Chapter Text
They met after the game, Theo and Allison ditching Gerard as soon as they could, with Theo promising to drop Allison off before her ten o'clock curfew. Scott’s house was empty, and so they congregated there, sprawled over the living room.
“A lot has happened tonight,” Allison bemoaned, leaning against Scott on the couch. Her shoulder was flush with his, and her head rested on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her back.
Stiles, rifling through the fridge for something to eat, sighed. “Yeah, I mean, what was up with Boyd? And your freaky grandpa was there, which was great to find out at halftime. I mean, you could have shot us a text so Scott could tune down the wolfy shit. I mean, not that I’m blaming you, I just– I don’t want Scott to be on Gerard’s hit list.”
“I think, with your dad knowing–” Jackson aimed at Allison– “Gerard probably already knows about Scott and Theo, right?” Jackson sat in the armchair, his body loose and heavy. Theo could imagine the soreness that would permeate a human’s muscles after playing an hour of high-performance sport.
Allison shook her head. “My dad and I made a deal. He won't tell Gerard or my mom.”
A deal? Now that was intriguing. “What kind of deal?” Theo asked, tilting his head so he could see Allison’s expression from his position, perched on the armrest of Jackson’s armchair.
“I’m responsible for you and Scott and, in return, Dad doesn’t tell Gerard and Mom what you are.” Allison’s face screwed up into something complex. Her lips pursed and her nose slightly scrunched. She didn’t know how to feel about this deal, which meant that Theo wasn’t sure how much he trusted it.
Allison was responsible for him. That must hurt, especially since… Well, Theo hadn’t been very responsible, in her eyes. He could understand why it was complex.
“Okay,” Theo said as Stiles joined them in the living room with a tupperware of cold mac-and-cheese, squeezing onto the couch on Scott’s other side. “Let's go through the list. What’s up with Boyd?”
Scott shrugged, carefully so as to not dislodge Allison. “He’s definitely supernatural. He smelled way more like you–” he tilted his head towards Theo– “than Isaac did.”
Theo nodded. “He’s definitely a coyote, like me.”
“Right,” Jackson sighed, crossing his arms. “So, we now have two supernaturals to deal with, Isaac and Boyd.”
“I mean, Boyd didn’t seem dangerous,” Scott mused. “He was more… Controlled. I mean, he did have a moment of losing it, but it didn’t stick around long. He had something that pulled him back.”
“An anchor,” Theo supplied.
“Exactly,” Scott finished.
The room went silent for a moment, the only sound being Stiles’ fork against the plastic container.
“Then there’s Gerard,” Allison muttered, her scent going from warm and comfortable to something slightly sour.
Theo nodded, taking over once he realised she wasn’t going to continue. “Right. First of all, Gerard’s been the principal of Beacon Hills High for the past week or so. That’s something we’ll have to consider in the future. We all need to be more wary at school, because if Gerard finds out… We just need to be more careful.”
They all nodded, Allison, shrinking into Scott’s side a bit.
“Also,” Theo continued. “Gerard is going to go after Isaac and Boyd. There’s no way he didn’t pick up on Boyd’s little loss of control tonight, and he’s smart enough to know that Isaac’s the kanima. He’s going to try and kill them, somehow, probably at school if the fact that he’s now the principal has anything to do with it.”
“Well shit,” Stiles voiced the one thing they were all thinking. He was good at that, being the voice of the group.
Jackson’s head tilted to the side, something Theo only knew because he could feel the press of Jackson’s head against his thigh. It was warm. It was a small touch that Theo didn’t know he needed until it happened. It drained the tension out of his skin, the jittery feeling that he’d been ignoring, and the overall on-edge feeling that Theo had found it hard to ditch.
Before all of this, Theo would have concluded that Jackson was a werewolf with black veins travelling through his body. He would have assumed that Jackson was draining his pain, stealing that jittery feeling and dissipating it to nothing. But that wasn’t possible.
It must just be something that Theo had missed out on in life. Human connection was important. He had read more than one study on it while travelling from amphitheatre to amphitheatre. He had never imagined that it would apply to him.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Scott asked, breaking the tense, nervous silence. “We can’t let him hurt them. Isaac and Boyd don’t even know Gerard is after them, right?”
Theo shrugged. He had no idea. “We don’t know what they know. In fact, we don’t know anything about them. We don’t know who bit them, if there’s another alpha in the area or if…” he trailed off.
Peter.
Peter had talked about going after ‘the biggest fish in the pond’ instead of the ‘small minnows,’ or whatever the fuck his fish metaphor had been. Theo had assumed it meant Jackson and had run off to save him, but… What if Peter had been lying, deceiving Theo into doubling down on protecting Jackson instead of seeing the bigger picture?
