A/N: Sorry for the late update guys, with work and the two-week update schedule, rather than one week, my days have been completely out of whack. The next chapter will be up on the usual Wednesday, and hopefully after that I'll stay on track. Hope you enjoy!

I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.


"You're suggesting there's a vampire at Beacon Hills High School?" Stiles asked me, not even trying to hide the cynicism in his voice.

"I ain't suggesting anything," I growled, trying to keep my voice low so the rest of the Econ class didn't overhear us. Sure, Danny was in on everything now, but that didn't mean I wanted every living soul at the school to hear us talking about creatures of the night. "I'm telling you."

"Amber, you can't be serious," Scott said, leaning across his desk to get closer to me. "There's no such thing as vampires."

"I can't seriously be the only one here who thought the same thing about werewolves not nine months ago." Scott had the decency to at least look like he was contemplating what I was telling him. Stiles was just rolling his eyes. "Jackson believes me."

I heard a doubtful noise from the desk next to mine, and I spun around to glare at Jackson.

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe you think you saw a vampire-"

"Felt."

He winced. "Yeah, that whole 'sensing' stuff really doesn't help your case."

I gasped, offended, and turned back to Scott and Stiles. If anyone would believe me, it would be these guys, right? My alpha, apparently, and the human that helped me figure out all this witchy crap?

The looks on their faces told me otherwise.

"Y'all really don't believe me?" I asked them, genuinely surprised that their first reaction wasn't to trust me, no matter how ludicrous I sounded. "After everything we've been through together?"

"It's not that we don't believe you, Amber," Scott started, after sharing a pitying look with Stiles.

"It's just that you're wrong," Stiles finished, shrugging apologetically. "Ever since the kanima, ever since Boyd and Erica went missing, we've been keeping tabs on everything that happens around here. If there was a vampire in town – if they even exist, that is – we'd know about it."

"So you're completely disregarding what I'm telling you, even though my powers have yet to fail us?"

"Now, when you say it like that…"

"Amber, I trust you," Scott said, leaning forward in his seat again. "I trust you with my life, but you're still new at this."

"That don't mean I don't know what I'm talking about."

"But vampires, though?" Stiles said doubtfully. "Really?"

"Yes, Stiles. Really."

"Have you ever met one?" he asked.

"Well, no," I admitted. "But-"

"And how did you come across the realisation of vampires?"

"I read about them," I muttered reluctantly. Stiles smiled triumphantly, but I was quick to defend myself. "But then I asked my uncle Drew, and he told me all about them. And then we went to Mystic Falls, this little town in Virginia that is well known throughout the supernatural community to have been a home to vampires for centuries, and-"

"If it's so well known, why haven't we heard about it?" he challenged.

I rolled my eyes. "Because you're ignorant, and you don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Listen," Stiles said, ignoring my comment. "Just because you read about something in a storybook and went to an old town with a ghost story doesn't mean vampires are real, okay? And it certainly doesn't mean there's one in town."

"Stiles," I pleaded, my eyes wide. "Come on, it was you that pushed me into all of this. It was you who convinced me to speak to Deaton; you were the one that was there when I first started learning to control my magic. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." He blew out a breath, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling for a second, and I knew I had him. Hook. "If you could believe in me then, why can't you believe me now?" Line.

"Fine." And sinker. "I'll look into it, okay?" I nodded, eagerly agreeing to any form of acceptance after all of that. "But if I don't find anything…"

"I'll let it go, I promise," I swore, holding my hands up with a giant smile. "Thank you."

"Whatever," Stiles huffed.

Coach called everyone's attention to the front of the classroom with the slam of a book against a table. I turned, much happier now than I had been five minutes ago. "The stock market is based on two principles," Coach called, turning to the class expectantly. "What are they?" He looked around the classroom, his eyes landing somewhere behind me. "Yes, McCall, you can go to the bathroom. Anybody else?"

"Uh, no, Coach," Scott interrupted, drawing his attention back. "I know the answer."

Scott was instantly met with ferocious laughter. When Scott didn't laugh back, Coach quietened himself and cleared his throat. "Oh, you're serious."

"Yeah," Scott said. "It's risk and reward."

"Wow," Coach exclaimed, walking up the aisle to praise Scott. "Who are you, and what have you done with McCall?" I turned to take in Scott's proud face, smiling with delight. "Don't answer that," Coach corrected himself. "I like you better. I like you better." He stood up, smiling crazily at Scott, before backing away slowly. "Does anybody have a quarter?" he asked the class. I heard a listen rustling and muttering from the desk behind mine, and the next second, something is dropping onto the floor next to my desk. I looked down to see what it was, an instantly regretted that decision.

