I'm late to the party, I know, but I first saw Ginger Snaps about a week ago, and then binged the entire trilogy. I haven't been able to get it out of my head since. I really enjoyed it, but there were certainly a few areas where I felt like I would have liked some closure. This is my little attempt to do that.

As a warning, I have played fast and loose with the lore and canon a little, perhaps, maybe taken some liberties. Some big, some small. But I felt like there was just about enough room to maneuver, within the film's rules to get away with what I've done to flesh out the story a bit. I even tried to squeeze in a reference to Ginger Snaps Back, which in the movies is pretty much entirely unconnected, but there we go. I tried.

This isn't particularly action-packed...at all. It's mostly just, as I said, a bit of closure for these two characters who I have come to love quite a bit, since things definitely didn't go their way. Especially poor Brigitte, who suffers mightily in these movies, and I find to be one of the more admirable, strong, well-written characters I've ever encountered.

There is a teensy-weensy bit of beyond-sibling subtext in here, but feel free to ignore that if you choose, or read into it what you will. That said, please enjoy my meager efforts to give the Fitzgeralds an epilogue of sorts.

The first thing Brigitte felt was pain.

The second was a kind of relief, as she realised the pain was hers, and it was she herself that could feel it.

Brigitte. The idea swam around in her muddled, pounding skull. Brigitte. Brigitte. Brigitte Fitzgerald. Brigitte.

She tried to move, and instantly regretted it. Pain. And…confusion.

Arms, legs, skin, bones, none that felt quite right. Like they weren't really all hers. But…

She flexed a hand, tentatively. Fingers, thumb. Same with the other. Hands. Hers. But it felt…off. Like a part of her was trying to reassert itself, and another part thought it was something else.

This wasn't right. She'd been changing. So close. She had changed, she was sure of it. She…she remembered. Remember…remember…

Brigitte fought to think through the blank spaces in her memory, the…walls, the impenetrable fog, but…

She had changed. But she was…she was back. She was Brigitte. The wolf was…gone?

The pinpricks of feeling began to return to her limbs. She could feel things. The floor was rough, damp, chill to the touch. She could feel it everywhere… feel it, feel it, feel it…

Oh god, she was naked.

And then she heard it. Barely there, at the edge of her muddled perceptions. Breathing. Not hers though.

A thought broke through the surface of her flailing, jumbled memories. The other wolf. Locked in the cellar. She was locked in. Not alone. Not alone.

Brigitte tensed all over, fumbling for purchase with her clumsy hands, still not quite hers. Like the rest of her body. Felt wrong. Not right.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced her eyes open only to be met by thick, oily black. Everywhere, all around. Dark. Everywhere. Dark.

And it was still out there. In here. With her. Couldn't see. Couldn't see.

She struggled up onto her knees, wobbling as she did, her head spinning, brain felt like it was sloshing about in her skull. She felt sick, going to be sick.

Her heart was pounding, and her breathing was quickening. She had to calm down. Calm down. Calm. Calm.

"First time is always the hardest, B." Out of the gloom.

That voice, not that voice. Couldn't be. Impossible.

"No." She rasped out, throat dry, hoarse. Scratchy. Sore.

Couldn't be. Wouldn't be. Couldn't handle that now. Not now.

"You all there, yet?"

"Not now." Brigitte grumbled, through gritted teeth. "Not now." She clutched her head with one hand, raking shaky fingers through her sweaty, greasy, matted hair.

She could hear her. Feel someone else in the dark with her, in the cellar. But…did that mean anything? It couldn't. Her ghosts, her memories had haunted her for the past three years, what would they stop for now?

Not even losing herself to the beast could get her away.

"Not real." She grumbled, clenching her eyes shut and trying to grasp at something…anything familiar. Something to start with, work from. "You're not real. Dead, Ginger, you're dead. I killed you."

"You gave it…a good go." Ginger's voice again out of the black. Chipper, but nervous. Hesitant. "Hurt like hell, B. And again the other night. Who'd a'thought my little sister had it in her?" She chuckled.

"Shut up, not now. Can't…fuck." Brigitte clutched her head in both hands. She hurt like hell. Everywhere.

"I guess I kinda deserved it." Ginger went on, dryly. "A lot. But we're tougher than you thought, it turns out. We don't die easy. If I hadn't fully changed you probably would done it."

"Stop it. Stop talking." Brigitte growled. "Five fucking minutes, is it too much to ask? Just five minutes. No werewolves, lunatics, drugs, doctors, dead sister, nothing. Five damn minutes."

She choked out a laugh.