Outcasts were the easiest to exploit. All they wanted was to be seen, to be understood, to be a part of something bigger. Isaac and Boyd definitely fit that profile. Peter could have bitten them, promised them a pack, to be seen, understood, and heard, and then died before he could fulfil his promises.
“Peter,” Allison whispered, coming to the same conclusion as Theo. “He must have bitten them at some point.”
Scott’s eyes went wide, and Theo knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking that if Peter had bitten them and Peter was dead, then Scott was responsible for them. Scott was Peter’s first beta. He was all that was left of Peter. Scott was going to try to help these kids and feel so much guiltier if they died.
Theo couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Scott blame himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
“That doesn’t change anything,” Scott said, his eyes wide but determined. “We aren’t going to let Gerard kill them.”
He was trapped again. Theo thought it was over- the cycle, the fear, the hand, the reclaiming of what was hers.
But it had all been part of the cycle, hadn’t it? The re-do, the ability to try it all again with forethought, knowledge he never would have had the first go around. It was all part of the cycle.
He was trapped again, the walls of the hospital closing in. His breath quickened, or perhaps he wasn’t breathing– it was hard to tell. Everything felt fuzzy, like he was drugged, or dead.
Theo didn’t mind it, somehow. The pain was sharp in his chest, her eyes pleading and cruel. It wasn’t the girl he remembered. It wasn’t the older sister who had taught him to braid her hair as their parents fought. It wasn’t the sister who played games with him, teaching him Go Fish and Old Maid. It wasn’t the girl who had stared up at him, her eyes accepting, her mouth forming around the words ‘it’s okay.’
He repeated them back to her.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s okay,” he muttered, his eyes blinking open.
The nightmare was vivid and yet faded as the world came back to him. He was in the guest room. He flicked the bedside lamp on, washing the room in a warm glow. The walls were a pale yellow, and the blanket he was wrapped in was light blue, with the smallest flowers stitched through the fabric so the down inside wouldn’t migrate.
He wasn’t in a cold morgue. He wasn’t surrounded by death and destruction. She wasn’t here. The creature with his sister’s face wasn’t here to take something back that never belonged to her.
Still, he couldn’t stay lying down; the pressure on his chest was pushing him into the mattress, urging him to slip back into the darkness of the dream.
He made his way to the kitchen, plodding down the stairs in the flannel pyjama pants that Corey had chucked at him one day, stating that he ‘can’t sleep in those rags forever.’ Theo was grateful for the new wardrobe that Corey was, slowly but surely, sneaking into his room. Clothes without holes in them were fantastic.
Flipping the light on in the kitchen, Theo startled, momentarily surprised by the sight of Corey sitting on the counter in the dark.
“Shit,” Corey mumbled, his hands wrapped around a cup of what smelled like mint tea. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Theo shook his head. He hadn’t even known Corey was awake. He should have known. He should have checked. He should have sensed it.
Corey’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in Theo’s dishevelled state. It was obvious that there was something wrong, but by the look on Corey’s face, he wasn’t going to push it. “Want some tea?”
“Sure.” Theo perched himself on the kitchen island, his legs dangling into nothingness. It was disgusting how small he felt. It was also kind of nice. He resolved to let it happen more often. He was allowed to feel nice sometimes.
Corey busied himself setting up a mug and an electric kettle. They sat in silence as the thing whirred, the water growing grey with all the minuscule bubbles. It boiled with a loud rumble and, wasting no time, Corey poured a cup, moving to sift through the teabags. “Chamomile or mint?” he offered.
“Mint is fine.”
The teabag was added and the mug placed on the counter next to Theo, a bear-shaped bottle of honey next to it and a spoon sitting in the liquid. It was kind, more kind than Theo had been expecting.
Things with Corey weren’t great. They didn’t talk much and, if they did, it was Corey throwing snide or snarky remarks at Theo. Theo could tell he cared. He wouldn’t let Theo live with him and steal his car if he didn’t. Still, sometimes the feeling of animosity was so thick in the air that Theo could choke on it. Right now the anger was gone, replaced with a warm feeling that Theo couldn’t place.
“We should talk,” Corey said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I just– I feel really shitty for being such a dick. I know you didn’t want Peter to die. I know you did your best. I just– He means a lot to me.”
His words sat in the air, warm and fuzzy. Theo hadn’t expected them, and so they conjured a thick weight on his shoulders, a tennis ball in his throat. Corey wasn’t being cruel, though. He was kind, soft, and sweet. All the boy wanted was to talk through the feelings that had settled under his skin.
Theo wasn’t going to deny him that.
“I know,” Theo said, nodding softly. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”
Corey shook his head. “You should be. I think you’re okay with being pushed around. You let it happen, and that makes me really sad.”
