"So Stiles, your dad told me he's thinking of sending you to visit your aunt for a while. What are your feelings on that?" asked Ms. Morrell the school counselor. The sheriff's department had a counselor too but he was a greasy old guy with eyebrows that looked like they could kidnap small dogs so when given the choice Stiles had gone for Ms. Morrell. Plus Ms. Morrell seemed really chill.

"I asked him to please hold all discussions until after the lacrosse championship, the end of the school year would be better but I didn't want to be too demanding."

"Couldn't you tell him if you don't want to go?"

"Yeah, but I get that he's super worried about me. I mean like everywhere I've gone lately mayhem has followed. I can see him wanting me to leave town just so things will quiet down at the sheriff's station again."

"Do you think things will quiet down if you leave?"

"No, I think things will quiet down now that Matt is out of business. I mean sadly, it isn't that unusual anymore for the creepy quiet high school student to have terrorism in their soul and since we were in a bunch of the same classes, on the same team, living in the same town, it's just coincidence that I kept popping up in the wrong place."

"That seems plausible," said Ms. Morrell noncommittally. Stiles didn't growl that she was surrounded by people who constantly said leading comments like that to her. Instead she fidgeted with her lacrosse stick, she was also fidgeting with her stick so she wouldn't look too closely at Ms. Morrell and try to figure out if she was lying or not. So far she hadn't actually said anything that mattered one way or the other.

"Stiles, did Matt touch you in ways he shouldn't have while your father was unconscious?"

"Wow, way to work up to it slowly," sniped Stiles defensively. She spun her stick around a few times, "no, Matt didn't."

"Did someone else?" asked Ms. Morrell.

"The only other person there was Scott."

"And?"

"And Scott would never hurt me. Scott is like my brother, he loves me."

"So you've never kissed or anything, because there was that story going around about the rave a few weeks ago."

"Scott isn't actually my brother, I just said he's like my brother. We did kiss once, to see what it was like. I mean we've been best friends for years, it would be weirder if we never experimented with each other."

"But nothing more?" asked Ms. Morrell, whom Stiles was now starting to dislike; the sheriff department guy wasn't up on any of this gossip he probably would have been easier to deal with.

"Scott is still pretty smitten with Allison Argent and you know me, I have my huge unrequited crushes to keep me company."

"Smitten is an interesting choice of words, it sounds like you don't see real emotion there."

"I guess I do, but I just don't really like her family so maybe I'm trying to subconsciously devalue their relationship."

"That seems fair," allowed Ms. Morrell, "do you do the same to your relationships by calling them unrequited crushes?"

"No, that's what they are."

"Really, because I heard that Jackson sent a big bouquet of flowers to your house after the attack at the sheriff's station."

Stiles blushed and started twisting the lacrosse stick in her hands as if she could wring it. "Yeah, he did but he wasn't who I meant, Jackson was my eighth grade crush."

"And you've outgrown that crush?" asked Ms. Morrell.

"Pretty much," said Stiles, still pretty red.

"So, can I ask who your current unrequited crush is?"

"I don't see how that's really relevant to me processing this string of attacks."

"Maybe I just want reassurance that you're making safe choices?"

"But if it's unrequited pining what does it matter? It's just fantasy, just something to keep me distracted and entertained."

"Is it Derek Hale? I find him very distracting."

"I guess, but I know he's too old for me."

"Werewolves age differently," Ms. Morrell shrugged, "I would be more concerned that he's a brand new alpha and in over his head. The school has noticed that Erica and Boyd haven't been in class all week."

Stiles dropped her stick. "They, um, they had a difficult transition over spring break and I think they're trying to figure some things out."

"Derek was too distracted by other things to take good care of his betas. I brought it up because I think you were one of those other things, I think your crush is a lot less unrequited than you're telling yourself."

"Really?" asked Stiles, scrambling to pick up her stick and get herself settled in the chair again. "I guess if that's so I can see why it would be important information for me to have. Because you know, I should probably act differently in front of him then, set some boundaries that I didn't know I needed."

Ms. Morrell smiled, "that would probably be a good idea. I'm sure your dad would appreciate it."

Scott was called to the principal's office. "I want to congratulate you Scott on making some good decisions these past few days," started Principal Argent offering Scott an icy can of soda.

"You and Allison witnessed a bit of ugliness but it was something that needed to be done. You've figured out Matt's sins, stalking my granddaughter was just one of many. Maybe your good decision was because he sinned against someone you love too, hmmm?" asked Principal Argent as he dropped a stack of photos on his desk. He gestured to Scott and Scott put his sweaty can down on top of a paper he hoped was important and then picked up the stack.

