Shawn sighed. After securing the house, the cops had brought both him and the Matthews' to the police station and had questioned him thoroughly. Remembering a piece of advice his Uncle Mike had told him, he took care to keep his story straight. Yet, he also remembered his Aunt Lorena telling him to be a little vague and let them fill in the details themselves. "Then, I opened the door," he had told them, "I saw… Topanga there. And then, I saw a man in the room, holding Cory. No, officer, he wore a mask. …A werewolf mask. I was too scared to move, and I closed my eyes, and then when I opened them again, they were gone. No, no visible weapons. Well, he wasn't that tall, but he wasn't short either. Um, not skinny, but not fat… I'm not even sure it was a guy. I mean, it just happened so fast." He hoped by giving a vague description of the 'killer,' he could avoid putting an innocent man in jail.

Finally, the police left him alone to rest. The accommodations were much better than he had feared, a couch in a private room rather than a bench in a cell. While he hadn't committed any crime, he knew how infamous his family was, and had been afraid the cops would have marked him as a suspect.

Fortunately, they had let him keep his coat, in which he had placed Cory's journal. Now seemed like as good a time as any, so he took out the book and opened it up. Taking a deep breath, he began to read: October 31st, All Hallow's Eve. I, Cory Matthews, leave this journal so that those who knew me can understand my terrible fate. For tonight, at precisely nine o'clock, eight central, when the moon shines full, I will become the most terrifying of all creatures: the Werewolf.

He looked away from the book, suddenly experiencing an explosion of emotions that he didn't understand how to deal with. Fear, extreme fear, filled him as he cried tears of sadness. He cried for Topanga, ripped apart by a monstrous creature he knew to be his best friend. He cried with fear, as he knew that his best friend had tried to kill him too. He cried for the Matthews', who would likely never recover from this tragedy. He cried for himself, for he had lost the one person he could trust to an evil curse. But still, he cried for Cory, a wonderful friend who had been turned into a vicious killer.

"Oh, I know, honey," his mother's voice said from the doorway. She walked over and hugged him tightly, "This is just awful!"

"Mom?" he asked in surprise. Of course! The cops would have called my parents, he realized. He shut the book and set it beside him. "Is dad here?"

It came as a disappointment when she shook her head no, "He's off making some business deal."

"Yeah, of course he is," he agreed. More like playing poker for cash.

"Don't you worry about this killer," she told him, still hugging him tightly. "I called your Uncle Mike and…" She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning over to his ear, "We've put the family on alert. That killer won't last another week in Philly."

"That's great," he lied, sighing in despair. Now either Cory or my relatives will be killed. Perhaps it was for the best that Cory died… Except that I'm the only one who knows he's a werewolf, he realized. His family would be massacred without silver bullets, and he was pretty sure none of his relatives loved Cory. "I'd like to see Uncle Mike," he said, trying to keep his voice free of the urgency he felt.

"In the morning, honey," his mom told him. "The police will let us stay overnight. Frankly, son, I feel safer here…"

"I understand, mom," he said. Life in the trailer park could be rough, and he knew his mom sometimes didn't feel comfortable being married into a family of criminals. Still, for the most part, Hunters did look out for one another. He was sure his mother's call would be answered with speed. …But there was someone else who did know what Cory was, he realized.

----

Shivering in a cold wind, Cory blinked his eyes sleepily. Why didn't my alarm wake me up? Suddenly he realized he was outside, laying in the dirt. He looked around to find he was at the drive-in theater, closed until 9:00pm. Looking down at himself, he gasped in fear, realizing he was naked and covered in dried blood. What the hell happened last night? he wondered frantically.

"Okay, Cory, what's the last thing you can remember?" he asked himself, trying to stay calm. The wolf bite. He clearly remembered the large furry animal springing from the bushes to clamp down on his wrist. He felt a twinge of pain as he thought about it, but when he looked at his arm, he found he couldn't find the mark.

And then…? Later Eric had teased him about it, implying… something… He frowned; as hard as he tried to remember, many of his memories seemed hidden by a deep fog. Later, though, he remembered being furious with Shawn for some reason. He had a sudden, startling thought: Could Shawnie have… beaten me up and left me here? It was an incredible notion, and he would have dismissed it at once were it not for the memory of his murderous rage. If he had done something… bad… and we fought, then… maybe.

But what could he have done to cause such a thing? He tried hard to remember anything else from that night. A image came into his head: Topanga, looking more attractive than he had ever seen a girl be. He focused on the image, trying to bring out more details. She wore a dress – no, it was a Halloween costume… and she was confused, and then… Suddenly, he remembered Topanga's face with a look of pure terror written on her features.

