Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Track 01 - Seconds by Ghost Loft

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{Sunday: Dawn – Cliffsides, 10 minutes' drive from Martin's Lake House, South of Fairvale}

The expansive view seemed spectacular if not for the uncomfortable updraft. The light rain smudged the pink and blues of the dawn, it made dusky lines of the branches that scratched out the shape of mountains. Lydia no longer feared the Cliffsides, but she felt put off by them. Very put off.

"The Cliffsides aren't that beautiful," Lydia cut off Aiden, she knew she could explain why they drove out so far to the tourist view to not enjoy the sight. When they pulled into viewpoint, she kept distance from the lookout where there were seats and tables for picnicking, and she questioned Aiden on his opinion of the site.

The pretty boy knew there was more to the scenery than a visitors point-of-view, he cocked his head to the side and admired the girl a while before asking, "why come all this way Lydia? Even if it's beautiful, especially since you don't like it very much?" Although, he sorta did.

Instead of humoring him with an excuse, Lydia hugged him and asked if he would take a selfie with her. All smiles, they watched their steps while edging closer and closer to the lip of the cliff. It was hard to imagine she was ever scared to go there.

Back at the bike, editing the photo on her phone, Lydia said in a thoughtful small voice, "if something bad were to happen here, what do you think would be the point?"

"The point?" Aiden's brow arched. The question seemed pretty bleak for the 'party-girl', and he gave it pause before replying. "Are you threatening me?"

A perplexed grin flashed on Lydia's face, and she felt gutted they were having two different conversations. Lit by rising dawn, face flushed, hair mussed and wearing last night's party dress she seemed too tired to help him catch up. "Sure. Maybe I am threatening you. What if I were to knock you off this cliff, what then?"

Swagger unwavering, Aiden came to her side and wrapped his leather motorcycle jacket around her goosefleshed shoulders and looked down with a crooked, confident grin. "My brother would do something about it."

"No one knows we're up here."

"He'd know right away."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, we're connected like that."

After considering her party a magnet for a certain type of people, it wouldn't have surprised in the least. Since she spent the last few minutes editing the massive lens flare in his supernatural eyes, she didn't doubt him. Lydia simply accepted that she was beginning to develop a 'type'.

"Even this far away your brother, you'd just know it if something were to happen-"

"We'd feel it."

"Do the two you feel everything the other one feels?" Lydia slipped a hand up along his collar and she pulled him down for a kiss. After a long passionate display, Aiden broke away.

Clearing his throat, "not everything, no."

"Good to know," smirking, she said pertly. Lydia kept the jacket and climbed back onto his bike. This time Aiden took the driver's seat but not before she insisted on a few more proper photos. Lydia had an off-kilter pleasantness about her, so he denied her nothing.

When Lydia took the next picture, they straddled the bike to take more photos and the Cliffsides appeared in clear view behind them. They played and posed with ease, a wild breeze swept her hair straight up off of her neck, while his collar flipped up and one of her arms flung around his neck, it looked like she flew. She snapped his visor up, and Aiden's eyes squinted shut with laughter when they faced each other, they were divided only by the stained shape of red lips on the rim of the helmet where his mouth should have been. Lydia's photo reflected how light-hearted they felt in that moment.

She considered at their next stop, she would buy him sunglasses for sure. Then photos by the lake or maybe a brunch somewhere? When she showed him the pictures before posting, Aiden felt compelled to ask, "what about you? If something bad were to happen to you here-?" but he didn't finish the question because it felt like a weird statement, and she cast him a strange look.

Her light eyes went cold, her jaw tightened, and her lips pursed. Then she reined her upset in with a sharp breath as glanced back down at her phone. "My friends would figure it out," then after a pause added, "eventually."

When she smiled at him wryly, she kept his gaze until Aiden laughed along feeling drawn into her dark humor. Abruptly Lydia wanted to leave, "we shouldn't have gone off the path. It's not safe here."

Along the way, she urged him she'd feel better if they stopped for coffee. Aiden complained about the detour, immediately complaining it wouldn't be enough to keep him awake, there was a tiny smile on her face when she suggested cheekily, she knew what would.

In the coffee house washroom, they wedged the door closed with his jacket and used a countertop leverage. Lydia assured him a quickie would clear his head, but she what really hoped was it get her images of shadows and cliff sides out of her mind. And warm the morning chill out of her spine.

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Track 02 – Push Pull by Purity Ring

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{Midnight – Main Street, City Central, Beacon Hills}

By the time Isaac caught up with the tracks left by the stolen Camaro the police discovered it abandoned in at a construction site. Erica wouldn't have left anything traceable, it's not like the fingerprints of a long ago disappeared and recently dead girl were going to show up in any system. It didn't crush his expectations, he had more to go one then the officers.

Days earlier, Scott had been troubled but not forthcoming about getting jumped on the road. Who knows what difference it would have discussed talking about getting attacked in The Hills near Kira's house. He replayed that moment at party when he overheard Kira saying, "that's the girl who attacked me on the road."

"That's the girl."

"The girl."

That narrowed it down to what part of town. It wasn't causal walking distance but going home to the Stilinski's wasn't either. Well, Scott owed him one, so he'd have to forgive him for holding onto the bike a little longer. North to Beacon Garden Community and South to The Hills were equal distance, he found himself at a literal fork in the road. One place was insured safety, the other?

Yeah, if he took the other, he'd miss morning practice for sure.

{Postmidnight – The Hills, BH}

For rural up and coming area, it looked rather rural with quite a lot of empty abandoned 'Loops', 'Paths', 'Blvds.' and 'Lanes' before he found the right one. Two thirds up a mountain, at dawn and almost out of gas Isaac found Erica along the long road, wearing torn up skinny jeans and with a gas container beside her studded leather boots.

"Took you long enough," she grinned and handed over the canister easily. Like this happened every day. They didn't talk right away, just smiled softly toward each other as if this were causal; Erica waiting and watched him fondly while he filled up the tank, then she held the empty bottle while he walked the bike along off-road as she led the way.

After a long silence Isaac said quietly, "you didn't say I shouldn't have followed. That's what you're supposed to say." A guilty timbre in his tone, and she made a face of disapproval hearing it.

"Look, if that's what you want me to say, write me a script," she looked ahead instead, along the road that twisted before them.

He considered the scenario, what should they say and why it would matter... except when words really came to mind, one question remained. "Let's say I did, would I be making it out a speech to Reíka, or do I get to pretend Erica is still in there?"

Erica ran her tongue across her lower teeth and rolled her eyes, barely containing her annoyance, "I don't have a split personality, you jerk. You seem to have a lot of expectation for how our conversation is supposed to go, maybe I've got some question, too."

It went quiet again, from awkward to casual as Isaac just watched her profile as the sun crept up and made it something that changed from gold to realer than real. Erica looked back, determined to make a scrunched up face until he laughed. Instead, Isaac poked out his tongue and she laughed, then they both looked ahead.

"Alright, no script. I'll stop."

"Good. Because I'm sure glad you got your ass up here," she let out a breathe and shoved an arm through his. Neither mentioned Stiles because it was on him turn up. Just like it was likely Stiles had his own script to live up to, Erica had lots of expectations. "Because I think are lots of things we should talk about."

But when Erica said 'we' she hadn't meant them more something different than, Isaac or Stiles. She meant they should also speak to the man that waited calmly at the road's end, leaning on the wooden fence.

"And if I don't feel like talking to him?" Isaac frowned and Erica sneered mildly, a familiar uncomfortable smile.

"Then go." Her eyes lit gold, her gaze quickly annoyed and as she stepped away, "or stay." She took another small step further, her eyes on him with her fingers snagging along his arm as they withdrew. "And go later," she dragged out the 'r' in the word 'later' with a playful purr, she arched her brow and grinned when Isaac cracked a smile.

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Track 03 - Look At Where We Are by Hot Chip

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{Daytime – Martin's House, Aires East}

"Take it." Allison insisted and pressed her car keys into Scott's hands. "You've got to get home before your Mom finds out."

"It's not-"

"Honestly, Scott. It's either this or end up grounded forever," she laughed lightly. The concern Allison felt was genuine but dual-edged, but Scott he didn't need to know that. All bright eyed and sweet-faced, her concern for him surpassed worries about getting herself into trouble. Anyway, "Bennet and I will come up with something. I just… I just really want you to get home safe."

When Allison gave over the keys, they hesitated to let his hand go.

"Earlier tonight, you were kind of intense, it was awesome," Scott smiled timidly. "I'm grateful for your help with Kira and the other-" he gestured toward the pool where people still milled around.

"I'm glad you came to the party tonight," her grin lengthened, she pulled her hair behind her ears and thought on how to get across this was more difficult than she let on. How much help would be enough redeem her messed up her family? But being with Scott, just staying around his good nature always made her feel worthier. "You've never come to Lydia's parties before."

"Are they always this exciting?" Scott stepped closer, sincerely affected by shenanigans, kinda happy they were in it together. The crookedness of Scott's smile said as much and so Allison cut him off.

"I have no idea, Scott. I always skipped after game parties to stay home with you." Allison's reminder felt like cold water. When they were together things were different and there were bound to be more changes. They stepped apart. Rattling the keys in his hand, Scott nodded in thanks. She smiled again, not as bright as before, when she pushed him out of Lydia's front door.

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Track 04 - 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

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{Early-Morning – Martin's House, Aires East}

"Did you get rid of him?" Stiles loud whispered, tip-toeing into the kitchen.

Over the kitchen counter, Allison threw him a lopsided smile over her folded arms and barely nodded. A second later, he gave her head a tentative pat.

"You did good, kid." Stiles scraped the stool over and dropped down beside her. "Alright, so we've seen one kid home safely, have you heard from Lydia?"

"Not a word," Allison sighed.

"Have you tried texting at least?" Stiles' attempt at nonchalance but looked so tightly wound, he looked like he was trying not to fart.

For their peace of mind, Allison hopped off the stool and went to start the coffee maker.

"Did you try texting her?" she snapped over her shoulder and got silence in reply. Instead, Stiles shredded the edge of a paper towel. "Of course, you did. I just thought since you were back home, she might have felt differently," she let out a breath. Leaving the coffee maker to do its job, she went back beside him, and buried her head back into her arms.

"Well, you're her best-friend, wouldn't she answer your beckoning calls before she'd answer mine?" he chuckled and bumped shoulders with her.

Another scoff, muffled from beneath a pile of her hair and arm sleeves. "Lydia answers to no one's beckoning."

The combination noise of brewing coffee and the pool draining pump made the earth rattle. It made the place feel unstable. Stiles' looked around, trying to will the Martins' home to repair itself. When that didn't happen, he propped his chin up on his folded arms, a pose identical to Allison's. She looked over at him, her expression tired but grinning.

"We should start with the pool, you can get the DJ equipment out."

"Oh, right. And what will you be doing to help?" Stiles frown turned into an exaggerated pout.

"I'm going to run around the house, assess damage and collect garbage," Allison shifted around the dishes in front of them in search for two clean-ish coffee mugs.

"Why do you get the easy stuff?"

Her brow arched, it said he should know better than to ask. "Are you really going to complain about the heavy lifting?"

"No, but I was just wondering if you wanted company while doing the easy stuff-" when he couldn't weasel his way out of the harder chores he started at a whine, "because, Allison, hard stuff is hard! Even with super strength!"

She heaved a sigh, turned her back on him and went to serve them much needed cups of coffee before they addressed Lydia's train wreck of a house. Stiles thanked her profusely and scalded his tongue on the first sip, despite her warning that it was hot.

They drank the rest calmly, then Stiles had a chance to enjoy the flavor, "this is like blackberry-"

"Mmhm. Blackberry cobbler. Coffee has a high value here, so she likes to keep it interesting." Allison sighed as she finished her mug then shoved off her seat. "Enough delaying the inevitable."

"Don't you have a girl's code?" He hurried after her, while she ignored him and went to the living room to clean, "like a secret way to get a hold of her that no one else can?"

She hadn't expected him to follow, she looked puzzled and alarmed by the question. There hadn't been enough opportunity to think of not lying... or a witty half-truth. And it showed alllll over her face. Thankfully, Lydia's cloned phone was actually miles away with her quiver and long bow. Otherwise, she probably given away the game and glanced at it like a nervous newbie.

"You do," Stiles zipped down the little incline, tripping around the furniture.

"Stiles, I think we should let this one go," Allison avoided eye contact. "Ethan was right, she wasn't kidnapped, and she takes off from time to time. Maybe she just needed a break. I told you before, she isn't like us." With that she took a deep breath, it stopped to face him. It upset her to think strong-willed Lydia would get backed into a corner and need to be spoken up for. "Try to remember, Lydia wasn't raised around all this weirdness. She's trying to put on a brave face, but she's needs to take it at her own pace."

"Isn't that why she had the party," Stiles stepped forward, eyes big with speculation. "To surround herself with all this 'weirdness'? Like, like some sort of supernatural immersion therapy?"

"That's not it at all. She wanted a break- it backfired, like all of our plans do."

"Then shouldn't we try to find her," it was almost a demand, sounding more unhinged by the moment. "She just disappeared and didn't tell anyone- and with one of them!"

"What?" she scoffed, then a look of pity spread across her face. Her shoulders dropped, when she pointed out what Stiles wouldn't see. "A Werewolf? Someone she just ran into tonight? That's a bit hypocritical coming from you."

"We can't trust them," he gestured adamantly toward the pool. Stiles face read hysterical while his voice got smaller. "You saw how they were."

"I did, and I came to a different conclusion," Allison patted his arm, moved around him and went on to sort out the main room.

After gripping the air and silently screaming, Stiles followed, occasionally but not really helped. Allison put down paper towels to soak up spills and righted fallen portraits onto the mantel, righted the chairs, put bottles into a trash bag she dragged with her along with any broken glass she found along the way.

Eventually Allison explained, without looking in Stiles' direction. "They were right, Isaac attacked them first in the woods behind the school. Danny's been dating Ethan for a while and invited them to the party. And we jumped him for it. We could have hurt a lot of people because we were acting without thinking... I think maybe we should wait, see how this thing with Aiden plays out."

