Hello there! *hides from sad and angry reviewers*

SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY!

We were going to post this yesterday, on the 28th, as a birthday gift for ourselves and for you, but we had no time, no computer and no Internet! The whole world was against us! *cries*

So… Here it is… Our belated birthday gift! And check our other belated birthday gift… *insert drumrolls here* AN ONESHOT! It's completely random and it's called June's Mistletoe, but give it a chance and tell us what you think!

To all of those who had any of my fics under Story or Author Alert, we plead you to do it again. We have been told that it didn't alert those who checked my updates through it. Thank you! By the way, in this chapter you will learn something new about the Dark Moon leaders and Sam's past. The mystery ensues... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I'M EVIL!

Enough rambling, and thanks to all my reviewers! xXMidnightFireHeartxX, terraXbbXFAN2, angelluver92, Jimmie130 andLooka'sMagicHell(with who I am writing a DP fic - Ooh, and Grawsome is a nice portmandeu!*nods head approvingly*

IMPORTANT:

This is a challenge, guys! PM or post in your review the funniest thing that has ever happened to you! If your experience is the funniest and makes me fall off the chair because I'm laughing so hard, you get the next chapter dedicated to you, as well as a preview of one of the next chapters of this fic or of one of the ones that aren't posted yet, and you get the privilege of having one of the twins passing through the same as you did! Thank you guys!

Onto the next chapter! And give us MANY belated birthday gifts (cough-reviews-cough)!

Luv u guys!

Sam+Twin=Trouble

Chapter 7 – Ready or Not

'Samara, I LOVE YOU! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!'

'OK, I think I began to understand why ya' get so annoyed when I do that. Please, STOP! It's givin' me a freaking headache!'

Sam chuckled sheepishly.

'Sorry... But THANK YOU SO MUCH!'

Samara's eye twitched with annoyance. Both Danny and Tucker watched the expressions of the girls flick back and forth like they were having a mental conversation. Could they actually be having a mental debate?, they mused. Nah...

Some hours had passed after the confrontation with the Dark Moon's ghost, from which Sam was saved from answering unpleasant questions (cough-how-can-you-fight-and-win-against-a-freakin'-ninja-like-ghost?-cough) and had evaded any type of conversation about it... Which evolved both twins intercepting Danny's attempts to tell Tucker about what had happened. Heh.

Just like they were doing now.

"Hey, Tucker, you know that ghost me and Sam were—"

"Hey, I just remembered! There's a promotion on that place – the Nasty Burger, I think – that says that if you buy three extra-big burgers, you get two free!" Samara piped in. Sam was quick to follow her lead, nodding like mad.

"She's right! Like, totally, absolutely-"

"-completely, wonderfully-"

"-amazingly, incredibly-"

"-astonishingly-"

"-brilliantly-"

"-delightfully-"

"-surprisingly right!" Sam completed, grinning like a maniac.

"Uh-uh." Samara nodded in agreement. Then, she paused, looking in though before frowning. "Hey, what do ya' mean by 'surprisingly'? It is not surprising that I'm right! Right?"

Sam patted her sister's head in pity.

"Whatever you say, Mar-Mar... Whatever you say. You just gotta' believe it."

Samara pouted.

"Not fair!" She whined. "How come ya're always right and I'm only right sometimes?"

"Don't worry, sis'... One day, you will be right again. And in that day, I'll be at least a hundred times righter."

"Wha? Is righter even a word? Shouldn't it be more right? Wait... Now that I think of it, righter sounds better."

Sam shrugged.

"I think so... At least, when I wrote it on the computer it didn't put that weird wavy red line under it, so I suppose it's a word."

'We are so good at evading questions.'

'I know! ...Right?'

Somewhere Unknown

"You failed!"

The minion cringed. It was a ghost, and had a ninja-like attire. For those familiar with the twins, it was the same one who had attacked Sam and Danny.

The shadow who had hissed moved a little, letting the minion see another figure behind it.

"Please forgive me!" The ghost whimpered. "I wasn't strong enough! Please, Mistress, be merciful!"

He could feel the amusement in the shadow's voice when it answered back.

"Oh, I know that you weren't strong enough... When it comes to dear ol' Sammy, not even our entire army can surpass them in power. And that's exactly why she will join us."

The ghost looked up, hopeful that maybe the Mistress would be merciful and spare his afterlife.

