By the time I got home, Mom had already picked out an outfit for me to wear to Kate's funeral. A simple black dress was laid out on my bed, the neckline resting on my collarbone, but the lack of sleeves leaving my shoulders bare. I pulled on a cardigan to fend off the cold, a thick pair of black stockings, and then knee high black boots.
I stood in front of my mirror for a few solid minutes, just staring at my reflection. The last time I'd been dressed in all black was when Kate had died, hunting the Alpha. On that night I'd looked in the mirror proudly, reveling in the power that seemed to be seeping out of me. Now I just looked sickly. My skin seemed too pale against the dark clothes, and the color brought out the dark circles under my eyes. Part of me was terrified of the idea of leaving the house, getting too close to the person who had nearly pushed me over the edge. I was almost ready to just stand in front of the mirror for the rest of the night.
But then I caught the glint on my neck. My dog tags rested just over the fabric of the dress, catching what dreary light managed to fight its way through my window. I knew what it was like to lose someone close to you. It was pure, unadulterated hell. Kate had been like Allison's sister, and not only had she physically died, but so had Allison's image of who she was. So little people knew the truth about what had happened, and Allison had only recently discovered the truth of her family herself. Even if I didn't go because of my bond with Kate, I had to go for Allison. I had to be strong.
My resolve firmed, I grabbed my leather jacket off my chair and slipped it on over the dress. Then I grabbed my purse and marched downstairs.
Mom eyed the jacket curiously when I walked into the kitchen, where she was standing behind the counter. "What happened to the coat I laid out for you?"
I shrugged, picking at the ends of my sleeves. "I guess it feels more fitting. For Kate." I watched as my mother's lips thinned into a tight line, but she didn't comment. "Can we just go?"
She sighed, hands tightening marginally around the cup of tea she was drinking, fingers tapping absent-mindedly at the handle. "Are you sure you don't want to drive yourself? I'd feel a lot better knowing that you didn't have to wait for me if you needed to get out of there."
"I'll be fine, Mom," I said quietly. "I'm gonna stay with Allison. We both had a pretty rough day at school, and uh… I think she just needs some company. You can just drop me off."
She stared at me for a few seconds, emotions flitting through her eyes faster than I could register them. But finally she closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "Okay." She set her mug aside and picked up the car keys, leading the way out to the van.
The reality of my mother's concerns didn't really hit me until we pulled up to the cemetery. The streets were packed with cars, and there was a mob of people yelling just inside the gates. My stomach began to churn again, and I felt my nerves eating away at my resolve.
"You know I'm not entirely comfortable with this, right?" my mom asked, her eyes locked on the riot taking place in the graveyard.
"Yes. You said."
"And you're still going to go?"
"Yes, Mom. I'm still going to go." I forced myself to look away from the crowd, staring into my lap and taking a few deep breaths. "I promised Allison that I would. Besides, I cared about Kate too."
"Sadie, you never knew Kate," she said, her voice practically trembling from the effort of trying to remain calm. "I know you thought that she was a great person, but that's what dangerous people do. You saw what she wanted you to see. You didn't know the real Kate, and you do not owe her anything. Even an attendance to her funeral."
It took everything I had to hold my tongue. The fact of the matter was that I did know the real Kate. I might not have known her the whole time, but now I was one of a handful of people in Beacon Hills who really knew her. We were the only ones who knew her motives for killing. We were the ones who knew that—while she far from being innocent—she wasn't the one who had been slaughtering townsfolk. We were the ones who had been with her on her last day, who saw her final moments, who watched the lights leave her eyes.
Maybe it was slightly selfish, but I felt like I was one of the people who knew Kate best of all. Because it seemed painfully clear to me that Kate and I were almost the same. She had loved her family, been passionate about her beliefs, was stubborn and reckless and hurt. She had lived a life no normal person would understand, gone through dark and dangerous things most people couldn't even imagine. There was a reason that she was the way she was. That didn't excuse her actions at all, but it did attempt to explain them. It made it just that much harder to forget the Kate that I had known, the one who laughed at my sarcastic quips, who gave me advice and teased me with sexual innuendos about Stiles, who had consoled Allison and I and made us smile on our worst days. It was hard to be consistently angry at Kate for what she did. And after I had pointed a gun at one of my best friends, felt the surge of power that nearly pushed me to pull the trigger, I almost felt like I didn't have the right. How could I hate Kate for what she'd done when I had almost started down the path to doing the same thing? I couldn't hate her. I was just scared of her. I was properly terrified that she was the person that I had the potential to become, that I was going to become. I would wind up hurting the people I loved, and then people would be talking about me like they were talking about Kate now. "Sadie was crazy. Complete psycho." "She was always dangerous. She was just good at hiding it." "You didn't know the real Sadie." "Oh, you knew her? Are you majorly fucked up too?"
I was going to Kate's funeral because I was still attached to the good part of her that I'd known. But maybe there was also a part of me that was trying to reassure myself that people would still do the same for me.
"And it's not just your relationship with Kate," Mom continued, hardly pausing at all. "It just dangerous. I mean, do you see that mob of people? That's reporters, angry neighbors, the families of her victims." I flinched at the last word, but if she noticed she didn't comment. "Things could get out of hand and then you'll all be in danger."
"Well then, I can't let Allison go through that alone, can I?" I looked over at her, trying to show my resolve. She held my gaze for a few seconds before looking away and shaking her head. I nodded just marginally to myself. She still wasn't okay with it, but at least acknowledged that there would be no stopping me. "I should go. The service is probably going to start soon. Thank you, Mom." I leaned over to the driver's side to kiss her cheek.
She sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I'm always careful," I lied with a small smile, and slid out of the car.
The noise of the crowd doubled the moment I stepped out of the van. It seemed to be mostly media people, asking for comments on the rumors about Kate's crimes. Just as mom predicted, there also seemed to be a few friends and family of the people Peter had killed. They'd stand completely still for a while before they exploded, screeching across the barrier before returning to solemn silence and tears. I tried to shake off the chill that went down my spine and eased my way along the side of the group up to the barrier.
