Chapter 5: Clueless

"Sometimes it's our secrets that define us."
—Britney Spears

Allison rushed around her room getting ready, pulling on clothing and brushing her hair and teeth. When she'd finished she was halfway out of he front door before she realized she didn't have her bag with her.

"Dad," she called, rushing back into the kitchen. Chris Argent was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and reading the newspaper. He looked up when she entered, and put the paper down. "Have you seen my purse?" She asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "Good morning, Allison," he said pleasantly.

Allison sighed. "Morning dad," she said.

He smiled. "Now which purse would this be?" He asked. "The red one or the black one?"

"I don't have a red one," she said. "I'm looking for the burgundy one,"

Her father furrowed his brow. "And that's different from the red one?"

Allison gave him a look, unable to tell if he was joking or not. "Dad, burgundy is not red. It's darker and kind of purple... It's a whole different colour," Allison bit her lip, thinking over what she'd just said. Once she wouldn't have cared if her Dad has mistaken the colour of her bag. Clearly, this was Lydia's influence.

Chris nodded, and seemed to consider this. "Your dark red purse is in the closet," he said.

Allison sighed again, went to the closet and grabbed her purse. "Thank you," she said. "I'll be home for dinner, alright?"

"Wait, wait," Chris called. "Where are you going?"

Allison stopped, and turned back. A year ago, she would have been forced to lie to him. It was part of their agreement; no more hunting if they stayed in Beacon Hills. Allison broke their agreement almost immediately... And since found out that her father had as well. All the time she and her friends had been investigating the Hastings sisters, her father was conducting his own investigation, examining the crime scenes and interviewing witnesses. He hadn't gotten very far, but that wasn't difficult to understand. Chris was a talented hunter, but he hadn't had one of the sisters passing him info like Allison.

In the end they'd had a long talk, about their relationship as father and daughter. With so many members of their family dead or gone, it was more important than ever that they stick together. But, they'd agreed, this town needed them to be more than just father and daughter. It needed them to be hunters.

"Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger leurs-même." That was the new code Allison had thought of, and her father agreed to abide by it. They would be hunters again, but more than that, they would be protectors.

"We're examining Ilse Einarrson's house, trying to find some clues as to why those girls might want her dead," Allison explained.

Chris nodded. "Good plan. If you need any help—"

"I'll call you," Allison finished.

"Good, and promise me you'll—" Chris began, but this time was interrupted by his cellphone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered it. "Chris Argent. Yes..."

Allison waved goodbye to her Dad, who nodded back. She slipped quietly out of the apartment, and headed to her car. She would be picking Scott up along the way, as Ilse Einarrson lived far away and he didn't want to put so much mileage on his bike if he could avoid it.

As she pulled up to Scott's house, her stomach did small flips. She told it to stop, that it and she were being silly, but it did no good. She was nervous. She would be spending almost a half an hour alone with Scott, with nothing to do but talk. When was the last time they'd spent so much time alone, with nothing to focus on but each other?

She knew the answer immediately. Three months ago, right at the start of their end of year exams, they were studying with Stiles when he'd mysteriously come over ill and gone home, leaving them alone together. They'd tried to continue to focus on their studying, but it hadn't worked.

Alone at Scott's house, with his mother working late... something strange came over Allison. She realized, quite painfully, how much she missed Scott. Missed being more than his friend, more than his ally... she missed being his girlfriend.

She kissed him. Embarrassed, she'd left right away and avoided talking to him about it since. But she couldn't get it out of her head, the way it had felt and all the feelings it brought back up to the surface... feelings that she'd never quite been able to get rid off.

After the death of her mother, after being manipulated by Gerard and assisting him in brutalizing Derek's pack and Scott, Allison had been a wreck. She'd needed time away from Scott to figure out who she was on her own, and what it meant to her to be a hunter. She couldn't do that while dating someone, especially not a werewolf.

But she'd had time now, hadn't she? It had been over a year since their break-up, over a year since the death of her mother and her grandfathers betrayal. She knew who she was now, and what she stood for. She had grown, and changed, become stronger, as both a person and a hunter. Werewolves, the supernatural, they were not the enemy, she knew. It was people, individuals who made a choice to do harm to others, people who preyed on those they saw as weaker than themselves. Those who harmed the innocent, and chose to use their power to commit monstrous acts... they were the enemy.

Yes, she'd had time to grow and change... and so had Scott. He had become a real leader, not fearless but strong, a fighter for what was right and a defender of the weak. They worked together to protect Beacon Hills as allies, and Allison knew she was not wrong to call him a friend... but did they still have a chance to be more than that? Allison wasn't sure... perhaps too much time had passed, perhaps too much had changed. While Allison had taken her time to grow and sort herself out, had Scott moved on? She couldn't say, though if he had she knew she wouldn't blame him.

"Hey, what's up?" Scott asked, startling Allison as he got into the passenger seat. "You okay?"

Allison nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," She said. "Just thinking about things," She laughed nervously.