"I'm still talking to you. I'm talking to you and you're not there."

Then she heard the footsteps. The soft, regular slap of bare feet on the stone floor. Closer, coming closer.

"Not real." Brigitte shook her head, then regretted it. Still felt sick.

"It's me, B." The voice whispered, as a hand carefully touched her bare shoulder.

It was too much. She lurched back, lashing out with her hand, balled into a crude fist. She was more surprised than anything when her fist made contact with something.

She'd never been able to hit her hallucinations, nightmares, before. Not Ginger. She'd tried, tried plenty of times. Dark, desperate moments. To make her stop, make them go away. Fight the wolf, fight the beast.

"Ouch." Ginger managed, from across the cellar.

Brigitte vomited on the floor. She dry-heaved a couple of times, not surprised she had nothing left. Felt like she hadn't eaten for days.

"What…the fuck…are you?" Brigitte crawled backward, clumsily. Her hands grasped awkwardly for the wall and she dragged herself up against it. Her legs protested, shaking under her own weight.

"A terrible sister." The voice replied, after a moment.

"You can't…you can't do this to me. I killed you. I did, me." Brigitte spat. "I killed you and I lived with that, for three years. Three fucking years!"

"Brigitte…"

"Don't interrupt me!" Brigitte snapped. "Three years alone, without you, or anyone! I'm not the same person, I'm not who I was. I don't know any more if anything is even left of Brigitte, I don't even know why…why I'm here now at all! Why I'm not some…monster, crawling around in the dark. Maybe I am!"

"You're not the monster."

They fell quiet, the cellar was still. The only sound their breathing.

Brigitte felt like she was going to fall apart. Was this it? Was she finally losing it? Had she snapped at last? Or was…was Ginger really, actually alive, down here with her?

She was so sure she'd killed her sister. Felt the life go out of her changed body. Held it, hugged it, alone in their room, for hours. She was sure.

But what did she know? How was she supposed to know? Lycanthropy, werewolves, they weren't supposed to be real, but they were. She was. Ginger had been, was, is.

"I'm real, Brigitte." Ginger said, out of the gloom in front of her.

She hadn't moved, and seemed to be standing still. That suited Brigitte.

Brigitte leaned on the wall, obstinately refusing to do what all her body wanted to do and crumple up in a heap.

"Why…why the hell…" Brigitte started, not sure how to even finish the question. She had so many, wanted them all answered at once. Where did you start?

"Why what?" Ginger asked.

"Everything." Brigitte spat, angrily. God, she wanted to throw up again.

Ginger didn't reply for a minute.

"Can we…talk?"

"Isn't that what we're doing. Never stopped, for me. You weren't there, but you were. Always goading, always pushing, pulling, whenever things got…really bad. When I thought that maybe then, that was the time, give in, let the wolf win." Brigitte rambled, glancing around furtively.

Her eyes were almost…adjusting to the dark. Couldn't see shit, but the black was less…solid. She could make out blurry shapes, vague outlines. Walls, the stairs, and a thin block that might….might have been Ginger.

"I'm not the same either, B." Ginger replied, sounding a little sad.

Brigitte choked out a bitter laugh, then retched again.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." She managed weakly, when she was sure she had her stomach back under control. "Alright, Ginger, what do you want to talk about, since it doesn't seem like I'm going anywhere now."

"Us."

"What 'us'?" Brigitte argued, bitterly.

"Probably deserve that too."

Brigitte didn't answer. She sighed, closing her eyes and tried to order her thoughts. She had to be realistic. There were things she didn't know, that she needed to know.

"Why am I…we…us again?" She asked.

"Full moon, Brigitte. For three days you're covered in hair, crawling on all fours and looking for something to chow down on, then it starts all over again."

"Oh god." Brigitte swallowed, her gut churning.

Full moon, every twenty-eight days or so…oh fucking hell, this couldn't be real…

"I know." Ginger went on, sounding equally bitter. "Makes you kinda yearn for the old days where all we were shittin' about was PMS."

"But…but…" Brigitte struggled to make sense of it.

She'd been sure it was the end. The beast won, and Brigitte disappeared forever. Like Ginger.

…but she'd killed…thought she'd killed Ginger. And she hadn't seen, hadn't waited around to find out what happened afterward. She'd run away. She'd spent three years fighting it, three years of pain, poisoning herself with doses of monkshood to stave off the change, put off the beast taking over.

She'd been so wrapped up in studying what it was doing to her body, how it was changing her the longer she didn't take the monkshood, she'd been blind to…well…a lot of things.

