Author's Note: I'd like to take a moment out to thank two very special people with whom I could not have created such an incredible story with. So thank you, Mel and Julie from the bottom of my heart for helping me with this story.

In Beacon Hills.. [[Allison POV]]

There's a feeling I can't shake. One in which I believe my family is hiding something from me. It started with the hushed tones; the whispers no one wanted me to hear. And much to my confusion, I couldn't (and still can't) hear what they're talking about.

Both of my parents seem unusually concerned about the rise in animal attacks Beacon Hills has seen in the past few months. My Aunt Kate, on the other hand, seems to think this is all some great big hunting opportunity. Her words, not mine. Weird. But then again she always has been an outspoken, outdoors enthusiast. She and my father have never seen eye to eye for as long as I can remember which always led to fits of screaming and arguments between the two. Though I still don't know what was so bad about her views. The only thing I do know; the only thing I'm allowed to know is that I now have a curfew.

"No going out after dark," my dad says.

I can't even begin to count the number of times I attempted to argue that with him. Even Aunt Kate jumped in at one point, making a heated situation boil over. She leapt in with how I "need to learn how to defend" myself. I've never seen my dad so distraught. Needless to say that was a conversation I never bothered to delve into again. I did, however, catch a snippet of my dad's conversation with Aunt Kate the other night in his study while I was on my way to the kitchen to grab a late night snack. He was speaking so low that I could only catch the part where he needed to call someone in to "deal with this". I didn't get to hear much else apart from that due to my father's ungodly ability to know when I'm creeping around. Today, however, starts a new day, which means back to school for yet another wonderful day of learning. But better yet, it's another day of seeing my friends. And what a welcomed distraction that will be for the thoughts that plague my mind.

Meanwhile, miles away.. [[Dean POV]]

The cold air crawls across the damp earth in a blunt rush, sweeping through and slicing into me like a rusty old blade. I wake with a jolt, the unforgiving chill knocking the air from my frozen lungs as I struggle to breathe. My head's spinnin' and I have no idea how long I've been here, strewn across the sodden earth as I attempt to grasp my bearings. Another brutal confrontation with Sam had led me here, but typical pride had gotten in the way, and we'd separated durin' the fray. Last thing I needed was this, but I'd let him go for now, only to let it go, later. We'd spoken briefly since but it's never nearly enough, and now I'm here, layin' in my own damn blood without a soul around to call. The wound ain't deep, and lingering here will only get me killed; I'm left with no choice but to peel the soaked leather from my marred flesh and struggle to a stand. Wincin' all the while as I swipe a weathered palm across my brow and make the journey back to the impala before I run into further trouble; I'd have to accept things for the way they are now. With a muted grumble my gaze tapers, fathomless eyes flitting across the dark space while I pull the blade from its hiding place, where it'd been safely tucked away until I'd been sliced with my own goddamn weapon.

"I'm about to gank a bitch."

Fishin' the keys from my pocket as a form of distraction, I turn my attention to my car and get to work, keeping a sharp ear out for the fuckin' fan club that'd cornered me moments ago. Soon enough the loss of blood leads to scorching veins, and a throat as dry as a desert. My patience is worn thin, and it doesn't take long for them to return. They're practically rabid, but I figure they've got no intention 'a killin' me just yet. They need somethin', at least. Information, dirt, you name it. But I don't have time to play dance with a fuckin' demon right now, and with a sudden clench of a tense jaw and a clash of teeth I'm pivoting, and tearin' their throats in two, a disturbin' glint flashing across my cold exterior as I watch the light fade from the first's eyes, to be followed by the other a split second later.

"Thanks for the souvenir, sweetheart."

All it takes is a kick to a limp frame to make me feel better, and there's a sick satisfaction there even as I bleed out, slick sickness seepin' from the gash written across my abdomen while I set about huntin' down that bottle 'a jack I just about knocked back the night before. It's nothin' but stitchin' up for tonight and onto the next one, a dirty old motel and some busty asian beauties to keep me company; until I worked up to callin' my brother, to bring him back home.

Back in Beacon Hills.. [[Allison POV]]

I've been avoiding Scott all day, though more for my dad's sake rather than my own. Poor kid. He's trying, I'll give him that, but this is for his safety; his benefit. I only wish he'd realize that. He still comes around at night, though I can't see him. It's a feeling rather than a sight. I can feel when he's near, like a static charge that fills the air. It's both thrilling and exacerbating at the same time. I wish he'd go away. It would make all of this so much easier. Thankfully most of the day went off without a hitch. But there was one incident just before lunch. I'd ducked out of class just as the bell rang to avoid the mad rush of my classmates that would no doubt stampede out into the halls. My locker, located across the hall from my economics class, was void of any and all students, leaving me a clear path to beeline for the small metal door. It was when I opened it, however, that I received my surprise. Sitting on the bottom row of my locker's shelving unit was a slender vase which held a beautiful crimson rose. A folded business card was placed in front of the gift, Scott's familiar chicken scratch scrawled across the blank section of the card. "Because I love you," it read. A message that used to fill me with joy no longer brings a smile to my face.

"Stop making this so hard," I'd whispered, well aware that he could hear me.

That was the last contact we'd had for the remainder of the day. I sigh, my warm breath fanning across the window of the bus, causing it to fog. With the day's events replaying in my head like a broken record on loop I'd nearly missed my stop.

"Miss Argent!"

The driver's booming voice cuts through my thoughts and causes surprise to surge through my veins, making me jump in my seat. I watch as her brows rise expectantly.

"Are you going to get off, or will you be accompanying me to the bus garage?"

A smile forms, and I shake my head as I stand.

"N-no. Sorry. I, uh.. Erm, nevermind."

Shouldering my backpack, I hastily make my exit, thankful to be back home. I stride down the paved path that leads to the front door and let myself in, calling out for my parents.

"Hello? You guys here?!"

Silence fills the room soon after, and I shrug. I turn the corner in order to head into the kitchen, nearly colliding with my father. A shrill shriek escapes me, but I'm quick to recover while I bring a hand to my chest and exhale a loud breath.

"Go upstairs and get ready. We're having company over and they'll be here any minute."

His voice is calm and collected, clearly unaffected by our run in. My brows furrow with my skeptical look, but I nod my head slowly in compliance while I turn to do as instructed. Could these be the people he mentioned just a day ago to Aunt Kate?