A/N: This will be the first of what I imagine will be many werewolf movie fanfics. For some fun, I've written out part of The Howling beginning with the scene in which Chris Dugan arrives at the barn and ending with the one in which he and Karen are driving away from The Colony. Oh, yeah, and I suppose I should mention that I own nothing (especially since it was released about seven years before I was born; go figure).

Jerry Warren's tight grip around her throat made it impossible for Karen to entertain the thought that it was all just another nightmare that she would wake up from, and find herself lying next to Bill. No, her husband was probably dead, and as she remained in Jerry's grasp like a helpless rag doll. For a short while, they had seemed to be just like her; troubled individuals who had congregated at the Colony for Dr. Waggner's help, but now they were there, Marsha, Jerry, Donna, T.C., Earl; all discussing her fate.

Charlie Barton's voice prevailed. "Put her and her friend in the car, pour gasoline over them, set fire to them, and push them off the Coast Road." Poor Terry, Karen thought; she had come to help her at a moment's notice and now she was dead; savagely torn apart by tooth and claw.

Karen felt herself being dragged from the barn as Barton's orders were made clear. T.C. followed, carrying a gasoline tank with the hand that was still intact. At least Terry inflicted some damage, she thought. As she could not match Jerry's pace, her feet dragged slightly behind her, leaving a cloud of dust trailing behind. Such an obscure ending…

Before her thoughts could spiral further downward, Chris Dugan stepped out from behind a tree, rifle in hand. Somehow, she knew that whatever he did, they would not be safe. Unable to bear the thought of losing another friend, she yelled desperately, "Chris, run! They'll kill you!"


Chris aimed his rifle at the advancing werewolf. Yes, shit, it's a werewolf! After everything he'd seen he still could barely wrap his mind around that reality.

"That gun won't do you any good, mister." The man-beast said in a calm, perfectly logical voice.

Wanna bet? Chris thought belligerently. Silver will stop this motherfuwhat if it didn't? Werewolf myths had obviously been so diluted throughout the centuries that now; who could say with any degree of certainty that silver would in fact end a werewolf's life?

Chris took several steps backward despite himself, glancing at the creature's ruined right arm. "Don't come any closer," Chris warned shakily, as he turned the gun on the one-armed wolf man. He could only pray that the clerk at 'The Other Side' was right about the silver, as he applied more pressure to the trigger. With every inch closer the thing came, the more he began to shed the guise that had so efficiently passed as human.

Chris watched in wide-eyed horror as the snarling thing's eyes became a vicious green and claws and fangs began to protrude dangerously, the tip of each promising an unspeakably gruesome demise. The tone of his flesh became dark as his jaws extended into a muzzle, and his curly, dark hair became, matted, and long. He –it –shook it's head wildly, sending saliva flying. Unable to witness anymore, Chris fired.

It pitched its chest skyward before it fell to the earth, unmoving. He saw Karen twist out of the grip of a blond, Roman-nosed 'man' as five others –three males and two females –stepped cautiously toward the body of their fallen pack mate. When the body did not so much as twitch, they simultaneously turned their gazes to the blond man with the narrow features who was now had a gun trained on them.

"I have silver bullets in here." He warned in a matter of fact tone that he hoped sounded more threatening than he felt. Despite this, the blond that had been holding Karen stepped toward him, with his chin raised in arrogance, yet Chris could see, without a doubt that there was a fearful caution in his eyes.

"Silver bullets, my ass." He said, as his voice devolved into a deep, gravelly tone, and his teeth became fangs that any predator would be proud of. "Get up, T.C." he commanded the corpse as he raised his own rifle at the intruder.

Without hesitation this time, Chris pulled the trigger, and watched as blood flowed freely from the stomach wound as the creature hit the ground with a look of frenzied denial in his eyes. The rifle struck the ground with a useless thud.


Karen watched Jerry Warren's body collapse to the ground with her hands held up to her trembling lips. So much death, her mind whimpered. Dr. Waggner approached her slowly, while watching Chris. He put a firm hand on her arm, and for the briefest of moments, he looked her in the eye.

"They're real," he said, referring to the bullets, as though he could barely believe it himself.

Turning his attention from her, Waggner strode toward the gunman boldly, despite the fact that he needed to use a cane for support. Karen gripped his arm weakly not wanting him to go, but her feet did not move, so she relinquished her hold on the doctor.


Chris trained his gun on Waggner as the doctor approached him. "Don't come any closer, Doc, please." Chris asked of him.

There was an intense desperation in the doctor's grey eyes something…pleading. The hand that was not occupied by the cane was held with its palm facing Chris, as though he were begging for something. He wants to die, Chris realized. In the back of his mind, Chris remembered Lon Chaney Jr. carrying a cane in The Wolf Man. He and Terry had been cuddled in bed watching it before…he prayed Terry was alright.

When the doctor did not stop, Chris pulled the trigger, sending a thirty aught six bullet tearing through Waggner's guts. Though the cane still supported him, the doctor began to sink to the ground as he looked up at Chris with what was clearly gratitude in his eyes.

"Thank God!" Waggner managed before he slumped to the ground, his life over.

The features of the five other werewolves before Chris instantly began to adopt the same malicious features as the others. As boldly as he dared, Chris began to drive them backward at gunpoint into the agape barn door with a multitude of others. How many are there? He wondered.

"Karen, get the door!" he shouted.

Without hesitation, they both shoved the door shut on the hellish beasts. Grabbing the late Jerry Warren's rifle, Chris handed his own to Karen, saying; "Take the rifle," while he fought to keep the barn door shut. He wedged Warren's rifle into the door handles to prevent the animals –for however short a time –from escaping and eviscerating them. "Come on!" he barked.