"The monkshood wasn't a cure." Brigitte said.

"No." Ginger said, sympathetically. "But it does totally fuck with the change."

"There were times, a few days each month or so, when things got really bad." Brigitte went on, half to herself. "When it felt like that was it, game over. I never even thought, never once thought to…check that…"

She clutched her head with her hand again, the dull ache growing, pounding once more.

"You fought it off for three years, B." Her sister said. "I always thought I was the strong one." She added, sadly.

"So did I." Brigitte replied.

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes."

"It's taken so much out of you." Ginger argued. "I've never seen you look so…frail."

Brigitte pounded her fist on the wall, and pushed herself off, onto her own two feet.

"I wasn't ready to just give up like you did, I wasn't going to be a killer! I wasn't going to hurt anybody!" She panted, heavily. She was tired, so fucking tired.

Brigitte took a deep breath and let loose. She explained everything that she'd been through, that had happened to her, that she'd fought and struggled with in the last three years, alone. Being locked in rehab, her painful transformation, being betrayed by Ghost…

Ginger was silent, after that. Part of Brigitte felt like she'd gone too far, another part felt she hadn't gone far enough. She still hadn't fully accepted that Ginger, her sister, was really locked down in this cellar with her, alive. Part of her couldn't accept it. Wouldn't.

A small part of her, maybe all that was left of Brigitte from before, wanted it more than anything. Even after everything that had happened, everything she'd done, still wanted so bad for it to really be Ginger, wanted so much for her sister to really be back.

"I'm sorry, Brigitte."

That had been the last thing she expected. Ginger, the Ginger she knew had never apologised for anything. Certainly her hallucinations hadn't been particularly sympathetic.

"I'm sorry about everything."

Brigitte stared, blankly into the dark, trying to fix onto the shape that was all she could see of Ginger.

Still standing there, not moving.

Brigitte sniffed. She felt something run down her cheek.

Oh fuck this, was she crying now? She rubbed her eyes roughly with her arm.

"You killed all those people." She muttered.

"I know." Ginger replied, haltingly. "It…takes control, but…but I…got to watch. Every time."

Brigitte felt a pang of regret, sympathy almost, buried in amidst all the anger, frustration, confusion and bile that filled her up to bursting.

"You killed Sam." She managed, through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, Brigitte." Her sister repeated.

"Doesn't change anything." Brigitte said.

But it had. It did. Somewhere inside.

"Did you…did you like him?" Ginger asked, hesitantly, after a pause.

"What the fuck difference does that make?" Brigitte snapped, suddenly furious. "What does it fucking matter?"

"It matters to me." Ginger argued.

"No I didn't, not like that!" Brigitte yelled back. "I was fifteen, I was all kinds of fucking messed up, didn't know what the fuck I wanted, besides you! Sam...Sam might have been a friend, that's all! That's it! And you…you couldn't even let me have that."

"B-"

Brigitte took an unsteady step forward, managing to keep her balance.

"I was so fucking screwed up, all I ever had was you, you'd made sure of that. I needed you, Ginger, and you threw me away in the space of a fucking week, and I had nobody, I had nothing! Sam was a friend, but you couldn't let me have anything of my own, couldn't let me be anything you didn't want me to be, so you put a fucking end to that!"

Brigitte took another wobbly step forward.

"You took everything from me." Brigitte laughed, bitterly. "Most of what I ever had just revolved around you anyway, and then I killed you, and you didn't even leave me with that."

Another step forward. The dark blur that was probably Ginger remained still.

"I wanted to hate you. Tried to hate you, for years. Tried so hard I saw you, dreamed you all this time, you became my demon, my monster." Brigitte ranted. "But I couldn't, I couldn't make myself really do it, I loved you, love you, because I can't fucking do anything else."

Ginger said nothing.

"Eventually, it got so bad I actually looked forward to you appearing, even though I knew you weren't real. Even though all you did was mock me, push me, taunt me, try and get me to give up and let the animal out." She remembered a few other hallucinations, imaginings. Different ones. Sexual. "Among other things. God, I'm so fucked up." She groaned.

"I wasn't a very good sister to you, B." Ginger spoke up, finally. "I thought I was, but I wasn't."

"Doesn't matter now." Brigitte looked up toward the ceiling, fancying she could just make out the barest hint of light.

"Yeah, it does." Ginger continued. "We're here, both of us. Together."

"And what, you think we can just talk this out, go back to how things were? We can't go back, I don't want to go back."

"I know."

