Chapter 1: Communication is the Real Bitch

I hate living.

Not in that suicidal way- well okay sometimes- but in that "are you fucking with me," kind of way.

You see, I may be a cynical, pessimistic, atheist asshole all the time, but one thing I am a strong believer in is Karma. I speak from experience when I say: yes, she really is a bitch.

And when I woke up this morning from the usually night terrors, kicking and screaming, and went about hallucinating my dead vampire half-brother, I didn't think anything strange was going to happen.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Here I was, in the middle of a fucking hurricane or something, because the rain was dropping on me like buckets, and this wolf was staring at me like I just flashed my boobs or something. Those puppy dog eyes bore into me with the intensity of a restraining-order worthy creeper, and I was literally shitting my pants. He brought such a sense of fear into me, that I was reluctant to look away, much less turn my back on this were-thing.

The moment I laid my glasses-clad eyes on the thing, I recognized it to be a shifter. I know they prefer werewolf- but please. If you don't shift during a full moon, you ain't no werewolf son.

This was partly my fault. Actually, let's be real right now- it was all my fault. Walk into wolf territory and you know you're gonna get it. Even a disgraced witch like moi should have the brains to comprehend that.

And because I like to think we live in a developed society, I did the one thing I do best: communication.

"Umm… ah… hey there buddy," I practically coughed out, while backing away slowly, "how you doing?"

In response, unfortunately, the beast moved closer, as if taking what I had just said as some sort of invitation, causing me to abruptly stop and properly assess the situation.

Now, I had three- no wait four- options:

Scream at the top of my lungs.

Break-down crying while singing "Eye of the Tiger."

Look intensely at the wolf say, "I'll be back," and jump off the cliff to my right.

Use my magic, revealing myself as a witch, and possibly becoming a personal spell-slave to the wolves for the rest of my miserable life, and eventually committing suicide only to discover there is a hell, and burning for eternity in the unrelenting inferno of the underworld.

Naturally, I fucked up and combined three in my confusion- what can I say I don't respond well to pressure. I started screaming the lyrics to "Eye of the Tiger" and crying while jumping on the spot and singing "I'll be back," to replace the drums in the song. As you could possibly imagine, the wolf was now scared for its life.

Someone must have heard me hit rock bottom, because seconds later, while I was still performing my desperate rhapsody, a group of half-naked Native dudes and magazine-y albinos came crashing through the forest, and into the clearing by the cliffs that I was currently having a mental breakdown in.

And that kids is how I met your mother.

Ha. Jus kiddin.

That's how I fell off a cliff and died.

A/N: I'm sorry for any traumatization. I wrote this on the brink of having an anxiety attack, let's just say it helped. Be as cruel as you want with the comments, I actually enjoy conflict. Want me to continue? This is a less serious piece, because apparently people aren't into that kinda senti shit, and that's kool or whatever. This is gonna be a crossover of: Twilight, Teen Wolf, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Vampire Diaries, True Blood, and The Originals. Why? Because I fucking want it to be! :3