Well. OH MY GOD, OHMYGOD, OHMIGAD. That was how I felt as I watched the new episode of Teen Wolf. Cora, the mysterious new werewolf chick with the bad attitude-she's Derek's younger sister! What?! WHAT?! Sorry if I'm coming off as really exuberant, but that was MY idea, Teen Wolf writers. So there. I admit I gave a loud gasp when I found out who Cora was, and then I got mad and was like: "HEY, assholes! You totally screwed up my plans!" I forgive them but…grr. Now everything is going to be even MORE complicated! I just wanted to inform you guys that Cora WILL NOT exist in my story because…well, it just wouldn't make any sense for me to include her. And Stiles will not go to Heather's party, so no love triangle for him. I also want to thank my readers for the support this story had been getting. I've seen a lot of AHHHs and GAHHHs in my reviews, and I take that as a good sign. I asked for 3 reviews… and I got 16. Wow, are you guys amazing or what? I just wanted to hug/kiss/maul all of you for how awesome you are! I'm feeling really uncreative now that the Teen Wolf creators stole my mojo, but if you favorite and REVIEW, I might find the will to survive… ( I do not own Teen Wolf, although I want to. Cora would be named Seraphina, and that would be the end of that.) And now, what you all have been waiting for… XD

Tell me what you want to hear

Something that were like those years

I'm sick of all the insincere-

So I'm going to give all my secrets away.

-Secrets, by OneRepublic

Chapter 6: Hidden Truths and Uncovered Lies

By the time lunch rolled around the next day, I made a decision to not be intimidated by whatever harassment I received in the cafeteria. There was no point in it, in all honesty. I wasn't attending Beacon Hills High School for the pleasure of my classmates- I was here for me. Their opinions shouldn't be able to touch me.

With that in mind, I did my best to prove that their thoughts meant absolutely nothing to me. I took extra time when I woke up to curl my hair so that my usually wavy tresses framed my face in thick, bouncy ringlets. My makeup had taken me nearly half an hour to complete-I had gone all out, picking darker eye shadow to give me a smoky-eyed look, which made my yellow-green eyes pop, and adding a dark cherry lip gloss that made my full lips more prominent.

My outfit had been a little bit harder to manage. Most of my 'new' clothing was from the second-hand store down the street, so I had to dig deep in my closet to find an outfit from my days with the Sinclairs. After raiding the back, I had found some expensive and impractical items that Tabitha and Viviane had insisted on buying for me. I had settled on a black pair of jeggings, a one-shouldered silk red shirt that cinched in the middle, and a pair of tall crimson wedges with bows on the side. Then I had looked down at the necklace in my hands. It was an oval cut ruby on a silver chain, gorgeous but effectively simple. It was the only item I possessed from my time as a Hale-I had been wearing it when the fire started. But the necklace was still as beautiful as it was the day my aunt Amelia had placed it in my hands. A lovely trinket for a truly lovely girl.

I hadn't ever agreed with the last part, but as I had fastened the ruby necklace around my neck this morning, I had marveled at how far I had come since I was that little girl. The mirror had showed me a breath-taking young woman decked out in fancy attire, her eyes regal and sultry at the same time. I had blinked numerous times, disbelief flooding through me. This wasn't me-it couldn't be. The outfit was too flashy, too bold, and the girl was far too stunning to share my identity. I had felt different; I had felt like imagined Lydia, Viviane, or Tabitha would feel when they looked at themselves: confident, classy, and desirable. Quiet and shy Seraphina Sinclair had seemingly disappeared.

And that was exactly the point.

I had gotten looks all day, in small doses-girls' lips would part in surprise and then purse in jealousy, boys' mouths and eyes would drop in appreciation, and teachers would stare in outright shock at my much-improved appearance. When I met Stiles at his locker before Harris' class, I thought he was going to have a stroke. He had stared, cleared his throat numerous of times, and muttered under his breath, so low that I wouldn't have been able to hear it if I didn't have werewolf hearing: "Damn." I had been thoroughly pleased; it felt good to hold the cards and, for once, know how to play the game.

