Chapter 2: Mother

Hours later, both Lycans were hydrated. They had gulped down gallons of water. Almost two days of needing to heal and not drinking any water would do that to you.

Ginger dropped the blue coat over her shoulders, the end snapping at the back of her legs. She glowered at Sam who buttoned up his jacket, obscuring the bloodstains covering his shirt and the rips from any prying eyes. She had chosen a dark red, deep dipping V-neck, her bird's skull necklace that matched Brigitte's hung from her neck. She was sporting a scarlet leather skirt that barely covered her crotch and high black satin stockings.

Her white hair had some streaks of orange in it. Maybe Sam was imagining it, but it looked like it was returning to the color it was before gradually. Her eyes started turning bright blue as well-stopped looking so soulless.

"I didn't think Lycans could turn back." He said quietly, sliding his eyes to the entrance of the house where his yellow-needless to say, damaged and battered van stood, floor splattered trunk open and exposed to any that looked at it. He glanced back at Ginger, a dark smile gracing his lips as he eyed the skirt, "A little chilly down there?"

Ginger snorted, strutting towards the door, "Don't bullshit me, stoner. I'm a werewolf. I don't feel cold ever. This is fucking incredible. Speaking of looks," She smirked, "you might want to check your eyes out." Sam froze, glaring hatefully. His eyeballs and vision had healed up completely. The whole of both his eyes were back and he could see again in both eyes. They both still hurt like a bitch though, and it was enough to make him want to throttle Ginger, despite his submission to her.

Noticing his anger, she chuckled, "Get over it, Sammie. And I didn't mean that. The color. Check out the color, genius."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. But thinking about the silver-blue eyes that Ginger had had a few minutes ago before transforming back to "normal," (was there such a thing as normal for Ginger?) and walked further inside the house, over to the bathroom where he had pissed out a pool of blood from his genitals after drinking all that water. Ginger had had big laugh at that.

Sam looked at his eyes in the mirror, almost having a heart attack. "What the fuck?!" He grunted, nearly jumping back from the mirror. Looking right back at him were two fresh blood colored orbs.

A harsh laugh was heard behind him, "Yeah, wicked, huh? Love to see anyone try to get your drugs off you with a pair of peepers like those."

Sam turned and stared at the smirking Lycan woman. She nodded towards the van uncaringly. "Are we gonna go, or what?" She quipped, walking passed him. Sam sucked in a breath, taking one last look at his demonic red eyes before following his alpha out of the house.

When he got to the cab of the van, he pulled open the glove compartment and whipped out a black baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, jamming the cap, bill forward over his forehead, and slipping the glasses on.

Ginger watched him go around the van, closing the back doors hard, then walking over to the driver's seat. "If I'm going to drive us," He said, taking hold of the wheel, pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket that had blood flecks all over it, "I better hide my eyes. Let's go."

Ginger nodded, jumping up into the seat next to him. "Get moving, dumbass," She said, leaning back against the seat lazily, "B still has at least a few good days ahead of us. Her smell's barely there anymore. You smell it too, right? It's in that direction." She waved her left hand towards the left side of the road and Sam nodded, starting the car up. "We need a plan, you know?" He said, saying it slowly as if that should have been obvious to Ginger long ago, "We need to find out where she's gone. She might not even be in Baily Downs anymore. I know I constantly thought about getting out of here."

Ginger rolled her eyes, "Then what stopped you? You had a van and money from drugs and are an adult. You could've left. Stop moaning, start driving. We'll check around town. See if we can find her. If not, she's probably left." Sam cautiously looked at the red and white haired woman. "Have any idea where she might have gone?" He ventured, reaching for the stick to move the van backwards.

