"C'mon lets get you home," he put her arm around his shoulder. She couldn't carry any of her own weight; but Van Helsing was fully recovered and was willing to carry her. A few muttered directions from her and he led her home.
It was small but cozy, a nice little place, with interesting little knickknacks all over. A bedroom, a sitting room, a kitchen, and another bedroom which was used as a small library to house dozens and dozens of books, composed the entire house.
He cleaned up her cuts and put her in bed while she faded in and out of consciousness.
The next morning Rossalyn woke up around noon. She was unbelievably sore and groaned at the effort it took to sit up. Van Helsing entered the room.
"You stayed all night?" she asked sounding confused.
He caught the look on her face, she was embarrassed and puzzled. For a moment he pondered why that might be so until he arrived at the conclusion, she had never had someone to stay the night and make sure she would be safe.
He nodded quietly, "good library in there." He had spent most the night reading in between going quietly into her room to check her injuries and make sure she was still alive. He quietly checked the more serious injuries she'd sustained.
"You didn't have to stay I would have been fine," she sounded slightly embarrassed.
He laughed humorlessly, removing a bandage. "You saved my life last night Rossalyn. I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay."
"I think that might be the first time you've called me Rossalyn," she said curiously. "Half Weres heal quickly," she muttered embarrassed, as he squinted at her almost completely healed wound. "Thank you; but don't just hang around because you owe me. I'm sick of people doing that."
Van Helsing looked up at her, "maybe it's not just because I owe you." He gave her one of his rare smiles. She smiled back, slowly but surely. "You gonna be okay?" he asked quickly.
She nodded, "I'll be fine. Hungry?" she asked. Before he could object she leapt out of bed, and started toward the kitchen, tearing off bandages as she went.
She made breakfast; but the moment wasn't as awkward as Van Helsing had feared it might be. Something about saving each others lives had made conversation more comfortable, thrown some trust somewhere in the twisted emotions of the two.
She made some eggs and some sort of greasy meat, which was good enough for Van Helsing. She had watched him a little as she'd cooked. She'd never looked at him without his hat and heavy leather trench coat.
He was very tall, muscled, thicker set, sculpted, and had scars running up and down his arms. His hair was long and dark brown, slightly wavy, and his eyes were like amber.
She handed him a plate he ate from looking like he hadn't eaten properly in a month. She cleaned up the kitchen nibbling slightly on the leftovers.
"So are you going to stay until the next full moon?" she asked at one point.
He swallowed. "I have to don't I? Unless you've got reason to believe Everard didn't survive."
"No, he's persistent, he'll be back; but Everard is my problem, you should go home." It wasn't disrespectful; she emphasized the last word, like that was all she needed to say.
"Home is over rated. Besides we're in this together," he said, not to be put off that easily. She smiled over at him.
"So you, the great Gabriel Van Helsing, are stuck in our little town for twenty nine days. Whatever will you do to pass the time?" she asked playfully.
"I have a feeling you will be kicking me out of your library at night, and feeding me during the day," he called back just as playfully.
"Well that's not very interesting," she smiled.
"I know, it's great!"
A quick friendship blossomed between the two. Rossalyn quit her job at the bar, saying only that she had enough money, and the job was merely to distract her.
Rossalyn was eager to share her experiences about the pack life of a Werewolf to Van Helsing who was just as eager to learn about it. She in turn was enthralled by his stories about his escapades, listening and asking questions at just the right times. Though both were quiet people and could appreciate friendly silence at the same time.
They spent most of the days of Van Helsing's imprisonment, as they called it, together; learning, listening, and laughing.
Van Helsing had been right about her. An ounce of force did nothing to make her less stubborn, it was only a challenge she would readily answer, a smile and a caring word usually did more to make her open. She could when opportunity struck her, he thought, be almost sweet.
On one evening in particular they had both been caught up in the stories of her library, when Van Helsing had asked her about the abilities she and Everard and this new generation of Werewolves had.
She told him that Everard was what was called a Half-Were like her. The child of two humans of Were kind.
Half Weres had many abilities, the abilities most Weres only had when they were fully turned, at all times. Such as heightened senses, they were stronger than most unturned Weres, and she had revealed the next part with a shudder.
"As long as the moon is visible, even if it's during the day, Half Weres can force themselves into a sort of half turned state. That's the state Everard was in when he scratched me," she unconsciously drew gentle fingers down her cheek, tracing the line of the red scar.
"Everard was the one that scratched you?" Van Helsing asked, some anger boiling inside him.
