This is an original story, written when I was fourteen. I found a bunch of old material that is fodder for great stories. Please review and tell me HONESTLY what you think! I love to hear form my readers!

Much Love,

Jax :3

I ran. The night was still. The only sound was my own ragged breathing, and the pounding of my heart. My legs, they felt like lead, weighing me down, keeping me from my goal.

I saw that comforting light, the warm glow of a porch lamp. I ran faster. A barbed wire fence, barely discernible from its surroundings, stood between me and that farm house. A moment of panic, and I jumped. The adrenaline was enough to push me over, but just when I thought I had cleared it, my bare leg came crashing down on the wire.

I had no time to stop. I ripped my leg savagely from the clinging fingers of cold metal. I cried out, the pain shooting up my leg, my spine, and into my neck. I felt something hot and sticky run down my leg.

Blood.

Now they would smell me, pinpoint my location. And they would come. Like a swarm of vultures, they would come, anticipating the hot liquid running down their inhuman throats.

Vampires.

I shuddered, kept running, limping through the long grass, crying silent tears, wishing for death. I wished they would come, take me, as they took my mother. Silent, swift, and deadly. I had cried then, the day my mother was assimilated into their ranks.

I still saw her sometimes. Running with them, staying to dark shadows during the day. Coming out at night to feast on some poor unsuspecting human.

Disgusting.

I would not become one of them. They had tried for years to get me, to taste my Comanche blood. They knew the smell, the taste, of a Comanche. They had known my father's blood. But he had been weak, and had not attempted survival. They had slain him, not wanting a man among them.

And so they were, a pack of female hunters. Like the lionesses in Africa, they prowled the streets of cities far and near. Chicago, Los Angeles, Denver. These places reeked of their stench. They posed as strip dancers and whores, but when they finally did lure some drunken fool off the street, he never returned.

I watched them, scrutinized their every move. I kept to the light. They knew I was there, but could only watch as I strutted by. They hissed under their breath, cursing me for my arrogance. How dare I strut about their territory as if I owned it?

And there I was, bleeding profusely, just feet away from the house. If I could only get to my guns. And then I heard it. A slight whisper, as of wind caressing the tips of grass. But the wind, I knew, was merely a foreshadow of them.

They were there, behind me. I stopped, did a one-eighty, and came face-to-face with my own mother. She hissed, backed off. Her fangs glinted in the fluorescent light, pale skin giving off a greenish glow.

She had been so lovely, when blood flowed through her veins. I sighed sadly, and turned away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. The shimmering ripples on the pond wavered. Just then the porch light went out, and we were left in moonlight.

I glanced up. Full moon. A wicked grin spread across my hadn't I thought of it before? I had been pursued through the night, needlessly. I was the one they would not, could not touch. No matter how hard they wished it, they could not sink their cold, reptilian fangs into the soft flesh of my neck. Because I was what they feared the most.

A werewolf.

But unlike most, I could change at will, not relying on the full moon, though I was strongest then. I began to chuckle, and the chuckle gave way to full-blown laughter. Soon, the human sounds gave way to a more primal, animal sound. I felt my body begin to prickle, and a tingling sensation spread from the tips of my painted fingernails and the roots of my black hair to my toes. I thanked God I had gone barefoot. I had already gone through several pairs of Nike's that month.

My primal growl turned to a full out roar, and the vampires shifted nervously. A collective shiver ran through their ranks. Sudden silence filled the clearing. I had completely transformed into a seven-foot tall, silver werewolf, and stood on scarred haunches, one leg still bleeding. My mother stood transfixed, watching the trail of red through that sea of silky, almost liquid-looking fur.

A deep-throated growl issued from the chest cavity of this beast, no longer a five-foot six, tan track star. I was something more, and my animal side was taking control.

The animal inside knew no bounds.

A second tremor ran through them, and my mother hissed, loud and frightened. I lunged, and in a swirling cloud of black smoke, she vanished. In a split second, green eyes flashing, I had altered course, and took down three of the larger ones, ripping off their heads and flinging them into the pond. A huge green puff of smoke, and something smelling of sulfur, issued from the pond. I continued my rampage, as more and more of them began disappearing in clouds of black smoke.

By the time the last one disappeared, I had ripped several to pieces, and wounded a handful. I was satisfied for the evening

Until next time. I thought, glancing at the place where that woman I no longer called Mother had stood. I will get you, Nagai.

I woke in a daze, sunlight flooding my senses. I sniffed groggily, smelling sweat, blood and tears. My eyes snapped open, and I took in my surroundings.

I was in my room, that was certain. I recognized the emerald green, velvet window hangings. I moved only my eyes, a habit that I had acquired when I became what they feared.

My eyes fell on a pair of worn leather moccasins. After determining the coast was clear, I got up, walked to where they lay, and sniffed. A long, drawn out breath, decoding the separate smells.

Leather, pine, some human-smelling cologne. And blood. Vampire blood.

I growled, flung them at the window. Discovering it was closed, I opened it, and was about to throw out the revolting shoes when, from the doorway, came a new sound. I stiffened, snapped my head around, and slowly reached for the knife that was strapped to my leg.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Came a man's voice, a hint of a chuckle in his words. My eyes narrowed and I dropped the boots, hand still hovering over the knife hilt. The first thing I saw was a boy, seventeen maybe, standing in my doorway, leaning nonchalantly on the frame.

I sighed, relaxing from my stance, and began hunting down some clean clothes.

"What are you doing here, Adrian?" I asked.

"Why, waiting for you to wake up, sleepyhead." The blue-eyed boy grinned roguishly, ducking when I threw his boots at him.

"Why did you leave your boots in my room?" I asked, still searching for a clean shirt. Finding none, I slipped a dark grey hoodie over my black cami. Finding a pair of denim jeans was simple, and as I pulled them on over my black boxers, Adrian asked,

"Why do you insist on wearing boxers? For God's sake, you're a girl!" He threw his hands up in the air. He walked up behind me, putting his arms around my waist.

"I don't know. I personally think they're comfortable." I smiled as he spun me around to face him. I trailed my index finger down the middle of his chest, stopping when his stomach growled. I raised an eyebrow. "Hungry much?"

I laughed at his rueful expression before dragging him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I promptly began tossing bacon and eggs into a pan.

"What would I do without you?" He asked, blue eyes twinkling.

"Oh, you'd probably survive, but you'd be one very hungry Slayer." I kissed his nose lightly.

He became sober at the mention of his occupation.

"I'm sorry, baby. Did I do something?" I asked.

"No, I just...wish we could be like normal people. I mean, killing vampires is fun and all, but what if one of us gets killed, or worse?"

"Babe, do you really think they'll ever get me? It's you I'm worried about." I hugged him, resting my head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, I closed my eyes, imagining us on a beach in Hawaii, instead of a cabin in the northern mountains of Montana.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed as the smell of burning eggs reached my nostrils.