Ginger shrugged, "We sometimes talked about where we would go before fulfilling the pact." Sam put his foot on the brake, giving Ginger a genuinely confused look. "What?" Ginger asked, wrinkling her nose before understanding flashed across her eyes. "Oh shit, B didn't tell you?" She smirked again, "I really thought the two of you were close. See, here's the thing, Sammie, B and I had a pact we made when I was eight and B was seven. We were so close we decided we would be together forever," Sam pressed his lips together, not liking where this was going, given the morbid nature of the Fitzgerald sisters.

"We decided," Ginger continued, look up ahead through the windshield, "That we'd be 'out by sixteen or dead in the scene, together forever.'" Ginger turned to the horrified expression of Sam, "You get it, little boy? You have nothing on us."

Sam shook himself, disgust still marring his face. "You two seriously need help." He grumbled, backing out of the driveway.

Ignoring the chuckle he received from the alpha, Sam looked in his rearview mirror, almost getting a heart attack when another car, a dark blue minivan drove up and parked with a harsh shriek, forcing both Lycans to growl and jump, turning to look out their windows.

"What the fuck?" Sam asked, panicking.

"Oh, are you kidding me?" Ginger groaned in disbelief, "Pamela?!"

"Pamela? Who-?" Sam looked from Ginger to the minivan with utter confusion. Ginger seethed, "My mom. B and my mom. Dammit. Of all people to show up. This is such a bad time."

She checked, keeping her head low so the dimwitted woman in the minivan didn't see her.

The engine in the minivan was shut off and Pamela got out, heading towards the van. "Shit." Both Sam and Ginger grumbled.

Pamela reached the window of Sam's seat, looking in. She stood, that ever-present concerned look on her face. Seeing Sam, she hiding his face behind the sunglasses, she said, cautious, and honestly disturbed at his shady appearance, "Sir, what are you doing in my parking lot? At two o'clock in the morning?" She stared and Sam sat frozen, unsure how he should have reacted. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses, not exactly the most innocent appearance. He thought about smiling to reassure her, but muscled down that thought. The last thing she needed to see was a flash of his fangs.

"Um, ma'am," He said in a voice he knew was incredibly uncharacteristic of him, "I just got turned around and pulled into your driveway to turn around and go to where I need to. I'm just a little lost, you see?"

Pamela nodded, though she seemed apprehensive. "Okay." She began, lip turning in that nervous way Ginger recognized so well, "Where exactly are you hea-" Pamela stopped talking when her eyes lowered to who was leaning down in the seat next to Sam. The slouched, ducking figure, though half obscured by her ashen mane streaked with fiery tendrils, Pamela made out the shape of the face enough, even with the poor light. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, a mother's hope and desperation knew no bounds.

"Ginger?!" Pamela exclaimed, almost crying out louder than she had ever in her life.

Ginger flinched at her mother's tone. Damn. She swung herself up and turned, grinning wide at Pamela, fangs flashing, blue-white eyes vivid. "Yeah, Pamela?" She mocked. Mortification embodied crossed Pamela's face as she saw the appearance of her offspring. It was only then that Ginger noticed her mother holding a plastic container in her hands. A plastic container that immediately fell out of Pamela's trembling fingers and dropped to the sidewalk with a "thunk."

"Ginger?" Pamela repeated, voice small.

Ginger cocked her head, white and fiery hair cascading down her left shoulder as she grinned, "What's the matter, Pamela? Scared, are we?"

Sam practically moaned. Great. Just fucking great. "Ginger." He tried to reason but a dark chortle was the only response he received, "Ginger what, Sam? Might as well let her know what kind of a freak she has for a daughter. Sorry to rain on your perfect little world, mom, but I'm not human," Ginger leaned over Sam, grinning face getting dangerously close to the open window and the petrified woman behind it, "I haven't been for a while. And you might have known it if you weren't such an idiot. Say hello to your werewolf daughter, Pam."

Pamela's face had lost all color; her brown eyes were huge, her lower jaw trembled.

