Justin Beiber is a Werewolf

Each stands at the corner of an imaginary diamond in the forest clearing. Eying each other up; assessing their chances. Fate and bad scheduling caused each to step into the clearing at the same instant. None knew enough about the other's powers to risk retreat - attack was the only tactic to win this ratings war.

Damon Salvatore sneered inwardly. The square jawed youth - the witch - with ridiculous round glasses, he was certain he could he take - no match for a vampire so old and so fast. The baby-faced werewolf would be harder, but who was the cute badass blond? He sensed she posed a threat, but looked too frail to pack much of a punch - he would deal with her last.

Justin Beiber could feel the raw power of the vampire - a tough adversary, but he knew his pure clear voice could sing daylight into its soul: the last thing the vampire would see or hear. What spells could the wizard conjure up given time? Who then to take second, the Slayer or the wizard? The Slayer looked fast, and pretty - he bet she could sing. For her sake he tried to supress the animal urges tearing at his body. He tried to fill his mind with images from his latest hit video - maybe she could dance with him in the next one. Bones crunches within as his transformation accelerated, survival instinct took over and his mind filled with a bloodbath of fangs ripping at her pale flesh

Harry knew he could block either the vampire or the Beiberwolf with his patronus, but not both at once. He wished Hermione or Ron were here to help, but they were treading the red carpet someplace else. Even facing Snape would be preferable to the two animals of the night. He stared into their eyes, feeling their hunger, calculating who would attack first. He knew they would come for him, but in what order? The pretty blond, with the heart of courage (she would make a good Gryffindor) was a complete unknown. Maybe she was a Veela. He would have to watch her, but she seemed to pose no immediate threat. Perhaps they could be allies? Her stared intently into her face trying to convey his friendliness.

Buffy could taste the power of the vampire, but there was something else to: he desired her - a weakness she could maybe exploit. The werewolf's desire was plain, it was ugly and raw; she knew he would stop at nothing to satiate his lust for fame. She turned her head away from the wizards, he wouldn't stop staring into her eyes. She mustn't let him lest he see what she was hiding there. She had seen him glancing from the werewolf to the vampire and back again. Was he charming them into a joint attack on her? She could stake them both with silver and ash, but that would give the wizard time to cook up a charm on her. Was he trying to hypnotize her? She would have to take the wizard out first.

The werewolf flinched in pain as his transformation progresses and used the moment to launch himself at Harry. To his surprise the Slayer moved faster and Salvatore fond his way blocked by the girl.

Harry caught the vampire's movement from the corner of his eye. 'Expecto Patronum,' the white stag erupted like mist from Harry's wand, but the blond had somehow came between him and the vampire. His heart leaped with hope - they were fighting together. With his dilemma removed, Harry re-directed his patronus towards the werewolf. He watched the stag gallop away towards the completely transformed singer.

Suddenly, something connected with Harry's head and his glasses spun off his face. Everything turned blurred. He waved his wand, 'Accio Specs.' The glasses jumped back onto his nose just in time for him to get a clear view of the girl's foot racing towards his head. 'Stupef - ' A heavy blow snapped his head back; his wand flew out of reach; he passed out.

Salvatore ignored the girl attaching the wizard and used the wizard's patronus as cover to sneak up on the werewolf - he would figure out the girl's motives later. The wizard's patronus blinked out with his consciousness and Salvatore pounced. The first tones of a pure note filled his heart with agonising light as the wolf opened its mouth and howled, but his momentum carried him onwards. Blessed shadow returned to his heart the moment he ripped out the Beiberwolf's throat, silencing that beautiful, but agonising voice, for ever.

Now for the girl. He turned back. How had she snuck up behind him so fast? Her eyes smouldered with the desire burning in her heart. His defences dropped away as he recognised his own desire - maybe they could both walk away from this clearing: together. She came to him, draping one arm around his neck. Instinctively, he encircled her waist with his strong arms as she lifted her lips to his.

'Strange,' Damon thought. Instead of moist and luscious, her lips felt dry and scaly. Desire or hate? Of course: she was keeping one hand free. He pulled away too late.

He knew the instant she staked him. After all these centuries, caught by his own stupid desire. Salvatore crumbled into nothingness.

The Slayer's beauty dissolved almost as fast as the vampire's body. 'Poor boys,' she hissed, 'always suckers for a pretty damsel.' Her nose blurred to slits, her hair shrunk into her bald scalp and her frame stretched into that of a tall man. Lord Voldamort stretched, luxuriating in his new skin. He laughed, raspingly, at his victory. 'I'm back, Harry,' he screamed, 'I'm back.' Then he picked up the Slayers silver stake and turned towards Harry's prone body...