"Then what do you want? Why have you been following me all this time?" Brigitte stepped forward again, and shoved the shape back. "Why couldn't you just let me go?"

Solid. Still there. Ginger was there. She watched the shape stand up straight again.

"I took you for granted. You were…you were mine. My little sister, my little shadow. It felt good knowing I'd always have you, with everything else starting to change. And then I got bitten and…" She paused.

"And?" Brigitte prompted.

"You probably haven't felt it like I have, the monkshood messes it up. Or…maybe you were just stronger than me." Ginger paused, like she was thinking. "It's like…sharing with something else. Your mind, your body. Something hungry, always hungry. Yearning. It wants and wants and wants and drowns you out in the noise."

"So you had nothing to do with anything? That's convenient." Brigitte frowned.

"That's not what I said." Ginger argued. "It's…you share. It feeds on…on you, your wants and desires, too. Uses them. Latches onto bits of who you were. It's why I…it…kept chasing you. I wanted to find you, but I had no idea how, or where you were, but it…it had ways of hunting and tracking you down that I didn't."

"Jesus." Brigitte managed. "You…tried to kill me sometimes, others it seemed like…like it wanted something else." She looked away, unable to look at her sister even in the dark.

She remembered some of her…dreams…again. Visions of Ginger. What she did in them, what Brigitte did too. She swallowed, guiltily.

"It's not like it asked what I wanted whenever it found you." Ginger continued. "It just…used you, the fact that more than anything, I loved you, I wanted to find you. It…wanted to find you too, but…uh…for other things."

"Oh." Brigitte blinked, trying and failing not to dwell on what that meant.

They'd always been close, but…but…

"I thought it might have…might have been Jason." Brigitte said, trying to change the subject. "Since the monkshood wasn't a cure…"

"I met him. A couple of times. Fought really, over you." Ginger replied. "I think I might have killed him, the last time but…can't be sure, y'know?" Brigitte's eyes were getting slightly better, she thought she saw Ginger shrug.

"Over me." Brigitte echoed, fully failing now to ignore the implications. Another memory bubbled up from the stewing cauldron of her mind.

"You know, we're almost not even related anymore." Brigitte murmured, half to herself, echoing Ginger's own words.

They both fell quiet for a moment, after that. An uneasy tension filled the cellar.

"I've been wrong about a lot of things." Ginger began, eventually.

"At least you're right about that." Brigitte quipped.

"And that was one of them, B." She went on. "You're my sister, and you'll always be my sister, whatever happens to us. I love you, that hasn't ever changed. It won't."

Brigitte vividly recalled a few nights where she'd…relieved tension either thinking about or being plagued by visions of her sister. It almost hadn't mattered at the time, with everything she was facing. Now though…

"I had…dreams." Ginger continued, suddenly. "Ever since that night, when I first changed. Dreams, I think, but they were more like…memories. I saw us, or…well, they looked like us. They had our names, they had our necklaces. But it was years ago."

Brigitte didn't say anything, choosing to listen.

"They…were lost, alone. All they had was each other. There was danger, violence, blood, death, and one of them, me, her, was bitten and changed. But you…she…she didn't kill her sister, even though she was supposed to, she chose to be with her instead, she gave up everything for me…her." Ginger struggled to explain, as if she'd been thinking about it a lot. "She was better than me. Braver than me. She treated her sister better than I did."

Brigitte wasn't sure what to make of it. Ginger sounded like she clearly believed it, and honestly, she wasn't in a position to question someone for having strange dreams.

"What if it has?" She asked, vaguely, after a pause.

"What?" Ginger blurted, sounding taken aback.

Brigitte took another shaky step toward her sister. It was probably cold, but she couldn't even feel it.

"What if the way…I love you is…different." She asked, choosing her words carefully.

"Different…" Ginger gulped.

They were pretty close now. As close as they'd been when Ginger had touched her earlier. Felt different now though.

She felt more like herself. Whatever, whoever that was. More sure. Like she had before the change. Ready to fight, not ready to give up. Ready to work out what to do next. She could think a little clearer.

"Yeah." She replied. One last test. She reached up with one hand, unsteadily. Extended her fingers, touched Ginger's face. "You are real."

"I told you."

"I didn't believe you. Well, me. You were my hallucination."

"When you say…different." Ginger said, again.

"Topic for another day, maybe." Brigitte replied. "You're not dead."

"No." Ginger said. A hand touched her arm.

"I didn't kill you."

"No."

Brigitte felt another tear slide down her cheek. She rubbed it again, irritably. But then another slid by.

"Shit." She grumbled.

"Are you crying?" Ginger asked.