Argent gave him a look and moved the can to a file folder but Scott didn't notice. He had no idea Matt had taken so many pictures; they were sort of good too, arty kind of, and sexy, definitely sexy. He didn't look like he was kissing the girl he told everyone was like a sister to him, he looked like he was worshipping her.

Just looking at them brought the moments back: his hands were huge and dark along her sides and he could feel her body again expanding as she took deep shuddering breaths. The way he spread his palms flat, to keep Matt from seeing as her nipples got hard but also, he had to admit, to keep it for himself. And then he reached the pictures of the kiss; their eyes were closed, her lashes a dark smudge above the flush of her cheeks and not much else could be seen –it looked like Scott was trying to devour her, to take everything, and she was just giving it to him, giving him her first kiss. Her trust, her faith.

And Scott realized that whatever Argent asked him for next he was going to say yes.

The sheriff was on medical leave for three days and on the fourth night Derek appeared outside Stiles' window. She hadn't seen him since he had tucked her under the afghan in her father's office, they had texted a few times but for two people with senses like theirs texting was woefully inadequate. Stiles needed to smell Derek again, to hear the creaking noise his leather jacket made when he stretched or twisted, and she needed to see him too –the quicksilver little flashes of emotion that streaked across his eyes or mouth.

He tapped on the glass and she rushed over to unlock and open the window. He slid in and when he stood up she hadn't stepped away yet so they stood there, staring at each other until they both moved and then they were hugging, or was it clinging. Derek could admit to clinging, he squeezed his eyes shut but still he could see Stiles as she had been at the sheriff's station; shirtless, paralyzed, bleeding –and the way Matt had dragged him on top of her. The way he had let Matt humiliate her because if he risked fighting he risked losing, and if he lost then he couldn't protect Stiles against worse harm. Which was stupid he thought now, she should hate him for letting his stupid ruse go on so long. He remembered the red marks his jacket had left on her chest, the way his weight squeezed the breath out of her, and he was embarrassed by his stupid plan. Embarrassed that he wasn't strong enough to just kill Matt or Jackson for her.

She hit him on the side of the head, hard, "stop it," she ordered. "You're thinking those heavy thoughts again."

He couldn't even smile, he pulled back and frowned at her, "I'm sorry. Not for the heavy thoughts, for the sheriff's station, for not protecting you better."

"You protected me just fine," insisted Stiles.

Derek didn't want to list all the ways he hadn't, all the ways he had seen her humiliated so he just whined.

"Come on," said Stiles pulling him away from the window and towards her bed, conveniently forgetting her talk with Ms. Morrell, "let's talk about other stuff."

The bed, Stiles told herself because she hadn't really forgotten Ms. Morrell, was because they needed to scent each other, she wanted her pillows to smell like him again because it made her feel safe. And she knew he would want to lick at her new stitches, reassure himself that she was mostly okay. It wasn't sexual, it was pack; it was family like Scott - or maybe Scott was a bad example of that now.

Derek didn't seem surprised or freaked out about being led to her bed; it really was where they did most of their interacting although to be fair Stiles was usually sick or hurt or something when they interacted in her bedroom. She was already wearing the oversize t-shirt she liked to sleep in so she climbed under the covers and Derek stretched out next to her so he could inspect her new stitches. He whined again and Stiles remembered the glob of ointment she had smeared on after brushing her teeth, she wondered if she should offer to wash it off –it probably tasted terrible, but the licking started so she assumed it wasn't an issue.

He had almost lulled her to sleep when she felt him stop and then he was pulling the collar of her t-shirt down and inspecting the scratch from when the kanima had paralyzed her. It was just a scratch, already scabby and mostly healed but Derek had to lick it too she figured.

Derek licking her collarbone was completely different from Derek licking a still mostly tender head wound. Plus he was deviating from the injury and now he was licking her neck, no not just licking because teeth were not used during the licking process. Stiles felt like lightning was rushing through her body and then she was horrified to smell her own arousal even as she could feel it pooling low in her belly. Horrified and turned on, which made it worse.

Derek forced himself away from her neck and looked up with red eyes. "I should stop that," he rasped and then gave her neck one more kiss/bite/suck/lick whatever it was that made her turn to liquid. He reached out one finger and traced the marks he had left on her, which was also hot.

Stiles opened her mouth and then realized she had opened it to talk about Ms. Morrell so she closed it again. Derek smiled, really smiled with crinkly eyes and everything and Stiles felt like she was falling off a cliff and the cliff's name was hopelessly in love with Derek. Shit, she thought to herself and smiled back at him.

Scott and Allison finally met up with each other, in private, that night too. It might have been helpful to Scott if he knew what Stiles was doing.

