What If

by Ahrockerz

Summary:

What if Brigitte didn't kill Ginger? What if Needy didn't kill Jennifer? This is this fanfic that will answer those questions, all while murdering boys and being fruity along the way.

BRIGITTE'S POV

My sister, Ginger, was always a bitch only now in a literal sense. She was a werewolf. Well, we both are now. She laughs when I saw werewolf, even though it's kinda true. I mean who else has a fucking tail? Whatever we are....It isn't human. We're different now, not just physically, emotionally, mentally,....we're almost not even related anymore. Or at least that's what she said to me once. At the time, I wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but I'm very aware now.

It's been two months since that great tragedy of Bailey Downs, the town where all this shit went down. Trina Sinclair was murdered, neighborhood pooches slaughtered, a fuck-boy turned into a real-life furry, and Sam, poor sam...torn to bits by none other than my own sister. 

A pounding on the door causes me to jump. It's embarrassing that I'm still startled by shit like that being a big, bad werewolf and all. I'm currently hiding out in the bathroom at a rest stop, writing in my journal. I can't really talk to people about my condition, so it's become a source of therapy. We've been on the road for the past few months. We couldn't stay in one place long, we were fugitives after all. 

I grasp the journal in my hand and my way to the door. I open it, but just a bit to see who it is. It's Ginger. She's looking at me, exasperatedly. 

"Well?" She she asks, rudely. I shift under her gaze. She's always been intense. It's been known to make everyone. And yes, even me a bit uncomfortable. 

"Yes?" I respond back, meekly. 

"Get the fuck out. I gotta piss," that's actually the one thing that hasn't changed about her. She's always been...Ginger. However, I boldly decide to hold my own because I'm not done writing yet. Or maybe I am, but she doesn't need to know that. 

"No." I say. Her head practically spins around at this, not used to being told the word (our parents always got her everything she wanted). She leans forward, to intimidate no doubt. 

"No?" She asks for confirmation. She snarls at me and flashes some teeth. I don't back down. 

"No," I repeat, "I'm busy."

She scoffs as if that's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard ever. 

"Since when are you..," she trails off, "busy doing what?!"

I look around a bit uncomfortable, my resolve definitely falling short. No. I can't let her win. 

"Stuff," I reply. Admittedly, not my best work. 

Her look of interest catches me off guard. She leans closer, looming over me know, flashes me a toothy grin. 

"You jacking off, B? Need some help scratching an itch?" She asks, seductively. I wish I could say that she didn't have an effect on me. I truly wish that I could, but I can't. It's Ginger. I've known her since forever. She was and still is my ride or die. Whether I like it or not she's all I have left and vice versa. 

And despite my reluctance, I've always felt something towards her. Our connection has always been strong even before all this and it's even stronger now. 

She strokes the side of my face. "B? You okay? You totally spaced out on me?" 

I lean into her caress and my eyes flutter. Sometimes, she was like this. Sometimes she caring and soft. It was a very rare occurrence, especially now. 

"You know I'm just joking right?" She asks with unusual lightness. I pull away, hardening at this. 

"No, you're not," I respond, morosely. My eyes avoiding hers, looking literally anywhere else. 

"No, I'm not." She confirms. Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my face. I feel her hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes flashing with unnatural heat. I hold her gaze, awaiting her next move. "I know you want me too. Why deny it?" 

I back away once again and make myself as big as possible. Which is still rather small compared to Ginger. 

"Because it's wrong," I growl at her. Her softness is gone. She matches me, growling back with full power. Let's just say she doesn't like to be challenged. 

"We're not exactly right anymore, B." She looks at me, expectantly, searchingly. I look back at her like a deer in headlights. Obviously, not her desired response. She huffs before pulling away and heading towards the neighboring woods. 

"Where you going?!" I ask, worriedly. Ginger's always so rash. So, it's hard to tell her intentions. Who knows she might be leaving me for good. I hope she isn't. 

She seems to sense my inner battle. She doesn't turn around, but has the decency to holler over her shoulder.

"You can have the shit box! I'm finding a tree!" And with that she disappears into the forrest leaving me to my thoughts.