But the best feeling came when I entered the cafeteria.

There wasn't an immediate response. Conversations continued as I wove my way through the table, but eventually, almost everyone was gawking at me, their voices lowered to disbelieving whispers. I kept my eyes straight ahead and my head up, dark curls bouncing with every step I took. My eyes were trained on Scott and Stiles, who sat conversing at a nearly empty table in the corner of the room. I was almost to them when a voice called out sharply: "Seraphina!"

I froze, eyebrows pulling together, and whirled around to face the speaker.

It was Lydia Martin. She sat at a crowded table a few feet away, basking in all of her strawberry-blonde glory, no doubt. A smile was on her lips, and she beckoned to me with an impatient hand.

I barely even paused before I robotically made my way over to her, even though my head was spinning with confusion. Lydia wanted to talk to me? Lydia Martin? She wanted to chat with me even after she had bashed my borrowed outfit during lacrosse practice the other night? Whatever she wants, I thought, it sure as hell can't be good.

I tried my best to keep an upbeat smile plastered on my face when I stopped in front of her table. "Hi, Lydia," I greeted, nervously pulling at the strap of my purse. "Do you need something?"

Every pair of eyes were on me as Lydia gave a tinkling laugh. "Need something? Only to compliment your outfit! It's stunning." Lydia tossed her glossy, perfectly straightened hair behind her shoulders, her emerald eyes sparkling. "Oh, you have to sit with us, Seraphina. We need to know where you got your amazing clothes!" Lydia's posse fervently murmured their agreement.

I gazed around in distress, not spotting any open seats, or better yet, an excuse to escape. "Um-"

Lydia turned to the brunette girl beside her. The girl was almost pixie-like, she was so tiny. "You're done with your food, right, Jill? Seraphina needs somewhere to sit."

Jill looked at me and then at the half-eaten burger in her hands. "Well-" she began, eyes wide.

"Perfect, thanks! You're such a sweetheart," Lydia interrupted, smile never wavering.

Allison, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, gave a moan and dropped her head into her hands, clearly mortified by her friend's actions. Tiny Jill scooped up her tray and scurried off, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

I was so shocked that I didn't even say anything as I slipped into Jill's now-vacant seat.

Lydia smoothed her pleated teal dress and stabbed her fork into her salad. "Come on, people. Introduce yourselves, don't be shy. We're not in kindergarten."

The boy on the other side of me gave a warm, friendly smile. He had dark spiked hair and eyes that were nearly black, and he looked like he was of Pacific Islands descent. I immediately decided I liked him-there was just something completely genuine in his expression that I didn't see a lot in people. "Hi, I'm Danny Mahaealani."

The auburn-haired girl sitting beside Allison leaned forward on her elbows, giving me an impish smile. "And I'm Chelsea."

Ashley was the bottle-blonde with an annoying nasal voice, Kyle, a thin boy with short chestnut hair, played first-line on the lacrosse team, and Ellie was a petite Asian girl with high cheekbones and shiny, choppy black hair. I knew I was going to forget their names by the time lunch ended, but I greeted them all warmly anyway.

"Love your wedges," Ashley gushed, bouncing a little in her seat.

"They are so killer," Ellie added brightly. "What designer are they?"

It was awkward to be the center of attention; I had no idea what to say. "Um… they're not a designer brand, actually. I think I got them from- Forever 21?"

The expressions of excitement only seemed to grow on the girls' faces. "Awesome!"

"Totally amazing. They're way cuter than any designer brand I've seen!"

Chelsea pushed her lips into a pout, leaning up against Kyle's arm. "Oh, I love Forever 21! Too bad we don't have one in this shit town, or even close to it." Chelsea looked up at Kyle pleadingly, hazel eyes impossibly wide. "You'll take me to the Sacramento Mall soon, won't you, babe? I'm going through shopping withdrawal."

Kyle, who I assumed was Chelsea's boyfriend, leaned over and planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth. I saw him roll his eyes when he pulled away. "Sure, sure…"

I dropped my gaze, staring down at my stubby nails like my cuticles were the most fascinating thing in the world. My leg bounced up and down under the table, a nervous habit that I just couldn't seem to drop.

