"The answer is seven."

Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper in his ear, but Liam still jumps half out of his skin at the sound, earning a confused look from Mason, who's sitting in the seat next to him. He shrugs the movement off with an awkward smile, waving vaguely towards his ears. Hopefully Mason thinks it's to do with his werewolf hearing, and not the invisible girl only Liam can see-

Who's now crouching in front of his desk with a victorious smirk on her face.

He glares at her - only quickly, just in case - before returning to his maths test. Surprise, surprise: she's right, of course. And he'd thought the answer was forty-three.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the test, not trusting her not to start wreaking havoc with floating pencils or something equally strange. But she simply glides around the room, sneaking looks at other people's papers, making faces at the teacher in an attempt to get Liam to laugh - it nearly works, and he has to bury his smile in the sleeve of his hoodie.

When the bell rings, he makes a break for it, rushing to his locker and shoving his books haphazardly. Just as he slams the door closed, Mason appears beside him. Damn.

"Are you okay, Liam?" his best friend asks, and Liam wishes for once that Mason wasn't so observant. He always knows when something's up, no matter how hard Liam tries to cover it up. Usually it's comforting, to have someone he can talk to about things - especially since the whole werewolf secret came out into the open.

This isn't the sort of secret he can share; Mason is hopeless at lying. And a human in a pack of lie detectors.

They start walking towards the parking lot. "I- I'm fine," he curses his voice for shaking. "I just... I've got to revise for the bio test. I really need to pass it, to keep my grades up."

"The bio test is next week, Liam."

"Yeah, well, I'm really far behind."

"Since when do you miss lacrosse practice for homework?"

"Since my grades started dropping?"

"Liam, I hate to break this to you, but your grades are always dropping."

"That's not fair. I got a B on that English paper two weeks ago."

They've reached Liam's car, but Mason shows no sign of letting up. Instead, he leans against the driver's door with skeptical eyebrows raised, conveniently blocking Liam from getting in.

"Seriously, Liam," he says. "I'm worried about you - and so is Hayden. You've been acting weird for a while now."

"Oh great. You guys are teaming up on me now."

"Liam."

"Just leave it alone, Mason." he snaps, finally, and he's actually quite proud his patience lasted that long. Becoming a werewolf has done some good for his temper, despite Stiles' initial worries. "If I wanted your help, I'd ask for it."

He regrets it at the look of hurt that flashes across his best friend's face, but the shock of his outburst makes Mason move away from the car. So before he can backtrack, he pushes past and gets in, slamming the door harder than necessary.

"That was harsh," Allison says from the passenger seat.

"No shit. Let's go before I screw up anything else."

He's been stuck with his own personal shadow for two months now.

Neither of them know why she's stuck to him of all people - and neither of them is particularly happy about the situation, either.

All Allison can remember is dying, and waking up on Liam's bedroom floor in the middle of the night. (And hadn't that been a surprise when he'd woken up that morning.)

Now they're stuck to each other like glue: Allison can't go more than fifty metres without hitting an invisible barrier. It's made things with Hayden ridiculously awkward - Allison still makes fun of him about the time he and Hayden were making out, only for him to scream - it wasn't a scream, thank you very much - when Allison decided to float through the ceiling.

They've made cohabitation work, though, despite the initial bumps in the road. Liam could even go as far as to say they've become - friends.

Despite the fact that he knows very little about her. He knows she was a student at Beacon Hills High, that she looks around eighteen, and judging by her clothes she hasn't been dead very long. She knows anhell of a lot about the supernatural side of Beacon Hills, too - but everyone seems to nowadays. Other than the basics, there's nothing. He's tried to get her to open up, on one of the many nights the two of them have ended up lying on his bed talking into the early hours of the morning - but every time she clams up, or diverts the subject suddenly; he's learned not to ask. She'll talk to him when she's ready, he hopes.