It was an echo of something else Theo had heard recently. Someone else had been mad for him, sad for him. It was– Theo had a hard time accepting it. He had never had it before. Why would this be any different? It was illogical, because of course things were different, but that didn’t stop Theo’s mind from rushing through negative thoughts.
“I don’t want you to be sad.”
There was a thick exhale through Corey’s lips before he took a sip of his tea, letting the thoughts form sentences before he said them. “Good.”
Theo took a sip of his tea, the heat burning his tongue, grounding Theo in reality. The softness of the kitchen, bathed in the warm light strip under the cabinets, didn’t feel real before now, like a dream that Theo was floating through.
“Tell me about the Peter you knew. I didn’t get to meet him, and I wish I had.”
A soft, grief-filled smile graced Corey’s face. “He was nice, fun to be around, and good with us kids. He used to throw us over his shoulder, or whisk us through the air like airplanes.” Corey’s eyes went blurry, the salty scent floating through the air. “The thing I miss the most was the way he was with Lea. She was sweet, kind, the best person I knew. I wanted to stay with her forever.” He laughed, something ugly and thick with tears. “I think I even told her, at one point, that I wished she was– I wished she was my mom.
“Peter was so fun with her. He would make her laugh, like the kind of laugh that’s kind of ugly but really beautiful all the same. One day, he made her tea because it was cold out– just, without asking, brought her a big mug of the tea she liked. He always had hot chocolate for us when we came in from playing in the snow.” Corey smiled, the tears finally falling.
Theo wasn’t good at this kind of stuff, comforting and being nice. He tried, though. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was amazing.”
The words hung heavy in the room.
Theo took a sip of the tea, cooler now and less likely to burn his tongue. It had healed fast, but he still felt bad for letting it burn in the first place. Hurting himself wasn’t useful.
“I didn’t know what to do with myself when the fire happened. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was eleven, and I didn’t like my… parents. I spent more time with Peter, Lea and all the kids my age and younger. I didn’t really go home that much either– my parents were never there that much anyway. Lea had a bedroom for me and everything. But the fire happened, and I heard about it on the news, like everyone else. Peter was in a coma, Laura got custody of Derek, Cora was missing, and I just– I didn’t know what to do.”
Theo could imagine it. Corey, small and afraid, realising that everything he ever loved was gone. The people who cared about him, really cared about him, were dead. There was no one to comfort him. There was no one to care about him.
He was alone.
Theo understood that more than he could verbalise.
“What did you do?” Theo asked, both for Corey and for himself. What was he supposed to do if everything he understood was yanked out from under his feet? What did Corey do?
“I didn’t talk for almost a year,” Corey explained, the mug of tea against his lips. “Then I– I don’t know, I just didn’t really need to. I could, I just… didn’t want to. I made a couple of friends at school who didn’t care that I was quiet. They moved away, though. But yeah, I just– I kept going even if I didn’t know how to.”
Theo nodded. “That’s good advice.”
Corey shrugged. “I didn’t mean it to be.”
“It was.”
Corey yawned, his eyes scrunching. “I should probably…”
“Yeah,” Theo agreed. It might have been Saturday night, but Corey was a creature of habit, of a perfect eight hours of sleep and a solid seven a.m. wake-up time. It was two am on Sunday. “Sleep well.”
Hopping off the counter and placing his mug in the sink, Corey slunk off to his room, shooting a mumbled, ‘you too,’ over his shoulder.
The interior of Lydia’s house looked like a Better Homes & Gardens catalogue. Everything was placed with purpose, all of the colours matched, and everything was dressed up like a showroom. It was a stark difference from her bedroom, a place that Theo had only been in once before.
Now, standing in Lydia’s living room, Theo was pretty sure he disliked this version of a home just as much as Jackson’s.
He had knocked on the door, almost bolstered by the conversation he’d had with Corey that morning. She had answered and, without saying anything, stepped aside to let him in.
Lydia Martin did not look like she belonged in this home. She wore jeans and a loose sweater, falling off her shoulder in a way that should look effortless but instead looked dishevelled. That, plus the fact that she was letting Theo in, meant only one thing: she was ready to understand what she was.
She didn’t sit down, and she didn't offer for him to sit down, so they stood in the living room, neither one wanting to speak first.
Finally, Theo caved. “We might want to sit.”
Lydia shot him a sharp look, something that felt less like Lydia and more like fear and anger and get on with it.
“Right,” he muttered, inhaling sharply at the memories that Lydia’s look brought up in him. It reminded him of a bug under the microscope, a feeling he’d experienced thousands of times through his life. The itch under his skin grew, strong enough to make him feel like running until he passed out. “Fuck, okay. Let me start with the easy part.”