Scott nodded as well. "Yeah, things have been pretty crazy lately, even by our standards," He agreed. "First the aluka, now brain eating girls..." He shook his head. "It's a lot," He peered at her, and Allison shivered slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Allison said, swallowing. "What?" Her stomach flipped nervously again as her mind ran through all the things he could possibly ask her.

"The aluka, they were completely vampires, right?"

Allison blinked. "What? Oh..." She tried not to be disappointed. "Oh, yeah they were. Absolutely,"

"Right, see I don't know why Stiles just refuses to admit that," Scott said, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, they drank blood, they couldn't go in the sunlight—clearly vampires!"

Allison shrugged. "It's Stiles, who ever knows what's going through his mind..." She said, backing out of the driveway.

Jackson walked down the street next to Derek, wondering what he would have to do to get Derek to put his arm around him. If he asked, Derek would probably agree, but he didn't want to be so obvious about it. He wanted it to occur naturally... but it wasn't, so clearly he was going to have to manipulate things.

A year ago, Jackson had come out to his parents, and informed them of his relationship with Derek. Jackson marked that as his official coming out, as he couldn't think of anyone else who had any right to know. His pack knew, his friends knew, and his parents knew. Who else had to?

Despite being out, Jackson had kept his relationship with Derek more or less a general secret. They didn't act like a couple in public, and they didn't go on dates out in the open. This was due to his legally being a minor, and Derek legally being old.

But two months ago, Jackson turned 18, and for him that changed everything. Now, who cared if someone saw them together? Jackson was an adult, and legally entitled to screw the brains out of anyone he so chose to. Unsurprisingly, he chose Derek.

Derek, however, was yet to adjust to the change.

Trying to appear casual, Jackson took a step closer to Derek, so they were walking with their arms pressed against one another. Derek looked over his shoulder, and not at Jackson. He frowned. Jackson frowned too. "So, where are we headed again?" He asked, trying to grab Derek's attention.

"Hmm? Oh, Landis didn't have the book I was looking for, so we're checking another place I know has a lot supernatural literature," Derek explained, glancing briefly at Jackson before returning his attention across the street.

Jackson nodded. "Right... good thing it's a nice day, right?" He said. Derek didn't reply. "And it's nice to be able to walk like this... together, I mean. As a couple... letting people know we're a couple,"

Derek turned back to him, frowning deeply. "A couple of what?" He asked. Jackson stared at him, unsure of how to answer that. What the hell was going on with him?

Realization appeared on Derek's face, and he rubbed his eyes. "Right, a couple..." He mumbled. "Sorry, I'm distracted,"

"Clearly," Jackson said. "What's going on?"

Derek frowned. "I think I'm being followed," He said.

"What?" Jackson looked around, as if expecting to see an immediately suspicious figure trailing them. "By who?"

"I don't know, I just... I keep catching this scent..." Derek shook his head. "It's been going on for a few days now. They're keeping their distance whoever they are, and I can't get anything strong, it's just the slightest trace..." He gritted his teeth. "It's driving me nuts,"

"Do you think it's those girls?" Jackson asked. "The ones who killed that woman and ate her brain?" A knot began to tie itself in his stomach. First they were following Boyd, and now Derek? It was bad enough that there was someone new committing murders in town, but to think they had some kind of personal interest in them...

"I don't know," Derek said. "And we're just assuming it was them following Boyd, so don't start worrying yet," He paused, and then added. "It's probably nothing,"

Jackson gave him a look. "Derek, this is Beacon Hills," He said. "How often is it ever nothing?"

Derek sighed. "You're right," He said. "It's always something,"

"And never something good,"

Derek nodded. After a moment, his put arm over Jackson's shoulder, pulling him in close.

They said nothing more.

Ilse Einarrson lived in a small, neat townhouse in downtown Beacon Hills. Allison picked the lock to her front door, and they entered quietly. "So what are we looking for exactly?" Scott asked, picking up a book on Ilse's coffee table. Allison saw the cover read "Eat, Pray, Love." There was a bookmark in the middle, and Allison felt a small pang as she realized that Ilse would never finish it.

"Anything that tells us why she might have been the target for murder," Stiles said, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. "Or what someone might've wanted with her brain, outside of the obvious—"

"Stiles, we ruled out zombies," Allison said, exasperated. "Move on,"

Stiles scrunched his face up, but said nothing. He turned to Scott. "Dude, gloves!" He said. "You're getting your prints everywhere!"

"So?" Scott asked, putting the book down. "Your Dad said the police were already here. They're not going to come back, right?"

"They might, you don't know," Stiles said, picking the book back up and cleaning off Scott's prints with his hoodie. "Just put your gloves on, okay?"

"I didn't bring gloves," Scott said.

Stiles looked horrified. "You didn't bring gloves," He looked around at Allison and Lydia. "He didn't bring gloves,"

Scott rolled his eyes. "It's not a big deal,"

"We're breaking into the home of a victim at the center of an on-going homicide investigation!" Stiles cried. "Of course it's a big deal!"

