Disclaimer: Sue me. I DARE you. ;)

A/N: I know it isn't a very long chapter, but as odd as it seems, I just wasn't in a long chapter kinda mood...:)

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Brigitte quickly walked down the block, stopping only to ask a nearby woman what time it was. 10:30. Ugh. School had started two hours ago. The bodies of Mr. Wayne and the janitor had to have been found by now. She was in deep shit. She should be lucky that the police hadn't arrived at her house while she was passed out right next to Sam's blood, knife close by.

At this she pulled her hoodie up and clenched the coat tightly around her. She couldn't help Ginger if she was stuck in a jail cell. As she walked, leaves cracked under her tall boots and the sounds of children playing at the nearby elementary school echoed through her ears. How had everything gotten so fucked up, Brigitte wondered, if only she had prevented Sam from getting infected and managed to stab Ginger with the syringe in time before she escaped.

She reached the school right in the middle of the time she would be in P.E. Or smoking with Ginger when the teacher's heads were turned, she smirked. Brigitte made her way to the greenhouse, forcing the tears behind her eyes to stay dormant. She had to stop tearing up, she was looking like a sissy, or worse, ordinary.

She glimpsed Sam's truck, and felt relief wash over her. She didn't know where else to look for him if he hadn't been out by the greenhouse. She anxiously cracked open the door. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Streamers and smashed pumpkins decorated every inch of it from the party the night before. Their was even a few (hopefully?) passed out teenagers from the night before, puke strewn out among them. The smell of beer hung heavily in the air as she made her way past the various plants.

Brigitte reached the door and knocked twice, resting against the wall. She strained her ears for a few seconds, and then knocked again.

"I'm not selling right now, so get the fuck out."Brigitte winced.

"Sam? It's me." She heard a stirring inside the room for a couple of seconds before the he tentatively cracked the door open, hiding his face.

"Brigitte...I feel like shit." He groaned.. Brigitte caught a glimpse of a bloodshot eyeball. "Your sister is...bitch..." Brigitte smirked slightly.

"Let me in. I have monkshood." The door flew open and Sam stepped out.

His face was paler than usual and he looked about a hundred times worse than when he was on weed. His cuts had healed as he began his journey to becoming a werewolf, but his hair and shirt were soaked in dried blood. His eyes were almost completely red, and his forehead was coated in sweat. Brigitte noticed that his mattress in the corner was also covered in blood.

"Brigitte, I believe you just uttered the greatest sentence my ears will ever hear. Where is it?"

"In my backpack." She let herself in.

"So hey, did I mention thanks for leaving me on the stairs last night, all by myself while my man-eating sister runs loose around Bailey Downs?" She leaned against his desk. "I mean really, thanks a lot." Sam rolled his eyes and sat down on his mattress.

"Brigitte I don't remember a goddamn thing after you sister attempted to chew me into pieces. I blacked out seconds after you ran up the stairs, um, ditching me, and then I woke up covered in my blood about two hours ago. How I managed to drive home I will never know, but there is blood all over my car so I know somehow I did it." He put his head in his hands. "This has got to be my crappiest week ever."

Brigitte moved next to him, pulled the monkshood out of the bag, and showed it to him. He lifted his eyes only briefly and pointed to a nearby cabinet. "The alcohol and stuff is in there. Don't touch anything else." She moved towards the cabinet and began pulling out the supplies.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to distract her. It looked like any minute she was going to rip open your neck.." Sh pulled out a bowl and the alcohol and began searching for a syringe. Sam frowned.

"Where is everyone favorite lycanthrope anyway? You didn't get her with the syringe?" He grimaced and grabbed his stomach. "Fuck, I never knew how bad girls had it. This is even worse than having a hangover."

"She fell out of the window while trying to attack me. For all I know, she could have gobbled half a dozen of last night's trick-or-treaters." She found a syringe and lighter underneath a pile of dirty shirts. "Have you ever thought about cleaning, or something?"

"Have you ever thought or hurrying up? I think I feel something growing on my lower back."Sam shifted uncomfortably and Brigitte began to tear off the leaves and place them in the water, holding the lighter steadily underneath the cup.

"I have to find her. For everybody's sakes."She meant to whisper it to herself, but Sam overheard.

"Have you thought of maybe going back to your house? If she's on a violent rampage, killing your parents might be on the agenda..."

"-My parents are missing. I couldn't find them when I woke up so my guess is my Mom never returned home from yesterday. She was all ready to leave my Dad and get us out of Bailey Downs after she figured out what Ginger had done. I have no idea where she could be." She turned sway from Sam, fixating on placing the syringe in the piece of cotton she had just stuck in the cup. "I hope she's okay."

Surprisingly, Sam moved towards her, flicking a piece of dust off his shirt and pulling out a joint from behind his mangly hair.

"It's going to be okay Brigitte. We will stop Ginger and we will find your Mom. It just may take some time." He lighted up and grabbed the loaded syringe from Brigitte's hands. He held it only for a few seconds before he began to shake and drop it. He turned to Brigitte. "Your going to have to inject the stuff into me, I don't think I can hold it right in my condition."

Brigitte grabbed the syringe from the coffee-colored rug, and biting her lip, plunged it into Sam's arm. He cried out in pain and began to convulse violently. Brigitte dragged a blanket from the bed to cover him as his eyes, returning to their natural color, rolled around in his head. She placed the syringe on the table and watched helplessly as Sam passed out.

Uh-oh, she thought, at least when she did it to herself she didn't pass out...what if something had gone wrong, or his body was rejecting the poison. She mustered up her strength and pulled Sam onto his mattress, checking his temperature by placing a cool hand on his sweaty forehead. He didn't feel like he had a fever.

Realizing all he probably needed was rest while the poison took its toll, she pulled a pillow from under his bed, and leaning against the end of his bed, she began the agonizing journey to a nightmare-filled sleep.