Raya and Lana spun around to see numerous glowing, slit-pupiled yellow eyes of the ninja werepanthers fixed on them. The largest monstrosity waved friendly enough, but it's feline features were twisted into a mocking cat-grin.

The smallest of the werepanthers stood proudly at the right side of the biggest. She wouldn't have appeared intimidating were it not for the menacing sickle blade hanging from a long silver chain. It flashed a metallic glare of the moonlight as she grasped it tightly in her paws. At least fifteen other werepanthers flanked behind the main two, like the brave Scots following their mighty William Wallace.

"Shit. . ." Raya exclaimed, stunned as she studied them intensily - all wearing black ninja suits looking like night themselves.

Each werepanther brandished a various size and shape of weapon, the likes of which were even sharper than their claws. Fifteen against four...the outcome wasn't looking victorious for the werewolves and vampire tonight.

"Back again, fish-breath? Ready to scrap?" Lana, heated and unable to stop herself, taunted. hopping from foot to foot in an antsy dance, as if the ground burned her feet every time they made contact with the dirt.

"Of all the times-" Bruce began, but the little panther began fiercely swinging her barbaric sickle in wide circles above her head, mimicking a helicopter blade. Bruce swallowed his words and switched on the defense. He crouched as though he were a volleyball goalie, ready for action.

Raya's mind was working so fast it wasn't working at all. All of her thoughts jumbled, stumbling over themselves, which wasn't helpful at all. Bruce's hand wrapped around her arm, ready to guide her when the right moment came. The sickle swooshed around again and again, picking up speed while Raya thought of tactical strategies to fend off this many attackers. She felt as if she was in the eye of a nasty storm.

Lana's eyes were squinted, as though she were using all her might to will herself into the change. However, like Raya, she couldn't focus. It was middle school all over again when she was paired with her seventh grade crush and got a good ol' case of word constipation - could not utter a word to save her love life. Now, she was once again unable to perform.

The little werepanther let the sickle soar with cruel intentions; it came at them like a bullet, and its dangerous silver had the same objective: to end them. Without seconds to spare, Raya quickly hooked her hand around Lana's neck. As Bruce pulled Raya down Lana followed, both girls falling into an awkward, huddled crouch. The sickle swooshed over them.

Lana felt tiny cold droplets splatter her bare shoulder. When she looked up, the sickle blade was lodged in Ira's throat, blood squirted in violent streams.

"Nooooo!" the largest werepanther cried in a rough voice.

"Careful, if he gets it back, he won't miss again," Bruce muttered, eyeing his new found enemies.

Raya and Bruce gripped the chain. It burned their hands like all get out, but they yanked for all they were worth. Their skin literally began to smoke at the prolonged contact, causing their flesh to briefly fuse to the menacing metal.

The nemesis stood at attention awaiting their master's demand to attack.

In the meantime, Ira had thumped, lifeless - or...less undead, to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Lana stared with her mouth gaped open in complete and utter shock. Blank eyes stared up at her as she crouched beside him. In all honesty, he looked no different, being that he was already pale and sort of dead, except that he was unresponsive and had a metal object through half of his neck.

"Stupid, magical vampire! You're just going to die? Just like that?" Lana shouted, grasping his shoulders shaking him in dispair. When her efforts failed she smacked his cold face hard enough to sting her palm, he remained lifeless. "Come back! Please!" she pleaded. "Use your magic!"

"Lana, we could use some help here!" Raya cried. attempting to gain the attention of her distraught sister.

Seriously? Every damn time I start to like somebody... Lana thought, and she howled painfully.

With saddened tears in her eyes, for yet another fallen kind-of-a-boyfriend in the same damn week, she rose darkly.

Several werepanthers had joined the small one and were pulling the chain at the other end, dragging Raya, Bruce, and, once the slack had tightened, Ira's limp body. The big werepanther thundered laughter as he watched them struggle and burn.

