Things get a bit darker for Brigitte, here. So...sorry about that? I wouldn't mind a bit of feedback, if you're all enjoying this so far.


Ears. Always the ears.

Brigitte ran her fingers over her long, pointed ears wistfully.

She looked like a fucking elf.

Another moon come and gone. But not without…problems. She'd been pretty out of sorts in the last week or so and might have made a mistake…or two…with the monkshood doses on the third night.

Ginger was in the bathroom, retching.

She'd mangled a broom handle with her teeth and then tried to eat the bedsheets.

At least Brigitte had managed to resist that particular urge.

"Brigitte…" Ginger groaned weakly from the bathroom, behind her.

Brigitte half turned, grimacing as she heard another round of vomiting follow.

"Sorry." Brigitte pulled her legs up to her chest , moving further onto the bed.

"S'fine." Ginger grunted, not sounding fine. "Been a few months since the last time I ate something that didn't agree with me, that's all. Not counting that old lady's cat in July."

Brigitte pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. Didn't need that image.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault." Ginger coughed. "The fucking stupid thing must've thought I was a dog. Nasty thing, had the absolute worst taste in my mouth the next morn-"

"I don't need to hear this." Brigitte grumbled.

Ginger fell quiet for a moment. Brigitte enjoyed the brief moment of peace, after the unbridled hell of the night before. If only it would last.

"Oh man, wolf tits!" Ginger whined loudly.

"I'm sorry, alright!" Brigitte groaned. "Won't mess it up again."

"What's been eating you anyway?" Her sister asked, half drowned-out by the sound of the toilet flushing for the sixth time that morning.

"Funny." Brigitte quipped, bitterly, shooting Ginger a dark look as she emerged from the bathroom.

Her gut twisted with sympathy when she actually saw her though. Ginger slumped out, wrapped in a blanket, looking utterly miserable. Her hair had almost doubled in length, and changed mostly to a silvery-grey. Her brow and nose were far more pronounced, her eyes sharp dark orbs. Her teeth had grown to fangs with quite an overbite.

As she flopped face-first onto the bed, moaning slightly, Brigitte saw her legs under the blanket had gotten a bit…furry. Claws on her feet too.

"Sorry." Brigitte mumbled, again.

"I'll live…" Ginger replied, her voice muffled by the bed. "…unfortunately. Anyway, spill it, B."

"Not been feeling well."

Partly true, at least. Or…not entirely a lie.

Brigitte hadn't been feeling well because her head was in a near-permanent state of 'what the fuck'. And 'What the fuck' just so happened to best describe her current relationship with Ginger. And to say her current relationship with Ginger was in uncharted territory was the understatement of the fucking decade.

She had no idea what they were doing. She had no idea if Ginger knew.

She couldn't control what she didn't know, so she'd cut things out of her life she knew she couldn't afford. Uncertainties. Unknowns. What ones she could, at any rate.

When she couldn't control things…mistakes happened.

Brigitte couldn't make mistakes.

Ginger's hand grasped around for hers, and she took it.

"I can hear you thinking from here." Ginger rolled onto her side, looking up at her.

"You look terrible." Brigitte muttered.

"Thanks, B. So do you." She smirked, then frowned. "Come on, you've been shutting yourself away more than usual, which is impressive when you consider we share this one shitty bed in this one shitty room."

"Just been distracted." Brigitte stared fixedly ahead.

Ginger's thumb massaged the back of her hand.

"It's what we did isn't it?"

"I shouldn't have, Ginger." Brigitte argued, half in an attempt to convince herself.

"Why?" Ginger snorted. "It was fun. You seemed to enjoy it." She sniggered.

"It was…" Brigitte paused.

She had enjoyed it. Of course she had. She'd wanted it. Wanted it more than she cared to admit, had maybe wanted it for a long time. And what did it say about her that she…wanted more?

Where had all this come from? Ginger was her sister, she'd always been her sister, then she'd…lost her. Now she was back. It was…troubling.

"B?" Ginger crawled up beside her.

Brigitte didn't know what to do now though, what did it mean? Did it mean anything? Did it mean anything to her sister?

