Another warning about my crush on Hugh Jackman; but I must say Chapter Six was better work. This chapter if for ReaderFreak, who I am fairly certain is the only one reading. But that's okay, you always write reviews!!

A few hours of a sleep that was more quiet contemplation than anything else Rossalyn woke up.

When Van Helsing entered the room, she was no where to be seen. He leapt into action at once. "Rossalyn!" he barked. He had only been out of the room a moment, which even that he had been a little apprehensive to do.

The healers had informed him Rossalyn was stable and going to make a full recovery. She should probably stay the night, the healers lived close by, and they would give her a final examination in the morning, before letting her leave. They would have the little infirmary to themselves that night. Which, on the edge of the town, Van Helsing hoped wouldn't attract any attention, when Rossalyn went through the pain of trying not to turn.

His heartbeat began to race when he couldn't find her. What if Everard had been watching? "Rossalyn!" he barked louder, he covered the ground in long strides. He went into the narrow hallway, when Rossalyn stepped out of a room and almost ran into him.

"What is it?" she asked, swallowing the last bite of a piece of bread she held between her fingers.

Van Helsing sighed with relief, "don't worry me like that." He tried to sound a little menacing; but with the relief in his voice the effect was minimal at best.

She looked rather let down, she rolled her eyes. "Van Helsing I'm fine." She tried to move past him in the cramped hallway. But with Van Helsing standing, even sideways, in the tiny hall, she could hardly move past him. "You can't protect me forever," she admonished.

He stuck his left shoulder out at an angle to black her way. "Why not?" he asked, staring at her unabashedly. She lost the natural brightness she always wore on her countenance; and read between the lines of what he was saying.

They were standing so close. Van Helsing could smell her perfume; feel her calm breath against his skin. They were compacted unmercifully in the little hall; but somehow she stood so they weren't touching.

He moved slowly, leaning closer and closer, all the while his eyes trained frozen to her face. Eventually he was right up against her, his face right next to hers. Both of them moved suddenly. Before either knew what was happening, they were pressed firmly against one another. His hand around her waist, hers on the back of his neck.

He recognized the sensation come flooding back. The same feeling he'd had that night in the woods; but now he welcomed it. Their lips barely brushing against each others, eyes trained on the others. A light kiss, a moment's stare, another, each growing deeper and deeper, until there was no pause.

His heart was beating violently, and he could feel his blood speeding through his veins, growing warmer and warmer.

Monks take vows of celibacy, he found himself thinking. He was all for abstinence until marriage; but why in the hell celibacy?

He held her against him, his arm around her shoulders, watching as the sun began a gold and scarlet sunset. They still had time before Rossalyn would be in pain; but not enough, each moment felt precious.

"What can we do?" Rossalyn finally asked, reflecting the thoughts going through Van Helsing's own mind. "I can't stay here any longer, its past time for me to move on, and the healers won't keep my miraculous recovery quiet for long."

"I've been thinking about that. You'll come back to Rome with me, back to the Vatican." Van Helsing couldn't leave her.

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," she teased.

"It's all well earned. Basically, if you say no, I'll carry you all the way there," he teased right back. "I love you," he whispered softly, laying his head against hers.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Rossalyn's head swiveled around toward the back of the room. Van Helsing was immediately put on edge, "what is it?" She drew a finger to her lips, keeping her eyes glued to the back of the room. She rose silently.

She hadn't heard anything, she'd felt it: a surge of anger at Van Helsing's words. But it had been more than anger, it had been rage, and though the word seemed to convey none of the passion with which she had felt it….it was hatred.

She approached the back of the room silently; walking on the balls of her feet. She closed her eyes and listened. Then she heard the brush of someone or thing against the bushes. Adrenaline pumped into her system.

She walked silently back to where she'd sat, focusing on listening as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky. Van Helsing clearly wanted to shout the question tugging at him; but remained silent. She drew his hand into hers, and displayed his palm where she began to trace letters on it with her finger. An H…E…S, she wiped at is palm with the back of her hand, L…I…S…T…E…N…I…N…G.

Van Helsing nodded, he mouthed his question 'where'?

She tilted her head towards the back of the house, which was covered by the woods. Van Helsing stood; he crossed the room and grabbed the six shooter with silver bullets loaded into each chamber. He cushioned the sound as best he could and pulled back the hammer on the gun. He was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to keep his presence quiet, he merely wanted to give the illusion he didn't know Everard was there.

He crossed to Rossalyn and kissed her quickly. "This ends tonight," he didn't bother to whisper. Rossalyn nodded. Van Helsing kissed her again before passing through the door.

