LOOK! It's an update!
I have several excuses for being so late in updating this, none of them are very good and I'm sure none of you will care enough to read them.
1. My stepmother loves vacation, she has to be active on her vacation and because of this I was not able to write anything for over a week, I couldn't escape.
2. I then suffered massive brain block and can't seem to work this chapter to the way I want it.
3. I then gave up on this chapter a moved on to the next one, which I am having writers block with as well.
4. Three words: Sims Expansion pack. I'm back on a major Sims kick and will probably try to figure out how to write stories with them.
5. I'm now trying to wrangle up money for Sims seasons, and season 2, clothes and possibly comic books.
6. I would also like to mention I have a cold and will start school in a few days which means updates will probably come even slower.
Disclaimer: "I know, I'll find a fairy ring! Go back in time! And market the idea before Kripke!"
2nd Disclaimer: I do not judge people that write horror stories, I just generally don't like horror, well slasher and psychological thrillers.
Warning: If you like Vampire romance or Paris Hilton, sorry I don't. I changed some of the names in this chapter last minute and I'm pretty sure I got them all but I'm not 100 sure.
"Ow! Ow dangit! Crap!" Were the sounds that greeted Dean as he opened his eyes first thing in the morning, but add a few hisses and the sound of the nearby creek. Dean's eyes fluttered for a few seconds getting used to the light, 'Day three of life in Bram Stokers… Dude, what type of messed up psycho writes horror stories… and what the frick is up with Vampire romances, yeesh!' Dean rolled over as his brain slowly came online.
Not far away, maybe twenty feet, Sam sat on a rock at the side of the stream they had camped next to. At the current moment it appeared as though he was trying to shave with a straight razor, with disastrous results. Sam leaned forward, scooped up a handful of water and massaged it into the side of his throat before carefully scraping the razor across it.
"Ow! That's it, I give up!" Sam growled as a small trickle of blood ran down from where he had just tried to shave. Dean tried to stifle his laughter as Sam pouted holding one hand against his newest cut and slammed the small shave kit back into its case with the other. Another snicker came from Dean's left and he noticed that Carl was sitting up and making…
"Bacon!" Dean uttered with reverence as he slipped out of the bedroll he had been given and propped himself up on a rock next to the fire pit, he smacked his lips happily as Carl passed him a few pieces that were already done.
Sam slouched over as he buttoned up his shirt to join in with breakfast, Dean looked up at him.
"Dude, you look like your face got attacked by a lawnmower." Dean laughed as he crunched away happily at his bacon, it was slightly overdone, but he would survive. Sam shot him a sarcastic smile that clearly said 'shut up'. Carl watched the exchange closely.
"I forgot what 'Dude' means" Carl said as Van Helsing stepped into the camp with a bundle of sticks that he had apparently collected for firewood. Dropping the wood Van Helsing looked from Carl to Dean then Sam.
"What happened to your face?" Sam looked like all he wanted to do was crawl under a rock, or smash one.
"In the twenty-first century razors don't look like that. And if you think my face looks bad, you should see Dean try to shave, he uses and electric razor." Sam cut out before he snatched up a piece of bread and ripped a bite out of it.
"Little bro' I don't plan on shaving unless I start looking like Dad or Bobby… or Ash and you for that matter. But if the time comes when I will be forced to shave, you will find me with a pair of scissors and a comb, not some pocket knife death trap like that thing." Dean said happily as he picked up a piece of bread to go with his bacon.
"So what's a lawnmower?"
Seven hours later
They had arrived at the small town of Kissinger at about one o'clock in the afternoon. From the information Carl had received from Rome he had noticed that the quite mining town had been hit hardest by the recent werewolf attacks. Thirty people taken, either missing unexplained for over two weeks or witnessed being ripped off into the hills by werewolves. Only three people had managed to escape the tragedies that had come to their fellows, those were the people that they were focusing on today along with the other less involves eye witnesses.
Van Helsing had taken Lilith Vanderpool, a 'motherly' woman that had been gathering wood up in the foothills when her two nephews, Tom and Duncan, had been taken. She had already confirmed that Duncan had been bitten, savagely, in the side of the neck.
Dean had hastily snatched up the young Vivian Carliner who had been part of a root gathering party that had been attacked and dragged off into the woods, she had barely managed escaping.
Carl had reluctantly taken the sad case of Harold Evans who had walked out of the local pub with his buddy to be plowed to the ground by a werewolf. The beast mistaking him for dead was the only reason he had been left behind.
This left Sam to scout out the other witnesses that hadn't been directly involved in the attacks. He was glad that his new clothes allowed him to pass amongst the villagers without being noticed, but his was still getting used to the pants and he had never worn a pair of boots quite so high.He jogged up the high street with a list of three names in his hand; he had gotten a lock on the first one, Madison Park.