Lydia took my silence as a cue to step back into the spotlight. "Oh my God!" she said loudly, waiting until all conversation died and every pair of eyes were on her before she continued. "Did anyone hear about the girl that just went missing?"

"Another missing girl? Besides Erica Reyes?" asked Kyle, face contorted in confusion.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Uh, yeah. Do you ever watch the news, Kyle? I know you love ESPN, babe, but God…"

Kyle made a face at her. "Oh, shut up, Chels."

"Yeah," said Ashley, chomping on her gum thoughtfully. I knew she was trying to get everyone's attention off the couple. "Didn't that girl go to Laidley High or something?"

My heart was hammering a million miles per minute. The false confidence I had been wielding, which had been slowly fading, now burst like a soap bubble as I processed what I was hearing. Another girl went missing?

Ellie gave a grim nod. "Yup. Her name is Heather Monroe, I think. She was apparently having a really stellar seventeenth birthday party last night, but halfway through she disappeared. No one has seen her since."

"Maybe she got an offer to have a bit more fun," Chelsea said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Danny nearly choked on his chocolate milk. "Chelsea! This isn't funny!"

Lydia tsked. "Oh, get your panties out of a twist, Danny. It was just a joke. Besides, it might be true."

Danny's face reddened, but he didn't reply. I felt bad for the boy.

I glanced over at Allison, who had been silent for the entire conversation. She was sitting rigidly in her seat, clutching her water bottle tightly to her chest. The Hunter girl's eyes held a muted sort of horror, the kind that was sparked by a terrifying revelation. I could tell she suspected the same foul play that I did, and I would have put my hand on her arm to comfort her if… she didn't remind me so much of Kate.

Lydia, unlike Allison, didn't really seem to be bothered by Heather Monroe's disappearance; the news was just something new to gossip about. If she suspected that werewolves had any part in the case, she hid it behind a cool and calculating smile.

Ellie shot Danny an encouraging look from the other side of the table. "Danny's right, guys. I don't think that Heather girl would ditch all of her guests before her party really even got started." She gave a little frown. "Apparently the sheriff is working extra hard to find her-the Stilinski and Monroe families used to be really close friends, from what I've heard."

Eyes wide, I looked over my shoulder at Stiles and Scott. They were hunched over in their seats, and both of their faces held distraught expressions. A pang went through my chest as I watched Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and rub his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like he hadn't slept at all last night-he had deep purple circles under his newly half-lidded eyes. Heather vanishing, paired with whatever Scott was telling him, seemed to be draining the boy.

Lydia and her lackeys-all except for Allison, who was absorbed in her phone-switched the drab topic of missing people to chat about the first lacrosse game, which was apparently only a week away. I figured that now was as good a time as any to eavesdrop on the boys.

It took some special effort on my part to tune out the hundreds of voices around me, but I finally managed to focus on just Scott and Stiles. I cocked my head to the side and gripped the edge of the lunch table, biting my lip in concentration.

"…should have been there," Stiles was saying, staring down at his hands. "I told Heather I would come, but then that thing happened with Isaac and-"

Scott bumped his shoulder against his friend's, giving a small shake of his head. "It's not your fault, man. You were helping us with Isaac-there was nothing you could have done."

Stiles pursed his lips. "Maybe not. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like shit for not being there to keep her safe." His golden-brown eyes were mournful.

I shifted in my seat, positioning myself so that I had a better view of the boys.

Scott swallowed; I could see his Adam's apple bob from where I sat. "I know, Stiles, and I'm sorry. But your dad is the best at what he does, and he'll find her. I know he will."

The Stilinski boy heaved a sigh. "I really hope so. I just really don't know if what Isaac said is worth our time, dude. How do we know that he wasn't just imagining Boyd and Erica in the bank vault, huh? I mean, no offense, but the kid's memories were repressed, and in the past, he hasn't always been the most reliable…"

I stiffened at that news. They know where Erica and Boyd are? Then why the hell didn't they go to get them?

