Bite me (TAG FITZGERALD Sisters)

[Sam]

So, how did I get here?
Oh that much is easy.
I was helping Brigitte cure Ginger of Lycanthropy, and the bitch ripped my throat out.
Yeah, I lived. I shouldn't have, but now that I've caught the disease from her bite, I heal much faster than people should.
Lycanthropy... a horrible condition that makes me do nasty, horrible things.
Sprouting fur and a tail isn't even the least of the carnage.
I bet Brigitte figured I was dead, because when I did come back from the edge of death, the sisters were gone.
And I've been dealing with my own problem ever since.
Sitting back on my bed, I take a deep inhale of Marijuana, taking it deep into my lungs and holding it a bit before exhale.
Another bad thing about Lycanthropy... it purges the system faster, the herb not having the greatest high anymore.
I stub the joint out, not happy with the results.
I toss a couple plastic bags onto my scales, loading up the latest round to sell.
Finding a cure is going to take some cash.
Monk's hood and silver don't work on a large enough scale.
Treating it like a disease, I have decided to take a look inside, some blood analysis and such.
And that takes equipment, which takes money.
So it's business as usual.
I get into my white van and head into town, parking near the school.
People know me, so someone's bound to come up looking to buy, it's just a matter of waiting.

[Brigitte Fitzgerald]

I hated this place. I absolutely hated this town. Now more than ever. After killing my sister, running for my life and from another werewolf, ending up in Happier Times Care Center with those crazy fucks, escaping with Ghost, being locked in her basement as her fucking pet, and finally breaking free to learn that Ginger hadn't died after all.....well, I was just tired. I'd stopped taking Monkshood, and accepted what I was, what we were. Ginger and I were werewolves. We changed at the full moon and whenever our emotions were too high. Other than that, it was life on the road, together forever, my sister and I.

I started thinking about Bailey Downs a lot more often, much to Ginger's general dislike. Every time I mentioned it she got bitchy...bitchier. But I really thought we should go back. Just to take a look around. To make sure Jason was really cured when I shot him up with Monkshood that day in the park. If not....I mean, it didn't cure me, and Ginger never touched it. That meant that Jason could still be out there, killing people, or worse. What if he was the one who'd chased me across Canada, cornered me in Happier Times, and then followed Ghost and I to his death? There were too many open ends. I had to go back. With or without Ginger.

I knew she'd follow me. She wasn't going to let me go alone. Even if she hated Bailey Downs as much as I did. I could feel her back there, not far behind me. And that much was a comfort. I didn't really want to go back to our hometown by myself anyway. I stood across the street staring at our old house. A For Sale sign stood in the yellowed yard, all the flowers Pam had planted years ago nothing but dead growth now. The place looked like shit. I didn't see how anyone would buy it. I vaguely wondered where Pam had gone to, and what about Dad? What the hell happened to him?

After standing there like an idiot for god only knows how long, I started walking. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going, I was just walking, lost in my own head. I ended up walking right by our old school. "Oh fuck." I muttered to myself. This was the last place I expected to find myself looking at. I scowled, watching the same assholes that I went to school with run about their daily routine. Seems like not much had changed. They found a couple other losers to pick on now that Ginger and I were long gone.

A familiar yellow van pulled into the parking lot, and my jaw dropped. Sam? But....I saw Ginger kill him. She ripped his throat out a few minutes before she ran into the knife I had in one hand. Could it really be him? Jesus, if Ginger survived, that meant the whole damn town might be infected now. Fuck. I crossed the street, running for the van. Over and over my mind reeled. "Please don't let it be Sam, please don't let it be Sam." What the hell was I supposed to say to him if it was? Sorry I let my sister eat you? Sorry you're a lycanthrope? How are you dealing with that, anyway? Yeah...right.

I slowed down as I reached the parking lot, taking a deep breath as I moved around other cars and headed for Sam's van. It was his van, I could smell him. And werewolf, as well as marijuana. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I knew it was going to be him. I could smell him. But still I held onto that tiny thread of hope that it was someone else. Anyone else. I reached the driver's side window, my eyes squeezed shut. I took a deep breath and opened them only to stare directly at Sam. "S...Sam?" I stuttered, staring at him in shock. Holy shit. Now what?