"It just that, everything seemed fine and then I heard a few twigs snap above us, I thought it was squirrels." Lilith Vanderpool related to Van Helsing as she politely served him tea. She took a deep rattling breath as she sat down and tried to compose herself. "Then I just heard this great scratching sound and Tom shouting. When I turned around I saw them, horrible things, huge furred beasts with massive claws and teeth," Lilith's body shook as she let out a sob, she composed herself enough to carry on in a shaking voice. "The first one had already grabbed Duncan by the time I figured out what was happening and the second one chased and grounded Tom in a matter of seconds. Both of the boys were shouting for me to run, and I knew they would take me to if I didn't. I saw them bite Duncan, it was…" At this point Mrs. Vanderpool could go no further and broke down completely.
Van Helsing hated this part of his job, having to deal with the people whose lives had been torn asunder by the monsters he hunted. Part of it witnessing the overwhelming grief these people felt for their brothers who had fallen, and part of it was knowing no one would ever feel that way about him.
"I know it's difficult Mrs. Vanderpool, but I promise you my associates and I will do all we can to bring your nephews back to you." Van Helsing said softly trying to comfort her; she lifted her head and blinked at him with red eyes.
"But there's no cure for being a werewolf?" She asked hopefully.
"It was discovered recently, only a few months ago." Van Helsing explained.
"Really, how did they manage to do it?" Mrs. Vanderpool asked, a new hope had come into her eyes at the mention of the cure.
"It was reveres analyzed from a cure that had been privately manufactured."
"Who would make a thing like that and then keep it from the world?" Mrs. Vanderpool asked sounding disturbed; Van Helsing smiled bitterly as he set down his empty tea cup.
"Dracula." Mrs. Vanderpool gaped at him.
"That monster, he gets worse with every story I hear about him, the only good one I've ever heard is that he's dead!" She said spitefully.
"Yes, Dracula truly was a monster." Van Helsing agreed as he stood up from the sofa, Mrs. Vanderpool stood up also seeing that her guest was ready to go.
"I just thankful we have people like the hunter that killed him to even it out. What was his name again, Van Halen?"
"Van Helsing. Anyway thank you for your time Mrs. Vanderpool, I promise to do everything in my power to save your nephews."
"Thank you Mr. Gabriel." Mrs. Vanderpool said kindly as he walked off the front porch.
"Yeah, it was like, really horrible, those girls were just out doing the laundry on the bluff and then they were just gone." Madison rambled as she shuffled around the shop straightening canned and jarred goods. She was nothing like the Madison he had loved, the Madison he had killed out of mercy. Ever since the night Van Helsing had told them what he was hunting her face had rushed into Sam's mind whenever he wasn't occupied. He could still see the way she smiled, could remember what it felt like to twist his fingers in her hair, the heat of her flesh, the way she tasted, the softness of her lips. This Madison on the other hand reminded Sam of a mall rat, sort of like Paris Hilton but not so slutty, more innocent and curious with big doe eyes.
"So you didn't actually see the attack?" Sam asked as Madison swept her blond tresses behind her ear, at his words she clapped her hand to her chest.
"If I had actually seen those girls disappear, I don't think I would be able to sleep at night. I've never actually seen a werewolf, so I'm kind of blissfully unaware. Cause everyone says their horrible, but I don't really know how horrible, ya' know what I mean?" Madison jabbered as she zipped her nails up and down the chain of her necklace. Sam nodded with an 'understanding' smile; he was really starting to dread the hunt to come.
"So, you're actually a professional hunter, that's what you do for a living?" Vivian as she played her tongue around inside her mouth. Dean sighed as he leaned up against the pub bar; he looked Vivian in the eye.
"Sometimes it's hard, but I solider through it. The lives I save make it worth it through; if I can spare someone the pain I've gone through, it helps me feel… complete." Dean said playing up the emotion; he was rewarded by a sympathetic smile from Vivian.
"Aw, poor guy." Vivian cooed as she reached back to the tap and poured him a mug of beer and sat it before him. He gave her a soft thankful smile and took a drink, it hit the back of his throat with a burn that made his eyes water. He set the beer down and put his hand over his pursed lips. Vivian gave him a sweet look mistaking his discomfort for emotions.
"So I have to ask you about the werewolf attack that you witnessed, I know it might be hard, but it could save lives." Dean said as he regained his composure. Vivian's seductive tone dropped as she slumped forward to lean against the counter. Dean couldn't help but notice how the black disk of her necklace was caught in between her breasts and didn't swing forward on its chain. Compared to all the other women in this time, she dressed quite seductively.
