A/N: Hello again, my lovely readers! I'm excited to finally start this new story, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Just for future reference, in this fic, seasons 1-3b take part in 2013, season 4 in 2014, and we'll see about season 5 when it comes out. I'm writing this here so you guys know, and also so I have it written down somewhere. Cool.

I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.

The light breeze blew my hair around my face as I strolled down the dark street, the night silent, save for the crickets chirping in the background. I had left the house a half hour ago, too wound up from packing and Josh's new phase – singing every conversation he had to the tune of classic rock anthems – to stay in that house any longer. I figured, of all the things I'd done this summer, all I'd accomplished, there's still one thing that I hadn't done in three years. So I decided, on my last night in Nashville, on my last night in my childhood home, that I would visit the site of my mom's death.

I know it sounds horrible and a really unnecessary thing to put myself through, but there was something, some background part of my brain, telling me that it was something that I needed to do. I don't know if it would help me get some closure, or if I would sense something there, something the average people wouldn't sense, but instead of relocating to the attic with my headphones and a notebook like I used to do here whenever I was stressed or upset, I found myself staring at the very spot where my mom's car stood, where she took her final breaths.

Well, that's not necessarily true. We never found her body, and while the police never outright said that the 'animals' that had attacked her had probably dragged her body into the woods where they could continue mauling her in peace, we all knew it was likely. And now that the 'animals' had become people, moving her body seemed a lot more plausible, and a lot less messy.

I guess I like to think she took her final breaths here, and not out in the woods while afraid and in pain. I like to think it was quick, and virtually painless. That they'd gotten her with one bite, or one clawed hand, and she hadn't felt a thing. That she was gone before she even truly realised what was happening to her, in the end. That idea was so much more comforting than the reality could ever be.

I'd visited her grave once or twice that summer, but it felt like a waste of time. I know people always say that the people you grieve aren't there, not really, that their soul left their body and is walking around with us, or someplace better, or starting a new life. But my mom isn't at that grave in any sense. We buried a beautiful, white, empty casket, and her body is probably rotting somewhere in the middle of nowhere, waiting to be found by an unsuspecting hiker or a wild animal. And knowing that sucked.

So instead of going back on our last night, as Daddy and Josh had done a few hours ago to lay some flowers, I came here, to the last place on earth that I knew she saw. It was eerie, seeing it like this. After three years of incredibly vivid nightmares, I had become so used to this particular stretch of road, to the trees, to the grassy embankments on either side. It felt like I'd walked this road a million times, and yet this was the first time I'd ever truly been here. It was odd, and exciting, and slightly mystical, yet I still felt absolutely nothing. I thought I'd feel something, at least. A twitch, a cold shiver, goose bumps. But there was nothing, just the same warm breeze that I'd felt the entire way here. I can't remember the last time I'd been so disappointed.

I flopped down onto the sidewalk, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I don't know what I'd been expecting, really. I mean, sure, I could start a fire with the slightest of hand twirling now, and crafting elixirs had become second nature to me, but my mom was still dead. Whatever happened after death, she wasn't here anymore, and that was a good thing. She was at peace.

For some reason, telling myself that didn't ease the ache in my chest.

I barely looked up from the hole I was glaring into the road as a familiar truck rolled to a stop a few feet to my right, and my uncle Drew jumped out. He sighed as he dropped down beside me, resting his elbows against his knees.

"A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here all on your own at this time of night," he chastised gently, shaking his head at me.

"It's 8 o'clock," I pointed out, a small smile on my face.

"It's 8 o'clock and dark."

"It's only dark because of the trees," I argued, lifting a hand to point at the thick canopy of branches above our head. "There's a pretty good chance the sun is still up if we're looking in the right direction."

"Have you always talked back this much?" Drew asked me, leaning back a little to survey me.

"No, I grew into it," I said, and he laughed a little. I liked it when he laughed; he never looked more like Mom than when his face lit up like that.

"You just make sure you don't give that kind of cheek to your daddy," he ordered, nodding his head once. "You already got me in trouble for taking you to Virginia last month."

"I really didn't think he'd mind that much," I tried in my defence.

As expected, Drew simply raised an eyebrow at me. "Maybe if you'd actually told him we were going before we were already half way there, you might have known he would have."

"And where's the fun in that?" I asked him, widening my eyes innocently as he tried, and failed, not to smile.

"You did really well this summer, Amber," Drew said, his smile turning fond and proud. "You did better than I ever could have expected."

"I'm a prodigy, I know," I said with a smile.

