As much as he wanted to wait until next month, unfortunately, the middle phase of the full moon was tonight. He couldn't let her kill another person. It was easy enough to figure out she went deep into the forest using a faint game trail. Then she let herself turn in a clearing; where she became the black werewolf that killed innocent villagers for the fun of it, like a sick sport.

He had a revolver in hand, with a silver bullet loaded in the chamber. One shot is all he would need. He faced a lot of creatures in his line of work. Werewolves were one of the most difficult creatures to kill, but only when they had turned. The sky was cloudless tonight, which meant once she had turned, he wouldn't catch a break. So he was waiting, he was downwind of the site where she turned, and as long as she came tonight to turn, she never would again.

Werewolves were a touchy subject with him. At first when the priest had told him this was his next assignment he had tried to refuse. He knew the unfairness of being turned, which gave him sympathy, but he also hated werewolves when he thought of Anna's beautiful face, which fueled his hatred. It was conflicting and confusing, but in the end a werewolf killed innocent people, and so it was his duty to end it.

He couldn't even hear her footsteps until she was 30 feet away. Her steps on the path were soft and faint. He raised the revolver; one shot is all it would take. She was wearing a heavy black cloak, the hood raised to hide her face. Although the eyes were shinning from under the hood; even though the sun was still sinking behind the hills.

When she got to the clearing she pulled off the cloak and hung it neatly on a branch. From inside of it she drew out a pair of chains. She wrapped the chains around a thick tree and shackled her arms, the second set meant for her legs.

Van Helsing could feel his heart tighten; she didn't want to kill people. She was trying to stop herself. No wonder she was still killing, those chains were nowhere near thick enough for a werewolf. It only made him hesitate for a moment, when the soft clink of the chains around her arms fastened, he cocked the gun.

Her head turned instantly, searching. He wanted to swear, werewolves had deepened senses; but he'd never heard of them being so acute. She searched from under her veil of hair. Van Helsing waited.

Her eyes scanned the ground below him; he let his eyes flick to the ground. He really wanted to swear, the ground beneath him had a fair unusual number of leaves and twigs, which had fallen when he had climbed up.

He waited for her to look away, but her gaze rose and barely squinting, he knew she saw his face. He pulled the trigger without a second thought, and it would have hit her, if she hadn't whispered, "just do it."

The sound of her voice broke his concentration. Her voice was so soft and gentle, but lined with such deep thought and memory. She closed her eyes and looked away as he pulled the trigger, but the bullet buried itself into the wood of the trunk. Her eyes flashed instantly.

(Insert the exciting music here)

She started to take cover behind the tree. Van Helsing grabbed the crossbow he had hung from a branch, and rolled off the tree branch. She could hear it when he did, and she made a swift dive for the cloak which must have had the key inside it for such a desperate bid.

He hit the ground on his feet, and fired a shot. Her head jerked up at the noise, and she waved her arm in front of her face. A metal vambrace on her arm is all that kept an arrow from getting firmly embedded into her arm. The arrow glanced off of it, and she made for the cover of the tree again, abandoning the key.

Her hair was flying wild, revealing more of her face, her eyes were alive and shinning, but without fear, excitement was showing through. Van Helsing cast a glance toward the horizon, the sun was sinking beneath it, half gone already; he didn't have much time.

He barely moved in time to avoid catching a very large rock with his head. He swiveled to avoid it, but it got his crossbow. Now he was ticked off. He grabbed the silver knife out of a sheath at his waist. He moved quietly, her heaving breath covering the soft sounds of his footfalls. He had barely caught her in his line of sight when she spotted him.

She saw the close range weapon, and held her ground. "I'm not the one you're seeking," she called taking a fighting stance.

"I can not tell you how many times I've heard that," Van Helsing made a quick bid towards her. Her leg swept up and kicked the blade out of his hand.

"How many times have you tried to listen?" she asked calmly.

He rubbed his hand; she was faster than she looked. He calmed himself and steadied his breathing, a quick glance at the horizon as he picked up the six inch hunting blade.

"You've got a full five minutes until the moon rises and you turn, until that point you're shackled to a tree, and I've got a knife," he reasoned, hoping five minutes was true. He pulled down the mask covering his face.

"You don't understand I'm not going to turn!" she cried desperately.

"Sure," he could see the way that plan would end.

"I'm not lying to you!" she cried, as he made another swift attack, he laid a deep cut on her arm, before she elbowed him in the chest and sent him flying with a swift kick. The next second she was pushing against the tree with her leg, the chains groaning slightly.

Van Helsing laughed, until the chains creaked dangerously. Even unturned werewolves weren't strong enough to break chains like that. The strain was reflected on her face. But unbelievably a link on the opposite side of the trunk snapped. The chains went flying, Van Helsing had to leap backwards to avoid being hit.

The woman cried out as the chains lashed her bare skin, but she looked over with a half-smile of triumph. Van Helsing didn't understand, clearly this wasn't like other Weres, she was much too strong, her senses too acute.

"I have heard of you," she began to twirl the chains still shackled to her arms. "You are the one they call Van Helsing, who defeated Dracula at the Vatican, the one they called Hyde in London, and countless others. You are a hero and a murderer. I would not wish to kill you, I appreciate what you do; but my sense of self-preservation is stronger." Her voice was cold, calm, and calculating.

"Yeah I know what you mean," he said softly, he went at her again. He grabbed one of the chains, and tried for a clean stab to the stomach. But she pivoted as he grabbed a chain. One of the pair smacked into his side, sending a wave of pain through his body, he gritted his teeth. Another one smacked the knife from his hand.

When he turned she was already running out of the clearing. He grabbed the knife and followed. Normally such a creature could have outdistanced him easily; but the chains she was trying to gather up were hindering her progress.

She was running light footed, and he could barely keep up, but the weight of the chains snagging at trees, and the profusely bleeding side wounds, and the one on her arm, were all working against her.

Van Helsing put on an extra burst of speed, and threw himself on top of the werewolf, who fell to the ground. He got to his knees, one on the ground one at the broad of her back. He slid the blade under her throat, and was about to pull it across, when she cried out.

"Wait!" her voice trembling, barely audible through how much she was panting. "I'm not fighting back, I'm sick of fighting for my right to live damn it! If you think I'm a Were than kill me! But if you have the smallest amount of doubt than you have to let me live. I don't care much one way or the other; but in the name of God, do your duty."

Suddenly the small amount of light that was present vanished. Van Helsing, without lowering his guard looked back. The sun was entirely hidden, a quick glance up revealed the moon shinning brightly.

"Told you so," she whispered.