Lana, madder than a wet hen, snatched the chain. Pain inflicted her soft skin instantly. It felt like she'd grabbed an iron skillet out of the oven, and it only infuriated her more. She let out a wild war-cry as she jerked. The panthers' eyes widened with surprise at her strength. Though tiny, Lana had made a significant difference. The tables had turned and the werepanthers were now skidding in their direction, to the fury of the panther leader.

The relentless silver burned intensely now, all of their hands felt on fire.

"Get ready to let go," Bruce grumbled, only loud enough for the girls to hear. "Now!" he commanded.

They released the chain at once. All of the werepanthers at the other end tumbled backward stumbling over one another . Without the weight of Raya, Bruce, and Lana, the sickle abruptly dislodged from Ira's neck with a disgusting sloppy slurp.

The lead werepanther let out a gut wrenching roar. It ran through Raya's nervous system, readying her for some serious shit.

"Stay together. Don't let them separate you," Bruce ordered. "Shift."

For a breif moment, Lana admired his leadership, his devotion to save them... or himself, she couldn't tell them apart and really didn't care at the present time. Raya, on the other hand, trusted her alpha completely, she was counting on him to get them through this.

At his word, they felt the curse consume them, answering their leader's command. Their bodies trembled from the inside out, morphing into their wolf forms in a we're-gonna-fuck-you-up way. Standing united, they salivated and snarled, ready to tear their enemies into shreds.

The smallest werepanther had regained footing and swung her sickle once more with fury. Tiny droplets of Ira's blood flew off and splattered here and there.

The other werepanthers brandished their weapons menacingly, and waited for an order from their leader.

Lana should have been waiting for her orders, but she'd never been the kind of were-girl that stood around waiting for someone to tell her what to do. The good, obedient Lana had died when Bruce changed her. Now she was stronger and one hundred percent non-tolerant. She charged the group of panthers with a wild rage.

Bruce growled angrily, following after her, Raya quickly on his heels. Lana had her target in eye sight, and hit the smallest panther with the force of a boulder. She clasped its throat, mangling it with satisfaction, chewing like a starved mad woman. Just as it had sliced Ira's neck with its sickle, Lana sliced the panther's throat. It wasn't enough. She decided to actually pulled things out of it - things that she tossed into the face of the next werepanther nearest her. She snatched the sickle and chopped that panther's arm off as he tried to wipe the gore out of his eyes.

Bruce never liked doing anything half-assed. He snatched the swords out of the hands of one panther, used one to sever its head, then went for the big guy.

Bruce took on the lead werepanther with the ferociousness of a father protecting his offspring. As they clashed swords, it was clear the lead panther's skill was stronger, but Bruce's strength was greater. All it took was a strategic opportunity, and Bruce caught it as the leader was caught off guard by Raya bumping into him from behind. Bruce sliced him straight up the middle. Cat guts splattered to the pavement, then the body joined them with a sickening flop.

Raya dodged and pounced, ducked and kicked herself through the crowd. She managed to collect a few blades herself, and she used them to swing in a deathly circle, catching many of the werepanthers and wounding them gravely. She jabbed the squirming cat-bastards in the heart while they groaned on the ground, feeling no mercy for a single one in her werewolf form. In fact, she eventually abandoned the swords to rip and tear into them instead, being more comfortable with her own natural weapons.

Lana, on the other hand, had become quite comfortable with the sickle and chain. Once she slipped on some stolen ninja gloves from a dead enemy, the silver stopped burning her. She was having fun twirling and slicing, feeling the blood of her enemy drench her fur so that it dripped crimson.

A few of the remaining Werepanthers tried to retreat, but Bruce caught one, snapping its neck, and threw a sword at the other, which imbedded deeply in its back.

When they were the only ones standing, Bruce shifted back to his human self. He'd sustained a few cuts, bumps, and bruises, but nothing major. Thankfully, he'd passed his strength on to his pups, because neither girl bore nothing worse than a minor scratch.

Raya studied him, felt her gut knot up as his muscles flexed while he pushed his blood-soaked hair out of his face. She morphed back and approached him, an assertive pep in her step, and wrapped herself around him, planting her lips hungrily on his. The blood mingled with the lust and increased her passion for him until she felt she would catch fire if he didn't put her out right there.