A condom.

"Oh, lord," I whispered to myself, covering my mouth with a hand as Jackson started to cry with barely restrained laughter.

"Stilinski, I think you uh…" Coach bent down to pick it up off the floor handing it back to Stiles with the most uncomfortably impressed look I'd ever seen on his face. "You dropped this. And, congratulations."

"That's a little generous, isn't it, Stilinski?" Jackson murmured, before holding a hand to his chest as he started chuckling again. "Next time I ask you why we associate with people like this, remind me of this very moment," Jackson ordered me, tears in his eyes. "This is the best thing to have happened in weeks."

"Risk and reward," Coach continued, not the least bit fazed by that event. He grabbed the mug from his desk and placed it on the floor, taking a few steps back and gesturing to it with the quarter. "Put the quarter in the mug, win the reward. Okay, watch Coach." He crouched down and lined up his shot, bouncing the quarter off the linoleum floor and into the mug. The class applauded at the fine shot, and Coach lapped it up. "That's how you do it. Okay, Danny." He threw the quarter to where Danny sat in front of Jackson, and Danny flipped it around in his hands. "Risk, reward."

"What's the reward?"

"You don't have to take the pop quiz tomorrow."

"Uh, Coach," Danny started, raising an eyebrow. "It's not a pop quiz if you tell us about it."

"Danny, you know, I really expect more from you at this point." Coach stole the quarter from Danny's hands, and continued up the aisle. "Really. McCall." He slammed the quarter on Scott's desk. "Risk, reward. The risk: If you don't put that quarter in the mug, you have to take the pop… the… the quiz. And… and you have to write an essay. Risk: more work. Reward: no work at all." Coach grinned at Scott as he contemplated his choice. "Or choose not to play."

"But isn't this just chance?" Scott asked him.

"No. You know your abilities, your coordination, your focus, past experience… all factors affecting the outcome." I looked over my right shoulder at Scott, returned the knowing smile. I knew he could make that shot, he knew he could make that shot, everyone here knew he could make that shot. He wouldn't even have to try. "So what's it gonna be, McCall? More work, no work, or choose not to play?" Scott studied the quarter for a second, before dropping it down onto his textbook. "No play," Coach announced, swiping the quarter back. "Okay. Who's next? Who wants the quarter?" I saw Jackson pursing his lips, considering it, but Coach found someone else first. "There ya go!" he grinned, gesturing to Stiles behind me. "There's a gamblin' man!" Stiles jumped up from his seat, a bright smile on his face as he took the quarter from Coach.

"This is gonna be entertaining," I heard Jackson mutter as he got comfortable in his seat.

"Step up, step up," Coach encouraged Stiles, leading him to his starting position. "Alright, Stilinski!" Stiles got settled, crouched down slightly as Coach watched avidly. Neither of them noticed the door open.

"Stiles," the Sheriff said in way of greeting, trying to grab his son's attention.

"Yeah, Coach, I got it," Stiles said distractedly, still not noticing his dad.

"Stiles," he said again, this time more serious. That's when he finally looked up from the mug, noting his Dad's grave demeanour. The sheriff nodded his head towards the door, and Stiles followed him out, sending a quick, confused frown Scott's way.

"Okayy," Coach drawled, shrugging. "Anyone else wanna give it a go?" Danny raised his hand, to Coach's glee. "Danny, my boy. Come on up!"

"What's going on?" I asked Scott, leaning over to keep my voice quiet as Danny lined himself up with the mug. Despite Jackson's hatred of Stiles, even he seemed interested, if not the tiniest bit concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Heather's missing," Scott muttered, concentrating as he stared at the door. "Nobody has seen her since the party last night."

"What's that got to do with Stilinski?" Jackson asked, turning his head slightly to look at Scott at the seat behind him. "Did news of his rejection get out?"

"You ain't funny, Sonny," I scolded, rolling my eyes.

"Don't call me that," he hissed.

"All of her friends said Stiles was the last person they saw her with," Scott said, ignoring us. "They didn't see her after she was with him. Stiles was the last person to see her."

I frowned. "What does that even mean? Do they think Stiles had something to do with it?"

"No," Scott shook his head adamantly. "I think his dad just wanted to see if he knew anything."

"Maybe she was just really drunk," I suggested, shrugging. "Maybe she wandered off with some friends or another guy, and she's just sleeping it off somewhere." At least, I hope that was the worst-case scenario. However, Scott shook his head again.

"I don't think we're that lucky."