"What if he hurts Lydia?" Stiles stopped, blocking her path with his hands on his hips like an angry parent.

"What if he makes her happy?" Lifting her head, Allison stood up straight slowly just to test his patience.

"You're joking," he smirked, and then when he saw she didn't grin, he bristled with outrage. "Don't you think it's a bit convenient? What were the chances of him even meeting her in a party this big?"

"Pretty good," she shrugged, bit her lip as she considered whether or not to share her next words. "Danny was the one who set them up on a date."

Stiles arms drop, his back stiffened. "How did you figure that out?

"He told me when I checked to see if he got home safe. See what happens when you ask questions?"

"You think you're real smart, huh?" he scoffed. Allison chewed her lips as Stiles continued to talk, expecting the worst. "What about what Ethan said to you? Scott told me it was more Hunter drama." A no-nonsense tone seeped through his words. He hadn't meant to bring this up with her before talking it out with the guys, but... "Erica wouldn't be hiding in with that bastard Deucalion if it weren't for this war. Is it true, did the Hunters instigate this war?"

With a sigh, Allison lightly shook her head before speaking again as if she were disappointed not with him, with life overall.

"Maybe. My family is always up to something, but I don't always know what." She frowned to think about it. How many weeks ago did Axel plan to form tunnels under the Lodge, with the intention to make torture chambers? Stiles was probably the only person as desperate to figure out her family's secrets as she was. That didn't mean she had access to truths to hand over. Half-truths would have to do.

"When we were all at the Hale House," Stiles paced and kicked plastic cups underfoot. He remembered back with as much precision his drugged memory would let him. The memories came in flashes but always hazy. "There was a sign for revenge painted on the door. But the place was sealed off, did a Hunter put that there?"

Looking thoughtful, she reached up and tucked stray hair behind her ears, the garbage bag fell ignored to the floor beside her. "I don't know. Everything was hazy, I hardly remember that night."

Meeting her eyes, Stiles gave her a hard stare and Allison struggled to hold it. "The Hale House was another staged murder scene with a corpse to be found by a Werewolf, but the trap was set off too early. Again."

"Just like when Lydia found Derek's body too early." Allison was the first to break the stare, as her thoughts raced. "Remember, she found it before the mutilator had a chance to pose it."

"Did a Hunter do that, too?" Stiles took a step and leaned close.

"Stiles, I've got no clue." Allison's voice flared, sharp but controlled. "I didn't know Hale House existed, how could I connect it to the body?"

"You said so!" excitedly he flapped his hands like he beat an invisible drum, "in that room of yours! Before you said a Hunter or a druid or an-an emery-"

"An emissary," Allison recalled the words, "anyone who's read a bestiary, or a grimoire could have set that up. But you think it's all the same person? That this is their method? Mask a murder behind a Monster attack and dispose a body to aggravate the war, and conceal it with alchemy until the right time a Werewolf can stumble on it? What's their motive?"

"How 'bout breaking a treaty?" Stiles eyebrow rose in increments with each punctuated syllable.

Allison processed the information, gnawing on her thumbnail. "So, the one who setup the Hale House probably put up the same blockade in the woods by your fort, at likely they might have been the one who cut Derek in half?"

"Maybe? Probably?" Stiles nervously balled up his right hand and punched it into the palm of his left, punctuating his words, like he didn't want to be right, "But they knew the place too well. It's all aimed at the Hales, it's like they know everything about them."

"Like an expert." Allison mouth went dry, while she felt like she could vomit. Thankfully she didn't eat at the party, so her stomach was empty.

Stiles didn't reply, instead he froze up and lifted a hand for Allison to stand still. He sensed someone coming.

"Well, luckily the experts are due any minute," Natalie said walking in from the front hall, "why don't you leave the cleaning for them. What are you kids still doing here anyway?" Despite her obvious tiredness from travel, she looked pleased to be home as she put the pet carrier down in one hand, her shoes and purse in the other. "Is that coffee I smell?"

Stiles and Allison looked to one another in horror, then to the tornado-blasted room around them. Then to the tapping paws the Pomeranian leading towards the kitchen where Mrs. Martin started to make cooing noises over a pot of coffee.

"Who would like home-cooked hangover breakfasts?"

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"The only hiccup has been-" Stiles whispered in a rasp.

"I know. Lydia." Allison nodded, talking low while leaning on the palm of her hand. "She found Derek before the culprit finished staging the scene. Breaking all the seals and opening the boundaries in the woods before accidentally setting of the trap. She's good at finding things."

"Too good. I guess that's part of the Banshee package, hopefully with less explosions in the future."

"Or collapsing and drowning. Don't you think we should go get her now?"

"Get what?" Mrs. Martin turned back toward them, she placed more silver dollar pancakes onto a platter between the three of them.

The mess of a counter and lack of clean dishes left them sharing a breakfast meal on one large serving platter between the three of them. Mrs. Martin delivered silver dollar pancakes, strips of bacon and lightly scrambled eggs with bell peppers, onions and fried tomatoes. It kept her busy and just outside of hearing distance while the smell kept them hypnotized in their seats.

"We're just worried about Lydia. Aren't you?" Allison said to Mrs. Martin through a mouthful.

"No, why? Did she say something was wrong?" Mrs. Martin pulled up a stool beside them and started poke critically at the food.

"No, it's just-" Allison gulped harshly and looked to Stiles for help, he looked away and sipped very slowly at his cup of coffee. "I mean, if my Mother came home and found our home turned into a wasteland after I had a party-"

"Let's be clear; this was Danny's party," Mrs. Martin said strictly, followed by nibbling at a forkful of egg. She gave it a critical nod of approval and before continuing, "And anyway, Lydia called the cleaning service first thing this morning, then call me right after so I could get here to let them in. It's why I'm shocked to find you kids still here." She glanced up while chewing to see the two teens staring gobsmacked to hear the update.

"So, wait," Stiles replied, still eagerly chomping away, "she called you? You talked to her? Like on the phone?"

"Yes. Well, texted." Mrs. Martin sniffed moodily and dug her phone out of her purse. "She's in a funk," she explained and placed her iPhone on the countertop between them. On the screen she tapped open her Instagram app, scrolled through floral displays, fashion images, and vaguely familiar strangers living their best life. Finally, there appeared the picture of the two looking cool with their shades and their smiles sunning off on a dock by the docks near a lake; Lydia twisted to keep hold of the phone for the photo while keeping her arms wrapped around Aiden. "But she looks alright, see," Mrs. Martin proved her point and while they stared down at the evidence.

The caption read, "No Sleep Till Beacon!"

Stiles tsked before he could stop himself. The guy looked like a tool. Allison smirked at Stiles' inability to curb his territorial impulse. He hadn't even met Aiden and she had no doubt Stiles would have puffed out his chest, snarled and breathed smoke just to make a point of it.

"She's at the Lake House." Mrs. Martin answered a question they hadn't thought to ask yet. She cradled her coffee mug with both hands. Nestled back onto her seat, and she looked uncomfortable at mentioning that place.

Sitting back, Stiles looked to Allison in concern then went back to lancing his bacon and gnawing it in loud chomps. Allison handed Mrs. back her phone and waited for further explanation.

"She said she needed to clear her head, so she drove out there with her friend Aiden late last night. Of course, her Dad's fine with that, who am I to say 'no'?" She rolled her eyes and shoved the iPhone aside. In her bad mood, she looked like Lydia, pretty and a little petty.

"So, that's near her Dad's Lake House?" Allison leaned further and said softer.

"Yes, Allison. The Lake House her Dad owns. You need more coffee?"

Shaking her head, no, Allison sounded apologetic for pushing the subject, "I just, I'm surprised that's all. I had the impression that she didn't like it out there very much."

"Nah," Stiles said instinctively. "But I thought Lydia loves that Lake... loved... past tense? What the hell man?" He turned from feeling confident to concerned to agitated quickly. He was getting tired of feeling like a comatose patient, waking up a hundred years too late to relate to his friends. That familiar sympathetic look Mrs. Martin gave him made him feel pathetic. "I think I need a nap until all of this, whatever this is, is over." He downed his coffee to shut up.

Trying to break tension, Mrs. Martin stood and started to dial Lydia's number. To their surprise, Lydia picked up at once, but they only heard one side of the conversation.

"If you're that worried, I could call- Hey, just checking in. Your friends are- oh, right. Well, by tonight then. Love you, too. Well. That explains some things."

"What things?" Allison perked up, trying to sound hopeful but coming just shy of it.

"She said to tell you her phone is dying, and she'll get back to you." Mrs. Martin looked back toward them with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Her phone isn't dying, is it?" Stiles voice sounded leaden. He was already on his feet.

"That's the same line she tells me to tell her Dad whenever he calls." She shoved her iPhone back into her purse, she went onto collect the platter of food and started to clear. "I'm not sure what you kids got up to last night, and I'm not going to grill you, but if you're sticking around out of misplaced guilt, then the two of you should probably go."

"Mrs. Martin... I'm really sorry." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uneasy that he couldn't come up with something smart to say to fix this, so he turned and rushed to leave the Martin's home.

"That's not it-" Allison began to explain, she wanted to argue. In part, Allison was certain she could, not just because she was a fighter and knew she was in the right, but between the two of them Stiles was the one that Allison could better help. Not to mention, "-he's my ride." She raced around the room to grab her jacket from the back of another chair and her purse from the counter. "Bye." Each time Allison made eye contact with Mrs. Martin she hoped she could show how much remorse she felt for leaving things how they were, but without Stiles beside her it felt like a worthless endeavor. "I had a lovely time."

By the time Allison climbed into Stiles' Jeep, he had the engine warming and a thousand-yard stare out over the lawn. She slammed the door closed, buckled herself in and said nothing. They didn't mention conspiracies of Alphas, missing Betas, Kitsunes or Banshees on the run. Instead, they stewed in the guilt of being troublemaking kids who took advantage of a nice person. Before he took it out of park, they shared a look and knew they were on the same page.

"We messed up," she said in a voice so small, only he could have heard it over the engine. He rolled his eyes, 'obviously'.

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Track 05 - Reptilia by The Strokes

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{Early-Morning – Deucalion's House, The Hills}

With a warm voice and sleek tones charmed Isaac as intensely as Deucalion intimidated him. He'd appeared out of nowhere and seemed just as likely to vanish that way as well. Isaac especially didn't like people that put on magic shows when they weren't magic, not when he was trying to have a serious conversation. He didn't have the attention span for that.

"We don't ask anything of one another, just loyalty," Deucalion finished some speech that Isaac didn't follow. He kept glancing to Erica for a sign. Any sign at all, for what to make of this guy's elevator pitch.

"To the pack?" Isaac felt a little disloyal just talking about it. Sensing that Erica squeezed Isaac's arm lightly to remind that she still stood beside him, even if she would be going home with the other guy.

"If that's what you feel," Deucalion answered, coolly. "Or to a code. Or a person. Loyalty is the only thing to hold onto when we are alone, and our metal is tested. Isn't that right, Reíka?"

Erica nodded, her demeanor darkened significantly, and she looked to the ground. "Yeah, Deucalion."

"This is a cult," Isaac blurted. His eyes flicked over to Erica's new Alpha, like with the quickness of a switchblade, "you changed her name, kidnapped her, brainwashed her and probably tortur-!"

Erica busted out laughing while Deucalion stared on in surprise. She covered her mouth to keep her laughter from breaking the sound barrier for all of its guffaws. Isaac to looked infuriated, even Deucalion gave her a concerned and a hint to maybe rein it in.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she hopped up onto to sit on the fence and just to look down over him. "If I could sum up my experience here, I'd say, definitely transformative. But brainwash, no."

"Isaac, we steer away kidnapping people if we can, but we don't turn away people in need, either." The hand on Isaac's shoulder surprised him and made him shudder but he didn't shove it off either.

"What happened at Northbridge changed me," Erica narrowed her eyes, wondering if Isaac understood. Isaac may have been there on the road with her, but it seemed that maybe he wasn't THERE with her. "Can't go back. Can't be that girl anymore. So, I changed my name, no one made me."

"Reíka was brought to us in great need and then chose to stay," said Deucalion, he stepped toward Erica, rather towards Reíka and she smiled at the gesture. "Like any refugee during this turbulent times-"

"He means like Omegas. Like us," Erica kicked at the lower rung of the fence, her annoyance and amusement in harmony. "You don't have to be so wordy."

Deucalion looked toward Erica, his lips curled at the edges in a way that broke character from his cool demeanor, and he looked back to Isaac, "that is to say if a person crosses our path, and they're an asset and loyal they're welcome to stay. I'm sure you know there is safety in numbers. When was the last time you felt safe in Beacon Hills, Isaac?"

While considering the question, Isaac looked back towards town. Her foot tapping and kicking at the air was a familiar yet foreign habit that seemed like something his pack member Erica would do. Isaac didn't know if it was in the script for Reíka to do, to try to convince him all of this was normal. The thought irritated him while Deucalion kept up the hard sell.

"How does you changing your name prove you're loyal?" Isaac finally asked, after Deucalion headed back to the house and left them alone to talk.

Her kilowatt smile melted his brain and while Erica's hands felt soft their grip was rough, as she pulled up Isaac's collar and closed his cardigan.

Erica leaned over and whispered to him, "Because, Isaac, I'm loyal to #1." And she pointed to herself.

Somehow that did not surprise Isaac.

"So, when do you wanna come up and see the house?" After hopping down onto the other side of the fence, Erica yanked him a towards her. "Because there's someone in the basement, I think it's about time for you to see."

"Something tells me I'm not ready for that," Isaac caught her hands at the wrists just as she let go, he held them tight, tight enough that she couldn't squirm or wriggle her usual way out of it. Erica gasped and chuckled at the sudden forcefulness of it.

"Oh, you're not." She frowned deeply, part for play and partly sincere. "But for this, you're never going to be. So, I can show you, or you can try to storm the castle later and get ripped to shreds by a half-dozen Werewolves, a lot stronger than you." He had spent half of Deucalion's hard sell, wondering if he could take the guy down with Erica's help. It was a pleasant daydream.