She nodded, as though it didn't bother her much.
"What really happened to you two?" he found himself asking. "Why did he call you his little sister that night, and say those things?" When he'd posed the questions to himself he felt as if he were treading on a past she clearly wanted to keep hidden.
She looked over at him, her face open, as though trying to decide if she wanted to tell him. Apparently he won over her uncertainties, "When I ran away from the pack, it wasn't because I'd gotten lost. I'd hit my head on a rock, and the pack had gone on without me, not realizing I was missing.
"When I woke up someone had found me, stayed to make sure I was okay. His name was Michael. He was the best friend I ever had. When I told him what I was he wasn't afraid of me. He encouraged me that I was doing the right thing trying not to turn. One night I killed another person. At that point I was frantic trying to stop turning, I was losing hope though. I vowed if I couldn't stop myself turning the next time, I was going to kill myself rather than hurt more people."
Van Helsing listened intently; he heard the truth echoing in her words, everything about the story ringing true with what he knew about her.
"That night I was about to give up, I didn't think I could do it. I had resigned myself to one final turn. Michael came running in when I was about to turn. I told him to go back, that I was dangerous; but he didn't listen," she put on a sad smile. "He stayed with me, told me if I wanted to be noble and save his life I couldn't let myself turn. I had to fight to save myself as hard as he knew I would fight to save him. He stayed with me the whole night. That was the first time I didn't turn.
"After that things only got better. A few years later it hardly bothered me on full moons. He really made the difference in my life. Soon after that though, Everard found me. He thought I'd gotten lost from the pack, he was so happy to see me." Her smile was cold and empty. "When I tried to explain to him, why I couldn't do it anymore he got so angry.
"When we were younger, we got picked on a little because we were different, well me mostly, Everard was bigger and stronger. So he told people he was my sister for a while, to protect me, sure enough people backed off. We were a pack and a family for a while, friends for a long time, more than friends for a short while," her form of blushing was getting a slightly red tinge to her pale cheeks.
"When he found out I left, he said if I'd done something dishonorable as long as I fought back I should have my right to live; but what I'd done was too disgraceful to let me live. He tried to kill me," Van Helsing's blood ran cold, his anger towards Everard growing.
"He was always stronger, but Michael had taught me a lot. I won, I could have killed him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I let him live, he couldn't do anything after that. Honor is everything to a Wolf pack," she repeated like she had so many times before.
"He owed me his life and so he couldn't kill me. So he rooted out Michael, just to spire me. He could smell him on me, and he hunted him down. I barely got there in time. I saved Michael and swore if I ever saw Everard go near him again, I would finish the job I started. Out of anger, he clawed at me forgetting the debt he owed me. That's where I got the scar," she traced the lines again, "after he forced himself into the Half Were state."
"And so he's back?" Van Helsing asked.
She came out of her contemplative state. "He hates me for what I did; he can't understand why I did it. He's determined to kill me, the fact he can't do it himself only makes it a game to him. Next time I won't hesitate, I'm bringing him down." Her face was resolved.
"What happened to Michael?" Van Helsing asked at length.
She smiled again, "got married, had a few kids, died of old age." She seemed at peace with the matter that left Van Helsing wondering how old she was. She had told him she had no idea what the life span of a Half Were was.
She laughed, "Old enough to look back at my past realize I don't remember most of it, or want to, young enough to not have any immediate concerns for the future." She always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking about.
"How about a number?" he asked with a smile.
"You first," she said a grin on her face.
"I don't know," he responded truthfully.
"Old, but not anywhere near past my prime," she smiled, he rolled his eyes.
"My goodness women and fixing a number!" he laughed. She stuck his tongue out at him, setting aside her book. "Not very mature I see!"
"Well that subject aside, I want to keep a lookout tomorrow night, it's the quarter moon. Everard might Half Turn and hurt someone, and I can't let that happen."
"Alright I'll come with you," Van Helsing agreed quickly.
"Than this should be fun, he probably won't show up, but if he gets in that forest I'll be able to smell him three miles off."
Van Helsing smiled, her quirks didn't bother him. He had many of his own; hers just leveled the playing field.
"Alright," he stood, grabbing his things; and left for his temporary home.
Part of him was ill at ease with this friendship, he was starting to love Rossalyn like a sister, but he moved around a lot, people weren't around him long enough to make friends and usually that was the way he liked it. A part of him was already bracing for the inevitable blow he knew leaving was going to cause him. Thing about family and friends, it just made it hurt that much more when you had to leave.