Halfway through the crowd, a sharp elbow collided with my right arm. It was high enough that I let out an involuntary gasp of pain, as the slices Peter had left on my shoulder stung in protest. I narrowed my eyes reproachfully at the boy, who barely glanced back from his camera to mumble an apology. But suddenly, he did a double take and looked back.
He was around my age, with short brown hair and pale skin. His blue eyes were wide with shock at the moment, and to be honest I was expecting a more sincere apology. But instead, his face morphed from surprise into a deadly glare. The distain quickly fell off my face, replaced by confusion as he snarled at me. But he didn't say a word. Instead, he pushed past me, making me stumble slightly in the grass. Before I could say anything, he had disappeared among the rest of the photographers.
I huffed, though I barely heard the sound myself over all the yelling and screaming around me. Attempting to shake off my annoyance, I placed a protective hand over my injured shoulder and continued trying to reach the front of the group.
The railing had been set up several yards away from the gravesite. There was a green tarp lying on the ground, giving the illusion of flowers and a green lawn in the middle of the dead grass. The casket stood at the edge, sleek and black in the dull light. There were a few rows of chairs set up for guests as well, but I knew they must mostly be for show. There was no way that many people were attending the funeral. At the moment, only Allison and her parents sat in the front row, accompanied by two men in suits whom I assumed were running the service.
I leaned my torso over the railing, attempting to get Allison's attention. Almost immediately, one of the police officers guarding the barrier descended on me.
"Hey! Get back behind the… Sadie?"
I smiled sheepishly at Sheriff Stilinski, whose eyebrows had immediately knitted together in confusion. "Hi, Mr. Stilinski."
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low but still be heard over the rioting.
"I'm here for the funeral."
Instantly, a shadow passed over his face. It was the same worried, parental look that my mother had given me in the car, the one that said, "I completely disapprove of this idea, but you're trying to be kind so I can't be angry with you." He looked around the crowd, glanced behind him at the Argents, and then rubbed his forehead with a grimace. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Sadie."
"Allison's expecting me," I assured him. "I let her know earlier that I was coming."
"Well unfortunately her family neglected to let us know that you were coming."
I tilted my head to the side in assent. That made sense. Allison was already nervous enough about what her parents thought about me, and probably decided that if she asked them if it was okay that I come, they'd say no. They'd probably say no and then hunt me down. I understood that she wanted to avoid the confrontation, but that didn't change the fact that I was now dropping in on the family of hunters uninvited.
"Well, can I go ask them for confirmation that I'm allowed to stay?" I asked. The sheriff waffled for a moment, looking over his shoulder and then along the railing to his colleagues. I forced a small smile on my face. "Would you feel better if I had a police escort who could drag me away by the ears if it turns out I'm trespassing?"
That coaxed a reluctant chuckle from him, and after a moment he nodded. "Okay. Come on." He gently took my arm and helped me between the barriers. As soon as the crowd at my back noticed that I was being allowed entrance, their volume tripled. Sheriff Stilinski waved them all back and gestured for the other officers to control the situation. Then he rested his hand on my shoulder and walked me over to the plot.
The Argents had obviously noticed the sudden noises of protest, and immediately looked over in search of the cause. Mr. and Mrs. Argent both tensed upon seeing me, caught between worry and something akin to outrage. Allison sat between them, equally as worried about my arrival, but also looking somewhat relieved. They all stood as the sheriff and I approached, and Mr. Argent stepped forward.
"Sadie," he greeted tightly. His sharp eyes watched my every move intently, and I could barely bring myself to nod in response.
"She tells me she came for the service," the sheriff said. "I don't know if you folks were expecting her, so I thought she should come ask." There was a moment of silence as the Argents all exchanged looks.
"I invited her," Allison said abruptly, causing everyone to turn and stare at her. She fidgeted slightly, but managed to maintain her resolution. "I told her she could come." I watched as Allison's mother gave her a seething look.
Sheriff Stilinski narrowed his eyes, but turned back to her father. "It's up to you, sir."
Mr. Argent looked to his wife and held her gaze for several, silent seconds. They were clearly having some sort of silent discussion, but unlike most people, they did so without using a single muscle in their faces. No widened eyes, no raised eyebrows, no clenched jaws. Just completely blank faces. Finally, they both turned their gaze to me, eyes picking me apart inch by inch. I tried my best not to fidget, to have the same sort of silent conveying of ideas without moving, but it was harder than it looked.
"I'll handle it, Sheriff," Mr. Argent said finally, nodding dismissively but keeping his eyes trained on me.
No one moved for a couple seconds, but I felt Mr. Stilinski's hand tighten on my shoulder. I looked up to see him watching Allison's father, his eyes narrowed warily. I shrugged my shoulder slightly to catch his attention, making him look down at me.
"Thank you," I said quietly, and nodded reassuringly. He glanced back at Mr. Argent once before copying my motion. His hand slid from my shoulder to give me a gentle pat on the back, and then he turned to rejoin his colleagues at the barrier. I took a few tentative steps forward but wasn't brave enough to break the silence.
Mr. Argent waited until the sheriff was safely back at the security railing before turning his cold eyes back to me. "Sadie, while I appreciate the sentiment of your coming here, I'm not sure we're completely comfortable with the idea of your attendance." He annunciated every word clearly, almost violently, as if he believed the sharp consonants would be able to cut me like the knives he couldn't use in public.
"Because I was attacked?" I asked, glad to hear that my voice wasn't wavering.
"Yes."
I thought about defending myself, reminding them that Peter attacking me hadn't been my fault. At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself. But in the end, I held my tongue. Mrs. Argent looked about ready to make me a victim again, even with the cameras of ten different news stations watching my back. Instead, I matched her steady glare. "Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to show up if I thought there was even the slightest chance that I was turning?" Neither of them was willing to admit that I was right, but I noticed them both tense ever so slightly. I smirked internally at the victory, but kept my face passive. "I'm still human, and I've got the unhealed claw marks to prove it."
A breeze swept through the graveyard, the rustling leaves, the only sound that passed between us. We all stood still for what must have been a whole minute, and I was about ready to give up.
"Chris!" Mrs. Argent snapped suddenly, glaring at her husband. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. I saw his jaw click, even from my distance.