Isaac released his hold, left Scott's bike leaning and climbed over the fence to follow her path. The tone felt like a dead man walking and not the early morning stroll through a meadow it visually was. They fell into stride with each other the way they always had and when they made it to the idyllic family home, two people met them on the porch.

Meyers, Isaac already recognized from his brief guest spot on the Camaro, the other was a taciturn curly-haired woman with prominent scars on her collar. When Meyers moved to block their path, the woman put a hand on his shoulder and made him stand down. Erica just waved 'hello' with false cheer and marched along with Isaac in tow.

The luxury of their home wasn't lost to him, just like the sparseness of its furnishings. From their time living on the Res. (and how the rotation of Hale cousins kept their spaces), Isaac knew the look of people unwilling to set roots. Erica walked an easy line through the wide kitchen, around the bend and underneath the stairs to yank open a door painted bright yellow. By contrast, the other side might as well have been a dungeon.

Unexpected smells assaulted him, the place reeked of cleansers. Mattresses were mounted on the walls to dampen sounds and wires hung from the beams overhead and were stretched and refastened several times over; it wasn't Argent level design, but this was meant to be some sort of secret chamber.

The door behind them slammed and locked closed. The woman from the porch stood guard with her hand on a heavy duty door jammer. Erica grabbed Isaac's arm as he tensed enough to growl, and she pinned it at his side to warn him not to run or fight.

"A little further," she urged. "Jonsen isn't trying to trap you in. She's here to keep them from getting out."

At the mention direction, Isaac noticed flickering and heard hissing sounds. Both curiosity and Erica's pushing got his feet moving forward. Surely, he could trust that with Erica's help, they would make it back to Stiles, then together figure a real escape from this 'Looney Tunes' town.

Upon reaching the bottom steps, two figures could be seen by the far wall. A man and woman bound to separate chairs, strapped from wrist to bicep along the armrest, and from ankle to knees with legs pushed apart. Their skin and hair looked fair in complexion, caked with dirt and matted blood. The straps were of undiscernible but obviously unbreakable metals. Their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat but they seemed to be resting easily.

"Erica?" Isaac eyed her from the corner of his eye, unwillingly to turn entirely away from the scene. "What is this? You trying to show me your pack is better because you're capturing another pack's Betas just to—"

"Wrong, not another pack," Jonsen explained, her accented-voice small and emotionless. "They were definitely from this pack. That's Deucalion's son."

Isaac had almost forgotten she stayed with them. He twisted around to look at her, leaned towards Erica as he did. Her grip tightened due to nervousness and part of Isaac understood. She didn't want him to run but that didn't mean she'd have his back either. What could have happened to Erica to let this happen underfoot, live rationally and swear loyalty to no one but herself?

Erica cleared her throat and pulled him further into the room. "Meet Jonny and his partner, Lennie. These two are deserters. When a Monster started killing their people, these cowards hid. Then after this wild fight in The Ponds that started a war between the packs they crawled back and asked favors from Deucalion, as if he owed them anything. After losing numbers in battle, they thought if they could offer him a hostage, someone half-dead Omega he could question and maybe even torture, that it would buy them goodwill." Her voice dripped with disdain and Isaac began little-by-little to get what Deucalion meant; disloyalty was dangerous, but loyalty felt fiercely could be just as dangerous.

"He has a thing for strays," Jonsen said low, from what felt like a million miles away.

"That half-dead stray they pulled out of the gutter, well," Erica tsked with false ease, her bitterness screwed up her face, "that was me. Turns out the price for their disloyalty, and I get to choose what to do with them."

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Track 06 – Goes Black by Big Ups

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{Morning – BHHS, Lacrosse Field, Locker Room}

It seemed utterly unfair, there was no repercussions for the rest of them. Co-Captain McCall didn't show up and gave no notice. Lahey had been given warning for acting out and getting aggressive towards Māhealani, but did he show up for any extra suicide drills? Not a one. The new girl, Helisek's darling addition that already got play privileges ahead of him, Yukimura also didn't turn up. It wasn't like she didn't need to learn the plays.

Liam understood he was a freshman, but he had more promise to offer, and it killed him that they kept underestimating him. Meanwhile, he skipped out on parties, and was the one that turned up for each practiced! He was never late for a scrimmage, and he never argued with the Coach no matter how much he got yelled while just sitting on the sideline. How utterly, and completely unfair it was.

It killed him. Absolutely killed him.

"What else can if do?!" he threw his helmet to the ground, it ricocheted against the locker, bounced off the bench, and hit the wall. "What am I going to have to do to prove myself!?" Sweat poured off every inch of him, the Coaches made him and the teammates that showed up for practice pay extra for turning up when the 'good' members of the team bailed on practiced.

"What the hell is the point?!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Jackson slammed him against the wall. He wasn't even angry; he was annoyed and simply stronger than the smaller player. "You're lucky to even be on the team."

Liam couldn't argue that point, he glared at the floor.

Danny pulled gently at Jackson's arm, he said something that Liam couldn't hear, and Jackson huffed and turned away. He dropped his hold on Liam's collar and he nearly fell to the floor.

They went back to their business as if he didn't matter, because he didn't matter and he said as much, "I'm trying my best."

"Is that what you call it," he stripped off his top and rolled his shoulders, he looked like a giant to Liam's eyes. He looked like an Adonis and Liam understood there was nothing, nothing he could do that would sculpt him like that.

"Tell me," he gazed up at him from the floor, eyes pleading like he'd never done before. He asked Jackson for something he could put into words.

As players filtered slowly towards the showers Jackson stared down at him, eyes cold and pitying. His face didn't soften but his expression changed briefly in a way that seemed intimate and trapped him in its hold.

"If I told you what you can really do make you stronger, do you really think you're up for it?" his jaw tightened, and his eyes for the slightest moment seemed no longer gunmetal blue but slit and shimmering green.

When he neared Liam, the younger teen stood tall and pressed his back against the lockers, and held his lacrosse stick defensively firm in hand, "I can do it? I can do anything. I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are," Jackson smirked and stepped closer, "you're afraid of your own power. You're afraid of crossing a line, but you don't have to be." He slammed a hand beside the side of Liam's head, leaned closer so that he spoke quietly and their eyeline was unbreakable.

"What do you want me to do?"

He cocked his head to the side, considered something inexpressible and stepped away. "Nah, you're just a kid. You've got nothing to offer."

"I'll give it my everything!" Liam pushed off the lockers, grabbed Jackson's arm until the growl scared him off. "I'll do anything!"

"Time to rebuild," he arched his neck, looking over at him as he walked away. "If you can’t move forward, it’s better to start over."

"What the hell does that mean?" he wondered aloud, left alone in the locker room. He sat on the bench pouting with the advice given. Whittemore was as strong a Co-Captain as McCall, he was as strong if not stronger in a different wilder way. The advice seemed random but was all he had to work with. He just needed to understand what it meant to, the team worked out together mostly, so what was the definitive start?

"Coach!" he called out for Finstock as he left the office and walked towards staff parking, "Coach, please can I get a second!"

"I'm off the clock, kid! I appreciate the dedication, but you see I lead a double life, one where a guy named Coach tortures a bunch of candy-assed losers into finely tuned champions, and another man named Bobby that makes it to the 2 for 1 mimosa Sunday brunch special at Tony's. God help you if you crush Bobby's dreams, then you'd only have room for Coach all week long. I don't think you're up for that, do you think you're up for that?" he then stopped walking and glowered at Liam, a dark cloud surrounded him. "Do you want the team to deal with that guy all week?"

Liam shook his head, rapidly.

"Alright then," spinning on his heel, Bobby Finstock, marched towards his car.

Sighing deeply, Liam stood in the middle of the hall looking after him, saddened that the last chance vanished into the Vodka Sunrise.

"You can meet up with the University students," Helisek suggested from behind him. Liam jumped and spun around to face him. He'd forgotten about the assistant Coach. He still wore his pull over and sweats, unlike Finstock he was still on the clock and was headed towards the track. "It's pretty straight forward, but my Track Team continue endurance training with BHU team, on and around their campus. You can join us if you think you can catch up."

Nodding, Liam grinned and hurried to get ready. He wasn't interested in running track, but it was a new direction, and he was interested in new. Rebuilding himself. This was simply running in line for a few hours on different paths, keeping up with a pack of other, he could do that. Surely.

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Track 07 – Direction by Hugh

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{Midday – Yukimura's House, The Hills}

Seemingly ready to be onboard for one spirited scheme after another, Allison asked for Stiles to make a detour. Head to The Hills rather than Westwood, drop her off the Yukimura's rather than drop her off at the Argent main house. A quick text from Kira brought her speeding along, not in emergency but hurriedly. Stiles offered to stick around to offer moral support, but she felt like this was a more Hunter duty. A skilled investigatory touch. More carrot and less stick approach.

"That metaphor does imply reward and punishment," Stiles pulled up to the Yukimura's grand and graveled entry, it loomed dauntingly. "Does this mean interrogation is on the horizon?"

"Not the way you'd think," she tugged her knit hat over her ears, readjusting for thoughts and actions. She rang the Yukimura's doorbell with as much confidence a sleepless Hunter, after a night of partying and fighting an Alpha would had. Stiles should head home and rest up for when he would be needed, not that he would because he went to Scott's house for lunch instead.

When Kira's Mom opened the door, Allison's yawned so wide she might as well have been at a dentist's office. Although Kira purposefully hadn't given her parents notice, they seemed to expect Allison's arrival. After having Victoria's Team evacuate the Yukimura's from the hospital their friendliness was likely.

She'd barely freshened up after the party, wearing puppy slippers and yoga pants, all-smiles and joyfulness, Kira dragged Allison around and gave her the 'fifty-cent tour' around the entire grounds before declaring loudly, "and now my room!" before disappearing into her inner sanctum and locking her parents away.

After turning on loud music, Kira dropped onto the foot of the bed while Allison tore off her hat, coat and dropped her purse onto the bed beside her.

"What's going on? Why did you reach out?" a deepened wrinkle in her brow worried on.

"I needed to tell you about- these things I've been seeing," Kira sounded quietly confused.

"Dreams? That's not uncommon."

"But I'm not asleep when they're happening," Kira gripped the edge of the mattress as if she would fall off. "They're not exactly the craziest things but they're not normal."

"Okay," Allison slowly lowered herself on the mattress beside Kira, "tell me about them. Let me sort it out."

"First, there's something like Lydia- t-then I keep seeing Jackson and now, I saw a Coyote with him." Kira struggled to get the words out, it wasn't enough for Allison to go on.

"Are these things that you're supposed to keep secret? Is that why you feel bad?"

Kira thought about it and then shook her head.

"Are they just confusing?"

Kira nodded profusely.

"Alright." Allison tapped her finger on her kneecap and looked around the room for something that might help her get Kira's words out. "Sometimes legacies have cyphers. Does your family keep any vintage books? You mentioned old folk's tales about the Kitsune?"

Kira nodded again and Allison stared at her blankly for a moment, "okay, could you maybe get it-" and then Kira jumped into action. Alone in Kira's bedroom Allison took the time to reevaluate what she was doing and the finer points of why she came alone.

Processing facts through her tired mind, she focused solely on the discoveries that were Kira centric, abandoning the drama of the others no matter how they triggered her. Pulling her feet up underneath her, Allison thought maybe it was about time she drew up an NDA for all the secrets her friends seemed to be trading. It surprised her when Kira dropped down on the bed besides her prattling on about this or that thing, when her parents said that deflection.

Allison combed through the book, it definitely felt ancient and personalized. She flipped back and forth through the pages until she found something that looked familiar. The shape of women wailing and collapsing onto themselves, oozing up from the earth along the roots of ancient trees, among the limbs of the dead.

"Here," Allison settled on the page and wished it looked a little less horrifying, although to be fair the bestiary didn't have a flattering representation either. "This is a Banshee."

The expression on Kira's face said more than her words could. She touched the border of the cover like touching the page might burn her. The image clearly reminded Kira of the shadowy shape of how Lydia glided through the trees of the Yukimuras' backyard in the freezing silver rain while lightning shattered the air.

"Lydia is... this." Her mouthed stayed open while she tore her eyes away. It wasn't a question at all. Allison nodded and gave her a pitiable look. "She looked like this, just like this when I first saw her on New Year's Eve."

Worry consumed Allison, a patchwork warped together till it nearly choked her, so she gulped hard. "You saw her over the Christmas break?"

Kira nodded.

"Okay, let me think for a second," Allison kept a hand at her mouth, while her mind raced. Then she looked from the page back to Kira's face, "you saw her like this? Where? What happened?"

"Here," Kira slid the book off of her lap onto the bed beside the both of them, "she broke into the backyard." Jabbing a finger toward her bedroom window, she showed where and Allison stared like she could imagine it happening. "I went out to see who she was. To see if I could help her. She looked... she didn't look like herself at all. But she just told me to 'run'."

"Run?" Allison stood and went to the window, she had her hands on the glass and while measuring the high trees and steep walls with her eyes. "That's all she said."

"That's it. She told me I need to run, then she went back in between the trees, and I couldn't find her," Kira's voice grew quicker and more demanding. "You get how that's nuts, right?"

Allison nodded, then she slowly smiled and turned back around, "you're not nuts. Believe it or not, things are beginning to make sense."

"Are they?" Kira pleaded but she sounded like a child excited over a new toy. "Can you tell me when they begin to explain why seeing Jackson glowing is totally normal, too?"

"Seeing auras isn't uncommon," Allison pressed her lips, trying not to laugh at Kira's comically pained expression. "When you left the party last night you were practically sparking. It's not surprising your other instincts are kicking in more rapidly. The Kitsune is part of your ancestral blood. You were born for this, it's like muscle memory."

"So, that its. There's no going back." Kira moaned, and with one hand she reached for her head as if it would topple over, "I'm just going to keep going until I eventually burst into flames."