It was Scott's turn to sigh. "We're just going to have to trust him, I guess. The full moon is tomorrow night, and Isaac said that the alphas only gave them until then to live. We can't abandon them, Stiles. I know we're walking into danger by going to the alpha pack's lair, but we have to at least try to save them."

Stiles traced his finger across the surface of the table. "He said Erica's already dead," he quietly pointed out, not looking up.

Bile clawed its way up my throat. I remembered Erica Reyes before she became a werewolf-tangled blonde hair, wide eyes, and unflattering, baggy clothes. She had been awkward but sweet, misunderstood in more ways than one. Then my brother turned her, and she changed in a buxom, vindictive bitch, pushing people around with her newfound confidence. But that had never been reason enough for me to hate her. Whatever Erica had done in the past, she didn't deserve to die at the hands of the alpha pack. No one did.

"We don't know that for sure," Scott said under his breath. "That's why Derek and I are going to the bank tonight. We can't risk waiting any longer to help them escape."

Stiles shoved a few fries in his mouth and grumbled, "I still don't understand why I can't come with you. You're seriously going to leave me alone with Peter? You know, the psychotic werewolf who nearly killed all of us and then was resurrected from the dead?"

"Yes. And you know why you can't come with us. It's going to be way too dangerous."

"Scott," Stiles groaned. "I've been-I've been locked in the school with a killer alpha, almost drowned with Derek in the pool when the Kanima was after us, was paralyzed by the Kanima when I went to go get the Jeep fixed, and then-oh yeah!-then I was kidnapped by your ex-girlfriend's crazy-ass grandfather and got my face all busted up by him! And that's only half of it." Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Do you honestly think that I can't handle danger?"

Scott gave his best friend a stern look. "Stiles, this is different."

Stiles rubbed his temples, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. "Of course it is."

"Derek and I will need someone to look over the blueprints and guide us if we get lost; that'll be your job. Plus, Beacon Hills First National Bank may be abandoned, but I bet there are still alarms and other things to watch out for. We don't want the alphas to know we're coming. If we're lucky, they won't be around when we slip in, and then we can just grab Erica and Boyd and go back to Derek's place to regroup. We need you to make sure that everything runs smoothly."

Stiles gave a snort and tilted his head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "Whatever you say, captain."

My concentration snapped when Lydia elbowed me in the ribs and exclaimed in a stage-whisper, "Oooh, hotties at twelve o'clock!"

I blinked a couple times, slightly annoyed, and turned around to see what she was babbling about. My stomach dropped to somewhere in my toes when I did.

Ethan and Aiden Devereaux were making their way over to us, identical smug smiles on their identically handsome faces. Without me realizing it, Ashley and Ellie had evacuated the table, leaving two seats completely unoccupied. No, no, no! I silently pleaded. Don't sit here. Please, please, don't sit here.

The boy on the left leaned up against the table, smile becoming only more arrogant as he caught sight of me.

"These seats taken?" he asked, eyes landing on Lydia.

She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that made me want to vomit. "Not at all! It's-Aiden, right?" she questioned, batting her eyelashes for all that she was worth. Chelsea and Kyle exchanged a look, and Danny ducked his head. Allison didn't even look up from what she was doing, but I saw her give a tiny smile.

Aiden winked and dropped into the seat next to Lydia. "You got it, sweetheart."

Lydia didn't seem to notice, but the alpha was staring at me when he said it. His smirk became almost unbearably large. I gritted my teeth and tried to direct my gaze elsewhere.

Ethan took Ellie's seat next to Allison. The Argent girl looked up for a brief moment, gave a timid smile, and then started nibbling at a soggy fry.

It felt like the tension in the air between myself and the alphas was a ticking time bomb. The Devereaux boys' overwhelming scents and feelings of superiority were too much for me to handle. Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed my purse and gave everyone an unconvincing smile. My nerves were shot all to hell, and I couldn't take one more second of the alpha twins' gloating presence.

"I-I need to talk to Stiles," I said, my voice hoarse. That wasn't a lie-I did need to talk to him. The twins narrowed their eyes, testing my sincerity with a slight inhale. Aiden gave a superior smile that made me want to punch him in the face. "Leaving so soon?" His copper eyes bore into me like lasers. "What a shame."