He wishes Scott was here to tell him what to do, or Stiles, or Lydia - they seem to know more lore than anyone. Because even with Liam's company, Allison is clearly lonely. Limbo can't be a very comfortable place for anyone: always watching what you can never have, unable to move on.

But the other's are all at college. They're still in California - that's something, Liam supposes - but he hasn't seen them properly since school started. Hasn't had the chance, or found the right words, to tell them what's been happening.

Not that he could tell them, even if he had. The moment Liam suggested it to Allison, she looked furious. He knows she hates being stuck, but apparently she hates the idea of working with Scott McCall even more. That narrows down how long ago she died - though not much, considering the number of people who have died in the last few years.

So he's stuck with a secret shadow. He can't even tell Mason and Hayden.

They're probably right to worry.

They go to the preserve.

The woods look different every time he comes here, as if the very landscape is shifting and changing constantly. It's disorientating, especially as a werewolf - unease bubbles under his skin, digs sharp teeth into his stomach. The closer he gets to the nemeton, the more it pushes against him.

Allison, of course, has no such problem. In fact, the closer they get to the stump, the more energised and - real she seems. He could almost mistake her for someone alive.

"Come on, Liam," she yells at him, standing at least forty feet away and tapping her foot against the roots of a nearby tree. It sounds like a jackhammer in his ears. "Lacrosse practice ends in an hour."

"I am well aware of that fact, thank you," he snaps back through gritted teeth.

"I want to check out the root cellar today."

"The root cellar."

"Mmhmm."

"Didn't that cave in or something during the whole alpha pack thing?"

"Yes."

He finally catches up with her, and has to double over immediately to regain his breath. When he looks up she's smirking at him with an amused smile.

Sadist.

"Just because I'm a werewolf doesn't mean I can do the impossible. I'm not magic, Allison - I can't excavate the whole thing in less than an hour."

"It's a magic fucking tree, puppy."

"Calling people names is the first sign of bullying."

She snorts. "Where did you learn that bullshit? Name calling is an expression of - endearment."

He raises his eyebrows at her for a moment, then steels himself and starts walking again. This time Allison stays closer, and he can feel the effect of her - Stiles would probably call it an aura - washing over him like a tide, lessening the pain in his gut.

Back when he and Mason discovered the nemeton the first time, piled high with chimera bodies, the tree stump had all but called to him. As if it wanted to be found. Now the only way he can find his way to it is with Allison, who seems to have some sort of in-built homing beacon towards it.

It makes some sort of twisted sense, he supposes. There's more to it than Allison is willing to admit - the pieces are lost in the past she refuses to acknowledge - and once he knows it, he's sure everything will fall into place.

Eventually.

"It's a nemeton, Liam." Allison says.

"It's a dead nemeton. How powerful can it be?"

"With the power of a buried nogitsune, and the sacrifices of all the chimera bodies? You're so right, it must be really weak."

"How am I supposed to know how any of this magic stuff works?"

"You're a werewolf, Liam."

"Exactly! Don't normal werewolf packs have emissaries to remember the magic stuff for them?"

"That's a crude way of putting it."

"But I'm right."

He gains a grin from her, wide and blinding-toothed despite her washed out colours. Smiles like that - genuine, unabashed, happy - are hard to come by. Allison deals in smirks and snide comments and deadly glares; considering she's dead, Liam thinks she has a right to that sort of behaviour.

The warm effects of coaxing a smile from his ghost friend are immediately lost when she goes to nudge his shoulder, and falls through his body. It's like having a subzero waterfall drop on him from nowhere, the cold seeping deep into his bones.

"Allison!"

"Sorry!" she shrugs - he has to credit her for the attempt at empathy. It was almost convincing.

He can tell the moment they enter the nemeton's clearing - he could do it even with his eyes closed. The pressure behind his eyes vanishes, along with the claws in his stomach and the shakiness in his limbs. The unease remains, bone-deep and unshakeable. Even with his limited knowledge of magic, Liam can recognise the energy charged through the air.