"I'm serious," Drew continued, tipping his head at me. "You did me proud, darling. You did your mama proud, too."

I looked away for a second, blinking away the sting in my eyes and twisting my lips. "You think?" I finally said, looking back up to Drew with what I was sure was a pathetically hopeful expression.

"I know," he answered, nodding. He cleared his throat. "I think she'd be pretty proud of me too," he said, tipping his head. "She couldn't have taught you better if she'd taken a class in it."

I snorted. "Sure," I mocked, giggling when he elbowed me gently in the side.

"Come on," he said, getting to his feet and holding out his had to help me up. "You've still got some packing to do."

"Can I pay you to do it for me?" I begged as he hoisted me up and lead the way back to the car. He snorted.

"You ain't got a chance in hell, darling."

"Then I have another favour to ask you."

"I don't like the sound of that," I heard him mutter as I paused on the passenger side of the car, peering over the bonnet at him. I smiled, all false innocence, and he knew it.

"Could you convince Daddy to let me get a tattoo?"

Drew seemed to think about it for a second, and my eyes widened in excitement. Then he pinned me with his trademark eyebrow raise.

"Darling, that dog will never hunt."

"Really, Wilson?" I heard Jackson chuckle as I bounded down the porch steps to meet him a few hours after we finally got home the next day. I frowned at him, and he nodded at the boots on my feet. "No cowboy hat to match?"

"No, I still ain't unpacked that yet," I answered, the both of us knowing I wasn't even joking. He smiled, and when I finally reached him he hugged me so tight my feet came off the floor. I didn't even mind that I could barely breathe. "How was your summer?"

"The same since my visit last month," he said, finally setting me back down on the concrete of our drive. "Although, the last full moon was a total bitch."

"I thought you were doing okay with the full moons?" I questioned, slightly worried. I knew Derek had spent the summer teaching Jackson everything he needed to know to control his new werewolf urges, but he'd been quick to pick it all up. The guy had a lot of anger in him, and that apparently helped. Somehow.

"I was, I've been fine," Jackson explained, shrugging. "But then Dad started talking about us moving."

"Moving?" I repeated, my eyes widening. "You can't move."

"I know, that's what I said, but he was pretty adamant for a while. Apparently, London was looking very appealing after I 'died'."

"London?!"

"Calm yourself," Jackson ordered, and I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. There's no way in hell I was letting my best friend move to London. Being in Nashville for the summer sucked, but at least we were still in the same country. Screw that, the same continent. "I managed to talk him down from that ledge, we're not moving." I blew out my breath, closing my eyes in relief. "But he was pretty serious about it for a while, and the stress and the worry of that, along with the full moon... it was a bad month, that's all."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have freaked, like you just did," Jackson said, lifting a hand to gesture at me. "I didn't want you to worry until I knew it was really happening. And now it's not, so it's all good."

I hummed, narrowing my eyes at him. "I don't like it when you keep things from me."

"It was for your own good," he argued, raising an eyebrow. "Now come along, Wilson. I'm in the mood for a run."

Running, of course, was much easier for Jackson now, and resulted in me essentially chasing him through the trees of the preserve, hearing his laughter at my sad attempts of catching up to a supernaturally fast werewolf echoing back to me.

I lost him at one point, and I stopped, grinning and feeling like a child again, spinning on the spot to try to find him. Eventually, my eyes landed on him leaning casually against the trunk of a large tree with a cocky smirk on his face. Lord, I had missed that smirk.

"Keep up, Wilson," he tut-tutted, shaking his head. "I thought you were good at this running thing?"

"You know I'm better at long distance," I smiled, and he chuckled for a second, before his face dropped and he span around, staring through the trees. "What is it?" I asked him, my own smile fading as I walked up behind him slowly.

"I think I just heard Lydia scream," he muttered, and before I even really had a chance to take that sentence in, to fully comprehend it, he was gone, and I was left alone in the dark to wonder in which direction he even went.

The only reason I finally managed to find Jackson and catch up was because the blaring police sirens and the bright flashing lights led me straight to him. I wandered out of the tree line and onto the road, scanning all of the faces until I found the one I was looking for. I marched over to him and, as soon as I was in striking distance, smacking him across the chest.

"Dude, not cool," I said, glaring at Jackson as he rolled his eyes at me. Then I turned to the redhead he had his arm around and moved in for a welcomed hug. "Glad to see you ain't dead or anything."

"What?" Lydia asked, her voice muffled by my hair. I leant back and glared at Jackson again, my arms coming to cross over my chest.