The haughty look Lydia was giving me was soon wiped off her face when Aiden turned his gaze on her. "You're not going to run off, too, are you?"

Lydia giggled, and I fought the urge to gag. "I wouldn't even dream of it."

"Bye!" I called, whirling around. I hoped my voice was chipper and not full of disgust. I didn't look back, even though I could feel Ethan and Aiden's eyes on me every step that I took.

When I approached Stiles and Scott's table, I threw my purse down with a scandalized huff, causing both of the boys to jump nearly a foot in the air.

Stiles gave a tiny smile, nervousness practically radiating out of his pores. I couldn't tell if he was worried that I had overheard what he was talking about, or if he was anxious because of my somewhat-intimidating attire. "Oh. Um, hey, Seraphina." His eyes, warm and rich like coffee, took in every inch of my face. Upon seeing my expression, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows scrunched together. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head and jerked my thumb in the direction of Lydia's table. Both Scott and Stiles trained their curious gazes on the location. "Lydia invited me to sit down, but Creep 1 and Creep 2 decided to show up before I could get too comfortable."

The moment Scott's eyes locked on the alpha twins, he went completely rigid in his seat, clutching his lunch tray with nearly enough force to snap it in two. His cocoa eyes were almost glowing with shock and recognition. I knew he felt their presence like I did, the way a beta ached to find and please a higher-ranking werewolf. Scott clenched and unclenched his jaw so many times that I was afraid that he had forgotten how to speak, or that he was going to shift right in front of the whole cafeteria. "Those two," he grunted. "Those two are… they're-"

Scott's eyes flitted over to Stiles, who was gaping at him in an alarmed silence. I was tempted to slap both of them in the back of the head-Scott was on the verge of screaming out the word 'alphas', and Stiles was just staring like a moron.

"Jerk-offs," I provided with a grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. "No way can you be that pretty and not be complete ass-wipes."

Scott blinked several times and released his tray. I tried to pretend like I didn't see the indentations he had left there. Whatever primal urge had washed over him was fading now, but Scott's jaw was still firmly cemented together, and his eyes were still lit with barely suppressed hatred.

Stiles gave me an indignant look. "Hey, now. I'm not a jerk," he informed me.

I couldn't stop the smirk that found its way to my lips. "Whoever said you were attractive, though?"

Stiles blanched, stared at me for a moment, and then burst into surprised laughter. "Where is this sass coming from?" he gasped after he got control of himself.

Embarrassment flooded through me. Being around Stiles and Lydia had made me careless-I voiced my opinions and teasings without so much as a second thought. I rubbed my bare shoulder, eyelashes brushing my cheekbones as I looked down, confidence evaporating. "It must be this outfit," I said with a grimace.

Stiles laughed again, taking one of my curls in between his fingers and giving it a slight tug. His fingers accidentally brushed against my cheek, causing my face to immediately heat up. I could almost picture Stiles' body pressed up against mine again, which only made my blush deepen. "Whatever it is," he breathed, still inexplicably close, "don't change it." Then the Stilinski boy stood up and took his tray to the trash can, leaving me with nothing more than air. I pressed my fingertips to my warm cheeks, looking over at Scott.

He had one eyebrow quirked, his puppy-like chocolate eyes wide, a tiny, knowing smile on his lips. For a moment, the Devereaux brothers were completely forgotten. "Did I miss something?" Scott smirked.

"Oh, shut up," I laughed, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Darkness had fallen much too quickly. After some debate, I had decided that I would follow Derek and Scott to the bank to make sure their plan went through as it should. Of course, the boys didn't know that. I would keep my distance, and if it sounded like they needed any help, I would intervene. I knew what that would mean for me, and I was willing to accept it. Scott and Derek's safety was my first priority, above all else.