"Alright, alright." Sam snapped, opening his door, making Pamela back away fast, eyes never leaving the two Lycans. Sam jumped out of the van, watching as Pamela shook. "Okay," He began, trying to keep the panic out of his voice (unsuccessfully), "Ginger, she's got it. She's got the picture." He turned to the trembling woman, whose gaze kept shooting from him to the still chuckling Ginger who was getting out of his van, "Listen, Ma'am," He knew how corny he was about to sound, but it was really, really necessary when trying to hide one's Lycan identity, "Please just calm down. We're not going to hurt you."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." Ginger laughed, leaning back against the van, teeth bared in a monstrous grin. Sam swung his head around to stare at his alpha through the sunglasses. How far gone was Ginger? Had she been a monster her whole life? Was there any chance she'd kill her own mother? The question was would Ginger kill Pamela? The thought seemed unimaginable. Despite all his problems with his parents, especially his father, he could never imagine killing them.

"Ging….Ginger?" Pamela finally spoke, sounding almost squeaky. Sam turned back to her. "Ginger?" The ghostly pale woman repeated, "Is that really you? My baby? My little girl?"

Ginger snorted, "Not such a little girl anymore. Sorry, Pamela, but the two girls you've obsessed over and think are so perfect don't exist. Sorry to make your little delusional world shatter to pieces, but I'm not human anymore and Brigitte has flown the coop."

Pamela shook, looking like she was about to faint. Her huge brown eyes suddenly narrowed slightly. "Brigitte?" She managed out, voice cracking, "Where's Brigitte?" Ginger cackled, "Hear that, Sam? Through all that, when I've just told her I'm not human, the only thing she gets out of that is that Brigitte isn't here anymore." Her face turned to a grimace, "Well no, Pamela. Brigitte ain't here. She ran off after she stabbed me."

Pamela now looked completely baffled as well as stricken. "Wha…..wh-what?" Pamela stammered out, eyes panicked and flashing down to Ginger's body, checking it up and down. "She stabbed you?!"

Ginger shrugged, smirking, "Yep. I guess I'm being too much of a bitch. I was trying to bite her. But she stabbed me and now she's gone. And now," Her grin became huge again, "Sorry, Pamela but your girls are both werewolves. Brigitte got some of my blood in veins before she took off. She's infected now."

Pamela's utter befuddlement quickly was aided by Sam, realizing that nothing would help this situation that Ginger had put them in without some information added. "Okay," He began, "Ginger was bitten by a Lycan; a werewolf and Brigitte has her blood now," He added hesitantly, swallowing, "I was bitten by Ginger. I'm a werewolf too."

Pamela stared at them both, horror all across her face. Sam and he was sure Ginger too, could hear Pamela's thundering, terrified heartbeat. She then stared at Ginger, taking in her oldest child's appearance. "You're a werewolf?" She asked, her voice almost sounding like a laugh, Sam was guessing because of just how preposterous the situation was, "An actual werewolf? Like in the movies?"

Ginger rolled her blue-silver eyes, "Werewolf, sure, like in the movies? Nah. Silver doesn't do shit. And do you see a fucking full moon around here? Besides, that stab wound Brigitte gave me? It almost killed me. But I healed. But yeah, Pam, your kids are monsters now." Ginger turned her head to the plastic container where she smelled the cold residue of blood. The blue cap of the container had popped off on impact with the sidewalk. Some of what was inside revealed itself. Ginger narrowed her eyes. She recognized what it was. Fingers. Two severed fingers. Trina's severed fingers.

Ginger brought her head back up and grinned at the frightened Pamela, "But from the looks of it, you already knew that."

Pamela still looked like she was about to faint, like there was no blood left in her body, but she impressed Sam at that moment when she took a deep breath and took a step forward. She kept moving and Sam didn't have to turn to look at his alpha to know that Ginger was startled. He could hear her step back.