I hadn't noticed his resolve was softening, but apparently his wife had. I lost no time taking advantage of the weakness. "Look, if you want to turn me away in front of the media, then whatever. I'm just here to pay my respects."
Mrs. Argent's sharp eyes quickly snapped to mine, her face bordering on a dangerous, dangerous scowl. "We don't need your pity."
It was a little amazing to me how much her attitude seemed to have changed over the last few months. I'd always found Allison's mother a little intimidating, but she'd never done anything to prove it. She was polite, a great cook, always kind even if a little formal. But that was before she'd known I knew about werewolves. Now she seemed ruthless, vicious, giving me a look that definitely brought the phrase "if looks could kill" to mind. She saw me as a threat, someone who was fraternizing with the enemy and endangering her daughter by encouraging her to do the same. I was threatening everything she loved. But she was doing the same by planning to kill my friends.
"Good," I said, narrowing my eyes with as much force as I could muster. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for Allison. And for Kate."
I let my gaze flick back to Mr. Argent, who seemed to be considering the proposal. After a few seconds, he tilted his head a few inches, jerking it back as an invitation to take a seat. Mrs. Argent's hands balled into fists at her sides, but I nodded my thanks anyway.
Even with my assurance about my uncompromised species, neither of Allison's parents seemed too keen on sitting next to me. They stuck me at the end of the first row, grudgingly allowing Allison to sit on my left. But before they'd let us be, it seemed I had to be threatened one more time.
Mr. Argent bent down slightly, piercing eyes staring down at me. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully, Sadie. The other people attending this service do not know everything about the last few days. They do not know about Scott. They do not know about your involvement. They do not know that you know anything about what is going on. And if they did, it would not end well for any of us. So I highly suggest that as long as they are here, you do your best to keep quiet."
"Yes, sir," I ground out, keeping my gaze equally as steady. He nodded once and then walked away to sit with his wife on the other end of the row.
Allison slowly released a low stream of air in relief. "I am so sorry."
"It's fine. I get it," I said with a small shrug.
She turned her head to smile at me, reaching out and grabbing one of my hands. "Just…thank you. For coming."
I returned the grin, squeezing her hand gently. "You're welcome."
Allison opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it once more. She shot a stealthy side-glance at her parents, and then leaned slightly closer to me. "Are…Are you sad?"
I bit my lip for a second, but nodded. "Yeah. Aren't you?"
I only barely heard her sigh, and she slouched down slightly in her chair. Her grip on my hand tightened slightly, and I could see her feet tapping anxiously in the grass. "It feels… I don't know. It feels wrong to."
"You're allowed to be upset," I assured her. "She was your aunt."
"Yeah, and she was also responsible for burning down a house full of innocent people."
I pursed my lips, trying to force the reminder out of my mind as quickly as it had come in. "Look, Allison," I said, turning my body slightly so I could face her. "Kate did a lot of things. But I'm positive that she loved you." Allison crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, but I could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes. "No, I'm serious. What she did was wrong, but she didn't want you to get hurt. She wanted you to be safe, and she wanted you to be happy… Kate did a lot of terrible things, and you don't have to miss all of her. But you're allowed to miss the parts of her that you knew like a sister."
She looked over at me nervously, looking up through her lashes with the ghost of a smile. "That's what Scott said."
"Yeah, well I guess he's not a complete bonehead."
Allison let out a watery laugh and wiped at her eyes. I grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me and sniffled for a few seconds before we were interrupted by a commotion by the barrier.
We quickly looked up and turned as the yelling behind the railing fell into a hush. There were a few people on our side of the divider. One of them was the rude camera boy who'd elbowed me earlier. He was talking to an older man, head balding with white hair on the sides, and dressed in a neat, dark suit. He was flanked by two large men who looked like they'd been dressed by some Hollywood government agency, wearing suits and sunglasses that were definitely unnecessary in the dim winter light. But I didn't need the bodyguards to tell me that this man was important. It was written all over the way he held himself, the sharp way he narrowed his eyes, the precise fingers that disassembled some camera part that he'd taken from the boy and then discarded the pieces to the ground.
Whatever he said made the boy slink off, and the new arrivals walked towards Kate's plot. Mr. and Mrs. Argent both rose to stand immediately. I shot a curious look at Allison, but followed her lead to stay in my seat.
The man practically glided up to Allison's parents. They all hugged and there was some exchange of what looked to be quiet consolations. A few seconds later he turned, striding over to us and stopping squarely in front of Allison. She looked up slowly, her doe eyes wide with apprehension and maybe even a touch of fear.
If he noticed her distress, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he smiled. "Allison, dear, you need to stop growing. Reminds me just how old I am." She attempted a smile, but it was feeble at best. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Do you remember me?"
Allison nodded, barely moving her head an inch. She glanced to the side and I tried to give her an encouraging smile, but after a moment I realized that she wasn't actually looking at me. She was looking past me. I furrowed my brow but fought to hold my ground, just in case she didn't want to be caught looking at whatever was so interesting over my shoulder. But the man seemed to notice anyway, and his head snapped to the side, trained eyes searching for a target. After a moment, he relaxed, seeing no threat and turning back to my friend.
I slowly twisted my head to the side, glancing at the tree line out of the corner of my eye. There was a large headstone with a creepy statue of an angel atop it, but it quickly became apparent that Allison hadn't been interested in the sculpture. Behind the statue's base I could just see a shock of dark hair, and a plaid sleeve. Scott's head peeked out from the side, followed by Stiles's. He offered a small grin and a two-finger salute when he noticed me watching, and I rolled my eyes. It was sweet that they had decided to come, but they were undoubtedly going to get horrendously busted.
"Considering I haven't seen you since you were three," the man was saying when I turned my attention back to the conversation, "I don't suppose I can assume you'd call me 'Grandpa.'"
Allison smiled politely, and I raised my eyebrows just the slightest fraction. In reality, I wasn't all that surprised. I had assumed Kate's funeral would be all family, and it wasn't too hard to believe that this man was part of a long line of dangerous hunters.