He can practically see the sparks fizzing off Allison's now-vibrant form. She looks like she just drank five cans of redbull.

The two of them have been coming here for two weeks now - ever since Allison sleep-walked to the clearing, dragging Liam along behind her, in the middle of the night. They've combed the woods and clearing surrounding, the tangled mess of open-air roots, the tree stump itself, with little success.

The root cellar is their last hope.

Allison, now floating an inch or two off the ground, guides him over to the trapdoor - worn wood set in the ground, a carefully carved triskele emblazoned on the front. It opens easily when Liam tugs at the handle.

Even with werewolf eyes, it's a haze of black down those stairs at best. At least it's not buried under an avalanche of dirt. That's something.

Before Liam can even suggest a torch, Allison has drifted through the floor, leaving him with no option other than to follow her down.

His breath sticks in his throat.

"So..."

They're lying on his bed. It's been about three hours since they descended into darkness, and Liam is pretty sure he hasn't been breathing right since. His eyes are still stinging in any sort of bright light, but at least the headaches and vertigo haven't returned.

Allison is back to her washed-out, ethereal self - but he doesn't think he's ever seen her look so alive. She grins wide, cheeks flushed with excitement and anticipation.

The box sits on the bed between them, totally innocuous and unnoticeable. If not for the triskele on the front, Liam would probably have missed it, tangled and hidden as it was among the roots of the nemeton. Allison told him it feels like there's a vacuum of energy around it - and when she touched it, her hand flickered out of existence.

He hasn't dared to speak, nor open it. There's a strange sensation in his stomach, a rising and falling that makes him feel uneasy without knowing the cause.

"So..." he answers eventually, without looking up.

"What are we going to do?"

That makes him start. "What do you mean? Aren't we going to open it?"

Allison shrugs, tilting her head slightly. "Maybe. I mean, I've waited forever for this, but..."

"But...?"

"We have no idea what's in there. It's just a suspicious looking box which sucks my life force. The last time someone messed with stuff like this around the nemeton, a nogitsune killed...a bunch of people."

"Stiles." Liam nods. He doesn't know too much about the pack's history before him. They don't like talking about it - and Liam can understand why, so he doesn't push. He's seen how haunted Stiles always looks. The way he counts his fingers when he thinks no one is looking. The way some of the others sometimes look at him like they're not sure it's actually him.

He knows they lost someone, too.

Allison flashes him an indecipherable look before nodding. "Exactly. Who knows what we could be unleashing here?"

"But what if it's something that can help you? Shouldn't we risk it? I mean- what are you doing?"

Allison's laughing at him, eyes wide with surprise. "It's nothing," she manages eventually. "You just - remind me of someone."

Before he can ask who, the door opens, revealing Mason standing awkwardly in front of him. "Uh, your mum let me in."

Liam does a dive, desperately shoving the box haphazardly under the covers of his bed. "Um. Hi."

"So how's your revision going? I thought, since you were so worried about it, we could revise together?"

"Now really isn't great time."

"To revise? I thought that's what you were doing." He comes over to sit on the bed. Allison is nowhere to be seen.

"Mason..."

"Look, man, I really want to help. With whatever this is. You don't have to tell me what it is. Just know I'm here for you, okay? You're my best friend, and that's never gonna change."

Liam bites his lips. He can feel his eyes stinging - it's just the light, his mind insists. He doesn't deserve Mason, doesn't understand why the guy sticks around to deal with his messed up bullshit - but he's so damn glad he does.

"Thank you," he says quietly, not sure what else to say. An awkward silence hangs in the air between them.

"I guess I'll just..." Mason starts to get up, and before Liam can think better of it he grabs Mason's wrist. He turns around to look at Liam - expectantly? Hopefully?

"Do you understand biochemical pathways? I'm kinda stuck."