"Well, when someone says 'I think I just heard Lydia scream' before bolting, you kinda assume the worst," I reasoned, and Lydia smiled a little, leaning back into Jackson's side. I may have been annoyed at being left in the woods alone, but, I mean, come on. He was finally being less of a jackass about his all-encompassing adoration for Lydia, and that was cute. Plus, he heard the woman he loved scream. Anyone would ditch their best friend for that. "So..." I muttered, turning a little to take in the scene. Lydia's new car, a smashed windshield, and a pretty hefty amount of blood. "What the hell happened here?"

"A deer ran into my car," Lydia murmured, shivering. "It was horrible."

"Ran into it?" I asked, looking back at the car. It looked like something ran headlong at it. "Like, from the front?" Lydia nodded. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Lydia said, nodding again. "I mean, there may be some emotional scarring, and I feel there'll be a few deer-related nightmares in my future, but I'm fine." I smiled at her, reaching up to squeeze her arm.

"Amber?" I heard someone say behind me, and I turned with a smile to Allison approaching me quickly with her arms outstretched. I ran into them, squealing a little. "I didn't know you were back."

"We got in this afternoon," I said, squeezing her tightly. "How was Paris?"

"Paris was beautiful," she sang, stepping back before raising her eyebrows at the braid of hair that was hanging over my shoulder. "You grew your hair out."

"Yeah," I nodded, feeling a little shy. It had always been long, until we moved to Beacon Hills. I'd been thinking about cutting it for a while; my mom had always loved it long, used to run her hands through it when we hugged, or if she was helping me style it. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was like I expected to see her behind me, and it became too much. After we'd moved and settled in, Lydia had taken me to her salon and had the stylist cut most of it off. I looked like I was a completely different person, and I loved it. But before the summer, with everything that had gone on with Jackson, and the Argents, keeping my hair short wasn't even on my list of priorities. And then, when I had the chance to chop it all off again, it hadn't felt right. I kinda liked that my hair reminded me of my mom. I liked that I would remember her every time I looked in the mirror, that I would remember what it felt like when she brushed my hair in the evenings. Instead of the sharp pain in my chest, the memories made me smile, and after a slightly teary Skype call with Lydia, we decided the hair stayed.

"I like it," Allison decided, nodding as she lifted a hand to pull on the pigtail. "It's very you. And very cute."

"Ain't they the same thing?" I wondered aloud, and Allison giggled.

"What are you doing out here, anyway? Did Lydia call you?"

I shook my head. "No, I was out with Jackson, and he heard Lydia scream. I've only just managed to track him down, so I apologise for my tardiness."

"Did she tell you what happened?" Allison asked, her face as stricken as Lydia's had been. I nodded. "It was horrid. It just ran straight at us, and when Scott touched it, he said it had been terrified."

"Scott's here?" Allison nodded, jerked her head behind her and turned to lead the way to him. "Are you okay seeing him?" I asked her. From the look on her face, I could assume the answer was a definite no.

"Hey, Scott," she said quietly when she finally reached him and Stiles, stood not too far from where the Sheriff was probably trying to have a private conversation with one of his deputies. Scott perked up at the sound of Allison's voice and spun around. Then he noticed me.

"Amber!" he greeted joyfully, a smile on his face. It was surprising to find that I only felt slightly uncomfortable when he hugged me; we had come a long way. "How was Nashville?"

I took another look around me, before raising an eyebrow at Scott. "Better than Beacon Hills, I can tell you that much."

"We don't exactly set the bar too high," Stiles muttered, grabbing Scott's arm and gesturing back to his dad. Then he turned to me with a smile that told me he had a terrible, terrible idea. "Okay, so no, I'm not going to hug you, but I need a favour."

"I've been home five minutes," I sighed, and Stiles shrugged.

"Get over it," he said, before reaching out, grabbing my arm, and dragging me over to the side of the road.

"Oh, lord, what is happening?" I muttered to myself as we walked further into the trees.

"Well, I figured since you have a link with all things natural, you might be able to figure out our deer-lema," he said, before chuckling to himself. "Get it? Dilema, but it's a-"

"A deer. I got it," I deadpanned. "It just wasn't funny."

"Oh, how I've missed you, Wilson." Stiles stopped walking then, and I peered over his shoulder to see what he was looking down at. A dead deer.

Lovely.

"What is that?"

"It's your 'welcome home' present," Stiles said gleefully. "Now touch it."

"There ain't no way in hell that I'm touching that."

Stiles sighed, frustrated. "Amber, c'mon. If Scott could tell how terrified the thing was, maybe you, with all your witchy know-how, can figure out what it was that terrified it."