I pulled out my dusty pair of combat boots from the shoe closet by the door, lacing them up over top of the black jeggings I had been wearing earlier. I knew my brother and McCall would be leaving to go to the bank soon. The cheap canary-yellow clock I had bought at the local thrift store ticked loudly from its spot above the T.V., too obnoxious for my sensitive hearing. Grabbing my Ipod from the kitchen counter, I plopped down onto my worn loveseat, briefly considering tossing the clock from my balcony. Unfortunately, I doubted my neighbors would enjoy the disturbance, so I refrained from doing so.

My gear was spread out on the coffee table, giving the room an ominous air. I shook the thought away, knowing that it was too late now to change my mind. Slipping my ear buds into place, I clicked on my music and cranked One Headlight by the Wallflowers almost as loudly as it would go. Music helped settle me when nothing else could; that was the only reason I owned an Ipod in the first place. Other electronic devices like cell phones seemed trivial, especially since I had a house in case of an emergency.

I hummed the familiar tune as I pulled on my baggy black jacket and elbow-length black leather gloves. I then examined the contents of the ratty backpack Ophelia had given me-most of the items were herbs that would enhance my casting abilities, but there were also a few different weapons: two daggers and a flask of mountain ash. I had protested when Ophelia had put it in my bag, reminding her that I was, in fact, a werewolf, and that it wouldn't just prohibit my enemies movement-it would prevent my own movement as well.

Ophelia had assured me, in her slowest and most patient voice, that the mountain ash would be perfectly safe to carry with me so long as none of it touched my skin. But still, I took great precaution with it, treating the substance like it was a deadly poison. For werewolves and other shape-shifters, it is, I reminded myself as I slid one of my wickedly sharp daggers into the sheath in my right boot. Learning to use weapons had seemed useless to me, even more so than learning magic. I had my claws and fangs to defend myself with, but Ophelia had insisted that I carry at least one weapon with me. She had pointed out that there may be a time when I couldn't shift quickly enough, and a dagger would be the difference between life and death. At the time, I had grumbled under my breath and pushed it off as Ophelia being superstitious and overly prepared, but tonight, I was relieved to have some backup.

I pushed myself off the couch and wandered into the bathroom, pawing around for a few minutes before I found a hair tie. I yanked my curls up into a high ponytail, making sure I caught all escaping wisps with bobby pins. After examining myself in the mirror for a moment, I could help but laugh at the contrast of my outfits from today. Earlier, my outfit had resembled the attire of someone with immense wealth, and now I was dressed as what most people would officially deem a spy.

Pulling my hood up to shadow my face, I stepped out of the bathroom, took out my ear buds, and shoved my Ipod deep into my weapons' bag. Then I swung the backpack over my shoulder and opened the front door, fear gripping my heart like a vise.

It didn't take me too long to reach the bank-I kept a brisk walk almost the whole time, clinging to the edge of the trees and buildings that I passed. I was glad for my jacket; the temperature had dropped considerably, signaling the approach of fall. Though the air was still fairly warm, it carried a chill with it now, like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. I shuddered involuntarily as I pressed myself against the cold brick building, straining my ears to hear what was happening.

Beacon Hills First National Bank loomed threateningly over top of me. It was huge and definitely abandoned- windows were boarded up with wooden planks, and when I had passed the double doors up front, I had noticed that they were locked with thick, looping chains that had long ago rusted. A perfect lair for the alpha pack, no doubt. And apparently the perfect place to keep two innocent betas hostage.

Anger spilled through my veins at the thought of Boyd and Erica being trapped in this dark, desolate place for four months. What did the alphas want, other than to torture the Hale pack and kidnap humans? Why were they in Beacon Hills in the first place?

My thoughts were disrupted by nearby voices. I crouched down behind a couple of garbage cans, wrinkling my nose at the putrid smell. The voices grew closer and closer, one young and very familiar: Scott. The other was deeper than I remembered, and surprisingly gruff: Derek. My throat nearly closed up. This was as close as I had been to my older brother in nearly seven years, and I couldn't say a single word, couldn't move. Tears threatened to spill over as I listened to the boys bicker about the risks of their choice. Finally, I heard the fire ladder clatter once, then twice. Both Scott and Derek had came to an agreement and were entering the building.