"There was about five of us, a couple guys helping us girls dig up roots. It was a little over a month ago, before the leaves came in on the trees so it was pretty easy to check around us. I… I think I saw them first. There was a glint of metal, or something that caught my eye. I couldn't make out what I was seeing at first, thought it might be a boar or something, and I was really afraid." Vivian slowly traced her finger along a gouge mark in the counter top as she talked slowly, sadness playing through her voice. "I think I figured out what it really was at the same time it noticed I was watching it. After that it was a big blur of running, I heard lots of screaming, and pounding footsteps behind me. Then I tripped and rolled down a hill and I don't think it wanted to follow me." Vivian bit her lip as she hugged her shoulders.
Dean walked around the corner of the bar they had been standing at and put a tender arm around her, she gratefully burrowed into his chest gently latching one hand onto his vest.
"I'm sorry I have to put you through this," Dean said gently, Vivian turned her dewy gaze up to him and smiled, Dean smiled back.
"Mrs. Haynes?" Sam asked as he dropped down next to the elderly woman that sat crooked over and frowning in a rocking chair on her front porch. She looked down at him in his squatting position and sat for a few moments before nodding curtly with an added twist to her scowl.
"Mrs. Haynes, I'm Sam Winchester, I'm here to talk to you about the werewolf attack you witnessed last week." As soon as the words left his lips Gertrude Haynes shot him a look that could have boiled flesh.
"You one of those horrible reporters that chassed tragedy cases and explodes them all over the newspaper pages?" Mrs. Haynes growled at him.
"No no no Mrs. Haynes, I'm not a reporter. I'm here with a hunting party that's looking to take care of the werewolf problem." Sam quickly explained, Mrs. Haynes still gave him a spiteful look.
"Do you enjoy shooting little children?" the question knocked Sam for a loop as he frantically scrabbled for every possible meaning of the revolting assumption. Mrs. Haynes spoke before he could come up with an answer. "Because little Markus and Sebastian Kattalakis are less than ten years each and I don't care about all that hooey that says their only monsters. My father killed a werewolf once, I saw the man he once was before he died, and that boy couldn't have been more than seventeen years old." Mrs. Haynes continued sharply, Sam sat quietly for a few seconds before looking up at her.
"I know that people can't always choose what happens to them Mrs. Haynes, and I know that being bitten by a werewolf one of the worst possible things that can happen. I understand that inside these people are still human, I know because I once fell in love with a werewolf." Sam explained tenderly, Mrs. Haynes looked down at him.
Carl found Harold Evans slumped in an ally way and smelling strongly of absinth. The drunken and dazed look seemed to age him past his fifty some years.
"Um, Mr. Evans? I'm here to ask you about what happened to you a couple weeks back." Carl muttered out nervously as he looked at the obviously drunk man. Harold lolled his head to look at Carl with glazed over eyes. Carl shuffled nervously.
"I was just wondering about what happened to you and Bartholomew Alexander when you walked out of the local pub that night." No response.
"I was just wondering what happened when you were attacked by that werewolf and were almost killed and your friend was taken while you pretended to be dead?" Carl managed to get out of the way before the empty absinth bottle connected with his head.
Jordan Walker was the last person on Sam's list; he really hoped that he would have more information than the first two. He also really hoped that he would have better luck with this blacksmith than the last one he had run into, at least the swelling was starting to go down.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Sam called as he entered the front portion of the blacksmiths shop. He heard a clang from the back of the shop along with someone uttering several curses, a few seconds later a man in a leather apron and a large brown beard popped his head around the door to the back workroom.
"Whatcha want?" he asked in a gruff voice as he pulled his hands out of a pair of large leather gloves and wiped them with a rag. Sam relaxed visibly determining that this man would not try to kill him.
"I'm here to ask you about the disappearance of the Quinn twins, just wondering what you saw mostly" Sam said, Mrs. Haynes had really put him out by calling him a sicko. Jordan stood there for a few seconds, it looked like he was chewing on the corner of his lip but it was hard to be sure with his massive beard, after few seconds he laughed.
"Sad thing those two being taken, good kids, real good kids." Mr. Walker muttered as he sat down on a stool and gestured for Sam to take a seat.
"So how much did you actually see happening Mr. Walker?" Sam asked as he sat and propped his feet up on one of the rungs of the stool he was sitting on.
"Whatcha want from it, you're not one of dem pesky reporters are ya?" Mr. Walker said as he sort of puffed himself up to look more like a bruiser.
"NO!" Sam said quickly almost leaping off the stool. "I'm here with a team to try and get to the root of these attacks, we believe there might be a way to solve them." Explained Sam really hoping this wouldn't turn the way of Mrs. Haynes. Mr. Walker sat for a few seconds.
"Oh, that's all good, though I don't see how you can solve werewolf attacks." Mr. Walker frowned as he appeared to be thinking.