"I really don't have that much 'know-how', y'know," I argued, unable to even look at the poor thing. "I'm still kinda new at this."

"But you learnt a lot," Stiles said, and I couldn't really argue. Despite the slight, residual dislike we felt towards each other, we'd kept in touch over the summer. It was mostly for pack reasons; he kept me in the loop on Jackson's training, Peter's weirdness and everything he found on my mom's death (which wasn't much, but the thought was there), and I kept him updated on how my witchy-summer-camp was going. So he knew exactly what I was capable of now. "Take one for the team," he tried, shrugging and smiling encouragingly.

I glared. "You're dead to me," I muttered, before taking a step closer to the thing and gagging slightly. I crouched down, within touching distance of the dead deer, and reached out a hand. There was a thick layer of blood covering its head and antlers, but the rest of its body seemed untouched. "I don't wanna," I whined, pouting as I drew back my hand. Stiles sighed, and crouched down beside me.

"Do you remember that time that I implied you were useless, and you got upset about it?"

"Nothing about you upsets me, Stilinski," I sighed, pointing at him with a warning finger. "Angers me, definitely. Annoys me, undoubtedly. Humours me, occasionally. But you have never, and will never, have enough influence over my life or emotional state to upset me."

Stiles stared at me for a second, before his eyes narrowed. "You get really aggressive when you're backed into a corner, don't you?"

"It's the best defence I have, okay?" I groaned. "Why do I have to be the one to touch the dead thing?"

"Because you're the one with all the mystical powers," Stiles said, and he had a very good point. "And having those powers voids any implications that I will ever make about you being useless ever again."

"That doesn't make touching the dead thing any less gross and probably scarring," I muttered, grimacing. "And what if I do see something when I touch it, and it's more gross and scarring. I can't have another breakdown, Stiles, I can't."

"You're not gonna have another breakdown," Stiles promised, twisting his body around to face me and resting a hand on my arm. "The one you had before was a result of all the things you didn't know, because everything seemed so illogical that you thought you were seeing things, and hearing things, and whatever." What is it with Stiles and making good points tonight? It's annoying. "You've got a handle on all of that now. And we're all here," he added, gesturing back to the road and the police lights with a nod of his head. "You don't have to do this on your own anymore."

I huffed, knowing he was right and hating it. "Fine," I finally muttered, huffing again. Stiles smiled to himself victoriously, and I turned to give him one last glare. "And don't think I can't see straight through that whole 'nice' charade thing you were doing just then," I warned, but Stiles just widened his eyes innocently. "I know exactly what you're up to. You're just lucky it worked." Stiles snorted a laugh, and turned back to the deer.

"So, how do you want to do this?" he asked, his eyes scanning the body. "I know you're not the 'rip off the Band-Aid' type." I pouted again.

"I have a feeling it's rip off the Band-Aid or run away screaming and refusing to ever leave my house again," I said, and Stiles nodded.

"I have a feeling you're right."

I nodded to myself. I can do this, I thought, closing my eyes as I held my hand a few inches off the deer's stomach. It's just a friendly neighbourhood dog that I'm petting, that's all. An alive, friendly neighbourhood dog. There's absolutely nothing for me to be freaked or grossed out about here. And that's not the blood of an adorable wild animal you smell at all, you just have a copper penny stuck up your nose. Yeah, that's all. No bloody dead animals around here. I heard myself whine again, and then I heard Stiles groan, seconds before a weight dropped down onto the top of my hand and forced it onto the deer.

At first, I freaked out. I could feel the short, coarse hair of the deer, the cooling body, and it sent shivers down my spine. But then a second later, it was gone. Instead, I was running. I was running fast through trees, the wind whipping against my face, the occasional stray branch stinging as it hit my skin. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Lord, I was scared. I'd never been so scared in my life. If I weren't running, I'd say I was petrified by the ice-cold fear I felt in my veins, but as it were I just did my best to ignore the fear and my pounding heart and just keep running. There was something coming, I could tell. I didn't know what, but it was powerful, terrifying, and every sense, every nerve in my body was telling me to run, to keep running, to get as far away from this place as possible. So I did. I ran. I ran, and I kept running, not once looking back, not even caring where I was going. As long as I got away from here, that's all that mattered. I needed to get away. I was so frightened, and I didn't know why; I just wanted to rest, to sleep, maybe to cry, but I had to keep running. I needed to keep running. I needed to get away.