At that, Allison did laugh and came to sit beside Kira, while looking around she saw the baton on the bedside table. She tilted her head toward it, and Kira followed the line, "you're a natural talent. You know how to fight without even trying and you know how to run. That's why you're on the both track and lacrosse team, right?"

With both hands onto her knees clenched tight, she remembered that feeling. Grinning, she nodded back.

"I saw a sword in the den on my way in, hanging over the fire place," Allison paused but figured knew the truth was better than constantly guessing. She reached over to her purse, pulled out an eye liner pencil and drew a Kanji that looked almost like an inverted number 5 on Kira's palm. "It has this symbol on the handle. Might literally mean, restoring it could mean finding 'oneself'."

Kira shook her head, confused. "Those are just shards," she insisted. "They're artifacts my Dad collected. That sword was shattered over a hundred years ago-"

"That belongs to you," Allison insisted. "It's ancestral. Trust me, with all the weapons collectors in my family, I've seen the type. You said your Dad collected them, you might want to ask him where he collected them from."

Kira stared down at her palm and clasped the one hand in the other.

"Speaking of talking to your parents," Allison scooped up her belongings, "mine are going to kill me."

"Wait!" Kira jumped to her feet, she remembering the urgency, she raced around to find her Nokia and quickly texted Allison.

Confused, but trying to work on a time crunch Allison opened up the image right away and stared down at the silhouetted figure somewhere in the posh Hills Aires East neighborhood. Something was odd about the photo, but nothing she could put her finger on right away.

"What's this?"

"Jackson. Last night, he drove me home from Lydia's party," Kira came up beside her, pressing up right along Allison's side, virtually sharing the same physical space.

"But he didn't show up to Lydia's party," Allison blinked down at the image, curious to see what it was that Kira found so fascinating.

"He wasn't, because he stopped down the road to throw rocks at a weird huge Coyote," Kira said quietly and Allison slowly looked up, stared with surprise.

"All night?" she asked, to which Kira shrugged. Allison looked back at the photo and tried to see what Kira saw. There was no animal, there was barely the shape of a Jackson through a distorted mist. "Alright, thanks. I've got to go."

As she slipped out through the front door, after waving goodbye from afar to the Yukimura parents who were off in separate rooms doing their separate parental things. Kira tugged at her sleeve.

"Is everything going to be, okay?" Kira asked sweetly.

"Yeah, of course." Allison nodded, rocking onto the tips of her toes to try at a positive declaration. "I'll look into this. School's tomorrow, so, you know."

"I meant with you," Kira's smile dimmed a little with her concern, "are you going to be, okay?"

Blinking rapidly, Allison couldn't think of a reply, so she just nodded and hurried away to catch the bus.

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Track 08 - Brother by The Mispers

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{Midday-Noon – McCall's House, Lakewood Neighborhood}

"Hey, I'm pretty sure Kate Argent is the second suspected murderer," Stiles grinned tightly, rolling on the balls of his heels, "now what are we having for lunch?"

Before giving Scott time to process Stiles shoved by him and entered the house. He waved 'hello' cheerily to Melissa before dropping a kiss on her cheek. He went straight to gossiping with the Missus about last night's party.

"He missed quite the doozy," Stiles embellished, he built up a fiction punctuated with useless facts about music played, snacks had and decorations he'd observed. When Melissa asked who else was there, "Oohhhh, the place was packed with weirdos, I wouldn't know where to begin. Scott is lucky to have missed it."

"Sounds like Scott missed out on a real rager," she kidded and tapped her son on shoulder to keep him focused and the burgers from burning. Part of his grounding had been to prepare meals, she'd prefer them not to taste of charcoal. "Sticking around to eat? When was the last time you had a good meal?"

"I could be persuaded," he grinned, and winked towards his best-friend. But Scott could not be persuaded with charm. Melissa mistook for mopping over his punishment, not at all as his agitation with Stiles' nonchalance. "Last time I ate, was with Mrs. Martin while I helped clean up this morning."

"That was so considerate of you," Melissa said, awestruck. "And surprising."

"I know, isn't it," Stiles aimed his sarcasm at Scott.

"Sure, sounds like it," Scott mumbled while he tried (and failed) to flip a burger without it falling apart.

"It really works up a guy's appetite," Stiles rubbed his stomach exaggeratedly.

"I bet," Scott sighed, and took a long sip from his second glass of soda.

His Mom left them to finish their meal together, while she went out to the Bank, but she expected Scott to still be there and be grounded when she got back. Stiles saluted and assured her that he would see to it.

Once the front door shut, he slammed his chair down from its titled back position, "How'd you get in this morning?" Stiles asked.

"Fine." It amazed Scott when he kept swerved subjects like Mad River bends. "I left Allison's car a couple blocks away and got in through the window a 30mins before she woke up. I barely caught some sleep before my Mom dragged me out of bed too cook breakfast. Then go grocery shopping. It's not even noon."

"Did you get any rest at all?"

"Not much. She's a stricter than Coach." Scott groaned, rubbing hard at his face in aggravation. "Stiles, what the hell are you talking about? You know Kate is the second murderer?"

The chair scraped further toward the table, Stiles' elbows dropped down onto the surface and he propped his chin on his upturned palms in giddy interest, "I know, right! Clear as day! I knew we shouldn't have trusted her! No one ever listens to me."

"So, you have proof?"

"Well," he eased back and picked up a piece of lettuce, "no, but it's obvious isn't it. She's evil."

Scott sighed and dropped his head into his hands. When he looked up again, Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him and kept chomping away. Somehow that made him hungrier, so Scott picked at fries.

"Thinking she's evil is not enough. What does Isaac think?"

"Dunno." Stiles frowned lightly and sniffed in discomfort. "I'll ask when he gets home. It's not a conversation to have over text."

"Not a conversation to avoid either."

Stiles face fell a little further, he thought about it and answered, "Allison thinks so."

"What?" Scott knew better than to assume Stiles was being straightforward. "She said so? She said, 'I think Kate is a murderer'?"

"No." To avoid any awkwardness, Stiles took a loud long sip of soda, then added sharply, "But I didn't ask! It was distinctly alluded to."

"How?" Scott asked straightforwardly but Stiles shrugged while taking another sip. "If you didn't ask, then how could she have agreed with you?"

"Trust me, she was too tired to lie." Stiles chewed hard on the end of a fry, "I'll confront her on it when we talk later."

"Do you talk to Allison often?" Scott asked, the gap between words asked something else.

Stiles gulped down his mouthful to give a toothy grin, "we don't always talk about you if that's what you're really asking."

"I wasn't asking."

"Of course not," Stiles snorted mildly, he glanced around the comfortable clutter. It was nice to be around during the day, and not feverishly babbling. He looked back to Scott and smiled warmly. "You'd never ask. That's why I'm saying it. Just like I get to ask her about things you wouldn't, about keeping tabs on, you know what. 'The Creature Walks Among Us'?"

Scott shrugged and decided to throw out his wildest, best guess. "Jackson?"

"Ding-ding." Stiles sounded a little proud, but mostly relieved. "Got it in one."

"You're working together to help Jackson?"

"To help Jackson? Ssuurree, the particulars have yet to be seen." He licked his lips in consideration and looked off for a moment in thought. "This does throw a wrench in things but doesn't make it impossible. Her Aunt's a murderer. I just know it."

"Stiles, you can't turn up on her doorstep and say 'good morning, I think your Aunt's a murderer'."

"Pfft, I'd never say that," he cringed in offense, "I'd say 'J'accuse...!'" with that he held up his butter knife like a scabbard. Scott snickered at that. "I get it, I don't have proof yet and I don't want to rock the boat-"

Scott stopped eating and looked up slowly. "So, what is it that you're asking?"

"I'm asking if you wanted to come with me to find proof," Stiles' attempt at a meek grin was virtually lecherous.

Scott slowly shoved away his plate, his appetite abandoned him. "You've got to be kidding me. There is no way we can go back to the Hale House. That place is demolished, it probably still reeks of poison."

"Maybe. Probably." Stiles nodded, conceding each point, less so each time then straightened up, "That's not the point. You wanted to go back to the Preserve to look for your 'Origin', then let's go. I just think we should broaden our search," Stiles connected threads like a master weaver.

"Do you really think they're connected?" leaning forward, Scott asked.

"No. Maybe. Sometimes." Nodding again, Stiles answered with wavering conviction.

"So, some things are connected?" Scott's expression pinched trying to make sense of Stiles, an effort that took effort.

"Yes." He nodded once, absolutely certain. "Kate is. She came to town the day Derek's body was found. Within hours. She turns up at the Hale House within minutes of the explosion without any real reason for being there. And then..."

"And then?" Scott lifted a brow, interested but not sold completely.

"There's Lydia."

"Is there something wrong with Lydia?" the alarm in Scott's low voice was palpable.

"No. God, no!" Stiles waved his hands around like he wanted to push back all Scott's fears with one gesture. "Nothing is wrong with Lydia. She's been perfect, a perfect Banshee. But she's been blocking this at every turn. I don't believe in destiny or anything, but I think- I think this is crucial."

"Crucial how?" Scott bit his lip. His investment in this conversation, in this venture was imperative but uncertain.

"We have to do this," Stiles felt determined, "and we have to do this now. Lydia is the only one who could prevent these things from getting worse. And being both from Beacon Hills and from the Hale pack, I'm the only one who could have figured this out."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Scott hated the constant paralyzing feeling that change could affect them, but he could not affect change. Everything Stiles said, even the way Stiles said it reminded him of his weakness. It reminded Scott the only time he felt powerful was when he let the Monster-Alpha take control.

Stiles looked at him in disbelief, and then smiled, "What you're best at? What you've always done, Scott? You look out for us. I can't do this without you."

"Of course, you can." Scott shook his head in dismay, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're smart enough. The two of you could figure this out-"

"I'm not brave enough, not without you." Stiles voice turned soft, very changed from before. A mildness came to it and on the table top Stiles clasped Scott's hands to keep them from shaking. "Kate is threatening my pack, this Monster is hurting my family. You tell me, how do I get through any of that without you?"

"Shit, dude." Scott sighed, a weak smile tugged at the side of his lips. When Scott looked to Stiles, nothing stood in between. With one hand he rubbed his face, like he could wipe away years exhaustive psychosis while the other hand lightly wrapped Stiles knuckles. They grinned at each other after that, not exactly laughing but just shy of it.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Stiles looked surprisingly still for once and watched Scott with nervousness.

"There isn't a destiny. But there is a plan, and someone else has it out against our home. Why else would we have 3 packs, Isaac and Kira-"

"4 packs." Stiles corrected and held up 4 fingers on his right hand. Then like a magician, he knocked it against his left hand and held up 2 fingers on his left hand and 3 on his right. "The Alpha Twins; Aiden and Ethan. Which brings us up to 5 Alphas, not counting our resident murderous psychopathic Monster-Alpha."

"Alphas can be twins?" Scott titled his head in curiosity, sitting back he extended his arms in front of him. "Alphahood can be shared like that?

"Sure, it's rare, but not unheard of." Stiles sighed and waved his hands like this was just another of all the crazy factual things Scott just had to accept already. "If an Alphahood isn't transferred entirely, when it's shared it has the best chance to stabilize between siblings. What? I have experience with it."

Scott nodded, crossing his arms over his chest he nodded and gave this a deep think. He applied this new information to the present. "Allison didn't know anything about them?"

Stiles wasn't at the party when they confronted one of the Twins, he had no way of evaluating the situation and had to trust Scott's judgment but "Her family might've. I can ask about them, too."

"Do you think she knew that Erica was alive?" Scott thought about it hard enough it left a deep crease in his brow. "How are you doing with that anyway?"

Stiles made a flippant, gesture fluttering through the air, "haven't had time to process. Maybe when I've talked it over with Isaac. Maybe when I've had some real sleep. Maybe I will ask Allison, but I don't see any good coming of it, she looked just as surprised as the rest of us, and she never knew Erica before her whole rebranding. But if there's one thing this town has taught me; until you've seen the body, don't assume they're dead."

"When you see her, could you ask her a couple of questions for me?" asked Scott, he stood up and moved to collect their dishes regardless of whether they were done or not. While hovering close to Stiles he flashed Stiles his most charming grin.

"Sure, I'd love to be your go between!" Stiles said with all the sugary sweetness of a child in a breakfast cereal ad, as he shoved away his plate having lost his appetite.

Obviously, Stiles' sense of urgency left an impression on Scott, either that or he just wanted Stiles to go over to Allison's for him. Like now, already. Second breakfast was over.

.

Track 09 - Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons

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{Afternoon – Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}

"Bennet came home."

"Yes," Allison conceded.

"With injuries," her Father criticized, arms crossed along his puffed out chest.

"Well, I didn't give them to him," Allison responded flippantly, tying her hair up after a well-deserved shower.

"I'm going to ground you!" he groaned. Grasped at the air like he could strangle it. "Yes! That's what we'll have to do! No parties! No after-school activities! No friends!"

Sighing, Allison turned to face her Father who loomed in her doorway with a much creepier Axel behind him and Norm finishing up the parade of cronies.

"Is Bennet, okay?" she asked Norm, their Medic, over all of their shoulders. He gulped in surprise at being addressed, then nodded curtly, trying to go back to his straight-faced disapproving mean-guy routine.

None of them appreciated whenever Chris took on his Father-shtick when they should be on Hunter business, and like it or not that was the card she had to pull now.

"Look," she threw her hands up in the air and started to slither an awkward path through them, "ground me or whatever, but hampering my progress seems pointless at this stage."

"What stage?" Axel put up a hand for Chris to hold his tongue while Allison to finish up.

Allison padded barefoot along the hall carpet to her parent's bedroom door and gave it two tight raps before she turned back to face them, "I figured out who attacked Isaac behind the school."

Her Mother swung opened the bedroom door with the violence of a vampire leaping from a grave that finally made Allison jump and take pause. Victoria must have been up all night waiting for her, plotting and calculating. If Allison didn't make this debriefing worthwhile there was a very good chance, she could get deported to her Grandfather's team in France and never see the states again.