"Stiles," I tried, keeping in step with him and Scott as we marched through the hall. "We're gonna find her."

"What if we don't?" he argued, running a hand over his hair. He had grown it out over the summer, and it looked good on him. Wait. "Or what if we do, and it's too late?"

"Too late?" Scott repeated, frowning. "What do you mean, too late?"

"I mean, what if that pack of alpha werewolves, that Derek is scared of, took her?" Stiles suggested, flinging his arms out to the side. "What if they're recruiting?"

"So you think they kidnapped Heather to turn her?"

Stiles shrugged again. "Derek says it's easier to turn teenagers."

"But you just said it; they're a pack of alphas," I pointed out. Scott nodded.

"Yeah, what would they need with a beta?" he added.

"I don't know," Stiles admitted, huffing as he slowed to a stop. "I don't care, alright? This girl… our moms were best friends before mine died, alright? We used to take frickin' bubble baths together when we were three." Stiles' shoulders slumped, and he stared at Scott pleadingly. "I gotta find her."

"Then we need Isaac to remember," Scott decided, looking between the two of us.

"How?" Stiles asked, defeated. "Peter and Derek couldn't do it. You know any other werewolves with a better trick?"

"Maybe not a werewolf," Scott said casually, raising his eyebrows at me. "But someone who knows a lot about 'em."


"I have to…" Isaac stared at the steel bath slowly filling with ice, his eyes wide. "I have to get in that?"

"Obviously, it's not going to be particularly… comfortable," Deaton admitted, shrugging. "But if we can slow your heart rate down enough, you'll slip into a trance-like state."

"Like being hypnotized," Isaac said. I nodded.

"Exactly," Deaton agreed. "You'll be half transformed. It'll let us access your subconscious mind." He turned to me, a smile on his face. "Take notes. You may find these kind of exercises useful one day."

"How slow does his heart rate need to be?" Scott asked, sounding a little worried.

Deaton hesitated for a second before answering. "Very slow."

"Yeah, well, how slow is very slow?" Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nearly dead." I blew out a breath, watching Isaac's face turn only slightly terrified. He dipped his hand into the water, instantly whipping it back out again with a hiss. It was an ice-bath;

"It's safe though, right?" Isaac asked, looking up at me from across the bath. I winced.

"Do you want me to answer that honestly?" Deaton asked him.

"No," Isaac decided, shaking his head. "No, not really."

A rubbery slapping noise from behind me caught my attention, and I turned, just as everyone else did, to watch Stiles play with an elbow-long rubber glove.

"What?" he asked, when he finally saw us judging him. He pulled the glove off with a sigh, and I turned back to Isaac.

"You'll probably be fine," I told him, trying to be comforting. I don't think it worked.

"Probably?" Isaac repeated. I shrugged.

"There's always the chance something could go horribly, terribly wrong," I admitted. Isaac swallowed. "But you're a werewolf; you heal fast."

"Isn't there anything you could do?" Derek asked, gesturing at me. "A little bit of that witchcraft you spent all summer practicing to keep him safe?"

"I wouldn't suggest it," Deaton cut in, before I could answer. "Magic takes its toll, and Amber is still fairly new to all of this; too much magic like that could be bad for her."

"How bad, exactly?" Stiles asked, wandering back from his source of entertainment.

"It could kill me," I supplied, pursing my lips. "And, no offence, Lahey, but we ain't close enough for me to willingly risk my life for you." Isaac held his hands up, unfazed by my comment.

"The feeling's mutual, Wilson," he agreed, resting his arms against the bath again and blowing out a nervous breath.

"Look," Derek sighed, watching the fear cross over Isaac's face. "If it feels too risky, you don't have to do this." Scott nodded, agreeing with Derek's sentiment, but instead, Isaac stripped off his shirt and blew out another breath.

He stepped over the edge of the bath and into the ice water, sinking into the freezing liquid. It only took seconds before his teeth start to chatter. Scott and Derek put their hands on either of Isaac's shoulders, and with the tiniest nod from the shivering werewolf, they pushed him back until he was completely submerged. The water burst over the edge of the tub and spilled onto the floor, cubes of ice falling with it. I was stood a few feet from the tub, so I didn't feel the worst of it, but even the few splashes that landed against my bare legs gave me shivers. Isaac lay still for a little while, maybe thirty seconds or so, before things started to get a little more complicated.

He shot up out of the water again, this time with extended fangs and golden eyes, roaring. Scott and Derek struggled to keep him down, will I just put my thumbnail between my teeth and winced at their efforts.