Allison's grandfather seemed to pick up on her hesitation though, as he quickly continued, "So, if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being. But I'd prefer Grandpa." He sent her a small wink, as if closing the subject. I expected him to take a seat, but instead I looked up to find his sharp, calculating eyes staring down at me. "And you must be Sadie Bennet."
My mouth instantly fell open, and I turned to look at Allison for direction. But Allison seemed just as surprised as I was, eyebrows arched high over her wide eyes. Even Mr. and Mrs. Argent seemed to be panicking, shooting each other nervous side glances. So much for "the others" not knowing who I was…
Gerard notice my confusion immediately, and chuckled. "My daughter mentioned that she'd been spending quite a lot of time with Allison and one of her friends. I think you'll find she was quite fond of you two. I expect you've been taking good care of Allison in my absence?"
I shot Allison another quick side-glance before forcing myself to look him in the face. "Yes, sir," I replied. The greeting was cordial enough, but unlike most introductions, I did not offer a hand to shake. I knew enough to realize that Gerard had to be one man you did not want to mess with. He'd raised Kate, and even his own son seemed terrified of the consequences should Gerard find out he'd done something wrong. He might have been smiling at me, adding that Father Christmas twinkle in his eye, but I knew a good actor when I saw one. It was a solid façade, one that was only barely broken by his quick reflexes and the fear he incited in others. But Gerard was dangerous, and after what had happened to me with Kate, I wasn't planning on getting close to any dangerous hunters any time soon.
"Sir!" he laughed, brandishing a finger at me. "Ah, I like her." He smiled warmly at Allison, granting his approval before turning back. "Kate also told me that you were a fairly talented markswoman."
I could practically feel the tension building in the air. Allison and her parents had gone rigid, but Gerard and I both seemed to be pretending we hadn't noticed. We both kept up a casual air, as if Kate had told him I was good at baking soufflés and not that I had potential to be a werewolf killer.
"My dad was a policeman," I explained with a small shrug, "so I have a little practice."
"Ah, the police. Protectors of the peace," he said with a smile. "Considering joining the family business?"
"Actually I prefer books," I disagreed, trying to keep my voice even.
Gerard smirked. "Well there's just as much power in knowledge as any other weapon." I smiled awkwardly and bobbed my head, but froze again when he leaned forward. "I want to thank you for coming to show your support. It's nice to see the effect she had on people."
I nodded, but it was a slightly jerky action. I was trying hard not to truly think about the effect Kate had had on me, the dangerous cliff she'd pushed me to the edge of. I wanted to think about the brief good memories I had of her, not the way she corrupted me and tortured my friends. I also didn't want to think about how much Gerard might have known about the effect she'd had. His comment seemed innocent, but I knew there was probably more behind it. Could he know about all of the things Kate had made me do? Or the things she'd almost convinced me to do myself? Maybe she'd been talking to her father about it all along. Maybe she'd called him while I was changing in the hospital, right before the final showdown that was the last few minutes of her life. Maybe Gerard saw the war I was fighting inside myself—being a Kate, or being a moral, potentially dead teenage girl—and was proud to see his daughter's work.
Or maybe I was just being paranoid. That seemed to be proving a viable option. Only a few more Argents showed up for the service, each of them offering sympathetic glances towards the immediate family, each of them shooting me an inquisitive, reproachful glare. Was it just because I was a stranger? An outsider to the family? Or was it because they knew what I'd almost done? Were they evaluating looks, wanting to test how far they could push me? Or were they disgusted that I could even think about doing something so horrible, that I might grow up to break the code just like Kate had? Was Allison leaning away from me because she'd remembered I'd almost shot her boyfriend? Was the man leaning the service watching me? Was everyone just waiting for me to snap?
"Pretty much, kid."
I froze as the voice rang clear throughout my head. No, no, no. It was only in my head, and I could shut it down. I had to stop being stupid and stop imagining things.
"Oh, come on, Sadie," Kate's voice snickered from the back of my skull. "I think we both know that self control doesn't really work like that, right?"
I nervously glanced over at Allison, but her teary eyes were still locked on Kate's casket. No one else seemed to think anything had changed. They were all listening intently to the words being said, muttering responses to prayers at the appropriate times.
"Just you and me, honey. I mean, yeah, they're my family or whatever but I don't think I had such a profound effect on them, you know?"
I blinked hard, staring intently at the grass at my feet. "Stop."
"I mean you, Sadie—you're truly a piece of work. My little protégé. I would have had you slashing up shifters in a heartbeat, thriving on the danger and the power. Who knows? Maybe I still will."
"I said stop."
"I mean, the rate you're going you're obviously gonna freak out. I mean, you are literally hearing me in your head. That just can't be healthy."
"Stop. Please just stop."
"Sweetheart, I wish it was that easy. Well, actually, I don't. But this isn't about me. This is about you. The real you. Cause you know that you're not gonna be able to run from it forever. And the sooner you accept that you are just as dangerous and terrible and bloodthirsty and psychotic as I was, the sooner everyone can leave you behind and the better off everyone will be."
"STOP!"
"Sadie?"
I jumped slightly in my seat, looking up to find Allison standing next to me, looking down in concern. She was holding a lily in each hand, one of which was being held out to me. She seemed to be the only person that noticed something was wrong though. Everyone else was standing, lining up with flowers in their hands to drop on the coffin, which had already been lowered into the ground. I looked around in slight bewilderment, blinking tears out of my eyes that I wasn't aware had been forming.
"Are you okay?" Allison asked.
I swiftly nodded, wiping the tears from my face and standing up. I grabbed the flower from her hand and followed her over to the queue. I tried to avoid eye contact and keep my head down, as if people would be able to understand what was in my head just by looking at me. Allison sent me a few curious, worried looks, but didn't question it outright.
Gerard went first, dropping his lily and standing by the grave for a few seconds before moving to stand at the head of the hole. Then the rest of the line proceeded, each saying goodbye to Kate and then offering their condolences once more to her father. As I approached the coffin, I tried to focus on the good times I had experienced with Kate. Going out to lunch, getting ready for the party on Halloween. That was the Kate I wanted to remember. But it was hard to focus when her voice still seemed to be giggling in the back of my head. A few tears of frustration leaked out of my eyes and I dropped the lily on top of the others. I simply nodded to Gerard, then hurried back to my seat, suddenly anxious for the whole ordeal to be over with.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long. People began leaving only a few minutes after the flowers were gone, and I took my cue to stand up and swing my bag back on my shoulder. Allison stood next to me, pulling me into a tight hug and letting her forehead rest on my shoulder for a few seconds.