"I think it's time to sit down, in the Family Room," Allison suggested. Victoria looked unconvinced but conceded and agreed to meet them there in a minute. She would reach out to Tyhurst and Livy who still stayed in town. With a sigh Allison shuffled quickly toward Bennet and Rumy's room.

Their bedroom door opened quickly, maybe not with springboard quickness but with a speed that gave Allison great relief to see their friendly faces.

"Time to pay the piper?" Bennet smiled, he looked puffy eyed from what little restless sleep he had. The right side of his face was scraped up from a bad fall poolside the night before and seemed to be walking off a limp. He played it off on the way to the Meeting Room and used Rumy as a cane.

Even at capacity, the Meeting Room still felt like they could camp out there for a few weeks, maybe not without killing each other but with arm space certainly. They all took seats at the table with Allison and her family at the head. Nearly everyone took the time to change, but Allison stayed barefoot, in yoga pants and an oversized T so that she could curl, squirm and stretch with ease and wait for all the eyes to settle in with their scrutiny.

"There are some more Alphas in town. Twins," she said with practiced cold Argent authority. "They turned up at Lydia's party last night."

"Why would they turn up at a teenager's party?" Kate scoffed a little harshly, mostly sleepily.

"Because they're teenagers. Teenagers tend to turn up at parties," Allison snapped quickly. She looked at her Father as she did so. Partly because she wanted her Father to lay off on her about going to the party already and partly because she wasn't sure if she could look Kate in the face right then.

"Do we know who they are?" asked Rumy and beside him Bennet added quickly, "Aiden and Ethan. I've never noticed them before."

"They don't attend BHHS. I know that for certain," Allison put her hand to her chin in thought.

"Then how did they turn up at the party?" Livy started in exactingly, her dark eyes penetrating.

Allison took in a deep breath, "Lydia didn't invite them. But kids from all over the county turn up. Even from the nearby college. They could have just been drawn in by the amount of activity going on."

"It's the New Moon tonight," Axel rubbed at his jaw in thought, "it's surprising more didn't turn up."

She and Bennet looked toward one another, he waited on her lead on whether or not to bring up their other guest appearances that night.

"Were they Isaac's attackers?" Victoria sounded more dubious than curious, "did they hurt anyone else?"

"I couldn't guess their motives outside of being party-goers," she admitted partly as a deflection, partly because she knew it would come up to bite her on the ass eventually. "There was another Werewolf there very briefly. She did come to rile things up, maybe to spy, I don't know, I didn't get a chance to confront her."

"-so, you got a chance to confront the Twins?"

"- did you recognize her?"

"-how did you know she was 'antagonizing' if you didn't speak to her?"

Blinking, Allison took a step back from the table, overwhelmed by their barrage. When her Mother struck the table and asked for silence Allison put up a hand to stop her, to stop them all.

"Uhm, Roman; no. I've never seen her before. But I can write down a description. I'll sit with Fry and draw up a composite. Livy; I confronted one of the Twins. His name was Ethan. Bennet and I engaged him-" with that she nodded toward Bennet, who waved cheekily and made a displaying gestured toward his injured cheek. "-no one was injured."

"Hey! I - I had a concussion," Bennet scoffed, giving her an incredulous glare.

Allison rolled her eyes and waved him off, "well, nobody got seriously hurt. We didn't get anything from Ethan aside from resentment. He blames Hunters for starting the Werewolves' war."

"That's not surprising," scoffing loudly, Roman leaned back in his seat, all eyes zipped toward him. "What, like it's a new thing for the mongrels to blame us for everything that makes them hot under the collar?"

Across from him Bennet explained, with strained patience, "he said something about murder-"

"Butchering," Allison interjected.

"Right," Bennet nodded towards her than back to the rest of the table, "butchering Werewolves. I don't think he was talking about what's going on in town. I've heard there's been some action going on outside of Beacon Hills, some real bloodshed that we're not hearing about but the Werewolves are."

"Nonsense," Victoria and Kate answered in near unison although their tones were opposing. One scoffing the other confident. Victoria gave Kate a superior glare to stand down in her Meeting. "There is no possibility Werewolves could know something that we don't. We've got Beacon Hills on lockdown to contain this threat."

"Beacon Hills, the township?" Bennet looked confused and asked immediately, Rumy then gave him a look of warning.

From his seat diagonally Chris answered coolly, "No. The County. There is no getting in or out of this place without us knowing."

"Wait, what does that actually imply? Then how come we haven't stopped this yet-?"

"Alright, alright kid," Rumy wrapped his arm around Bennet's shoulders and hugged him firmly, shaking him hard enough to nearly crush bones. "I'm sure that'll all be clearer in the mornin'. Now, how bout we let the Boss get back to her debriefing?"

Looking confused but conceding, they turned their attention back to the head of the table where Allison stood hunched over, leaning her weight on her left arm and the thumbnail of her right hand between her front teeth.

"Aly?" Rumy called her back to earth. Chris' face looked sour but mostly intrigued to sit back and listen further, Victoria stepped aside just to watch.

"Right. What else?" she seemed to work on auto-pilot after that, her mind there while her words were here. "I engaged the Alpha. I can only guess he didn't take my head off because he was surprised or at half strength without his Twin. Or both. Or because he didn't want to." That seemed to impress the table enough into silence. With that she could ask of them to do more research on Twin Alphahood. It seemed rare and they had little testimonial about that in the bestiary. Ulrich seemed eager for the research work, to reach out to other Hunters and see what they might know. Leveque less so, but with the little time they had they needed to use the resources they had. So, Ulrich went south and Leveque east to tap Hunter resources and come back with other archival facts.

"There's also the Werewolf girl at the party to deal with," Tyhurst brought up, sounding a little too bloodthirsty for her liking.

"What about her?" Allison tried to shrug it off but knew her tiredness was wearing at her sense of bravado. "She's just another teen. She could be from their pack, or another pack, or a stray. If I see her turn up at the school, I'll let you know?"

"Shouldn't she have sensed you?" he squinted, nailing her with a hard look of scrutiny. "A house full of hormonal teens and loud music, but you figure out who she is before she figures you out. Didn't she notice your Werewolf friends?"

"Obviously," Allison half scoffed but mostly just shrugged away from his stare, "that's how I figured out what she was up to. But they ended up chasing her away."

"Is that when the Alpha attacked you?" Livy asked cockily.

"I. Attacked. Him," Allison glared over at her.

"Well, didn't you think that maybe it wouldn't have escalated if you weren't sending your pets off to hunt for you?" Livy's voice turned silkier the more venomous she spoke.

"I didn't orchestrate anything," as much as Allison tried to keep control, she'd gotten too tired and her voice began to raise, "if that's what you're trying to suggest."

"Maybe, not dear." Livy's brow rose as her tone lowered in amusement. "And you have only just turned up home nearly 10 hours after the party ended with an elaborate tale painting yourself as quite the hero."

"You haven't explained the time gap," her Father agreed, his voice came from beside her, forceful but somehow a little kinder.

"I was hoping to do that-" she wiped at her face, agitation shaking her very bones. Finally, she admitted. "I was at the Yukimuras'."

"Everyone," her Mother's voice was suddenly very close beside her and booming. "You've got busy work. So go, get busy. You're dismissed."

The room cleared fast as lightening, even Bennet speedily hobbled along, and then Allison she felt a sudden tap on the shoulder. While Axel argued with her parents at being excluded, Kate whispered secret instructions her right-hand, Livy (while the witch glared haughty daggers in her direction), Rumy tapped Allison's shoulder before leaving and whispered, "Oh, I can't wait to hear what you must have thought of Noshiko and Ken. Man, have I got some stories."

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Track 10 - In The Woods Somewhere by Hozier

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{Afternoon – Northbridge, Beacon Hills}

The wind lashed at Isaac's neck and face, but his back felt very warm. It felt large with her weight up against him, her warmth wrapped around him from behind and the road rattling beneath were things that kept him questioning awake, but once Erica told him their destination, he started to question his reality.

It wasn't like Northbridge had been a forbidden place for him. Come to think of it, Isaac had no idea what magic compelled Stiles to come in and out of town, how could he cross the towns' borders, while flashbacks haunted Isaac every mile he neared it – then suddenly they arrived. Erica wouldn't just direct him to the section of the road where their pack had been torn apart. No, she abandoned Scott's bike with two strangers (that scruffy looking Meyers guy, again and some other Werewolf he'd yet to meet, a tall wiry woman named Nik) then she led him right into the green thick leafy trees where they'd once been chased through.

As they continued, Erica's steps were measured, but her heart beat like a jackhammer. Half an hour later they came to the edge of a cliff, over a steep quarry with barely a sip of the Mad River cutting through it. It was haunted the place. Isaac briefly wrapped an arm around Erica's shoulder while they looked over the place where he once left her for dead, but that's not what they came here for.

Nearby, Deucalion and Jonsen stood on the lip of the edge, she looked feral, and he looked stoic. At their feet were shapes of Jonny and his fiancé Lennie, forced to kneel. Isaac gulped and tore his eyes away from them. Erica couldn't seem to take her eyes off of them. The fact that it was midday, that the sun might have still been out, bright and see the savagery made Isaac frightened. Or it could have been the location?

"I'm curious, Reíka. Why would you choose here to meet?" Deucalion asked, he had laughter in his voice, but his face read bitterness.

Among the trees, Isaac tensed up as Erica calmed, and he wished she'd get angrier and say the things he felt. She didn't suffer the same vivid nightmares where the rainfall mixed with blood, where the panicked sounds of the howls combined with screams as pack members and countless Werewolves dropped like meteorites.

Instead, she stood tall and dug her boots deep into the soil beneath her. "The connection to my pack ended in this place," she didn't say 'because of you' as much as Isaac wanted her to.

Although, not timid by nature, Erica wasn't made of granite either and she reached back blindly for Isaac. Coming forward, he locked on Deucalion with a glare of expertly bottled up anger, and he gripped Erica's hand tightly to loan her all the strength, he understood she would need.

"It makes sense to break your connection here, too." Erica aimed at Deucalion, but that wasn't where her target lay. When someone on the floor made sounds of protest, Jonsen hit them to stop and both of them slumped forward in hovelling defeat. Deucalion only looked toward Erica.

"That's not how we agreed. Reíka's meant to choose," Jonsen scoffed, referring to Isaac and Erica standing together.

"My choice is just that, I make this chooses for us all," Erica said, her chin jutted forward in that way she always did when she pouted for a later curfew. Even though Isaac recognized it, they didn't know that. Just like they didn't know that Erica never usually got her way.

"What is this supposed to mean?" Deucalion's was commanding even without wolfish features. When his voice hardened, his former Betas at his feet cowered. "If you're having people make your choices democratically, then you'll only ever be indifferent."

"I'm not indifferent, I'm not confused!" Erica argued but took a moment to organize her thoughts. "I'm staying loyal to myself, and that means thinking about someone else for a change." She imagined this haunted place could bring closure, or someone would surely stop her. Obviously that person would be Isaac, only he would pull her back if she went too far, he would edge her on if it was not enough. He was pack. He made her strong.

She looked to him, and he looked to the floor. Their faces were dirtier rather than puffy or bloody, their clothes were burnt and torn but they didn't' seem very wounded. Isaac remembered Derek's Autopsy report. He remembered it read that Derek kept healing, then was tortured again, then healed, and was tortured again. These two didn't look very hurt, but how long had they been held captive in Deucalion's basement? How long had it been since they tried to trade for Erica's body? It felt like the most complicated algebraic equation.

The idea of flinging someone to their deaths seemed preposterous but that's what had happened to Erica. Maybe Deucalion's people deserved to see the same thing happen to one of their own? Maybe that would be justice? Maybe it would give closure, and in the recesses of their mind Deucalion's people knew it because they already gave Erica leniency to choose... but Jonny and Lennie? They might not have personally put Erica in harm's way, but they weren't heroes in any respect. So, if Isaac said nothing what sort of man did that make him?

"Can we let them go?" Isaac voice was thick, and jaw clenched. He was nothing like these people. His natural pale blue eyes snapped up to look at the unnaturally glowing eyes of Werewolves older and far stronger than him. He looked pleadingly toward Erica, not hostile at all.

A calmer gaze and cheeky smile painted Erica's face, "just let them go already."

With a quick nod, Deucalion sent Jonsen to deal with their captives. She leaned down between their sweaty bent heads and whispered something, instructions before dragging them to their feet. They made excitable sounds by way of gratitude, but Isaac flinched out of their reach, their voices felt like poison to his ears.

Feeling light-headed, Isaac turned away and tried to grasp what just happened, when Erica came into view. Neither looking relieved nor upset and straightened his shoulders. After pulling a stray leaf from his hair Erica tugged him upright and nearer to her. Her stare was penetrating like they were alone on the hilltop. He wanted to ask her why they were still there if being above the quarry made her shake with fear? Then Erica placed her hands over his, on his chest and Isaac realized his hands were the ones trembling.

"This means he comes back with us?" Jonsen said returning to them on the edge.

"I didn't come here as part of an initiation," Isaac closed his eyes and tried not to snap at her.

"Then why the hell did you come here?" the way Deucalion judged, the way his hard-set glowing Alpha Red eyes made Isaac realize something. Whether Jonny and Lennie lived or died there, was a lose/lose for Deucalion. His Betas were taken away from him, and it was what Erica and Isaac did to him.

"For her," Isaac responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A brief lift to his brow, a quirk of interest, Deucalion glanced between them. Recognizing the way Jonsen hung off of his every word, he understood what it meant to be closely bonded with someone in your pack. He gave Jonsen a small nod, a silent language agreeing to move onto their next steps, then looked back to the teens and slowly his features went back to a man's. His lips were a thin with a hard pressed smirk, "Isaac, I meant what I said. You're welcome to-"

Without letting him finish his sentiment, Erica tugged at Isaac's hand and started away. Without running they moved quickly and didn't look back. The junky sedan was no longer roadside, and likely the captives had disappeared from the scene. But Nik and Meyers remained beside the bike still waited roadside by their motorcycles. They shared glares but no conversation. They were on the bike in no time.