"Get him back under!" Deaton ordered them, much to Derek's annoyance as he continued to shove Isaac back under the water, despite his protests. "Hold him."

"We're trying!" Derek bit back. He shot a glare over his shoulder at me. "Any help would be nice, Red."

"Okay, a) it's auburn," I pointed out over the loud trashing, tipping my head with a one-shouldered shrug. "And b) what do you expect me to do? Y'all are the ones with the super strength."

All of a sudden, the splashing stopped, and the room went quiet. Slowly, as Scott and Derek let go of Isaac's shoulders, he floated back to the surface, taking a breath when he reached the top. Deaton held up a finger, reminding everyone to stay quiet.

"Now remember," he said gently, moving closer to the tub and its unconscious occupant. "Only I talk to him. Too many voices will confuse him and draw him out." After he had received nods all around, Deaton crouched down at the side of the tub. "Isaac? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Isaac stammered, still shivering from the icy water. "I can hear you."

"This is Dr Deaton," he continued. "I'd like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?"

"Yes."

"I want to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd," Deaton explained, slow and calm. "I want you to remember it for me in as vivid detail as possible, like you're actually there again."

"I… I don't wanna do that," Isaac begged, sounding scared. Even in his unconscious state, he started to stir, his legs kicking out in anxiety. "I don't… I don't wanna do that. I don't wanna do that."

"Isaac, it's alright," Deaton comforted, reaching out to Isaac. "Just relax. They're just memories. You can't be hurt by a memory."

"I don't wanna do that."

"It's alright-"

"I don't wanna do that."

"Relax," Deaton ordered gently. "Relax," he said again, Isaac listening this time and settling again. "Good. Now, let's go back to that night. To the place you found Erica and Boyd. Can you tell me what you see? Is there some kind of building? A house?"

"Hey, Amber?" Stiles asked softly, sidling up beside me.

"Shh," I said instead of answering, not looking away from Deaton and Isaac.

"It's important," Stiles tried, and I rolled my eyes.

"As important as finding Erica and Boyd?"

"It's about finding Erica and Boyd," Stiles said, shrugging. He looked a little… odd, refusing to meet my eye.

"And Heather?" I asked, turning away from the tub to peer at him. He shrugged again, finally nodding in admission.

"Over the summer, I did a little research into… you know, all that witchy crap," he finished vaguely, waving a hand around. "Have you ever heard of a locator spell?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "Yeah, I have. But ain't that what Isaac's for?"

"What if this doesn't work?" Stiles said, folding his arms over his chest. "It didn't work when Peter tried it."

"I don't know how Deaton's gonna feel about it," I admitted, sneaking a glance to the veterinarian to see him still totally absorbed in Isaac. "He doesn't like me doing magic out of my league."

"But what if Isaac doesn't remember?" Stiles carried on, watching the werewolf in question warily. "What if all of this was for nothing? What if she's not even with them? What if she's already-"

"Stiles," I cut in, deciding to stop that sentence before things got emotional. He closed his eyes for a second before turning back to me.

"It's a possibility," he admitted quietly.

"I'll need something of hers," I instructed, whispering so that Deaton wouldn't hear me. "Something personal, like… a favourite piece of jewellery, or something. Maybe some hair, if you can get it. That's your only task, so don't screw it up, okay?" Stiles nodded eagerly, gratefully. "And I know you two can hear every word we're saying," I continued, directing that comment at Scott and Derek, who looked away and pretended like they couldn't hear us. "If either of y'all breathe a word about this to Deaton, I'll knock you into the middle of next week looking both ways for Sunday, y'got that?"

Scott's face screwed up into an expression of both confusion and fear. I saw him mouth the words 'both ways for Sunday' as Stiles frowned at me. "Where do you come from?"

"They're worried," I heard Isaac say, and when I returned my attention to him, his eyes were open as he lay in the tub. "They're worried what they'll do during the full moon. They're… worried that they're gonna hurt each other."

"If they're locked in together on the full moon, they're gonna tear each other apart," Derek muttered, looking between Scott and Deaton.

"Isaac," Deaton continued urgently after a pointed stare from Derek. "We need to find them right now. Can you see them?"

"No."

"Do you know what kind of room it is? Is there any kind of of a marker? A number on a door? A sign-"

Isaac shot upright in the tub, breathing heavily as everyone but Derek backed away a little.

"They're here," he whispered suddenly. "They… they…"

"It's alright," Deaton said said softly as Isaac started sinking into the water again.

"No…"

"Just tell us-"

"They see me," he cried. "They found me. They're here!"

"This isn't working," Derek snapped, looking up to Deaton desperately. "Isaac, where are you?"