Scott looked at Allison. "Did you bring gloves?" He asked.

Allison nodded, raising her gloved hands sheepishly.

"So did I," Lydia added. "I want to help solve this, but I'm not going to go to jail because of it, thank you very much,"

Scott sighed, and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. "There, happy?" He asked.

"Elated," Stiles replied. "Alright, let's get started," He said.

Scott and Stiles stayed in the living room to search for clues, while Lydia and Allison took the bedroom. Allison had to admit, she felt extremely creepy going through the belongings of a dead woman. It wasn't the first time they'd done something like this, but she hoped it was never something she became used to.

"I found something," Lydia said. She was standing by the bedside table, looking behind it. "There's some kind of panel hidden here," She said. Allison came over, and Lydia gently pressed the panel. It came out of the wall, reveal a small hiding place. Inside was what looked like a jewelry box, a diary and a vibrator. Allison picked up the diary, careful to avoid the vibrator. She opened the book, and frowned. "It's not in english," She said, flipping through it. She handed the book to Lydia.

"It's written in icelandic," Lydia said.

"Can you translate it?" Allison asked.

"Eventually, yes, but it might take a little while," Lydia said. "Icelandic isn't actually one of the languages I can read,"

They called Scott and Stiles into the room, and showed them what they'd found. "Do we think this could tell us why she was killed?" Scott asked, looking the diary over.

"It's possible," Lydia said.

"I don't know, from the looks of this place I'm starting to doubt whether or not this chick was anything more than a random victim," Stiles said, glancing around the bedroom. "I mean, look around. This house is completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary anywhere," Something caught his eye, and Stiles frowned. "Is that a dildo?"

Allison rolled her eyes, and closed the panel back up. "Also not out of the ordinary, Stiles," She said. "Move on,"

Stiles nodded. "Right okay... so, we should uh, keep looking," He said, clapping his hands together.

It was dark by the time they left the house. Besides the diary, nothing more had been found to give them any clues as to what someone might have wanted with Ilse Einarrson's brains. Stiles was right, the whole house reeked of normality. Other than some strange herbs planted in her yard, and a few creepy dolls in her living room, both of which Lydia said were probably from back home in Iceland, the house was nothing more than the typical home of 20-something young woman.

As she drove herself and Scott back home, Allison felt frustrated and angry. She was frustrated that they weren't able to find some kind of obvious clue to help them discover why this woman had been killed, and why her brains were removed. She so badly wanted this to be a one time incident, a specific vendetta against Ilse herself. Because if it wasn't about Ilse, then something new was starting, and more people would soon die. And for now, with so few leads and clues, all they would be able to do was wait for the next body to appear.

Allison hated this, this feeling of helplessness, of impotence. Isn't this why she'd trained as hard as she could, so she would never have to feel helpless again? So she could feel a sense of power, of control?

Unfortunately, Allison knew from experience that no matter how hard and how much she trained, she would never be able to save everyone.

"Lydia will find something," Scott said quietly. Allison glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It was eerie how even after all this time apart, he still knew exactly what she was thinking. "That diary... it's got to have something worth hiding, right? Or it would have been left out in the open, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know, I mean a lot of girls hide their diaries," Allison said. "Everyone feels they've got something to hide, that's kind of the point of having a diary in the first place,"

"Still," Scott said. "I have a feeling. Lydia will find something,"

Allison nodded, and kept quiet. She didn't want to tell him that she had a feeling it would be just the opposite.

When Allison arrived home that evening, she found her father on the phone. She wondered, for a moment, if it was possible he was still on the same call that he'd been on when she'd left. Allison put down her bag quietly, and watched her father pace around the living room with a furrowed brow.

"No, I understand that but it's not—no, I don't have a problem it's just—" Chris gritted his teeth, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I understand," He muttered. There was a tiredness in his voice that worried Allison. Whatever argument he was having, it was clear he was losing. "Alright. Nothing further," He hung up, and looked at the phone for a moment. Allison wondered if he was considering smashing it.

"Everything alright?" Allison asked.

Chris shook his head. "We have a problem," He said.

"Well, whatever it is, we'll figure it out, won't we?" When Chris didn't respond, Allison continued. "So what is it?"

"They're coming," Chris said, taking a seat on the couch. "I tried to stop it, but they're already on their way," He put his head in his hands and groaned.

A small pit opened in Allison's stomach. She sat down next to her father, and put a hand on his shoulder. It was rare she saw him so distressed, and it worried her even more. "Dad? Who's coming?"

Chris looked up, and the look in his eyes did little to calm her. "Hunters," He said. "A lot of them,"

A/N: Alright, bear with me here (bare)? I know this chapter has a very low Plot to Halemore ratio and I apologize for that. I promise that in the coming chapters there will be more Derek and Jackson being together. I just need to set up a bunch of things and then I swear you'll get more Derek/Jackson!