Milli- ~ The werewolf assignment begins ~

[i_vanquish_evil]

Van Helsing has received his new assignment from the Cardinal...

"Carl, I can't do this. You know that," Van Helsing slammed the expanded silver stake onto the table, startling the other workers in the lair before he stalked away to the sword rack, trying not to crush his hat in his frustration.

"Sure you can," Carl returned, gathering items from the table where he was working and putting them into a large leather bag. "Silver bullets, silver stakes, you'll be fine. You've done this before." He picked up the silver stake where Van Helsing had placed it, retracted it and moved it to its proper location on a nearby table.

Van Helsing wheeled on the friar, his face stern, brows knitted. "No. You don't understand. I can't do it." He released a sharp breath and stalked away again.

Carl followed, leaving the bag he had been packing behind and, when he was close enough, asked, "Van Helsing, what do you mean you can't do this? It's just like before."

Van Helsing ignored Carl as he stalked through the lab and into a side room. He stopped in the middle of the room, waiting. He heard the shuffling of Carl's robes as the friar entered the room behind him. "I can't face that again," was all he could say.

Silence.

The stone walls and heavy wooden tables stood stoically, offering little in the way of conversation or moral support. Carl was similarly silent. Van Helsing could feel the muscles in his shoulders beginning to tense. Closing his eyes, he sighed and rolled his shoulders, the leather of his duster creaked lightly with the movement.

Quietly, the friar said, "I'm sorry, Van Helsing, I don't understand what you mean."

He turned over his shoulder, peering at the man behind him, and replied, "I can't face another werewolf, Carl. Not after last time." And the costume at Milliways that I can't tell him about.

"What?" There was a pause, then, "Oh," from Carl. "What is the likelihood that it would happen to you twice?"

Van Helsing shot Carl a scathing look as he turned around.

"Well, all right. Granted, in your profession, it's more likely possible than for someone else, but don't you think you might be immune?"

"No."

"Right. What if I have a back-up plan?" Carl asked, ducking his head a bit as though afraid his suggestion had already been rejected.

Van Helsing blinked once. "You know of someone else willing to take on a werewolf?" he asked confused.

"Well, no. But, remember the anti-venom that Dracula had?"

"Yes," he frowned at the friar. Where is he going with this?

"I kept a sample and recreated it. I think. I haven't been able to fully test it yet, but I'm pretty sure it will work." The friar seemed to shrink toward the door a bit more.

"You recreated the werewolf anti-venom?" He waited for the nod from Carl. "How?"

Carl looked surprised that Van Helsing was asking about the procedure for one of his experiments. He had not done that before. "Chemistry, really." He stopped; waited to see if he should proceed.

"Maybe I should have asked, why? Why did you do it? Did you know they were going to send me on this mission?" Van Helsing took several steps toward Carl.

Carl retreated from the furrowed brow on Van Helsing's face. "No. But I figured the one time wouldn't be the only time you had to face a werewolf and thought it best to be prepared. It's taken me this long to get it to a point where it was almost ready for field testing."

"I am not a lab rat, Carl. If I'm going to take that into the field, it had better work!"

"It will! I'm not sending it out with you until I test it. You're not leaving until tomorrow."

Van Helsing scowled. Yes, that's comforting.

Carl looked hurt. "My lab tests were positive. I just need to do a field test."

"Carl," Van Helsing cocked his head to one side, "where are you going to find a new werewolf on which to test it?"

"Funny you should ask…"

"Carl," reproached Van Helsing, "you had better not be thinking what I'm sure I'd have to strangle you for thinking…"

"Huh?" Carl asked with confusion. "Oh, no. We have… uh… someone who was recently attacked by a werewolf." He frowned at Van Helsing. "You honestly thought I'd have you turned into a werewolf to test the serum? Van Helsing, I'm a scientist." His voice dropped in volume a bit, "We have test subjects for that sort of thing."

"Carl!" another reproach.

"Provided by the Order! I didn't recruit them," the friar back-pedaled. "I didn't want to use a human subject, but given the… specific nature of this ailment, there really is no other way, now is there?"

Van Helsing's shoulders lowered in a heavy sigh and he shook his head. "I suppose not. Let me know when the testing is complete." He stepped around the friar and toward the door.

"Van Helsing, where are you going?" Carl asked, his voice pitching toward hysteria.

"To get some food and sleep," he called over his shoulder as he left the little room.

"Oh, well, that sounds good," Carl said, mostly to himself.

*****

The sparse room in the back of the church was exactly that - sparse. The bed - cot, actually - was shoved into one corner and draped with a drab, wool blanket; a chair sat alone in the opposite corner and a small table on one wall held the few candles that lit the room. He tossed his hat in the general direction of the chair; it landed neatly on the seat. Beyond that, he was only able to manage falling, face first, onto the cot, one arm and one leg hanging off the edge, draped along the floor. He groaned and tugged at his coat to get the Tojo blade grip out of his ribcage, then dropped his head back to the pillow.

The bed was several inches too short for his better than six-foot frame, but it was better than no bed at all. Flat pillow, scratchy blanket – almost heaven, really. Considering the last place he had slept had been… he honestly could not remember the last time he had actually gotten any sleep. That was exhausting in and of itself. He closed his eyes in the silent room, lit only by a few flickering candles, and tried to sleep.

Sleep came, but it brought raging nightmares along for the ride, making restful sleep near impossible. Carl stood in the doorway, watching the exhausted Knight fighting for sleep. He wanted to help, to help the man sleep more peacefully, get some well-deserved rest, but there was nothing he could do. Van Helsing seemed to be impervious to the sleeping draughts he made… or had made and there was no medicinal remedy for nightmares. He would sit with the man if he thought it would help at all, but it never had before; all the times he tried - sitting far away, sitting close by the bed, at the head, at the foot, on either side, sitting on the floor, in a chair, nothing worked. The poor man tossed and turned or jerked in his sleep, every time, without fail. Perhaps that was why Van Helsing slept as rarely as he did - not because he was always on an assignment, but because he was afraid of what would meet him in his sleep.

Resigned to try to do something, Carl found a book, pulled the chair a little closer to the cot, placed Van Helsing's hat on the end of the cot, sat down and began to read, softly. It seemed to help some. The Knight stopped twitching and lay still, arm and leg still hanging off the edge of the cot, but the restlessness was gone.

Pleased that his idea seemed to be working, Carl read by the dim candlelight until he was too tired to continue. He closed the book, returned the chair to its corner, replaced Van Helsing's hat on the chair and exited the little room.