"I can't see them. It's too dark!"

"Just tell me where you are," Derek ordered, reaching into the water to grab at Isaac.

"You're confusing him," Deaton warned.

"I can't see!" Isaac shouted out, thrashing around in the water again.

"Isaac, where are you?" Derek demanded again, despite Deaton's words. "Just tell me where you are."

"His heart rate," Deaton murmured. "He could go into shock."

"Derek, let him go," Scott said, even though Derek was too caught up in finding his betas to even hear him.

"Isaac, where are you?!" Derek shouted at him. "What did you see?"

"A vault!" Isaac screamed out, finally reacting to his alpha's commands. "It's a bank vault! I saw a bank vault, and then they found me. They… they dragged me into a room. There's a body. There's a dead body… It's Erica."


"She's not dead," Derek snapped, pacing the back wall of the examination room. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Derek, you heard what he said. 'There's a dead body. It's Erica.' Doesn't exactly leave us much room for interpretation."

"Stiles," I whispered harshly, but he just shrugged innocently at my warning glare.

"Then who was in the vault with Boyd?" Derek asked angrily.

"Someone else," Stiles responded. "Obviously."

"Maybe it was the girl on the motorcycle," Scott suggested, raising a question eyebrow at Isaac. "The one who saved you?"

"No, she wasn't like us," Isaac said, shaking his head. "And whoever was in the vault with Boyd was."

"What if that's how Erica died?" Stiles asked the room.

"Okay, we still don't know for sure that she's dead," I pointed out. Stiles ignored me.

"They pit them against each other during the full moons and see which one survives," he barrelled on, shrugging. "It's like werewolf Thunderdome."

"And maybe that's why a pack of alphas are recruiting betas," I muttered, thinking of Heather. "They need to replace the loser after each full moon."

"You're thinking that's why they took Heather?" Scott asked, frowning between Stiles and I. "To replace Erica?"

I shrugged. "If that was the case, the next full moon would be her first. How out-of-control were you on your first full moon?"

"In my defence, I didn't try to kill anyone on my first full moon," Scott argued, tipping his head.

"Yeah, it wasn't until lacrosse practice that you started trying to kill me," Stiles added, smiling at his best friend.

"My point," I interrupted, "is that while Boyd might be able to control himself on the next full moon, whoever is in there with him, especially if it's not Erica, probably can't. So we only have until the next full moon until they end up killing each other."

"The next full moon is tomorrow," Stiles pointed out. Derek folded his arms across his chest.

"Then we get them out tonight," he decided.

"Are you kidding me?" I scoffed.

"Be smart about this, Derek," Deaton pleaded. "You can't just go storming in."

"If Isaac got in, then so can we," Derek argued, shrugging.

"But he didn't get through a vault door, did he?" Deaton highlighted.

I hummed. "And let's not forget the getting captured and potentially fatally wounded by the pack of alphas that have Erica and Boyd." I raised my eyebrows at Derek. "Running in there right now would be suicide."

"We need a plan," Scott cut in. Derek scoffed.

"How're we gonna come up with a plan to break into a bank vault in less than twenty-four hours?"

"Uh, actually," Stiles interrupted distractedly, staring at his phone. "I think someone already did. Beacon Hills First National closes its doors three months after vault robbery," he read aloud, looking up at us all in turn. "Doesn't say here how it was robbed, but it probably won't take long to find out."

"How long?" Derek ordered, looking sceptical.

"It's the internet, Derek," Stiles said, laughing. "Okay? Minutes."

"Hey, Deaton?" I asked, taking a step closer to the veterinarian. "While we have your attention, I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Of course, Amber," he said, turning to me with a smile. "What's the problem?"

"It ain't a problem so much as… an inquiry," I started, biting my lip. "I was walking through the hall earlier today, and I brushed shoulders with someone, and it felt… dark."

Deaton's face turned grave, and also kind of curious. It was a strangely creepy mix. "What kind of dark?" he asked. He gestured to the guys behind me. "Their kind of dark, or something else?"

"Something else," I murmured. "Darker. There was a lot of pain. A lot of death."

"Are you going on about that 'vampire' again?" Stiles groaned, and I didn't need to look to know he was rolling his eyes.

"Vampire?" I heard Derek repeat.

"Yeah, vampire," Stiles confirmed sceptically. "She thinks there was a vampire at school today."

"Aren't vampires just a myth, though?" Isaac muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

"There are lots of things out there," Deaton interrupted, coming to my defence. "Some are things known only to legend. Some are things completely unknown to the natural world. Nothing is impossible."

