eyes and looked out the window. Blood-streaked glass surrounded the place where Brigitte guessed she had landed, but Ginger herself was nowhere to be found. Brigitte wasn't sure whether to sigh in relief or tense in fear. Brigitte also noted that her mother's van lay vacant from the driveway. Had her mother searched for them night, ignorant that one of her daughters lay bleeding on the staircase? She didn't even want to begin thinking about her dad.
She then remembered Sam.
"Sam?!" She called as she rushed down the stairs, "Are you okay?" She bounded off the last stair and wrapping her coat around her, stared at another blood-streaked area that had been vacated.
"Oh fuck." She realized. Sam must had been infected and his injuries had healed. This was bad.
She dragged her hands down her face, her freshly sprouted claws cutting her skin. She cried out, sinking to the floor. She was slowly, but surely becoming a werewolf. She could feel the blood trickle down her thigh, and the terrible pain in her abdomen was far from letting up. How was she going to solve all of her problems when she herself was becoming one of them?
She crawled towards the staircase, pain taking over again, when she noticed the glint of the syringe on the floor. She went towards it, and grasping it into her hands as quickly as possible, plunged it into her skin. Brigitte called out in pain and lay on the floor, covered in a layer of sweat, shaking uncontrollably. She was kept in this state for a minute or so and then just lay there, the searing pain gone, staring blankly at the barren walls of the basement. Was she cured like Jason? She sure as hell felt better.
Brigitte pulled herself up, fueled with a new sense of courage. She had to bring the serum to Ginger, wherever she had to run off to. She walked comfortably up the stairs, the blood trickling down her leg the only thing reminiscent of infection. Brigitte pasted the hallway hurriedly, getting a few tampons from her mother's drawer and the ingredients for the serum, before heading out the front door in a new change of clothes. She needed help to make a new batch and to hunt down Ginger.
She needed to find Sam.