"Thank you so much for coming," she whispered, finally pulling away. "All of this has just been so crazy, and…"
"Hey, it's okay," I dismissed, forcing a hollow smile on my face. "I get it."
She eyed my expression warily, immediately picking up on the fact that it wasn't completely genuine. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." I waved her off and closed my eyes, hoping she wouldn't be able to tell that I was lying. "Although I'm probably gonna need to find a new ride home. I'm not sure you house is the, uh…safest place for me to be right now."
Allison winced. "I'm seriously so sorry."
"And I'm seriously okay with it. I'll just find Stiles and Scott or something. Sure they're prowling around here somewhere." I fished my phone out of my purse, surprised to find that there was already a text from Stiles waiting for me.
"Hey, when you get the chance, could you let Scott and I out of the back of my dad's cruiser?"
I chuckled and rolled my eyes.
"What?" Allison asked as I tucked my phone away.
"Nothing, nothing. They just got busted by the sheriff is all. Looks like I have to go play the knight in shining armor or whatever."
She nodded shyly, glancing around to make sure her parents were well out of earshot, immersed in a conversation with Gerard. "Can you…? Just, thank Scott for coming. It meant a lot to me."
I smirked and rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Got it. Deliver the love letter promptly."
"Seriously?" She pushed my shoulder slightly and then gave me a pointed look. "It was sweet of both of them to come. But I don't think Stiles was here for me."
"Okay, and that's my cue to go," I said quickly, clenching the straps on my purse. "I love you, and I will see you later."
Before she could do anything more than shake her head at me, I was walking away. I nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Argent, and then tried my best to avoid the press as I made my way out of the graveyard once more.
It wasn't that hard to find Scott and Stiles. There was still a small group of cruisers in the parking lot—all officers who had been brought in for security purposes. I could recognize Sheriff Stilinski from a mile away, even if I hadn't seen the two figures slouching in his back seat. I crept up behind the car, trying to stay low and move quickly in case he decided to glance in one of his mirrors. I splayed my hand over the glass window of the back door when I reached it, making the boys jump slightly, but not startling them enough to make any noise. Then, very carefully, I pried the back door open, letting Stiles and Scott scramble as quietly as they could out of the car.
I was ready to close the door too, but Stiles grabbed my arm and was pulling me towards the tree line before I could comprehend what was happening. "Nope!" he whispered. "Leave it, leave it. Go, go, go!"
Bewildered, I followed his directions and ran into the forest. It took me a few minutes to catch up, what with my heels, but eventually I found them standing well out of sight, panting slightly. "Yeah, you're welcome, assholes," I shot, angrily brushing dirt and leaves from my dress.
Stiles ignored the attitude, sending me the smallest of smiles. "Have I ever complimented you on your impeccable sense of timing?"
"Um, no?" I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly the most punctual person."
"We just heard the sheriff get a call on his radio," Scott explained, looking much more serious than Stiles had a moment ago.
"A 415A," he said. Suddenly, he looked just as grave as his friend.
"Okay? What does a um, disturbance in a car have to do with us?"
"Not just any car. An ambulance," Stiles explained as Scott glanced between the two of us. "Ambulance with a DOA heart attack victim got hit on the side of the road. Blood everywhere. Apparently something got into the back."
"Or someone," Scott added, looking at me sadly.
My stomach suddenly seemed to turn to ice. He didn't need to say anything more than that. First the liver snatching grave robber, now a corpse torn apart in an ambulance, and Lydia was still missing. If it had been her, it was getting more and more important that we find her. The second victim had only been recently deceased, and there was no telling when she might start looking for fresher morsels.
"Okay," I forced myself to say. "We uh…we know where we're going?"
At a pointed look from Stiles, Scott nodded. "Yeah, just um, follow me. And stay close." He turned and led the way deeper into the forest, leaving Stiles and I to follow after him.
We walked in silence for a few minutes, Scott going ahead while Stiles and I walked in sync behind him. He kept his hand on my elbow, holding back branches for me and doing his best to help me navigate through the dead leaves in my ridiculously impractical boots.
"If I'd known I was going hiking, I would have worn sneakers," I grumbled as Stiles helped me over a log.
He left out a soft laugh and guided me to the ground. He slid his hand lower on my arm, so he was holding my wrist instead of my forearm. "I'd offer to carry you, but I'm pretty sure that my complete lack of upper body strength would only make things worse."
"Guess it's the thought that counts," I chuckled.
"I could offer for Scott to carry you?" he said, perking up slightly.
My small smile spread farther over my face and I rolled my eyes. "Really, Stiles, I'm fine."
"You sure about that?" he asked as one of my heels plunged into the dirt. I swatted at his chest, pulling my foot up and reminding myself for the hundredth time that I should be trying to walk on the balls of my feet. "No, really," he continued, cautiously taking my hand instead this time. "Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
He didn't answer straight away, and his hand felt clammy on my skin, even in the cold. "It's just… Scott said he could hear your heartbeat during the funeral, like going crazy. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
I could see Scott falter in his stride ahead of us, more than aware that my heart rate had spiked again. For a moment, I debated telling them what had happened to me back at the graveyard, the dialogue that had been running in my head. But there were more important things to worry about, weren't there? We were already running against the clock trying to find Lydia, who may or may not have been mangling corpses. I didn't need Stiles and Scott worrying about my sanity too. That, and partially that I was just too afraid to tell them. Maybe telling them what I'd thought would make them realize that Kate had been right, and it would be best to leave me behind.
"I'm okay," I said after a few seconds. "I promise."
Stiles looked only marginally reassured, and when Scott glanced back at us, I noticed that he actually seemed more worried than ever. Obviously he knew that I was lying. But that didn't really matter at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that they didn't know the truth. And that was something no werewolf could discern from my heartbeat.