When Stiles lifted my hand, it felt like I was being ripped away. It wasn't painful, in the typical sense, but I felt like something was wrong. Like when you take down a poster from your bedroom wall, and there's that one bit of sticky tac that won't come off, like it's ingrained itself into the wall. I was the wall, and the deer, the intense feelings of terror and confusion, those last few moments of its life – they were the sticky tac.

"You okay?" Stiles asked cautiously, ducking his head to get a look at my face as I stared at the animal. I nodded, still thinking about everything I'd just felt. "What happened? Did you see anything?" I shook my head, and Stiles sighed, disappointed.

"He didn't even know what he was running from," I murmured, frowning. "He was so scared, but he didn't know why. Just that he had to get away."

"So it was running from something?" I nodded.

"He. But I have no idea what," I said, finally turning away to look at Stiles. "Which means I touched a dead deer for nothing."

"You figured out that it was running from something," he argued, shrugging and standing up. I took the hand he offered and hauled myself up, brushing off the back of my shorts. "That's not nothing."

"Something tells me you already had a suspicion that was the case," I muttered, huffing.

Stiles nodded, scoffing. "Sure, okay, you're right. But you gave us a definite answer."

"And all for the small price of my sanity," I said brightly, smiling sarcastically before I glared at Stiles and spun around, heading back towards the road. I heard Stiles laugh and follow, but I didn't look back. I didn't want to look at that poor deer again. I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to leave if I did. "Stiles?"

"Yeah."

"What happens to that deer now?" I asked him.

"It stays where it is," Stiles answered, and while it was the answer I was expecting, it definitely wasn't the one I wanted. "Nature will take its course. Why?"

I cleared my throat. "No reason," I lied.

Stiles scoffed. "Sure. Why?"

"No reason," I said again, this time a bit more forcefully as I stepped out onto the road. Stiles jumped in front of me, stopping from walking any further.

"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. I tapped my foot and crossed my arms, not looking at him.

"It's gonna sound stupid," I muttered, and Stiles snorted.

"I've only recently stopped thinking of you as stupid," he pointed out. "It can't be that bad." I pursed my lips, still avoiding his eyes, and he huffed. "C'mon, tell me. You're not gonna sound stupid."

I bit my lip, then sighed. "I just... feel bad for him," I admitted, finally looking at Stiles. He looked confused.

"For the deer?" I nodded, and Stiles just frowned. "Why?"

"Because he was so scared," I said, my eyes widening. "Like, curl up in a ball on the floor and weep, scared. The last thing he felt was utter terror, and probably a lot of pain as his head went through a windshield, and now he's just gonna be left out here, in the woods in the cold and the dark, completely alone, where he can be torn apart by that damn coyote that used to chase me when I went running and Lord knows what else."

Stiles looked at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again. "You feel bad for the dead deer because it's cold out?"

I growled at him.

I'd completely ignored Stiles for the rest of the evening, even during the ride he so graciously gave Jackson, Lydia, Allison and I back to my place, before returning to Scott at the scene of the accident. Jackson had ensured I was okay and not having that breakdown I had been expecting, before driving the girls home.

I'd filled Josh in on what happened, finished my unpacking, listen to Lydia whine about her dog biting her for half an hour and gone to bed, where I spent the entire night dreaming of what I'd seen when I had touched that deer, like it was on replay in my head. When I woke up for the fourth time at 5:17 am, according to my clock, to the same icy, paralysing fear in my chest, I gave up. It was either get up now, or go back to sleep only to dream about that whole ordeal that I didn't even go through again and again.

The former was the much more appealing offer.

I was showered and dressed in a coral dress, a cream cardigan and matching boots by the time Daddy got up to start making breakfast, only to find that I had beaten him to it with pancakes and bacon. He hummed in surprise as I greeted him with a smile and a mug of steaming coffee.

"What did you do?" he asked me. My face dropped open, affronted.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"You're up before me, making breakfast, and smiling," he said, taking a sip of his coffee as he eyed me over his mug. "You did something."

"I didn't do anything, Daddy," I promised, flipping a pancake onto a plate, loading it with bacon and handing it over to him.

"So one summer in Nashville turns you from rebellious teenager to perfect daughter?" he said, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

"You don't have to sound so cynical, Daddy," I sang, shrugging. "I was up early, and I thought I'd make good use of my time."

"But it's the First Day," Daddy said, placing his mug gently next to the sink and crossing his arms across his chest. I nodded, ignoring the small lump forming in my throat.

"I know," I said, shrugging. "It's a sucky day full of bittersweet memories, but why should that mean I spend the day moping and wallowing in my own misery, when I could be making the people I love pancakes?"