"No." She sniffed, then sobbed, betrayed by her own body.

Ginger pulled her close, into a hug. Brigitte stiffened instinctively, as arms slid around her shoulders. Arms she hadn't felt in so long, held in a way she hadn't been in so long, by someone she thought she'd never really see again.

Brigitte relaxed, wrapping her arms around her sister, burying her face in Ginger's shoulder.

"You're naked." Brigitte mumbled, after a moment.

"Werewolves don't wear clothes, B."

"Yeah, stupid thing to say now I think about it." She mumbled again, still buried in her sister's shoulder.

She noticed Ginger still had her necklace, the same as hers.

"You kept it." She tugged at it slightly.

She felt Ginger nod.

"So did you." Her sister mumbled into her hair.

Brigitte breathed in and out, slowly. Truly relaxed, for the first time in…too long.

"What do we do now?" Ginger asked, surprising her.

Ginger had always taken the lead. Ginger always had a plan. Not always a good one, since Brigitte was often the thinker, but still…

"I don't really know." Brigitte replied, pulling back. "I need to find more monkshood. Clothes would be good. Somewhere to stay, some work…"

"Monkshood?" Ginger asked, dubiously.

"It's not a cure, but I'm still not ready to just give up. I'm me, not some…beast, and I'm going to keep fighting for that."

"I don't know, B." Ginger murmured, reluctantly. "Sometimes, you can't win."

"Other times, we can." Brigitte argued, determinedly. "Sometimes, we'll lose. And for a few nights each month we'll be total, unholy bitches to deal with."

Ginger snorted, then laughed.

"Was that a joke?" She chuckled. "From you?"

"It actually was."

"That's twisted, B."

"Yeah." Brigitte smirked. "We can do this, Ginger." She affirmed, seriously.

She saw the vague, shadowy outline of Ginger nod slightly in the dark.

"Okay." Ginger said, finally. "You've changed. I still remember my brooding, dark little sister."

Their hands found each other, fumbling and clumsy.

"Out by sixteen…" Brigitte began.

"…or dead in this scene." Ginger finished.

"I didn't want to die anymore." Brigitte continued. "I don't want you to, either. It happened once, I didn't like it."

"I'm not sure what I want, anymore. I used to be." Ginger said, quietly. "Now there's…just you."

Brigitte tried to really see her sister, but it was just too dark. She considered mentioning the parallels, the reversal, almost, of their relationship, but decided against it.

They had…they had a second chance. And this time, she was going to try harder to make it work.

"Then let me help you. Help me. Help me help you." Brigitte insisted.

"I trust you, Brigitte." Ginger murmured.

She managed a smile. A real smile.

"We need to get out of here, first." Brigitte said, turning toward the direction of the stairs and clumsily feeling her way across the cellar.

"Are you feeling alright?" She heard Ginger ask from behind her.

"Never better." Brigitte replied, confidently, tugging her sister along by the hand.

She promptly put a foot wrong and fell forward with a yelp, but Ginger caught her by the arm.

"I'm fine." Brigitte struggled to regain her balance. Maybe she wasn't entirely okay, yet.

"Help me help you." Ginger grunted, helping her stand.

"I'm going to regret saying that, I can tell."

"You think too much, B." Ginger murmured into her ear, as they struggled together up the stairs. "So what about this Ghost? Because I'm all for ripping her a new one."

"Ginger…" Brigitte warned.

"Nobody locks my sister up in a cellar like some kind of wild animal."

"Ginger." Brigitte repeated, running her hand across the cellar door.

Still locked. Barred. Heavy. She hadn't even been able to move it when she'd had her strength, and it had clearly kept her in here when she'd changed.

"Oh come on, can't I break something? Something small, one finger? Just one finger."

But maybe between the two of them…

"Ginger!"

"Alright." Ginger huffed. "I tried the door already, when you were asleep."

"Then we try it again." Brigitte shrugged free of her sister and pushed up toward the door. "Together." She held out her hand.

The light was slightly better by the door. She could make out Ginger's pale face, messed up red hair, bare skin and body. Eyes locked onto hers. Looked like she'd seen better days.

But then she hadn't seen herself yet, and Brigitte already dreaded her first meeting with a mirror.

"Together?" Ginger asked, looking up at her, glancing at her open palm.

"Forever." Brigitte whispered, a half-smile curling at the edge of her lips.

Ginger took her hand.

A/N: For the moment, this stands finished as it is. But I am considering another few stand-alone entries continuing on from this, if people might be interested in that. Let me know what you guys think.