By the time we'd walked around the woods to the part of town where the ambulance had been ambushed, it was already dark out. Stiles was practically dragging me through the leaves by that point. My feet were sore, I was freezing, and I was exhausted. But I had to keep walking, because we needed to find Lydia.
We edged up the hill that led up to the road, kneeling in the dirt and trying to keep low. There were a few cop cars parked around with their lights flashing, the officers milling around as they tried to figure out what might have happened. The ambulance was still there, back doors swung wide open to reveal the carnage inside. The man was still lying back on the stretcher, but blood now coated almost every inch of him, seeping through his shirt and painting the once sterile, white walls of the vehicle. I bit my lip and let my nails dig into the dirt as I forced myself to look away.
Stiles shot me a nervous glance before leaning over to Scott. "What the hell is Lydia doing?" I knew he was trying to keep his voice low, so that I wouldn't hear him and I wouldn't have to face the question. But even if I hadn't heard him say it, the question was hanging in the air, impossible to ignore. I didn't want to imagine Lydia doing this. I couldn't.
"I don't know," Scott said quietly.
"Okay, what kept you from doing that?" Stiles asked. "Was it Allison?"
"I hope so," he answered quietly.
I could feel Stiles glance over at me again, but I kept my eyes glued to the ground. Sure, Scott's love of Allison had kept him grounded, but what did Lydia have? She loved Jackson, but he hadn't exactly been the most receptive person in the last couple weeks. If this was her—and I forced myself to say if as if it weren't—then she needed an anchor, something she very clearly did not have.
The leaves rustled as Stiles anxiously tapped his fingers against the ground, shooting me a series of nervous looks before turning back to Scott. "Do you need to get closer?"
I heard Scott sniff at the air for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I got it." There were a few tense seconds as he tried to lock onto the scent, then pushed himself to his feet so he could follow it.
But before he could make it even a step, Stiles's arm shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder. He glanced back at me before pulling Scott a few steps away. They conversed in whispers for a few seconds, looking towards me every few seconds. I wanted to know what they were saying, but for some reason I couldn't seem to move. It was as if forcing myself to not look at the ambulance, to not consider the possibilities of Lydia's state, had completely drained my energy. Eventually, I saw Scott nod, and he and Stiles both walked back in my direction.
"Sadie, I'm gonna find her," Scott promised. "I will."
"Thanks," I said quietly. He nodded, and then turned to jog into the forest. I quickly scrambled to my feet, but Stiles stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "What are you doing? We've gotta go."
"Sadie, he's gonna find Lydia. It'll be okay."
"Yeah, I know, Stiles," I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. "And I'm gonna be there when he does."
He sighed. "Sadie…"
"No! No, Stiles! I did the whole go home and try and get some rest thing yesterday. And you know what? It sucked. I am not giving up!"
"I'm not asking you to give up," he pleaded. "I'm asking you to let Scott find her. You need to…"
"I'm fine, Stiles!" I snapped.
"No, you're not!" he burst. "Look, Scott heard you freaking out during the funeral, and even if he didn't, I can see there's something wrong. Maybe it's just Lydia, maybe it's not. If you don't want to tell me, fine, but don't expect me to just accept that you're okay."
We stood in silence for a minute, breath coming out in crystalized puffs in the darkness as we stared at each other. I wanted to hold my ground, fight for my right to search for my best friend, but even the small argument with Stiles seemed to have exhausted me. I sighed, wrapping my arms tight around my torso and giving in. "Fine. Back to the Jeep."
I moved to take a few steps forward into the woods, but Stiles moved in my way to block the path. "Are you kidding? Sadie you look like you're gonna freeze. Come on. Dad'll drop us off at the cemetery, and then I'll drive you home." He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me on the spot. Then his hand slid down to my back as he helped push me up the hill.
"Aren't you a little worried about facing him after you broke out of the cruiser?" I asked tiredly.
Stiles snorted. "Like it's the worst thing I've done. Besides, you're the one who sprung us, so I don't see why I have anything to worry about."
That managed to coax a small smile out of me. Stiles grinned, rubbing my back soothingly for a few seconds. He dropped his hand as we walked farther down the road, closer to the flashing lights of the accident. Then, it was only a minute before the sheriff spotted us and started walking in our direction, arms crossed over his chest.
"Uh, hey Dad."
"Stiles," he greeted, nodding stiffly. "And the third accomplice."
I winced, but lifted my hand in a feeble wave. "Hey, Sheriff Stilinski."
"You know, I could probably have you arrested for breaking delinquents out of the back of a police patrol car."
"I know they're annoying, but they're not really delinquents," I said with a shrug. "And I wasn't really breaking. The door was unlocked."
The sheriff shook his head, wiping his palm across his forehead in that frustrated way of his. "Sadie, stuff like that can still get you in a lot of trouble."
"Am I in a lot of trouble?" I asked meekly.
Mr. Stilinski stared at me for a few seconds before heaving a tremendous sigh and shaking his head. "Not tonight. And I know it doesn't mean anything to you two but please don't do it again?"
"Again? Psh!" Stiles chuckled nervously, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Why—Why would be do it again? We're practically saints, Dad."
"Stop talking, Stiles," Mr. Stilinski said. He was still shaking his head, but there was a distinct smile tugging at his lips. "Do I want to know what you two are doing here?"
"We just need a lift back to the cemetery," Stiles explained, removing his arm from my shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. "So I can get my Jeep."
"And why do you not have the Jeep?"
"I, uh… We—We do not have the Jeep be-because we went on a walk."
"You went on a walk?"
"Yes. Yes, Dad, we went on a walk."
"Why were you walking through the woods at this time of night?" the sheriff asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Because of me," I said, making both of them turn to me. "I wanted to look for Lydia."
Their faces softened almost immediately, the sheriff out of sympathy, and Stiles because he knew that was actually the truth for once.
"You realize that's not safe, right?" Mr. Stilinski asked, dropping his arms from his chest to his hips.
"It's not safe for her to be out there either," I argued, and he cocked his head to the side in reluctant agreement. "You still haven't heard anything?"