Ginger had always been the one she could talk to, even though most of the time she was barely listening. The centre of Ginger's universe had mostly always been Ginger. Brigitte had been like…an orbiting moon…or something.

And then she'd been bitten by a werewolf. Changed. Died. Everything had gone fucking nuts.

"B? You're spacing out on me again." Ginger leaned into her shoulder.

What did it say about her that part of her wanted Ginger to…look at her, think about her the way she'd started to about Ginger.

Hoping for things. That never ended well.

"Fuck." Brigitte mumbled.

She was so fucked up.

"Brigitte?" Ginger slid an arm around her shoulders. "It was just…fun, y'know? Different, but I mean, I'd…overheard you a few times, in the bathroom…"

Brigitte tensed, involuntarily. She faced Ginger.

"It wasn't-"

"It didn't have to mean anything, take it easy, B." Ginger smiled. "No big deal."

Brigitte felt her stomach twist itself into a knot and try to pull itself apart. The air in the room suddenly seemed too thin.

"Work soon." Brigitte said, abruptly. She pulled away from Ginger and stumbled to her feet. "You're right, doesn't matter." She yanked on her tattered shoes.

Shit.

"B? What's wrong?" Ginger asked, frowning.

"Nothing." Brigitte replied, pulling on her oversized brown jumper.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Brigitte-"

There was a knock on the door.

"Out of sight." Brigitte hissed, pulling her hair over her ears as much as she could.

Out of mind too. If only.

Ginger frowned slightly, still looking confused, but reluctantly nodded and got under the covers of the bed, pretending to sleep.

Brigitte opened the door and found herself face to face with the landlady.

"Mrs Gleden."

Mrs Gleden was a short, stump of a woman. Looked pretty old. Greying hair, weathered face. There was a near-permanent bitter-twist to it.

"Complaints again about you." The older woman snapped. "Noises last night. Sounded like an…animal in here. More than one."

"We don't have any animals, Mrs Gleden." Brigitte replied, irritably, trying to put as much of the door between her and the woman as she could.

"I run a respectable establishment." Mrs Gleden claimed, ignoring all evidence to the contrary.

Brigitte looked around at the flaking walls, the shitty, cheap lighting, the sparse, old furniture. Outside, she eyed the poorly-repaired car park, the generally slipshod, cracked, rotting, 'half-collapsed' look of the main building itself.

Mrs Gleden scowled up at her, as if daring her to say something.

Brigitte decided not to comment.

"It's just me and my sister." Brigitte sighed. "She's…not been well."

"Then maybe you should take her to see a doctor." The woman snapped. "This isn't a hospital."

That was true, Brigitte struggled not to argue, at best, it moonlighted as a crack den. At worst, it was a slum.

"Sure, whatever." Brigitte answered, hoping it'd get her to leave.

"Didn't sound like someone being ill, from what I'm told." Mrs Gleden added, sharply.

Great. The old shit was spying on them.

"Not had any men around have you?" She asked, suspiciously.

"It's just me and my sister." Brigitte reiterated, insistently.

Mrs Gleden shot her an odd look. Brigitte gritted her teeth. If the haggard old bitch was seriously thinking she and Ginger were…were…

"We aren't-" Brigitte began, hurriedly.

"I don't want to know what you're doing in here, that's your…business." Mrs Gleden sneered.

She thought they were fucking.

"Then what the hell do you want?" Brigitte replied, losing her patience.

She and Ginger. Sex.

"I'm going to need a temporary advance on your rent."

Brigitte closed her eyes, trying to wipe her mind clear of all thoughts, all images of she and Ginger, getting it on. She tried not to repeatedly slam her head into the door.

She'd seen this bit coming.

"How much." She muttered, quietly.

Ginger was quiet behind her, but she could feel her sister watching.

"Another hundred." Mrs Gleden replied, calmly.

Fuck.

Brigitte fumbled in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out all the crumpled notes she had.

Fuck.

"I've got eighty-five." She replied, fighting to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"That'll do." Mrs Gleden took the money and shuffled off, leaving her with a parting glare.