Rossalyn almost collapsed at the feeling of hatred and desire she glimpsed from the absent Everard. Van Helsing was in more danger then he could imagine, only she and Everard knew what he could truly be capable of. And he, at this moment, no longer wanted to kill Rossalyn; he wanted to make her suffer, by killing Van Helsing instead.

Van Helsing stepped into the forest area. He gave the area a quick scan with his eyes, before continuing onward. He would have to catch Everard by surprise. He closed his eyes, barely able to see the faint path in front of him; and put all of his concentration on listening, waiting for Everard to strike. He drowned out the sound of his own footfalls and focused solely on the sounds of the forest around him.

Hesitantly he heard him. Everard began to follow him. His footsteps were so faint Van Helsing was tempted to dismiss them as his own musings. But he focused on them, imagining Everard in his mind's eye.

Everard allowed him to venture fairly deep into the woods, the sun sinking ever lower. But Everard wanted to attack while she was still in a conscious state, a state where she could feel the pain he hoped this would cause her. Maybe then she would turn again and Everard could accept her again as his sister and as his partner; the pair they were always meant to be. It definitely wasn't love. He hated her for what she had done; but perhaps a need for someone else; someone who was like him, trapped in the same state of eternal misery and confusion. He needed to see that person's strength, he didn't want to be alone; but enough of him hated her, he wouldn't regret watching her die if it came to it.

Van Helsing waited, he was drawing closer, slowly gaining on him; under the impression he was defenseless. He would have to wait until he was too close for him to miss. Everard grew careless and cocky, soon Van Helsing could hear his desperate breath; and then he leapt.

Like a wolf from its hiding place, he leapt at his prey. Van Helsing turned on his heel, a bullet loosed from the muzzle of the gun; and hit him right in the heart. He fell to the ground, stunted in his magnificent leap. Van Helsing remained, he crossed himself; and stepped over him as he made his way back through the woods.

But as he passed out of ear shot he heard something. He turned and saw Everard, breathing labored, rise. Everard reached at the spot he was bleeding at and shoved two fingers inside the wound. And after a moment's disbelief Everard pulled the bloody silver from his chest. He glanced at Van Helsing glaring at him in repulsion and saw him; he smirked and flicked the bullet away. Another moment, this of concentration, and the deep wound in his chest sealed itself.

Everard turned his neck, and two loud cracks sounded. "Beautiful thing about being the first of a species: you get to learn all these neat little tricks." He launched himself at Van Helsing.

Van Helsing was fully unprepared for this, and he dropped the gun. He went limp and felt the slickness of the movement as Everard rammed into his like a speeding brick wall, and knocked him onto his back. In the moment, inertia still propelling them Van Helsing threw his body backwards, and the two tumbled over again, Van Helsing landing on top of Everard.

In the moments of surprise a punch to the jaw was loosed by Van Helsing. Everard took it; but when the next blow came, he caught it. Just like that, with a hand, Van Helsing's fist went straight into his palm.

The next few moments were a struggle, Van Helsing landed several blows; but Everard was propelled with strength and stamina from the full moon rising above them. It didn't seem to matter what he did to him, each blow did nothing but a moment's damage. However Everard's strikes did more damage than any Van Helsing had felt before. Each punch was like a brick, thrown at top velocity. After only a few he was hanging onto consciousness. Then Everard picked him up and threw him against a tree, and a snap was clearly audible.

From the location of the pain, Van Helsing was fairly certain it was a broken rib. He was hanging onto consciousness by his fingernails, only awake because death was the other option, for him and Rossalyn. Everard approached him; he had a hunting knife in his hand, drawn from a sheath in his boots. He bent his knees.

"I'm amazed. You really put up a nice fight; it really took me this long to kill you. But you are Rossalyn's last defense, she'll fail after this. You were the last thing in between her and acceptance. I really can't believe she let you stand there this long," it sounded genuine. Van Helsing would have retorted, or at least spat in his face; but he was still trying to fill his lungs with the air that had been knocked from them.

"She didn't used to be like this you know; this passive," he spoke the word disdainfully. "She used to be a great warrior, and she will be again. She's become a coward, with enough fear to let you die for her. When she knew, even she wouldn't be able to beat me." He laughed coldly and mercilessly, as though only he could appreciate the real irony and humor of the moment.

"I can't believe she let you wander out here tonight, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to beat me." He raised the hunting knife. "Se la vi."

A figure appeared behind Everard, and a blade was pressed to his throat. "I didn't."