She smirked, even though the ghost couldn't see her.

"But that, however, isn't a reason not to kill you."

The screams of the minion were the only sound that anyone around heard for hours.

"Soon, Sammy, I will get you."

The shadow moved into the light, revealing luscious lips, long burning red hair with streaks, and amazingly cruel amethyst eyes.

"Soon."

It was a promise.

Manson Mansion

"Two hundred and ninety-eight..."

"Sam?"

"Two hundred and ninety-nine..."

"Sam. Saaaam! SAM!"

"Three hundred!" With a triumphant smirk, Sam got down from the bar where she had been doing one-handed push-ups and paid attention to her sister. "Yes? Were you talking to me, Samara?"

Said girl rolled her eyes.

"Of course not, SAM. I've only been saying your name out loud for the past fifteen minutes because I like to do it!"

Sam cocked her head to the side.

"Really?" She asked, interested.

"NO!"

Sam pouted.

"Oh, darn it. I really thought you liked saying 'Sam' since, you know, it's also one of your nicknames and stuff..." She shrugged. "Ah, too bad."

"What? Oh, ya're right! It is! Wait... Ah, damn, ya're right again!"

Sam smirked maliciously.

"And that makes our punctuation... Sam The Great – 74.563.728 times right; Weird Twin Sister – 4 times right. And counting."

Samara huffed in indignation and walked out of the room. Her gothic sister simply shook her head, chuckling at their silliness.

Oh, well. I have to practice anyway.

Breathing slowly and deeply, she stretched as much as she could, reaching high. When her head started to feel dizzy, she slowly got back to her initial posture, cracking the jolts on her back and neck. Feeling more relaxed, she twisted a bit before doubling over backwards, her hands touching her heels. With some more effort, she pushed herself harder, her head touching the back of her knees. Her muscles ached from the extreme position she was in, but she only pushed herself farther until her head passed between her legs, her arms extended back to maintain balance.

Her control over her muscles broke, and she ended in the floor. Sam vaguely thought of herself as a plastic band: when stretched to its maximum, it would either go back to its normal situation or it would snap. She had snapped too many times to her own liking, though, and she wouldn't let it happen again.

She winced as her fall made her scar hurt. Twisting so she could get a better look, she observed it with a trained eye. It hurt like hell, like liquid fire in her veins, acid and burning, but her control over herself was stronger, and she didn't let any pain show. It was awful, and even after three years it still hadn't fully cicatrized. With an hiss when it touched her aching skin, she lifted her shirt and groaned.

Great. Just bloody freackin' great.

It was open again. She surveyed warily the wound, the straight line that had caused her so much pain and helplessness. It was a long, deep, ugly scar, half opened. The parts that weren't oozing blood were a dark red, with tinges of black and stripes of silver that vaguely resembled a criss-cross pattern, somewhat burnt, somewhat stitched.

It matches my hair, she thought dryly, with dark humour.

She remembered how she had received it.

Fire. There was fire everywhere, burning and twisting, melting everything that came close. Red, yellow, blue and green, the flames colour changed with the temperature – she vaguely remembered someone telling her the fire had those pretty colours because of the salt. But it wasn't pretty now. It was hot, too hot, and the burning air made her delicate skin boil and form painful bubbles. Too much heat. It was too much.

The sword she was gripping on her injured hand protested; the metal was unbearably hot. Patches of skin were glued to it, the high temperature of the sword making the skin recoil and deteriorate into raw flesh. It hurt like hell. She didn't care.

She only wanted to kill.

The blood fever pulsing through her made her ignore the pain, the ache in her lungs, the lack of fresh hair, the burned skin, the corpses of her family and friends on the ground, the ashes that entered her eyes, making them sting and difficulting her vision, the roar of the fire surrounding her, the ache of her muscles, her exhaustion and fatigue, the desire to just lie down and let everything go, the fire consuming her body, leaving nothing but ashes behind... Everything was a blur to her, raw determination and the desire for revenge the only things that kept her standing, with her sword in hand.

It could have been beautiful, if it didn't bring so much desolation and pain. The multicoloured fire, dancing around the air, consuming the trees, the houses and the corpses in a lethal charm. The flames licking her bare feet, the hem of her dress already on fire, the purple fabric stained with the vital crimson liquid, burning, twisting, and crinkling into torn straps of fragile burnt rags.