Brigitte shut the door carefully, pressing her head against it.

Fuck.

She stayed there a moment, waiting for the sound of Mrs Gleden's footsteps to fade away. Once they were gone, Brigitte felt her anger spike. She snarled, pulling back her fist sharply, ready to drive it straight through the shitty, cheaply made door and-

"Brigitte?" Ginger asked from behind her.

She gritted her teeth, breathing heavily and struggled to calm down. She lowered her fist and turned around, leaning back against the door.

Brigitte couldn't face her sister.

"She's gone." Brigitte replied, staring fixedly at part of the floor where she couldn't see Ginger, let alone their bed.

"Good." Ginger replied. "B, I think-"

"But so is the money." Brigitte added, shrugging.

"What?" Her sister managed, momentarily thrown off.

Brigitte shrugged again, slumping more against the shaky wooden surface behind her.

"She thought we were fucking." Brigitte said, slowly.

"…um…" Ginger blinked, thrown off slightly.

"Fucking ridiculous, right?" Brigitte forced a short laugh, but it tasted bitter and hollow, even to her. "But she's vicious enough to stir things up. Get people asking questions. We don't need that."

"I suppose not." Ginger said, still watching her carefully. "Look, Brigitte-"

Brigitte looked at Ginger for all of a second before her stomach clenched, like it was all full up of bile. Anger, bitterness, frustration…

"I have to go. We need money." She said quickly, bustling out the door. "Stay in today." She called over her shoulder.

"Will you just-" Ginger started, but Brigitte shut the door.

She turned up her collar against the cold and pulled on her beanie, hoping it'd mask her ears enough until they changed back, then stuffed her hands in her coat pockets.

It was freezing, and it chilled her to the bone, but even that wasn't lifting her spirits.

She took a moment to ponder just how low she'd set that particular bar for herself, then brushed it aside.

The sky was still dark this early in the morning. Empty too.

Mrs Gleden was gone, and nobody else seemed to be up, she noted as she stalked across the car park. The only light seemed to come from their room.

She walked on, out onto the streets.

What the hell was she going to do.

Ginger was going to be pissed off when she got back. And asking questions.

It wasn't as if she hadn't given Ginger more than enough reason to push. She'd been stupid.

But that wasn't exactly new.

"You all there, girl?"

Brigitte jumped, looking up sharply from the hole she'd been staring into the counter.

"Sorry." Brigitte glanced apologetically at Hoskins as he sidled past behind her.

She felt like death.

"You don't look too well, Brigitte." The older man was looking at her, brow furrowed in concern.

Even looked genuine. That made her feel worse.

She pulled her hat down further over her head, though her ears had shrunk mostly back to their normal shape over the course of the day. One good thing.

"I'm fine." She shook her head, moving to take care of a customer.

Another lie. Probably her favourite one lately.

"Feel free to take the day off if y'like." Hoskins appeared at her shoulder, once she was finished. "I can handle things here."

The prospect of going back to face Ginger nearly finished her off. She gripped the counter for balance, her knuckles going white.

"No, I'm good." She replied, attempting a reassuring smile that felt oddly like a grimace. "Besides…I need the money. Me and my sister."

Hoskins crossed his arms and leaned on the counter beside her.

"I suppose I could-"

"No." Brigitte said quickly. "…er…no. Thanks. Really."

Charity. Just one more thing she hadn't earned. Wouldn't earn. Wouldn't ever be able to pay back.

"Just like you Brigitte. You never seemed happy unless you had the world on your shoulders."

Brigitte froze, slowly turning toward the counter.

Ghost was sitting mere feet away from her, on one of the stools. Smiling broadly, large as life.

Brigitte clenched her teeth together, fighting not to say something, hit something or chew something.

"What…are you doing here?" She muttered, trying to stay neutral with Hoskins close by.

"Friend of yours?" Hoskins asked, curiously.

"Oh yeah, me and Brigitte go back a bit." Ghost beamed. "We met in your stint in rehab, earlier this year, right?"

Brigitte forced another brief smile, nodding slightly.

"Goodness." Hoskins cleared his throat.