"Oh great," Lana huffed. "Just make out here, I'm cool with that. Sure. No problem. I'll just go hang out over here, beside my dead date-"

But when Lana spun around and looked at Ira, he was standing. He twisted his head this way and that, as though he were working out a mere kink in his unscathed neck.

"I hate it when that happens," he declared, as though he were merely commenting that he hated asparagus. When he noticed Lana glaring at him like he was a zombie or something, he added, "Takes more than that to get rid of someone as old as me."

Finally, Lana shook her head incredulously and said, "Bad. Ass."

Bruce finally put the brakes on, backing up from Raya abruptly. Her burning flame objected, but he pushed her back.

"I don't have sex with whores," he reminded her.

Raya could have sworn her heart thunked to the ground. She hated to be treated as or called a common whore, but most of all, she hated that Bruce didn't want her as bad as she wanted him.

But he does fucking want me, she thought. You don't kiss someone like that if you don't want them. She could still feel his lips searing into hers, and her fingers covered her mouth of their own will as she let the feeling soak in.

Bruce sauntered toward Ira, saying something about old farts and lame murder attempts, but then something odd happened.

The earth rumbled, as though a violent earthquake. Raya and Lana were knocked off of their feet; Bruce and Ira wobbled off balance, but remained standing. The ground split near Bruce, whom stood halfway between Raya and Lana with Ira. Just as he turned to sprint back toward Raya, something dark reached out of the earth and clutched his ankle. Bruce flailed to the ground, digging and clawing. More hands, some solid, some as shadows, stretched out and grasped him wherever they touched. One wrapped its clawed, scaled fingers around his leg, on his wrist, one his other ankle, and the largest, his waist.

"Raya!" he screamed. His eyes showed sheer terror, terror that swept into Raya as he reached for her with his free hand.

Raya dashed over as quickly as she was able, considering the ground around them all was still convulsing. Ira and Lana were blocked by the creepy hands on their side, not that they made much of an attempt to act anyway. Raya made it to Bruce as he was being dragged into the broken earth. The stray hands were retreating, Bruce disappearing with them. Down he sank as the ground closed around him. Soon, all that was visible were his wild, scared eyes and one arm. Raya screamed and pulled with both hands.

Finally, Lana was able to leap across, and was behind Raya, pulling her by the waist. Raya's front sunk lower and lower into the ground while she continued to clasp to Bruce's disappearing hand.

Then he was gone, ripped from her, and all she held was dirt. The earth had stopped shaking, and the ground had closed. Raya's arms were buried up to mid-biceps.

"Bruce! No! Bruce!" she sobbed.

"Damn, that's something you don't see every day. . ." Ira said.

Lana kept tugging at Raya, but she wouldn't budge.

"A little help here?" Lana shot at Ira.

"Right," he said, seeming to snap out of some odd trance.

Ira came over and Lana moved to give him space. He stood over Raya, one foot on either side, and wrapped his arms around her chest, just under her arms. With one hefty tug, Raya was freed. She scrambled out of his arms and went back to the ground where Bruce had vanished, digging into the ground with her claws.

"We have to get him out!" she yelled.

"He's gone, buttercup," Ira said.

"He's not, I can feel him!" she said, digging more furiously.

"Woman, did you not see the hands of hell reach up and claim him? We're you imagining he just fell? He's gone. They've taken him down with them, they haven't left him in the ground," Ira said.

Raya growled in frustration. She knew it was true. Bruce wasn't there. He was gone. She plopped back onto her bottom, leaning her head on her knees, her blood-caked hair hiding her face and most of her bare, dirty legs from view.

Lana and Ira stood awkwardly by.

"Raya, I'm sorry, but this is what we wanted. He can't tell us what to do anymore. He can't make us do things," Lana said. "Our problem is gone."

A few moments passed, then Raya raised her head to stare into Lana's eyes.

She said, "Somehow, I don't think so."

Thank you for reading Transition! Your support means a lot and we're glad you stuck with us until the end. Look for the second Supernatural Call Girls novel: Fusion!