The pain, the loss and the guilt had been repressed in a faraway place of her mind – only revenge mattered now. It was some strange kind of lust, this feeling. There was something sensual in the way the sword fir perfectly into her hand, the way the flames bit into her raw skin, the devilish and somewhat guttural growl that came from the back of her throat, the readiness to the battle that made her muscles tense, the exotic and glorious feeling of the clash of the weapons, the almost erotic bliss of revenge.

That was blood lust to her.

And so she was the only survivor, the only one facing their opponents, the only one standing long enough to fight.

Samara had flown off long ago, and so had Alexander. Bloody cowards – 'traitors' was a better word, actually. Running of, leaving them all to die. What had happened to all the promises of support, faithfulness and braveness? Where did it all go, now that it really mattered? Never mind. It only served to show her where their true loyalties really lied.

Her lip was bleeding, she spit the crimson liquid at the feet of her opponents. She could die, sure, but she would be sure to take them with her. No matter what.

She gripped the sword tighter. It was time.

With a growl, she lunged at the shadows. The two cloaked figures moved, one to each side, and the smallest one took a step forward, drawing its own sword – which, by the way, looked too much like Sam's to be comfortable.

It was a lovely thing, really, in a somewhat lethal way. The handle was of a dark colour, moulded to fit her hand perfectly, an extension of her arm. The metal had a hint of silver to it, and was almost indestructible - it was sharp, accurate, and quite elegant, just like its owner. In the handle, there was a moon-shaped onyx incrusted.

The cloaked figure's sword was too alike Sam's to be a coincidence.

They were the same size, equally strong, flexible and agile, both swords and their owners. They were equally matched. It was strange, but at the same time it had some kind of appeal, to find a worthy opponent. It was some kind of dance, their fighting. Swords clashing, their owners' bodies twisting, turning, evading, ducking and jumping. It was a mortal dance, they both knew it. Their steps were perfectly choreographed, every move carefully studied and scrutinized by both of them; neither of them could afford any mistakes. In this particular dance, when you failed, you died.

They fought for a long time. The other shadowed figure simply stood there, watching them, never showing any signs of being uncomfortable by the fact it had been standing the whole time. They fought, dancing with Death, a graceful blur of black, crimson and purple in the middle of the fire.

And then it was over.

Sam's sword clattered to the ground,

Blood tinged the burning ground, quickly forming a puddle.

She fell to her knees, eyes wide in shock.

No!

The fighter also seemed surprised – its sword hadn't any blood in it.

There was someone behind her, and the other shadow wasn't in the same place as before. Her back had been slashed practically in two, from shoulder to hip...

She had lost – it had been unfair, they all knew, betrayal of the rules of duelling – but she had lost all the same.

She had lost.

She was going to die.

No!

They left, not sparing her another glance. They took her sword, and left her to die between the flames.

But against all the odds, she survived.

Sam grimaced. She had been burnt badly – which was partially good because it closed a few parts of the wound, but she had also lost a lot of blood. She had stitched herself, twisting her body in an impossible angle, no anaesthesia; she had had no mercy to her own body. She had passed out from blood loss and almost died before she had been found.

And now the bloody scar was open again. She was lying in a pool of her own blood, just like before. And if her gut feeling was right, the games had begun again, whether she was ready or not.

The last thing she saw before the world went black was a pair of concerned eyes.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

WE'RE EVIL!

Bet you weren't expecting any of that, right? Hummm... This chapter ensues some questions, isn't it?

Yeahhhh... *nods* Like, "Who is Alexander?", "Why did Samara and Alexander run off?", "Why did those shadowed figures burn that place?", "WHO are those shadowed figures?", "Who is the girl with amethyst eyes and red hair?", "What games is Sam referring to?", "Why do I ask so many questions?", "Why do we spend so much time without updating?", "Why-"

Ok, Ok, we got it! Can you shut up now? *sighs* I am sad, however, to say we won't be posting from the 14th to de 30th, since I'll be travelling to another island with my grandmother. And I'll probably be bored to death.

Uh-uh. So, you can't say this chapter is short and a filler, because it most certainly isn't! Nuh-uh! Lots of things to torture your tiny little brains with!

*rolls eyes* Don't mind her. She switched her brain with a nine-year-old's again. Anyways, I hope this keeps you satisfied until our next update!1

Review!

Luv u guys!

Sayonara,

GoThYk SyA