"So you're saying you believe in vampires?" Derek asked Deaton doubtfully.

"I'm not saying I believe in them," Deaton argued, shaking his head. "That would suggest there's any doubt to their existence. Vampires are real."

The four of them were quiet for a little while as I smiled victoriously, until Stiles chuckled to himself.

"Okay, Deaton," he grinned, pointing a finger at him. "Nice one. You almost had me there."

"But I…" Deaton trailed off as Stiles pushed off the table he was leaning against and left the room, Scott close behind. "I wasn't joking," Deaton finished quietly, turning to me with a confused expression. I just shrugged, not at all sympathetic.

"Do you see what I have to put up with?"


"Morning!"

"Jeez, Lydia," I breathed, a hand to my chest. I had been stood at my locker, staring into it as I thought about all of the research I had done last night; my grimoire only had a few pages on vampires, since the book's main purpose was spells and magic, but what it did have was certainly informative. Of course, reading it through in my head again had meant I hadn't seen Lydia sidling up to me until she had greeted me loudly. "You scared me."

"You really should pay closer attention to your surroundings," she suggested, pursing her lips. "Especially in this town."

"What's up, Lyds?" I asked, sighing as I pushed my locker closed gently.

"I need a ride home after school today," she said, not at all asking. "Jackson said he has pack stuff, and Allison has something she needs to do."

I frowned. "What's she doing?"

"I don't know, she didn't give me any details and I didn't ask." Lydia raised an eyebrow questioningly. "So are you gonna drive me home?"

"Of course," I nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as we strolled to English. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"You're hilarious," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.

"I know."

"If I told you something that sounded totally and completely unbelievable, but I swore to you that it was true, would you believe me?"

Lydia stopped and spun to stand in front of me, raising an eyebrow. "Amber, you're a witch in a town full of werewolves and werewolf hunters and god knows what else," she pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. "You could tell me the moon was made of Brie and I would believe you."

I smiled at her, unbelievably grateful after everything that had happened yesterday. "This is why you're my favourite."


"So Lydia now believes there are vampires running around too?" Stiles asked me, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," I sang, wincing slightly. "Not exactly." Stiles stopped on the top step up to Derek's new loft to narrow his eyes at me, trying to figure me out.

"You didn't tell her, did you?" he said, sounding as though he already knew the answer. I huffed.

"It was enough for me to know that she would believe me," I tried, and Stiles laughed.

"Yeah, she'd believe you right up until the word vampire," he scoffed, continuing on to pull the large metal door across and leading the way into Derek's home.

The loft was big, and barely furnished. It didn't even look like anyone lived here, but after Derek's previous tenancies of an abandoned subway train and the burnt house that his whole family died in, this was a big step up.

"Vampire?" I heard Peter's voice drawl, and I couldn't help the long-suffering sigh that escaped my mouth. "What on earth are you talking about those parasites for?"

"We were discussing how much we'd prefer to be stuck in a room full of them instead of with you right now," Stiles greeted, smiling at Peter as he sat on the couch. "Unfortunately for us, we don't have any at hand."

"How lovely to see you too, Stiles."

"What is he even doing here?" I whined at Derek who just shrugged.

"He won't leave," he muttered back, his face remaining emotionless as he folded his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Boredom, mostly," I admitted, shrugging. "I quit my job before I left for Nashville over the summer, and now I have all this free time on my hands that I don't quite know what to do with."

"You could use it to learn to be useful enough to help on occasions such as these," Peter suggested, standing up and following me over to the desk by the large window.

"Or I could use it to figure out how to kill you again," I smile back, tipping my head as I dropped my grimoire onto the desk with a mighty bang.

"Please do," I heard Derek mutter. Peter rolled his eyes and sank onto one of the steps of the spiral staircase in the corner. I hopped onto a stool at the bar with my back to the window and pulled my grimoire to me, resting my folded arms and chin on it as Stiles spread out a few large sheets of paper.

"Okay, these are the blueprints for the whole bank," he started, laying them out flat and huffing when the corners started to roll in again. I shoved the book forward a little to cover one corner, and Scott grabbed a mug to catch the other. "Okay, you see this?" Stiles gestured to a small square on the paper, circling it with a marker. "This is how they got in. It's a rooftop air conditioning vent, leads down inside into the wall of the vault, which is here. Okay?" He looked at Scott and Derek, both of them nodding. "One of the robbers was lowered into this shaft. Now, that space is so small, it took him about twelve hours to drill into that wall, which is stone, by the way. Then, throughout the rest of the night, they siphoned the cash up to the guys back on the roof through that one little shaft in the wall. Boom."