She was stuck. She was stuck, and Ghost knew it.

"I had a…rough patch." Brigitte put in, hoping to mitigate the damage Ghost was trying to cause.

"Drugs, wasn't it?" Ghost shook her head, sadly. "But you did so well in there. And you look like you're doing better now too, although you do look unwell. Are you eating? Sleeping?" The girl went on, just shy of sounding gleeful.

"I had no idea, Brigitte." Hoskins carefully put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's behind me." She glared at Ghost. "All of it."

Then again. She'd thought that about Ginger. And Ghost herself.

So much for that.

"My sister, Ginger, found me." Brigitte went on, giving Ghost a meaningful look. "You could say she…turned things around."

Ghost flinched, looking slightly unsettled at the mention of Ginger.

"She remembers you, too." Brigitte went on.

"Oh, good."

Hoskins cleared his throat again, looking to and from each of them.

"I'll…leave you girls to it. Take a break, Brigitte." He patted her shoulder and steering her out front of the counter.

She glanced at her hands, noticing splinters and flecks of wood covered her fingers. Oops. Hopefully Hoskins wouldn't look at the counter too closely.

She and Ghost settled on a small table by the front window. Ghost was idly looking around the diner, eerily cheerful.

Brigitte struggled to keep her fraying nerves in check. She settled on crossing her arms and sitting back.

"What the fuck do you want?" She growled, under her breath.

You, obviously." Ghost's eyes latched onto her. "I want you, Brigitte."

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think-" Brigitte snapped.

"Things got a little hairy last…" Ghost paused, then chuckled at her own words. The look on Brigitte's face made her laugh harder. "…we…we can work through this." She panted, getting her breath back.

Brigitte frowned.

"You killed Alice. You lied about Tyler and let me let him die, you locked me in your fucking cellar like some kind of fucking animal after I risked my life trying to save you." Brigitte muttered, clenching her teeth harder.

"Alice would have taken you away from me, tried to help you in her way, and we both know that wouldn't have worked. Tyler was…trash, you know that even better than me. And…well…you seemed pretty convinced once you turned it'd be for good. I didn't want to kill you, Brigitte, I wanted to keep you safe, and it was the only way." Ghost leaned forward, grinning. "And it turns out the other wolf was your sister anyway so I technically did you a favour. Twice you've tried to kill her now, isn't it?"

"Why are you here." Brigitte pressed, ignoring her.

"Well, after someone called the cops, you I guess, I thought I was in trouble. A few came around and let me out of my room." Ghost shrugged. "I told them there'd been a break in, and someone locked me in while Barbara was out. Turns out they were more interested in finding the ones who'd done that, and placed the call. Adults are all idiots." Ghost chuckled again.

Brigitte felt sick. She felt angry and bitter and twisted and she was sick of it.

"Get out."

"Don't worry, I don't hold it against you or anything." Ghost went on, reaching across the table with her hand. "We'll do better next time. I understand you, Brigitte. You understand me. We deserve to be together. Forever."

Brigitte tensed at the last words, staring hard at the younger girl.

"Fuck off."

Ghost sighed, withdrawing her hand. She dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out a smartphone.

"I suppose I can understand your reaction. But the thing is, you're going to come back with me."

"Like hell." Brigitte scoffed.

"I've done my research, Brigitte Fitzgerald." Ghost ignored her, looking down at the phone. "I might never have thought anything of it until your sister, Ginger turned up. But the spate of dog killings, the disappearance of two of your fellow students, and then three murders on the night of the mysterious disappearance of the Fitzgerald sisters? It made it pretty big in the news for a while, a few years back."

Brigitte didn't say anything.

"I wonder what would happen if it got around that the two of you were still kicking around out here, together? Especially since everything seemed to stop after you vanished."

There was a kind of low, annoying buzzing noise in her ears. Brigitte blinked.

"I expect the police might have some questions. And your poor parents, I imagine they'd be dying to know what happened to the two of you." Ghost held up her phone. "It's been nearly four years since anyone has seen you, but I think they'll probably recognise their own daughters."

