Chapter II

A thud resounded through my office, as my head hits the desk in exhaustion. It was another late night of filling out paper work; mostly complaints about my pain-in-the-ass consultant, who was currently pretending to sleep out in the bullpen. It was a little after 12:00 and I still had about a fourth of the paper work left to go through. I sighed in despair as I got up to get another cup of coffee, abut my 13…hmmm…or is it 15 now. I shake my head to try and focus my wondering thoughts and turn on the coffee machine.

Beeping jolts me out of my exhausted trance and I turn around to face the coffee machine, to pour my beloved vice. I inhaul the wonderful smell as steam coats my face in a sweet caress. I take a reverent sip of the dark liquid before I head back to my prison.

I am half way between the kitchen and my office when I feel overwhelming fear coarse through my whole being. The cup of coffee falls forgotten, from my now numb fingers, as I turn and head for the stairs at an all-out sprint. I hear a voice shout my name right before the door to the stair well slams shut. It is unimportant…It is all unimportant… Except getting to my pack mate...Of protecting her…I'll deal with the consequences latter…I'll deal with Jane latter.

Sand flies up behind me, from the powerful strides of my legs, as I get closer and closer to my destination. I only have about 10 more minutes before I get there. I silently pray that she can last that long…That she can keep away from whatever or whoever is threatening her just long enough for me to get there.

'Faster...Faster…Faster...Faster' is my silent chant as I push my legs harder, trying to go a little faster. When I 'feel' the pain in 'my' leg I know I won't make it. I am familiar enough with that particular sting to know what's about to happen. I won't make it in time…The poison will have already have consumed her before I get there. Even being shot in such a benign place as the leg, silver is deadly to therianthropes if not treated immediately…And I wouldn't make it in time to treat it, too much damage would have been wrought, it would have reach the internal organs by the time I got there.

I still pushed myself harder, trying to go just a bit faster, even if it is a shallow hope that she'd be able to hold out a little longer than she should. My hopes are crushed when I 'feel' the pain of a blade ripping through 'my' abdomen.

A snarl of grief and despair escapes from my throat as I felt the last member of my pack leave me. My body crashes limply to the sand as the loneliness engulfs my body, causing it to convulse in pain. My breath comes in short, sporadic bursts and my heart rate soars as panic sets in.

'Not again...Oh Gods, please not again' I think. A therianthrope shouldn't be able to live once there pack or family is gone, leaving them alone; but I can, or at least did once…I had a promise to keep that I couldn't if I was no longer of the living; so my will to fulfill that promise overruled my need to go were my pack had gone, to not be alone. I don't have that now; there is no promise to keep, there is no one left to protect…and I'm so, oh so tired! I have lived far longer than one would ever guess; although I've lost track by now, at least past 5 centuries. I've lived a long enough life and I am so tired, so it's enough. I'm ready for what's next...Ready to see my pack and family again…To rejoin those that have left before me, to go beyond the veil that separates this life from the next.

With a long suffering sigh my mind is made up...I won't fight anymore...I have saved enough lives, I've done my good deeds...Now I get to rest. I let my heart slow and my breath become slower and shallower. I started to shut down my body...cell by cell...organ by organ. 'A little more" I think, 'just a few more minutes.'

Black nothingness starts to engulf my vision when a murmur is registered in my clouded, cottony brain. It's annoying and won't go away...I get irritated, 'You'd think I could at least have peace when I'm dying, right? Is that really so much to ask?'

The murmuring gets louder and more distinct, as whatever is causing it comes closer to me. I start to wish that this whole dying think would speed up…I mean how long does it take to die? It couldn't have been as long as it's seemed could it? I mean I've held people while their dying and it always seems to only take a few seconds for them to die…Now I know that perception is skewed when you really want something, which right now happens to be death, but still this is getting ridiculous. I feel like I could have almost finished all those papers that are still sitting on my desk back at work by now.

Finally the black nothingness, which I must say isn't as pleasant as books like to make it out to be-it's really cold, has almost completely engulfed my senses when a scream breaks into my awareness, or what was left of it, causing my body to jerk to life and, instinctively, race to the source of the fear filled cry for help. I am already crouched on a balcony of one of the nearby hotels when my mind finally catches up with my body. I silently curse my painstakingly honed instincts as I realize that once again duty keeps me from joining my fallen family. I'm really regretting becoming a CBI agent instead of a social worker, my reflexive instincts wouldn't have been so honed if I'd become a social worker instead of an agent.

I refocused my meandering thoughts to survey the scene unfolding below my perch. What I see causes rage to spread through my entire body: five guys; scruffy, foul smelling tattoo littered beasts; surrounding a girl, maybe in her mid-twenties with gorgeous blond hair. They have her backed into the adjacent wall, of a hotel, to the one I am residing on. I don't know why the human race calls my kind monsters or demons when we'd never do anything as despicable as hurt a defenseless and innocent being, sentient or not.

A growl escapes my throat as the scum start to pick at her clothing, there intention clear by the arousal pouring off of them. They whip around so fast that it'd be amusing in other circumstances, as they look for the source of the noise. I can smell the fear starting to wafer off of them as they become aware of my watchful, inhuman eyes. I give a cry of rage when one of them nicks the girl with a knife when she attempts to flee.

I leap from my perch knocking into the closest body to me, sinking my teeth and claws into his torso. A burst of sweet nectar fills my mouth just seconds before I pull away from the limp and unresponsive, but not dead, body. I waste no time dispatching, savagely but not fatally, the remaining four barbarians.

I slowly and tentatively approach the girl, who is now huddled against the wall. I lower my head and body it a non-threatening posture when she shrinks further away, whimpering like a wounded animal. I plaintively whine and nudge her foot when I am close enough, trying to convey my harmless intentions. She doesn't seem to understand, as she scrambles up and away from me.

I sigh and turn away from her, trying to ease her fear as she runs away as fast as she can. I walk over to the nearest body of the scum who had dared to interrupt my attempt to depart this world. I shift back to my bi-peddled form and search his pockets, looking for a phone to call for medical assistance. I finally find it and call a number I have, unfortunately, used far too many times. I speak in a hysterical voice, rambling about body's and blood and then give the address when, after a calculated amount of time of pretending to be calmed down by the person on the other end of the line, asked where I am.

I hang up with a self-satisfied smirk on my face, maybe I should have become an actress, which quickly falls when I remember why I am there. I shift one more time after wiping the phone off, to remove my fingerprints, and then start the long trek back to my apartment. Since I didn't know where to find the body of my deceased pack member; I was only fallowing an invisible pull to find her, now it's gone.

Right before I enter my apartment I look up to the moon and cry my pain to it, giving it my loneliness and desolation, as my kind has done for centuries. I then enter through the window I always keep open and curl up on my bed, not bothering to shift back into my human form, as sleep claims me. My worry and pain will have to wait until the morning to torment me.

***Plz R&R…I'd appreciate the advice and thoughts***