"Scott, I'm kind of flattered that you still like me after seeing all the crazy in my family," said Allison as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of her car. She had snuck out at midnight and driven to his street to meet with him.

"You aren't responsible for your family, you can be your own person," insisted Scott but he knew their conversation wasn't going to be about her family.

They were both quiet for a while, Scott figured that Allison was trying to find a segue from her crazy to his but eventually she just blurted, "I saw all the pictures. Matt sent me some of them that night to get me to meet with you, he was so deranged that night. But then after my grandfather got the rest of them developed I looked through all of them."

"You shouldn't have done that," said Scott. "It was bad enough, what Matt did, but we don't deserve to have your family passing those pictures around."

"You're right, I'm sorry about that. But I did see them Scott, and I can't unsee them now." Scott looked out the window.

"Your face when you were holding her, it was like she was the most precious thing in the world."

"She is, so is my mom, so are you," Scott said softly to the glass.

"Maybe, but I thought you would have reacted differently. Of course you would be chivalrous, of course you would be careful, but I thought you would be more awkward or shy or something. I didn't expect it to be so, so sensuous."

"I don't think I did either," admitted Scott, "but she was so scared and so trusting of me and it was her first kiss; I just wanted to make it better."

Allison made a humming sort of noise and Scott kept talking. "Those pictures don't tell the whole story you know. They don't show how he grabbed her by the throat and held a gun to her head, they don't show how her father was out cold just a few feet away. They don't show how Matt degraded her by making her strip or how he dragged the muzzle of the gun he stole down the cut your mother gave her and opened it up again. They don't show how her heart was thundering, how terrified she was.

And you know, it wasn't my only living parent unconscious on that desk, it wasn't my body that Matt stared at with his filthy eyes and fucking camera, he couldn't have killed me with that gun, so yeah Allison, I kind of went out of my way to make my best friend's first and possibly only kiss as fucking sexy and awesome as I possibly could. And it wasn't that hard either because she is fucking sexy and awesome and brave and wonderful. And I do love her, I hope I always will."

Scott noticed he was crying by the end but he figured it was better than wolfing out and leaving claw marks in her car, which her family would totally recognize as claw marks, and Allison was crying too. She was really blubbering sobbing crying so he pulled her over to his side and hugged her tight.

After a few minutes they pulled themselves together again, "what are we going to do now?" asked Allison.

"I don't know," said Scott.

Allison tried to be nicer to Stiles, it wasn't Stiles' fault that her mother was facing assault charges in court next month. And it didn't seem to make Stiles uncomfortable or anything, she actually seemed happier and Allison realized it was because she didn't want to come between her and Scott. Except she had with the pictures, but Stiles didn't know that she had seen all of the pictures, in fact Allison was pretty sure that Stiles hadn't seen any of the pictures.

She and Scott had tried to figure out a way to get rid of the pictures but they were pretty sure the original files had been uploaded somewhere secure and it didn't matter how many of the prints they destroyed, more could be made. Their new plan was to go along with Gerard for the time being and try to get a set of the prints to Stiles so she could at least be prepared for when he inevitably posted them to the school website or took out a centerfold in the school paper.

Allison's mom was also a problem. She wasn't stupid enough to blame Stiles directly for the shit she had landed in but she enjoyed pointing out that Stiles was a werewolf sympathizer and her affection for Scott and Derek would be her inevitable downfall. Making the pictures public would go a long way in helping her image as Allison's mother/champion, no matter that the pictures were taken a week after she attacked Stiles.

Scott was still working on how to ask Allison if her father was a decent human being or not, he hoped he was.

"Who are you texting?" Scott asked Stiles at lunch the day of the championship lacrosse match. He was waiting for her to stop so he could ask her something but then he realized that everyone she knew, or everyone he thought she knew was sitting at their table. Allison, Lydia and Jackson were at the far end, Isaac was next to Stiles. Sure Erica and Boyd weren't around but they weren't friends, were they?

"Derek, he's worried about Erica and Boyd. They heard wolves in the woods last night but Derek doesn't think there's another pack around."

"What does he think it was?"

"Hunters, I guess," said Stiles.

"Do you want me to ask Allison?" offered Scott.

"Nah, I don't want to put her in the middle. If she says they weren't out and then they were it will be bad, if she says they were out and she didn't warn us then it's bad, if she says she doesn't know then it will be cool but then if that's the only response we want to hear why would we ask?"

"Wow, you think a lot," said Scott.

"I'm trying to step it up," admitted Stiles, "I still can't believe he faked being paralyzed."

"So, um, do you guys text a lot?"