"Well Mr. Walker wolves are generally a species of animal that likes to stay in a pack, so we figure that there may be a den of some sort around here, and if we can find the den we can stop these attacks from happening anymore." Sam quickly launched into scientific babble that he hoped would reassure Mr. Walker, it only seemed to confuse him, so Sam quickly moved on. "So, can you tell me what you did see of the attack?" Mr. Walker nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I was up in my room over the shop cleanin' up some of my tools and I was sort of watching Z and Brandon out in the meadow practicing sword play." Explained Mr. Walker.
"Z and Brandon? I'm sorry the information I have isn't very complete, I'm gonna have to ask you to elaborate." Sam interrupted quickly; he needed to get back to the inn where they were all supposed to meet when they were done. Mr. Walker paused for a second.
"Well Brandon is the boy, hard worker, always lookin out for his sister Z. Z is short of Xanthea, which I really don't get because Xanthea starts with an X."
"I see, now what can you tell me about the attack, every detail is important."
"Well Z and Brandon were practicing with sticks; Z has this fancy sword that was given to her by a gypsy or something, so she's trying to learn how to use it. So she was out there trying to beat up Brandon which is actually pretty funny because he's about six inches taller than her. Well I was watchin em and havin a good laugh when suddenly Z stops and just stares into the forest and then she starts pointing something out to Brandon. Next think I know there's a couple of werewolves runnin out of the woods and Z and Brandon are running for all their worth, they still got taken down though." Mr. Walker heaved a heavy sigh.
"Did you notice anything strange about the werewolves; they do seem to be acting rather weird in my opinion." Sam asked, he was starting to feel depressed about all the people being turned into werewolves. Mr. Walker took another long pause.
"Well, I did notice that there was some sort of something metal around both of the werewolves' necks, might have been a necklace that didn't fall off when they transformed or something?" Mr. Walker shrugged.
"Is that all you remember?" Sam asked, another long pause.
"Well thank you for your time and valuable information." With that Sam go up and exited the shop to start sprinting down the street.
He arrived at the room at the inn a few minutes later breathing heavily as he pushed open the door. Dean and Carl looked up at him as he stood panting in the doorway.
"Are you being chased by an angry mob?" Dean asked with a smirk as he lounged on a bed hands behind his head and one foot propped up on his other knee bobbing slightly. Sam looked at him, he recognized that smirk.
"You didn't." Sam almost hissed out in disbelief as he pulled himself into the room. Dean sat up abruptly and looked offended.
"What? Is there some sort of rule that says we can't have fun?" Carl looked back in forth between them having no clue what was going on.
"Yeah Dean, you can have fun, but not that sort of fun."
"I've always had that sort of fun, what makes now any different?" Dean had gotten off the bed and was now standing only a few feet away from Sam.
"Dean," Sam said disbelievingly, "we're stuck in the eighteen hundreds, people don't do stuff like that."
"Yeah well she did." Dean replied cockily. Sam was about to say something more when Carl stepped in between the two of them.
"What's going on?" Carl's voice had acquired that whiney tone he has a way of hitting when he got nervous or confused. Both Sam and Dean scowled before Sam answered.
"Dean went out and, um… I can't believe I'm saying this, um… had sex, um… with a woman he barely knew." Sam forced out feeling extremely embarrassed admitting what Dean had done to a man that had devoted his life to religion.
"Dude, you're telling Carl! Are you nuts, the guy practically screams 'I'm a virgin!'" Dean shot back; Sam was about say something about how Carl at least had morals when…
"I AM NOT!" Carl exploded; Sam and Dean stepped back away from him looking stunned. After as few seconds Dean cracked a wide smirk.
"All right Carl!" Dean laughed as he went to give Carl a high-five, Carl didn't understand the motion so Dean settled for punching him playfully on the shoulder. Sam sat down and sighed heavily as he shook his head, Van Helsing chose this time to enter. He looked around the room much like he had looked around the fire earlier that morning, this time he chose not to ask.
Grrrr: I don't like the way this chapter turned out. I mean it's not bad it's just, I think it could be better, but I'm not sure how
For some odd reason I had to bring up the fact that: Van Helsing the dashing hero got one passionate kiss from the princess. Carl the dorky sidekick did it with the barmaid, in the library!
I have no clue why Van Helsing comes in last.
For some reason I never liked Madison, probably because the relationship was rushed and I don't believe in loose sex.
Kissinger is actually the name of an artist that came in the sample music on the computer I'm writing this on, and so is Madison Park, both of them are fairly good, for sample music.
So what do you guys think? Any constructive criticism, comments or ideas? I'm a review whore and will generally give good replies and answer any question(s).
Wanted: My story needs stuffing for its middle, if you have any ideas I would be very grateful if you shared them with me.