Disclaimer: I've resigned myself. The boys and the car will never be mine. Dammit.

Please please review? Puppy dog eyes? Sam eyes? Pretty please with more chapters on top?

Dana Woods

Something ran into the road directly in front of her car. Dana jammed on the brakes, laying rubber. Her school backpack slid from the passenger seat to the floorboards with a heavy thump.

Stray dog?

Stray dogs don't stand their ground and snarl. Stray dogs don't have eyes that glow in the dark.

"Well, shit," said Dana aloud. Then she killed the werewolf. With a heavy sigh, she pulled her car forward to cover the carcass. Turning on her hazard lights, she turned off the ignition and opened the door. She crossed the deserted, winding country road and started to run empty-handed up the rocky incline.

It was sort of like hearing, only it was more like seeing without eyes. There were at least six, maybe seven. Whoa. Eight. A whole pack of them, including two young ones. "Shit," said Dana again.

She could hear the werewolves snarling playfully at each other. Now that she was closer, Dana could see them lolling around the cave mouth, gnawing contentedly on bones. Whose bones, I wonder? Just one big puppy pile of vicious, infectious predator.

Yank. Yank. Yank. Yank. Yank. Yank. Shit shit. Yank. Yank.

One of them managed to yelp before its heart stopped beating. Sloppy, that, Dana thought coldly.

She took a moment, breathed deeply, and opened her mind. She didn't feel any more. God, she hoped there were no more. On good days she could sense as far out as a quarter mile, and she felt nothing but rabbits and a few birds.

Fine. Cleanup time.

With effort, Dana dragged the now-human, but thankfully small-boned body from under her car, then found an easier way up the incline. Lovely curls, a finely sculptured face, a deeply scarred but prettily shaped forearm -- Dana averted her eyes. She lugged the woman's corpse to the group of bodies, counted again while avoiding details as much as she could. Nine.

She made another trip down to her car and grabbed the big lantern and a shovel from the trunk. The lantern was one of those halogen-bulb bright-light doohickeys that ate batteries like there was no tomorrow, so she never bought any for it. In the circle of white light, she dug a hole inside the cave. She cried while she dug. The adults were victims as much as the children. She knew that. But shoveling dirt on top of the two little girls' bodies just made her sick.

Hours later, an exhausted and filthy Dana Woods got back into her car. She stripped off her University of Wisconsin sweatshirt and pulled on a T-shirt proudly emblazoned with "Electrical Engineers Do It With More Power." She turned the key and drove away.

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She'd certainly gotten her workout today, but she'd missed her usual gym time. Here's hoping the regulars didn't call out a search party, because she was pretty much there every day. Dana decided she needed to work more on those muscles she'd used digging, because she was certainly going to be sore tomorrow.

Over the last two years, her talent and what she could do with it had at least given her some variance in her workouts. Hunting was always interesting. Sometimes heartbreaking, but that was life.

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Dana paused outside her apartment. Only one person inside, she decided as she turned the key and let herself in.

One of the things she was most grateful to her talent for was that she had never walked in on her roommate and any of his lovers. That would be just yucky. Especially since Paul's preference in men was just a little too close to her own: Brunette or black-haired and well built. Watching her best friend grope her preferred male type was not what she needed in her fantasy life, thank you very much.

Dana dropped her keys on the counter and dumped her backpack under the hall table. "Hey," she said, flopping on the couch next to Paul, who barely looked up from "Friends." She hardly noticed the small groan the couch made. Five foot seven of stocky muscle meant that when she flopped, things damn well knew they'd been flopped upon.

"Hey sweetie," said Paul, giving her a glance between drooling over Joey. "Have some popcorn."

"Salt," groused Dana, taking a big handful anyway.

"Shut up, sweetie. The Show is on. You know the rules."

Dana rolled her eyes. "I gotta go shower anyway," she said as she hauled herself back out of the couch. Just then, the commercial break started.

"Yeah, you do," and Paul actually recoiled. "What have you been doing, digging ditches? You reek."

"Something like that," said Dana. "Don't ask." This was an understood phrase between them. Paul would not ask. They avoided some subjects, and with Paul's implicit consent, this would be one of them.

Twenty minutes later, Dana completed her nighttime routine and pulled on her usual sleeping costume of pajama pants and sleep shirt. Then she joined her roommate for an ancient rerun of "Wings," and the two of them laughed themselves silly over it.

Finally Dana dragged herself to bed. Differential Equations bright and early in the morning. Fun.

Once she was buried deep under the covers, arms wrapped firmly around her body pillow, she turned off the light.

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Pfc. Raoul Melendez followed his squad leader. He hated urban conflicts. In Iraq you never knew if the natives were friends or foes until they were much too close for comfort….