In the shadowed light before the sun was fully hidden, she was easy to discern. She'd torn off the bandages that had covered her, and stood at the end of a sword, Everard's life in her hands.

He turned his head gently to look at her, and a smile came to his lips. "You little…"

"Ah ah ah!" she muttered, pressing the blade more firmly to his throat. "I'm holding all the cards now. Drop the knife," she ordered.

Everard poised it over Van Helsing's body. She merely raised her eyebrows in response. "You really think I won't kill you?" she asked.

"I think I'm going to die anyway, might as well take him with me; seeing as your out of reach, at any rate. Why shouldn't I?" he asked.

"Because I'll give you a chance," she replied coldly. He raised his eyebrows.

"Why?" he was even cocky enough to question that hand that was feeding him.

"Because, the brother I knew was the most amazing person I think I've ever met, except Michael, God rest his soul," she admitted. Everard shrugged. "And I don't want to kill him until I know that he will never return."

Everard gave a confused but accepting look and buried the knife into the dirt, while Van Helsing fought to stay conscious.

She backed away and removed the blade at his throat, allowing him to rise, before tossing a sword and scabbard at him. "We fight like our ancestors."

He grabbed the sword with lightening fast reflexes, and drew it just as quick, as though afraid she might change her mind.

"I, Rossalyn Calcavanti, release you, Everard Mondego, of the debt you owe me of one life spared."

Everard huffed, "that's your mistake." He struck.

She parried instantly. Everard moved quickly with grace and speed as though the sword weighed nothing to him. Rossalyn fought just as fiercely, with unmatched grace; doubtless the two had learned the lost art many years previous before it had vanished in a world of quicker answers.

Rossalyn held onto her sword tightly, with sweating hands, she hadn't done this in a while. Van Helsing had almost caught her when she'd snuck from the infirmary to her home to retrieve the weapons. She'd had to sneak in through the kitchen window.

Rossalyn fought with no defense, she was ruthless and calculating with an overwhelming offence. Everard parried blows easily, like they were nothing, his strength was as such, but second greatest gift lie in swift offensive blows.

The two had dueled each other more than any other person, admittedly without ill intent; but knew what to expect. The better of the two had always been Everard. His defense was perfect, he could parry every blow, and all he needed was a single opening to throw in a single blow.

Van Helsing watched in awe, he had never found the sword to be a particularly useful skill, and had not sought to improve his already formidable skill; but watching their ease made him want to try.

"It's no use Rossalyn, you can't win. I admit, it looks like you've been practicing and," he swiped his sword at her feet. "You've learned a few tricks." She leapt and the sword cut through the air arcing to protect its master again. "But I've always been stronger, I always will be, and," he looked at the horizon and the last few inches of sun left, "your time is up." The sun dipped below the horizon and the world was thrown into darkness, as eyes acclimated Rossalyn gave a cry of pain.

Everard relaxed and his body began to shift, he wouldn't go into his full were form, he couldn't grip a sword and there was his advantage. He threw back his head and howled his voice shifting from human imitation to a true wolf's cry. His arms lengthened, he became taller. Muscles grew, creating taut and harsh lines of definition on his body.

His face changed as well. He blinked and his eyes changed, he could see perfectly in the dark and colors were skewed so they were barely distinguishable to him. His face was given a more muzzle like likeness. He could smell everything and could have operated perfectly well with only that. The sounds of the night were thrown into sharp clarity; every sound was the signature of what lay around him. The stupid human laying on the ground struggling to breath, Rossalyn's cry of pain, and the sounds of the forest all calling out to him.

By the time the process was finished he was eight feet tall, standing still on his hind legs. He was more of a human abomination than animal. His skin remained, but he felt a great likeness to the strength lent him in his full Were form.

He still retained the sword which felt as though it weighed ounces, if that. As he took in his surroundings he saw Rossalyn, she drew herself full height. He felt confusion flood him; she was as tall as he! Then he saw the less than subtle differences, she had turned into her Half Were state.

"No!" he shouted. This is what he had wanted; but in this form he feared her. They were pack; he knew what she was capable of, how natural the state was to her. "How?!" was all he demanded.

It had been painful for a moment. Not only physically; but spiritually. Initially she'd fought it, when she'd issued the cry. To allow herself to become what she had fought for so long, bombarded her with doubts. But as she'd given herself over to the need that she'd denied herself for so long. And stood nearly nine feet, broader, stronger, more powerful, with her senses so acute, somehow it all felt right.

"Once you accept what you are Everard, the possibilities are endless."