Mason smiles at him, and begins unpacking his biology books from his bag, throwing them down on the bed with heavy thumps. Whilst he's distracted, Liam shoves the box into a drawer, and can't help the twist of guilt in his chest when he turns back.

It takes another three days for Liam to get back to even thinking about the box - between making sure Mason and Hayden have no reason to worry about him, turning up to at least one lacrosse session to stop coach having an aneurysm, and actually getting his homework done because he's really behind - and by then he's too worried to open it.

He hasn't seen Allison in three days.

She's disappeared before at random, turning up a little later with a secretive grin on her face - which considering she can't go further than fifty feet away makes him suspicious - but this time is different. She's never been gone this long, and she seemed - different, shaken, that last time they spoke.

"Allison?"

His voice shakes, barely more than a terrified whisper, and he realises in that moment how much he cares about her. He hasn't known her too long - knows very little about her past. She's been the annoying voice in his ear, an inconvenient tag along, a protector, a confidant - a friend. She's become a significant part of his life - how could she not, considering they saw each other at all hours of the day?

"Allison? Please talk to me." He tries again, but there's still no reply. A sinking feeling settles low in his stomach. What if the box did something to her? What if she tried to open it whilst he wasn't around? It did make her hand disappear after all, if only momentarily.

When he turns back to his bed - there she is. Curled up among the blankets and pillows, her face drawn - pale yet shadowed and sickly. Shivering like she's been lying in a bath of ice water. She looks like she's dying. Can ghosts die?

"Oh my god, Allison!" He rushes over to the bed, reaching out to check her over. He barely feels the chill when his hand passes through her arms, which are taught and shaking with tension. Her jaw is gritted, like she's in pain.

"Allison, what happened?" She barely seems to register his presence, so he climbs up onto the bed beside her and puts his hand in hers, ignoring the slight discomfort. "Please, I need you to talk to me."

It takes a moment, but eventually her face flickers with life, gaze slowly crawling up his face to reach his own eyes. Her lips open, mouthing the words in strained, careful movements as if each one takes tremendous amounts of effort.

"The...box, Liam," her teeth chatter so hard he can only just make out her words. He can feel himself growing colder - and he's pretty sure it's not just from physical contact with a ghost. "Sh-show me the box."

He rolls over, grabbing it from the drawer he stowed it in as fast as he can, then lies it down in the bed between them.

"Open it."

For once, Liam doesn't argue the point, despite his reservations. Allison is dying. Again.

The hinges creak as he forces them to work, spitting red flecks of rust on his blankets. His unease grows with every inch he pushes the lid, until he can't bear to even look at what he's doing.

He's not sure what he's expecting inside the box. Some sort of magic - a powder, a spell, a talisman maybe? He's certainly not expecting it to be empty, so of course that's exactly what he discovers it to be. Because why would anything be easy in Beacon Hills.

"It did...this to me..." Allison rattles out.

"The box?"

"The contents."

"It's empty."

"It wasn't. We - we let it out." She lets out a cough, hands trembling. His body heat seems to be doing little to warm her.

"But I haven't opened it?"

Alliosn shakes her head - then winces, curling in on herself tighter. "We took it away from...the nemeton. Without that, a wooden box - it's nothing more than a wooden box."

"What is it?" He almost doesn't want to know, wants to run as far and fast as he can in the opposite direction.

"I have no idea. It's...huge. Freezing. Soul-sucking. Angry."

"What's new." The joke falls flat, but the edge of Allison's lips twitches upwards.

"Liam..." she shudders, and he immediately moves closer until her head is going through his leg, her arms and legs in a similar fashion. "We have to fix this."

"We have no idea what this even is.

"But we need to stop it."

Nothing ever stays simple for long in Beacon Hills.

Come talk with/hang with/prompt me any time on my tumblr: edelwoodsouls! Reviews greatly appreciated. Also, I wrote the second half of this half asleep so if you notice any mistakes please let know :)