"We're having pancakes?" I heard Josh say, and I turned from the stove to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs, his hands twisted in the hem of his pyjama top. "We never have pancakes on the First Day. Not since Mom died."

I nodded again, smiling. "Maybe it's time we do," I suggested with a shrug, looking from Josh to Daddy. "We did a lot of things over the summer I never thought we'd be able to do. We spent the entire summer in the house she lived in, we went to the Bluebird again, I grew my hair out..."

"You picked up a guitar again," Josh added, wandering over to take a sniff at the pancakes. "Dad flirted." The man in question made a move to argue, but he tipped his head in surrender when Josh and I just raised matching eyebrows at him.

"Exactly," I said, gesturing to him in agreement. "So I thought maybe First Day Traditions might be something we could try. But if it's too much, too soon, I could always..." I lifted the pan from the stove, Josh's nose following desperately. "... throw them out?"

"Well, now," Josh stammered, taking the pan from my hand. "Let's not be hasty."

I grinned, pleased with how well that had gone, and caught Daddy's eye. He smiled at me, grateful and kinda proud, I think, before he turned around and started attacking his own pancake.

"Everything went well this morning?" Lydia asked me on our way to Allison's locker after home room, an excited glint in her eye.

"Exceptionally well," I said, nodding. "Aside from the constant deer feed on loop in my head, everything went perfectly."

"Does that mean First Day Traditions are back on?"

"I believe so, yes," I murmured, thinking about it. We'd made no solid plans for this evening, but the pancakes went down so brilliantly, the rest only made sense. I reminded myself to talk to Daddy and Josh about it later, to figure out what they were up for.

"Does that mean party?" Lydia asked, and I rolled my eyes with a smile. Any excuse.

"No, Lyds, that does not mean party," I said, and she groaned, rolling her head back in disappointment.

"Fine," she agreed dejectedly. "Can it mean fun get together? You were away for so long, and I've missed you." I smiled, thinking about it, as we approached Allison at her locker, and Lydia immediately latched onto her arm. "Don't you think a get together after months apart is a good idea, Allison?"

"Don't drag me into whatever it is you're trying to guilt-trip Amber into agreeing to," Allison responded, smiling at us both. "But, off the record, I do. I'd love a couple of hours to catch up, properly, without a dead deer in the mix."

"Can we please not talk about that?" I begged, the thought of that poor animal coming back to mind. It could get really cold here during the night, even at this time of year. Sure, it was dead, and it wouldn't actually feel the cold, but... it was horrible to think of.

"Amber kept dreaming about it, and their weird witchy link," Lydia explained to Allison, who then nodded with wide, understanding eyes.

"Stiles said it really upset you," Allison commented softly, and I rolled my eyes.

"Stiles thinks everything upsets me," I scoffed, leaning against the locker beside me.

"Most things do, to be fair," Lydia said. She quickly pretended she hadn't said anything at all when I turned to her with my eyebrows raised. "So, Allison, about that guy that I'm so not at all trying to set you up with-"

"Wait, what guy?" I butt in, my mind flying to Scott, and how crestfallen he'd look if he found out there was a guy. "There's a guy?"

"There's no guy," Allison said with an amused smile and a shake of her head. "Is there, Lydia?"

"It's not even a real date," Lydia complained, her shoulders slumping as she tried to convince Allison to attend this non-date. "It's just a couple people hanging out."

"And by a couple people, she means me, this guy, and her and Jackson," Allison said with a tilted head. I smirked.

"So a couple, and two other people who totally ain't on a double date?" I clarified, smiling as Lydia turned to me with a face like thunder.

"It is not a double date," she snapped, before turning back to Allison. "It's not."

"It doesn't matter whether it is or not, because I'm not going," the girl argued, shrugging. "You know I'm not ready for that yet."

"And she will respect your decision, won't you, Lydia?" I sang, grinning as I stood upright and placed my hands on Lydia's shoulders from behind her. I didn't need to be facing her front to feel the full force of her glare.

"You'll be respecting my foot up your ass if you don't shut up," she muttered quietly, but from Allison's snort, I think we all heard it.

"Not only is that sentence gross and unladylike, it also makes no sense," I said, shrugging and dropping my hands. "Why would I respect such a thing?"

"Urgh, Amber, I am trying to help a friend in need here."

"This friend isn't in need," Allison responded, closing her locker. "It's okay to be single, you know. Focus on yourself for a little while, work on becoming a better person." Allison shrugged, leant back against her locker to look at us both. "Besides, Amber's single. Why don't you hound her for a while?"