"No," he sighed. "Unfortunately, we still haven't heard anything. We sent out the search parties today, but between a missing girl, a grave robbery, funeral security and this, the force is a little spread out."
"And what exactly is this?" Stiles piped up, turning to walk towards the wreckage.
"We're not sure," the sheriff said, grabbing his son by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from the accident. "And if we're not sure, then the last thing we need is you poking around."
"What, me?" Stiles asked, raising a finger. "I'm—I'm not poking around."
"That's right. You're not. Because you're going to get in the car, get the Jeep, drive Sadie home, and then you're going to stay in your room just like you were supposed to stay in the cruiser this afternoon."
"Does it have to be my room? I mean, like, can I be in the living room? Or like, the kitchen?"
"Stiles…"
"No seriously! I wouldn't want to accidentally violate the terms of my punishment because you weren't specific enough. What if I have to go to the bathroom?"
A small smile made its way onto my face as the two continued to bicker, one crack after another. I was just about to make a joke myself—that it wasn't that hard to spend the whole night in your room. I'd done it the previous night. Until I remembered that last night I hadn't spent the night in my room. I'd spent it in Lydia's. Because she was gone.
My stomach lurched and the smile quickly fell off my face. Mr. Stilinski had said that Lydia's search parties had gone out today—students and parents and teachers all scouring the woods for her. And where had I been? At Kate's funeral, with a bunch of people who were planning to hunt Lydia down and then, if they thought she was a threat, put her down. And then I'd gone traipsing in the woods with Stiles and Scott. The woods where she was presumably still running around, lost and scared. Had I even been paying attention? We could have walked right past her, or a clue to where she was, a long piece of strawberry blonde hair snagged on a branch that could tell us what direction she'd been going in. We'd been in the forest and I couldn't even remember whether or not I'd thought to keep an eye out for her. I'd just been worried about my shoes, about Stiles, about myself. And then I'd let Scott go off by himself to look for her so that Stiles could take me home. What kind of a friend did that make me, especially when I was one of the reasons she was out there in the first place? I was failing her. I was failing Lydia, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
I felt my eyes start to sting and blinked hard. I really did not want to break down and start crying. Not in front of all those people, Stiles and his dad. I was so tired of seeming weak, and I didn't think I could handle a single person worrying about me again when my first priority should have been Lydia.
But the stinging wouldn't stop. It was getting hard to see through the water welling up in my eyes, and I could hear my breath getting shaky. I glanced between the Stilinskis, but neither of them seemed to have noticed anything was wrong with me yet.
Making a snap decision, I turned toward the nearest cruiser. It looked like the sheriff's but I couldn't really tell. And at the moment, I didn't really care. I just needed to get away.
I was about halfway to the car when I heard it. There was a rustling coming from just beyond the trees on the side of the road. Normally I would have brushed it off as a squirrel or something, but for some reason, the sound made me freeze on the spot. Maybe I was still skittish after the attack. Maybe it was because I was so worried about something happening to Lydia. All I knew was that the possibility of something moving in the trees made me stop dead in my tracks.
One of the tree branches swayed slightly, and my breath caught in my throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, a pale hand reached out of the darkness, shaking violently like one of the dead leaves on the branches it pulled aside. The hand was followed by an arm, attached to a trembling naked body, belonging to a terrified girl with wide eyes and wild red hair. She shuffled out from the foliage, huge eyes focused on the ground. There were leaves trapped in her tangled hair, dirt smeared over her bare skin. The only thing she wore was a white hospital bracelet, still wrapped around her wrist after two days of wandering in the woods.
"Lydia?" I breathed. The whole world seemed deadly silent, though whether that was because everyone else had noticed her too or because I'd blocked out everything that was not Lydia, I wasn't sure. I took a step forward, but she seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of her eye and flinched. I forced myself to come to a stop again. "Lyd?" Her eyes finally flicked up to mine, still watery and out of focus for a moment. I was certain that the silence behind me was real now, everyone watching with baited breath as she inched her way onto the road. "Lydia?" I asked one last time. She snapped her mouth shut, swallowed, and nodded.
With that confirmation, my world snapped into motion once more. I leapt forward, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her shivering body, burying my face in her hair and finally letting the tears fall out of my eyes. I could hear myself talking, sobbing and muttering apologies and thank you's and prayers and whatever else wanted to pour out of my mouth. I tried to pat down her hair as soothingly as I could, but it was a tangled mass and my hands were trembling violently. I settled for hugging her, adamant to never let go in case she slipped through my fingers once more. I couldn't handle that.
It took me a few seconds to remember that Lydia was shivering too, infinitely more than I was. I pressed my palms flat against her skin and instantly pulled them back, like I'd laid them on a slab of ice. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. Here, here, here, I'm sorry." I promptly ripped off my leather jacket, grabbing her hands so I could guide her arms into the sleeves. I pulled my cardigan off too, and did my best to tie it sideways around her waist like a skirt. She made a soft coughing sound as she tried to speak, but I was already yanking off my boots, helping her step into them even though her feet were smeared with mud and blood. "Do you want the dress too?" I asked frantically, reaching back for the zipper.
"No," she managed to say. Her voice was hoarse and shaky, and the word came out muffled, as if her lips were still trying to remember how to form words. But at least she could speak.
I narrowed my eyes at her, the back of my dress already undone. "Lydia, you are taking this dress. You've been outside, naked for over twenty-four hours. It's a miracle you're not frozen solid."
"And I'd rather freeze to death than wear something that hideous. Seriously, where did you even get that?"
I stared at her for a moment, emotions incessantly shifting between fear, guilt, frustration, amusement and mind-numbing relief. In the end, the last one won out. I released a watery bark of laughter and launched myself at her again, kissing her head before securing her against my chest.
I heard her let out the ghost of a laugh too, relieved to be alive, relieved to be back, relieved that her attempt to seem normal had been accepted for the moment. She wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me as tightly as she could in her weakened state. She propped her head on my shoulder. "Are you all just going to stand there and gawk at the two half-naked teenagers? Because some help would be appreciated!"