After I was sure the coast was clear, I stood up and brushed the dirt from my jeggings, cautiously peering around. The only thing I could do now was wait.

I didn't have to wait very long, as it turned out. Snarls echoed through the building after a few moments-I recognized Scott and Derek's voices trying to reason with Boyd. Faintly, I heard another voice: it was Stiles on the phone with Scott. He sounded frantic, yelling about how the walls of the vault were made of some mineral that caused moonlight to be reflected. Hence, prohibiting a werewolf to change.

Horror filled me. Boyd had missed three full moons; he was nearly rabid. I was frozen in shock as I listened to the fight that commenced, and I tensed when I heard Scott scream something about mountain ash. Trembling from head to toe, I propelled myself forward, knowing that the boys needed me. Whatever was going on, it was awful.

My hands reached for the fire escape's ladder, but before I could pull myself up, I heard Scott shriek: "No, Allison! Don't break the line!"

Allison?! What the hell is she doing here? She's going to get herself killed!

Somewhere deep inside the building, I heard the cold, snarling laughs of the alpha pack as they listened to Scott and Derek's struggle. Before I could move any further, however, a huge shape bounded out of the building, tearing away at top speed.

My heart slammed against my rib cage. Boyd.

I didn't really think, I just moved. I was running alongside the beta in an instant, my eyes flashing golden. "Stop!" I screeched, reaching for the hulking dark-skinned boy. He growled at me, picking up his speed. There was something completely feral in his eyes, and it chilled me to the bone. Those weren't the eyes of a human, or even a werewolf-those were the eyes of a wild animal. I made another grab for Boyd's arm, baring my fangs in frustration, but all I managed to do was rip his sleeve. He swiped the side of my face with a well-aimed blow, claws catching flesh almost immediately. Blood spurted into my eyes, nearly blinding me, and I stumbled as I struggled to wipe it away. I could already feel the wound healing, but the damage was done: Boyd had outrun me, slipping into the cover of the trees. I gave a frustrated growl, breath coming out of me in pants.

Long tendrils of hair had fallen from my ponytail, and they, like my clothes, clung to me with sweat. I crept back down the alley near the bank, making sure to keep to the shadows of the building on the opposite side of the bank. Sliding down the cold wall, I buried my face in my hands and fought the urge to scream. How had I let Boyd slip right through my fingers? I had been so close to catching him, but I had failed.

I heard the clatter of the fire escape and shot to my feet, terror consuming me once more. I darted around the side of the building, hoping I hadn't been spotted. I didn't know who was climbing down-for all I knew, it was the alpha pack, coming to rip my throat out. I tried to calm my thumping heart, knowing it would be a dead giveaway. It was silent for a few moments, eerily so. After I was sure it was safe, I stood up and peered around the corner.

My eyes widened as a hand shot out of the darkness, wrapping around my throat and slamming me into the wall behind me. I struggled against my captor with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed. But it was not an alpha that held me: it was Scott.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in a horrible snarl. "I knew there was something off about you! I smelled your scent for a second yesterday when you were with Stiles, but then it faded, and I thought for sure I was imagining it. You had us fooled for a bit, Seraphina, but when I caught a whiff of you tonight, I knew you were a werewolf. I knew you had lied to us. What I don't know is how you hid your scent," he growled. "But I intend to find out." Scott's face was dangerously close to mine when he hissed, "Are you working with the alpha pack? Is that what you came here to do-pretend to be friends with Stiles and then use him in some kind of sick way to get to me?"

I couldn't answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw who had accompanied Scott to ambush me: Allison. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving, but her expression was stony, and I knew she had made up her mind. She agreed with Scott; I was a threat. She was a Hunter, after all, and Hunters didn't put up with dangerous werewolves.

Scott's hand was still clamped tightly around my throat, nails digging into the soft flesh there. I was pinned between the wall behind me and a very pissed-off beta, struggling to breathe as his grip began to tighten even more. Scott's eyes were blazing golden, bright in the darkness of the night. I could taste the McCall boy's anger and fear in the back of my throat, almost prominent enough to make me gag. My feet dangled inches off the ground, and dark spots danced across my vision as I tried, unsuccessfully, to pry Scott's fingers from my neck.