"Yeah, we do. He hasn't been able to take me out for training lately so I guess we're trying to make up for it. It's a good thing my dad isn't as big a snoop as Allison's family."

"I don't think anybody's family is as bad as hers," sighed Scott looking forlornly down the length of the table to where she was laughing with Lydia.

"So, are you guys on again?" asked Stiles.

"Yeah, we are but maybe just on simmer instead of full boil."

"I guess that's good, is it because of our, because of the pictures that Matt sent her?" asked Stiles with a blush.

Scott put his hand over her arm, "sort of, but not entirely. Ummm, about those pictures Stiles…"

"Yeah?" asked Stiles.

"I saw them, I saw them all, there are a lot of them and Principal Argent got them from Matt's phone after he, after he killed him."

"Oh," said Stiles.

"Allison and I are trying to steal them so we can give them to you, so you can see them too and be ready if he, or when, he does something with them."

"Yeah, because if you steal the prints he probably has them in a cloud somewhere," mused Stiles. "Allison saw them too and understands?"

"Yeah, I told her about the extenuating circumstances. Stiles they're, um, in the pictures you can tell, even I can tell, how much we mean to each other. It wasn't just that she saw a picture of me kissing you, she saw me loving you."

Stiles was bright red, "I can't believe you said that at the lunch table Scott you giant dork." She blotted under her eyes carefully.

"Well, better here than in the locker room," said Scott knocking her arm so that she almost poked herself in the eye.

Later that evening they gathered in the locker room for Coach Finstock's stirring recitation of the Independence Day speech. It really was touching, it was a warm fuzzy compared to the creepiness that poured out of Principal Argent's mouth when he spoke next about killing the other team and then leered at Jackson, who looked pale and uncomfortable like a normal person should.

Stiles wanted to talk to Jackson and see if he was aware that his kanima master had been killed and he had a new one now but she didn't really want to be alone with him. He hadn't hurt her, not as much as others had at least, but he had been a witness and that was enough to make her palms sweat and for her to chicken out.

She was pretty sure Jackson had noticed too, he didn't normally sit at her lunch table after all. And after Jackson had sat down near her Isaac had rushed over and plopped himself down between them. As soon as things quieted down Stiles was going to get to know what went on in that ridiculous curly head of his, he was too sweet.

Surely things would quiet down someday, after the championship, after Erica and Boyd pulled their heads out of their asses, after she had her trial with Mrs. Argent, after they did something about their principal, his pet kanima and his blackmail photos. It was almost enough to make her forget about the sentinel stuff except the smell of nerves and unwashed gym clothes was smothering her.

The principal was saying something, something ra-ra and suddenly the rest of the team was throwing their arms in the air and yelling. Stiles reeled back from the smell and put her arm under her nose, she looked over to see Isaac and Scott smiling and laughing at her. She flipped them off and went to gather the rest of her stuff, when she turned around everyone was marching off to the field and Jackson was waiting for her.

"Stiles," he said and it sounded like an apology. He frowned down at her uniform and then inspected the new stitches in her head, his fingers were very gentle and when he brushed some hair behind her ear her heart flipped. "Are you cleared to play?" he asked.

"Yeah, the first hit only gave me a grade II concussion and it's been more than two weeks. So technically I'm clear but you know what coach always says…"

"Title IX gets you on the team Stilinski, but not sucking is what gets you on the field," recited Jackson in a fair imitation with a little smile.

Stiles smiled back at him, "I didn't know you paid attention to the coach chewing me out."

"It's fun to watch you give it right back to him," Jackson smiled again a little brighter but then it dropped away and he want back to tracing around her stitches. "It's the last game of the season and the championship and if we get a really big lead, or if we're losing by a mile, he might let you play, he might even let Greenberg play. And if he does, especially at the end of the game, if he does just make sure you stay away from me."

"Why? Did Gerard tell you to do something? Can you remember what it was? You can fight this stuff Jackson, I know you can. I mean Scott and Isaac can both resist the full moon already so I'm sure you can fight this. You're just as pig headed as anyone else on this team."

"Maybe not as pig headed as you are Stiles," said Jackson. "I don't know for sure, it's mostly a feeling I guess and I'll try to resist but promise me you'll stay away."

Stiles looked away, his heart wasn't speeding up and she didn't think he was lying, it would be a stupid thing to lie about anyway. But she didn't want to promise him anything, she couldn't really see herself not running straight for the danger.

He must have seen her indecision because he spoke again, "please Stiles."

She nodded. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed to say thanks and that was how they walked out of the locker room. "Well, well, well," said Principal Argent as they passed him by, "it looks like there's a pack whore."