Having grabbed the gas can T.C. had dropped, Chris raced around the side of the barn with Karen only a step behind. "Is that the only door in the barn?" he asked frantically.

"Yeah, I think so."

As Karen held the gun awkwardly in her grasp, Chris began showering the side of the barn, both wood and stone, with gasoline. "Where's Terry?" he asked, not even sparing an upward glance.

"They killed her." came Karen's reply in a voice that threatened to break. "And I think Bill."


On the inside of the barn, inhuman limbs assaulted the barn's door. Werewolves in different stages of transformation all called out in panic as the barn ignited. Timbers fell and clawed hands ripped with vicious desperation at their quickly burning prison.

A howl went out to the night sky and passed over what was left of Dr. George Waggner's existence. He would no longer be repressed, no longer feel pain. Death was still death, werewolf or no.


They threw themselves into Chris's grey Mazda RX7. "Take this." He said, handing the gun back to Karen –it had somehow found its way back into his possession –as he adjusted himself in the driver's seat. A sinewy, hair-covered arm burst through the roof and began batter Chris mercilessly.

"Get it started!" Karen cried, trying to get a clear shot at the frenzied arm. As the questing hand found purchase on the muzzle of the gun, Karen fired. For perhaps a split second, the onslaught stopped until the monster began to beat the windshield. The glass cracked and made hectic spider webs across the window. Grabbing the gun from Karen, Chris briskly took aim and fired. Hellfire-red eyes bored into them as the beast fell away.


The car sped away from The Colony, albeit not as fast as it could have; the road was completely laden with fog.

Inside the car, Chris periodically looked behind them to make sure no clawed, merciless man-beasts were pursuing them as Karen wiped away the moisture on her face.

"How'd you find out about them?" Karen asked, barely looking at Chris.

"Terry called, right after…"

Karen cut him off before he could finish his reply. "Oh, stop, it's Sam," she said, in a voice a child might use in imploring her parents not to leave her favorite pet behind during a family outing. She pointed down the road at the Sheriff standing in front of a police car, holding his own rifle. Karen had liked Sam immediately. The southern twang in his voice and the twinkle in his blue eyes made it impossible not to want to be his friend. Perhaps they would be safe after all.


As the car skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the road, Chris immediately saw their mistake. "Duck!" Chris ordered.

Fangs bared, and gun aimed, Sam fired a round into the Mazda's windshield, and another into the right front tire. Leaving Karen huddled in the car, Chris took his rifle by the barrel, and threw the door open as a third bullet broke more glass. Spinning and aiming simultaneously, Chris fired at the Sheriff, but the bullet went wide. Sam returned his fire.

Chris, now in a position more conducive to firing his weapon, shot two bullets; both hitting Sam in the abdomen, mists of blood visible in the flashing lights of the patrol car. For a moment, Sam's arms were thrown wide and he dropped the gun. The creature slumped gracelessly onto the hood of the car and then to the ground. His white Stetson never left his head.

Chris's nose caught the scent of something and he immediately turned his attention back to Karen. "I smell gas. Come on." He said, reaching for her. "Come on!" he yelled when she didn't move.

After that she needed little prompting. Taking his hand, she ran with him to patrol car. As the Mazda exploded, they felt the heat of the flames chasing after them.

"Give it to me," Karen said as they got into the police car. Chris handed her back the gun as he reached for the keys that were blessedly still in the ignition.

He turned the key and the engine stuttered, unwilling to start. "Come on! Come on!" he shouted frantically.

Outside the passenger's side door, a monstrous head rose up, measuring its prey in the noisy machine.

Sweeping her blond hair back, and looking out the window, Karen saw it, and inanely reached for the door's lock.

The palms of three 'hands' rubbed against a window; oddly, one was much fatter than the other two and another monster stood in front of the stranded vehicle. The combination of the deep snarls and the shrieking of claws against metal and glass was enough to drive the sanity from anybody. Muzzles snapped and fierce eyes glared in at them, all wanting a taste of the morsels inside. Karen screamed. She couldn't tell how many there were, nor could she even identify any of the other Colony members through their feral forms. "Lock the door!" Chris shouted.

Finally, one began to pound brutally on the car's windshield and the glass began crackle and collapse. Chris snared the rifle from Karen and fired. Turning his attention back to the car, he tried again to start it. "Go!" he said, willing the car to come to life. The engine caught and he threw the shifter to DRIVE.

Chris tramped on the accelerator and the car moved forward, but one of the lycanthropes had managed to force its snarling head through the glass of the rear window, and was on Karen in an instant.

Karen began to look back, but before she could view her attacker, yellow fangs sank into the flesh of her left shoulder. She screamed in pain and terror as her white coat was stained crimson.

Holding the gun at an awkward angle so that it would face the back seat, Karen fired the gun, sending a silver slug into the animal's skull.

The car sped on, now free of the suffocating fog, and Karen White wept. Chris looked at her, and put his hand on her shoulder. He did not believe that comforting her would be a possibility, but perhaps he did to reassure both Karen and himself that she was still human.

As though they both had the same thought at the same moment, they turned their heads to gaze upon the very human body slumped in the back seat of the car.

Above the letters U.S.M.C., a bulldog wearing a hat glared up at them. "Bill." Karen breathed. The body swayed along with the car's motion.

Eyes glazed, Karen stared out the front window, somehow not feeling as lost as she thought she should have. "We have to warn people, Chris. We have to make them believe."


Behind them, howling could be heard in mourning for lost prey.


A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this. (I certainly enjoyed writing it.) So, let me know what you think of it or if you have any suggestions or requests!