Instead of heading back to The Hills, Erica weaved the bike off road, and came up through an overhanging hill until they reached Look Out point. On the edge, she strained her eyes to see the edge of town and breathed easier when Isaac came up alongside her, he thought he knew why. He saw the clunky sedan make it through traffic, through the construction area and onto the highway, until he couldn't make it out at all.

"They're gone." Erica said to Isaac and smacked his shoulder lightly. Delightedly, let out a deep breath, "They're gone!"

Not because she doubted Deucalion would keep his word, although for a couple of hours Isaac thought so. It was because Erica envied them their freedom. Those betrothed got out and they had each and she hoped they might make it out of Beacon Hills alive.

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Track 11 - BTSK by MSMR

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{Dusk – Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}

Back again in the Argents' atrium an exotic purple Wolfsbane stood newly on display, under the stairwell and alongside the doorframe, there was mounted the large battle axe Stiles remembered from the Meeting Room. They certainly 'Huntered' up the place since the last time he visited. Stiles whistled easily to play off his anxiety while he paced the area, under the watchful eye of the man he knew well to be Allison's Godfather (and his Dad's new BFF).

"The clever redhead," he said with a very thick tone of disbelief.

"Yup," Stiles said with a pop to his pronunciation.

"Is dating you?" Rumy leaned onto the end of the banister, grinning like a bandit.

Stiles glared and nodded.

"Like, for real?" He said like a gossipy teenager.

Stiles stopped pacing, he turned to face his adversary. With his arms crossed and his jaw working overtime to think of a raw bitter comment he glared. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"No reason," he gave a thin lipped smirk, shrugging off the comment. "I just don't see it. Seems like bullshit to me, no'fense."

Scoffing and throwing his hands up in the air, Stiles whined, "why do people say 'no offense' when they're going out of their way to be offensive?" then he whirled back around to jab a finger toward his enemy, "and me dating Lydia is no stranger than you courting my Dad. Oh, oh yeah! I know about that!"

"Are you really jealous because it's more likely for me and your Dad to have something real, than the two of you?" Rumy rubbed at his unshaven jaw while drawing out the sentence, in a torturously slow way. Stiles gaped and jumped away from each word until his back smacked into the axe and he jumped around to stand upright.

"You are a bad man," he glared. "I just wanted to come here, innocently and friendly-like for a little assistance from a 'friend.' I wasn't expecting the mental violation."

The man stepped further down, dropping to sit on the last step and pat the empty space beside him for Stiles to sit, "so it is assistance you came here for. You could have said so from the get-go."

Reeeeally, disliking the guy had gotten so much info out of him in less time than it took for Stiles ask to see Allison, so he scuffed his sneakers when he moved along as a sign of rebellion.

After sitting down, Rumy began question, "This is about Lydia?" Stiles nodded. "Is she okay?" Stiles shrugged. "Do you know where she is?" Stiles scoffed and stared down at the floor between his brand-new, not very well cared for Nikes. "Did you want us to find her?" Sighing, Stiles twisted to face him. The man wasn't a large man, but he had a large presence. They shared the step and yet he felt like if they had to fight, with the battle axe within swiping reach Rumy'd give him a decent fight. His grey eyes didn't look away when Stiles tried to glare him down.

"I don't want anything from you."

The guy waited a thoughtful second, and then chuckled. "Funny, that's not what Lydia said the last time she was here." Stiles nose flared and jaw set hard against any words that might burst out stopping the man interrogation. "She's always here. Hanging out, working with Allison," he smirked enjoying the vagueness of his words, "and now your Dad is all about hanging out. It makes you wonder if they're willing to make things work, why're you still running around at the seams? Don't you know that's where things tear apart?"

"Do you know you're weird? I mean you've gotta see that," Stiles' brows arched to an arch of comical proportions, "like to the point where you might need to wear one of those nice white vests that make you hug yourself." After a moment when the man shook his head in defeat, Stiles patted his shoulder and stood, putting as much distance between them as logistically possible, he added, "Good talk."

"Stiles?" Allison started to rush down the stairs after Bennet retrieved her from wherever she had been hidden away inside the confines of the Argents' cavernous fortress. "Rumy?" she added in a mortified tone, "What's going on?"

"Just keeping your friend company while you finished up your family meeting. Seems he's misplaced his girlfriend," Rumy jutted his thumb toward Stiles, "we've misplaced an asset."

Allison stopped her descent. Despite already looking exhausted, whatever color was left to her seemed to leave her cheeks and even Bennet froze behind her, looking startled and bruised. "She still hasn't turned up?"

"Still?" Bennet asked, yanking at Allison's arm. With a sigh she shrugged him off and gestured for Stiles to come upstairs.

"Come on, let's talk in my room."

Rumy made a wry comment about inviting boys up to her bedroom unsupervised, but Allison ignored him with the slam and the locking of her door.

"What's up?"

"He's super great by the way! Is he naturally wired to make you feel like you're on trial for stealing all the cookies in every cookie jar, ever?" Stiles began to pace as Allison crawled up onto the center of her bed and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Well, yes." She smirked cheekily, "he's an expert in espionage and interrogation, also he's my Godfather. He gets a bit protective of me. If he didn't try to make you wait in my Mother's garden, it means he must like you a little."

Stiles eyes twitched at the mere suggestion of Victoria's notorious herbal garden of doom. After a giggle at his expense Allison insisted Stiles catch her up on exactly what it was, he came to tell her in person. What was so dire he was willing to 'take on a house full of Hunters to come banging on her door'?

"Well, besides Lydia, Isaac is also M.I.A." he said flippantly, but it was obvious from the veins in his neck this wasn't an easy thing for him to deal with. "Evidently he told my Dad he was going on a walkabout. I know in my gut, in the deep dark bowels of my insides he's fucked off to find Erica. Without me!"

"Is that a bad thing?" Allison tried to see the awfulness in that.

Stiles spun around, hands clenched and breathing heavily "well, no. Maybe. I don't know! Come with me to search?"

"For Erica, Isaac or Lydia?" Allison brows cinched in thought, with eyes focused tight and she dropped her chin onto the tops of her knees.

"All of them! Aren't you trained for this?! Isn't that what you always say?!" He kept running his hands through his hair until everything spiked at mad angles.

"Alright, calm down." Allison crawled over, grabbed both wrists and pulled him kneeling onto the bed. "Think. Did you come here to actually ask for my help? Or are you tempted to take off and you're looking for me to validate that reckless impulse?"

"What?" Stiles quieted, startled and flinchingly he settled. "No. I just... don't know what to do. With Lydia on the lamb and Isaac taking off, I feel like my circle of friends is coming apart. There has to be something to do. Sitting around and worrying shouldn't be a pastime. There's just got to be something."

Sighing, Allison shook her head and settled, legs crisscrossed beside him. "You're not alone. I'm still here."

"I like your room," Stiles glanced around to avoid awkward eye contact, while smiling goofily from the warmth of her statement. "Alright," he side-eyed her "still BFF's."

"4EVER," she flicked hair out of her face with a comical air and he smirked. Keeping lightness in tone she said seriously, "that's not all you have to be grateful for. Erica is alive. That's something, right? Without having to lift a finger, Lydia uncovered the Alphas who attacked Isaac. And Scott's helped give refuge to a Kitsune."

"About that," Stiles turned to her with bouncing interest, "you never said what happened in the basement. You guys went down giggling and frisky A.F., next thing I know you blew up Lydia's backyard."

"It really isn't more complicated than that." Shaking her head, she closed her eyes embarrassed at the memory, "we misjudged the whole situation. If Kira hadn't figured out how to control her range over electricity, we might have fried the sophomore class."

"So, we know for sure she's a Werefox," Stiles pursed his lips in consideration. "Good to know."

"I guess you could say that, but that's not all." Allison shrugged, and then fished out her cellphone from her back pocket. "She ran into Jackson last night."

"I thought he wasn't at the party," Stiles crawled further onto the bed, crowding her personal space.

"I thought so too, but it looks like he made it to Lydia's neighborhood at least. See?" Allison pulled up the photo Kira sent to her. The distorted image of Jackson of standing in the center of the road, in harm's way chucking stones off in the distance made for odd display. Stiles snatched up the phone anyway and stared at it like it held the Holy Grail.

"She took this."

"Yep."

"Then what?"

"Then she went over to him." When he gave her a lecherous look Allison took a deep breath and said the more incredulous thing, "then she let him drive her home."

Stiles didn't react at first. He fiddled with the image for a long while adjusting the settings. When he handed it back to her, he pointed off through the bushes. "There. What do you see?"

Squinting she looked through the leafy bushes at what looked like, "Porch lights maybe."

"Those seem like Beta blue eyes." Stiles said somberly, "Jackson is tossing those stones at a shapeshifter."

"How do you know that?" Allison grabbed the phone back and held it closer to her face. "Kira said something about the Coyote seeming 'weird'. Maybe she meant shapeshifter-weird."

"So, we're weird now?" he made light, with the cock of a brow.

She rolled her eyes and ignoring him as she pointed down at the phone, "that's not the only interesting thing. Look at the car he has beside him, it's a Hyundai Sonata Hybrid."

Stiles blinked and analyzed it, memorizing the familiar details, "what about it?"

"It's not Jackson's. He's been driving a Toyota Tundra Pick-Up since his Porsche was totaled so-" with a bit of a grimace she proposed, "It's not the sort of car he'd be caught dead in. He might have borrowed this one in a pinch. And I've seen it around school."

"So, he's borrowed a friend's car... except Jackson doesn't have any friends," Stiles scoffed lightly, joking a little but it was an observance, nonetheless. Jackson had been incrementally cutting off anyone who cared about him, ever.

"I'm just speculating but what if he was sent there by his Master. This isn't regular Jackson behavior," she shrugged. She wouldn't have supposed this if her instincts weren't surer than sure. Definitely sure enough to share with Stiles.

"This might be proof the Kanima Master is creeping around the School?" Stiles gave a little laugh in relief while staring back at the photo. It was something alright and he couldn't help but try to place the familiar red little bastard and came up short.

"It's not just someone at school." Allison said smartly, "I've seen it in faculty parking. Come on, think about it. If the Kanima has to be near him a lot, don't you think that makes sense the Master is school staff?"

Stiles glanced at her fiercely, "but who? Maybe Mr. Harris, that guy reeks of evil..."

She chuckled but didn't take the suggestion with too much seriousness. "Don't know. This is just guesswork," she pulled the phone delicately from this hand.

Glancing around the room again he took a moment before ticking off theories on his fingers. "1) The 2nd murderer is probably a Hunter, 2) the Kanima Master is probably at school with us, 3) My friends have probably, definitely, fucked off to join the circus, 4) there are Twin Alphas in town that we owe apologies to for them kicking our asses and 5) the fledgling Kitsune is doing a better job of rounding up the bad guys in one night than we've done in 2 weeks."

Petting his shoulder Allison said, "I think what you really want to say is, you think Kate is the 2nd murderer."

After a quiet moment of staring off, Stiles nodded, and she brought her hand down to hold in the both of his. Sighing deeply, Allison rested her head on his shoulder, while rolling the list of theories in her head realizing that even if they had a place to start, they didn't have anywhere to go with this information.

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Track 12 - Your Ghost by Greg Laswell

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{Early Evening – Deucalion's House, The Hills}

"How long ago?" Isaac popped a slice of apple in his mouth.

"Not long," Erica cut another slice with her pocket knife, "those two handed me over to Deucalion a couple weeks ago."

Isaac shuddered at the thought but gave it a second thought, frowning deeply he leaned back against the wood plank at his back.

They'd been sitting on top of Erica's bed, listening to loud music and caught up for over an hour. In one corner stood a lamp with a scarf thrown over it casting a pattern of lavender and vague stars across the pale blue room. One side of the room had a bay window, the other wall bar rack with a shelf on top that kept her clothes, with knick-knacks and underneath were arrangements of shoes tossed in disarray. Under a sturdy canopy frame, in the center of the room lay a full mattress under a mountain of unmade blankets. The one outlet had a cheap extension cord overwhelmed with a laptop, phone charger, the lamp, an added alarm clock because Erica was a monster to wake up in the morning and the phone alarm was never enough. Compared to her room at the Homestead, the place felt barren and barely lived in. She explained it Isaac, she preferred it that way. Erica never wanted the place to feel home-y or permanent. Experience taught her better than that.

"I'm not sure how long but those two kept me in trapped in their car until it was convenient to trade me."

"But where'd been before they found you?" Isaac munched loudly.

"Hard ta 'splain." Erica shrugged and nibbled on her slice of apple slower. Her bare toes, shiny bronze polish and everything, lay draped over his legs and dangling off of the mattress.

"Try," he resettled her pillows by example, "I've got the time."

"I've even watched you play lacrosse a few times. You looked good." She cut off his grumbling, in a comically lecherous tone that made Isaac kick her and she kicked him back. He made a 'gimme' gesture and she leaned over and passed him another slice of apple.

"You know, near death experiences really knock it out of you." At first, she mock-pouted, but when his stare turned into a question, arching his brow to silently ask 'how much do you know?'

With a deep sigh, Erica looked distant, "I can't tell you what I don't remember, while I was healing up in the woods is still a blur. Until they grabbed me. Afterwards, I went looking for survivors and found the 2 of you playing house. Why didn't you come looking for me?"

Isaac cringed at the question. In his nightmares, Erica asked him that a thousand times and he had a thousand answers. Now with her handing him apple slices and making light of the darkest things, the words escaped him. Isaac crossed his arms, one hand over the other he could feel for a scar that had already healed over but reminded how super strength and fast healing didn't mean immortality. But if they both knew it intimately, why had she let Jonny and Lennie get tortured for 'a couple of weeks'?

"Just because you felt hurt and abandoned," Isaac narrowed his gaze to get past his sense of hypocrisy, and tried to reach out to his foster sister, his pack member, his Erica through the wound, "it doesn't give you a license to go around keeping people trapped in the basement."