When Jackson growled at him it sounded like a wolf but he took his arm away before they reached the field. The field was crazy, the big lights were on and the stands were full. Stiles couldn't hold back the big happy grin, Jackson had one too and so did Scott. When she found her dad in the stands with Mrs. McCall they were grinning too, and waving like dorks which was pretty sweet so Stiles waved back.

Jackson jogged a little to put more distance between them and Stiles caught up with him at the bench. "Well that was fun," she remarked, "hello bench, ready for a big night together?"

Scott sat next to her for a little while, he was benched too ostensibly because of his grades. But he was too good for the coach to keep him out when he actually needed his mad skills to win the game, or keep it close, which it wasn't really.

There seemed to be a lot of drama going on with Scott and Isaac and Principal Argent, Stiles could hear them whispering threats to each other and there was some chasing of each other into the locker room and such, but Jackson was on the field so Stiles decided to just keep her eyes on him. Gerard didn't seem like such a huge threat without his pet lizard.

Stiles was so caught up in actually paying attention to the game, and it was like a whole different game when she used her sentinel senses to follow it, that she was startled when the coach tapped her on the shoulder. "Head in Stilinski, you're the next sub."

"What?" she asked because this had never happened before.

"Look, it isn't just that the school lawyers are here tonight, or your esteemed father representing the local law enforcement, but also, it's you or Greenberg and you suck slightly less than he does sister, so head out there."

"Good enough coach, that's good enough!" Stiles tried not squeal as she headed out to the field.

She wasn't out there too long when she felt her sentinel senses ramping up, but not like one sense soaring out of control –it felt like all of them were quietly switching to optimum. She had read an article about Roger Federer and how there was something about him that made his reaction time better and so it was like time slowed down for him and gave him an unholy advantage in tennis.

Maybe he was a sentinel too, who knew, but this- this was awesome. The ball was moving slower but she could see it sharper, she could project the trajectory better, the other players were telegraphing their intentions, she could even here them talking to each other better than ever. Was this how the werewolves felt all the time but with super strength? Cuz this was awesome and she could totally run this game.

And she did totally rule, her shots didn't have the insane power of the werewolf shots but she had been practicing just as hard as the rest of the team for months so there was adequate power, plus she was finessing here boys. She watched another guy on the other team telegraph which way he was going to throw the ball and stole it again to run and pass it to Jackson for another goal.

Jackson swooped her up and spun her around, this was so fun. She looked around for Scott or Isaac to share the love but they were both gone. Danny gave her a pretty cool thumbs-up though and her dad was going ape shit in the stands.

Coach Finstock was going crazy too and they were still playing. There was enough time for Beacon Hills to come back. Jackson passed to her this time and she scored, another spin with her arms wrapped around his neck, another shout from Danny, and they were playing again.

Time was playing tricks on her, she couldn't look at the clock on the scoreboard without feeling dizzy and nauseous. So she stopped looking at it and just played. Sometime she wondered where Scott was or if Derek had been able to take time away from Erica and Boyd to stop by, but her dad was here and the rest of the team was here so she just kept playing.

And then they were ahead in the score and the crowds were screaming louder than ever but above that she could hear Scott yelling for her. Principal Argent was saying something too, and the crowd –the crowd was just screaming their heads off, because the scoreboard that she couldn't look at was counting down the seconds now. It was the end of the game, the end of the game. Wasn't there something about the end of the game? She looked over to Jackson expecting to see one of his rare but completely awesome huge smiles but he wasn't smiling at all, he was staring at the ground and looking like he was about to hurl or something.

Stiles started running towards him, to see if he was okay, and as she ran she remembered his warning from the locker room –she remembered him asking her to stay away. She stumbled and he turned to look right at her, his face was wrecked –unsure and frightened like Jackson Whittemore should never be. And then the lights went out.

There was screaming but she could hear past the screaming, there was a soft moan and a breath hitching. And she smelled blood, blood like she had never smelled it before so warm and soft and powerful that she could feel it coating her hands and dripping down her wrists.

She caught his shoulders as he sagged and fell back, she cradled his head on her lap, "oh my brave brave boy," she whispered. "It's going to be okay, we'll get Lydia to come over. And Danny, Danny should be here, I'll get Danny to come too."

But she wasn't really moving, she was just holding his hand tight and watching as he bled out on the lacrosse field. "Jesus Christ we should burn this god damn field," she whispered to him as she dared to touch his perfect face.

"Maybe we should," said Principal Argent as he slipped his hand in front of her face and waited a moment for her to go limp. And then he dragged her off and away, Jackson's hand twitched as he tried to keep their hands linked together but he couldn't hold her.