In Good Company

 Tom dialed the sheriff because Madeline Dupree was killing the girl with not from the FBI. 

That was how she had said it. She didn't smell like a cop and she wasn't were and there was something else he didn't understand about her, but she was going to get the investigation to back down even after she understood what Madeline was (and what he was) and now it looked like her neck was bleeding and he didn't give her a long time and didn't think he had time to intervene either. 

He was telling Le Roi where to go to pick up the body when he saw the girl get up and give Madeline a good punch to the throat and then arm-barred her down and rolled her over, twisting her arm behind her back and then sat there. On Madeline Dupree. The werewoman alive and mad as hell. And the girl also alive with hardly any business being. Just sitting still on top of her twisting her arm.

She seemed very still though. He pocketed his phone and walked to them. What was her name again? Genevieve.

He didn't know what to actually say. There wasn't actually anything to do. He saw the lights from Le Roi;s car and Le Roi was Rougarou and he wouldn't say shit if he was up to his neck in it. He let the girl get up and hand off Madeline Dupree without a word, and just nodded to Tom as if, if there was anything that needed to take place between Tom and the girl with not from the FBI, he figured Tom would go on and take care of business. 

The girl had crouched down and was feeling her way through her very large purse for a bottle of water, and then she poured it down her neck--the outside of her neck, washing it with her hands, before rinsing out her mouth 

Not a wound nor a scar. She was deliberately showing him that. And then it came into frame. 

She was ready to bury the investigation knowing what they were, because she was something else herself. And he helped her up by her elbow and led her to his own car. Wordlessly, she went with him. He couldn't think of any better place to take her than his own home. He knew it might not be a perfect solution, but he would let it play out. 

"Madeline Dupree is not a typical case," he said, to make conversation. "She never knew what she was. She was orphaned as a small child and had no way of knowing her...heritage. Then a person of our community--the murder you were investigating. Well..." 

Genevieve gestured for Tom to look away from her, which he understood after a few desperate handwaves. She rolled down the window and retched, spitting wel outside the car, quite admirably for a lady since many never really learned how to spit properly. She cleared her throat and then raspingly asked,

"So, he turned her, and she never knew what was happening to her?"

Turned. So many legends about how weres worked, so little truth to it all. "He bit her and never explained what could happen, yes. I don't know if he thought she knew, or how he explained it. But she definitely had the wrong idea about everything, and it was a revenge-killing for her. It really, it isn't bad, Genevieve. We aren't monsters." 

"I know. I think. Just changing and not knowing what you are, that's something I can understand."

He let that go for a minute. But what was she? 

And then he let the girl into his house. Even knowing that there were some things out there that were definitely not safe at all. And having no idea at all about her. 

She entered and started taking off her bloody shirt, with a black, not-destroyed camisole underneath. She stared at the shirt. He took it from her and said, "I think it's a lost cause." 

She breathed heavily. "So, you saw me nearly die."

"Right."

"Hm."

He decided to throw it away and give her options. "You aren't were. You aren't a vampire. They were a death cult in Eastern Europe, the blood-drinking was mostly an affectation. I think they are all gone, now."

"You said I don't smell right--what do I smell like?"

"Teen Spirit."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I deserve that. I'm...an accident. A one-off."

"An accident?"

"An experiment gone wrong."

"A government experiment? US? Canada? I heard Canada had a very old fellow..."

"Neither. "

"A Frankenstein monster?" he suggested, jokingly.

"Well, Frankenstein was the doctor and....I guess I'm both?"

"Dr. Banner, then."

"I don't turn green."

"I don't turn into a wolf. Or even a shaggy dog. Or even Fred MacMurray." 

She smiled and then sighed. "Can I use your bathroom?" 

Well? She had a terrible night so far, of course she needed it. He showed her the way.