"Let…go…of me," I gurgled. Scott's emotions soon became my own-I was angry because of Scott's sudden attack, and terrified that he would crush my windpipe before I could explain myself.

Scott let out a growl that nearly made me shiver. His teeth were inches from my face, sharp and incredibly canine. "I'm tired of watching the people I love get hurt!" He slammed my head against the concrete wall, and pain shot through my skull instantaneously. I saw Allison's hands fly to cover her mouth, and I gave a fearsome snarl, struggling with everything I had. "It's time that you gave me some answers."

Scott dropped me to the ground, and I fell to my knees, coughing and gasping for air. The world was spinning too quickly, and I thought for sure I was going to pass out until a voice sliced through the darkness, making everything sharpen into Technicolor. "Scott? What the hell are you doing?! You're supposed to be going after Boyd!"

The voice soon wasn't just a voice, but a person who walked out of the mist that surrounded all of us. He was still as handsome as I remembered, with a strong jaw and deep-set yellow-green that nearly matched my own, but he had grown into his looks considerably over the past six years. Stubble covered his face, and eyes which had once been bright and teasing were now cold and distant. The leather jacket my father had given him for his sixteenth birthday was wrapped firmly around his frame, actually fitting now that his body had filled out with thick, hard muscle.

Derek made his way toward us, strides long and even, his dark clothing nearly blending into the background. But I saw every inch of him, my eyes sweeping over him like they couldn't soak up enough of his image. My older brother wasn't a self-absorbed boy anymore-I could see the pain and anger in the planes of his face, and I knew Derek had become a man without me being there to see it.

It seemed like an eternity later that he noticed me crouched on my knees, hands splayed out on the gritty ground so I could support myself. My hair had come completely undone from its hair band now, and it hung in front of my face in thick curtains. My breathing was still ragged, but now it was from the tears that leaked out of the corner of my eyes.

Derek came to stand beside Scott, confusion and anger blatantly in his voice as he spat: "Damn it, Scott, what is going-"

His voice caught in his throat when I looked up at him. My eyes met his, and for a moment, Derek stared at me, his mouth falling open in shock. I saw fear and denial fighting for dominance on his face, which had drained itself of all color, and then my brother's pupils dilated to pinpoints as realization sank in. Derek stumbled back from me, blinking rapidly like I would disappear if he kept closing his eyes. Like he had just saw a ghost. Derek was trembling almost as badly as I was when he whispered: "Seraphina?"

I couldn't move from where I was sitting. I could only stare up at my brother, tears sluicing down my face, as he shook his head, not believing his eyes. "Sera?" His voice broke, and it nearly killed me to hear him say my old nickname, to see him like this, so full of pain and confusion and hope. I had caused this; I had known that letting Derek go would be the best for the both of us, but I had insisted on coming back to Beacon Hills, even though Ophelia had disagreed with my choice. If your brother has already made peace with your death, she had told me, seeing you will only cause him more grief and heartbreak.

But I had been selfish. I had wanted to be close to Derek, to know that he was near me. All those years, I had been so terribly alone, and I had just wanted something that was familiar, constant, and real. I had wanted my brother. But now that he was standing in front of me, looking close to the edge of his sanity, I wondered what I had done.

Had I stolen away what stable ground Derek thought he was standing on?

Derek was my world-when we were children, he had always treated me specially. He would slip me an extra cookie from Mom's secret stash, lift me up on his shoulders to reach the ripest of apples, and almost always take me along to hang out with him and Kate. We were virtually inseparable, even though he was five years older than me.

And now, staring into the eyes that were so similar to mine, I knew that the years had made us into people who didn't recognize each other, who didn't share the same bond we once had. We were strangers to each other, and that tore at my soul like nothing else could. The fire and Kate's betrayal had ripped us apart, but time was the cruelest thing of all. Time had created barriers that might not ever come down again.

I dropped my face into my dirt-stained hands and began to cry like I never had before.

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