On the screen was a photo of she and Ginger. They were arm in arm, leaning on one another as they left the bar. It was the night a week or so back, before Ginger had…she had…

Brigitte's arms had gone numb where she was pinching them so hard with her fingers. The world felt very fragile. Crumbling at the edges.

They'd abandoned the search two years ago. It was the past. It was supposed to be the past.

"Fuck you." Brigitte hissed.

"I'd obviously rather you came with me, but if I can't have you, then nor can your sister." Ghost grinned, cheerily. "You think they'll let you stay together? I doubt they'll take the time to listen to you about anything, like why you need the monkshood. How long will you last? By the first full moon you'll have changed into monsters, and then what?"

The world wasn't crumbling, it was exploding.

Brigitte forced a bitter smile and got to her feet, walking past Ghost without a word.

"I'll be around." Ghost waved happily, she saw in the reflection in the window.

Brigitte walked straight to the door, in silence. She didn't go back for her coat.

"Brigitte? Brigitte! Where are-" She heard Hoskins call, before she cut him off, shutting the door behind her.

Outside, a light snowfall had started. She didn't care.

Brigitte crossed the street, not heading anywhere in particular. The low, constant buzzing in her ears continued.

She turned down an alley between two stumpy brick buildings. Neither looked to be in use. She made her way about halfway down, the stopped.

Brigitte looked either way, not seeing anyone around. Satisfied, she faced the nearest brick wall.

"Fucking fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, fucking shit fuck shit fuck, fuck fuck!" Brigitte cursed, yelled, snarled, punching, kicking, lashing out at it. "Fuck shit fuck fuck shit fucking shit fuck fuck ffffffff-" She finally stopped, leaning on it, drained, her forehead resting against it.

She turned around and slid down to the floor, her back resting against it. The skin on her hands was cracked and bleeding everywhere, her knees and feet were scratched and bruised, but she didn't have the energy to care.

What did it matter? In a few hours, she'd be good as new.

Brigitte slumped forward, dropping her head in her hands. Couldn't summon the enthusiasm to get angry again. Couldn't rant or curse anymore. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't even do that.

Just what exactly had freaky little Brigitte Fitzgerald asked out of life to warrant this…this shit anyway?

She wanted Ginger.

She couldn't tell Ginger.

Ginger would kill Ghost. Or at least, seriously consider it. Brigitte was vaguely considering it, but even that notion made her feel sick to her stomach.

What was she supposed to do now?

Everything hurt. Everything tasted bitter. Everything swirled around inside her like a storm and wouldn't let her rest.

She just wanted a minute. A fucking minute, to not think.

As she stared blankly at the wall across from her, her hand went to the front pocket of her jeans and she pulled out Mike's card. She plucked out the cheap phone she'd bought a while ago, not that she'd ever had cause to use it really, and dialled the number.

"Hey, I don't recognise the number, so look-"

For a moment, Brigitte was ready to just hang up. This was stupid. It was a bad idea.

"It's…Brigitte. From the bar the other night." She replied, eventually.

"Oh, right, hey." Mike sounded cheerier, suddenly. "I thought you might have moved on or something when I didn't hear anything."

"Just been busy." She cleared her throat. "I'm…looking for…uh…"

"Are you alright? You sound kinda rough."

"Bad day."

"Say no more, meet me by the truck stop near the bar in like, fifteen." Mike replied.

"Right." She hung up.

Brigitte lingered in the alley for another five minutes, wrestling with what she was doing, then made her way there.

Mike was already waiting by the time she arrived. He must have left early. Brigitte wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Aren't you cold?" He said, looking her up and down quickly when she arrived.

It was still snowing, and he was wrapped up in a thick jacket and scarf, while she was only in jeans and a black t-shirt, with her baggy sweater.

"I'll live." She shrugged.

"So, what brought you around?" Mike grinned.

Brigitte still weighed her options. Part of her was still strongly pushing to drop this whole thing and walk away. Go back home. Talk to Ginger. Work something out.

But…

"I think too much, or so I'm told." Brigitte muttered. "Got anything for that?"

Mike chuckled.

"I'm sure we can find something to help you out."