"Can we fit in there?" Scott asked him doubtfully. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah, we can, but very, very barely. And they also patched the wall, obviously, so we're gonna need a drill of some kind."

"And twelve hours to get through the wall," I pointed out, shrugging. "Which we don't have."

"Actually-"

"Look, forget the drill," Derek cut in before Stiles could carry on his actually.

"Sorry?" Stiles asked, one eyebrow raised.

"If I go in first, how much space do I have?" Derek asked, studying the plans carefully.

Stiles scoffed. "What do you… what do you think you're gonna do, Derek? You gonna punch through the wall?"

"Oh, lord," I muttered, rolling my eyes. Why must he always irritate the already grumpy werewolf with the super strength? The amused look Scott sent my way told me he was thinking the same thing.

"Yes, Stiles," Derek bit out. "I'm gonna punch through the wall."

"Okay," Stiles smiled, obviously entertained by Derek's idea. "Okay, big guy. Let's see it. Let's see that fist. Big ole fist. Make it, come on."

"Stiles, please stop."

"Don't be scared," Stiles encouraged, completely ignoring me. "Big bad wolf."

"He's going to kill you in your sleep."

"Yeah, look at that," Stiles cheered when Derek finally held up his fist for Stiles to see. The 'big bad wolf' did not look impressed. "Okay, see this? That's maybe three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid con-"

The next thing I know, Derek's fist is flying at Stiles' outstretched palm and Stiles is half on the floor, whining in pain.

"He could do it," I heard Stiles gasp as he struggled to stand back up. I snorted, quickly convering my hand with my mouth when Stile glared at me, his eyes peeking over the top of the table before he managed to pull himself back to his feet.

"You had it coming," I argued, shrugging.

"I'll get through the wall," Derek continued, not paying any attention to Stiles as he held his injured hand close to his chest. "Who's following me down?"

It was quiet in the room for a while, and when Derek's eyes landed on Peter, the older Hale instantly drew back. "Don't look at me," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm not up to fighting speed yet, and, honestly, with Isaac out of commission, you're not looking at very good odds for yourself."

"So I'm supposed to just let them die?" Derek said, raising his eyebrows.

"One of them is already dead."

"We don't know that," Derek argued.

"Do I have to remind you what we're up against here?" Peter asked his nephew, narrowing his eyes. "A pack of alphas. All of them, killers. And if that's not enough to scare your testicles back into your stomach-"

"That's a mental picture I didn't need," I muttered to myself.

"-try to remember that two of them combine bodies to form one giant alpha. I'm sure Erica and Boyd were sweet kids," Peter continued, staring off out the window. "They're gonna be missed."

"Could someone kill him again please?" Stiles begged, glaring at Peter.

"On it," I responded, pulling my book back to me and flipping it open for dramatic affect. Peter just smirked.

"Derek, seriously," he asked, shrugging again. "Not worth the risk." He folded his arms over his chest, done with the matter, and that was that.

"What about you?" Derek asked, looking over at Scott.

Stiles shrugged, nodded. "Yeah, if you want me to-"

"Not you," Derek interrupted, cutting him off. Stiles nodded again.

"Scott," Stiles said, pointing at his friend beside him.

"I don't know about Erica," Scott admitted, sighing. "But if Boyd's still alive, we have to do something. We have to try."


"I can't take waiting around like this, you know?" Stiles whined. Again. "It's nerve-racking. My nerves are racked. They're severely racked. Racked."

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it's over," Peter offered from the couch. I turned to Stiles as he leaned against the desk beside me.

"I know you're getting on my last nerve when Peter Hale starts making sense."

"What are you even doing?" he asked, ignoring my comment. "You've been flicking through that book since they left."

"I…" I didn't want to tell him that I was reading up on vampires again. I didn't have to.

"You have got to be kidding me," Stiles groaned after he'd peered over and started scanning the page. "You need to let this go."

"I'll let it go when you make good on your promise and start taking it seriously," I said defensively, sliding the book out of his sight. "You said you'd look into it."

"And I will, once we have Erica and Boyd back, okay?" Stiles tried, widening his eyes, placating. I huffed.

"Fine," I murmured, flipping to a non-vampire related page. "While we're on that topic, have you managed to get anything of Heather's yet?"

Stiles shook his head, pursing his lips. "I'm gonna drop by her house tonight, so I can add breaking and entering to my list of felonies."

I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. "Pretty sure B&A is already on that list," I thought aloud. I heard a bit of muttering from Stiles as he sat in the stool next to mine. We were silent for a little while, even Peter too caught up in his own thoughts to pay us any mind.

