A/N: Okay, so I said this chapter would focus on one of the guys. But I'm not one to always stick to a specific plan. For those of you who are guys reading this, don't worry – it's not all about Melinda. But I've come up with an idea and it sort of kind of focuses on her and involve her (Oops, hope I didn't give anything away! – Evil grin -). Just bare with me, all right? So, yeah. Lol. Onto the thank you's!

Charmedluver, Ah, okay. Lol. I knew that. I've just never heard of it referred to simply as "person format."

ilovedrew88, Cute, aren't they? Lol. – Ignores the questions – Glad you like it!

wyatt333, -Ignores question. – Lots of people liker her closeness with Wyatt and Chris!

charmedchick4eva, Cute, huh? Lol.

sWeEt-AbBy, Who wouldn't go gaga for Orlando without a shirt on? Lol. You have good taste, for liking troy and liking my story (joke)! Lol.

Christine Marquez, how was this a filler? I'm way lost on that one. And yes, that is all you do. But hey, whatever floats your boat -

Matt91, Sorry to disappoint. But it'll get better and I hope you like this chapter, and the ones coming.

IMPORTANT NOTICE UPDATE! PLEASE READ! The final word is in: My laptop has come in at the computer store. I have to disconnect my computer tonight and my dad is taking it in tomorrow. I'll have my laptop up and working by Friday or Saturday and I'll post as soon as I can, promise!

So, enjoy and please review!

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After breakfast, Wyatt and Chris went to P3. An unknown band was coming to audition and, hopefully, get a gig for the following night. Melinda had wished them luck, since if they didn't get this band, they'd have no live entertainment for tomorrow; they'd never get anyone else on short notice. Though P3 had become so popular, that there was a slight chance they could get someone, but highly doubtful.

Melinda was supposed to be going to work. Elise, who had been the boss when Phoebe worked there and was, well, still the boss. And she was just as prissy if someone was late or didn't show now as she had been then. But Melinda didn't care. She was really tired, and had even changed into her pajamas (white tank top and black boxer shorts). It was mostly thanks to her column (Well, her mom had started it) that the Bay Mirror was so popular and she knew Elise would never fire her – Elise was bitchy, not stupid (Although sometimes Melinda wondered . . .)

And so she stayed home. It was quiet and kind of lonely, but Melinda sort of preferred it that way. She liked being alone. She, Wyatt, and Chris might get along well, but that didn't mean everything was smooth running. Guys were guys and she was constantly cleaning up after them. Plus they were loud and annoying and sometimes fought a lot.

Melinda sat on the couch and picked up the remote. She channel-surfed for a few minutes before she got up, intending to go into the kitchen. But the doorbell rang and she went to it instead. On the other side stood Scott.

"Scott!" Melinda cried, eyes wide with joy. "I thought you had to work," she said, closing the door when he'd walked inside. They kissed.

"You're supposed to be at work, too," he pointed out.

She shrugged. "Tired."

"I missed you," he replied, smiling.

"I missed you, too," Melinda said, smiling, then stifling a yawn.

"That tired? Didn't you sleep well at my place?" Scott teased.

Melinda shrugged. "It was okay," she said airily.

"Bologna," Scott sniffed.

Melinda burst out laughing.

"Why don't you go take a nap if you're tired?" Scott asked.

Melinda nodded. "But," she said, "Only if you come with."

Scott nodded and they went up to Melinda's room.

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Hours later, Melinda awoke to find that night had fallen. How had it possibly been that long since she'd gone to sleep? A glance at her clock, however, told her it was only one in the afternoon – and pitch black out?

Beside her, Scott slept soundly, his arm draped over her stomach.

Quietly and carefully, Melinda inched out from under Scott's arm and got out of the bed. She peaked outside – pitch black and ominous-looking, as if something bad were going to happen.

And a crash downstairs.

Melinda gasped. She glanced at Scott to make sure she was awake, then left the room and shut the door behind her. She tiptoed downstairs. Another crash, a slam, and a second slam to follow. Melinda crept down to the first floor. She saw nothing.

She moved to the light switch and flipped it, but the lights remained off. No electricity? She snuck into the kitchen and tried the phone – it didn't work.

A loud slam from the living room startled her and she tiptoed to it.

Someone was in there.

Melinda couldn't see very well because it was so dark, but she saw the shadowed figure of someone moving around.

"Hey," Melinda snapped fiercely.

The person spun around and extracted something long and shiny from his (or her?) pants leg.

Melinda frowned, unafraid. She was the most powerful being in the world, along side her brothers. She was like a god. A knife from a thief wasn't close to enough to kill or wound her.

Uhm, or so she thought.

The person grinned and revealed a mouth full of sharp, silver teeth. Seriously, sharp and silver.

Melinda stepped back, startled. Not scared, just startled. She sighed, though, after the shock had worn off.

"You messed with the wrong witch, dude," she said, and flung her hands out.

Only . . . nothing happened.

"What the f-udge," Melinda cried, startled even more than by the sharp, silver teeth. Her powers always worked – always. She was a god, for Pete's sake!

Mr. Silver Fangs – she could clearly see he was a man now - advanced on her. Melinda backed away until she realized that she wasn't going anyway. Nope, she was floating in the air. Floating! In the air!

Melinda's eyes widened as she was hurled backwards into the wall. She screamed shrilly as she hit and landed, sprawled out on the ground.

Mr. Silver Fangs seemed to be lifting her up without touching her and she went flying forward through the glass doors leading into the conservatory. Glass sprayed everywhere and Melinda could taste blood in her mouth and felt some trickling from her nose.

Before she could even try and fight back, she was in the air again and being thrown into – and through – the banister. Blood now oozed from a cut on her forehead.

She tried to stand, but tumbled down the steps and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Banged up, bloody, and beaten, Melinda dared not move. She had a feeling she had a few broken ribs and maybe a sprained ankle – and Mr. Fangs was advancing on her and now standing over her.

She tried to scream – though what good would it do? – when he stooped down and wrapped his hands around her throat. She gasped and struggled – but he was stronger than her. How was that even possible?

"Melly?" Came the call of a very loud, worried voice. Footsteps followed.

Mr. Fangs looked up and let go. He backed away and gave Melinda a, 'Next time,' kind of look. Then he was gone.

"Melinda!" Scott cried, nearly stumbling down the last few steps when he saw her. He flipped on the lights – they worked now? – and knelt beside her, eyes wide with horror.

"S-Scott-" Melinda coughed and wheezed. "G-get Wyatt and Chris. Call them a-at the club."

"I need to call an ambulance first!" Scott protested.

Melinda shook her head – big mistake. She had never gotten around to telling Scott what she and her brothers were. She had never had a reason. He'd find out now, that was for sure.

"No. G-get Wyatt and Chris – now! No ambulance. Please," Melinda begged.

And then she blacked out.