He shivered again, knowing it was not just from the cold. What could have made her look like that…? He went back to his earlier rage at Shawn. If Shawn had tried to maybe… take advantage of her, it would explain why I was so angry and why we fought. However, it did not explain why Shawn's behavior would alter so radically. Unless he was on some kind of drugs… Was it possible? He knew the Hunter family was rather lax about obeying the law. Because it was a holiday, maybe one of Shawn's many law-evading uncles got him alcohol as a gift? That could explain Shawn's behavior… if that's even what happened.

He shook his head. Whatever had happened, he knew he had to find shelter before he either caught pneumonia or was caught naked. If he knew his geography correctly, the Pink Flamingo Trailer Park was right next to the drive-in. I'll visit the Hunters and get some help, and if Shawn's there and hates me… I'll deal with it then.

He stood up and stretched, shivering in the cold air. Carefully watching his step, as to not tread on any shards of beer bottles brought to the drive-in, he made his way over to the chain link fence. Unfortunately, there appeared to be barbed wire spanning the top. Rubbing his arms and legs to keep warm, he ran through his list of options. Deciding to look for a pay phone so he could call 911, he began walking toward the restrooms/snack bar.

Again, he took care to protect his bare feet, inspecting every step before taking it. He noticed a sharp piece of metal wire, and followed it with his eyes to a section of fencing that had been torn down forcefully. Well, that solves that problem, he supposed, walking toward the gap. Careful to not let the upturned fence scratch his legs, he slowly squeezed through the opening. Just as he had made it through, he noticed a tuft of grey fur caught on the wire. The wolf!

Knowing that the escaped wolf had come this way made him jittery with fear. In fact, it was possible that it was the wolf itself that brought down the fence! No, that's silly, he chided himself. No wolf could be that strong. But the mental image of a giant wolf smashing down a metal fence to get to him chilled him to his bones. Or maybe that's just the cold. Wrapping his arms around his body, he hurried toward the trailer park.

Fortunately, he managed to get to Shawn's trailer unseen. Rubbing his sides to stay warm, he rapped on the door, and then used both hands to hide his private parts. After a moment, the door was opened by Chet Hunter. "Uh, hi, Mr. Hunter," he started to say nervously.

"What in the hell are you up to, boy?!" Chet interrupted. "A Pennsylvania winter is no decent time to go streaking! Get in here at once before you freeze yourself to death!"

"Thanks, Mr. Hunter," he said politely as he hurried inside the trailer. Chet gave him a set of Shawn's clothes that fit, a blanket, and made coffee for the two of them. The room-temperature trailer felt really hot at first, a sign of just how cold he really was, but it gradually cooled down over time. The coffee helped too, warming him up from the inside.

As soon as he was comfortable speaking, Chet began asking him questions. He answered them to the best of his ability, explaining his blackout, although he left out some of the parts about Shawn. "So then I figured I'd come here," he finished.

"Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you like…" Chet paused. "It's Corky, right?"

"Cory," he corrected. "Thank you, Mr. Hunter, but I think I'd better get to school."

"Ah, c'mon," Chet pressed. "Every now and then, you have to break the rules, right? I could tell you about the time I bought a small country in the Middle East…"

"Well," he said, charmed by the man's personality, "I guess missing one day wouldn't hurt."

"Hey, alright," Chet smiled, before launching into his story.

It was full of fantastic elements, improbable situations, and a few erotic elements that made him blush. The man was a terrific storyteller, though, and Cory was loving this chance to get to know Shawn's father. He had just gotten to a part about him outsmarting international jewel thieves, when there was a knock at the door.

"Uh, hold on to that thought," Chet said, walking over to the door. After peeking through the blinds, he let in a very large man, who looked like a combination of Harley and Frankie.

While Cory let loose another one of his many shivers that day, the man spoke with Chet. "There's been a death in the family," he reported solemnly. "Sal was mauled last night. Looks to be the wolf."

Chet sighed, his face becoming stiff in the way men who don't like to show emotion do. "Well, that is quite a shame. Sal was a good man, a good brother." He looked at Cory, "Never let it be said that Sal didn't lead a good life…" He gestured at the large man, "This is my brother Mike. Mike, this is a friend of Shawn's…"

"Cory Matthews," he supplied. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

But Mike turned and whispered something in Chet's ear. "Hm," Chet grunted. "Excuse us, Cory. Mike and I need to talk in private."

"Uh, okay," he said, as they stepped outside. I wonder what they need to talk about? Funeral arrangements? After a few minutes of waiting, he decided to turn on a nearby radio. It was set on an oldies station, playing the kind of stuff his parents liked to listen to. He considered changing the station, but decided not to tinker with his host's settings. He hummed along to Garfunkel's All I Know while waiting.

He thought about what Mike had said, about their brother having been mauled by the wolf. It truly frightened him just how dangerous that wolf was. He remembered the fence, how it seemed as though the wolf had smashed it down to get in the drive-in… where he was. His mind went to (of all things) the worst of the Jaws sequels, in which the shark followed the main guy halfway around the world to get to him.