"Thanks, Ally," I said, nodding once. "I really appreciate you passing the torch like that." Allison grinned wickedly, giggling to herself.

"Amber's standards are ridiculously high," Lydia groaned, rolling her eyes. "Trust me, I've tried setting her up. She deliberately tanks every date I've gotten her. Speaking of, how's Brett?"

"Hey, I didn't tank anything in the Brett area," I argued, pointing a finger at Lydia. "He did all the tanking there."

"Why, what happened with Brett?" Allison asked, frowning.

"We haven't talked all summer," I answered, shrugging. It had stung a little at first, but I'd gotten over it. I had more important things to worry about. "I tried, at first, but after a couple of messages that were never answered, I gave up. I ain't gonna waste my time on someone who can't give me two minutes of theirs."

Allison nodded, a determined look on her face. "Yeah, you're better than that. You can bring dead flowers back to life, you don't need a man."

"No one needs a man," Lydia said, tilting her head slightly as she stared past Allison, a distracted look on her face. "It's all about the want."

I stepped up to Lydia, trying to see what she was looking at and Allison following suit, to watch as two leather-clad guys strolled up the corridor towards us.

"Brothers?" Allison murmured, none of us able to look away. Something about them was oddly enchanting.

"Twins," Lydia breathed, a smile in her voice, and that shook me out of the trance.

"Do I need to go and find Jackson, or can you reign this little problem in yourself?"

Lydia rolled her eyes again. "Please," she scoffed, barely looking away from the twins as they passed us to raise an eyebrow at me. "As if I didn't see Jackson checking out the volleyball girls all summer. When you're in a relationship, people are like art in a museum; you can stare all day, if you really want to – just no touching."

"You make a very good point," I murmured, nodding. "Though I've never seen anyone drool over the Mona Lisa."

Allison's face dropped instantly, into one of slight disgust. "I have."

"There's my girls," Jackson said as we approached our first period of the year – English. Lydia pursed her lips.

"It's there are my girls," she corrected. "Plural."

Jackson just pouted muttered 'whatever' under his breath, and swung his arm around her shoulders to lead the way into the classroom. Allison and I stared after them both, smiling.

"Remember when she pretended she was stupid and terrible at everything for his benefit?" Allison said, strolling into class behind me. "As terrible as it sounds, I kind of miss those days."

"Oh, thank the lord," I breathed, spinning of my heel to face Allison and continue walking backwards. "I thought I was the only one. I always knew she was clever, but now that she doesn't care who else knows, I can't ever win an argument with her!"

Allison laughed, feeling my pain, and I dropped my bag onto the floor in the desk next to where Jackson sat in front of Lydia. Allison looked to the empty desk on the other side of mine, and moved towards it, before seeing who sat behind it. Scott.

I gestured down to my desk with a questioning look, silently asking her if she wanted to sit here. She seemed to think about it for a second, but then Scott was looking up at her expectantly, and she couldn't exactly run away anymore. Instead, she gestured towards it with a hand.

"Is someone…?"

"No," Scott answered, and Allison nodded with a smile. "No, no, no." Oh, my lord, Scott, stop. "No, it's all you, it's all yours. Uh, it's totally vacant." Allison's smile turned a little awkward, and she slid into the desk, sending me a smile somewhere between uncomfortable and highly amused. I just snorted and shook my head at Scott when he looked at me with a wince, before turning to shake my head at Jackson. He looked like he'd just won the lottery or something.

I heard several phones vibrating then, as well as a few ringtones, all going off at the exact same moment. I looked around me as Jackson picked up his phone with a frown, Lydia reading the message over his shoulder. Allison frowned over at me, grabbing her own phone, and when I turned to the questioning sound behind me, Scott and Stiles seemed to be having an entire conversation just with their facial expressions. I reached for my phone on the desk to see a text message from a number I didn't know.

The offing was barred-

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness," someone read, and everyone looked up from their phones to see an young woman wander into the classroom, her own phone is hand as she read off the screen. She leant against the desk at the front of the classroom as she surveyed the class with a smile. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone." Jackson groaned beside me, and I couldn't help the little chuckle at his reaction as I switched off my phone and slid it into my bag at my feet.

"We're not even five minutes in, and this class is already a joke," he muttered. I heard a scoff behind me.

"You're a joke," Stiles muttered back, and Jackson growled quietly.

"Clever, Stilinski. I didn't know you were so original."

"Coming from the most stereotypical, clichéd moronic jock I've ever met in my life."