My face split into a wide, genuine smile for the first time in days, and I pulled back from Lydia to wipe my eyes. I looked over my shoulder to find everyone staring at us, some apprehensive, some clearly relieved. But no one nearly as comical as Stiles.
His jaw was hanging completely slack, and even from this distance I could see the red splotches forming in his cheeks. His maple eyes were wide, locked on Lydia and I as they darted from inch to inch of exposed skin. It was pretty amusing when I thought he was only staring at the recently naked Lydia Martin, but I'd done a fairly good job of covering her. It wasn't until a breeze blew across the road and I shivered that I remembered that I'd undone the back of my dress in preparation for giving it to Lydia, and was now showing off my bare back and bra straps to half the police force of Beacon Hills, my crush, and his father.
My cheeks seemed to sear as the blood rushed to my face, and I hurriedly turned around and scrambled to do up my dress once more. But Stiles didn't seem to mind. He stood there gaping, one hand absent-mindedly reaching for his dad's jacket as if he were going to pull it off. He took about half a step toward us and then toppled forward, tripping over his own feet and careening to the ground. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and Lydia snorted next to me.
Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes in exasperation, pulling off his own jacket and stepping over his son's flailing body. "Yeah. Here you go." He jogged over to us, wrapping the coat around Lydia's shoulders as a second layer. It was long on her, coming down around her thighs and thankfully covering everything that my cardigan couldn't.
I helped her zip the jacket up to her chin, her own fingers still trembling too much from the cold. Then I wound one of her arms around my shoulders, and wrapped one of mine around her waist. "Come on. Let's get you to the hospital."
The sheriff rested a careful hand on her shoulder, and we helped her shuffle forward towards the cruiser. Stiles had scrambled to his feet and rushed over with his hands outstretched, looking for someway to help.
"Don't even think about it, Stilinski," Lydia shot.
He immediately took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender and grimacing. He shot me a nervous look and moved his hands to rub at the back of his neck.
I bit my lip and ducked my head, trying to concentrate on the thin arm wrapped around me. I had to take care of Lydia. She was back, and I was relieved, but I had to make sure that she was okay.
The sheriff helped her get into the back seat of the cruiser and then jumped into the driver's seat. I sent her a small smile through the window, and then rushed around to the passenger side. I was about to get in when Stiles stepped in front of me, his cheeks still pink and his plaid over-shirt in his hands.
I raised my eyebrows, letting my eyes trail down his bare arms where his hair stood up on end. "No really, Stiles, I'm fine. Put your shirt back on."
"Hey, at least I have pants," he countered, nodding to my stockings, which suddenly felt a lot less thick then they had when I put them on that afternoon. I shuffled on my feet, still blushing slightly, but Stiles just brandished the shirt at me again. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Shirt. Come on."
I made a show of rolling my eyes, and snatched the shirt out of his hands. I pulled my hair over one shoulder, sliding my arms through the warm, flannel sleeves and tugging the shirt tight around my torso. He smiled at me, one of those small, sweet smiles that made my stomach jump into my chest. I pressed my lips together, trying to force the pleased smirk off my face, and mumbled my thanks. Then I quickly ducked into the car and shut the door behind me.
Even if Lydia's attitude was completely intact, she'd still been wandering around the woods for forty-eight hours. The backseat of the police cruiser was probably the first place she'd sat down since her hospital bed. As soon as she'd climbed inside, the exhaustion seemed to catch up with her. She was curled up on her side, hands lying under her head with her knees curled up to her chest. As gently as I could, I slid her closer to me, letting her rest her head in my lap as I grabbed my phone from my purse.
Sheriff Stilinski threw the car into drive once his son was safely situated in the front seat. As soon as we were well on our way to the hospital, I called Lydia's mother. She was frantic, but obviously relieved. She broke down crying on the other end, thanking me and the sheriff and God and whoever else she could think of for keeping her baby safe. I told her that she should meet us at the hospital, and once I was sure that she would tell everyone else that needed to know—namely my mother and the cringe-worthy Mr. Martin—I hung up the phone. Judging by the incessant tapping from the front passenger side, Stiles had already told Scott and Allison that we'd found Lydia, so after a quick text to my mother I dropped my phone back into my bag.
I went to work trying to pick the leaves out of Lydia's hair. It was difficult, trying to pry them out without pulling on the knots in her locks, but it gave me something to focus on, something productive to do that also allowed me to focus all my energy on my best friend.
I was almost done when she shifted in my lap, turning her head to blink up at me.
"Sorry," I whispered with a teary smile. "Did I wake you up?"
Lydia's face scrunched up slightly and moved her head, but the action was so small I couldn't tell whether it was a shake or a nod. She licked at her chapped lips and then winced, pushing herself closer to me. "I don't want to sleep. I can't..."
I gave her a tight smile as my eyes began to tear up again. "It's okay. You're back, Lydia. And I'm not going to let anything else happen to you. I promise."
She blinked up at me for a few seconds, then grabbed one of my arms and pulled it to her chest, snuggling it close to her for security. I had a brief flashback to the first time we'd been attacked together, Lydia curled up in the fetal position in bed, then drugged up and loopy and hugging my arm to her chest. Everything had been so much simpler then. I hadn't been hiding anything from her, because I hadn't known anything myself. It only took a glance to the front seat to remind me I didn't wish that none of it had happened, but God, what I wouldn't give to be able to keep Lydia out of it.
"Thank you," she mumbled, letting her eyes droop closed again.
My smile faltered, and I gently brushed the hair out of her face.
"Don't thank me yet."
A/N: Whoo-hoo! Some tension filled scenes, and now Lydia is back! I didn't think I was going to be able to update until later this week, but apparently my ability to procrastinate is stronger than I thought. So I'm uploading this now as a reward for making it through 66% of my finals before I go study for my last one.
Thank you for all your support, reading and following and messaging. Thank you for the lovely reviews I got from emele807, a. Paper. heaRt, randi101, Emmalee Adams, AliCullen, kenhat, Bookiee, TWsos12345, Guest, LionHeartMisfit, TwilightWorshipper14, jay, Dark G0ddess, MessintheMirror, kaljara, and Holly.
So excited to hear what you think of these new developments. Let me know!
-Brittney