Is that what's happening? Did the wolf break down a fence to get to me? He shook his head at what was clearly nonsense to his rational mind. Man, poor Chet, he thought instead. I wonder what Shawn will think when he hears his uncle died? Shawn. It came back to him, the horrible memory he had pushed aside. What happened between us to make me so angry at him?

Then, rather inappropriately, Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs' Lil' Red Riding Hood came on after All I Know. Starting off the song with a wolf howl, the radio began playing the racy take on the children's story:

What's that I see walkin' in these woods?
Why, it's Little Red Riding Hood.
Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are lookin' good,
You're everything a big, bad wolf could want…

Cory found the song greatly disturbing, and not just because of Sal's recent death, or the idea that the wolf was hunting him. There was something else about it, something in the back of his mind along with the faded memories of last night. Okay, focus, Cory, he told himself. Ignore the song, just think about what could have happened with Shawn.

As he listened to the lyrics in the background, he suddenly had a flashback. First was Topanga, looking beautiful; then she stared at him with concern; then she looked at him with pure terror; then… what remained of her face stared at the lacerations spanning her torso; and finally, he remembered burying his face in her bleeding throat, letting the blood run down his chin…

Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are lookin' good,
You're everything a big, bad wolf could want…

Blood; he could feel it. Blood streaming over his body, into his mouth. Warm, metallic, it was the greatest taste in years, but he knew the real treat was underneath it. Under the blood was the meat, similar to bacon but tangier. Human meat; Topanga's meat!

He grabbed the radio and threw it across the room, silencing its noise. Oh my God, he thought, disgusted and terrified at what just happened. What the hell was THAT? He had no answer. "It's okay," he said, trying to calm down. "Just a cannibalism daydream. I'm sure everyone…" Oh, who am I kidding? That was psychotic, like something out of a horror movie. He thought about the dried blood that caked his body. It's not possible…

The door opened and Chet walked back inside, looking much more upset than earlier. "Cory, sit down," he said seriously, and Cory sat back down at once. "Cory, I'm not going to lie to you. Some very serious things have happened, and I think it's best you know everything." He paused, and looked him in the eye, "Last night, a girl named Topanga Lawrence was brutally murdered in your bedroom. My son Shawn told the cops he saw a man come in your room, kill the girl and kidnap you."

A kidnapping? He could not remember anything like that, but perhaps that did explain the freaky daydream. His mind could have substituted himself for the killer as a way to deal with the trauma, or something like that. "I… think I might remember some of that," he said.

Chet eyed him, "Which part?"

"Uh, I remember…" Cory paused, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him look like a total psycho. "I remember Topanga with these nasty cuts all over her body, and then… dead."

"Nothing of the killer?" he prodded.

"Uh, no," he half-lied. No, I told the truth, he corrected himself. I did not kill her, there's no way I could have… A sudden memory of a woman's voice played through his head: You will kill the one girl who cares for you… He shook his head. That's impossible. I don't even know who that was… He noticed Chet was watching his expression carefully.

"I see," he grunted, clearly aware he was leaving something out. "The cops haven't yet found any sign of forced entry, or any sign of anyone else being there in the room with you. Now, you found running around the trailer park in the bare, all covered with blood, and with no memory of such a killer…"

"Are… Are you saying I killed her?" Cory asked, stumbling over voicing the idea that had troubled him the past few minutes.

"Well, it certainly looks suspicious," Chet said, avoiding the question directly. "And it seems my wife Verna has put out an alert within the family to track down this killer and… bring him to justice."

"You do think I killed her," he realized, almost finding it humorous. Almost, if it wasn't so terrifying.

"Whether you did or not, I think it's best if you stay here for a while," Chet said carefully. His expression then brightened, and he began to speak as though he were discussing a normal sleep-over, "Well, you can sleep in Shawn's room! And tonight, I'll make us my famous Pink Flamingo fish-sticks while I tell you all about my adventures in the South Pacific. I tell you, that tiki market is God's gift to man!"

"Oh, okay…" Cory said slowly. Perhaps that's for the best. I'll stay here where the Hunters can see me, and when the kidnapper is found it will be clear I'm innocent. "I'll just call my parents and let them know I'm alright." He stepped over to the phone, only to be blocked by Chet.

"Um," he said, putting his strong hand over the receiver. "Cory, I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment, so… why don't you sit down and I'll tell you about how I came up with Star Trek?"

"Why not?" he asked, ignoring the offer. He thought about what his parents must be thinking by now. "I'm sure they're worried about me."

"Us Hunters are a shady bunch," Chet stated, looking at him seriously. "We're constantly being watched by the feds, and arrests around here are as common as twisters. I wanted my Shawn to be kept separate from all of that, but this here murder stands as a threat to my hopes for him. If the cops come to the conclusion that you're the killer, whether right or wrong, my boy will be an accomplice in their eyes… He'll go to jail… Which is why you're stayin' here 'til we can figure out who did it."