Pamela kept moving, despite now knowing that there were two werewolves standing in front of her-two creatures that could potentially kill her in one swipe. She reached a trembling right hand up, slowly placing it against Ginger's pale cheek, causing a shocked look to cross Ginger's face.

"My baby," Pamela whispered in a soothing voice, "You're not a monster. Neither you or Brigitte are. You're not monsters. You're my little girls, and you always will be."

In the history of Lycans, Sam was positive that no one had ever made two werewolves as shocked as Pamela had just made him and Ginger.

Ginger's eyes went wide and for a second, Sam was almost sure he saw a flash of vulnerability on the alpha's face before she forced her expression to become neutral. Before either Sam or Ginger could say anything else, Pamela turned to the plastic container with the severed fingers, scooped it up and faced them again, "We should get inside. Don't let anyone see or hear you, right?"

She took Ginger's claw covered hand in her free fragile, human one and started leading the white-haired Lycan to the house.

The stunned Ginger followed and so did Sam after locking his van up.

Once they were inside, Pamela put the container of fingers back into the freezer. She walked over to the couch, sitting down. Sam and Ginger both noticed how stiffly she moved and the remaining shock on her expression. So it looked like she was still recovering from what she had heard.

Once seated, she looked up at Ginger. "Where's your sister?" She mumbled, eyes glossed over by confusion. Ginger growled, "Do you think I would still be here if I knew that? I'd be on her trail fast. We don't know where she is. I think she left a few days ago. We were just about to check where she might have gone. But I think she's left town. We could track her because our sense of smell is wicked good." Ginger grinned wryly.

Pamela nodded, though Sam wondered if she really was able to absorb any of this.

"You'll help us find her, right, mom?" Ginger asked, cocking her head and making her voice nearly sweet as chocolate. Sam blinked, stunned. He turned and stared at the white-haired wolf, wondering how she pulled that off. Pamela's shell-shocked look seemed to fade and she nodded again, this time looking determined.

"We'll find Brigitte, sweetie," She said, smiling in adoration at her older daughter, "But first, we need to get rid of the evidence about that girl." Sam stepped back, eyebrows narrowing. Girl? What girl? What evidence?

"Girl?" Ginger voiced his thoughts before her voice lowered, "You mean Trina?"

Sam swung his head to stare at the amused alpha.

Pamela said from the couch, sounding tired, "Is that what her name was? Yes. We need to burn the house and the shed down so no one finds her body. No one will find out what you and Brigitte did. I'll destroy everything in this house and the shed and everything I own before anyone knows."

Sam turned and stared at the woman on the couch. Wait, Trina was dead? It more than likely had to do with Ginger. And her mom was covering it up. What the fuck kind of house did Ginger and Brigitte grow up in?! No wonder they were so messed up.

Ginger chuckled next to him and he looked at her, noticing her grinning at him. "What's the matter, Sammie? Scared?" She turned back to Pamela, "Good idea. What about Henry, though?"

Pamela shook her head, "No, Henry won't understand. He's a man. Men would never understand what we have to live with." Her eyes then found Sam and watched him suspiciously.

Sam, despite being a Lycan, suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Oh, him?" Ginger sneered, nodding to Sam, "Don't worry about it. He's like me. He's in the same situation. If I get caught, so does he. Besides, he's part of my pack or something like that."

Sam knew he should feel repulsed at being associated with as part of Ginger's "pack," but he wasn't. If anything, when he heard that, an odd warmth spread through his chest. He wondered what it was before the wolf in his mind seemed to let out whimpers of excitement. Oh.

Damn wolf instincts. The wolf in him was just happy to be part of a pack. It didn't matter who the alpha was. Wolves were by nature pack animals. His wolf was too pleased to know that it was acknowledged as the alpha's pack to think about the consequences. Then again, he was the one that was worried about how this would all play out, not the wolf.

He swallowed as Pamela got up and started talking about getting the gasoline to burn the house down. Dammit; this was going to be a crazy next few weeks, he knew it.