"Do you think Erica's really dead?" Stiles said quietly after a few minutes of quiet.

"You think I really care?" Peter muttered back.

"I wasn't talking to you," Stiles snapped back, shaking his head. "I just… I don't understand the bank, though, okay? Wha… like, why wouldn't they just chain them up in some underground lair or something?"

"Lair?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows.

"They're an alpha pack," Stiles argued. "Shouldn't they have a lair?"

"They're werewolves, not Bond villains," Peter pointed out.

"Maybe the bank is their lair," I suggested, shrugging as I read through the notes I had made on the locator spell in my grimoire. "It's abandoned, right?

"Maybe they live there," Stiles continued, and I nodded distractedly. "Like, maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens."

"Wolf dens?" Peter repeated sarcastically, probably raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, wolf dens," Stiles carried on, nodding. "Where do you live?"

"In an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods," Peter replied, and I looked up from my book with a huff.

"Whoa," Stiles said. Seriously, Stiles? "Really?"

"No, you idiot," Peter snapped. "I have an apartment downtown."

"Okay, fine, but still," Stiles muttered defensively. "That just proves there's something up with the bank. And why wait around for the full moon, huh? Why not just kill them whenever they want to?"

"Maybe they think it's poetic," Peter suggested, obviously not at all entertained by Stiles' ramblings.

"They've already had three full moons to be poetic."

"And here you've only had one full hour to be so annoy…" Peter trailed off, and I lifted my head again to frown at him.

"No, go ahead," Stiles encouraged, waving a hand around in Peter's general direction. "Finish what you were saying. I'm ann… I'm annoy… What were you gonna say there?"

"What are the walls made of?"

Stiles spun his head around to frown at me, and I just shrugged.

"Maybe he's having a meltdown?" I suggested.

"No, the vault, the vault, the walls of the vault," Peter said, standing up anxiously and heading over to the blueprints that were still spread out over the desk. "What are the walls of the vault made out of? Where would it say that?" He flicked through all the pages as Stiles and I frowned and shrugged at each other. "It doesn't say anything. Where… where would it say the materials, the type of stone?"

"Oh," Stiles said, shaking his head for a second before spinning around and rifling through his bag. "Hang on. Yeah," he said, pulling out a thick wad of paper and dropping it onto the blueprints. "Here. It's gotta be in there."

"What are you thinking?" I asked Peter, standing up to lean over the desk and see what he was doing.

"Shh," was all he said in response, and I rolled my eyes. He and Stiles flipped through each of the pages, anxiously scanning them for what felt like hours.

"There," Stiles suddenly said, shoving a hand onto the page.

"Hecatolite," Peter murmured, reading aloud.

"Is that awful?" Stiles asked, shrugging. "That sounds awful."

"Get them on the phone," Peter ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. I whipped out my phone and hit 4 on my speed dial, calling Scott.

"Why?" I asked, putting the phone up to my ear without knowing what I was even going to tell Scott.

"Because Boyd and that girl aren't gonna kill each other," Peter explained, his face dark. "They're gonna kill Derek and Scott."

I didn't have time to ask for any more of an explanation, because Scott picked up.

"Now is not the best time, Amber," he said, and I dropped the phone from my ear long enough to put him on speaker.

"You have get out of there," I said simply, laying the phone of the table. "Like, right now."

"The walls are made of a mineral called hecatolite," Stiles said, resting his palms flat against the table to lean over the phone.

"It scatters the moonlight," Peter chimed in, mirroring Stiles' position.

"What does that mean?" Scott's disembodied voice asked.

"It keeps the moonlight out," Peter continued, running an hand over his mouth. "They haven't felt the full moon in months. Think of it like the gladiators in the Roman colosseum; they used to starve the lions for three days, making them more vicious, more out of control. Deucalion has kept them from shifting for three full moons, diminishing their tolerance to it."

"Scott, they're gonna be stronger," Stiles murmured, sounding as worried as I felt.

"More savage, more bloodthirsty…"

"They'll kill you, Scott," I said, driving the point home. "They'll kill both you."

"They're the lions," Peter continued, shaking his head. "They're the starved lions, and you and Derek just stepped into the colosseum."

"Derek," Scott said, his voice still audible over the phone. "We got a problem. A really big problem."

"Scott," Stiles called into the phone, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Scott!"

The next thing we heard was roaring and clashing. And then the line went dead.


A/N: Okay, so I've sort of partially proof-read this, but sorry for any mistakes or anything else I missed. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading.

I'll see you guys next time.