Hi, everybody. This is just a quick one-shot about the time Derek got attacked by Tito the chihuahua. He told a brief story about it in the Awakening, but I figured I go into a little more detail. Fuuun Derek stuff :) No Chloe though, sorry.

You probably know this already, but I don't own anything derived from the Darkest Powers series. It all belongs to Kelley Armstrong.

"Little Tito"

"Hey, Derek," Simon called from the living room. He thrust a soccer ball in my face. "You wanna go to the park?"

I looked up from my homework to spare him a glare. I'd been working on this essay for a solid week, which was unusual for me. I was having trouble with this particular assignment because the instructions were to write a fictional story about something amazing that's happened to you. And, although Dad said I was allowed to, I couldn't bring myself to write about my "condition." I didn't want to push the limit in any way. Besides, how hard could it be? I excelled in anything logical, so how could this be any different?

But I quickly found that I had no imagination what-so-ever.

"C'mon, dude!" Simon pleaded, tossing the soccer ball in his hands, tempting me with it's black-and-white checkered surface. "Only for a couple hours. Then you can go back to your paper. I'll even help you with it."

"I'll take the break," I surrendered, putting down my pencil. "But you can keep the help."

"Whatever."

We informed Dad of our departure and gladly trekked a half-mile to the park, kicking the soccer ball along the way. We also tossed around some ideas for my paper, but none of them were very promising. I told myself that I would get some good ideas at the park.

I loved the park, though I would never admit it. The wide, open spaces of emerald green grass studded with sprawling oaks and maples, somehow harmonious with the thin ribbons of sidewalk and complex tangles of play ground equipment. Parents gossipped around picnic tables while watching their children run around in circles, and owners played fetch with their canine companions. It had a peaceful feeling that appealed to me. Simon seemed to sense that fact, so he suggested we come here often.

Soon we were relishing in a meager game of one-on-one soccer. Some other kids drifted in and out of the playing field, enticed by Simon's friendly aura and then most likely repelled by my cynical one. It's not like I tried to be cynical, but I didn't pretend to be something I wasn't either.

I kicked the ball to Simon gently. He scrambled to retort. I couldn't kick it with all my force, no matter how much I wanted to. I would probably end up bludgeoning Simon or busting the soccer ball entirely. When it came to sports in general, I could never really give my 100%.

There was some high-pitched yapping coming from across the park. It didn't bother me much. Dogs tended to react like that at first around me, but they never actually attacked. Nevertheless, Simon and I stayed downwind.

"Tito!" I heard a woman call. This was followed by shrill squeals from some kids digging a hole in the ground to see how deep they could go. Simon and I glanced over to see what all the commotion was about.

Only to see a two-pound fluff of fur charging towards us at speeds worthy of the Olympics.

"Wha - ?" I said, right before that same fuzzball bounded over the expance of space between us and took a bite out of my sneaker. It growled furiously and shook it's head from side to side, it's little needle teeth sinking into the leather of my shoe. I was a bit blindsided, but it wasn't a big deal. I tried to shake the little twerp off, but I swear this thing was possessed. It clung to my foot as if it's life depended on it.

Suddenly, it leapt three feet into the air (only contributing to my theory that it was possessed) and clamped it's mouth firmly on my hand. I yelped, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain that shot up my arm. And the worst part is, the thing didn't let go. It hung there on my hand like...I don't even know what to compare it to. It creeped me out.

"GET IT OFF!" I shouted, attempting to shake it off my hand. That only made the chihuahua angrier and the agony in my hand more pronounced. Blood was spurting everywhere, and it was starting to scare me. In the back of my mind I knew that it wasn't enough to kill me or anything, but I was still an eleven-year-old kid. That much blood was enough to frighten anyone.

"Don't worry, Derek, I'll help you!" Simon called, racing over. He attempted to grab the chihuahua, but my frantic waving wouldn't allow for that. And the more pain I was in, the more I waved. "Hold still, man! I can't get it off!"

"Don't touch my Tito!" a woman (the owner, I assumed) shrieked. She was heavily glorified, with platinum blonde hair and thick make up, adorned in ridiculous amounts of pink. She had a large purse slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing six-inch heels...at the park.

Of course.

I was still jerking my arms around like crazy, trying to get this thing unattached. For all I knew, it was sucking out my soul or something. The kids from earlier were screaming at full volume, evacuating the premises and fleeing to their parents. In my panic, I managed to walk straight into the hole they were digging. I fell backwards into a huge pile of dirt.

Tito the demented chihuahua gave my hand one last savage shake before making for my face, eyes reeling and mouth foaming. Luckily, Simon caught it before I could become maimed even further. It wiggled and snapped in his hands, but it didn't attempt to tear him limb-from-limb.

"Tito!" the lady said, relieved. She took the chihuahua in her arms and mushed him against her face like a baby. Tito was still agitated, but he consented to her coddling. After much smooching noises, the woman finally put Tito back where he belonged: in her big, plastic pink purse. Just when Simon and I thought we could, oh I don't know, go the E.R., the woman pounced on us. "You two need to be more careful when you play soccer! You're soccer ball got my Tito all excited and look what happened. He could have been hurt!"

"He could have been hurt?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, he could have." With her scolding complete, the woman turned her head away sharply and strutted down the sliver of sidewalk, taking Tito the chihuahua with her.

"Jeez," Simon said, shaking his head and helping me up. "We need to get you to an E.R. That's gonna need stitches."

Simon called Dad, who rushed over and drove us to the hospital. I needed five stitches.

But on the bright side, I got an A+ on my paper: Tito the Soul-Sucking Chihuahua.