While Miss Blake was busy writing the name of the first book of the class on the board, I turned to Lydia with my eyebrows raised, and she just shook her head at me. I don't know what we're going to do with these two, she seemed to say, and I just shrugged. I was thinking we just lock them in a room together and see what happens. One way or the other, there would be much less arguing between the two.

"You know what else is clichéd?" Jackson asked, completely turning in his seat to glare at Stiles. "Weirdo wanna-be's hanging out in the woods at night burying dead animals."

Wait. "What?"

"It's creepy, Stilinski," Jackson continued, like I hadn't even spoken, but Stiles definitely heard me, if his pained expression when I spun around was anything to go by. "Get a hobby."

"You buried the deer?" I asked him quietly, my eyes wide. He hesitated but finally nodded, sinking in his seat as he did so. "Why?" Stiles just shrugged uncomfortably, like he didn't want any part in this conversation. Like he didn't want to admit that he'd done something nice for me. I couldn't stop the smile, but figured I'd save him any further embarrassment and turn back around, pretending this whole exchange never happened. Then a second later I spun around again. "Thank you," was all I said, and with another quick smile I faced the front, not missing Jackson's over-the-top eye roll. "If you roll your eyes any harder, they're gonna fall right out of your head," I muttered, knowing he would catch it, before focusing on jotting down the stuff on the board in my notebook.

The door swung open a minute later, and the principle walked in to talk quietly with our English teacher. When they both turned to Scott, I turned to look at Jackson, who was already concentrating on what the two were saying. He shook his head at me, letting me know it was nothing to worry about, just as the teacher, Miss Blake, according to the name on the board, called him up to the front.

Scott got up and made his way to her, and as they both strolled out of the classroom, we all turned to Jackson. Allison leant so far forward her arm was on my desk. "His mom called the school," he explained, keeping an eye on the door. "Said it was an emergency, and he needed to leave."

"Did they say anything else?" Stiles asked, in the nicest tone I've ever heard him use around Jackson. "Is his mom okay?"

"Well, if she's the one who called, she probably isn't dead," Jackson snapped, and I rolled my eyes.

"Can you two bicker later, please?" I asked politely, glancing between the two of them. "Preferably when none of us are around to have to deal with it."

"Seconded," Allison said quickly, raising her hand in the air.

"Then it's unanimous," Lydia agreed, smiling at the two of them. "No more talking to each other if you can't talk in a civil manner."

"Fine by me," Stiles muttered, leaning back in his seat. Jackson grunted his approval.

"Oh, hey, Lyds?" Jackson said then, turning to smile sweetly at his girlfriend. "Could you let Stilinski know that I think he's a useless tool."

Allison and I groaned loudly, each of us dropping back into our seats. Lydia just stared at Jackson, like she was doubting every choice she'd ever made that led her to this moment in time, before reaching around and slapping him upside the head. Stiles snorted, but before he could say anything about Jackson's disgruntled face, she turned to him with a glare that told everyone that she was not afraid to do the same thing him. He backed down, turning to his notebook. Smart move.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to resort to violence," she muttered, picking up her pen and resuming her note taking as Miss Blake entered the room again. "But when needs must…"

"What is that?" Stiles suddenly asked, gesturing to her ankle. I looked down to see the Band-Aid covering the bite mark Prada had given her last night. "Is that from the accident?"

Lydia shook her head. "No. Prada bit me," she said quietly, looking over to me with faintly furrowed brow.

"Your dog?" Stiles asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"No, my designer handbag," Lydia shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. "Yes, my dog."

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head again. On the phone last night, I think she'd actually been a little shaken. Prada was a sweetheart, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, she bites Lydia and went so crazy that Lydia and Ms Martin thought it best to leave her outside overnight. She'd actually been pretty upset. "What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer?" Stiles suggested. I turned in my seat, and he gestured at me. "You said it didn't know what it was running from, right? But that it was scared, and freaking out." I nodded. "Maybe Prada sensed the same thing. Maybe it's like how animals start acting weird right before earthquake or something."

"Meaning what?" Lydia asked, tipping her head doubtfully. "There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something," Stiles repeated himself, shrugging. "I just… maybe it means something's coming." He turned to me as he said it, raising his eyebrows. That's what my mom had said, the night of Lydia's party. The night everyone had hallucinated their worst fears, and my mom had had tried to warn me of something. "Something bad."

A/N: And that's the beginning of our newest chapter of Empty Casket. Hope you guys like this sequel. Don't forget, reviews are wonderfully appreciated, and I have links to my Polyvore, Tumblr and Charahub pages are all on my profile.

I'll see you next time, guys.