"Why not?" she huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder she sat straighter, with her chest puffed up, leaning on against her arms. "That's what they did to me. They kept me knocked out in the trunk of their car until it seemed convenient to pawn off a Beta from the Hale pack in exchange."

He scoffed, "you gotta be kidding? Then I guess I have a right to find my Dad and beat him, shove him in a box. Forgetting every good memory I have of him, everything that has ever happened between us, every lesson I've learned that taught me to never give up. Everything that brought me to the Hales to begin with." When Erica cocked her head to the side, watching and calculating his words, the light made her look phantom, and his nightmares felt tangible but somehow the words came out easier. "You and me, and Derek, we all know- Dying again would be easier than letting each other down."

"Geez, you're really messed up, huh?" Erica gave him an out after he stared at her unblinkingly for half a minute. Then she started again in a nearly cheerful tone. "There was this one game," she chuckled in a way that nearly made her choke and made him laugh. "I went to one of your games, one of the first I saw you play. I went to say something to you and boom! Everything went nuts," she had her fingers wriggling in her hair like insect limbs. "Right through the air was a shrieking sound like I'd never heard. I woke up on the floor, I was lucky not to get crushed but when I looked out, you and your friend Scott were running the opposite way from everyone else. They were rushing through the main exit, but you went to the Argent girl's car. Talk about nuts. After that, I wasn't sure if could just walk up to you-"

"You should have!" Isaac remembered that game, hearing Lydia scream for the first time, hearing the scream that made the Cyclones lose their first game of the season and the scream that broadcasted Derek Hale's death. No wonder Erica collapsed. Isaac stretched back and sighed deeply, imagining how different the night would have played out had he found Erica instead of Stiles. "If I had known you were right, there."

Tilting her head slowly, Erica considered the sincerity of Isaac's statement and put forth her own proposition. "Stay. Crash here. You'll be safer here with a real pack."

"Sure," he laughed and with his laughter her legs rose on his lap. "Stay with the warring packs, while they've continue to war. And they're all murdering each other throughout the land for no reason."

Her eyes shone, they held his fiercely and she pulled her legs off him and climbed to her feet. "Fine. Go hide in plain sight. Where everyone else sees you like bait for a big game!"

"Erica," Isaac watched in confusion, he lurched forward and grabbed her hand before she stepped away, her breathing came hard, and her teeth had gone sharp without realizing it.

"Stay. Stay the weekend," She clasped her other hand to her mouth when she realized and composed herself.

"Ok, but you know it's already Sunday." Nodding, Isaac slung his legs over the side of the mattress to sit beside her, while she stood shakily. She tightened her grip and smiled winningly, he winked in response, "and we're not done talking."

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Track 13 – Buffalo Flower by The Mynabirds

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{New Moon 2:39 am – Beacon Hill State University, City Central}

It was meant to just be a nap, not a sleepover. It had just been such a long day, Lydia just wanted to some respite. Didn't people remember Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest. There was no stopping the impending Monday.

Aiden lay asleep naked beside her, he was very warm, Werewolves ran hotter than normal she noted mentally and leaned away from him. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when he offered her a place to shower and change if she wanted to get out of her party dress, she knew he meant take her back to his place. Now, she found herself in one of his BHU sweatshirts, without a ride home, and feeling sore all over.

She slipped out of his bed, tip-toed out of his bedroom and explored the suite. It wasn't terribly big for an RA's setup but at least he didn't share a bedroom with his twin. She rummaged the kitchen, disappointed by their lack of caffeinated options and downed a bottled water from the fridge. The lowlight in the common area made it seem haunted but that didn't scare her these days. While poking around she found a linen closet next to the bathroom, inside were clean towels, toiletries and most extraordinarily, a rigid box marked 'lost-and-found' items from the dorms. Inside the she found an abused and forgotten backpack, a number of t-shirts, sweaters and cardigan to choose from (she picked the soft green, front open cardigan that brought out her eyes). Digging around the discarded items was a gem, a Scoop-Neck Floral-Print Dress. She could make something of that.

After the quickest shower in recorded history, she changed into the dress, tugged on the cardigan and confronted the bathroom mirror. After a critical eye, she combed her hair out with her fingertips, after she discovered a hair-tie in the pocket of the cardigan she pulled her hair back and pushed it up to fall in messy, yet pretty swoops around her ears and neck. Then washed her face clean of any residue the weekend left on her and readied herself for the long walk home.

Returning to the scene of the crime, Lydia went back into Aiden's bedroom to retrieve her phone, shoes and shove the party dress, and probably his leather jacket into the backpack. She was zipping it up when a warm arm slipped around her waist and pulled her backwards onto the bed, they tumbled against the mattress giggling. She did enjoy his company, but it was getting late, or should one say early, and she was getting a headache.

"I can drive you back," he nuzzled her neck.

"I don't think so," Lydia playfully slapped his arm but didn't push him off. She turned in his embrace and stared into his charming nut-brown eyes. Hesitated then sighed deeply, "as much as I'd like to. I think our time together has come to an end. For now, anyway."

"Whatever," he huffed, stiffing his posture away from her, "I was hoping to spare you a walk of shame."

"It's only a walk of shame if you feel shame," she grinned, leaned forward, and kissed him soundly to quiet his protest. His nakedness between them was becoming painfully obvious. "This will have to do for now, buddy." She patted his chest and stood up.

"Aww, come on," he scrambled over the sheets and blocked the door. "If you stay, I can make it worth your while." He glanced down as a suggestion of promise, but Lydia wasn't paying any attention, her headache was speedily worsening and she really, really wanted him to get out of the way.

"Aiden," she said firmly, and hefted the backpack onto her shoulder. "I think you should get out of my way."

He cooled, stepped aside but eyed her curiously. Even though he moved out of her way she felt like no distance was safe enough. There was a sense that no matter how far she ran, she would never make it back to safety. She'd gone too far out.

Leaning forward, she gripped the doorknob and pressed her head against the door, her legs started to buckle as if she were exhausted from so much running and she couldn't make it another step.

"Aiden," they weren't sure whether she was warning him or asking for help, he wavered but came closer with a comforting hand at the small of her back offering aide if she needed help. She made a quiet keening noise as her knees hit floor and Aiden looked desperately around for something to help, finding nothing he rubbed her shoulders and whispered over and over she'd be okay.

From the other side of the door came a hard knock, Ethan demanded to know what was going on. Lydia's head snapped up, her brain felt ready to explode, her legs were ready to spring, and he was in the way. She couldn't hold it in anymore and she screamed at them to just back off!

Well, she certainly screamed at them, and it sent Ethan, door and all flying across the hall. Aiden fell backward, unconscious. Gasping for breath, Lydia came to stand, took in the scene confusedly but thought a little clearer. Unconscious at her feet were Twin Werewolves and she laid them out without even trying. Still buzzing a little, she felt unburdened and somehow safer, and headed off the University grounds. These powers were continuously overwhelming, but if she honed them, accepted them as the gifts they could be much more, there was no shame in that.

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Track 14 - Move to the Ocean by Brick+Mortar (Baauer Remix)

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{Monday: Midnight - Stilinski's House, Beacon Garden Community}

Heading home later than expected, Stiles felt weariness in a way he hadn't since his first night back home. Since he first collapsed in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, tired but not sleeping, letting his mind war at one evil question; 'What next?'

There were creaky steps and there were 'creaky' steps. After just getting off the phone with his Dad, reassuring him of a safe return, he launched up his creaking home steps that suddenly didn't feel safe at all. Stiles couldn't dare bring himself to move an inch further without the confrontation he sensed coming on.

"Hello again." Her smirk wasn't quite as disquieting as the night before. She sucked her teeth the way she would in their 'I dare you' days but kept her hands tucked deep in her jacket pockets and wouldn't make a move toward him.

"Hi," Stiles reversed down the steps without turning around, looking a little robotic while he did it. He cleared his throat and looked around, waiting to see if any of her cronies or his friends would pop up and interrupt. The tenseness in the air between them pole vaulted between clash and play, while they remained fascinated with the sight of each other.

"Erica." Stiles said and his voice peaked slightly, he brought it down immediately trying to mask his surprise, "I still can't believe you're alive. You look- you look good. I mean you always looked- but you look, like okay."

"Are you happy I'm alive or that I'm hot?" Her eyes crinkled in that near laughing way she had.

"I've been waiting for you to turn up," he ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat to get back on task.

"Oh really?" she stepped a little closer and lowered her voice to keep in line with his. "Why's that?"

"I wanted to thank you," he watched her face for a reaction, memorizing her big dark eyes and wide smile framed in cunning cherub waves of gold. Licking his lips in nervousness, when there was no recognition behind those searching eyes, Stiles braved on. "For what you did for all of us on Northbridge."

"Ohh," she scoffed and looked away, her realization was hard hitting. "The dying thing."

"If you didn't distract when you did, the rest of us wouldn't have gotten through. I've been wanting to say that for a long while." He bit his lip and stood in front of her suddenly, his hands clenching and unclenching. "So..."

"So, you said it," she shrugged. He couldn't sense any ease or upset from her, just the usual sort of twisted humor. Nothing cruel, just something brewing underneath. "Do you feel better?" She smiled.

"No? Yes? I'm not sure I was supposed to so much as I just wanted to say it." His face screwed up in confusion.

"Good job, then." Once Erica gave his shoulder a hearty pat Stiles started to laugh. And her smile started to soften a little. "I'd do it again... don't look so shocked. You'd have done the same thing too if you were in my shoes."

"Maybe." He exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck and deflated a little upon reflection of his time spent as a camper in the Preserve. As an observer rather than a doer.

"Or maybe something just as stupid?" She suggested, wryly tilting toward him a little.

"Can't you just let me say 'thank you'?" Stiles shook out of it, closing his eyes and grinned a little.

"You're welcome." She nodded, put away the flickering images of that night and wrap it with a bow of his gratitude, marked with a note of never to be addressed.

Together they sensed and looked towards Isaac as he exited the Stilinskis' home, weighed down with a leather jacket and coat over his usual cardigan and his school backpack stuffed to the brims. Isaac made a concentrated effort not to look in their direction and made a beeline toward a motorcycle parked curbside.

"Erica, you're not taking Isaac." Stiles glared at her, while she moved to put her body in his line of sight.

"What do you care?" sighing Erica pursed her lips. All light-heartedness lost from her tone of voice, "If he wasn't made part of your pack, if you hadn't felt like he was forced on you to begin with-?"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to just let you take him," Stiles low growl cut her off.

"But I want him Stiles, and you don't." Erica growled back, her eyes turned fierce and hard. Her teeth gnashed, she had a way of looking animalistic without changing. It made Stiles feel less than, it made the animal in him want to unfurl and she knew just how to antagonize him, to make him feel weak and wrong. "Plus, at least he wants me."

"I never said that about him! I'd never say that about you!" Stiles leaned forward, practically looming over her, his nails bit into the palm of his hand. "Is this like formal notice? You guys are quitting the band?!"

"We're going someplace you can't follow," Erica's voice commanded, as she started to step back. Not out of fear but because they were getting ready to go. His pack was leaving him, again.

"I could try," desperation gave Stiles' voice reverberation. His limbs prepared to run after them.

"It'd be really hard without this," Isaac said calmly. Then Stiles saw stars, smelled oil and felt the carburetor of his Jeep smash hard into the side of his head.

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Track 15 – Haunting by Halsey

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{Dawn – Jogger's Trail, Behind the University}

Without any light in the night sky, without the moon shine, the stars seemed like fireflies that flickered brighter and disappeared quicker behind the swaying branches. He didn’t know how anyone could go down roads like these, on nights like this. He drove his cruiser at 5mph and still held his breath at every lurch it gave on the bumpy earth road. The Jogger’s Trail behind the University grounds weren’t meant for vehicles. They were meant for Joggers, but once the call came in ‘Another Possible Body Found’, he felt like a ghoulish ambulance chaser with how quickly he ran to deal with it.

He was supposed to be going off-duty. He was supposed to be heading to bed. The Chief ordered him specifically to go straight home to catch up with some sleep, but when Deputy Graeme got the call, he snatched it out of her hand. The staticky call It sounded like a kid, it could be a prank, he could check out its validity on the way home, he insisted. He just had a gut feeling about it.

Deputy Graeme didn’t mind when she saw the location, it certainly seemed like one of the Uni students were up to no good again. She barely got a chance to clock in before some punk kid wanted to send her digging through dirt in her freshly pressed uniform. No, thank you.

Deputy Parrish readied himself for the worst, but first, coffee. After a brief detour to grab some from the apartment, he felt better equipped to go into the woods and confront the moonless dark.

The warped red flash from the Mars light on top his cruiser occasionally made the woods look like they were on fire, his high beams were like needles pinpointing inches ahead of him in the road. The New Moon draped an incredible darkness throughout the woods but an inexplicable feeling, like being drawn towards the answers he’d been searching for, kept him focused and unafraid. Maybe the murderer slipped up and reveal their identity? Maybe he’d see the Coyote again? Or a bestial Monster?

He brought the car to a standstill when the lights struck the shape of person slumped against the tree. But she wasn’t dead, just asleep. Worried, he hurried out of the driver’s side, she gave a big yawn as she came to stand and grabbed her backpack that she’d been using as a pillow. She waved with a phone in hand but didn’t smile, she wasn’t tired so much as worried and Parrish rushed over to meet her.

“Lydia?” he should have known to add her to the list of mysteries to expect in the woods, on a dark spooky night. “Are you okay?”

“Deputy Parrish,” she said his name like a sigh of relief, “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I should have called, but I couldn’t ignore it.”

He helped her over the last few tripping roots onto the Jogger’s Trail and towards the cruiser. Towards safety. He held onto her hand, “I’m sure whatever reason you called is a good one. You have a gut instinct that can’t be ignored.” He locked her gaze in a way that made her pause, which made her consider if maybe he was psychic. “You’re trembling. How long have you been out here?”

“Ah? A while,” she let go of his hand and looked around, briefly confused, “I was walking home and ended up here.”