Her eyebrow rose in a perfect arch. She still didn’t speak, but he could tell that she didn’t believe that was possible.
Honestly, he wasn’t sure it was possible. There was no easy part of this in the same way there was no good starting spot.
“I don’t know where to start,” Theo acquiesced.
“At the beginning. It’s usually the best place,” Lydia finally spoke, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
He shook his head. “There is no beginning to this one.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong with me.”
He inhaled, the harsh scent of her fear, apprehension, and dread flooding his lungs. He had to exhale again before he could speak. Theo wanted to say ‘there’s nothing wrong with you,’ but he knew she’d respond to that with anger. He probably would too. It was true, but false at the same time.
“In Gaelic mythology, you would be called a Banshee. Closer to death than to life, you prophesize death and can connect with the spirit world.”
Lydia’s eyebrows both raised, a scent of disbelief ripped through the room. The corners of her lips twitched upwards. She didn’t believe him, not that he was surprised. “Prove it.”
He couldn’t, and she knew that. “There’s no way to prove your abilities. It’s inside of you, not me. But you’ve been seeing things you can’t explain, losing time, and you don’t know why. Right?”
Her eyebrows dropped, her jaw twitching with something akin to anger. It was true, he could tell. Not only because he knew it was true, but because her eyes had widened a fraction.
“It’s genetic, but it has to be awakened. Your brush with death did that–”
“My grandmother had it,” Lydia interrupted, her eyes far away. “Everyone thought she was crazy. We put her in Eichen House. She– she wasn’t crazy?” Her voice was small, as if she had been jolted back to the age she was when that happened.
Fuck. He didn't know that. He didn’t know that what he’d done to her was far worse than he had known it to be.
“I don’t know, Lydia. I’ve never met her. I have to assume… Usually a brush with death, something that brings you closer to death than life is enough to awaken the Banshee.”
She sat down, her legs looking unsteady. “Tell me more. How do you know about all of this?”
It was a complicated answer, but Theo was willing to figure out how to tell her. “I’m a were-coyote. I spent a lot of time learning about the supernatural world. I know a lot because I learned a lot.”
A sharp laugh left her mouth. “A were-coyote. Are you serious? Oh my god, you’re insane. You’re seriously insane, Theo. I can’t believe–”
He shifted his eyes, the piercing yellow shifting his vision. He could see her heartbeat ticking up. He could see her body heat rising. She was afraid.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered. And then, something Theo didn’t expect, she burst into tears. Her shoulders shook as her hands came up to wipe at her eyes. Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in air.
Theo was still standing over her; he realised, and pulling his shift back, squatted down in front of her. He made himself smaller than her and didn’t try to touch her. He didn’t want to scare her more than she already was.
As her sobs began to peter out, she moved her hands away and, seeing his face, a thick sob ripped through her throat. “Oh fuck. Theo. Fuck.”
He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do. He assumed there wasn’t. She was definitely afraid of him, or afraid of something. The fear permeated the room, along with a thick sadness. Theo kept his hands to his side, not wanting to freak her out further.
When the sobs stopped for the last time, Lydia peeked out from behind her hands. “I’m not scared of you. You should know that.”
The words shot through Theo’s body, something sharp and piercing. He didn’t dwell on it.
“I’m just– God, Theo– I’m so scared of what this means. I’m stuck with these blackouts, with the people that no one else can see, and with the impulses that take over my entire body? I have to deal with this forever?”
Theo sighed. “Yeah. Look, I hate to say this, Lydia, but this is your life now. You have two options. You could ignore them. They’ll get worse, and you might end up being taken over by them. Or you could live with it.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for it. Can I get rid of it?”
It was the same as with Scott. “This is your life, Lydia. There’s no going back. It happened. It’s what you live with. Think of it as a chronic illness; it’s going to become a part of your life. You’ll get used to it eventually, but right now, it's new, and it’s scary, and you fucking hate it. That’s okay. Grieve the life you thought you’d have.”
She shook her head, her loose ponytail growing looser, dropping a few strands of hair.
“But this is your life,” he continued. “You can become a scientist, a mathematician, a physicist. You don’t need to lose everything just because of the visions."
Lydia exhaled. “Okay.” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, thinking through her words. When it finally hit her, she looked down, making eye contact with him. “Okay. Tell me the rest.”
And he did. He told her about January. He told her about Allison’s family, Scott's bite, Peter: what he was, what he did, and his death. He told her about Kate, the Hale family, the fire and the death. He told her about her romp in the woods, how close she was to death and how they brought her back with Allison’s voice. He told her about Gerard, the kanima, Isaac and Boyd.
He told her everything, and then, with her eyes sharp and her lips pursed in a thin line, they made a plan.