“You got lost?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“I’ve got something that’s sure to help. Com’ere,” he walked her around to the passenger seat and held the door open for her. She had bits of dirt on one side of her body from leaning on the side of the tree, she must have been waiting there for a long while to have fallen asleep against it.

He hurried into the driver’s seat, slammed the door closed and turned on the heat. “Here! This ought to work,” he lifted a carrier with two cups of coffee. It was impossible to read the many emotions that passed over Lydia’s face before she gingerly picked one of the two cups and sipped at it expertly. She’d somehow known which one was his and the meant for her. She analyzed the carton as she swallowed slowly and sighed, letting its warmth sink in.

“How did you know that’s my favorite café?”

When Parrish picked up his usual black, Americano for himself, not sure what possessed him to also get the Cortado. She looked alert and revived. She looked very different from the bold, red lipped, vixen that sashayed into the Station last time. She looked like a wood nymph, deceitfully delicate.

“Coincidence,” he answered blankly, she cocked a brow at that and took another sip. “Honestly, ‘Lil Den Café’ is across the street from my apartment.”

That unsettled something in her, she leaned back in the chair and warmed her hands on the cup while side eyeing him. “It’s ‘Den Lille Havfrue’, not Lil Den. There’s no way you live next to that café, I’m there all the time and we’ve never run into each other.”

“Scouts honor,” Parrish put up to fingers in a pledge and Lydia quickly pushed his hand back down.

“Of course, you’re a Scout,” she laughed, and put her cup down to keep from spilling.

He grinned, took up his coffee cup in salute. “That Café might be my favorite place in all of Beacon Hills.” She didn’t agree so much as grunt, but it was obvious she felt the same. “So, if you drove all the way north to a gas station instead of south to your favorite café and found two dead bodies earlier this month … and now you’re walking deep into the woods in the wrong direction to head home, I’m inclined to ask, Lydia have you found another dead body?”

Having not taken a sip, she still gulped and nodded. Then answered, “not yet.”

That left him very confused. “What does ‘not yet’ mean?”

She shrugged and looked genuinely out of words, “I’ve got a feeling the same as before. When we drove over the Industry Bridge that time. When I came by here, I just knew there’s a body out there but--”

“Okay, I believe you.” Parrish reached over and held her hand, “we’ll find it toge--”

“Oh no, I’m not doing that! You’re the trained professional, you find the bodies,” she leaned back and adjusted the seat to emphasize, she was making herself comfortable, and had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

That left him a feeling a little lost at sea.

“Lydia, I get it. This is hard work to confront whatever this is that you do. If I could take on that burden for you I would,” his reassurance made her upset, not because he was disappointing her but because he was being honest. “I can only share it with you. If you point me in the right direction,--”

“Why do you believe me?” she said quietly, “you don’t question why I show up in places where people have been brutally murdered?”

He smiled, “do you have a satisfactory answer for that?” after a thoughtful pause she shook her head. “Neither do I. But I sense you’re trying to help. I can work with that.”

She looked towards the black landscape, sighed deeply and believed it would take forever. “You are an unusual on Deputy Parrish.”

“From you, I take that as a badge of honor,” he said kindly, glancing back she caught his smile and mirrored it.

They exited the car together and walked along the Jogger’s Trail, for a little while stayed within the beams of the headlights. There were so many tracks on the ground from runners before, there were no clear identifiers of one set of footsteps to follow.

After they walked over an incline any source of light was truly gone. In the seconds it took for to Lydia pull up her iPhone to use it as a light a shape of Coyote hovered on a stone slab overlooking them. Lydia clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting, as quickly as Parrish put himself between them, he had his weapon out and at the ready. The Coyote looked at her with a deep recognition that Lydia frankly was getting used to. Might as well test the boundaries. Lydia walked off the Jogger’s Trail and with a flurry of friendliness, it rushed over to smelled her everywhere. Her arms, legs, hair. She pawed at her ankles, yelped, and hopped on her hind legs to almost knock her to the ground in play.

Parrish and Lydia were trying every plea and command to get her to calm down and stop.

“Don’t dogs listen to German words? I don’t know any German words?”

“That’s trained dogs. This isn’t just a dog. I have a dog, maybe she’s smelling my dog?” it didn’t make sense to Lydia, there was no reason she could think of for the girl to not understand her.

“Is there repellent you can use?” Parrish flustered, circling the Coyote circling Lydia.

“I’m not macing an innocent animal!” then she quieted abruptly.

She’d said that on instinct, but there was no proof this girl was innocent, in fact the bestiary informed her of the opposite. It taught the physical blue-eyed characteristics alone meant the Coyote killed before. By the fact that they were looking for a dead body and she coincidentally appeared, was suspicious. By that argument, Lydia had also been associated with finding corpses for a long while.

Of all the commands she could think of to get things under control, only one word came to mind, and she put all the strength her voice could command behind it, “Halt!”

The Coyote dropped her hind quarters and sat obediently, panting desperately to have permission to get a move on. Parrish looked on surprised and came to Lydia’s side, “how’d you know that would work?”

She shook her head, kept her eyes trained on the shapeshifter and spoke to the man, “we don’t have time to figure that out right now.” Both she and the Coyote glanced towards the gun still in his hand, “you won’t need that.”

He thought about questioning her again but had an instinct he wouldn’t get a clearer answer. The Coyote no longer looked at Lydia but panted towards Parrish and whined loudly, pressing her nose towards him and pawed the ground. Tapetum Lucidum, the way light reflected brightly in those k-9 eyes, then turned from brown to electric blue and Parrish put down his gun with a smile.

“Oh, Hi again. It’s funny running into you,” he stayed between the Coyote and Lydia. She clung to him, her nails dug into his arm and the Coyote moved a little closer. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

“What the hell is going on?” she whispered loudly, shuffling to moving constantly on the side of Parrish furthest from the Coyote.

“I’ve met this guy before,” Parrish waved cautiously towards the Coyote then hesitantly stepped closer. “On the night of the blackout, he helped me, I think. Would you mind getting some proof of him? A photo, video, anything?”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed, she tried to steady her hand while using her phone to take photos, and a brief video. “Her. This Coyote is a lady. She’s young for someone so large, she’s young and for her eyes to be--.” She stopped speaking aloud when she realized some of the notes, were things she didn’t want Parrish to hear.

She stopped taking pictures and watched Parrish engaged the Coyote for a long while.

“Alright, Doctor Doolittle?” Lydia aimed phone light at Parrish, “she’s waiting for you to move it.”  

He wanted to argue that the Coyote was more obedient to Lydia’s instruction, but she wasn’t wrong, the Coyote was waiting for him to follow her lead into the woods. Despite their suggestion, Parrish kept his gun out, but aimed down. They walked quickly to keep pace with the animal as she led them over a hill covered in roots and dead leaves. She stopped abruptly near a mound, where a partially revealed body lay under fragments of leaves and dirt. She pawed at it, unearthing it.

Parrish asked for Lydia to aim the light closer for him to see, as she did, she took pictures of the scene without him noticing. Lydia felt a cold hand along the length of her spine and when she looked around the shapeshifter was gone. Just as well. One mystery at a time.

“Looks like he tripped and fell, she how he’s positioned. He must have been running away from something. He would have had a better chance if he stayed on the path,” Parrish noticed the twisted shape of the teen’s ankle, tear at his sweats on the ankles and caked dirt on his shins. Lydia zoomed in and noted that as well, there was no scratched and blood marked there. But she noticed there was liquid nearby, something dark like motor oil. “He’s not dead,” Parrish’s voice said with a surprised relief in his tone. Lydia didn’t feel relief at all when he wiped the debris away from his face.

“How can he be alive?” she hesitated taking photos, she looked Parrish in the eye and didn’t feel hope. She felt a dread. How unlikely, but then she hadn’t had a vision just a headache. Was she meant to prevent this? “Who is this guy?” She came closer to this face, bringing the bright light with her and zooming in the picture. She saw the black liquid at the corner of his mouth, she noticed the tear and bite mark at the rib cage under the left of his arm. He still wore team attire. She sighed, her doubt was answered, her disappointment realized, “This is #9 Defense, Liam Dunbar.” She pitied him, he was never going to get off the bench.

“He must have been desperate to come out here and train alone so late at night,” Parrish muttered, she didn’t doubt. Monsters liked to prey on the desperate.

Across the body from her Parrish tried to call it into the Station but his walkie-talkie was outside of range. He called her name several times, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Freshman. His breathing was imperceptibly shallow, it sounded like he had fluid in his lungs. She knew nothing would make him breath normally again, not anything that should be hoped for.

A hand on her shoulder pleaded for attention, “let’s go back to the car.” Slowly she came to follow, looking back several times to the place Liam lay poisoned and dying. He wasn’t dead yet, but she knew she hadn’t gotten there early enough to prevent his death either. His body was rejecting the bite. Exhaustion struck her like a wall and over the last hill back, and Parrish had to guide her by hand.

In the car, she warmed up in the seat, finished her coffee while he called in an 11-41 and then watched her worriedly. He didn’t ask the question he wanted to, ‘if she was okay’. Obviously not.

“What’s a 11-41?” she said when she wanted him to stop worrying over her.

“Ambulance needed,” he explained, “at least I don’t have to call in 10-54. Possible-dead body.”

She smiled a little, it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure. But shouldn’t you go back and wait by him to keep wild animals from getting to him.”

He shrugged, “I have a feeling the Coyote won’t allow that. Thanks for your help. I hope I’ll never need it again.”

She huffed at him and looked towards the dark woods where Liam lay dying, “he shouldn’t be alone. We can go back.”

“You shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger all the time,” he grabbed her hand and pulled the cup away. She looked confused until he pointed out the brown on the back of her knuckles wasn’t dirt but bruising from smashing a door apart. “Have you thought about taking self-defense course?”

 She blinked in surprised then smiled genuinely, “that’s something to consider. Are you offering classes?”

“Honestly, I’ve been taking on a lot of off-duty jobs lately,” he grinned when dispatched confirmed that the ambulance was in route and would be there within minutes. They just had to wait there together. “I mean technically I’m off-duty right now. So, what’s another role?”

They don’t exactly make an agreement, but it remains highly likely. She’d been near-death, escaping death and perusing death for a while. Confronting danger, with or without Werewolves around her might be easier if she not only honed her Banshee skills but her physicality, it’s not like Swim Team was going to help any.

When the ambulance arrived, her body sagged in relief, she’d been holding onto more tension he let on. Parrish insisted she wait for his return, he wanted to escort her home. If there was a part of her that wanted to refuse, to strut off it was exhausted and not sure it would survive the hour-long walk to Aires East, not to mention she was curious if Liam would even make it to the ambulance alive.

She slept through Liam’s retrieval. She slid low in the seat, her head turned toward the driver’s seat and her knees curled underneath her. She looked just as peaceful in the passenger’s seat as she had slumped against the tree, it seemed impossible to imagine she had nightmares.

The Deputy slid into the driver’s seat and tapped her shoulder gently to wake her, she stirred at a jump, “What’s going on? Who else died?” She looked around disoriented, gripped the chair and dashboard to pull herself upright.

“Hopefully no one, thanks to you,” he laughed, her bright green eyes took a moment to focus, before she smiled to recognize his face.

She glanced at the brightening sky, then took out her phone, “I need your number.” It was becoming dawn and there would be a reckoning.

“Pardon?”

She shoved over her phone for him to input his number, the moment he did she quickly sent out a text and his phone rang a second later.

“Deputy Jordan Parrish, how can I help you?”

“Jordan?” Lydia laughed in his direction, chiding his officiousness.

“Hello Deputy, is my daughter with you?” Natalie Martin commanded an answer.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Has she been under your supervision this evening?"

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Fine. Next time would you inform me when my underaged daughter is in your custody earlier, so I’m not left to worry about all night?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Lydia chuckled at the stiffness of his posture and tone with each repeated answer.

“Would you kindly get her home soon so ready and on time for school in the morning?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“So, help me, I have the Sheriff on speed dial--”

“Yes, Ma’am, I will hurry her back in a flash.”

She hung up before he finished his assurance and he looked to Lydia in wide-eyed fear. He buckled up his seat, turned on the Mars light and started the car in a rush.

“Careful there Jordan,” Lydia laughed, as took air over a bump, and thudded onto the path. “You’re off-duty, the last thing you want to do is wipeout in the middle of the forest right now with a civilian in the passenger seat. I already unsettle everyone at the Station as it is.”

“Lydia Martin,” he gripped the wheel, and focused on the path, “if I say I’m getting you there safe, no matter what anyone says, I’ll get you there safe.”

After a peaceful, woodsy rhythmic drive they hit the paved road and came out feeling comfortable in each other’s company, more than they had before. He knew she wouldn’t question him about how strange that Coyotes presence was, and she knew he wouldn’t judge her about finding another body or her being unafraid of how gruesome it was.

“Thanks for helping identify Liam. If you didn’t get us out there, we wouldn’t be able,--” he started but she gave him a pointed look.

“I wasn’t the only one drawn there,” she reminded. “Anyone could have come out there to meet me, but it was you.”

He had demanded the complaint when the call came in. “I had a feeling,” he said, with a soft uncertainty. He glanced over at her through the rearview and her expression seemed thoughtful. She wasn’t judgmental, she didn’t have all the answers either.

“I think we both know it wasn’t chance that made the Coyote come to help you, Jordan.” She paused thoughtfully and came at it from a different angle, “with a name that means ‘to flow towards’, like the Jordan River.”

“That’s certainly a lot to expect from an old family name,” Parrish laughed, and she smirked at his nervous response. “How do you know all that?”

“I read, a lot.” In easy peace they drove the last 20-mins to Aires East. The clear and bronze colors of the dawn sky made the columns at the front of her home seem like a daunting palace battlement. Although intimidated, Parrish raced around the car to get her door.

“I can stick around and escort you to school, make sure you get there safely.”

“Jordan,” she said his name with surprising kindness, “I think it’s about time you caught up with some sleep. I don’t think things are going to get any less strange anytime soon.”